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talltalesandbedtimestories · 5 months

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“Person of Interest” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part 3 (Final) of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series (Read Part 1 Here, Read Part 2 Here)

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader

Tags: Fluff and Flirting, First Kiss (Finally! Get it Beau!)

Word Count: 2300

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Anonymous Gifts/Flowers" square.

Writing about Beau for the first time was so much fun. He's got such a sweet, gentle, charming, goofy way about him on the show. I am at least making sure in my story that Beau gets his kiss. (I have also been asked by a friend to maybe have a little "Big Sky After Dark" epilogue at some point. Will see.) I've gotten a lot of inspiration from my bingo card. Thoroughly enjoyed participating and hope to mark off every square... at some point.

Also, diving into Helena history for this date I came a lot of interesting facts and fun places along Last Chance Gulch Street.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: “Big Sky”/ABC)

Since you’d asked Beau out on a date - apparently, that was news to you - it was also up to you to pick the when and where. That was how he'd left it that night around the fire, anyway, with a wink and a smile.

It had been a busy few days after the fourth of July for the both of you. But, you’d settled on a Sunday evening, crossing fingers there were no abductions or bank robberies.

There was never a dull moment in Helena.

You’d decided on a time and place. The plan was to meet at The Windbag Saloon and Grill. You sat at the bar, sipping your Huckleberry Mule.

Your eyes dart to the door every time it swishes open. When you finally spot him entering, a sharp inhale steadies you. The nerves that wound you up all day threaten to release fast enough to spin you like a top upon the stool.

His gaze skates over the scene once, twice. The double-take and zoning in on your face when he clocks you forces you to exhale. You wish it didn’t sound like a frightened puppy. Thank goodness he can’t hear it. Recollection fills his face, and that sunbeam smile melts you.

He takes the stroll over. You internally confirmed sitting at the farthest end of the bar was the right decision. It gives you ample time to enjoy the view of the sheriff and prepare to be devastated by all that handsome up close.

He has a full, bouncy head of hair you’d kill for. Scratch that. You’d kill to run your fingers through it. His denim jacket with a fleece collar and hints of the warm and fuzzy liner has you imagining him offering it to you on a chilly walk. You only want to get a better look at the broad shoulders and chest underneath. The shine of his silver belt buckle directs you further south for probably a second longer than would have been appropriate to stare.

You sip a little more liquid courage.

“Did I get the time wrong?” he asks, confused and already looking apologetic when he meets you at the bar. He strums a few fingers on the countertop.

“Nope.” With a head shake, you offer the adjacent stool with an outstretched hand. “I was extra early. And you were early.”

He sighs and slides in beside you. “If you’re early, you’re on time. That’s what I was taught, anyway.”

“Slow day at the office?” you ask.

The bartender drops a coaster and a napkin in front of Beau and asks what he’s having. He requests a beer, then returns to your question in a flash. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

You decide to try the all-knowing approach. “You had time to have flowers delivered to Linda Devonshire.”

The caught-off-guard smirk gives him away. “Me? Flowers to Linda?” He tuts. “Why would I send flowers to a married woman?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because you were as ecstatic as everyone else in the park, knowing she was packing up and heading back home. I’ll bet you had the date circled on your calendar.” You spin in the seat a fraction. Inadvertently, you swish a knee over his denim-covered thigh while attempting to cross your legs.

He reacts a fraction to the touch, staring at the floor between you. His lips purse, and his brows lower. “Well, being as happy as the rest of those in Black Sandy State Park is not enough motive to suspect I’m the one that sent the flowers. Not very good detective work. Need a little more proof to convict.”

“Hm.” You shrug and wait for him to prod you more for your reasoning.

Instead, he licks his lips and smiles. “I didn’t recognize you dressed as a civilian.”

You straighten up and toss the hair back over your shoulder dramatically. “Didn’t think I could clean up this well?”

He shakes his head, all serious. “Nah. I just didn’t think you could get any prettier.”

That shuts you up.

“Yellowfin?” The server asks the both of you, now at a table after finishing your first round of drinks at the bar.

Your hand raises.

After the sandwich plate lands in front of you, the server confirms to Beau, “And the Vigilante for you?”

Beau nods, rubbing hands together, taking in the contents of his meal with high brows. “Yes, indeed.”

“Anything else right now?”

Beau points to you in wait, but you shake your head.

“All good for now, thanks,” he answers.

You groan, looking at Beau’s burger. “There is so much going on over there.”

He lifts the bun. “Yeah. Candied jalapenos. Grilled ham and onions. An over-easy egg.”

“Not to mention the half-pound of beef underneath all that.”

He resituates the bun and wiggles it in place. “Don’t forget the huckleberry barbecue sauce. I may regret it later. Worth it.”

You laugh. “I hope so, for your sake. Otherwise, this may be a pretty early night.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think anything could mess up tonight. Even my poor menu choices.”

The certainty in his voice makes you smile. “Kind of surprising you haven’t stumbled onto this spot yet since you’ve been in town. Considering how close it is to the sheriff’s office.”

“Well, the Boot Heel is where I usually end up with Hoyt and Cassie.”

You nod. “There’s a lot of history along Last Chance Gulch Street. Worth checking out and getting acquainted. Being the new sheriff in town and all.” You bite into a french fry.

“Hey, I did some research.” He clamps his large, beefy hands around the large, beefy burger. “This street was between a bunch of mining claims, where a lot of gold prospectors got rich.” He nods and confirms, “Give me a second with this, if you don’t mind?”

You laugh and wave both hands in permission. “Of course.”

He bites down and chews. Eyes close. Deep in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he mumbles around the burger. “This was the worst idea in the best way.”

“Take it easy there.” You try to jest. Truthfully, you wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying the show.

He swallows and sips on his second beer. “Man, it’s good I walked ten minutes from the office. I’m gonna need fresh air to clear my head and some exercise after all this.”

“Maybe I can interest you in a little walk down Last Chance Gulch after this.” Your suggestion raises his cheeks with a grin. You add, “History lesson and all that to accompany your calorie burning.”

“I’d like that.” He dabs the barbecue sauce off the corner of his mouth. He thumbs towards the outside of the restaurant. “Know who the lady is on The Windbag sign?”

“Oh, that’d be ‘Big Dorothy’.”

“Big Dorothy, huh? She the original owner?”

“Not of the saloon. She ran a business on these premises. Got closed down in 1973.” You sample your sandwich and watch Beau enjoy another bite of his burger. You wait until he’s thoroughly invested in the act, swallow, and then continue. “It was a brothel.”

His face stills in mid-chew.

You giggle.

He exaggerates his munching for a few seconds more.

“The place was called ‘Dorothy’s Rooms’. She was actually very well respected in Helena. Donated to lots of charities, and then the police had to go and raid her establishment and shut it all down. You may wanna tread lightly, Sheriff. Dorothy’s ghost might not appreciate your kind under her roof.”

“Noted.” He clears his throat.

Your guided walking tour doesn’t have the intended effect of calorie burning. Instead, you sit with Beau in a green wooden booth at The Parrot Confectionery. You’re splitting a Parrot Special Sundae.

“Oh, man.” Beau indulges in his first spoonful. It’s wondrous to behold how much enjoyment the man has with his food.

The evening has been filled with light and easy conversation to start. Lots of laughter mixed with information gathering from both of you as the date wore on. You spill about your life, years back, out west. You aren’t ready to divulge much about the relationship you left behind except the marriage had not worked out as expected. Beau’s a bit guarded as well with specific details. Something had happened on the job, though, in Houston. Something alarming enough to have him quit the force. And you think it might be one of the reasons he was now divorced.

Beau’s eyes sparkle. “I’ll have to take Em here.”

You nod. “Definitely.” He lights up every time he talks about his daughter. It’s sweet and makes him even more endearing. It almost makes you feel bad thinking naughty thoughts as his tongue laboriously licks the fudge off his spoon.

“Gotta say, darlin’, it feels like you’ve given me the key to the city tonight.”

“And plenty of indigestion.”

“I told ya. Worth it,” he insists. It’s his turn to watch you eat a few spoonfuls. You focus on the strawberry scoop. He seems to gravitate toward the huckleberry flavor and completely avoid the split banana underneath it all.

“Well, we could walk a little more to the end of the street after this,” you suggest. “I mean, the old fire tower is down that way. But you’ve gotta know about that. Impossible to miss.”

“Oh, yeah, I know all about the Guardian of the Gulch.”

You smile. “Did I forget to mention that Linda Devonshire dropped off the flowers she got to the ranger’s office before she left?”

The spoon Beau is holding clinks the sundae bowl. “You did forget to mention that.”

You swirl your spoon in the vanilla. “Well, she thanked us and said the flowers would probably hold up better staying with us than the trek back home. And she also read the note aloud to see if we had any idea who the anonymous sender was.”

Beau sighs. “Of course she did.”

You tap a finger on your chin. “What was it exactly? Oh, yes. The note said, ‘Thank you for your excellent matchmaking skills. ~ a Guardian of the Gulch’. She was completely perplexed by it. Said she hadn’t gone out of her way to coordinate any dates or encounters in Helena. Didn’t know anyone well enough for that. But we did get to hear about how she’s introduced about a dozen people to their current spouses in her home state.”

Beau lifts both shoulders. A sheepish smile forms. “If it hadn’t been for Linda’s complaints, I might not have gotten all those chances to get to know you a little better. And we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

“This all sounds very silver lining thinking.”

“I try. On occasion.”

You roll into a parking spot in the lot behind the Sheriff’s office, engine idling. Beau’s in the passenger seat.

“Well, I hope I didn’t keep you out too late.” He leans into the backrest. A couple of creaks emit from his spine. “I appreciate you walking with me up and down Last Chance Gulch after dessert. Between the beer and the beef and the banana split, every step counts.”

You smile. “This was nice. We should do it again sometime.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off, “I know, you accept.”

The warmth of his fingers gliding over yours, gripping the steering wheel, tingles your skin. Half in the night’s shadow, his face scolds with scrunched lips and slitted lids. “Give a man a chance to ask you out properly, would ya?”

You laugh to soothe your nerves. “I didn’t realize I’d asked you out again. Hell, I didn’t realize I’d asked you out the first time.”

He tilts his head. “I may have pulled the trigger on that one. Guess I’m finding it hard to be patient when it comes to…” He trails off, quiets, and looks serious. You realize he’s staring at your mouth.

“Sheriff!”

You both flinch in your seats. Deputy Poppernak is heading towards the passenger side of your car. Beau straightens, and you oblige the greeting and roll down his window.

“Hey, Poptop.” Beau razzes.

“Thought you’d left hours ago.” Poppernak halts five feet from the car, spots you, and waves. “How’s things going, Ranger?”

“Just fine, Deputy. How about you?” you ask.

“Can’t complain. Done for the day after a lot of paperwork. Headin’ home.”

The three of you nod in unison for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

“Okay.” Poppernak offers a friendly salute. “Night.”

You watch the deputy hop into a family van and drive off rather quickly.

“Well,” Beau sighs, “this is gonna be all over the office in the morning.”

“This?” you question. Beau eyes you. “How do you think they’re gonna classify this?”

He smiles. “Well, I guess this would be me spending some time with a person of interest. And actually, I think I’m gonna need to spend a lot more time with this person of interest. So, would you give me the pleasure of taking you out on another date, darlin’?”

All you can do is nod. His mossy green eyes sparkle. Cool fingertips round the shell of your ear. You shiver as he traces your jawline, moving in to close the gap. And then, nothing but you breathing in his warmth as he exhales softly into the kiss. It’s gentle and careful. But he tests how your lips fit and press against each other from a few angles. He settles for a spell and feasts on your mouth.

He pulls away. His fingers trail from your chin after a sweet pinch. “Are you free next weekend?”

You nod, dazed.

He grins. “Good. I’ll pick you up at your place if you’re comfortable with that?”

You nod again.

“Thank you for the ride.” He hops out of the car and closes the door with a soft click. Leaning into the still-open window he leaves you with, “Be careful headin’ home.”

“You too, Beau.”

He smiles from ear to ear, taps the window sill, and walks to his jeep. You can’t help but wait until he slides into the driver’s seat and gives you a wave. You shift into drive and leave the lot.

You can’t remember much of the actual ride home. Your mind is filled only with thoughts of Sheriff Beau Arlen. They make you smile. Hum along to the radio. You’re light as a feather and full of hope for what’s to come.

All because of a Guardian of the Gulch.

~ The End ~

#jacklesversebingo23 #beau arlen x reader #fanfic #fluff #flirting

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cyberhades · 2 years

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Bloody Kisses ੈ♡˳ | Eddie Munson x Vampire! Fem! Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (use condoms mates), oral (male receiving), dirty talk, overstimulation, reader biting Eddie.

A/N: many people know that I absolutely love vampires and i've never seen any vampire! reader x Eddie, I always see the opposite. So here's it's a different thing.

THE CLOCK HAS HIT THE TWELVETH CHIME, it was fullest midnight on a Friday with a full moon in the sky, its light seemed to glow silvery. Hawkins... really who cares about Hawkins?

You did live there because unfortunately you grew up in that place but you didn't feel at home, you didn't feel at peace. You would love to move to Transylvania and live with other vampires, because there was your place in the world. The place where you feel safe and comfortable, Transylvania sounds like home. Home sweet home.

You lived in a big house that was in a condominium in Hawkins. A dark house, gloomy on the outside and with black silk curtains on the inside, to veto the passage of excess light. Vampire life was even more comfortable than you thought, there was nothing to complain about at the moment.

On the record player in the living room some random vinyl was playing. Something between Type O Negative and Depeche Mode.

Your doorbell rang, who could it be at that hour? It was already midnight and a few minutes.

Halfway through you stopped and thought. You already imagined who it would be and when you looked through the peephole you were completely sure of your thoughts. A mischievous smile began to spread across your face, following the line at the corner of your lips.

You opened the door to find an ideal combo of messy hair, denim vest, Hellfire shirt, assorted rings and a scent of nicotine with some woodsy perfume. Right there, standing in front of your door, leaning on the straightener waiting for you to open it.

— Mr Munson... — you gave a short laugh. But that already showed all your altruism. — To what do I owe the honor of having you here in my house at these hours?

— I need you very much... — you already understood what he meant by that and the mischievous smile that was on your face became even more evident. — Can I?

He pointed to the door and you stepped to the side, letting him in. The moment he was walking through that oak door you held open you giggled. A giggle that was loaded with all your perversion.

— Did you perk up on the fresh blood, vampire? — he questioned invitingly, removing his denim vest and leaving it on a chair.

— You know I love your blood baby — you said, licking your bottom lip as you closed the door.

He was watching your every move, and you were aware of it. He found you even more irresistible wearing that black silk lingerie and that thin red robe that didn't cover your body, just made the lingerie more evident.

The way you had met was pretty normal, as people usually know each other. In a store, in line at the market, bumping into each other on the street, mutual friends... but the way it went was pretty much better than what you expected. It didn't take long for your vampire charm to catch the metalhead's heart.

Eddie had sat on the burgundy carpet in the living room and was taking a sip of a whiskey he'd poured into a glass. You could see the way he was stressed and from afar you could hear his heartbeat that wasn't the least bit rhythmic.

— What happened my dear? — you walked up to him, sitting on the carpet.

— That shitty school... I hate this town love, I really do — he took a deep breath and took another swig of whiskey as he ran his hand over his face in frustration. — I can't take this city anymore. They're always judging me and the Hellfire guys.

You felt a lot of compassion for Eddie and you knew how out of place and lost he felt in that town, because you felt the same way. You took his hand in return and left a gentle kiss.

— You will get rid of this city and everyone who is part of Hellfire will stop being judged. You'll see... didn't you say this was your year? — you held his chin gently looking at him in a way that calmed him down.

— 86' baby! — you said together and you both grinned like idiots.

Eddie finished his whiskey and set the glass on the glass table.

— I like you — he smiled sweetly. His smile was something exceptional, something you could spend all day looking at.

— I like you too honey — you said back, caressing his face and seeing the way he calmed down with that. In fact he was more relaxed and calmer being with you, so much so that now his heartbeats were rhythmic.

Eddie lay down on the soft carpet in the living room and pulled you into his chest, making you laugh at the sudden movement. He hugged you as you lay comfortably on top of him.

That metalhead was a little more than what he looks like. He was a guy who liked to talk, smoke weed, listen to heavy metal, play Dungeons & Dragons, but he also was the guy who liked to receive some love sometimes, talk about life or make silly jokes to make you laugh.

Eddie felt good knowing he was important.

— Does my metalhead lover need some love? — you said, settling on top of him and studying that face. That beautiful face with chocolate brown eyes.

— Yes... I do — he answered you with that puppy look.

— I'll give you what you deserve darling.

Your lips were now on Eddie's lips and somehow it felt like they were massaging him as they "danced" to the rhythm of lust and desire. His tongue explored your mouth, sliding over your tongue as well as your lips. A low pop sounded in the room along with the music playing on the vinyl at a lower volume.

Your hands were resting on his face, cupping those soft cheeks. His hands were moving up your thighs and up to your ass, he loved to squeeze because he knew how soft it was. It was no mystery that he loved your body, loved every bit of that work of art.

— Can you bite me baby? — he whispered in your ear.

— You know I can, my love — you whispered back and started trailing kisses down his jaw that went all the way up to his neck.

Turning someone into a vampire didn't just have to bite. You had to bleed from the wound your fangs had inflicted, so taking Eddie's blood was something you could do without worrying about him humanity. You knew how much that turned him on and it made you even more, after all his blood was sweet.

The metalhead was already moaning and with his eyes closed, eager for the next touch.

You brushed his hair away from his neck and licked the skin. That "simple" touch was able to make him want more, as it squeezed your thighs.

— Are you ready? — you asked, placing kisses on the crook of his neck.

— I'm always ready for you, princess.

You smiled against his warm, desire-ridden skin. Soon you felt him whimper in pain but in the best possible way and squeeze your thighs even tighter with those big warm hands with detailed, cool, well-designed rings. Your fangs slid along the inside of his flesh and your soft lips were now on his skin.

His blood was now flowing over your tongue and down your throat in a way that seemed to invade all your senses. Your pupils dilate at the taste of that viscous, metallic-sweet liquid.

You stopped sucking his blood and licked the tiny holes your fangs had left in his smooth skin. The blood wasn't running down and smearing your carpet now. You sat on his lap now so you could observe him better, he was a little flushed and very happy.

— Do you like it? — you asked taking a pillow that was on the couch and putting it on the floor for him to lay his head on. After all, you cared for him, he was your favorite human, and he would always get excellent treatment.

— I did, baby — he sighed. He was always a little out of breath after you fed.

— It was a kind of obvious question... this right here won't let you lie — you swayed lightly in his lap feeling the erection that was under those dark and ripped jeans.

He closed his eyes tightly and bit his lip, leaning his head back a little.

— Baby don't keep torturing me... — he asked needily.

— Where are your manners, Munson? And the magic word?

— Please... — he practically said in a supplication.

