#I should’ve given y’all more credit & I apologize | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hskrealm · 4 years

Text

memories. (m)

pairing: min yoongi x reader

genre: angst, smut, a liiittle bit of fluff in some places

word count: 6.2k (it wasn’t supposed to be this LONG IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE)

warnings: eh where do i start... reader is VERY traumatized, she’s kinda crazy too (just a little) mentions of major character death, familial issues, this fic is just very dark for like the first 2k words lol, yoongi loves his fucking sword, commoner!yoongi, king!yoongi, criminal!reader, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, hair pulling, dom!yoongi, etc.

summary: “We can save the details for later. I accept your apology, and I really want to fucking kiss you.”

notes: inspired by @dontaskshhhhh and the daechwita mv. there’s probably many typos as usual y’all—

Even though you were a lowlife, you couldn’t stand being handled roughly.

It wasn’t your fault that you had an unfortunate upbringing. Your parents were very wealthy when you were born, but after the family business failed due to illegal scamming and falsifying of information, you were left to support yourself.

Literally. They didn’t give you a single thing to live off of after the age of five, which was fine. Your grandparents took after you, and once you were able to have a say in it, you decided to never set foot in the presence of your mother and father again if you could help it.

All was fine up for the next twelve years after that, until your grandparents bailed out on you too. Something about not having the funds to support all three of you financially, although they had several beach houses to their names, and enormous retirement checks to rely on.

You had gotten used to being given up on by this point, so you weren’t as emotionally devastated as you should’ve been when you’d come home from school one day, and your grandparents had all of your belongings packed up by the front door with a nice little note on top to let you know that you’d have to find somewhere else to lay your head.

They didn’t even have the decency to tell you to fuck off in person. You laugh sometimes thinking about it, since that’s all you could do now. The past was behind you, and you can’t change it. You didn’t really want to, either, because you learned quite a bit from your younger self.

For starters, you learned from your previous encounters to never lay your trust in anyone ever again, even if they were to offer you everything you needed and more. You’d made this mistake too many times to make it again. Besides, if you couldn’t trust your own parents, then you’d be setting yourself up for failure if you decided to seek assurance in a stranger... no matter the relationship you may have developed with them.

Although you knew you couldn’t trust anyone, you quickly learned that it was okay to take advantage of help when it was given to you.

That is how you got back on your feet, after all.

You met a good group of people.

Well, good to you, but not to the law, or outsiders.

You didn’t trust them, but you allowed them to take you in. They were just like you; lost and traumatized, but they confided in one another. They didn’t really have a choice, since they only had each other.

You had an amazing run with them. They made you laugh, cry, and they supported you. Just like family, you supposed. You never had a stable family to compare the kind of love they gave you to, but you figured it’d be something similar.

You never had an abundance of anything, but you had just enough, and that was okay. You were never the type of girl who desired to live lavishly anyway.

It was remarkably easy for you to pick up on their habits. You had become keen on cheating, lying, and stealing after only two months of being in their company. It came easily to you, and you used your newly developed skills to wiggle your way in and out of certain situations.

You couldn’t wiggle your way out of this one, though. The cuffs on your wrists wouldn’t allow for that.

You sucked in a breath as you were thrown to the ground, your knees scraping against the material of your jeans as you made impact.

“Be any fucking rougher, could you?” You hissed toward the guard over your shoulder, although you wiggled your fingers nervously behind your back.

He smirked at you, stifling a laugh as he carried his muscular frame toward the large double doors that you were forced through moments prior to being manhandled toward the ground.

“Enjoy your last few moments of life, honey.” He spit, his face falling expressionless afterward as he allowed the doors to slam shut behind himself, leaving you to your thoughts. You couldn’t see his face, but you were certain that he was sporting a shit eating grin. If you could, you’d slap it off of his face.

You couldn’t see a thing in the room that you were in, and you began to grow anxious as the anticipation began to eat away at you, your heartbeat thudding loudly in your chest.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and held back a loud cry, your eyes watering as the realization finally settled upon you. You couldn’t keep up your tough girl exterior anymore, and you were going to die in this pitch black room at any moment.

What if this was part of the execution? What if the room was this dark purposefully? To add to the shock factor? That would be sure get someone shaken up, knowing they could be taken out by a gunshot, a quick slice of a sword, something hanging from the ceiling—

You paused, sniffing the tears away quickly. You knew your eyes would get puffy if you cried for any more than a few seconds, and you wanted to be remembered for being strong, not a wimp. News would spread quickly after your death, and you knew it would. It always did.

You evaluated your position for a moment. You were crying because you were afraid of death.

Seriously, you were afraid of something that was inevitable?

You choked back a laugh, a small smile cracking on your face before you burst out into a full on fit of giggles.

You wouldn’t be tortured to death, and you knew that for sure. That sort of punishment was only allowed for sexual crimes, acts of severe hatred, domestic abuse, or murder.

You’d be killed quickly, and you were crying because of that? You’d have lost all of your street credit if word got back to your little gang.

You looked like a lunatic. Knees pressed into the ground, hands behind your back, and laughing wildly as strands of your hair flew onto your face from the occasional draft that would flow through the room.

You knew it, too, but you picked up this tip from a certain black haired boy with a scar over his eye. He used to be involved with your group of criminals.

He told you to laugh in any situation where you were put under extreme pressure. You told him that he was crazy for giving you such shitty advice, but once you tried it after being taken into custody for the first crime, you realized that he may have given you some valuable information.

“You’ll either relax a bit and take some of the stress off, or they’ll think you’re crazy and let you go. Win win, right?”

You smiled as your laughter began to die out.

You’d always remember Yoongi, but he was dead to you now.

He was the only person in that group that you connected with. Still, you didn’t trust him, but you could rely on him to help you every now and then if you needed to.

He left without a word, something about wanting to better himself. He’d mentioned that a few times before he actually left, but you didn’t think he’d follow through.

That was the first time that you’d been physically hurt when someone important to you left.

You didn’t speak for a few weeks, laugh for months, or manage to take care of yourself properly for quite some time.

He was so important to you, and he knew it. He didn’t care though, because he still left. Why did you care then?

You didn’t.

You wouldn’t have to care about anything in a few more minutes.

You rolled your neck from side to side, shaking yourself free from any final thoughts as you waited patiently for your execution.

You considered begging for your life, but there was no reason to. You didn’t have anything to lose anymore.

You sat quietly for another minute or so.

Every muscle inside of your body tensed at the sound of leisurely paced footsteps striking against the ground. You felt like you were going to explode, but you managed to keep yourself together.

“Lift your head.”

You immediately obeyed the request, fearful that you’d be tortured immensely if you hadn’t.

You took a deep breath, stopping midway through it as you felt the cool metal of a sword press right under your chin.

The panic began to settle in again, and you began to fidget around like a fish out of water as the sword grazed the skin of your neck.

“Luckily for you, ________, stealing isn’t punishable by execution.” Your eyes ballooned out of your skull, and your mouth dried instantly as you fell into a coughing fit.

“You’d better hold your breath if you want to keep your life.” The person with the sword against your windpipe teased, and you shrieked in terror and disbelief as you confirmed that the voice belonged to who you thought was the rightful owner.

“YOONGI!” You screamed so loudly that your voice bounced off of the walls in the room and echoed back, possibly louder than the scream itself.

You weren’t sure if you screamed because he was the one threatening you with a weapon, or that there was still a very large sword pressed to your jugular even though he just said that stealing isn’t punishable by execution.

How would he know that, anyway?

The room began to lighten up at the same time the sword did against your neck. You were vaguely able to make out Yoongi’s figure in front of you.

You winced slightly as the lights brightened fully, and you came face to face with the sack of ass that left you to suffer years ago.

You checked your surroundings immediately afterward, confused to find that you were in the aisle of what you knew to be a temple.

Was this a fucking joke?

You weren’t sure of what to say. You had questions, obviously, but you also wanted to scream at him for being an asshat and playing such a dumb prank on you.

How are you supposed to start a conversation with someone that you hadn’t talked to in years, though?

Yoongi could read your confusion, a sadistic smile on his face as he walked toward you as if he had achieved something great.

He leaned down in front of you, a few pieces of his blonde hair brushing against your forehead. You thrashed around in the cuffs as he placed a light peck to your forehead, just as he did when the two of you were on good terms.

“Get the fuck off of me.” You threatened, and he hummed at your attitude.

“Still as gorgeous as ever, ________.” You bit down on the insides of your cheeks as he angled himself away from you.

He was as gorgeous as ever himself, the scar still perfectly etched into his skin as if it’d never heal, his face a bit more mature since the last time you saw him, and his hair a bright blonde instead of the shiny black it was a few years back.

You hated him.

“I hate you.” You voiced your thoughts, and Yoongi simply shrugged while taking a few steps backwards, maintaining his eye contact with you.

“You wouldn’t hate me if you knew what I’ve done for you.” He responded simply, his chocolate colored eyes squinted in distaste as he turned around on his heels, walking cooly to a chair that would’ve resembled a King’s throne.

It actually was a throne, but you didn’t understand why he was sitting on it. Min Yoongi was certainly no King. He was a rude and inconsiderate excuse of a friend.

Er, acquaintance, rather. You never really had friends, and you’d like to keep it that way.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, nose turned up in skepticism. Yoongi smiled a bit, licking his lips as he reminisced upon the events that happened a bit earlier today.

He saw you being dragged into the temple by one of his guards, struggling to keep your footsteps aligned due to the inability to control the pace of your walking.

He watched as the doors of the temple swung open and you were thrown to the ground harshly. He was hidden in the shadows as he observed the scene, immediately knowing that feisty voice of yours like the sword that he carried with him daily.

It was one of the things he loved most about you. After all, he was the one that practically made that part of you, and he didn’t regret it one bit.

It pained him to know that you were brought to him under terms of execution, but he assumed this would be the way you’d turn out if you continued to involve yourself with that group of people. That’s why he left you on your own.

Plus, the road to becoming King didn’t require the help of anyone else, and it certainly didn’t require yours. This was a task that he needed to complete on his own, and now that he had, his goal was simply to remain in power.

That’d be easy. People feared tyrants.

Yoongi was no tyrant, but he had tyrannical tendencies, one of them being participating in the execution of prisoners. Now, it was strictly prohibited for a King to execute a commoner, but he didn’t mind. Plus, he did sit back and watch most times as he was supposed to, so what was the harm?

He was the highest form of authority there was anyway, so who’d complain to him about what he could and couldn’t do?

He battled with himself to figure out a proper way to ease you out of this. He couldn’t outright call the execution off, and he knew that. No one would fear a King who spared the life of some measly village girl, and Yoongi craved the fear of his people.

Perhaps he could drag you elsewhere once the guard left. If he was to be questioned about it, he could mention something about needing to speak to you privately before your execution.

No, that’s dumb. Who’d believe that?

Maybe he could wait just until your execution was to take place, and halt it, saying that you were wrongly convicted of your crimes?

He couldn’t do that either. You’d been caught stealing multiple times before, and your criminal record was long enough to prove that you were the right person sentenced to death.

So, Yoongi lost about half of his dignity when he marched right up to the guard that dragged you inside, and asked him to let you be.

Of course, the guard agreed, but Yoongi’s ego had faltered momentarily.

He gained all of that dignity back, though, when he heard you scream his name while kneeling with your hands cuffed behind your back.

What a sight to see.

Yoongi glanced back down at you from his throne, a cocky smile on his face as he shifted his position in the gigantic chair, turning his body slightly sideways as he threw his legs over the side of it.

“Nothing, so I guess you’re right. I haven’t done a thing to help you.” He shrugged, bending over onto the ground to grab his scabbard. He slid the sword into it with practiced ease and dropped it to the ground.

The sound of the weapon scraping against the sides of the holder caused you to cringe, and you jumped as the sound of it hitting the floor bounced off of the walls a few times, just as your scream did earlier.

You gulped at the thought, wondering if he really would have killed you if he had gotten the chance.

“What’s your deal with them anyway?” Yoongi questioned after a few moments of thick silence. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes the moment he began to speak.

“I don’t have to answer anything you ask me, and it’s none of your business.” You responded, and Yoongi quirked an eyebrow.

“I would’ve assumed that you’d catch on a little earlier. You have always been a smart girl, but I suppose all of the thieving and lying caught up with you after a few years.” You said nothing, suddenly feeling overwhelming guilt.

“You do have to answer everything I ask you, actually. I can’t kill you for stealing, but I can kill you for treason.” You scoffed. There he was, playing the royalty card again.

“Treason? Yoongi, give it up. You can’t be executed for treason toward a commoner. Have you lost your mind?” He narrowed his eyes at you and stood up, taking the short walk toward you again.

“You are a commoner, ________. I am not.” You were tired of his dumb breakdowns.

“What are you supposed to be then?” You smirked, and Yoongi returned the smirk with a lick of his lips.

You watched with furrowed eyebrows as he shrugged the thick black jacket he was wearing off of his slim shoulders, and you inhaled a shaky breath as you vaguely made out the emblem of the kingdom on both of his shoulders in the dim lighting of the temple.

“Oh my fucking God.” Your voice cracked as you whispered, your bottom lip trembling in defeat as you realized your humongous fuck up.

You slowly lifted your head, immediately meeting Yoongi’s eye contact. He jutted his bottom lip out to mock you, before quickly twisting his lips into a sly smile.

“You know what to do.” You nodded, lowering your upper body to the ground slowly.

You weren’t low enough to the ground for his liking, so he grabbed his sword and retrieved it from its covering, and pressed the dull side of it against the back of your head to force you lower. Your forehead was touching the ground.

“Better.” He sighed, holding you there for a few seconds before placing the sword back at his side. When you no longer felt the pressure of it on your head, you deemed it okay to lift yourself up.

Your mind was pooling with questions.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He joked, placing the sword in front of him as he stacked both of his hands onto its handle.

“How?” You asked weakly, and he feigned confusion.

“How are you King? You can’t be King with that scar over your eye.” You wanted to find any plausible fault to the idea that he was King.

“Why can’t I?” He asked with a cock of his head. The question was meant to be unanswered, but you stupidly responded anyway.

“The scar symbolizes impuriti—“

“Then I must be pretty powerful, hm?” He laughed, swinging the sword off of the ground to rest on top of his shoulder. He gave you a pity glance as he took a few steps to land himself behind you.

“I’m not going to put you in prison.” He sighed heavily, as if the admittance of him allowing you freedom hurt his conscious dearly.

“Why not?” You asked eagerly, trying desperately not to show how excited you were as your fingers twitched behind your back.

“I’m not going to imprison you, but I need you to make me a promise.” He said, removing the sword from his shoulder as he slid it in the space between your back and the chain of the handcuffs.

You stood deathly still.

“Anything.” You responded instantaneously. You’d regret it later.

Or maybe you wouldn’t.

“Don’t let me see your face around here again.” What?

Around the temple? In the village? Where were you supposed to go?

“I—“ He placed his foot against your lower back, digging his shoe into your skin through the fabric as he tugged the sword forcefully toward himself, successfully breaking the chain of the cuffs and sending it flying backward.

You moaned at the feeling, bringing your wrists in front of you as you twisted each of them around a few times to rid yourself of any stiff muscles.

“Get out.”

•••

“You called me back here?” You sighed, leaning your head against the opened doors as Yoongi hummed with a small nod.

“Yes, I did. Come in, and close the doors behind you.” You raised an eyebrow, although you shut the temple doors and walked down the aisle that would lead you to Yoongi’s throne.

He stood up from his royal seat, walking halfway down the aisle to meet you. You took the time to notice his appearance. He was dressed just like he was when you saw him a few years ago before he completely vanished. Baggy clothes, low rise sneakers, and a few chains dangling from his neck.

You held an unimpressed expression as you stood face to face with him, but seeing him dressed like this gave you a small bit of satisfaction. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him that though.

Unknown to you, Yoongi chose to dress like this to keep you comfortable with him. He needed you to be a bit vulnerable if you are going to hear him out, and he knew this would be one step closer to achieving that vulnerability.

Plus, he was taking you out today. Yes, to explain everything that’s happened during the past couple of years while he wasn’t around, but also for his personal satisfaction.

He missed you just as much as you missed him.

“We’re going to that little spot a few minutes away from here. The one we always used to—“

“I know, Yoongi. I really don’t want to bring up the past anymore.” You stopped him, holding your hand up as you cut him off in the middle of his sentence. You didn’t mean to come off so harshly, but the years of emotional trauma didn’t make that easy for you.

Yoongi nodded once, although he felt a little pang in his chest in you basically admitting that you didn’t want to go to the special place the two of you created a few years back, and you probably didn’t even want to be with him right now.

“Sure, okay.” He sighed, clearing his throat as he walked toward a hidden back entrance that he used at times to leave the temple.

You watched as he took his first few steps, before turning over his shoulder to stare at you with annoyance written all over his features.

“Are you going to follow me, or are you just going to stand there and look stupid?” You rolled your eyes and began to follow after him, Yoongi turning back toward the front once you caught up with him.

He continued to walk, and you desperately tried to fight the smile that was tugging at your lips as bits and pieces of the Yoongi you knew were starting to shine through.

•••

The walk to the secluded spot by that small river that you remember so fondly was uncomfortable and stuffy.

Neither of you said a word, simply letting the leaves crunching under the both of your shoes fill the silence.

The sun was beginning to set, and the rays cast a beautiful shadow over the river. It looked just as it did the last time you were here.

That day… that day was the happiest you’d been in years.

That was also the day Yoongi got his scar.

“Where the fuck did you go?” Yoongi asked, laughing loudly as he stumbled over a few branches while searching for you behind the trees and shrubs near the river.

“I’m never playing hide and seek with you again. You’re an asshole for this.” You chuckled, immediately clasping your hand over your mouth as you hoped desperately that he hadn’t heard.

But, it was Yoongi. Of course he’d heard.

“Your cute little laugh is going to get you in trouble.” You ducked lower behind the shrub in front of you, peering out over the edge to see if you could see his shadow approaching.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you couldn’t see him anymore, squinting and leaning forward a bit to see if your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Yoongi snuck up behind you, cursing under his breath when you snapped your head in his direction.

You hadn’t fully processed that it was Yoongi when he finally came into view and attempted to scare you, so you pushed him backward roughly. This sent him tumbling over a rock, and his face smashed against the forest floor.

“Oh my God!” You screamed, running over to him, your black combat boots seeming to be too heavy at that moment.

He was breathing heavily and holding one side of his face, and when you rolled him onto his back, the sight of the blood creeping between his fingers was enough to make you pull him up to his feet, and you dragged him all the way back to the village within a handful of minutes.

You had ripped off a piece of your oversized shirt and wrapped it over his eyes sometime during this process.

The two of you were spotted by a group of people as you neared the village again, and they helped you pull Yoongi to the home of a medic who would sew his skin together.

He had the stitches for two months, and even after they removed, he still had the scar.

You felt terrible, but you never got the chance to apologize.

He left the day after his stitches were removed.

“________.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip.

“________!” Yoongi shouted, and you came to with a small jolt.

“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled from your lips effortlessly, and it felt so, so good after all these years.

You walked quickly to meet Yoongi as he sat near the edge of the river, the wind blowing lightly which made his hair a disheveled mess.

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.” You repeated, clearly this time as you sat down next to him, keeping a few feet between the two of you because you weren’t sure where your emotions were at the moment, and you certainly weren’t sure what he was feeling.

There was an awkward silence.

“What?” He laughed, the confusion evident on his face.

“What are you talking about?” You scratched nervously at your arm as he scooted a bit closer to you.

A part of you wanted to condemn him, but a larger part of you wanted him to stay right next to you.

“I’m really sorry about the scar. You left before I could apologize, and it’s been making me feel so guilty for the past couple of years, but—“ Yoongi shook his head, taking your hand into his as he intertwined your fingers with his, just like he used to back then.

You let your hand flop loosely in his.

“Isn’t it a little obvious that I don’t mind it? If anything, I’m happy that you fucked my face up.” He joked, his gummy smile slowly fading as he looked from the river to your paling face.

“Why’d you leave?” You asked, the light mood falling. Yoongi took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He knew he couldn’t avoid this question, but he hoped that you’d at least wait a bit before bringing up this topic.

“I told you, I need to better myself.” You let go of his hand.

“Bullshit!” You exclaimed, Yoongi simply turning his head to look at you as your face began to heat in anger.

“It had something to do with me, and I know it does. Why lie now? Why bring me to this special spot to lie, Yoongi?” He took a small gulp, looking away from you and out toward the landscape. He couldn’t utter these next few words while staring at your face.

“I wouldn’t have become King if I was in love with a criminal.” He stated nonchalantly. You froze.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You stood up, and Yoongi stood up as well, just in case you were planning to run away and get yourself into trouble as you usually did when you couldn’t handle your emotions.

“I had to let you go if I wanted to change, ________. You’re not good for me, and I’m not good for you.” His voice began to thin out the longer he spoke, fighting back a sob.

“Are you trying to say that I’m a bad influence?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Are you seriously trying to say that I am not good for you , when you’re the person that I got into the most trouble with in that entire fucking group?” You shook your head as you spoke, refusing to believe that he was saying you weren’t good for him.

“Why don’t you tell me the real reason that you left, hm? I can handle the truth, and I deserve to know after waiting for so long. Believe me, you won’t have to worry about seeing me again after this.” Yoongi was seething, his hands clenched into fists by his sides as he tried to steady his breathing.

He wasn’t going to get angry.

He was going to explain himself to you calmly.

“Did you not just hear me fucking say that I’m in love with you?” His voice dropped to a whisper, as he began to take slow strides toward you.

You’d seemed to have forgotten that in the midst of your yelling at him.