— Good... — you said, bending down a little and licking his bottom lip.

Your hands went to the hem of the shirt he was wearing and you quickly pulled it off his body, making his chest so bare and exposed. It was amazing how beautiful he was, every detail of his body was beautiful, even his birthmarks and the trail of hair that ran from his belly button to his crotch. His hands that were on your thighs went to the thread that held your red robe, then undid it and removed it.

— I love this lingerie... — he said filled with desire seeing the way that black lingerie molded your curves, making them even more perfect.

One of his hands went to the clasp of your bra that was right in the front, in the gap between your breasts. Quickly, in a slightly brusque movement, he pulled, opening and making your nipples reveal.

— I know what you want... — you said in a teasing tone while massaging one of your breasts. — Come here, my love.

Eddie got up and straightened up and pushed you closer, admiring your breasts before starting to suck on your nipples violently as the smack of his mouth on your flesh echoed through the entire room. He seemed to be thirsty for more and more and your moans were just the stimulation he needed.

He hugged your back tightly while his face was on your breasts, sucking them horny and making you totally wet, soaking your panties. You had sensitive nipples and he knew how to get to your soft spot.

With complete resolve, you made him lie back on the floor, with his head on the pillow, and began to unbuckle his belt. Then you unzipped the jeans he was wearing and pulled them down along with his boxers. The way his erection practically popped out of his pants was a beautiful sight to behold.

His cock was hard and throbbing with the rosy glans wet with pre-cum. Best of all, you were the reason he was like this.

You kissed his belly making him whimper and swear under his breath. The kisses went down until it reached his cock. And believe me, you knew how to drive him crazy with just that.

You stuck your tongue out and licked it from base to tip, making him practically shiver. Your tongue was now venturing into his pre-cum wet glans, passing over and not swallowing him as he wanted. You would lightly masturbate him and look at his face, knowing that was enough to drive him crazy with your touch.

— Please... — he asked in an even sly tone, if you can put it that way.

That was enough for you to finally start sucking his cock. Your face going up and down, accommodating his length as much as you could. Eddie Munson was big, that was a fact. He held your hair so that nothing got in your way while you did that for him.

— Fuck... you do it so good... — he moaned and swore at the feel of your hot, wet mouth making his cock slide down your throat.

Low sucking noises were joining the sound of music playing on the vinyl. There was no better mood than that for the two of you. His cock was throbbing in your mouth and you were sucking as best you could. Sometimes you even ran your tongue over the glans because you knew that was a sensitive spot for him.

Eddie could tell with all the conviction in the world that there was no better feeling than having you suck on him while your long, pointed nails lightly scratched his thighs.

— S-Shit! Stop, stop, I'm gonna cum! — he pleaded, feeling the apex approaching.

You stopped and stared at him as if he were prey and you were an abominable beast, ready to devour him.

— I-I wanna cum inside of you... — he asked and then remembered how he should have good manners. — Please...

— Since you asked so nice... — you gave a malicious laugh that made him just lose his mind.

You crawled a little farther, stopping to sit on his lap. Even though your wet pussy was covered by the silk fabric of your panties that contact was already driving you crazy. Crazy about him.

— Do you want, baby? — you asked, rubbing against his cock. — Do you want to fill me up?

— I need to fill you up — he gripped your thighs tightly.

— So tell me how much you want... — you leaned forward a little and bit his bottom lip lightly.

You didn't expect that for the first time in your life you would hear something that made you feel as desired as you did at that moment:

— Fuck me, princess.

You sighed when you heard him saying those words. Immediately you pushed your panties to the side and adjusted yourself on his lap, pushing his length inside you. Eddie moaned needlessly the moment he felt your wet insides tightening around him.

His cock was practically throbbing inside of you.

His warm, icy-ringed hands went to your waist on impulse and also because of the immense lust to squeeze your flesh while you ride him. The two of you were moaning in pure sync that were your voices with the music and the noise of your bodies bumping into each other. Eddie was watching the way your breasts bounced while you ride him.

You knew he was very close to having an orgasm. Not just because he'd said it before, but also because of the way he rolled his eyes and moaned for more.

— Holy shit! Princess, I didn't want to come that fast... s-slow down... — seeing Eddie in need and with no way out was something that made you even wetter.

It only made you go faster, changing the pace of the ride, making him practically squirm and begging for you to stop. Eddie gripped your waist tightly and kept his eyes closed and his lips half-open. You went on and on at that fast pace seeing the way he was practically writhing in pleasure beneath you.

— P-Princess, I'm coming... oh fuck!

He announced a little desperately and two seconds later you could feel his hot liquid inside you, filling you. This caused a moan of satisfaction to leave your lips while he was panting.

But you said nothing, you just kept riding him at that fast pace while he was underneath you, squeezing your waist and practically tearing up with pleasure at being so sensitive. He was whimpering and while he wanted you to stop, he also wanted you to continue.

Different sensations were always welcome, even if some were a little painful and left you not quite sure what to do.

You felt the knot in your stomach begin to burst, being close to just one strand. It felt so good to ride Eddie while his liquid was already filling your tight, wet insides.

— P-Princess... I'm... — he was trying to say something but his own moans prevented him from formulating a sentence.

— Yes, baby?

— I'm gonna come again...

— Yes baby, fill me up one more time while I come on your cock...

You leaned forward a little, resting your elbows beside his head on the carpet. That way make you more sensitive and your breasts were practically in his face, and he loved that. He gripped your ass tightly, assisting with the movements as you moaned and cursed uncontrollably, not unlike what he was doing either.

The sound of your ass hitting his hip was echoing through that dark room.

— I'm coming baby, I'm coming! — you announced, already feeling your legs go limp and your orgasm hit you.

The incredible sensation coursing through your groin to your feet was truly out of this world. As your pupils dilated and you gasped.

— Fuck yes... I'm coming again!

And that way Eddie filled you once more, now making his hot liquid run down your insides and down your thighs as well. The pace became sloppy until you two stopped and could analyze the situation.

You were both sweaty and panting, your thighs were smeared with his hot cum, and you were both satisfied, very satisfied. But what a beautiful mess to make.

— Wait a second — you leaned over to the little table in the living room and grabbed a small box of wet wipes so you could "clean up". At least get rid of the excess.

— Please, let me do this — he took the box from your hand gently and placed you where he was.

You were lying on the soft carpet with your head on the pillow as he cleaned your body and planted a few kisses on your belly. You smiled because he was so cute, how could someone be as helpful as he is? How did they have the nerve to treat Eddie badly?

After he finished cleaning you, he cleaned himself up too and grabbed another pillow from the couch to lie down next to you. The two of you were lying on your sides looking at each other as you gently caressed each other's hands.

— That was just as amazing as the other times — you said quickly seeing him smile like an idiot.

— Did you like it? — he asked, a little flushed.

— I loved it! — you smiled happily at him. — And you? Do you liked?

— I loved it too! I always love everything with you!

Eddie seemed very happy when he was with you, and he always was, as much as he was in Hellfire. Who knows, maybe one day he'll become your human boyfriend?

[...]

TAGLIST 𓆩♡𓆪

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#eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagine #eddie x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson.nsfw #eddie my beloved #eddie munson x vampire! reader!

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babbushka · 3 years

Note

My love! Have I got a Spooky prompt for you: “don’t you want to be fully consumed by what loves you?”/kiss of death with my big bear. ♥️

Can’t wait to read everything you come up with! Ily!

A/N: Mrs. Logan my QUEEN! I hope that you enjoy this little thing that I've come up with for this prompt, love you forever and always!! :)

1.6k, lots of blood talk in this one lol

He hears ‘em sometimes, late at night in the bar. Hears the laughter from the trees right off the interstate, the walls to keep folks on the path. Doin’ shifts on weeknights wasn’t too popular at Duck Tape, so Clyde often finds himself takin’ on a double just to pass the time, just to hear them. He likes listenin’ to them, likes listenin’ to ‘em sing. If he lets his mind wander, sometimes, he imagines that they’re singin’ just for him.

The bell jingles at the door, makin’ Clyde frown. He’s wipin’ glasses dry to the tune of Bob Seger, even though he’s already done that twice tonight. It’s three o’clock on the dot, Clyde knows this because the clock stops workin’. The bar technically ain’t open, not really, Duck Tape closes at two on the weeknights.

It’s a Thursday, so they hadn’t been so busy anyway, but still, Clyde was sure that he had locked the door.

He ain’t complainin’ though, when a lone woman passes through the threshold, lookin’ chilled from the cold. Autumntime in West Virginia wasn’t too frigid, but the temperatures could drop real quick way out there at night. Bein’ a good host, Clyde greets the woman with a nod, and somethin’ that he hopes is a smile.

“You alrigh’?” He asks, takin’ stock of your appearance.

You’re wearin’ a pair of faded blue jeans and a t-shirt, an outfit closer to fittin’ summertime weather than the crisp forty degrees that the little thermometer was readin’. Clyde notices that you’re barefoot, notices that you track mud in with every step, even though it ain’t rainin’.

“Better now that I see you’re open.” You say with an easy smile, your face lightin’ up with charm and warmth. There’s somethin’ off about your face, but he can’t quite place it, can’t quite place why your skin looks a little too dull in the dim lighting of the bar.

“I’m not.” He replies, makin’ your smile drop into a frown, makin’ your eyes harden. Somethin’ about the whiplash expression has Clyde wantin’ to take a step back, somethin’ deep and primal in his bones tellin’ him to put some distance between him and you.

“Oh.” Your voice sounds so plaintive then, and you nod in understandin’, turning around to head back towards the door, your muddy footprints goin’ back.

“But you can stay, if you need to.” He blurts, feelin’ like less than the gentleman than his Mama raised him to be. He would never turn away someone in need, ‘specially not a young woman like yourself, ‘specially not at night. He clears his throat and averts his eyes, “I was just finishin’ up.”

“Thank you.” Perking right back up, you look at him with relief, and that dangerous pit in Clyde’s stomach softens a little.

He realizes then, that the bar is quiet, the jukebox turned off. There ain’t no more singin’ out there beyond the trees anymore, and it’s eerie. The wind howls and caresses the windows, and you’re takin’ a seat at the counter, your back rigid and straight, your eyes unblinkin’ as they stare into his.

“Can I uh,” He busies himself with something so that he doesn’t blush under your scrutiny, “Do you want a drink?”

You’re so beautiful. It was shocking almost, how stunning he found you. He had thought he knew every damn person in this town, and he sure as hell would’ve remembered a face like yours, a body like yours. He wants to stare right back at you, but he can’t, that wouldn’t be polite. The least he can do is offer you a drink, but you shake your head, and he feels like he could panic, wanting to keep you there with him, your face intoxicatingly pretty.

“No thank you, I don’t have any cash on me.” You explain, turnin’ out the pockets of your jeans. There’s nothin’ in them -- no phone, no wallet, no keys. Who were you, and why were you wanderin’ around barefoot all alone with nothing?

“It’s on the house, what’d’ya like?” Clyde already is reachin’ for a shaker, for some ice, when you give him a cryptic sort of smile and request,

“Somethin’ that’ll warm me up.”

Clyde just so happens to have some fresh made apple cider from Mellie, she had dropped it off earlier that day for the weekend crowd. Fixin’ you up a hot cup of that and a dash of bourbon for the hell of it, he slides you over the glass and you happily accept it. You lift the cup to your lips, but take the tiniest sip imaginable. Clyde ain’t so sure you even got any in your mouth.

“You’re Clyde Logan Logan, ain’t ya?” You ask then, with a sort of confident interest that has Clyde blushin’ again.

“Yes ma’am.” He can barely speak, thrilled that you know his name. You know him, maybe you came here for him and not just for shelter from the cold.

“I’ve heard lots about you, all my friends have told me such good things.” Grinning at him, Clyde gets that distinctly uneasy feelin’ once again, like maybe your teeth are too sharp, your smile too wide. It don’t look natural, but then as quickly as it arrived, the feeling flees.

“That’s mighty kind o’ya to say.” Fumblin’ ever so slightly, Clyde drops the glass he had been dryin’ and winces as the shards cut his hand when he goes to pick up the pieces off of the floor, his palm pulsin’ where blood begins to pool, “Ah shit -- ”

“Wait.” Suddenly on the other side of the bar top -- how the hell did you get there? -- you cradle his bleeding hand in two of your own, your eyes wet and wide as you whisper, “You need to lick the wound closed.”

Your eyes stare into Clyde’s, waiting with bated breath, until he swallows a lump around his throat and he nods. Almost at once, your tongue laves across the sweat-salty palm of his hand, lapping up the blood. It wasn’t a deep cut, he’s not bleeding profusely, but it’s enough to make your lips seal around his fingers and suck them clean, sighing happily.

“What are you doin’?” Clyde whispers, standin’ stock still, as you kiss the pads of his fingertips, kiss the knuckles, kiss his little horseshoe ring.

“I think you know.” When you look up at him again, he gasps the smallest bit.

Your skin brightens, a vibrancy of your skin tone revitalized, your lips plumper, your hair shinier, but most of all your eyes -- your eyes had now taken on a crimson color, the same color that matches the bloodstains on your teeth as your tongue licks it away, not wanting to waste a single drop.

Immediately, Clyde tilts his head up for you, elongates his neck, the sound of his pulse hammering in his veins a symphony of permission, of pleas. He shuts his eyes, braces himself for the way you immediately latch onto the hard muscle of his throat, your incisor teeth elongating sharp, razor sharp, piercing through the flesh.

Pain blooms at the twin points of pleasure, and Clyde’s instincts have him fighting, have his body writhing, and oh he is so much taller than you, bigger than you -- but not stronger.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright honey.” You pull away for a moment, his blood staining your t-shirt where it has soaked through the fabric, your chin slick with the sticky syrupy elixir of life. Petting his hair back, you press bloody kisses to his cheek, to his lips as his throat continues to bleed, precious crimson that you quickly move to lap up, your tongue silky and velvety against his flesh as you murmur, “Don’t that feel nice? Don’t you want to be fully consumed by what loves you?”

“Yes -- fuck, don’t stop.” Clyde’s gasping, pushing himself closer to you.

“If I don’t stop, I’ll kill you.” You shake your head, wanting him to know exactly what he’s asking for, “You’ll be like me, forever and ever.”

“Can we be together? Can I stay with you?” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he knows it sounds correct, knows that it’s what he’s wanted for so long.

The singing is back now, but it’s inside his brain, it’s so loud, booming, thrumming through his body as you suck the blood out of his body, draining him of it, until not a single drop is left. And then, when all is gone and you are full of this handsome man’s delicious blood.

“Of course, that’s why I came, Clyde.” Your voice speaks with the etherealness of a being a thousand years old, and your eyes glow ruby with the blood filling you up, your fangs dripping a silver venom like liquid mercury.

You plunge your fangs back into Clyde’s throat, but this time instead of taking, you give. You give him the gift of eternal life, you give him the possibility of otherworldly abilities, of untold strength, of immeasurable power. But most of all, you give him the promise of your companionship for all time, and this more than anything is what he has sought after for so long.

Which is why, though he has no tears left in his body, Clyde feels emotion welling up in his eyes, as he feels the love that you pour into his body, the love that he has hoped for his entire life, the singing growing louder and louder in his mind, when he realizes it’s been you all alone. But still, still through all of that he can hear you whisper,

“I came to take you home.”

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Taggin' some Clyde lovin' friends!

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @mrs-gucci @bucky-j-barnes @some-distant-century @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @schopenhauerdeathsquad @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @ohsolonelyghosts @depressedkyloren @pop-rocks-and-skittles

#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan/reader #clyde logan x you #adam driver fanfic #adcu #logan lucky #clyde logan imagine

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chaoticpuff17 · 3 years

Text

Baby Mine

ADG Yoongi

Masterlist

Hello my darlings! Just a reminder that all the mc’s in the ADG universe are named except for joon’s! This is to avoid confusion for all of us as the universe expands and the mcs run into each other! Love you all! Thanks for reading! —— chaotic puff

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror tilting her head from side to side as she tried to figure out if it was just her imagination or if there really was a small bump forming on her lower stomach. It had to be her imagination, or just some bloating. Birth control was a major part of her work. Jimin ensured that all of the girls were on some sort of contraception. Babies weren’t allowed. Pregnancies and babies meant that girls went out of commission. No one wanted to fuck a pregnant whore.

Sen shook her head as though trying to shake the idea out entirely. It was near impossible for her to be pregnant. It was better not to think about it at all, but she’d get a pregnancy test later just to be safe. Jimin would kill her if she was pregnant. She was one of his best girls after all. She brought in a lot of money for him.

“Lola.” A rough voice called from behind her as an arm snaked around her waist.

Lola. It was a fake name to protect her. It was something Jimin had instigated when he’d taken over keeping charge of the girls. For as much of a dick as he could be, he did want the girls safe, and she was grateful for that. Jimin had picked the name himself. Lola from lotus because her name meant lotus. She still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten Lola from lotus, but she appreciated the thought, and it was better than have the men know her real name. She was able to keep that just for her, and for that she was grateful. So few things were hers here. It was nice to be able to keep her name to herself.

She pasted on a sensual smile and turned to face the man before her winding her arms around her neck. “Leaving already?” She asked looking up at him and tilting her head to the side. “Or are you staying for another round?” She purred moving closer so that their chests were brushing against each other as she placed a soft kiss on the edge of his mouth.

“I have a mission.” He announced sleepily resting his head in the crook of her neck. “RM just called.”

She hummed gently. He liked verbal confirmation from her. She’d learned a lot about his likes and dislikes through the years.

For someone so feared, Suga could at times be a softy, especially after he’d just woken up. She’d learned through the years that he valued his sleep more than anything. Usually if Suga was visiting her, she wouldn’t expect another client for the rest of the night. He’d crash in her bed, and leave in the morning, or whenever he woke up. If the mission had been particularly hard, he’d crash for up to a full day in her bed before going on his way.

The higher ups took first priority. Even if she’d had another client, the big seven took priority. She’d been lucky enough only to have had to service three of the big seven. Jimin tested all of the girls, but it was Hoseok and Yoongi that visited her regularly, sometimes together, sometimes not. But it was well known among the ranks that she was Suga’s favorite of the girls. She couldn’t count the number of times that Yoongi had come to her in the years she’d been working for BTS.

There were many nights when Suga would appear at her door, and more than once he’d kicked another client out of her bed, but he was allowed. He was one of the big bosses, and no one was going to argue with him. The only one that could have stopped him was RM himself, and so far Sen had been lucky enough never to have met the kingpin. But Suga hadn’t kicked anyone out of her bed in a long time. When it was well known that she was Suga’s bitch, other men no longer came to call. The only one besides him that came to visit her anymore was Hoseok. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Suga’s wrath, and there were plenty of other girls for them to choose from. Hoseok was an exception. They didn’t mind sharing with each other, and it always made for an interesting night when they were there together. She was left sore for days.

“You’d better get going then.” She whispered running her fingers through his hair in the way she knew he liked. “I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

He lifted his head, dark eyes scanning her features before he sighed tiredly. “Money’s on the table.” He grumbled leaning his forehead against hers, still sleepy. “I’ll be back after this mission.”

“You always are.”

“Patch me up?”

“You really should go to Dr. Kim for that.” She scolded. “I’m not a medical professional.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t do what you do.” He informed her with a smirk while she rolled her eyes at the suggestive tone of his voice.

He placed a quick, rough peck to her lips, and then he was gone.

Even if he was one of her only clients these days, he at least paid well. All the higher ups paid well, and she had a debt to repay. Well, the debt was repaid now, but she was trying to save up the money to leave this place. It was the debt that landed her in this position in the first place. She could blame her crackhead mother for that. The hag had skipped out of town and left her to pay off the debt. It had taken her years, but she’d finally done it. The next time her mother got herself in trouble, Sen was going to let her deal with it herself. It wasn’t her problem anymore.

She glanced over at the clock. It was way too early in the morning for her to consider running out to grab a pregnancy test, but she was going to do it anyway. Three in the morning was too early for most things, but her job had her keeping weird hours, and both Hoseok and Yoongi were well within their rights to wake her up at any time of the day or night. It was unlikely that either of them would come by for the rest of the night, and she wanted to put that nagging feeling at the back of her mind to rest as soon as possible.

To say that the two lines staring back at her were a shock would have been an understatement. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Those two little pink lines mocked her. The words in the Google search mocked her. Birth control was only 99% effective. Jimin was going to kill her. Suga was going to kill her. He was the only one that could possibly be the father. Jimin and Hoseok hadn't visited her recently, only Suga. But did she really have to tell either of them?

She had enough money to leave. Her debt was repaid. She could hand in her resignation to Jimin and go. She never had to tell either of them anything. She wasn’t showing enough for either of them to see, and if she moved quickly, she could be gone before anyone found out. Besides, she doubted that Suga wanted a child let alone a child from a whore.

Yes, that would be the best option.

She placed a hand over her belly, her mind whirring with possibilities. A baby. She was going to have a baby. Life was full of odd surprises, but this was not one she thought she would ever have to deal with. She’d never even considered being a mother let alone the mother of Min Yoongi’s baby.

“Okay, little dude.” She whispered to her belly. “We’re going to be okay.”

And it would be, as soon as she informed Jimin of her departure, she was gone. But first she actually had to talk to Jimin.

“Sir.” She greeted bowing respectfully as she entered his office.

“Sen.” He greeted leaning back in his chair. “Is everything alright? You don’t usually come to visit me.” He sent her a charming smile. He was always charming, but she didn’t have time to flirt with him today.

“I wanted to inform you of my resignation in person.” It was best just to put it out there.

His small dropped, a frown taking its place as he leaned forward. “Resignation. You’re leaving us, Sen?”

“I paid off my debt. I think it’s time for me to go.”

“Are you sure about this?”

She smiled even if the expression was strained. She couldn’t let him know that anything was off. “I’m sure. I want more for myself than this, Jimin. I’m sure you can understand that.”

“You have a good life here.” He pointed out. “Suga keeps you comfortable and protected. No one’s going to mess with his girl.”

“I’m not his girl, and you and I both know that this was never what I wanted from my life. I paid my debt. It’s time for me to go.” She held firm her lips pressed into a line as her smile fell.

“Suga will be disappointed to see you go.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive.”

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Jimin might have appeared calm, but his mind was already busy thinking over the fall out of her decision. He didn’t even want to think of Yoongi’s reaction. “You’re my best girl.”

“I have one client.” She scoffed. “Two if Hoseok drops by, but he rarely does these days. I can’t be your best girl.” She pointed out leaning forward in her seat to match Jimin’s stance.

“Yeah, but you keep Suga hyung happy, and that’s worth a lot.”

“He’ll find another girl.”

“I’m not sure there is another girl like you, Sen. He likes you.”

She scoffed again moving a strand of hair away from her face as she leaned back again. “He’ll get over it.”

Jimin scoffed, but there was really nothing he could do to make her stay. She had kept her end of the deal and paid off her debt. Unless he planned on kidnapping her, she was free to go, and BTS wasn’t in the habit of forcing women to work for them.

“I’m sorry to see you go.”

“It’s for the best.”

Jimin had been disappointed to see her go. It meant that Hoseok and Yoongi would need to find a new plaything, but Jimin was not looking forward to telling his hyungs that Sen had gone, especially not Yoongi. He visited her almost exclusively. She was his girl, even if neither of them would admit it.

He’d hoped that she would stick around a little while before she left that way she could be the one to tell Yoongi, but he was shocked at the speed with which she’d packed up her life and gone. It was as though she’d never been one of his girls at all, and it left him with the responsibility of telling Yoongi. Unfortunately for him, that moment came far quicker than he would have liked.

“Where’s Lola?” Yoongi asked barging into his office and plopping himself down on his sofa a scowl on his face.

“Lola?” Jimin asked keeping his tone light and breezy.

“She’s not at her apartment. She’s always at her apartment.”

“Ah.” Jimin gulped trying to find the right words. “Well, Sen left. That’s her real name you know. Lola’s just for work.” That hadn’t been what he was going for, but honesty is the best policy, or so they say.

“Left?” Yoongi arched a brow leaning forward suddenly interested.

“She paid off her debt.”

“She did that a while ago.” Yoongi scoffed brushing him off. “She didn’t leave then. Why now?”

Jimin shrugged. “She said she wanted to go. Something about it being time. Sorry, hyung. Jas is in though. You visit her sometimes.” He was hoping that his hyung would smoothly take on a new girl, but he doubted that the transition would be smooth.

Yoongi grumbled under his breath. He didn’t want Jas. He wanted Lola. He always went to Lola after a mission. She tended wounds he didn’t bother going to Jin for. She listened running her fingers through his hair as he told her about anything and everything. She knew more about him than just about anything else. No he never shared details of the business, but she knew him.

Jas expected sex. She expected the infamous assassin of BTS, and while she was good for a fuck, she certainly wasn’t going to be dressing wounds or letting him spend all night and half of the next day in her bed.

He couldn’t help a tinge of resentment as he thought of Lola, Sen. He provided for her. He made sure no other dirt bag touched her, but she left anyway. He and Hoseok treated her well, and she just left. She hadn’t even deigned to tell them her real name, but she wasn’t going to find a better life than the one she’d had under their protection. If she was stupid enough to leave, that was her problem, but he wasn’t about to let her go. She knew too much.

“Should I tell Jas you’re coming by?” Jimin offered already reaching for his phone even though he knew Yoongi would probably refuse.

“Don’t bother.” He grumbled pushing himself up from the sofa.

“Hyung!” Jimin called after him “Hyung!” He knew what was on Yoongi’s mind. He wasn’t a man to share, and Sen’s leaving wouldn’t be taken well. “She’s not in the city anymore.” He announced causing Yoongi to stop in his tracks. “The last time anyone saw her she was entering the airport. We didn’t keep track of where she was going. She’s free to go where she pleases. She’s not one of mine anymore.”

“The airport?” Yoongi asked turning with a scowl. “Where would she go? She doesn’t have any family.”

“Just her crackhead mom, but I doubt she went looking for her.” Jimin agreed leaning back in his chair. He didn’t like the look In Yoongi’s eyes, but he wasn’t about to stop him if he decided to go after her. If he wanted her, he could have her. He’d just have to find her first.

“You gonna go looking for her?” He called as Yoongi turned to leave again taking note of the tight set of the other man’s shoulders.

“Why would I go looking for a whore?” He spat venom dripping from his tone his eyes flashing.

Jimin watched him go, doubting that this would be the end of it. Yoongi was angry, but Jimin knew his hyung enough to know that that hurt was coming from a place of betrayal. Yoongi, as much as he didn’t like to admit it, cared about Sen. No, this wouldn’t be the end of it.

Sen was happy. She’d found herself a nice little apartment in Busan. She liked living so near to the sea, and she was sure that the little one would love it as well. She’d assembled a nursery for the little dude who she had recently found out was quite literally a little dude. As her bump grew, she collected strollers, blankets, stuffed animals for the little dude, and she was happy, happier than she’d been in years. She was excited to be a mother, excited to start over. She’d built a nice cozy life for them here, and she knew it was going to be a good one.

Her break from BTS had been clean. No one knew about the little secret she was carrying, and they had no reason to keep her, not when she’d paid them back everything that was owed. She still found herself looking over her shoulder though. She was always worried that Jimin or Hoseok or heaven forbid Yoongi was going to appear out of nowhere and see her heavy with Yoongi’s child. She doubted that she would have made a clean break if any of them had known. But this wasn’t their child. Her son didn’t belong to BTS. He was hers, her little dude. They didn’t get to have a say.

Her kitchen fridge proudly held the ultrasound from her twenty week scan. Baby books were littered across her coffee table, along with a book of baby names. Her life had been about survival for so long, but now the little dude kept her busy. He was her life now.

She had enough saved to keep them comfortable for a little bit, but she was lucky enough to find a job in Busan. She was working at a local restaurant. It was owned by a lovely couple whose only son was in college. They took every opportunity to brag about him. It was good work, honest work, and they didn’t seem to mind that she was an unwed mother. They’d also given her a very generous maternity leave.

It was a good life. It wasn’t much, but it was good. And she only grew more excited as her due date drew closer. The excitement was partially driven by the excitement to meet the little dude, and the growing desire to get him out. She loved him, but he was a pain. Her ankles were swollen. Her back hurt, and she was getting really tired of the way this kid liked to sit directly on her bladder. But it would all be worth it as soon as the little dude arrived, and he was due any day now.

She had everything ready to go. There was a bag packed, and she had a plan in place to get to the hospital. One of the downsides of being a single mom was that there was no one there to help when the pregnancy got rough or to go with her to the hospital when the time came.

She’d debated finding a midwife and doing a home birth, just for the added security of not being in the hospital on the off chance that Yoongi or someone else from her old life had found out about the little dude, but she’d ultimately decided that the safety that the hospital provided for the birth was the better choice. She wanted all the nurses and doctors she could get since she had no family to support her through a home birth, and the hospital had the good drugs to help with the pain. She was a baby when it came to pain, and she was dreading the contractions.

She had to keep reminding herself that it would all worth it for the little dude. And it was. When the nurse handed her her son for the first time, she had never been more in love in her entire life.

He was small, so very small, and all read and wrinkly. His face was scrunched up like an old man’s, and there was something about him that was just so similar to Yoongi when she looked at him. It could have been the old man attitude, or it could have been the tuft of dark hair accompanied by those impossibly dark eyes. It didn’t matter though. Whether he looked like his father or not, she was completely in love with him.

Every sound that he made, every movement, had her enthralled. How could this tiny perfect being have come from her? How could she have made something so perfect? She knew that she would do anything for him, anything at all. Every terrible thing that had ever happened, her mother, the debt, working as a prostitute for BTS, it was all worth it, because it had brought her him.

It was with a heavy heart that she let the nurses take him away to the nursery, but she knew that she was going to need all the rest she could get before she took him home, and it was just the two of them. She would have plenty of long nights ahead of her, she could let the nurses take care of him for one night while she recovered from the birth.

When she woke up some hours later, it was to a dark room and the sound of those soft noises content newborns made. It took her a few minutes to wake up enough to realize that her baby wasn’t supposed to be with her. He was meant to be at the nursery.

She bolted up, ignoring the pain the sudden action caused as she frantically looked around the room looking for the source of the noise. Her frantic heartbeat stilled for a moment as she caught sight of her baby perfectly safe, but her blood turned to ice as she saw who held him.

“Suga.” She whimpered bracing herself against the rail of the hospital bed as she prepared to jump out of bed and seize her child from him arms.

“Sen.” Her heart stopped. How did he know that? Where had he learned that name? “You didn’t tell me you were expecting.”

“Suga.” She said his name like plea, begging him to give her back the baby.

“Shhhhh.” He hushed her walking over with her baby settling himself on the bed beside her before she could spring up. “You should be resting. You just gave birth, baby.”

“Give me the baby.” She pleaded reaching out to take her son, but Yoongi held him away fixing her with a dark, disapproving stare.

“You should have told me.” He scolded.

“Please, give me the baby.”

He shushed her again. “He’s fine. Look. He’s sleeping.” He angled his arms down so she could see the angelic face of her little one scrunched up in sleep. “You don’t want to wake him up.”

“Please.” She reached out for the little one again terrified of what Yoongi could do to him.

She knew she was in trouble. No one stole from Bangtan, and if Yoongi was here, he had clearly known about the pregnancy. Was he going to take the baby from her? Was he going to kill her for hiding it?

“He’s fine.” He scolded again maneuvering himself so that the baby was cradled in one arm while the other snaked around her shaking shoulders pulling her close in a position they had been in many times before, minus baby.

“Yoonho, huh?” He asked gazing down at the sleeping child. “Feeling nostalgic, Sen?”

“Please.”

He sighed shifting to ease the baby into her waiting arms much to her relief. Yoonho whimpered a little in his sleep unhappy with the transfer, but settled back quickly.

She looked over him checking for any signs of distress, but he seemed fine. He was sleeping like a champ, but that was what newborns did. They slept, and they ate. Yoonho didn’t even seem to know that anything was wrong, but Sen did.

“Why are you here?” She whispered gently tracing her son’s features as she refused to meet Yoongi’s eyes.

“I’m here for my kid.” He scoffed leaning over a bit and moving the blanket back so that he could have a better view of Yoonho’s face. “You didn’t think you could keep something like this hidden, did you?”

“I was hoping.” She whispered stiff in Yoongi’s arms. “What happens now?”

“I take Yoonho back to Seoul.”

Her eyes flew to his, wide with panic as she clutched her little dude closer to her chest. “No!”

Yoongi shot her a dark look, and she shut up immediately not wanting to push her luck when she was already in so much trouble. “I’m taking my kid back to Seoul with me.”

“Please no.” She whimpered staring up at him pleadingly. “You can’t take him.”

“I can, and I will.” He answered sharply silencing her again. “He’s my kid.”

She squared her shoulders and glared at him. “You don’t know that. He could be anyone’s.”

Yoongi chuckled darkly eyes sharp and dangerous as he stared her down. “You saying you were sleeping with other men?”

“I was a whore.” She pointed out.

He gripped her chin tightly bringing her face close to his as he hissed at her. “I know every man that touched you. No one has touched you other than me in some time. That kid could only be mine.”

“Just because you kept away other clients, doesn’t mean I wasn’t sleeping with other men. I had a life outside of you and yours.” She shot back. It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. She would say just about anything to get him to go and leaver her and Yoonho alone.

He released her chin leaning back against the bed with a gummy grin, but there was no mirth behind it. “No, baby. You couldn’t. Jimin doesn’t let his girls sleep around without getting paid. If anyone other than Hobi or I had touched that sweet little pussy, you would have been in big trouble.”

“You don’t know that.” She should really stop talking, stop antagonizing him, but she couldn’t. She needed to get him to believe the baby wasn’t his. She needed him to go, even if it was a long shot that he would.

“Baby, I know everything about you. You really think you could sneak around without one of us knowing?” She didn’t say anything, only trembled clinging onto Yoonho like an anchor. “You were sleeping with two of the big bosses. No one would touch you with a ten foot pole, and our guys certainly wouldn’t let you go sneaking around if they saw you. You want to try this again, baby girl?” He quirked a dark brow at her. “Who’s the father?”

“You.” She admitted the truth leaving a bitter taste in her mouth as she glared at him.

“Good girl.” He praised as he ran a long finger over Yoonho’s little nose staring down at the baby his eyes sparkling with something she had never seen before. He looked almost enamored. “That wasn’t so hard was it?”

“You can’t take him.”

“I can.” He shrugged pulling back with a gummy grin directed at the little one who was just opening his eyes to stare up at his parents. “You have two options, baby. I can shoot you, and take Yoonho. Or you can come back to Seoul with me, and be a good little wife and mother.”

“Wife?” She asked the offer coming as a complete shock. She had never pegged Yoongi as the family type of guy. “As in marriage?”

“You got another definition?”

“You want to marry me?” The words came out slowly as she tried to wrap her mind around the concept.

“Yoonho needs a mom.” He shrugged. “I’d prefer you do it. You’re his mom, but I have no problem getting rid of you and finding someone else if you’re going to be difficult.”

She shuddered at the though. Yoongi had never shared the details of his missions, but she knew the gist of what he did for Bangtan. He would have no trouble disposing of her if she didn’t cooperate.

It was a simple choice really. Go back with him and stay with her son, or wind up in a ditch somewhere.

“Okay.”

He smiled, kissing her forehead lightly. “I’m glad you made the right choice.”

As soon as Sen and Yoonho were released from the hospital, Yoongi took them both back to Seoul. He didn’t even allow them to go back to her apartment to collect any of her things or any of the things she had put together for Yoonho. All they had was the bag she had packed for the hospital.

He didn’t return her to the apartment she’d operated out of when she’d worked for Bangtan. Instead he took them to what she had to assume was his home. She’d never been to Yoongi’s home before. Why would she? She’d just been one of the many girls at his disposal. She wasn’t special.

The apartment was spacious, but it was cold. There were no personal touches. Hardly anything suggested that it had been lived in. She could understand now why Yoongi spent so many nights in her bed instead of here. She wouldn’t have wanted to come back to a cold, lifeless apartment either.

“Yoongi.” She started softly, holding Yoonho to her chest as she finished exploring their new home. “There’s no crib.”

“What?” He asked not even opening his eyes to look at her as he remained sprawled across the sofa in the living room.

“There’s no crib, or changing table. There’s nothing for a baby here.” She pointed out bouncing the baby as he began to fuss. “There’s nothing for me either.”

He sighed heavily sinking further into the sofa as he did. “I’ll send out one of the boys for stuff later.”

“Yoongi.” She started again, her tone more sharp this time.

“What?” He shot back, tone equally as unhappy.

“There is nothing here. There are no diapers. There are no baby clothes. No wipes. No burp clothes, blankets, bottles. I don’t need someone to go out later. I need someone to go out now.”

He groaned opening his eyes to glare at her, but she was having none of it. He might hold her life in his hands, but he professed to want their baby, and she’d be damned if she stayed here when he was so ill prepared for said baby. “I can go out and grab some things myself if you don’t want to send someone, but we need at least diapers, wipes, and extra clothes. A crib would be nice too, unless you want your son sleeping in a car seat.”

He sat up still glaring at her. He was tired. She was tired, but at least she was looking out for their child’s welfare. “And how do I know if I let you out of her that you won’t take off with the kid?” She rolled her eyes shifting to move Yoonho to rest against her other shoulder as he fussed again. “Because if I tried anything you’d track me down, take Yoonho, and shoot me in the head. I’m not stupid.”

“Pretty stupid of you to run off in the first place.” He grumbled. “Almost as stupid as the boss’ wife.”