“I taught you a handful of things back then, but I’m fairly sure that knowing when to shut up was one of them.” You looked over your shoulder as you took a step backward whenever he took one forward, but if you continued like this then you’d end up with your back against a tree.

This was not some cliche love story, and you weren’t the main character.

You stepped to the side to avoid bumping into the tree.

Yoongi took a side step as well, standing still for a few seconds before he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and pressed you up against the tree by his arm.

“You were going to hinder me from my goal, ________. There’s no way in hell I’d be able to focus while having you by my side.” His grip on you loosened as he continued to speak.

“I thought if I was away from you that I’d forget about everything, but that made it worse. There wasn’t a single day that came where you wouldn’t pass my mind.” You pressed your head backwards against the tree in exasperation.

“Why couldn’t you take me with you?” You asked, sadness evident in your voice. Yoongi’s heart clenched as he read you like his favorite book.

“I wanted you to be there for the result, not the work that it took to get there. I’d come back for you when I was better off, but I didn’t have to. You came to me.” Yoongi leaned in closer toward you.

“Well, you didn’t come to me, per say. I brought you to me.” You scoffed.

“You did what?” Dealing with him was an emotional roller coaster, but you still wanted the first seat on the ride.

“We can save the details for later. I accept your apology, and I really want to fucking kiss you.” You opened your mouth to respond, but Yoongi leaned in for this kiss anyway.

He molded his soft lips against yours with ease. You awkwardly left your eyes open, but upon seeing him with his closed as the passion radiated in the way he kissed you, you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to slip into his embrace.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, the kiss quickly shifting from pure and energetic love to uncontrollable and messy lust for one another.

Yoongi broke the kiss first, and you chased his lips as he pulled away. You whimpered in defeat as he used his grip on your waist to turn you around, your hands pressed against the bark of the tree.

He roughly tugged your jeans down your legs, not having the patience to unbutton them fully. You flinched as you heard a twig snap somewhere in the distance, and you looked over your shoulder at Yoongi with fear etched onto your features.

“We’re going to get fucking caught.” You laughed, although you were deathly afraid of being found with the King’s dick buried snuggly inside of your pulsing cunt.

“I’m a King, baby. I’m the boss. I don’t give a fuck about someone stumbling back here.” He spoke, while working quickly at the zipper of his jeans.

“Besides, I’ll be quick.” He moaned out in satisfaction as he finally freed his cock from its confines. He tugged your panties to the side with one of his fingers, slapping his length against your throbbing clit a handful of times before lining himself up with your inviting warmth.

“Kind of difficult—oh shit,” He paused in the middle of his sentence as he slid his cock into you, a shiver running down your spine at the feeling of being so full after so, so long.

“Kind of difficult to wait for something that you’ve been wanting for a—for a while, especially when it’s right in front of you.” He huffed into your ear, gathering your hair up in one of his hands to force you to arch you back more.

“Fuck. You okay, baby girl? I know this is a tight fit, cause you’re squeezing the shit out of my dick.” Yoongi waited patiently for your okay, although that didn’t stop him from rocking his hips against you slowly to offer himself some sort of relief.

“‘m okay. Just fuck me, please.” You begged, and Yoongi hastily obliged. He kept his hand tangled between your locks, as he brought his free hand down to your hip.

He set a gut-destroying pace instantly, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass somehow louder than they’d be if the two of you were in a secluded room.

“You can consider this your punishment for giving me so much shit talk yesterday. Look at you now, huh? Can’t get a single fucking word out, can you?” You whined as he dug his fingernails into your hip, his thrusts so vigorous and powerful that you would scrape the skin of your thighs against the tree every now and then.

Your legs twitched as you neared your high, a noise sounding like somewhat of a feminine growl climbing its way out from the back of your throat as you held your breasts in your hands, flicking your nipples between your fingers to coax yourself closer to the edge.

“Good girl. Lose yourself on my cock.” Yoongi was near his climax as well, the way your pussy was sucking him in combined with his cock grazing the material of your panties every few thrusts enough to send him straight toward that euphoric feeling.

There was something so primal about him taking you up against a tree, where seemingly anyone could find the two of you. No strings attached (yet), just pure, sexual need.

“Cum with me. I want that.” Yoongi snarled into your ear, and you nodded eagerly as he slid his hand across your stomach and down toward your clit.

He only managed to rub a few quick circles against the sensitive nub before you began to thrash wildly underneath him.

“Stay still.” He warned you, and you tried desperately to obey him as hot bliss took over momentarily, and your muscles spasmed beneath Yoongi as he used your pussy to chase his high as well, pulling out to cum on your back.

He slid your pants back up, before turning you around to try and button them. You were shaking too much, though, and it was starting to frustrate him.

“________, stay st—SHIT!”

Yoongi yelled as he began to tumble backward, making sure to pull you with him this time.

Your intense shaking caused Yoongi to trip over himself and fall backward, causing the both of you to end up plummeting into the cold river water.

“Damnit!” You cursed, and Yoongi just laughed as he rubbed his eyes free of the water that managed to seep into them.

“You’re quite the klutz.” He commented, running his hand through his hair as he slyly noticed the way your shirt began to grow more and more sheer as it soaked in the water.

“You’re quite the asshole.” You playfully rolled your eyes, squealing when Yoongi snagged your shirt into his hands and pulled you into his hold once more.

“Accidents just seem to happen at this river, don’t they?” You asked, and Yoongi shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist as he tucked your head underneath his chin.

“Yeah, but they’re also the best memories.” You tilted your head up to look at Yoongi’s face, and his eyes were closed.

Why do you always miss the memo?

Just as you were about to close your eyes, Yoongi splashed your face with a bit of water from the river.

You gasped and pulled away from him, mustering up the most threatening glare you could give.

“Why would you do that when I’m already wet?” He smirked.

“Hell yeah you are.”

“YOONGI!”

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 20)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

EARLY CHAPTER FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT. THIS SHOULD’VE BEEN POSTED ON SATURDAY BUT I DECIDED TO DO A DOUBLE UPDATE FOR ONE WEEK! EXPECT CHAPTER 20.1 ON SATURDAY! *wink wink*

CHAPTER 19

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Maybe the curse has its own purpose for whatever fate you had with the witcher. Sensible responsibilities and a tie that has been knotted together with him that will surely affect both of your lives when chaos arrives.

Warnings: A kiss? (Unless y'all don't want to kiss Geralt so this can be a warning?) Curse words. Humans being judgemental bitches? Sweet, soft and protective Geralt? Petty, emotional reader? (She'll continue to be because of...reasons. Hehehe.) Eanraig asking personal questions. LMAO. Mention of Sylvan and Yennefer of Vengerberg.

Words: 5.3k

A/N: Early update for y’all! Double update for this week! Expect an update at around saturday or sunday! Heehee! FEEDBACKS WILL BE NICE TO SEE! MWAH! I still haven’t written the lost chapter for WOTN. There’s going to be a lost chapter that should’ve been in between chapter 16.1. I’ll write it soon. Heehee!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Being in the arms of a person you were finally realizing that you eventually loved gave a different kind of bliss rather than the sensual moments that you both had.

Knowing that you were in love with him---a divulgence that you have no plan of saying yet; for the fear of it being unrequited was keeping you back.

You weren't going to tell him your secret yet. No. Especially when you have been thrashed and battered; bleeding with their purpose for any truth to spill or lies that they wanted to hear.

Were you finally meeting heaven? Geralt has said words that you never expected him to; calling you his betrothed when there was no disclosure or label onto what relationship you both had.

Perhaps, he needed to claim you in that endearment because he was being threatened by the king? In order for you to live, he must be having a tight relationship with you or a reason that King Viduka can convince himself that you shouldn't be slaughtered.

They needed your witcher and Geralt has outsmarted them by telling that you were both engaged; his soon-to-be wife that you know has not been serious enough to say.

"Geralt," you meekly whispered, your breath hitting his neck with arms enveloping his shoulders as he carried you around the castle; it was a murmur that the knights weren't capable of catching while they guided you to where your temporary room will be.

"Where are they taking me?" a simple tremble of your throat gave Geralt a hint that you've been carried to places and rooms where they have hurt you; a place that they chose to clobber your innocent soul, "---Are they going..to hurt me again?"

There has been a usual hum that you managed to memorize from the witcher, hearing a disgruntled 'hmm' from the affronted question like he didn't like hearing the idea of his midget being rained blows on, "To a much more comfortable place than being held captive in the dungeons,"

"Did...Did you sealed a deal with the king? H-How will you find the witch who cursed the prince? you shouldn't have done it because I heard her location being undetected---"

The white wolf cut you off with a simple, frank honesty of his words; risking the hunt instead of letting them think of other ways for your sufferings. Never wanting another painful venture that would make his thoughts suffer in the end. He'd taken the chance of finding the witch rather than having the possibility of a fight with thousands of knights nor an attempt to let you escape from hundreds of horsemen out in the open.

"There was no other choice."

Your arms tightened around him when they've guided you both to take a turn, feeling more protected in his arms. Hence, the action made Geralt keep you closer to him afterwards; making you sadly smile from his hold because it felt farcical to even think that he was doing this for you out of such love that you were sure of feeling for him.

You could feel that this comfort you're feeling had repercussions based on what that sorceress has described him and from what future she sees if he'd really pick you.

Yennefer of Vengerberg was still out there. Geralt will surely pick a woman who wouldn't get to die easily because you were a mortal. He'd just give himself such dolor because you'll die first than him or better yet, you could be killed by anyone who wants you dead with just a snap of your head because of being vulnerable to their eyes and to their world; knowing nothing but to strive just like how normal people live on earth.

"You've done enough for me already. You should've just left me alone to die and protect Cirilla like how your future is planned---I probably shouldn't be even in your life, Geralt."

You could feel his golden eyes boring holes on your face because of the sudden principle you've plainly stated, the sound coming out of your nose like a faithless lie you abruptly believed in. His marches turned heavier with each step upon hearing your judgement. With a subtle shift of your eyes away from his chiseled face, your mouth fell into a tight frown just like how his tightened when he looked front as he walked.

"That's never going to happen, midget." the witcher gruffly grumbled, "---You saved Cirilla. You've given the bard a chance to move on from that hideous person he had,"

You didn't save anyone. You've only done what was right by being transported into a world that you didn't belong in. Your mouth was about to open when he'd quickly clipped a short additional comment that shut your mouth from the moment it was heard---your heart jumping in the exact time he was having his steps.

"---and you also saved me,"

A sarcastic snort concealed the rushing beat of your heart; not thinking it through and never believing the opinions inside your head. Choosing the pessimist side of your brain that kept you from trusting what your heart wanted to feel.

"From what? from keeping you silent? I'm just giving you a headache, I have been a complete burden to you,"

"No. You're wrong." you've shifted your eyes to see his forehead creased in the deepest wrinkle it can form, simply telling you that he was upset in a trice when it was a truthful answer.

Your attention went straight to the side of his face; narrowing your eyes at a fresh scar that weren't there the last time you've seen him---fingers aching to caress his disfigurement and having thoughts inside your head that he'd been hurt from his latest hunt with a monster. Digits stayed where they are, clasping them tighter with your own as you clung to your witcher.

Taking a dim view of his lour, his teeth was clenched tight as he fell silent---appearing to look like he wanted to say more but chose to keep it all to himself.

"Do not trust the sorceress or the queen. Just trust me, Eanraig and no one else in this castle,"

"Eanraig. He's the person who treated my wounds. Who is he?"

"A druid. A Scholar of the forest. Trust no one but me or him, understand?" he stated firmly as he ceased his steps, standing before a fairly large double, wooden doors whilst the gallants unlocked them. Geralt's words were left in a soft mumble that you didn't realize he would be competent of, sounding like he was giving sheer comfort over his undiplomatic rejoinder.

"---Because in their eyes, you are alike of my kind. A woman who is lost in our world and has opened a portal for undefeatable monsters; a key for adding more chaos that this world can ever bring,"

The doors to your room has been opened, one knight coming right in rather than the both of you who had permission to stay in chambers; his voice becoming a mere whisper of his baritone, rough timbre that didn't caught your hearing when a knight suddenly talked out loud for the chevalier inside.

"---but, not to me."

The horseman has given Geralt a pithy nod of his head to direct him in. He set him aside when he'd pass by him; seeing how gigantic and bigger that the witcher was compared to both chevaliers. Your witcher's face masking in a vacant expression which they have ridiculed him when he'd gently placed you down on a soft bed that you immediately examined; catching sight of golden, silk sheets for such a large bed; the physical sensation of what a bed brought was bringing you forty winks from the ache everywhere in your joints.

"I'll bring them what they want to keep you safe. They can hurt me, make me bleed to death---" you've blinked your left swollen eye to see Geralt hovering on the side, his simple actions of skimming his fingers through your tangled hair in a surreptitious manner, the wide-broad back shielding his succors from the knights that still didn't leave the room; keeping you both under their guard which will surely get a scolding from the witcher himself after assisting you to your bed.

"---yet, I will not afford to see it from you again."

Geralt never gave you a chance to speak as he fully stood on his feet, wandering over to where one knight was standing, watching over you both and never intending to give privacy. The witcher had a scowl on his face as he sauntered over to where they were, shooting daggers at them when they firmly stood on their ground.

Emanuel, the persistent gallant firmly straightened his back; peering back at the witcher who was taller and giving him a silent, brooding death stare. Never batting an eyelid as he mutely tried to let them understand his wishes to be alone with you. Emanuel continued to quietly hector, leveling with Geralt's intimidation as he stared straight back at him; thoroughly impertinent by what he wanted.

"Leave her chambers." the white haired witcher lowly grumbled, emitting a gruff groan in the back of his throat when he heard the trifling knight be headstrong towards him.

Their conversation made you try to lift yourself up from the bed, whimpering and complaining from the twinging sensations that your injured body has been giving. You didn't need another fight to occur between Geralt and some knight; his slaughtering has been enough and you didn't need anymore people dying on your hands. Thus, you've faintly called for your witcher's name; distracting his annoyance or anger from butchering another set of horsemen.

He wouldn't kill them. They just needed to be pushed away.

"How about no, Mutant?" Emanuel taunted back, snappy and utterly offhand which made Geralt raise a brow.

He sighed to himself, rolling his eyes at his comeback and carelessly grabbed onto his shoulders. Using his strength that not any other normal human has, Geralt pushed him out of the doors with a forceful shove; letting him stumble and fall on his other friend who'd grunted out loud when they both fell outside and onto the castle floors.

"I didn't ask."

The witcher hastily slammed the doors shut, fastening the bolts and when he'd hung onto the latch, an ample amount of curses has been given to him; more demeaning and vociferous words that he surely has been used to from people who hated his kind and brushed them off despite the thunderous knocking from behind closed doors.

He took quick strides to where you where; leaning on the headboard of the bed. You've seen his leather bag resting off the sides---specifically, under the bed which got you staring at him as he does so, still cherishing his presence, what his whole being was worth to take a shine to and for acclaiming that this otherworldly human was a person you were in love with.

The idea of being away from him swatted a sting to your chest; how going back to earth will be the death of you if it eventually happens---and if it was a future you were bound to come back to.

You've given the witcher a solemn smile, your true feelings currently kept as a secret until it was the right time to tell. Geralt was crouching beside you, scouring through his leather bags until you've seen him take out a transparent witch bottle that had flamingo colored extract inside; the stuff was familiar to you and remembering what effects it has given; such vile taste began to drip on the tip of your tongue, making you shake your head that you ought to spurn.

Yet, also making the heat run to your face because of how you remembered how he'd let you take the pain by forcing the potion to drizzle on your skin, softly kissing your lips to distract you from it as he took care of your wounds back then.

Your eyes turned into big saucers; shakily bringing out a hand to cease his actions. Geralt took note of your sudden response, his head slightly turned to the side as he watched you panic with his composed expressions, "I---I---I know that medicine! I thought the last potion you made for me was...the last?"

He gave an impressed raise of his brows, thankful that your head hasn't been forced to forget or banged against a wall that'll give you amnesia, "I've mixed potions for humans ever since you came. Jaskier seldom wounds himself when he has his lute. But, he can take a spell when he is stubborn enough. However, you---you can be clumsy as an impaired Sylvan,"

You could feel he was trying to stifle a smile from his last metaphor, remembering memories in his past that certainly has given him entertainment. The witcher took the cork using his teeth, spitting the top of on the side as he began to reach out and point it on your unhealed wounds surrounding your chest, lightly covering the scar on your chest that reminds you of him because of the same symbol he has on his necklace.

"Geralt! Don't you...Don't you dare!"

The latter stopped midway to give you a teasing scowl, "You have a habit of saying my name when you are refusing to follow my wishes, midget."

"It's because I'm fine!" you squeaked and planned to get away from him when he'd gently took hold of your wrist, keeping you in place; profoundly staring into your eyes in disbelief.

"You have been tyrannized and can hardly move any of your limbs. Then, you say you are fine?"

The white wolf outreached for the collar of your ruined, bloody sweater, gently pulling them down for the upper valley of your breast to be displayed to him. He felt you yank his hand away to pout back at him. It made Geralt hum in sheer interest and surprise; your refusal to be cared for, humoring his guts because it seemed like you were upset over other things he couldn't decipher.

"Hmm." he gravely hum as you've seen his lips curl into a small, firm smile while he tightly had the elixir on his hand, inserting a quip after being in the presence of your unreasonable and disobliging self yet again.

"---Must you still be shy with me after everything we had?"

You've given him silence, squinting your eyes back at him as a form of reply.

Geralt sighed a deep one as he closed his eyes; not knowing what was making you grumpy and cranky at the same time. He'd open his glowing peepers to greatly gaze back in utter tranquility, beating you off with whatever silent challenge has been going on. Thus, those amber have taken a peep over your bruised lips, creating a face of disapproval before seeing him lean his head forward and over your face.

"You're not going to---to---give me a kiss as a form of distraction! If you think I'm a thirsty lady---"

One light peck to the lips was all he needed to shut you up. He was gentle, almost felt like he was tickling the pain because there was no ache as he kissed you. Geralt brushed his lips on yours; delicate and utmost promising. The action being a verbal persuasion for words that has not been set out in public---also, a belief inside your heart that wanted to listen to her own theories that your alter-ego tries to brush off.

The softness of his lips left yours with a brush of his warm breath, slimly creating space between you both when he leaned his forehead on yours, his nose grazing to let you feel his worries over what happened whilst he mumbled whispers of fidelity that were only a mere chance of hearing from the witcher himself.

"You...don't know how dreading it was to not see you wandering around our home---coming back and being welcomed by a bleeding bard and Cirilla scared to her wits,"

He'd promptly closed his eyes, gliding the roughness of his thumbs over the linear of your jaw; tender and comforting as he caressed; hearing him breathe calm, deep inhales that were adding mental repose over your aching body. The latter ought to touch your sore body with a profound gentleness he didn't knew he had when Geralt heard light, padded marching coming forth to where you both have been ensnared in.

"Eanraig," the witcher nonchalantly acknowledged, being in the right time as he stood up to his feet and cutting the moment short with you before Eanraig can even barge in without knocking; using such magic to open the locks to their doors that had Geralt humming in displeasure when he saw a look being given to him; mentally asking if he was interrupting something.

Geralt's frown just tightened more as they both stared at each other while you have given Eanraig a cordial smile; remembering that he was also one who has treated your wounds when it felt to be needed.

The Druid slammed the door shut with a simple flick of his hand, casting such occult practices that has fastened the bolts back in a tight lock; creating a force shield over the doors which can't let people from the outside, hear whatever was being talked about in the chamber.

"I've heard from Ingrith that you both are cursed together," Eanraig frankly spoke as matter of fact.

At the mention of that, Geralt couldn't help but narrow his eyes on the scholar, showing him his curiosity and bewilderment, "By who?"

His fellow acquaintance shared a guileless smile, "By what, is what you probably mean,"

"The Djinn," Geralt hoarsely bleated incoherently, exhaling frustrations about what he was getting a gist of the conversation.

The Djinn was certainly a snake in the grass just like how Jaskier mentioned, he silently thought to himself. His focus on the scholar turning sharper from what he was being elevated about.

Eanraig gave him a nod, "You were trying to send her home," pause. "---Warp of the souls. A curse made for two destined people. Unless, it still isn't permanent."

Keeping quiet as they talk; holding the chafe of your bruises all to yourself. Your attention jumped from Geralt to Eanraig. Confounding with the topic at hand because of your sudden apprehension towards the whole ordeal.

A curse. You were under a curse right now and Geralt wanted to send you home as well.

Your eyes shot at the witcher's wide broad back, shooting a glare at his infuriating, beautiful white hair; wanting nothing but to grab onto some scissors and cut his tresses because of reasons that was worth to strangle him---which you doubt it can even happen. Geralt subtly eye you in his peripheral vision because he could feel you shooting daggers at him and it left him utterly confused as he shifted his attention over you who laid behind him and Eanraig who stood before the doors, strolling closer to the both of you.

"Were you both in heat? Does anything feel strange?"

"I know what she feels. Everything."

Eanraig crossed his arms, raising an arm to touch his grizzled white beard. His gaze condemnatory for his next question that caught the witcher off-guard, "Did you bed her?"

Geralt raised both of his brows and let out an intriguing hum of his deep timbre, your focus on his reply but also making you feel giddy and bashful over the Druid's rash interrogation. Your eyes squinting and continuously giving the back of the witcher's head a death stare when you kept your mouth shut and let him do all the short talking for the first time in forever.

"Hmm."

His dawdling form of response got the Druid scratching his temples for such a dishonest answer that he rarely receives from him, "It has a process before the curse lasts forever, there is no refund or whatsoever. Maybe it might have had reasons for creating such process," Eanraig stated and avoided to tell a sensitive topic that can get Geralt running for the hills if he immediately knew what reasons that the Djinn has held you both; such sensible responsibility that could challenge your unspecified relationship with him.