She scoffed at that. Everyone in Bangtan knew the story of what happened with RM’s wife. She’d disappeared at the New Year’s gala in spectacular fashion. The organization had been in chaos trying to find her ever since. But could she really blame the poor woman? If she thought she could safely get herself and Yoonho out of here, she would take off in a heartbeat. There was nothing stupid about it.

“You can go grab supplies then. I’ll make you a list.”

And then Yoonho started crying, stuttering little cries that were heartbreaking to hear but elicited a sigh from both parents.

“What is it now?” Yoongi asked getting up to check on them both. His words were gruff, but he was genuinely concerned for his son’s welfare.

“He’s probably just hungry.”

She shrugged moving to sit down on the sofa as she maneuvered herself and Yoonho into a more comfortable position for feeding. She wished she had a blanket to keep herself covered, but it was nothing that Yoongi hadn’t seen before, and yet he stared at her wide eyed as she got Yoonho to latch as though it was the most alien thing on earth. He still wasn’t used to the sight of her breast feeding. He wasn’t used to seeing her so domestic.

There was no soft lingerie or sheer robes. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun that threatened to fail at any moment, and she was dressed in a pair of soft leggings and a shirt that was comfortable on her still healing body and was easy to get out of the way when Yoonho got hungry. He also knew for a fact she was wearing the mesh panties that the hospital gave her. There was nothing sexy about it, but at the same time it felt right. It was domestic. It was motherly.

After he unfroze from the sight, he moved to sit next to them both. “I’ll send someone out now.” He agreed taking off his hoodie and throwing it over her shoulders so she wouldn’t be cold.

Yoonho was bundled up in the only blanket they had available, but he couldn’t help but notice that her own clothing looked a little worn as though it was second hand. He’d have someone pickup clothes for her while they were out shopping for Yoonho. She was going to be a Min very shortly. She couldn’t go around in second hand clothing. He might not have loved her, not like Namjoon loved Y/N, but he had known Sen for a long time. He liked her well enough. More than that she had given him a son. A perfect little heir.

If he had to choose a woman to mother his child, he was almost glad it had been her. It saved him the trouble of picking some girl from their allies, and Sen already knew him. She also knew how Bangtan worked. That was half the trouble that Namjoon and Jin both had with their women.

Y/N was a smart woman, and she knew how gangs worked, but she didn’t know her place in Bangtan. She gave Namjoon no end of trouble. She never settled. Jin’s girl was a weak little thing. She didn’t understand gang life at all. He kept her locked up tight so that she couldn’t go running for the hills. She’d bend soon enough though, and life could be worse than with Jin.

Sen was different. She was already accustomed to Bangtan. She knew what he was capable of. She knew the consequences if she stepped out of line. She might not like her situation, but she wasn’t going to openly defy him, not when her life and the life of her child were on the line. That gave him some peace of mind at least. He would though have to fend off Jimin and Hobi. If she was going to be his wife, he couldn’t have any of the other boys sniffing around her. Hopefully Hobi would find a girl of his own soon enough, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it.

“We need to talk about the wedding.”

She looked up from Yoonho to meet his eyes in confusion. “The wedding?”

“Nothing big. You’ve already had a baby. A courthouse wedding.”

She sighed before grimacing at the feel of Yoonho feeding. “I’m fine with whatever. Let’s just get it over with.”

He frowned at that. Marriage was a big deal, especially in his circles. When you chose a woman, you chose her for life. It wasn’t something you “just got over with”. It was the reason that Namjoon wasn’t going to let Y/N go. It was why Jin kept Hayan locked away. He was choosing her, and she just wanted to “get it over with”.

“Sen.” He growled causing her to look up again in confusion. “We are going to be married. You’re my woman, and you’re going to act like it.”

Her eyes were wide as she took in his words, but she was in no position to argue with him. She was going to do it anyway though. “Is this really a marriage?” She asked. “We’re only in this position because of Yoonho. I don’t expect you to be faithful or act like a husband.” She shrugged as she moved Yoonho over to the other side. “Do you really expect me to act like a wife?”

Yoongi darted forward capturing her mouth in a rough kiss though he was careful not to disrupt his son one of his hands coming to overlap hers to keep him steady. “You are mine.” He growled dark, feline eyes boring into hers. “You were mine then, and you’re mine now. I was going to drag you back when Jimin said you left, but you’re a sneaky little vixen. You managed to get yourself to another city, and Jimin let you go. I should have dragged you back, Jimin’s rules be damned.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” He murmured pulling away and running a hand through his hair. “You’re here now, and neither you or Yoonho are leaving.”

“What are you talking about?”

He laughed the sound hollow and humorless. “Why do you think no one else has touched you for over a year besides Hosoek? They knew you were mine.”

“I thought I was Jimin’s.” She snarked back eyes narrowed. “Just another one of his whores.”

“You’re my whore. No one else is going to touch you.”

“Where you really going to shoot me if I refused to give you Yooonho and come back?” She asked suspicion creeping in the back of her mind.

“I would have dragged you back by your hair.” He promised. “The kid needs his mother.” He leaned in so that his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “And I wasn’t about to let that sweet little pussy of yours go a second time.” She grimaced a combination of his words and the uncomfortable feeling of breastfeeding. No one had warned her that breastfeeding hurt. That should have been one of the first things that other mothers told you when you first got pregnant. They should warn you about what you’re in for.

“And who says I’m going to have sex with you?” She challenged eyes flashing.

He smirked against her ear. “We both know you’re not going to deny me.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” She shot back.

He shrugged pulling away a dark grin spreading across his features. “Doesn’t matter. We have a lifetime to figure it out.” He leaned closer again placing another short kiss to her lips. “You and Yoonho aren’t going anywhere.”

“I suppose we aren’t.” She agreed, her lips set in a grim line.

The wedding didn’t take place for a few weeks. Yoongi and Sen needed some time to settle in as parents, and Sen had not only a newborn to contend with, but she had to whip the apartment into shape. But after a few weeks it looked lived in. Baby toys and paraphernalia littered the living room. One of the spare bedrooms had been converted into a nursery though there was a bassinet in the master bedroom where Yoonho spent most of his nights. Yoongi insisted that she share the master bedroom with him, and it was easier on both parents to keep the little dude in there when he was getting up every few hours for feeding, but they were settling into a schedule much to both Sen and Yoongi’s relief.

The wedding was a small affair. She and Yoongi went to the courthouse. He wore a casual suit, and she wore a knee length white dress, and just like that, she was married. She couldn’t get used to the ring that flashed on her finger. It was simple. Three cushion cut diamonds set on a gold band, but it was pretty.

Namjoon had made sure that all of the boys stayed away from Yoongi and Sen as they settled, but after the wedding, all six men were gathered in the apartment to greet their friend and the new Mrs. Min, as well as to meet the little one that had caused so much fuss.

Jimin was pleased to see her back where she belonged while Hoseok pouted that Yoongi wasn’t going to share anymore. Taehyung wouldn’t share the baby, and Sen was honestly happy for a break even if it was only a small one. Someone else could hold him for a while. Jungkook hovered close to Taehyung waiting for his turn to hold the little one that they all agreed bore a striking resemblance to Yoongi. Jin fussed over the new family’s health asking her questions about her and Yoonho’s health and telling her that she should come visit his own wife once she was recovered. Apparently she was ill and couldn’t attend the celebrations.

It was Namjoon that made her uneasy though. He hovered over the proceedings like a dark cloud. He’d congratulated Yoongi and said hello to the baby, but for the most part he stayed on to the side. She had to wonder if it was because of his own wife’s absence or if he just didn’t like her. As much as she was proud of the other woman for slipping away, she genuinely hoped it was the latter. Namjoon could make her life hell if he didn’t approve of her, and her life was going to be hard enough as Yoongi’s wife.

Yoongi had no real love for her. He liked her. There was even a small amount of respect there, but he didn’t love her. It was possessive. He liked the idea of having his family all together. He liked the idea of having her as his wife and the mother of his child. He’d always been a possessive lover though. She expected nothing less from him as a husband. He put her in her place when she stepped out of line, but for the most part, so long as she behaved and looked after Yoonho, he treated her well. It might not have been the life she wanted, but it could have been worse. It could always be worse.

“Sen.” A deep voice greeted from beside her.

She jumped a little in surprise but turned to find Namjoon seated beside her. “RM-ssi.” She greeted respectfully. She didn’t want any trouble with the leader.

“You have a beautiful son.”

“Thank you.” She eyed him warily wondering why he was really there. He had no reason to talk to her.

“It’s quite the story. How you and Yoongi met, I mean.” She waited to see where he was going to take this, but she had a bad feeling. “Bold of you to run off when you were carrying his child.” She stiffened not liking the sound of that. He leaned closer eyes glinting dangerously. “If you ever try anything like that again, I don’t care if Yoongi cares for you, I’ll put a bullet between your eyes myself. Am I clear?”

She gulped eyes wide and terrified. “Yes, sir.”

“Good!” His expression changed instantly, a charming grin spreading over his lips. “Welcome to the family.”

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi x oc #suga x oc #min yoongi #suga #yandere suga #yandere yoongi #a dangerous game #dark romance #mafia #mafia au #mafia yoongi #mafia suga #adg universe

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yoonjinkooked · 3 years

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Kitchen Confidential | Jin | FINAL

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Enemies to lovers, chef AU

Warnings: explicit sex, cursing, no longer a slow burn ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), unprotected sex (don’t do that), traces of a biting kink, oral (f receiving), short handjob, feelings. A LOT of mentions of food, so you’ll most likely be very hungry for both food and Kim Seokjin.

Word Count: 9k+, previous chapters total to 16k

Summary: After years of annoying the life out of you, your rival, Kim Seokjin, pushes you a step too far and he knows it. As angry and resentful as you are, you don’t realize that something has been brewing under the surface for years. This weekend, that will change.

Read previous parts here: 1 / 2 / 3

SPINOFF ANNOUNCEMENT: COMING SOON, JUNGKOOK’S STORY IN THE SAME UNIVERSE AS KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL

A/N: And it’s done! This one took a while but I’m proud of myself for finishing this fic. I’m more responsible with my writing each day, and that includes actually finishing the stories I start. I have a few ongoing ones and a few wips that I am yet to post but Jungkook’s spinoff will come soon. If all goes according to plan, I will have about...20ish fics in 2021? So, let’s hope all DOES go according to plan. Thank you for following through with this story. Let me know what you think!

Yesterday was something else entirely.

You may or may not have called Jungkook more than ten times. Of course, you had complete faith in him and deep down, you knew he was more than capable of running the kitchen without you but it didn’t hurt to check, did it? So you did. Ten times, before he threatened to block your number, which then had you dialing Namjoon. You had reassured him that your leg is perfectly fine and that you are perfectly capable of standing through service for one night. He insisted that you should rest and that they have everything under control. Which you believed, you really did but you still wanted to check. You’ve stopped calling when he threatened to fire you.

Today was a different story. With no news of a fire breaking out in Bonsai’s kitchen, you were noticeably more relaxed, ready to spend the entire day with your leg propped on a pillow, a tube of ice cream in your hands while rewatching the first season of The Office. All was going according to plan by the time the doorbell rang.

Looking at the clock, you see that it is only 7PM - Bonsai was still open, probably ready for dinner rush hour. It couldn’t be Jungkook and he is quite literally the only person who drops by unannounced whenever he pleases. Did you order food and had a memory blank? You were going to order the house specialty from that new fancy Italian place at the other side of town, just to keep an eye on competition. But did you actually order it? Or are you going crazy?

The doorbell rings again and begrudgingly, you start getting up. “Coming!” you yell, grabbing your wallet as you go, wondering if you even have enough spare change for a tip. No longer wobbling, you simply walk slowly and unlock the door, your jaw dropping when you open it.

On the other side of the door, with a goofy smile on his face and his hands full of paper shopping bags is no one other than Kim Seokjin himself.

“Hi,” he offers a greeting and you could swear you see nerves hiding behind the smile - sure enough, when you stay silent for a second too long, still too confused to speak, you see the tip of his ears turning red. That always used to happen whenever one of the teachers at culinary school was about to taste his dish in front of the entire class. And you probably shouldn’t be aware of that.

“Um… to what do I owe the pleasure?” you ask, once you can finally speak.

“I took a day off,” he announces, as if that is the only explanation you need. “I figured since you’re still officially on sick leave and your leg must hurt, you probably don’t want to cook,” he trails off, his ears now becoming redder. “I guess I just wanted to do something nice.”

“You want to make me dinner?” you check if you heard him correctly. This entire situation seems like a figment of your imagination, a very bizarre one at that. And you don’t even want to know how he knew where you live - that can of worms is not going to be opened.

“Yeah,” he nods proudly. “I mean, I’ll eat too, if you let me,” he jokes and when you stay silent, the smile slowly melts from his face. Realizing that you are leaving him hanging, you step aside to let him in.

“Come on in, the kitchen is the second door on the right,” you inform him and watch, still in a state of shock, as he takes off his shoes in the hallway before making his way down the hallway. That’s when you finally snap out of it, realizing that you won’t have enough time to process this as it’s happening. “What are we making?” you ask as you follow him into the kitchen.

“We are not making anything,” he emphasised as he sets the bags down on the kitchen island, before turning to face you with a stern expression, which instantly makes you feel like a scolded child. “I will be doing all the work as you sit back, relax and have a glass of wine. Unless you’re taking meds for your leg? I didn’t think of that,” he mumbles softly, frowning at the ground.

“No meds,” you inform him. His solemn expression turns bright so fast, you think you might be experiencing whiplash. What the fuck is going on here?! “What are you making?”

“I was wondering what would make an enjoyable, hearty meal that could speed up your recovery process,” he starts explaining. You want to tell him that a leg injury can’t be cured with food but you bite your tongue, not wanting to appear hostile, especially not when he’s in the middle of his grand gesture. You watch as he starts taking the ingredients out of the shopper bags - not one, but two bottles of Pinot Noir, the expensive kind too, followed by mushrooms, a whole bunch of veggies and one gigantic chunk of meat. It’s wrapped, but judging by his choice of wine, it has to be beef.

“You’re making beef stew?” you guess, surprised but not disappointed by his choice of dish. He, on the other hand, seems offended.

“What do you take me for?” he asks, very obviously exaggerating his reaction. “I’m a trained chef, Y/N. I’m making beef bourguignon.”

“Which is just a slightly fancier version of a beef stew,” you laugh, using humour to avoid thinking about the cook and prep time of beef bourguignon - at the very least three hours, even more if you want to Julia Child it and let it simmer properly. More than three hours with Kim Seokjin, in a row, without anyone around to hide behind? “Sounds good!” you lie, trying to look excited because you truly don’t want to ruin something that just seems like a nice gesture.

“Perfect!” he beams at you. “Now, where do you keep your chopping boards?”

No, you don’t have the time to think about it, not while it’s literally ongoing. You shake your head and decide to roll with the punches. “I want to help you, though. I can’t just sit here and let you do all the work. Not to mention how wrong it feels to have someone cooking in my kitchen,” you add, realizing that no one other than yourself ever cooked here - no one, ever.

“The cupboard under the sink,” you tell him as you sit down drag a chair towards the kitchen island, worried about the predicament you are in. First, the feelings, the ones you have shamelessly pushed under the rug and had refused to acknowledge. They have blindsided you and you can’t even properly define and understand him and now he is here, in your apartment, your kitchen, making dinner.

Not to mention that you aren’t exactly wearing your Sunday best. He’s all jeans and an elegant blue sweater, while you’re in mis-matched sweatpants and sweatshirt, which are both a size or two too big for you. Your hair is a mess and frankly, you can’t even recall if you’d washed your face this morning. You are a mess, both physically and emotionally and he has cornered you, most likely without even realizing it.

“In that case, you can peel and chop,” he starts laughing at your exasperated expression. “Come on, don’t look at me like that - I’m trying to do something nice here. The point is for you to relax and enjoy a good meal, a meal that someone else has cooked for you. And if you do insist on helping, then you can peel and chop.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you think you know why. It’s the feelings, they’re making you feel touched by his actions. He is spending his day off here, doing something nice for you, on his own free will? Just a week ago, all of this would have been a major red flag. And now it’s just something that makes you feel thankful, giddy even.

“Give me my peeler then,” you say, holding the palm of your hand open, waiting.

He smirks at you, shaking his head with what looks like disbelief and you smirk back, unable to stop yourself. The not so subtle stare off between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s miles away from the feeling you had over the weekend, when you were straight up avoiding making direct eye contact with him. This time, you’re keeping it up, smiling when he is the one who breaks. He turns around and opens one of the drawers, finding the peeler on the first try before leaning over the island and handing it to you with a smirk still present on his face.

“Let’s start working, chef.”

The decision to slow down with the wine after your first glass was a good one. Not only is the wine one of the best ones you’ve tasted in a while, you also wanted to keep a clear head. Alcohol tends to greatly weaken your brain to mouth filter and that can’t happen when you’re one on one with Seokjin. You don’t want to ruin the evening.

It felt as if he was the same Seokjin he was back when you first started school. The interesting, charming guy with a good sense of humor. He can still act over the top, which he did, but he was more toned down than usual. Is usual even the right word? It’s not, not when you don’t have much to compare it to. This is the first time the two of you have been alone for more than a few minutes, simply talking and enjoying the conversation.

“You can’t be serious,” Seokjin laughs, putting one of the plates that he was washing back in the sink to turn around and give you a doubtful look. “You mean outside the subway, right?”

“Nope, it was below ground, right around the corner from the trains,” you confirm, remembering that day clearly. “I remember that I was starving, so maybe that’s why the croissant was so good. It was cheap, on a Parisian subway and it still is my favorite food memory from Paris.”

“You’re picking that subway croissant over… ratatouille or bouillabaisse?”

“I said favorite, not the most delicious one,” you point out with a laugh. “Travelling and eating go hand in hand, at least to me. Wherever I went, I’ve made a point to spend a good amount of my budget just on food. I’d go where the locals go, try food I didn’t recognize… Honestly, I miss that. I’m limited to one vacation a year and it’s usually just one destination.”

“I get that,” he tells you as he continues washing the dishes, which he insisted to do, despite your multiple offers to at least cover the clean up part of the evening. “A good friend of mine lives in Greece, owns an amazing restaurant. I’ve gone there for the past three years and don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, I live for Greek food. But I want to explore more, you know?”

“That’s very relatable,” you sigh, suddenly feeling a little bit regretful. “I’ve been to Italy, Japan, France numerous times, had the most amazing experiences but there are so many other places waiting to be discovered and I just play it safe. I want to go somewhere and try… I don’t know, all the weird stuff that sounds unappetizing but is actually the local specialty. I’m a bit tired of the classic dishes that end up on our menus and comfort food.”

“What’s your favorite comfort food?” Seokjin asks you, as he finally wraps up his work and joins you, sitting across the island and reaching for his own glass of wine as you try to think of an answer. Comfort food by taste or comfort food by memory?

“I have to go with potatoes.”

He chokes on his drink, making you laugh at his reaction. Once again, you are met with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Potatoes? Out of all the food in the world?”