A child. His very own child. The witcher won't take the news in the best way that he can. Especially, Geralt of Rivia.

The druid couldn't help the grin growing on his wrinkly face, repeating his query a lot more genuine than he can get, "Now, did you bed her?"

"What does this have to do with the Djinn?"

Eanraig couldn't help but suddenly chuckle under his breath, never receiving a proper answer from Geralt that was surely entertaining his day; "This is a curse that only a djinn can do, not any sorceress nor wizard," his chortles eventually died down as he turned serious, wanting a real answer to know if you both will be expecting a neonate that will bring miracles to their world.

Beautiful but daunting miracles that nobody can ever read in the future---not even a fortune teller can as everything was being blocked by the power of the genie.

"So, answer the question," he patiently asked the witcher with such enthusiasm that Geralt couldn't comprehend.

"---Did you bed her, witcher?"

Geralt was completely finding his questions strange, his scowl faltering as it changed into a wince receiving a strange question out of all the queries he can ever ask.

"Yes."

Lifting your head away from the headboard, you've given them both looks of incredulity; disbelieving that they were talking about both of your sensual lives like it was nothing which you really are sensitive and conservative about. The knives being thrown behind Geralt's back becoming bigger as you rolled your eyes for his short, indecipherable acknowledgement---concealing the whole, sudden irritation you had for him because of your shabby, emotional self.

"What? Did he get me pregnant or something?" you peeked behind Geralt's body to send the druid your jesting question, igniting no harm over it because of how important Eanraig was making it seem about asking a question as if he has knocked you up or something.

The sudden witticism has made Geralt slightly turn his body to give you the side eye, head-shaking as he does so with a sarcastic smile like he'd been insulted.

"You're being unreasonable, Midget."

You've turned your head to the side, trying to get his dander up from his 'sending you home moment' that the druid has honestly and bluntly said out to the two of you; catching Geralt's true feelings over you despite of his lies over calling you important and his home that he would gladly come back to.

"I'm asking Eanraig not you, Geralt."

He still has his body slightly turned to you, narrowing his golden eyes and shaking his head more firmer like a warning sent to your sudden attitude.

"You know I can't. Stop this nonsense,"

Your bruised mouth was in a tight straight line, going on with your narrow-minded self---steady to be adding more ungenerous quips that certainly was vexing the witcher because he'd send you a tight grimace that doesn't scare you, "But, using a Djinn and trying to send me home isn't nonsense after telling that you find home in me?" you scoffed in the middle of being glared at.

"---I didn't know you meant it literally, Geralt of Rivia."

The white wolf hadn't really gotten to dodge from your sudden verbal attacks. Though, the scowl you've received from him was the nastiest out of all the rest today. Yet, he didn't plan nor given you one back as he bit his tongue for even thinking through his temper just like how he did before---wanting not to commit in another mistake that he will surely regret in the end again.

Geralt bit his tongue harder, clenching his teeth together before he spoke with his fangs slipping out behind his lips---appearing to be like he was trying not to growl his frustrations out for your sudden hostility.

"It was before I even knew that you...you can be considered as my home, Midget," he'd given you a gaze; a knowing one that tells you he won this verbal fight of your petty snarks because he had wished for that before the Djinn was even on your hands---not after the wishes happened.

"K." you curtly answered, defeated. The side of your wounded lip slightly lifting as you added a moniker that will surely infuriate him as in the end.

"...Witcher,"

Geralt's lowest pitch of a quieted growl vibrated through his chest, looking at you threateningly from your obdurate answer.

Eanraig couldn't help but shift his head from one person to the other, gaping at the both of you and heedful of the vexation that suddenly surrounded you both. Did he do something then? the druid asked in the back of his mind when you were both staring at each other---if looks would kill, you were both already in a tough fight over what war was happening.

The scholar of the forest awkwardly cleared his throat, snapping the uncomfortable atmosphere by educating everyone in the room with his slight knowledge over the curse.

"Very well then, so much for making it permanent. You've probably did as much as you could considering how lecherous the witcher can get from his overly developed mutations,"

Geralt turned his body back to the druid in one's own good time, a coy smile plastered on his face---so feigned that the witcher felt like he was faking it too weakly over being verbally attacked as well by his acquaintance who elegantly told him that he was created to be a horny man in his life and continuous to be so.

Until he developes some sort of erectile dysfunction that nobody even knows yet.

Eanraig choked in his own words when Geralt stepped a foot closer to the druid, his glowing eyes squinted and never knowing what he was thinking as he gave an intimidating frown that made the druid swallow his words down in the back of his throat, his mood certainly ruined from your petty vantage point.

"This...This curse has its purpose, you will never love any other man or woman. Never. Not anyone can overcome the memories you had with him or her. The feelings are growing deeper each day. Hatred if the djinn may see fit. Affection. Care. Love. You are lucky if both of your feelings are real and true because if hatred comes with it---even vanquishing the affection you have? It'll make you forget that you even had feelings for each other because you'll end up unhappy and trying to kill each other off,"

Eanraig peeked behind Geralt to see you blinking in curiosity, "---unfortunate for a human like her. If he does hate you, little woman."

"---Also remember, if one of you dies---which I doubt for the witcher. Then, you will feel as if your heart has been taken away from you. Deep heart break. Pain shall take its course, every day that you may wake up will be memories of her, inhibiting pain and more ache at the memory of her dead." he continued and noted how Geralt has fallen in silence with a jaw clenched tight, "---you will be unhappy and in despair for this fleeting happiness that the djinn has set you both in,"

"and---" Eanraig's thoughts were ceased when the butcher of Blaviken spoke with an unyielding emotion set in his eyes; serious and wary of what kind of people were surrounding you as for the mean time.

"I won't let her die."

"But, what if its inevitable?" the scholar bluntly said it out in the open, making Geralt calmly let out a breath as he had his lips in a tight line, thrusting his jaw forward in subtle determination while Eanraig continued to utter his protests.

"Ingrith and Queen Makeda wants her dead, Geralt. You know you won't be finding the witch in five days!"

"I'll give them their shitty hag, Eanraig." The witcher muttered in final, his goals thoroughly set to find the witch that you have warned him about. Must it be a trap, you may never be quite sure as it was only been said by the prisoner who stayed in the same dungeon with you.

Geralt sounded to be too stubborn to listen and it appeared to be like there was no other way for you to be set free unless he finds the witch or fake one woman in order to keep them off your hair.

"Alright, then."

The druid left it at that. Sighing hard for his mullish and keeping his mouth shut for anything that can keep the witcher distracted throughout his hunt.

Geralt turned on his heels, seeing you crossing your arms like an upset, lady who had her mouth pursed so long that it made him take a gander over your cranky, battered state. His brows raised as he deeply muttered, inspecting your body language whilst pondering over ways how to keep you conciliated when you were seething before him like a feral kitten. His vicious, grouchy midget that was needed to simmer down.

"Interesting."

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Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547 @henrythickcavill @kaatelyyynn @madelinelina, @summersong69, @raynosaurus-rex

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sebabestianstan101 · 4 years

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Suit and Tie - 001

Pairing: Ceo!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: You’re good at your job as the Secretary in The White Wolf Enterprise for years now, with a great set of friends and co-workers and a really hot boss, James Buchanan Barnes. You have a pretty decent work-relationship with him, even if you have to use all of your strength and self-control to not jump on him at every chance you get. Nothing exciting is really going on with your life, until your boss himself decides to spice things up a bit.

Themes throughout the series: Smut, angst, fluff, slight dom!bucky x sub!reader (nothing too crazy..), swearing, there’s probably going to be more as the story progresses

SERIES MASTERLIST Teaser 002

Your day has just begun and so far, everything has been absolute shit.

The top-floor elevator button takes the beating as you vigorously press it, hoping that it would make it go up faster. You say a silent prayer to arrive on time. You can’t be late. It’s unlike you, and your boss wouldn’t be happy.

In exactly 30 minutes, the CEO of Stark Industries, Tony Stark, will meet with your boss to discuss a business partnership that would benefit both parties and is set to raise The White Wolf Enterprise’s profit margins up to 55% at the least. This is a big project and your attendance is expected to take important minutes from the meeting. You’re excellent at your job and you know that Mr. Barnes trusts you more than anyone with these kinds of things, and you don’t plan on disappointing him.

“Come on, come on…” You tap your foot as you watch the floor numbers increase along with your heart rate.

It’s not that he’s the typical asshole CEO/Boss that some people unluckily have. You’re not scared of him or anything –– it’s just that you don’t want to disappoint him. You thrive from his approval of your work which is why you’re so good at what you do. It doesn’t help that the reason you’re not as early is because you overslept. You can’t really blame yourself though; you really tried to get home as early as you can from your sister’s wedding last night, which is a 4-hour drive away from where you live. Leaving the wedding reception at 12AM and arriving at 4AM, gave you about 3 hours to get settled. All was well, until you fell asleep on your couch instead of making your way out the door.

After what feels like forever, you reach the top floor and quickly make your way to the conference room to set up the presentation. You would normally drop by Mr. Barnes’ office before you prepare for meetings, but you didn’t want to risk getting reprimanded and causing a delay. You dab your sweat that was starting to form in your forehead, careful not to wipe off your makeup. You fumble with the cords and typed in the password, having to take a few tries before successfully inputting it. Damn, you are a mess today.

Distracted, you tap your nails against the table and your focus was completely on the screen in front of you that you did not realize someone entering the room.

“You’re late,” a firm voice behind you takes you by surprise.

A startled gasp escapes you and you swear you feel your neck almost snap with how fast your head turned.

“Fuck!”

Bucky raises his eyebrows at your inappropriate language, finding it amusing but keeps a neutral face, nonetheless. He takes notice of your unusual distressed state, the slight bags forming under your eyes making him squint out of concern. Beautiful, he thinks to himself. Regardless of how tired you look, you still manage to stay radiant in his eyes.

If possible, your eyes widen even more as you notice him squint his eyes, thinking that he was offended by your language. Immediately, you clear your throat and stand still to compose yourself.

“I apologize, Sir, I didn’t mean to use such, uh, inappropriate terms, uhm,” You can’t help but feel even more nervous by just seeing him stand so confidently. With the way he's looking at you, you don’t know if the fluttering in your stomach is because of fear or arousal. “I did.. Just arrive. I apologize for that as well, I had an exhausting drive back home and I may have.. Overslept,”

He holds your gaze long enough to make you squirm and break eye contact, preparing to be scolded. What were you thinking? You should’ve just told a stupid lie about how your car wouldn’t start or something rather than oversleeping. You mentally groan and drown in your thoughts that you miss the way the corner of his lips curl upwards as he looks at you with… fascination.

He smirks as he calls out your name, making you look back at his piercing blue eyes.

“I don’t think you received the memo from Wanda earlier, but Stark moved the meeting on Thursday. You’re all good.”