“You said comfort food, not favorite food,” you remind him with a grin. “And yeah, it’s potatoes. They’re so simple and versatile and you can do whatever the hell you want with them. When I was a kid, my mom used to make me and my brother these stuffed, roasted potatoes. I don’t even know the ingredients honestly, I’ve never tried making them myself like that. To get that original comfort food taste, it has to be made by my mom. No one else.”

“I’m a professional chef and I still fully acknowledge that I’m nowhere near as good as my mom is,” Seokjin’s admission makes you laugh but you understand it fully. “She used to make the most amazing mac and cheese. Unlike you, I did try to recreate it - I followed her recipe to a T and still ended up with a sad imitation. Nothing ever beats the food you grew up eating.”

“Are you close to your family?” you ask and regret it immediately, wondering if that is too much, if you’re asking questions you have no business knowing answers to. You’ve known Seokjin for years but you could hardly call him a friend when you know so little about him.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he nods, not even hesitating to share information about his personal life. “I visit them often and I try to go fishing with my brother as much as I can. What about you?”

“As close as we can be,” you shrug, reaching for your wine. “You know what our working hours are like and as much as I want to drive and see them on the weekends, I often just can’t. And my brother lives abroad with his wife and kids, so we rarely see each other. We facetime often, though. His kids are already starting school next year.”

“I have a niece,” Seokjin smiles with that cute, content smile that now feels familiar. You wait as he pulls out his phone, turning it to proudly show off the photo he selected - it’s him with a child in his arms, a little girl with the cutest face, big smile and tiny little pigtails. She can’t be more than three years old and she looks so happy to be held by her uncle.

“Oh, she is so cute! She adores you, doesn’t she?” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

“I think she loves me more than her parents,” he admits, breaking into a fit of laughter. “She doesn’t let go of me, which I don’t mind, I adore the kid, but she just fuels my mother’s need for more grandchildren and when she clings to me… well…”

“Oh, I know,” you wave your hand. “Mine have two grandchildren and not a single reunion passes without them wondering when I’m going to reproduce.” They mean well, you know that and you don’t hold it against them. There are just times when they make you feel like you’re not doing a good enough job with the life they’ve given you, just because you haven’t had kids yet. Yes, they mean well but that’s not something you often want to hear.

“Do you want kids?” he asks. It should feel weird, it really should, talking about these things with him. It’s personal, too personal even, but you feel so at ease around him tonight, you can’t be bothered to care. It doesn’t feel wrong, not in the slightest.

“One day, yeah,” you shrug, seeing as this wasn’t something you thought about often. When you’re single and haven’t had a serious relationship in years, kids are on the back burner. “What about you? I don’t know why, but I never pegged you for a parental type.”

“You don’t know me very well then,” he laughs and the way he does it is so… cheeky and teasing. If anyone else was sitting here with you right now, you would swear on your life that they were flirting. Without a doubt, the teasing smile and raised eyebrow would make your mind go in that direction. Seeing as this is Seokjin, you can’t be too sure. It goes against everything he has ever said and done. But like a curse, Jungkook’s words come back to haunt you again. Would it be so weird to think that he likes you? He is here, after all.

“You’re right,” you nod as you put down your glass. “I don’t know you very well, do I?” he seems surprised at your question, even going so far as to look uncomfortable. Only for a second, before he offers you a smile.

“What would you like to know?”

“Why are you here?” you ask. It wasn’t what you were planning on asking, not by a long shot. You wanted to ask stupid questions, to find out what his favorite movies are, what’s his most embarrassing memory - the things you know about your friends. A game of 20 questions was what you had in mind when pointing out that you don’t really know a lot about him but when the opportunity presented itself, your self control had other plans. And seriously - why is he here?

Seokjin blinks a couple of times, seemingly needing time to process your question and think of a decent answer. “I wanted to do something nice,” he shrugs, giving you the same excuse that he had given earlier. You didn’t doubt it much then but now you’ve started wondering. “We’ve decided to start over and I… wanted to extend an olive branch.”

It makes perfect sense and you don’t believe a single word of it. “Why are you really here?” you push, following your instinct. Said instinct might be affected by the feelings but it’s there. And if there is one thing you’ve learned in life, it’s to follow your gut feeling - always.

Seokjin chuckles nervously and lo and behold, his ears give him away. “Do you think there’s an ulterior motive here?” he asks, shaking his head. He’s a decent actor, but not nearly as good as he thinks he is. He’s way too defensive for someone with no ulterior motives. “I didn’t poison the beef bourguignon, if that’s what you’re aiming at,” he adds, pointing back at the stove, where your dinner has been slowly simmering for about an hour now.

“No, I don’t think you’re trying to poison me,” you chuckle, shaking your head, wondering if you should just stop talking and drop the whole thing entirely. “I thought that… You know what? Never mind,” you decide, knowing that some questions are perhaps better left unanswered. “Tell me, what’s your favorite TV show? Are you a binger or a once a week type of guy?”

“Y/N, you don’t get to change topics on me like that,” Seokjin looks serious now, refusing to break eye contact. You struggle to not look away, knowing that you have pushed it too far and now you’re unable to backtrack. He won’t let you. “What did you think?” he asks.

What’s the worst thing that could happen if you answer truthfully? He could laugh at you and that’s pretty much it. And if he does start laughing, you can play it off and join in on the joke. And if he pulls the ultimate dick move and tells your mutual friends about it, you can always deny.

“The things that happened over the weekend had made me wonder,” you tell him, deciding to leave out the part when Jungkook opened your eyes to this possibility. “Some of the things that you’ve said kind of got my wheels spinning, you know?” you ask. As he swallows a lump, still not looking away from you, you decide to rip off the bandaid and throw your theory out. “Call me crazy and feel free to laugh and tell me I’m a fool but… Seokjin… do you like me?”

Zero emotions are shown on his face. It’s the most perfect poker face that you have ever seen - exposed forehead, full lips and all. Self confidence was never a strong suit of yours, except in the kitchen of course, but you know better than to try and backtrack now. Seconds ago, it was still salvageable. Now, you’ve said it and it’s out in the open. You were either right or wrong.

You wait, not backing away from the nth stare down of the night. You wait, letting him have his time to prepare an answer, whether it’s the truth or a lie. If your suspicions weren’t correct, wouldn’t he have already said something?

“What gave me away?”

And there it is. Jungkook was right and you were blind. How are you supposed to feel now? Relieved? Worried? Panicked? Amused? None of those make sense, nor do they describe the way you are feeling now. With Seokjin looking at you as if he has finally given up, finally surrendered, the only emotion that you can single out with clarity is curiosity.

“Wow. I mean, I wasn’t sure, I half expected you to laugh mockingly or something,” you admit, finally looking away and shaking your head, as if that’s supposed to get your thoughts in order. “The other night, when you said that you just did it to make me laugh… I thought, maybe…”

Lies. Jungkook figured it out, and even then, you refused to believe. Even now, you’re still expecting Seokjin to start laughing, claiming that he had pulled off the ultimate prank. He doesn’t - in fact, he looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him.

“Makes sense,” he lets out a dark chuckle. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Or pissed at myself. I’ve said too much, I’ve set myself up,” the way he runs a hand through his hair, with that solemn look on his face makes him look… hot. Like, really hot. “But at least it’s out in the open, right? Now you know.”

“Wait,” you raise a hand. “I have no idea what you’re trying to say. Like… since when? How? Why? I… I don’t get it.”

“Since when?” he laughs. Now you’re borderline worried, the guy looks like he’s going to experience a mental breakdown any second now. “Pretty much for as long as we’ve known each other. I know, shocking,” he adds, seeing how your eyes had widened when you heard his answer. “To think how I thought that I was obvious.”

“Oh no, you weren’t,” you sit up straighter, your voice raised up a notch. “You were anything but, Seokjin. I thought you despised me! That I was your arch nemesis or some shit like that.”

“Well, maybe I wasn’t obvious to you but I was to others, I’m damn sure all of Catnip knows by now,” he tells you and he looks as if he is calming himself down. His voice is lower and he’s no longer making eye contact, but staring at the island between you. “What I said was true, I did do it to make you laugh and somewhere along the way, I’ve pissed you off, so much so that you went on thinking that I hated you. Which I don’t, by the way. Never have.”

“You… you are a horrible flirt, you know that, right?” is all you can say now, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that the man had a crush on you for years. This time when he laughs, it’s not the dark tone that his laughter had just moments ago. This time around, his laughter is very much genuine, but it also dies down fast.

“I’m very much aware of that,” he confirms, finally looking your way again. There’s not a trace of positive emotion on his face. It’s as if he has completely given up on this conversation ending with a positive outcome. You can’t blame them for that - given the questioning that you’re putting him through and your history together - if you were in his shoes, you’d also see this as an uncomfortable rejection conversation.

Is it, though? It would be, if it weren’t for the feelings. They’re there. You have no fucking clue what they are, much less what they mean but they are there and you can’t ignore their existence any longer. They remind you that once upon a time, he really did make you laugh. That this whole dumb rivalry made you want to work harder and be better, even if it was for the petty reason of simply being better than him. The feelings remind you that you did always consider him attractive, that that stupid smile that he has when he’s truly happy and content does things to you. The feelings remind you that you can recognize the tell-tale signs of his embarrassment. You might not know him well, every line and crevice, every positive and negative but you still know more than you had originally thought. And you want to know more.

“Why?” you ask, knowing you won’t have a peace of mind until you know, even if asking such questions might make him feel uncomfortable. “Why me? I just… I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I,” he answers immediately, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t have a big reason behind it or a particular moment when I realized. Liking you was instant. Of course, it didn’t develop into something… deeper straight away. That part lasted years, but it was impossible not to like you, Y/N. We’re chefs. We make food, that’s our job - our job is to take food and cook it, presented in a visually appealing manner and charge for it more than we should. And you take such a simple, almost meaningless thing and turn it into an art form.”

Although touching and meaningful, his words confuse the life out of you. “You like me because I’m a good chef?” you ask, wondering if you’ve missed something.

“I like you because of the dedication you give to it,” he elaborates. “That stupid excercise that we did the other day didn’t let me do you justice. The look on your face that you’ve had on that first day remains the same now, whenever I see you taking the simplest ingredients and turning them into art. I have admired that and it’s one of the reasons why my eyes would look for you every damn time we were in that test kitchen. You were there and so focused, so beautiful and so damn good at what you did. And smart, funny, a good leader and a good friend. It also didn’t hurt that you look damn hot when you’re focused on something.”

The last part he adds, almost like an afterthought and it makes you laugh. He laughs too, when you make eye contact. The feelings have gone haywire. You officially have no control of them because the things that he has said about you, you recognized in him as well, at one point or another. He is so good at what he does, dedicated and driven, while also being a good leader and from what you’ve seen, an awesome friend. To others he was funny - to you, he was a pain in the ass that just so happened to look damn hot when he was focused on something.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit when you start feeling as if the silence is lasting too long.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he waves his hand, dismissing your suggestion and once again, confusing the hell out of you. “It’s out in the open and now you know why I was an idiot for all those years. I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted us to start fresh and be friendly with one another. I’m a big boy, I know that what’s not meant to be is not meant to be.”

“No, you’re not,” you shake your head, amused at the confusion etched on his face. “You are childish and often petty and honestly, at times you are the most insufferable being on this planet and I can’t even begin to describe how confusing it is that I find that endearing.”

As you listed all the things he is, you watched as his face fell, but you didn’t have a chance to feel bad about it, not when you know that despite all of that, he’s still a good guy. He’s still Seokjin, with all his quirks and insufferable moments. And as much as you might want to deny it, you like him. You really do like him.

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t always endearing - in fact, more often than not, you were a real pain in the ass. You’re not a big boy who can handle rejection well and I don’t want to see you handle it. I don’t want to watch you struggle to get over this crush of yours for weeks, months even. I also don’t want to watch you finding it easy to get over it, completely forgetting all about it in a matter of days,” you tell him and you’re not even sure if the words make sense but they go out of your mouth and into his ears, making his eyes go wide.

“Y/N, what are you trying to say?”

“I have no fucking clue,” you shrug, getting up from your chair. “I didn’t have enough time to process any of this. Just minutes ago, I thought there’s no way in hell that you’re that dumb to pull a third grader flirting technique,” you keep talking as you walk over to him, watching him as he turns to face you, slightly alarmed by your sudden proximity, even if there’s a good two feet between you. “I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, or feeling for that matter, but I do know that I am feeling something. Don’t ask me to define it, cause I can’t, not in this mindfuck of a plot twist that my life did not prepare me for. I just know that I want to test something out.”

“Test? Test out what?” he asks as you take the final step to close the gap between you.

“This,” is all you tell him as you grab a hold of his cute blue sweater and pull him closer, not wasting a single second before you press your lips to his. Neither of you moves for a moment or two, he out of shock and you out of pure confusion because why the hell are you kissing Kim Seokjin?! A few seconds pass and it’s he who starts moving, bringing life into your dead kiss. And the moment he does, you feel it in the pit of your stomach that there is nothing, absolutely nothing wrong about this. When he puts his hands on your sides, you let yours move from where they were clutching onto his sweater up and around his neck, pulling him down, closer to you. The strands of hair that reach the nape of his neck feel like silk under your fingers and when you feel his tongue graze your bottom lip, you softly gasp.

That makes him pull away - that little gasp of yours seems like a wake-up call for him because he is pulling away, his eyes wide, making him look as if he thinks he is imagining all of this. He looks shocked but he is not letting go of you and your hands are still locked behind his neck.

“Kissing you is good,” you conclude. “I want to keep doing that.”

“Zero complaints here,” is all he says before he stands up and kisses you again. Without breaking the kiss, he twists your hips to the side, making you lean back on the island, the edge of the surface pressing into your back as he essentially cages you.

It’s funny, how many things about him you never really realized. For example, how tall he actually is and how much he has to bend down in order to kiss you, which he does, diligently. You also have never noticed how clear his skin is, not until your fingers grazed his cheeks softly. He was in front of you, right in front of you, all these years and until tonight, he was nothing more than an annoying guy with a good face. How wrong you were…

“Of course, you’re a good kisser too,” he sighs as he breaks the kiss, leaning his forehead on yours, his eyes still closed. “Are you an overachiever in every aspect of your life?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease, chuckling when he backs away, startled.

“That’s not… I wasn’t trying to insinuate something,” he defends himself immediately.

“But I am,” you giggle at the way his eyes widen. You can’t blame him - this night has made you go from zero to sixty in no time. That realization does make you nervous but you’ve already decided to push it back and just do whatever it is that you want to do. “I’m telling you, I don’t want to think or define. We can deal with that later. Now, I just want… you.”

Seokjin takes a second, gulping, looking at you as if he is waiting for you to laugh in his face or take the offer back. When he stays silent for what you deem as a bit too long, you smile softly at him and drag your thumb across his bottom lip - it’s so soft and inviting, already red from the kisses that you’ve shared. You want him and he needs to stop second guessing that.

Whatever it is that he was looking for on your face, he seems to have found it because he’s suddenly kissing you again, with a lot more ferocity than he did just moments ago. That was a kiss, a first kiss, a getting-to-know-what-this-feels-like kiss - this is a kiss. Hands digging into your skin, tongue driving you crazy with gasps and heavy breathing kind of kiss.

You are the one who pulls away but you stay silent, taking his hand into yours and leading him towards the door. A silent moment is exchanged when he looks at the stove, where your dinner is still cooking, then back to you. Beef bourguignon takes hours to make and given the years of expertise between the two of you, you’re comfortable with leaving the stove on. So you laugh and he does too, before you pull him into the hallway.

Along the way, you kiss, hit a few walls and your sweatshirt is left discarded on the floor - you don’t have time for another freakout at how ridiculously unprepared you are for this because the way he looks at you kills the little insecurities that haunt you. His eyes scan over any area of skin that they can see while his fingers slide over the very edge of your bra, tickling the skin they graze. Goosebumps cover your skin and you all but slam him into your bedroom door.

“Woah,” he laughs. “Never thought you were this impatient.”

“I’m usually not,” you admit with a shrug.

“I’m not complaining,” he laughs as the two of you waddle towards the bed, still pressed to one another. You smile as you push him gently onto the bed. He looks up at you, mouth open and eyebrows raised. “Oh, I am not complaining at all!”

Smiling, you straddle his lap and pause for a second, taking a moment to get used to what’s happening. Unlike you, he is patient - he simply looks at you, a strange mix of awe and giddiness written on his face. His hands are glued to your hips and he runs his thumbs in circles, gently. It looks as if he’s relishing the moment and letting you take the lead in what’ll happen next. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” you ask, your chest filling with pride when he shows you that signature smile of his, the one that causes a ruckus among the butterflies in your stomach.

“I think it is,” he leans closer to you, connecting his lips to your neck and that one, simple action is enough to make you realize that if he’s down, you’ll be more than happy to take it all the way tonight. Neck kisses are a universal weakness and you’re gladly going to let him use it to his advantage. “If this ends up being a wet dream of mine, I’m going to be so pissed when I wake up,” he admits before nipping at your skin, an action that elicits a whole new wave of horniness to take over you. Neck kisses are bad enough - neck bites will be your downfall.

“If it is a wet dream, come and find me when you wake up and tell me what you’ve told me tonight. Then we’ll see what we can do about it,” you joke, laughing even harder when he grabs a hold of you and moves you down on the bed. This is the first sign of initiative that he has shown so far and you are not complaining. It’s your turn now to gulp as he hovers above you, looking down at your body like he is seconds away from eating you alive.

“I thought you were hot before but I never thought you were hiding all of this under your clothes,” he tells you as he pulls down on the straps of your bra - at least your underwear is a matching black set, if the rest of you is a mess. Lifting your back from the bed, you help him take the fabric off and he grins up at you once your boobs are out in the open. “Chef’s uniforms really didn’t do your boobs justice.”

“You’ve seen me in casual clothes plenty of times,” you laugh at his antics. He’s known you for years, there’s no way he didn’t catch a good view of your cleavage in all that time.

“Not nearly as often as I should have,” he mumbles and before you have a chance to talk back, he leaves you speechless as he attaches his mouth to you, immediately giving your nipple a gentle bite. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, you do your best to stay silent - there’s no way in hell Seokjin won’t be cocky about this later and you don’t want to give him too much material to work with right off the bat.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that one of the hottest things about being with Seokjin like this is simply seeing Seokjin like this. There is just something so inherently hot about the way his eyes close as rolls his tongue across your nipple. He makes the sight even hotter than the action itself, especially when he reaches for your other breast, gently playing with it as he pleases. Simple actions like that are already driving you nuts and you can only worry about what’s to come later. And it gets worse - turned on by the sight, you reach for him, moving the hair away from his eyes and the second you two make eye contact, a moan leaves you - a loud, shameless one at that. You could swear his eyes twinkled then and there.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” he starts kissing down your body.

“If you’re clean, you don’t need it. I’m clean and on the pill.”

He suddenly stops kissing you, choosing to laugh instead. “You’re telling me that a week ago you could barely stand being in the same room with me and now you’re letting me sleep with you without a condom?”