You blink up at him once again, relaxing a bit, but still a bit tense because of how stressful your whole morning had been so far. It didn’t help that he startled you earlier. You almost want to cry because of how tired you are, but you kept your composure and smiled.

“So.. I’m not in trouble or anything, right?” You peer up at him while giving him a shy smile. You don’t know how you can manage to keep eye contact with him for longer than a minute with the way he looks at you. His gaze is always so deep that you wouldn’t be surprised if he can actually read your thoughts.

“Well, I could give you a warning for it, but you seem like you’ve gone through a lot at 9 in the morning.” He says, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Well Mr Barnes, you’re right about that,” You sigh while bending forward to fix up the laptop you were trying to set up earlier. For a brief moment, Bucky lets his eyes drop to your ass that looked so full through your tight skirt. He clenches his jaw to stop himself from taking you right then and there.. He looks back up before you catch him. He’s surprised you haven’t caught him, given that he’s been checking you out every single time he got the chance to for years now.

“You can settle down for a while - drink some coffee if you can before dropping by my office. You’re going to need all the energy that you can get,”

You freeze and your eyes snap at him, wide-eyed, not sure if you heard him right.

“Sir?”

He raises his brow while giving you a little smirk, knowing the connotation of his words “Yes, while we discuss some changes with the presentation. Can’t have you on low energy today, Y/N,”

“Oh! Right, Uhm,” You chuckle nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “Of course. I’ll be there in a while,”

He gives you a curt nod before leaving the room, making you release a deep exhale. Boy, does he make you nervous.

It’s been a few hours, and you’re now typing on your laptop, making the necessary changes for the presentation. From his desk, Bucky has probably glanced at you multiple times as your lips slightly move, murmuring the words you’re reading. It’s a habit that you have, which has brought his attention to your lips from the very beginning. He can almost tell how soft it is and how good it would feel on his own.

He feels like a freak, fantasizing about you when you’re literally steps away from him. Though, he can get credit for being risky enough to do so. Every time you’re near him, your presence clouds his mind and he just wants to make all his fantasies become reality. Would you go along with it or will you deny him? Would you immediately drop on your knees if he commands you to? Will you be his good girl?

He’s not oblivious to your long-held stares and how your breathing quickens when he’s near you. He knows the effect he has on you, and he’s almost confident that you’ll be willing to do anything for him. But, he also respects you and the relationship you both have. He’s your boss and he knows how much you value your job.

“Hm, okay.. I think everything is here?” Your voice breaks his crowding thoughts as you stand up with the laptop on your hand, walking towards him. He clears his throat as he stands up from his chair to double check your work edits. He almost wished that there was an error so you’d stay a little bit longer, but as always, you’ve done everything perfectly.

“Alright, everything seems to be in place,” He hums, nodding as he hands back your laptop. You give him a grateful smile as you look up at him with your doe eyes. “Have it ready on Thursday and send this to Wanda as well,”

You nod before asking, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Bucky takes a sharp inhale as his mind, once again, clouds with inappropriate thoughts. Yes, Y/N, you can get under my desk and keep my cock in your mouth as I work.

He shakes his head along with his thoughts before dismissing you, “I think that’s all we need. Thank you, Y/N. I’ll call you when there’s anything else,”

You thank him and you gather your things before exiting his office, leaving Bucky on his own with his thoughts once again. He can still smell your lingering perfume in the air, and it’s enough to make his semi-hard member harden even more. He sighs as he makes his way to his bathroom, locking his office door on the way.

002

A/N: OMG OKAY.. she’s here :> Please send an ask if you want to be tagged!

As usual, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated –– Let me know what y’all think! It’ll really help me improve and provide better content for y’all. Keep safe!

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #avengers #marvel #captain america #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #bucky x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes reader insert

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diveronarpg · 4 years

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Congratulations, JULIE! You’ve been accepted for the role of OBERON with an approved FC change to Oscar Isaac. Admin Rosey: I don't know how many times I said I was possessed when I wrote Oberon but I very much was. I think you have to be a little bit possessed to write him because that's the kind of person he is; you have to be all in with him or perish. I don't know what it is about these types of enigmatic, almost ethereal characters that you understand - they have one foot in heaven and one foot in hell - but you get them at their core, Julie. Thank you for bringing my most beautiful son to the dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Julie

Age | 20

Preferred Pronouns | She/her

Activity Level | I mean, y’all know how it is. One draft a day usually does it for me, and at the bare minimum, I shoot for a few replies a week.

Timezone | MST

How did you find the rp? | I was perusing the ‘lsrpg’ tag, and the rest was history.

Current/Past RP Accounts | Lucien!

IN CHARACTER

Character | Oberon / Olivio Rivera -- with a fc change to Oscar Isaac, if it’s okay with you guys.

What drew you to this character? | There’s something about Olivio that makes him half-man half-hell, and that’s fascinating to me. I think, to a degree, he’s as human as the rest of us, with good parts and bad, but most people don’t show those parts so brazenly and manage to be half as discreet while doing it. This charm is pretty different from a character like Lucien’s, because it’s not a necessary charm. It’s not something he learned to do. It’s something he's always had in him for as long as he’s been -- it’s essential to the core of who he is as a person. There’s a dream-like quality to him that pulls you in and a nightmare-like quality that makes you take a step back when you get too close. He’s brutal in the way he orchestrates his own downfall just to get away from work he no longer has an interest in. He’s gentle with Theo, still grieving, because he knows they’re still working through something and it’s not entirely his place to poke and prod. Walking the thin line involved in this dichotomy is something that immediately caught my attention, and I’d love to explore both sides to him in the way Oberon deserves.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

1. I’d like to explore what Olivio has to sacrifice in order to ascend in the Capulets. He’s already lived a fair bit of his life without any of it really being impacted by the mobs of Verona, so his priorities and goals are likely pretty different from characters that have been here their entire lives. It’ll probably take a while before he builds relationships strongly enough in Verona that he has anything worth sacrificing, but as soon as he does, I’d like to yank them from under him, see how he fares -- if he’s worth becoming a soldier or an emissary in the way that Theodora thinks he can be. He’s strangely comfortable as an initiate, sitting at the bottom of the barrel, but how long is that comfort going to last him?

2. With Olivio, there’s definitely a two-faced element to him, in much the same way there’s a two-faced element to Oberon in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He’s brutal and gentle all in one, and I’d like to explore what dictates in him which part comes out where. He gets his work done and ties it off in a neat bow, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he shies away from the ugliest parts of himself. How does he fare in comparison to someone like Orpheus, a dead man, who had similar goals and aspirations as the Robin Hood of Verona but didn’t set out to become that sort of figurehead -- everyone remembers Orpheus. No one knows Olivio. I also think it’s entirely possible his two-faced nature could undermine his reputation and his overall climb towards a more concrete place in the Capulets, if he isn’t careful, and I’d love to see what the consequences are. It worked for him in Spain. It might not work for him here.

3. In the para sample, I allude a little to Olivio’s dream in the same way it’s alluded to in his biography -- this borderline fantastical dream of a better place, a better world, where the underdogs and the fantastical alike can come together and live in harmony. A place where he can taste honey in his mouth where there might have been blood. I’d like to explore Olivio’s past in reflection to his present. He’s had the same dream his entire life, worked towards it slowly but surely in his youth, and then he ended up sitting on top of an empire he didn’t expect to have and didn’t really want. He gets caught up in his own flaws, and it all crumbles apart right from underneath him, and I’d love to see if he’s doomed to repeat that in Verona or if things are really going to be different this time around.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I think so! As long as it serves a purpose, I’m happy to dip my hands in angst.

IN DEPTH

TW: VIOLENCE, DEATH

Cesar’s face is so heavily caked with blood that Olivio doesn’t think he could see through the red if he wanted to. His right eye is swollen. He’s missing some teeth. His breath is coming out in wheezes from a few broken ribs, and Olivio -- in spite of his shape, in spite of being three years Cesar’s junior -- is out of breath. They’d grappled for the pistol for some time only for it to go flying under a table somewhere when Cesar kicked it up. Now, staring each other down in an empty backroom in El Valenciano, they’re catching their breath. They’re both drenched in the vibrant pink of overhead lights. It could be a painting, he thinks. Something right out of sleep. He’s had dreams like this before, and they usually don’t end quite so badly.

It makes sense in Olivio’s head that Cesar wouldn’t go down without a fight. That’s fine. He never has. But Cesar knows that Olivio’s never liked losing. Even in drills and races and training exercises, even in the field, neck-to-neck, rifle-to-rifle, Olivio never gave him the chance to get ahead. So those few months where Olivio was falling from grace, slipping from his throne? They must have felt like winning to Cesar. He must have not even realized that the game was rigged from the start.

That’s fine, too. Olivio was always the brain of the operation. Cesar served his purpose as the brawn, the Lancelot to his Arthur.

“You should’ve let me leave, a year ago. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.” There’s a headache building at the back of his head. Stress or exhaustion. Both? He takes his own trembling hands and grapples for a glass of what looks like bourbon from one of the still-standing tables. Cesar watches him, licks his lips when Olivio swallows.

“No one leaves. You’ve never let anyone leave. You shouldn’t get the same luxury, Olivio.” Cesar spits the words out so angrily that Olivio’s almost convinced he believes them, but it’s still hard to hear him over the thrumming reverb of the music. Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree? Catchy. In this moment, in spite of the gore, Olivio thinks Cesar looks young again. Fuzzy around the edges, purple-pink-crimson, young. No more grey at the temples, crow’s feet around the edges. Just blood on his teeth, shifting from pink to blue in a moment’s notice.

“Where are you going to go?” Cesar asks, as he moves a few steps closer. He’s still holding the glass in a white-knuckled grip. His heart is going a million miles a minute. It’s not easy to kill a man with your bare hands, but he’s done it before. He’ll do it again. It feels right to do it this way, with his fists, rather than the barrel of a gun. He wraps his fingers in Cesar’s collar with his free hand and Cesar barely even jerks to meet the movement. He’s all dead weight. Olivio considers the question.

“I’ll go to Verona.”

“In Italy? Bah.” Cesar laughs, throat hoarse. Spittle paints Olivio’s face, but the disgust barely registers. “You always hated Italy -- shot down any business there every time.”

“I hear it’s nice this time of year.”

“You’re burning every bridge you have in Spain. When winter comes around there won’t be any coming back. This is it. You kill me and we’re done.” This feels right out of the pages of the novel. He wonders if maybe he should deliver some sort of dramatic monologue. Something about being brothers from the very beginning. Hold your head up! Moving on! “You’re going to regret it, and you won’t get to crawl back and apologize to me this time.”

Even Olivio’s two divorces weren’t this messy. Still, he leans in close. “It’s not my dream anymore. I’m just making sure it won’t be yours, either.” He searches Cesar’s face for something. Anything. An apology. An indication of guilt. A plea for mercy. The animal-like terror that comes into men moments before they die. They’d seen it a thousand times before, together, and they’d laughed about it over drinks. A shifting green light passes slowly over his eyes. The world goes seafoam.