“I mean...” you shrug, joining in on his laughter. “I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

“Not to me they haven’t,” he jokes, before immediately turning serious. “Are you sure you want this? I really don’t want you to regret it,” he admits.

“The only thing I’m going to regret is letting you take the lead because you’re taking too long and you’re still in your clothes.”

“Easy,” he laughs as he hooks his fingers past the waistband of your sweatpants and slowly starts pulling them down, leaving your underwear in place. “Eat what makes you happy, they say,” he says and you roll your eyes. Of course, leave it to Seokjin to think pussy.

“They also say don’t play with your food,” you playfully remind him as you kick off the pants. He doesn’t laugh - instead, he reaches for your leg and softly caresses it.

“Is your leg going to be okay?” he asks and if you weren’t whipped beyond belief before, you are now. Even you have managed to completely forget about your injury but he hasn't. Even now, Seokjin finds ways to prove you wrong and show how thoughtful he actually is.

You simply nod and that’s confirmation enough for him. His hand trails up and on the inside of your thigh pausing before touching your wet underwear. He gives you a questioning look, not touching you until you confirm that that’s what you want. You nod quickly and in a matter of seconds, the last of your clothes is on the floor, and Seokjin is diving right in.

Despite complaining that he’s taking too long, you realize that he’s not the one to tease - at least not tonight. His mouth connects with your clit almost immediately and it’s enough to make you moan again. He licks, sucks and grazes his teeth against it, letting you hold onto his hair like your life depends on it. He’s good, which makes perfect sense because leave it to Kim Seokjin to give you the best oral sex of your entire life. You won’t tell him - not now, perhaps not ever, cause he doesn’t need that to get into his head too, but good lord is he good.

“Can I?” he asks, tracing his finger across your opening.

“Seokjin, at this point you can do whatever the fuck you want,” you laugh, a laugh that turns into a moan when he sinks his finger in, curving it up immediately and making you arch your back.

“Is this good?” he asks and the feelings go berserk again. In your mind, it can’t get any better than a man that actually pays attention to what his lover enjoys.

“More than,” you moan as he adds another finger and effectively ends your conversation. He is driving you crazy - something that you’ve noticed before, when you side eyed his chopping skills years ago, is how he has beautiful hands with long, almost elegant fingers. Never did you think that those fingers would be inside you, making you count your blessings and struggle to not moan out his name. A struggle that you have lost when he puts a third finger to use.

You want more - as amazing as it is, you want more. You want to kiss him, to feel him inside you, to make him feel as good as he is making you feel now. As much as you didn’t want to stop him, as much as you’d gladly spend hours like this, you wanted and needed more.

“Seokjin, stop,” he does so immediately, looking up at you in worry. His face is covered in your wetness and the sight makes you want to cry. He has never looked hotter than he does right now, between your legs, the evidence of your pleasure all over his face and his hair a mess because of you. “I want you. Wanna kiss you.”

“But you taste heavenly,” he pouts, turning his head to leave kisses on your thigh.

“I’ll taste heavenly a bit later too,” you push, knowing that no matter how good this feels, it can get better for the both of you. “Come on, I want to see you.”

Grinning, he gives your thigh a quick bite - the man has a biting kink, there’s no denying it. While that’s something you’ve never given much thought before, you are now finding it very enjoyable. What’s even more enjoyable is the sight of Seokjin taking his sweater off. You’ve known he’s handsome, you’re not blind, but never in a million years would you think that he’s so well defined. He’s not buff, far from it. He is just so perfectly defined, every muscle on his stomach noticeable and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, lickable.

He undresses quickly as you ogle at him, your breath hitching the moment he drops his pants.

“Well, that explains a lot,” you comment as you eye his dick - hard, girthy and surprisingly big.

“What?” Seokjin is confused and you giggle at the way he hides his dick with his hands. “You think I’m compensating for something?”

“Quite the opposite,” you answer honestly. “I imagine it’s easy being so full of yourself with a dick like that.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” he laughs.

“Both,” you would have been more cheeky if he hadn’t started stroking himself, the sight driving you absolutely crazy. “Please. I want to feel you.”

You don’t have to say it again - he moves to loom over you and finally, after what feels like hours and not mere minutes, you can kiss him again. The taste of you on his tongue doesn’t bother you. It’s the opposite, actually, making this moment and Seokjin himself even hotter to you. He lets you push him down onto the bed and without breaking the kiss, you station yourself above him. For the first time tonight, his hands grab a hold of your ass and he squeezes - hard.

Both of you stay silent as you move, putting your arm between the two of you to grab a hold of his dick as you kiss. He lets out a groan the moment you wrap your hands around it. Movements gentle and slow, teasing even, knowing that this is the only chance you get to focus on his pleasure. You’d gladly take him into your mouth but you’re much too impatient for that tonight. A brief hand job will have to do, and judging by his reactions, it’s more than enough.

You are surprised at how vocal Seokjin actually is in bed, not that you’ve given it much thought before. He’s not holding back, his moans low and deep, not embarrassed in the slightest to show you how good you’re making him feel. After one particular, higher pitched moan, you decide to do the same. You were holding back before, stupidly worried about your own dignity and giving him material to tease you endlessly. You won’t anymore.

Biting your bottom lip and pulling it as he breaks the kiss, he leans back, looking at you with lust in his eyes, his cheeks the exact same shade as the tips of his ears. You want to take a photograph, to memorize the sight of him being turned. It feels like a privilege that only you have and you want to commit it to memory. “Y/N, please,” is all he says.

Slowly, you line him up to your entrance and with your bottom lip between your teeth, you sink down on him. Immediately, the both of you groan at the feeling. Him being inside you feels right in all the wrong ways, a feeling so right that you know you’re going to miss it when it’s gone.

He is the one who moves first, lifting his hips to get you to move. Smiling down at him, you grab a hold of his shoulders and slowly move your hips, letting him almost slip out of you before swallowing him whole again. Each roll of your hips faster than the previous one, not even a minute passes before Seokjin moves his hands away from your ass and pulls you directly on top of him, chest to chest, lips stuck in a slow kiss as he slams up into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N,” he tells you and follows it with a particular hard thrust that makes you grip his shoulders harder, holding on for dear life. Having never been with him before, you couldn’t tell if he was close or not. You weren’t, yet strangely, that doesn’t bother you whatsoever. That can be dealt with easily - now, all you want to do is enjoy the feeling of him slamming into you, hard and fast, and the sight of him barely keeping it together.

“Happy to hear that,” you giggle before said giggle is rudely interrupted with another harsher snap of his hips. “Fine, fine, you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease and the look he gives you is enough for you to know that you’ll regret saying that. Immediately.

Without any warning, he flips you around and slams you down on the bed, his dick never leaving you. Before you can even react in any way, your healthy leg is pushed up towards your chest and Seokjin slams into you with a purpose. “You talk about how I annoyed the life out of you, pretending like you’ve never bickered back with that mouth of yours,” his words are menacing and incredibly sexy, but the way he is eating you up with his eyes kills any doubt that his words are actually resentful. “I’m glad I’ve found a way to shut you up,” he announces and as if you weren’t losing your mind already, he sneaks a finger between your legs and pinches your clit, eliciting the loudest moan of the night. “Or maybe not.”

“Seokjin!”

“Fuck, you sound so hot screaming my name,” his pace speeds up, knowing that your orgasm is right around the corner - his thrusts become more shallow but his fingers rub your clit in the speed of light. “Come on Y/N, come for me.”

As much as you wish that your body complied and let you come on his command, it didn’t happen that way. It took a few thrusts more, a few more harsher movements of his fingers, but by the time your orgasm has washed over you, you were gasping loudly, digging your nails into the skin of his back. Your brain was mush and you could barely recognize the words he’s saying, something about how you’re squeezing him so good. He doesn’t stop moving, helping you ride out your orgasm to the point of overstimulation. Coming out of your post-orgasm haze, you fight the overstimulation and focus on him, noticing how his thrusts are getting more erratic. He looks so out of it, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, his shoulders red with how strong you are gripping him. Slowly, you slide your hands up and around his neck, pulling him down to you, ignoring the painful stretch in your leg.

“You can finish inside me,” you tell him, hushing his loud moan with a kiss. It’s a hectic kiss, your lips barely moving because he’s gasping into your mouth and you’re moaning at the feeling of his dick twitching inside you. “Seokjin, please come for me.”

Was it you begging for him to come or a creampie kink, you have no idea and you don’t particularly care because the moment he comes and starts filling you up, you’re on cloud nine. It feels as good as an actual orgasm, to know that you, your body, the way you made him feel was enough to make him explode, very literally. You were the one helping him now, lifting up your hips as he stood still, his face buried in your neck, his groans filling your ear. His dick is still twitching but his body has completely given up - he drops your leg and practically falls on top of you, having enough strength and sanity to soften the blow with his hands.

His hands give up slowly and in a matter of seconds every inch of him is pressed up against you. You don’t care, too busy relishing the feeling of his breaths on your neck and his cum slowly dripping out of you and around his dick. God, you wish you could see it but the position won’t let you. Instead of pushing him away to get a better view, you close your eyes and let your body calm down together with his.

His weight on top of you should feel suffocating but it’s not. It feels comforting and right, which scares you to an extent but not enough to chicken out and push him away, especially not when he starts kissing any parts of you he can reach, focusing on your shoulder. After a few moments he rolls over but stays close, his hand draped over your side. You look at each other and it’s impossible not to smile because he is beaming. You can’t remember if you’ve ever seen him this happy. You must have - it’s just that you probably weren’t paying attention.

“So… that happened,” he speaks up first.

“Yup. Talk about a plot twist, huh?” you joke, shaking your head as you realize how weird this is on paper. “Culinary school Y/N never thought a day would come when she’d have sex with Seokjin.”

“Yesterday’s Seokjin never thought a day would come when he’d have sex with Y/N,” he laughs, shuffling closer to you. By the looks of it, he is a cuddler and you have zero complaints about it. You let him hold you, snuggling against his chest, enjoying the moment a lot more than you ever thought you could. “Let me take you out, Y/N,” he tells you. He seems earnest and a lot more hopeful than he was back in the kitchen. “You found it in you to put the tension behind and give us a shot at being friends. Why not give this a shot, too? I like you a lot and I’ve liked you for a while… maybe you could find something to like in little old me?” he shrugs.

“It’s already too late for that,” you laugh, lowering your head to leave a few kisses on his chest. “I’m still not ready to define it and put it to words but I’d be happy to go out with you,” you admit.

“It might not take us anywhere,” he shrugs, making your head bounce with the movement. “For all we know, you might realize you do hate my guts after all. But maybe we end up getting along better than anyone would expect?”

“Seokjin… with your cooking skills and your oral skills, we’re already getting along very well, if you ask me,” you joke but after a few seconds of laughter, he sits up and pushes you away.

“The beef bourguignon!” he gasps. The sight of Seokjin running out of your bedroom, naked, to check on the food brings tears to your eyes. You can even hear him berating you, yelling something about how this is not a laughing matter but that only makes it more comical. Isn’t it ironic how now, he can make you laugh without even trying?

The beef bourguignon didn’t burn. It was the best beef bourguignon that you’ve ever had. The entire evening was one of the best in your recent memory. Whether it was the dinner, his sweater that you were wearing while you ate, the wine, the shared shower or waking up the next morning in his embrace, the time you’ve spent with Seokjin was enjoyable, perhaps even meaningful and definitely worth repeating.

As long as you are both willing to give it a go, it’s worth it. And it has to be kept between the two of you, at least for now. Cause as much as you like Seokjin, his cooking skills and his dick, your group of friends will never, ever, let you live this one down. Although, for all of the above… it might just be worth it.

THE END

#BTS smut #bts fanfiction #seokjin smut #jin smut #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #bts au #seokjin au #bts scenario #bts fanfic #jin x you #jin x reader #bts jin #seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #yoonjinkooked #jin scenario

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sarcasmandships · 3 years

Text

how to save a life ︱spencer reid

word count: 8.3k

spencer reid x slight oc

spencer and veronica argue over him keeping their relationship from the team, but when spencer sustains a life-threatening gun shot wound it puts everything into perspective

angst + hurt/comfort with an eventual happy ending

this is not an x reader because i hate writing y/n in place of a character name and it often forces you into writing in second person which i also hate - however I have avoided giving specific descriptions of hair/eye/skin colour, height and body shape so feel free to imagine it like an x reader

this is also heavily inspired by greys anatomy and ive taken characters from the show to be side characters, however you do not need to have watched a single episode of greys to follow the story

warnings: mention of rape, mentions of past drug use, spencer being shot, descriptions of blood, spencer being a bit of a dick in part 1??

Veronica groaned and rolled onto her stomach, shielding her eyes from the dull light illuminating the room. Her body was stiff as she twisted to find a more comfortable position, but the glare from the lamp was still too bright, so she huffed and forced herself to sit upright.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Spencer whispered.

Veronica was still groggy and had to squint her eyes to focus on him. He was stood on the other side of her bedroom, half dressed in a pair of tight grey trousers and an unbuttoned pale blue shirt. Her eyes raked over his exposed skin.

She grumbled and flopped back down on the bed, “you’re lucky you’re pretty, waking me up at 5am on a Saturday.”

He frowned, “it’s an emergency – we just got called in on a case.”

“Is this your way of telling me you can’t come tonight?” she snorted, looking up at him lazily as her head rested on her pillow.

“The fundraising gala – right,” he said stiffly, slowly doing up his buttons, “it’s a local one, so we won’t be flying out, but I can’t justify sneaking off to a party while we’re working a case.”

“Its not a party,” Veronica said through gritted teeth, “parties are fun. This is a stupid campaign that Jackson organized to raise funds for the hospital. Where I’m expected to go and charm rich, old, white men into giving us money, and whichever department raises the most money gets a bonus-”

“And you think I’d have been a valuable addition to your efforts because?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because, you have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187 – that impresses everyone, and maybe it could’ve impressed some hedge fund manager enough to give me, and my department, the big bucks.”

“You flatter me.”

“Yeah, remember this feeling – cos’ you won’t be getting any more nice words from me for a while,” Veronica grumbled into her pillow; she pulled the duvet tighter around her body and screwed her eyes shut, they still hadn’t adjusted to the glow from the lamp.

Spencer had finished getting dressed, and he sighed deeply as he crept over to the bed. He crawled on top of the duvet and wrapped his arms around Veronica’s body.

“You know I would rather be with you, but if I don’t go to work, people die,” he whispered in her ear.

Veronica twisted her torso to face him, “Spencer I get it – if I don’t go to work people die too, I just hate your job when it means we can’t do things together. That gala just going to be full of dull, sleazy men – you would’ve kept me sane.”

He wrapped his arms around her, tighter, “I know, I hate it too. I just can’t leave in the middle of a serial case like this, plus even if I tried to the team would have too many questions because-”

Veronica’s body stiffened, and she unconsciously shifted away from him, “because you still haven’t told them about us, even though we’ve been together for years, and you know all my friends, and we go to work events together for my job. But we can’t for yours because you still haven’t told your team, who you consider family. I’m well aware of that fact, Spencer.”

“Veronica, you know it’s nothing to do with you. There are just some things I like to keep private from them-”

“I’m not a thing! I’m a person, and you’re not keeping it private, you’re keeping it secret. Private would be if they knew I existed but didn’t know all the details of our relationship, but that’s not what’s happening here,” she snapped.

“V, don’t be like that-”

“You should just go; you’ll be late for work. Wouldn’t want to let down your team like that.”

Spencer sighed and let go of her, he shuffled around the room gathering up his bag and coat before heading to the door.

“Goodbye, good luck at the fundraiser. Hopefully I’ll be home tonight, otherwise I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” she grumbled.

“I love you,” he said uncertainly.

Veronica couldn’t fight the smile that crept onto her face at his words, “I love you too,” she whispered back.

She stretched her arms out to Spencer’s side of the bed as she heard the front door click shut. The pillow and mattress were already cool from the absence of his body, Veronica let her heavy eyes fall shut and drifted off to sleep again.

She didn’t wake up again until hours later, when the sunlight crept through the gaps in the curtains and shone onto her face. Veronica unwilling pried her eyes open for the second time that day and fumbled for her phone on the bedside table to see if Spencer had texted her.

He hadn’t. Veronica’s heart sunk and her chest, he always texted her when he arrived at work. The only thing the glaring, bright screen of her phone informed her was that it was 11.57am, she had significantly overslept.

She quickly attributed it to the 17-hour spinal-cord tumour resection she had worked on yesterday and pulling the charger out of her phone she rolled over. Unlocking her phone, she sent a quick text to Spencer, reminding him that he needed to keep her updated when he was on a case or she’d assume he was dead.

But when she clicked ‘delivered’, there was a buzz from Spencer’s bedside table and Veronica strained her neck only to see that his phone was still there. She frowned, Spencer wasn’t a fan of his phone, but he never went to work without it, could he really have been so flustered from their spat that he’d forgotten it?

Whatever the reason, Veronica groaned, she wouldn’t relax all day without his periodic updates telling her that he was still alive, and she doubted he would trek all the way back to her apartment to get it.

She crawled out of bed and searched around for the first clothes she could find; a pair of dark running shorts, and her red ‘Harvard Med’ sweatshirt. Flinging them on, she quickly sprayed herself with deodorant and grabbed her bag, keys, and Spencer’s phone before dashing out the door.

Veronica cursed Spencer as she thudded down the stairs of her apartment building, because of course, the lift was still broken. Dr. Spencer Reid was supposed to have an eidetic memory, and he forgets his phone? Idiot.

A wave of heat hit her as she stepped outside, rummaging around her bag for a pair of sunglasses to shield her eyes as she made her way over to her car. Veronica contemplated how to get the phone to Spencer as she drove, she obviously couldn’t call him to let him know she had it, and she didn’t have the extension for his desk phone.

She could hand it into someone at reception and ask them to take it up or ask them to call him down. But then she would have to talk to him again and Veronica wasn’t sure if she wanted to do that.

She knew it wasn’t his fault, she knew that he couldn’t control when serial killers decided to act out, she knew that he was out there saving lives.

But it was still frustrating they couldn’t go places like normal couples, if there wasn’t a serial killer terrorising some small town then she was being pulled in on an emergency surgery. If she were honest with herself, she didn’t know how much longer their relationship could go on like this.

At least they were in the same state this time, and they would hopefully get to sleep in the same bed whilst he worked on this case, she thought optimistically to herself as she parked her car on a side street near the FBI building.

Veronica was still debating whether to leave Spencer’s phone with the receptionist or have them call him down as she strolled across the street. But that decision was quickly made for her when she saw Spencer leaving the building, accompanied by a tall, bald man with dark skin and a short blonde woman, wearing an eccentric, neon dress.

They were laughing amongst themselves; Spencer ran a hand through his messy hair as he chuckled at something Veronica was too far away to hear. He looked so happy. She was about to turn around and sneak back to her car when Spencer clocked her, they made eye-contact and he stopped in his tracks.

His friends stopped to and after noticing that Spencer was staring at something, turned to look at her too. The man nudged him, but Spencer stood frozen his tracks. Veronica huffed, if he weren’t going to come to her, she would have to go to him.

“Spencer,” she said, as she approached them briskly.

“Veronica! We’re just going to grab lunch for the team, I…I was going to text you, but I-”

“Left your phone at my apartment,” she finished for him, holding out his phone, which he took gingerly, “hi! I’m Veronica,” she said brightly, turning to face the man and woman who were staring at her, dumbfounded.

“H-hi, I’m Penelope Garcia,” the woman finally spoke.

“Derek Morgan,” the man added, with a small wave.

They both lingered hesitantly a few steps away from Veronica and Spencer, evidently sensing the tension between them. Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with her, he stared down at his feet, but Veronica stood her ground firmly.

“I’m literally standing right in front of them Spencer, are you still going to try and keep me a secret?” she seethed.

“I-I didn’t want it to happen like this,” he stammered.

“Right. You didn’t want it to happen, at all,” she said, turning on her heel to leave but Spencer lurched forward and grabbed her wrist, pulling her close into him.

“V, please don’t be like that – I wasn’t expecting you to show up at my job like this, I just needed a minute to process-”

“Process what? Your girlfriend doing you a favour? You’ve had a minute, and you clearly don’t want your friends to know me so just forget it Spencer,” she snapped, pulling her arm free from his grip.

“Veronica, please. I will introduce you properly later, just not right now,” he whispered, throwing an anxious glance back at Derek and Garcia.

Veronica rolled her eyes, they weren’t even in earshot anymore and he was still whispering so they wouldn’t overhear.

“Why not right now? You aren’t tracking down an unsub right at this moment, you’re going to get lunch – is a sandwich really more important to you than me?”

“That isn’t what I said!”

“You didn’t have to say anything, Spence,” she smiled sadly, “I don’t understand why you don’t want the people closest to you to know that you’ve had a girlfriend for the past three years. I mean we basically live together, it’s a serious relationship, they should at least know I exist.”

“It’s more complicated than that-”

“No, it isn’t!” she cried, her voice louder and shriller than she intended, causing Derek and Garcia to step forward but Spencer waved them off, “are you embarrassed of me or something?” she asked, her eyes flickering between Spencer’s twisted expression and his friends.

“Of course not, don’t be stupid,” he snorted.

“I’m not being stupid,” she snapped, “but I can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn’t want them to know me. Not that you should have any reason to be embarrassed cos’ I’m a hot neurosurgeon, but maybe that’s not good enough for the sacred BAU,” she spat.

Garcia and Derek whispered amongst themselves as they gave the couple concerned looks.

“Veronica, please-”

“No, don’t,” she said firmly despite the tears burning in her eyes, “you’ve made it very clear where you stand. I have to go; I’m meeting April for lunch and then to get our hair done for this stupid gala. Text me to let me know you’re alive, otherwise don’t contact me,” Veronica turned to leave but Spencer gripped her arm again.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Veronica shook her head, “no, Spencer you could literally stab me through the heart, and I wouldn’t leave you. That’s the problem, I think I love you more than you love me – I just need some space.”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to Morgan and Garcia, y-you can join us all for lunch,” he said desperately, trying to tug her towards them but Veronica pulled her arm away again.

“Too late Spence,” she sighed, “I meant what I said, still let me know you’re okay every few hours or I’ll worry. But please just leave me alone till you decide if you really want to be in this relationship.”

“Of course, I do Veronica! I lov-”

“Bye Spencer,” she said, kissing him softly on the cheek, “be safe.”

Veronica turned and dashed away from him, desperate not to let him see the tears threatening to spill over.

“Love you…” Spencer finished as he watched her disappear around a corner.

He was frozen for several moments as he stared longingly after her, but she would be in her car and long gone now. He tightened his grip on the phone she had handed him just moments before, the screen lit up and showed a text she must’ve sent before realizing he didn’t have his phone. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and turned on his heel to head back inside, but Derek was quick to grab his arm and pull him back.

“Hey, hey, hey, and just where do you think you’re going?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Inside,” Spencer snapped, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Derek gave him a pointed look, “I don’t think so kid, I’m gonna tell you what’s gonna happen – we’re gonna get in the car and go pick up lunch for everyone, it’ll take about 20 minutes, tops. That’s how long you have to explain whoever that was and why you’ve been acting so weird this morning, sound good?”

Spencer wrestled his arm out of Derek’ grip, “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said sharply.

“Well see yeah you do pretty boy, cos’ that’s the second time you’ve snapped at me in under a minute so somethings obviously going on and I’m willing to bet it’s got something to do with Miss Harvard Med, who’s apartment you were in this morning,” he said with a knowing look, “now come on, cars this way,” he pointed to the left on the street and began to saunter off.

Spencer gave Garcia a desperate look, “Penelope, have my back here, I-”

She raised a hand up to silence him, “it doesn’t take a profiler to figure out that you’ve been acting weird all morning,” she shifted closer to him and took his large hand in hers, “I know you like to keep things to yourself Spencer, but you and I also both know that you keeping secrets doesn’t always end well, we aren’t asking you to give us every detail we just want to know what’s going on.”

Spencer huffed but didn’t disagree with her, he even let her tug his arm and lead him down the street after Derek, who was already waiting for them at the car.

“About time,” he said, lifting himself from his position leaning against the dark SVU to unlock it.

He climbed in the front seat and Garcia moved round to get in the passenger’s side, leaving Spencer to stand for a few seconds outside the car. He debated running back to the office for a few seconds, but Derek would definitely run after him, and he was a lot faster. Deciding he didn’t want to be tackled to the ground today, he grumbled and crawled into the back seat, slamming the door behind him.

“You gonna tell us why you’ve got such an attitude today now, kid?” Derek said as he turned the keys in the ignition and pulled away from the kerb.

“And who that girl was?” Garcia added.

“That was Veronica,” he shrugged, twirling the end of his tie in his hands.

“Yeah, she told us that much,” Derek sighed, “we mean who is she?”

“She’s a neurosurgeon at Stafford Grace Mercy West hospital,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“A neurosurgeon!” Garcia gasped, clapping her hands together, “our Doctor Reid found himself a doctor of his own,” she giggled.

“What? No! I just said she was a doctor; I didn’t say there was anything-”

Derek had his eyes focused on the road, but Spencer could picture the look on his face as he spoke, “I didn’t think neurosurgeons usually ran a drop-in clinic from their apartments, but y’know I’m not the one with an IQ of 187, so maybe I’m wrong.”

He gave Garcia a look and her face dropped.

Spencer swore under his breath and folded his arms tightly across his chest. He shifted uncomfortably in the back seat as Derek pulled up to the drive-thru and gave a shrug and a mumble when he asked him what he wanted to eat.

“Thank you very much ma’am,” Derek flirted with the woman in the window as she handed the paper bag of food through to him, he gave it to Garcia as he drove away, allowing her to pick through everyone’s fries.

“Y’know kid, we’ll be back at the office in 10 minutes or so and you can either tell me what’s going on now or back there, in front of everyone else.”

“It’s none of your business!” Spencer spluttered.

“You’ve not been able to focus at work all morning, every time someone has asked a question you’ve been tugging on your tie instead of giving us some long-winded statistic, then some girl we’ve never seen before shows up and you both start fighting-”

“We weren’t fighting,” Spencer grumbled, running a hand through his hair, “just a difference of opinion, that’s all.”

“A difference of opinion made her storm off like that, huh?” Derek mused.

Spencer balled his fists, why couldn’t Derek just leave it alone?

“We just want to make sure there’s nothing bad going on, Spencer,” Garcia said kindly, a handful of Emily’s fries in her mouth.

“Why do you think anything bad would be going on?”

Derek and Garcia exchanged looks.

“Hey! Why are you looking each other like that?”

Garcia twisted in her seat to face him, “we just noticed that recently you’ve not been coming out with us, you’re always rushing home after work, some days you’re really happy – and I love those days! – but other times you’re…irritable-”

“Like today,” Derek interjected.

“Right, and now this girl who just happens to be a doctor with a prescription pad shows up, and if she’s not your girlfriend then-”

“You think she’s my drug dealer?” Spencer snorted.

“Is she?” Garcia asked, alarmed.

“No!” he snapped, “fine! She’s my girlfriend, is that what you wanted to hear? Congratulations guys, you’ve finally gotten me to admit the one thing I didn’t want to tell you, whilst simultaneously accusing me of taking drugs again, and Veronica of abusing her medical license to sell drugs!”

“Hey! Kid I get if you’re upset but don’t raise your voice at Garcia like that, we suspected you were using again before Veronica ever showed up, her being a doctor just fit into the puzzle,” Derek said firmly, “I don’t understand why you didn’t just tell us she was your girlfriend and we could’ve moved on, you being so secretive about her is what made us think that there was something bad going on.”

“Well, there isn’t, except I have a pissed off girlfriend and a serial killer slashing women’s throats open, I don’t have time to pander to your feelings as well,” Spencer grumbled as Derek pulled up near the office again, he flung the door open and high-tailed out of the car, leaving Derek and Garcia in their seats gaping at each other.

He had dashed back inside the building; he couldn’t tell how close Derek and Garcia were behind him, but he was grateful they were far away enough to not catch the lift with him.

“Hey Reid,” Emily greeted him as he sulked back into the office, “where are Garcia and Morgan?”

Spencer shrugged, “they’re coming up now, they’ve got everyone’s food,” he mumbled, shuffling away to his desk.

“Okay…” Emily said, and shot JJ a concerned look.

Spencer sat down and stared blankly at the map in front of him. He was supposed to be working on the geographical profile, but his eyes blurred as he stared at the contour lines and he couldn’t make them refocus.

Derek and Garcia burst through the door minutes later.

“Lunchtime,” he called, as Garcia held the bag up above her head.

“Finally, I’m starving,” Emily groaned, making her way over to Derek to collect her lunch, “what’s going on with the good doctor?” she whispered under her breath, motioning with her head over to Spencer, slumped in his chair.

Derek hesitated, “we’re not entirely sure yet, I’ll let you know when I know,” he whispered back.

Emily nodded apprehensively and took her food from Garcia.

“I promise I didn’t eat all your fries,” she chirped, and Emily rolled her eyes.

The other team members came to collect their orders from Morgan and Garcia, all of them shooting concerned looks at Spencer. He dug his nails into his palms, the sharp twinge distracted him from everyone’s stares.

Spencer didn’t show any intention of coming to get his lunch, so Derek took the bag from Garcia and strolled over to Spencer’s desk. He dropped the bag down on top of the map.

“You wouldn’t answer me when I asked what you wanted, so I picked for you.”

Spencer didn’t look up, “hmm not hungry,” he said, twirling a pen in his hand.

“C’mon kid, I’m sorry Garcia and I implied that you were using again, but we’ve noticed you acting weird for a while and we thought that was the most plausible-”

“So, you thought it was more likely I was shooting myself up with dilaudid than it was that I had a girlfriend? Cos’ who would want to date me right?” he snorted.

“Spencer, you know that’s not what I meant, but you never gave any indication you were seeing someone, I thought if you were then you’d have mentioned it to at least one of us.”

Spencer curled his lip.

“So…why didn’t you mention anything?”

“Because…because we spend so much time together, and you all know so much about me I just wanted to have something that was my own,” he said hastily.

“Okay, I can understand that, so I won’t ask too many questions – I just want to know: does she treat you good? Does she make you happy?”

“Yes,” Spencer murmured.

“That all I’m gonna get, pretty boy?”

Spencer nodded stiffly, “for now.”

“Am I gonna get to meet her?” Derek asked softly.

“You did meet her.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “I mean properly, I would like to introduce myself as the guy who saves your ass on the daily,” he said, nudging Spencer’s shoulder gently.

He tried to fight the smile creeping onto his face, but failed, “you’re getting nowhere near her if you’re gonna lie like that.”

Derek chuckled and held up his hands, “okay, okay I get it – pretty boy’s gotta protect his reputation in front of his girl.”

Spencer gave him a tight-lipped smile and nodded, he continued to twirl the pen in his hand, “something like that.”

“Guys, I think we might have something,” Hotch said, stepping out of the conference room with Garcia and Rossi close behind him.

JJ and Emily nodded, standing up from their desks to join him. Derek moved to follow but Spencer grabbed his arm quickly.

“You won’t say anything will you?” he asked nervously, “not until I’ve had a chance to talk to Veronica, at least. She’s got this fundraising gala for work tonight, and I don’t know when we’ll get home. We’re in the same state and we probably won’t get a chance to talk till this case is over,” he said miserably.

Derek nodded, “your secrets safe with me, pretty boy,” he said, clapping Spencer on the bag before sauntered away and up the stairs.

Spencer smiled, grabbed his lunch from his desk and followed.

***

Veronica drummed her nails against the table as they waited for their waitress to return with their drinks.

“You know I was going to say that it’s a bit early for the wine you just ordered but now I think you should’ve gotten a large,” April commented, watching how Veronica fidgeted in her seat.

“Yeah, well I figured I should start preparing early for this stupid gala,” she mumbled.

“Hey! Jackson has worked really hard organizing this, I think it’ll be fun!”

Veronica rolled her eyes, “you think going to the DMV is fun, so you don’t get much of an opinion here, Kepner.”

“It is fun!” April began but Veronica gave her a pointed look, “right...not about me. Veronica, what’s going on? You’ve been acting weird since you got to my apartment, and I know you’re not looking forward to the gala, but I don’t think that’s what’s on your mind.”

Veronica shrugged, “it’s Spencer, he-”

She was interrupted as their waitress returned, “okay! Diet coke for you, and a pinot griot for you,” she said, placing their respective drinks down in front of them, “are you ladies ready to order?” she chirped, Veronica wanted to roll her eyes at the perkiness radiating off of her, but reminded herself that she was just doing her job.

“I’ll have the chicken Caesar salad please!” April responded, matching the waitresses bright and bubbly demeanour.

Veronica tapped her foot against the floor, “I’ll have the double bacon cheeseburger with Cajun fries please,” she said, giving her best attempt at a smile.

“Excellent!” she said, taking their menus, “I’ll get that out to you soon as its ready.”

“Thank you!” April said, her voice sweet and sing-song-like, until the waitress had disappeared out of sight and she turned to glare at Veronica, “double bacon cheeseburger! You have a tight dress to wear tonight, do you want to be bloated?”

“April, I really don’t care,” Veronica said flatly, taking a large swig of wine from her glass.

April gaped at her lie a fish but quickly composed herself, “what did Spencer do that’s so bad he’s got you comfort eating and drinking?”

Veronica paused to take another gulp of wine before she answered, “it’s not what he did it’s what he didn’t do. First of all, he was supposed to come to the gala with me tonight and keep me from punching one of those rich, old, pervs in the throat but then he got called into work on a case – which sucks, and I’m upset he can’t come but like I can live with that, we get pulled into emergency surgeries all the time, so I get it,” she ranted, taking another sip of wine.

“But?” April prompted.

“But everything comes back to the same issues with us, he refuses to even tell his team about me. And these guys, April, they’re like his family! But they have no clue I even exist; he always says it’s because he’s a private person and he shares so much with them that he just wants to having something to himself…but more and more it just feels like he’s embarrassed by me.”

“Oh, Veronica,” April gushed, her voice dripping with sympathy, “I’m sure that’s not true, but it’s so easy to get in your own head about things like this, when Jackson and I were sneaking around I felt the same way.”

“Yeah, and then you got married,” she snorted.

“And then we got divorced.”

“Is this your way of telling me I should break up with Spencer?” Veronica asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No!” April said quickly, “I’m just saying that Jackson and I didn’t work out because we had too many fundamental differences, but you and Spencer aren’t like that, your problems are coming from external factors and they’re far easier to fix than internal ones. If you gave him an ultimatum, you introduce me to your team or it’s over, then I really doubt that he’s going to let you walk away.”

Veronica shook her head, “he’d know that’s an empty threat, I already told him I would never leave him.”

“When did you tell him that?” April demanded.

“About 20 minutes before I showed up at your place, he left his phone at my apartment, so I went to drop it off at his work but when I got there, he was coming out with two of his friends – I was right in front of them and he still didn’t want to introduce me. And I told him that I couldn’t break up with him, but I thought I love him more than he loves me.”

“And what did he say?”

“Well, then he said I should come to lunch with them, but it was so obvious that he didn’t really want that, he was just trying to cover his own ass,” she shrugged, “so I told him it was too late and then I left.”

“Why didn’t you go with them? Then you would have met them, and this would all be resolved,” April gaped at her.

“Because he didn’t want me there! Besides they don’t even get a proper lunch break, they were just going to pick up food for everyone else. I don’t want to meet my boyfriend’s closest friends in the 20-minute drive to Burger King and back,” she huffed, sitting back lazily, and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Have you tried explaining to him how he’s making you feel by doing this?”

“Only every time we fight, I say I’m sick of him not taking me to parties with his work friends cos’ he doesn’t want them to know about me, but the rest of the team has their partners there, so he just stopped going out with them all together. He would rather not see his friends outside of work than take me with him, you can’t try and tell me that’s not weird.”

April shook her head hesitantly, “no, I agree that its strange, but I’ve also met Spencer and I’ve seen first-hand how much he adores you, whatever is going on, I don’t think it’s because he’s ashamed of you.”

Veronica didn’t answer her. She didn’t have the energy to argue back, if there was another reason as to why Spencer was hiding her, she couldn’t figure it out.

Thankfully, the waitress returned with their food and interrupted April, who Veronica could tell was about to launch into some motivational speech. She took a huge bite from her burger, savouring the salty bacon and tangy tomato relish that made her feel instantaneously better.

April gave her a disapproving look as she delicately tucked into her salad, “I was going to say you need to eat quickly or we’ll miss our appointment, but I see you’re doing that all on your own.”

“We’ve still got another hour, chill out, Kepner.”

April rolled her eyes, “you’ve forgotten the plan, already haven’t you?”

Veronica froze, with a handful of spicy, Cajun fries in her mouth, “plan?” she questioned, her voice muffled.

“I told you yesterday, Veronica!” she whined, “we were going to get our hair done at the salon but now she’s going to come to Cristina’s apartment since its way closer to where the gala will be – so we need to drive back to your apartment to pick up your dress and makeup and then we’ll head to Cristina’s to get ready there.”

“Don’t we need to pick up your stuff too then?”

“No, because I was organized and put mine in the back of the car,” she said with a glare, “you did pick up your dress, right?”

“Yes, have some faith in me,” Veronica grumbled.

“You didn’t remember the plan! You could’ve just as easily forgotten to get a dress.”

“I’m pretty sure you never told me about the plan,” Veronica teased.

“I did!”

“When?”

“Yesterday, after you came out of surgery.”

“You told me after my 17-hour spinal cord tumour resection, and actually expected me to remember a word that you’d said?”

“Shut up and eat your burger,” April huffed, and Veronica chuckled as she took another large bite.