Nothing. Just their shared breaths. Not even a do it. Olivio sighs. He lifts his hand holding the glass and brings it down. Cesar, to his credit, doesn’t scream. He just takes what he’s given and dies quietly, in the club they bought back when they thought they’d go somewhere bigger than Barcelona. Or maybe that was just him. It doesn’t take more than two minutes.

Olivio stands back, checks Cesar’s pulse, and then wipes his hands on his slacks, chest heaving.

The ‘ludes start to kick in just as he leaves the club, bloodied jacket in hand, a little later than he would have liked. The cleaners sweep in to wipe evidence away as soon as he’s stepped out of the room and towards the exit. Not a single employee looks at him as he leaves, and the people dancing on the floor hardly notice him. The doorman nods at him on his way out. The car waiting for Olivio at the curb takes him straight to the airport, and he barely has time to settle in his seat before he’s asleep. When he wakes, it’s to the sight of Verona and the river that runs right through it, the sun cresting overhead. He descends onto the tarmac cotton-mouthed, changed into clean clothes, and satisfied.

Cesar had been the last loose end. With his death everything in Spain has tied itself up into a neat bow. The ashes of whatever vision he and Cesar might have shared at some point would be gathered up and put into someone else’s hands. Marta’s, he hopes. She’d always been the most capable, in his mind. She’d been the one to tell him of Verona, originally, when she caught wind of what he was doing: razing everything he’d built. She’d been smart enough to stay loyal in the face of his personally orchestrated coup, and he let her live.

He just hopes she doesn’t take it for granted like he had. That she’ll lay out her own path and stick to it, instead of watching it build by itself and grow restless. Verona won’t be like that -- he’s sure of it. It has to be a new start, one he’ll be happy to die by.

In two days’ time --- and he doesn’t know this now, but he will look back at it and laugh --- he’ll kill an enemy of the Capulets in much the same way he killed Cesar, hooked on the sheer euphoria of his newfound love for the city, just outside a place achingly close to El Valenciano, and it won’t even get him in trouble. The Capulets will sweep him up before he has the time to come down from the high, and they’ll bring him into the fold without even knowing his name. He’ll start from the very bottom, and he’ll relish in it, because it’s been a long time since he had nothing.

What he does know: the Capulets are the key to this newfound dream of his, this new-and-shiny-glossy illusion, and Olivio Rivera will take whatever he can get in a city like this, so long as it means he doesn’t have to raze it to the ground.

Extras: [glass him] PLAYLIST / PINTEREST [cesar won’t remember this.]

#accepted #accepted: oberon

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penguin-writes-books · 5 years

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A Study in Fate - Chapter 4

"You WHAT?!" Amber screeched, moving toward Lucy across her bed.

"...Yeah," Lucy laughed, nodding. "It wasn't really the game plan, but..."

"How did everyone react?" Amber asked excitedly, clearly heavily excited to find out more.

"TJ started basically cackling," Lucy started, rolling her eyes fondly. "Buffy just kinda like...Looked shocked. Andi tried to come at me, and Cyrus looked like he was going to cry. Which kind of sucks, given that I actually kind of like Andi and Cyrus."

"God, we are going to have one hell of a first day at school," Amber sighed.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Lucy apologized, blushing bright red.

"It's fine, L. Not really your fault," Amber justified with a shrug of the shoulders. "Besides, what's a bad teen movie without a great teen rivalry?"

"Fair enough, honestly,” Lucy laughed, leaning her head against Amber's shoulder. “God, what would I do without you and Teej?”

“...Probably have a really cool story to tell at parties about how you absorbed your triplets in the womb?” Amber offered, resting her head on top of Lucy’s. Amber smiled softly at the feeling of her sister laughing into her shoulder; wrapping an arm around Lucy’s waist and pulling her closer.

“Oh my God, I hate you,” Lucy mumbled into her shoulder, covering her face with her hands as she laughed.

“I dunno man, should’ve absorbed me in the womb.”

“Amber, no!” Lucy shrieked, swatting blindly at Amber’s arm.

“Amber, yes,” she rebutted. “But, um, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. For a while now. Well, four three years.”

“Ambs, what’s going on?” Lucy asked quickly, noticing Amber’s telltale rambling, a sign of her heightened anxiety. “You know you can always talk to me.”

“I know. I know. I’m just… scared.”

“Hey.” Lucy took Amber’s hands, looking her in the eyes with a smile as she squeezed them. “You don’t ever have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Amb-”

“I’m gay,” Amber interjected. The second the words escaped her mouth, her shoulders fell, a breath of relief falling from her lips.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah, I am.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, smiling as she tugged Amber into a hug. “Does TJ know yet?”

“No,” Amber said quickly, shaking her head. “No one knows. Please don’t tell him.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you, A.”

“God, what am I gonna say to him?”

“Whatever the hell you want?” Lucy offered. “You’ll know when you’re ready to tell him.”

“And until then?” Amber asked, voice breaking slightly. “Do I just lie?”

“Amber. You are allowed to not tell him yet,” Lucy said. Her voice was firm and steady as she spoke, a telltale Lucy Eleanora Kippen trait that had never failed to calm her siblings. “You’re not lying to him. I promise.”

“Thanks, L.”

“Any time. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am starving,” Lucy chuckled, pulling Amber up.

“Didn’t we just have lunch?”

“Yes we did. Did lunch change how you feel about brownies?”

“You made brownies without me?” TJ asked, stepping into the kitchen. Lucy nodded with a grin, taking a bite of one.

“You best believe we did,” she laughed, shrieking as TJ tried to steal the brownie from her hand. “Ah! No!”

“Surrender the brownie! I’ll get it either way and you know it!”

“Over my dead body,” Lucy scoffed, pivoting under TJ’s arm and pulling the brownie from his hand. “I win!”

“Have y’all ever chilled a day in your damn lives?” Amber asked, laughing as she plopped a brownie into her mouth.

“Mmm...Maybe the 16 minutes before Teej was born?”

“I hate you too, Luce,” TJ said, throwing an arm around his sister’s shoulders and pulling her closer. Lucy grinned in spite of herself, untangling herself from her brother and sitting down next to Amber.

Amber reached blindly for her hand under the table, squeezing it tightly as TJ circled the island to stand across from them.

‘Now?’ Lucy mouthed to her, eyes widening in surprise.

‘When else?’ Lucy furrowed her eyebrows, moving her hand so she could feel Amber’s pulse under her first and middle fingers. Blood rushed quickly, almost aggressively, through her sister’s veins as her breathing quickened.

“Hey. You got this.”

“What the hell is happening with you two right now?” TJ asked, taking a bite of his brownie.

“I’m gay, TJ,” Amber said, voice steady and somewhat exasperated as she spoke.

“We been knew,” TJ laughed, shrugging and moving around the island to hug Amber tightly. “I love you, nerd.”

“Love you too,” Amber said, sighing in relief as TJ ruffled her hair. Lucy smiled gently at her siblings, ignoring the lump that had settled in her throat as she stood up to wash her plate.

She slid out of the room without either Amber or TJ noticing, tiptoeing upstairs and carefully collecting her dance bag.

“Take 2,” she whispered to herself, silently creeping down the stairs and outside. She quickly texted Emily to borrow the car, and then she was off. She wasn’t sure if the Good Hair Crew would be there, or if she’d been banned for assault in a dance studio, but she couldn’t really bother to care.

“You’re back,” a voice noted as she stepped inside. Glancing around, she found that the voice had come from a woman stepping out of the studio in front of her.

“Erm, yeah,” Lucy said, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry! I’m Maya Beck, one of the teachers here.”

“Lucy,” she said, shaking Maya’s hand.

“I saw you dancing before; I was wondering if you’d sign up for any of my classes? Season starts this week.”

“Oh… I don’t know if-”

“If you sign up for a strength class, a conditioning class, pas de deux, classical ballet, and advanced pointe, I’ll give you a key to the studio, so you can practice whenever you want.”

“What would the schedule be like?” Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, each class meets five days a week for an hour each class. So, you’d be dancing a 25 hour week, more during performance prep.”

“I think I can swing that,” Lucy nodded. “How many classes would I have each day?”

“Uhhh… Let’s see.” Maya picked up a schedule from a table behind her, scanning it. “Three classes on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Five on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, unable to keep from grinning.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lucy nodded, accepting the schedule she was given and pulling her wallet out of her bag. She handed Maya her credit card without a second thought, following her to a desk to her left. “Why not?”

“Fair enough,” Maya chuckled, handing her card to the receptionist and turning back to Lucy. “Your classes will start on Monday.”

“I’ll see you then?”

“Yep! I’ll be teaching your Pas de Deux, Pointe, and Strength classes. My wife will actually teach Ballet and Conditioning.”

“See you Monday,” Lucy said, taking her card back and stepping into the studio she’d reserved, grin still on her face.

Naturally, the second Lucy pulled on her pointe shoes, a noise had her glancing at the door.

“Jesus Christ,” she huffed. “What do you want, Driscoll?”

#andi mack #a study in fate fic #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #luffy #lucy kippen #buffy driscoll #ambi #amber kippen

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littlemeowmeowschimmy · 5 years

Text

Brushes and Kisses [Taehyung x Reader] part 6

credit: Taenetto

Requests opened // prev~master list~next

Genre: Cute // Fluff

Summary: Moving away from to South Korea was rather eye opening, yet scary for you. You received a job at BigHit for your special effects makeup and joined a growing company. As your time continues there, someone catches your eye...you slowly start to fall in love with them. But is it the right thing to do?

A/N: I’m not sure how long I will continue to write most of my series, as most of them don’t get many notes. It’s conflicting but then again I don’t want to abruptly end it. So please let me know what y’all are thinking. It would be so helpful.

»»————-　★　————-««

Taehyung became completely concerned when he saw you avoiding him. At first, he brushed it off as you trying to wake up, but when it was constantly happening he didn’t know what to make of it. Taehyung was an extremely emotional person, so he took this very personally. He felt as if you were avoiding him because you didn’t like him anymore. Because he was showing his emotion so easily, it made it quite easy for Jimin to step in and speak to him.

He pulled him away for a second, making sure that no one else was around them. Their conversation went on it for hours it seemed. You were hiding out in the bathroom as this was going on. Mostly because you didn’t want to rush out there and act like everything was fine. Instead, your head was spinning and your heart was aching. Everything was slowly starting to come into place here, you didn’t want to mess anything up.

Your head was screaming at you to get your ass back out there, but your heart was telling you to cry over it. Coming to South Korea has been such a privillage and you were so nervous about messing it up. Especially now since you were working with one of the rising groups here. It didn’t help that the following they were creating was frightening in their own rights.

You ran your fingers through your hair, messing it up completely. You were sitting on the floor with your knees pulled up to your chest as your head was in your thighs. Everything to make you feel better wasn’t helping and you were stuck sitting there feeling anxious. You remembered that your mother had always told you that whomever you fall in love with you can’t help it.

But this time, you wished you did. The funny thing was, you weren’t even dating Taehyung and you were already having problems with this. Since you were in the bathroom a little too long, one of your coworkers came to find you. They asked if you were okay and you obviously lied to her. You instantly popped up, unlocking the stall and moving out.

Just as you moved out, Jimin came walking out with Taehyung. You locked eye contact for the first time and you felt your heart in your throat. You wanted to back away, hide again because you couldn’t handle seeing him. His eyes were dark with concern and his bright smile didn’t show. Instead, he turned away quickly, moving himself forwards away from you. You paused for a second, grabbing onto your coworker’s wrist and pulling her close.

It didn’t occur to you that you were crying until you saw her touch your cheek. She brushed her thumb under your right eye and asked you again if you were fine. This time you told her about how your heart was falling for Taehyung, however you were worried about the complications between the two of you. Her face fell as she felt empthitic for you.

She pulls you into a hug, pressing you against her as more tears flowed down your cheeks. This time, you were softly sobbing into her. She was trying to shush you because it was very unprofessional to be crying at work. You knew that you should’ve kept a mask on, but when you saw Taehyung everything came crashing down.

Which landed you now in your apartment with your knees hugged up to your chest. Since you were in Korea, you started listening to the radio and music playing around to help you with your Korean. This time, you pulled up your spotify to listen to your music in your native tongue.

The music was blarring through your headphones, making sure everything was blocked out. You didn’t want anyone charging in and talking to you because you need your time alone. Your heart felt like it was about to come out of your chest and your mood was completely sour.

You were laughing at yourself because you made a promise not to fall in love. Again, you weren’t even dating Taehyung, yet you had already felt like you were going through a breakup. It was like he had told you he was cheating on you and now you were dealing with the heartache. However, that wasn’t the case. Instead you were falling in love with him, well you were already in love with him.

Or were you in love with the idea of him? Where you in love with the idea of dating such a beautiful man? But then again, you had to tell yourself that your life was slowly starting to pick itself up. You had been given this great opptrounity and you weren’t going to mess it up because of your heart. You told yourself that you were going to push every lovely thought about Taehyung out of your head.

But remembering how he looked at you. That concerned look in his eye, his face fallen, and even his eyes a little red. You even noticed that for him it seemed as if it was hard to look at you. Just the thought that he was struggling with something that you caused made you fall into a deeper dispair. You didn’t want to think that you were causing Taehyung pain, he wasn’t supposed to feel the heartaches.

Or at least that’s what you believed. You believed that you weren’t good enough for Taehyung. You believed that you would loose everything because of this. Work was always something that became important to you. The fact that you were considering to let your heart take over your goals was devistating. You rolled over, pulling your phone along with you. Your pillows comforting you along with your music.

All you ever wanted was to be successful...but why did it hurt so much to fall in love?

»»————-　★　————-««

Taehyung began to get extremely worried about you. It had been a two weeks since you spoken to him, let alone a two weeks since you showed up to work. Your coworkers told him that you went back home to [Home Country], instead you had really stayed in your apartment.

You had told BigHit that you were struggling with something and you requested for some time off, apologizing extensively. However, they understood you completely. But that also meant that you left the boys, particularly Taehyung in the dark.

Two weeks ago Taehyung was venting his concerns to Jimin. Eventually crying about it because he didn’t know what was going on with you. He wanted to comfort you if you were struggling with anything. Taehyung even realized that he had fallen in love with you, despite the fact that the boys were joking around with him. It was rather adorable and he knew you found it adorable.

Since you were advoiding him at the shoot, he was worried that you weren’t in the right state of mind. Now learning that you had taken time off, Taehyung felt very upset about it. He looked at his phone, pulling up WhatsApp because he knew that would be the only way to chat with you.

Taehyung looked at his phone one last time, his heart aching. Just the small conversation between you two really caused him to sit there staring. He even brought a hand up to his chest, pressing it against his chest as he tried to find whatever was bothering through your conversation. Everything was confusing for him. You were confusing him, his heart was confusing him. Taehyung didn’t know how to properly explain it other than

He was hurting and he mostly blamed it on himself.

#littlemeowmeowschimmy #bangtanarmynet #bts reader insert #bangtan reader insert #bts #bangtan #bts request #bangtan request #kim taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts v #bangtan kim taehyung #bangtan v #kim taehyung x reader #bts kim taehyung x reader #bts v x reader #bangtan kim taehyung x reader #bangtan v x reader

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thewhiterabbit42 · 6 years

Text

The Messenger’s Messenger

PART 1

Written for: @authoressskr Request: Gadreel x reader x Gabriel, outdoor garden, hot pink

Warnings/tags: established relationship, polyamory, non-angelcest, some angst

Word Count: 1k-ish

Author’s Note: so this drabble became a mini series WHO SAW THAT COMING. This part is unbeta’d. All mistakes are mine.

Also, I don’t have poly tags, so if you’re on a squad and don’t want to be tagged, let me know.

Special thanks to @nobodys-baby-now for help with the title so I could post something for y’all sooner rather than later.

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my written permission. Giving credit does NOT count. Reblogging is ok.***

Next Chapter>>

You sat on your bed, back against the headboard, as you perused an ancient grimoire on tracking magic. Your eyes remained riveted to the page, but you were having a hard time concentrating, most of your energy spent on ignoring the angel perched at the foot of your mattress.

Gadreel, however, was unruffled by your pointed disregard.

“I have a surprise for you,” he baited, finally breaking the silence. You glared over the top of the spellbook. Whatever it was, you weren’t biting. You knew it was just another ploy to try and coax you out of your room. Nevermind you hadn’t left your house in days or taken a case in even longer. Fresh air was overrated anyway.

“Unless it’s playing a game of pin the angel blade on the archangel, I will leave when I’m damn well ready,” you grumbled. And not a moment sooner.

He sighed, appearing in the blink of an eye next to you. “You can’t stay angry forever.”

You snorted. That showed what he knew.

He hooked a finger beneath your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. “Or stabby,” he chided.

You pouted. You knew you were being childish, refusing to let go like this, but how did he expect you to feel when half of your heart had up and vanished?

Part of you could acknowledge you should’ve been grateful to have even experienced a relationship with a celestial being, let alone two. How Gadreel and Gabriel had come to love you enough to share you was a mystery you doubted you’d ever solve. Then again, maybe it the great cosmic enigma you made it out to be. Maybe it was as simple as Gabriel had never loved you enough to care. That was the implication, considering you’d woken up one morning to a half-empty bed and a haphazardly scrawled message on the whiteboard attached to your fridge.

If you had been an angel yourself, the entire county would’ve been without power for a week. The jerk could have at least pretended to give a shit and snapped up a halfway decent Dear John letter, given a false apology, given any attempt at an explanation. Even it’s not you, it’s me was better than This was a mistake. Don’t come after me.

“Don’t,” Gadreel warned. “To hold anger is one thing, but I will not allow bitterness to take root in your heart.”

You scowled at him. Mostly because he was right. You may have felt like half of you was missing, but the other half was still sitting right next to you, unfailingly patient, as always.

With a sigh, you let your features relax, your eyes dropping sheepishly to your lap. “I’m sorry,” you told him, threading your fingers through his. “I just…”

“Miss him?” He guessed.

“I was going to say want to light him on fire with holy oil and toast some marshmallows over his sorry ass, but sure,” you admitted, sadness bleeding over the sullen edge in your tone. “That too.”

“I miss you,” he declared, cupping your cheek with his free hand. He stroked along your face, sage green orbs gazing longingly at you before his thumb deviated course. It dipped lower, tracing the contour of your bottom lip, and it wasn’t until something sparked low in your stomach, pushing back against your grief and frustration that you realized just how much you missed him, too.

As soon as Gabriel had disappeared, Gad had followed suit, though his absence was far more noble. At least you assumed it was. He hadn’t spoken a word about it, but where else could he be other than trying to track down his ass of a brother to get answers?

You hadn’t asked him to. He just had, and between his frequent absences and your foul mood, you hadn’t touched each other since the breakup.

He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to yours in a way that was wholly Gadreel: sweet and unobtrusive; filled to the brim with intense yet tender sentiment. There was always so much carefully contained beneath his calm exterior, and today he felt filled to the brim. Yet, he didn’t push for anything more, simply savored the contact, using it to dismantle your fury kiss by gentle kiss until only a few embers of it remained.

“Come with me,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “Let me help fix this.”

There was nothing to fix, though you appreciated how much he wanted to help. He could do just as much by staying in with you and maybe giving you one of his infamous backrubs. You drew back to tell him as much, but the look on his face stole the breath from your lungs. It was as if you were everything, like nothing else existed in that moment for him except for you, and it expertly masked the tiredness clinging to the darks of his eyes.

“My heart, please.”

Well, shit. There went your plan to set a new record on how many days you could go without wearing pants.

“No more arguments. No questions. Just trust me. Deal?”

Gadreel had to be one of the most persuasive people you knew for many reasons. He was a good study of others. He held a deep empathy for other beings, allowing him to get into their mind set more easily. He was genuine and respectful, and had a way of putting people at ease. Most of all, he was trustworthy, so much so that any mention of trust had simply become a trump card with you, and often all he had to do was ask for something. It seemed unnecessary that he would use it now, and he rarely did anything that was unnecessary.

You regarded him a little more closely. “What’s going on?”

The look he gave you suggested if you spent one more minute in bed fighting him, he’d be smothering you with one of the pillows.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Alright fine, but I catch wind of any funny business, and I’m reneging,” you warned.

Next Chapter>>

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @li0nh34rt @baritonechick @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met @blondecoffeecake @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely @the-moose-of-baskerville @tistai @room-with-a-cat @authoressskr @revwinchester @flufy07 @greieba @whinywingedwinchester @tardis-is-mine @jadesid @ccasnovak @tangle-of-ivy @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel @angelofwinchester17 @crowleys-poppet-queen-of-assgard @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim

Gabe Squad:

@bloodstained-porcelain-doll @lacqueluster @samikitten @a-vast-african-plain @kazosa @carryon-wayward-winchester @nobodys-baby-now @acarpouschimerical @ludwigs-a-monster @archangelgabriellives @a-wing-and-a-pen @tricksterxangel @cipherwheeldecoder @thinkwritexpress-official @megasimpleplan4ever @azlinh @troubletrumble @randommotions @the-bleeding-rose @fruitiplierq @gabrielthemessanger @pizzamanteachings @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @spnimpalaimagines @koithings @booknerd1324 @the-kryomancer @rachdubs @thislittlewhitelight @hiddles-and-skittles @karichanarts @sherlockedtash88 @multy-fandom-lover @archangelashiah @calamitychaos @kissmeimadragonlord @somanyfandomstochoosefrom @erisunderthemoon

#gadreel x reader x gabriel #gadreel x reader #gabriel x reader #supernatural #spn fanfic #reader insert #rabbit writes #The Messenger's Messenger

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