***

Spencer shifted uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat of the SVU, he was irritated. They had been chasing a lead since lunch and it hadn’t panned out, he and Derek were on their way back to the office now.

He turned down the radio; the music was so loud he couldn’t hear himself think. It was getting dark outside now, and the streetlights reflected off of the window he stared out of, the glare hurt his eyes. Spencer re-adjusted his bulletproof vest; it was tight and digging into his chest. He flicked on the AC; the car was too hot.

“Hey kid, you wanna sit still for 5 minutes?” Derek mused.

“I’m just frustrated, I really thought we got him,” he grunted.

“I know me too, but everyone’s doing everything they can to catch him-”

“He’s escalating! He’s raped, killed and dumped two women since lunch, in broad daylight – everyone might be doing everything he can but that isn’t enough.”

“I know this isn’t an easy case, but we’ve dealt with things like this before and you never act out like this, so what’s going on? Is this about your fight with Veronica?”

“No! I mean…” Spencer dragged his hand through his hair, “it’s not about the fight but it is about her, all the women he’s killed so far sort of look like her – same hair and eye colour, same height and body type….”

“Spencer, we know he’s taking these women as surrogates for a Linda Johnson, it doesn’t have anything to do with her-”

“But he could take her, she’s with her friends right now, getting ready for this work thing. The second victim was at a party with friends when he took her, and she looked exactly like Veronica – they could’ve been sisters.”

Derek pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“W-what are you doing?” Spencer stuttered, “Hotch said he wants everyone back ASAP.”

“Hotch can wait,” Derek said sharply, “now listen to me kid, Veronica is gonna be just fine, she’s gonna be at some fancy, little party full of other doctors. We profiled that the unsub wouldn’t be able to blend into an environment like that, that’s why all his other victims were taken in nightclubs or back alleys. She will be fine, okay?”

Spencer didn’t answer.

“Kid, I need you to answer me so I know you’re still in there,” Derek said, nudging him, “I can see that brain of yours going into overdrive.”

“We profiled that the unsub wouldn’t be able to fit in with educated or upper-class groups because of poor social skills and lack of education…” Spencer began slowly.

“Right,” Derek agreed with him.

“And that’s why we went to Tommy Jones’ house, because he fits the profile, but his alibi checks out….”

“What are you getting at here, Reid?”

“It doesn’t make sense, all the women were taken from dive bars or dangerous areas, but they were all also upper class, well educated women – they wouldn’t just go off with someone who they thought was a threat….”

Derek nodded slowly, “…and we know he used some kind of a ruse to get them in his van because all of the victims had minimal defensive wounds.”

“Right, so our unsub would have to be someone these women would trust, and the psychology of implicit bias show that we are consciously and unconsciously more trusting of members of our perceived in-group,” Spencer added, “so what if our unsub is someone connected to Linda Johnson but from the same rich, ivy-league educated background as her.”

“Okay, but we already vetted all of Linda’s male family members, friends and boyfriends of friends – they’re all clear. And she’s still with her high-school boyfriend who’s been in California all week….”

“Call Hotch, Linda should still be at the office, maybe he can find a male from the same financial and educational background as Lisa who has since lost social status and lost touch with her, our unsub could be someone who has lost access to that kind of lifestyle and blames Lisa for it.”

“Okay kid, whatever you say,” Derek said, he grabbed his phone and dialled Hotch’s number, “hey Hotch, Reid thinks the unsub is someone who came from the same background as Lisa but has lost some kind of status and blames her for it, can you ask if anyone fits that description?”

Spencer looked on in anticipation, his heart hammering in his chest. Derek switched his phone to speaker-mode as Hotch came back.

“Morgan, I think we got something. Linda says her high school had a tutoring program, a boy called Phillip Davis used to help her with biology and chemistry, she always suspected he had a bit of a crush on her, but she never returned the feelings. He left the school when his father went bankrupt and he lost all their money, they haven’t spoken in years that’s why she never mentioned him.”

“Linda posted on Facebook that she’d been accepted for a master’s degree in biochemical sciences the day before the killings started, that could be the trigger if Davis feels he helped her enough with her studies to get into a master’s program, but she never showed any appreciation,” Spencer said nodding.

“And if he went to the same private school as Linda, he would have the social skills to fit in with other upper-class women,” Derek said.

“Good work Reid,” Hotch said, “you two are closet to his home address, Garcia’s already sent it to your phones, I’ll meet you there – JJ and Prentiss will check out his work address.”

“You got it Hotch,” Derek said before he hung up the phone and drove off again, “we’re gonna get him kid, don’t you worry.”

Spencer nodded, “I know, just I’ll relax better when he’s in handcuffs.”

“He will be soon.”

Spencer didn’t say anything as Derek raced along side-streets. He had flicked the sirens on as they overtook other cars, and they blared in Spencer’s ears. He switched them off when they pulled up outside Philip Davis’ house, he stared up at the dimly lit house for a second before he followed Derek in exiting the car.

His ears were ringing.

Derek was on the phone again, “yeah Hotch, we just got here.”

Spencer’s heart hammered against his ribcage. He yanked down his bulletproof vest again; it was really uncomfortable.

“Hotch says they’re five minutes out, he wants us to wait until they get here to go in,” Derek said and leant against the exterior of the car.

Spencer nodded but his heart seized in his chest; he didn’t think he could wait five whole minutes outside. He tapped his foot against the uneven concrete and peered up at the house.

A light flicked on in one of the upstairs windows.

“Morgan!” he hissed, “do you see that? He’s definitely in there.”

“I know kid, but Hotch says Lina told him that this guy is really aggressive, and Garcia confirmed he owns a whole arsenal of firearms. He just wants us to have backup before we go in, he’s bringing S.W.A.T as well.”

Spencer huffed, “why does it feel like we’re always just standing around waiting for S.W.A.T to show up?”

“Tell me about it, pretty boy,” Derek grinned, “they wouldn’t know how to be on time if-”

He was interrupted by a piercing scream that came from inside the house, Derek and Spencer instinctively grabbed their guns.

“That was definitely a woman,” Derek whispered, “but he didn’t bring any of the other victims back to his house, why her?”

“We’ve amped up the police presence all over the city and set up roadblocks, maybe he was starting to feel cornered, and didn’t want to be caught in the act – we can’t wait for backup any longer, we have to go in.”

“Yeah, I know,” Derek said, he grabbed his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text to Hotch, “okay kid, lets go,” he nodded at Spencer and began to advance towards the house, his gun held out defensively in front of him.

Spencer took a deep breath and followed him. He really wanted to text Veronica and let her know that he was okay for now, but that he and Derek were about to burst into an unsub’s house. Who apparently happened to a violent, gun fanatic.

Derek had kicked the door down, “Kevin Davis, FBI! Come down with your hands up.”

There was no response.

Derek silently motioned to the stairs and Spencer nodded, he followed as they crept across the hall. Derek looked back at him for approval before he began to slowly climb the stairs, Spencer readjusted his vest again before he followed.

The stairs creaked slightly under their feet; the house was a mess and they carefully stepped over clutter as they made their ascent. Derek had made it safely to the top landing when the first gunshots were fired.

He shouted something but Spencer couldn’t hear him, his voice overshadowed by the pulsing of blood in his ears. He was still stood on the top step; he didn’t have the clear view that Derek had of Kevin Davis emerging from a room with an assault rifle in hand.

Spencer’s ears were stilling ringing from the first round of warning shots.

“Kevin Davis, FBI – put the gun down,” Derek ordered, his own gun firmly fixed at the unsub, who only gave a twisted grin in response.

It all happened so fast.

The unsub was in the doorway to a bedroom when a young, disheveled woman burst out of it and sprinted past him and Derek to reach the staircase.

She was screaming the entire time.

And then the unsub was roaring curses after her.

She reached the top of the stairs where Spencer stood, he reached out a hand to help her, but she recoiled away from his touch and shoved him out of his way.

Derek was yelling something.

But Spencer couldn’t make it out because he was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs, his body ached, and he couldn’t discern the screams from the woman from the sirens in the distance. Or Derek’s words from the unsub’s.

His ears were ringing, and his abdomen hurt.

The vest was digging into his chest again and he gasped for air; why couldn’t he breathe?

He grabbed his gun, which was only a few feet away from him and crawled onto his knees. Every shaky intake of breath left him with a sharp, stabbing pain in his side.

He tugged at his vest again.

Spencer gripped onto the banister of the staircase and used it as a support as he began to pull himself up. He hadn’t even fully unbent his knees when there was another loud gunshot, it echoed around the hall.

After that, everything started spinning and the ground swayed under Spencer’s feet.

There were more muffled yells from upstairs, and the wailing sirens were getting louder.

“The pitch of the sirens…its getting higher,” Spencer mumbled, to no one in particular, “it means they’re getting closer…the Doppler effect…” Spencer gasped for a breath and collapsed to his knees.

He didn’t wince as his kneecaps smashed against the hard tiles.

He couldn’t breathe, the stupid vest.

He was vaguely aware of black shapes moving around him as he lifted his hands to readjust his vest, when he pulled his hand away his fingers were slick with blood.

One of the black shapes was dragging him, away from the stairs.

Kevin Davis was in handcuffs, screaming as he was hauled past Spencer.

“Reid!” a voice called.

Spencer looked around, dazed. He couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

Someone was taking his vest off, he wanted to thank them, but the words wouldn’t come out.

He looked down at himself, and saw his pale, blue shirt soaked in blood.

Blood.

Spencer didn’t mind it in crime scenes, he had to stare at mutilated corpses all day and didn’t mind their blood.

This was his blood.

Something acidic was rising in his throat.

And something was lifting him, heaving him outside. When the cool air hit Spencer, he felt it more than he had felt the bullet when it tore through his chest.

Derek was hovering over Spencer; he waved a hand in front of his face, but his eyes were still glassy and unfocused. He was laid against the rough concrete; it was uncomfortable, and his spine dug into the hard surface. He could feel that dull ache in his side again.

“Adrenaline…” he choked.

“What are you talking about, kid?” Derek asked frantically.

“Adrenaline, when the sympathetic nervous system is activated adrenaline kicks in and stops you from feeling pain,” he gasped.

“Reid, save your energy okay – now isn’t the time for you to give me a fun science fact,” Derek said with a forced chuckle and sad smile.

Spencer tried to shake his head, but he only succeeded in scrapping his scalp against the tarmac, “I’m telling you…because the adrenaline in my body is wearing off…it hurts,” he whimpered, screwing his eyes shut.

“Spencer! Spencer! You need to stay awake,” Derek was begging, “the ambulance will be here soon, I know it hurts but you gotta stay awake for a bit longer.”

Spencer managed to muster up the strength to speak, “Derek?”

“I’m right here, kid. We got him, we got the unsub – Hotch is taking him down to the station right now, and then he’s gonna meet us at the hospital with Emily, and JJ, and Rossi…so you gotta hold on, okay?”

“Okay…” Spencer whispered; he was on his back staring up at the sky.

The stars especially bright tonight.

“Come on kid stay with me,” Derek pleaded as he held pressure on Spencer’s chest, “the ambulance is almost here, and we’re so close to the hospital - just hold on a bit longer.”

Stars…that meant something to him, his brain was too foggy to recall what.

“Did you know, that astronomers estimate that in our Milky Way galaxy alone, there are about 300 billion stars,” Spencer rambled as they walked along the street.

It was dark, and stars sparkled like diamonds against the deep, velvety sky.

“I didn’t know that, but I suppose you are the genius here for a reason,” Veronica grinned, his hand was wrapped around hers as she tugged him along.

Spencer wasn’t looking at the stars anymore, he stopped in his tracks which caused Veronica to stop two steps ahead of him. He gently pulled her close to him, so she was pressed against his chest .

“Veronica, I…I think that I’m in lo-”

Veronica.

Spencer wriggled his arm as he tried to guide his hand to his pocket.

“Hey, hey, hey don’t move,” Derek said, panicked, “you bleed more when you move!”

Spencer fumbled around his pocket for his phone, he eventually managed to pull it out and held it out for Derek to take. The screen was decorated with droplets of blood which had transferred from his hand.

Spencer couldn’t look at it; blood, its just blood, he told himself.

“Veronica...” he gasped through short, jagged breaths, “call Veronica...” he said, his hand trembling from the strain of hold his arm up.

Derek took the phone from him and shoved it in his own pocket, “okay, okay, when we’re in the ambulance I’ll call her,” he said, nodding.

Veronica needed to know. He needed to make her understand why he had never introduced her to his team, she needed to know it wasn’t her fault. She needed to know that he wasn’t embarrassed of her, that he loved her more than anything, that he did want to be in this relationship.

Spencer gave a weak smile, “tell her...tell her I...” Spencer’s eyes fluttered shut, and his face, previously screwed up with pain, went slack.

Derek cursed under his breath as he put more pressure on the wound, he was already losing too much blood. The faint wails of sirens were growing louder until an ambulance pulled up next to Derek and a pair of paramedics dashed round to help him.

“He just lost consciousness, I’ve been trying to stop the bleeding...” Derek said, he moved back to allow the paramedics in to help Spencer.

They rolled him onto a stretcher and lifted him up into the ambulance, one of them ran back round to climb in the divers side whilst the other got in the back with Derek. He kept pressure on Spencer’s gunshot wound as the paramedic inserted an IV into his arm, supplying him with more blood.

“Here, let me take over. You sit back,” the paramedic said, motioning to Derek’s blood-soaked hands.

He nodded and dragged his heavy arms away from Spencer’s body. He stared at his face, peaceful from the lack of pain, and pale from the lack of blood.

That’s when he remembered Spencer’s words, what could be his last words, call Veronica. Tell her I...

Derek pulled Spencer’s phone from his pocket and unlocked it, he scrolled through his contacts app till he reached the ‘V’ section.

His finger hovered over Veronica’s name before he finally clicked on it. It rung and rung and rung. Derek’s heart seized in his chest - what if she didn’t answer?

Just as Derek thought it was going to go to voicemail, he heard a voice on the other side of the phone. There was loud music and chatter, but Derek could just make out Veronica’s voice.

“Spencer, I told you-”

“Hi, Veronica,” his voice cracked, “it’s Derek Morgan, we met earlier today...”

read part 2 here

if you enjoyed this please consider leaving a comment as it really keeps me motivated, and reblogging! i really appreciate likes but on the tumblr reblogs are the only way to get my work out there x

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #derek morgan #angst #hurt and comfort #fluff #spencer reid imagine hurt #spencer reid imagine angst #spencer reid headcanons #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds imagines

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nothingtoseehd · 3 years

Text

eah characters as cavetown songs

this was inspired by @/applewhiteapologist's eah characters as taylor swift songs, sooooooo yeah

some characters might not be here because: 1. it's hard to find songs for them (as of right now) 2. i forgot them/i'll do them if i have more time

apple white - devil town v2/green

-i chose devil town v2 because it seemed the most, uh, apple out of all the devil town versions? devil town v1 seems edgy-ish, and devil town v3 seems lower and calmer, i think???? maybe i just chose this because it has those light, floaty chords, i'm not sure, i'm not smart or anything -also i honestly felt like this was hard -i chose devil town because it could represent the future she pictured in her mind when raven didn't sign the book -i don't really know what to explain green, but like, ashlynn and apple in true hearts day??? that's the best way i could explain this song -lyric analysis time: --"i still get a little scared of something new, but I feel a little safer when i'm with you, falling doesn't feel so bad, when I know you've fallen this way too" ---apple is "a little scared of something new" because she's in for an unpredictable future without the storybook of legends ---for the falling part, it's like she's not so sad about being led astray when she's with her friends maybeeeeeee -lyrics for green because i can't explain it but it's just THERE: --"you looked so good in green i hope you’re well and you look so good with him and i’m proud of you still take care of my shirt warm and red i hope you think of me still as your friend i hope you love yourself your body and heart i hope you feel happy that’s all i want that's all i want"

raven queen - devil town v1 (dang it there's no purple text so have plain text)

-i just chose devil town v1 because i think it would work well with her guitar, i actually don't know how guitar works but i'm pretending to know how it works, don't tell anyone i don't know how they work -i think this song could represent her home life and whatnot because she's living with the evil queen -it's lyric analysis time!!: --"you said something dumb again, she's mad, at least that's what they say" (i just used orange so the lyrics wouldn't blend in as much) ---the something dumb thing could be like a 'nice deed' the evil queen doesn't like, and she's mad because of that --"we're all dead in devil town, that's fine, cause nothing's gonna scare us now" ---she's 'dead' after all the nagging and 'be eviL EMBRACE YOUR INNER EVIL' shit and it's now the normal, and it's not going to scare her since it's basically her life now -also slowed devil town can fit her too

madeline hatter - hug all ur friends/talk to me

-she's just so friendly?????? and supportive?????? and oh gosh i need a hug???????? -seriously though, they suit her because she feels so much like a huggy, supportive person and she's friends with everyone sooooooooooooo, hugs for everyone!! except you crystal!! and headmaster grimm!! not forgiving for the time you almost banished maddie!! -the lyrics because i can't explain these songs, it's just that maddie vibe, you know?: --"life’s too short to worry about things that we got wrong, so hug all your friends and let them know, you’re not letting go, i’m not letting go" (hug all ur friends) --"you don't have to be a prodigy to be unique you don't have to know what to say or what to think you don't have to be anybody you can never be that's alright, let it out, talk to me" (talk to me)

briar beauty - pigeon

-i had a very hard time with her but i think this kinda fits -it generates a sleepy vibe? (even though i didn't get this from the sleepyhead album *cough cough*) -okay, so the reason why i chose this for her is because of the chorus, which could kind of tie in with her destiny, with the 100 year coma -have the chorus for reference: --"didn’t give me time to say goodbye in the way that i wanted to, so honey, close your eyes and stay like you’re supposed to do, don’t know how i’m gonna live without, but i’ll stay strong for you"

ca cupid - sweet tooth/for you

-this is already self-explanatory if you listened to the song(s), buT IF YOU HAVEN'T YET, basically it's a song about an unhealthy crush and love and stuff -and you know who she has an unhealthy crush on???? that's right, it's blondie!! /hj (but seriously, in canon it's dexter but uH, i refuse to believe that, they're better off as friends) -lyric examples because like maddie, i can't really explain it but i know the vibe is THERE: --"a sweet tooth for you, i'm wide awake, the sugar went straight to my brain, feel like a kid, i double tap, my chest with my fist, i like you, say it back, say it back"

cerise hood - snail

-snail iS SUCH A GREAT SONG OMG -snail kinda represents her childhood and 'not wanting to be born like this' because of her parents technically breaking destiny (stupid storybook of legends) -lyrics from the song because i kinda don't really need to explain this song more: --"i was just born like this, wish that i could change it" --"i'm hanging out with the foxes and the hounds, and when i fit in i'll break back out"

daring charming - boys will be bugs/lemons (technically cavetown is just a feature but he's still there so yeah)

-it's just about the vibes -and also about the fact that the person in the songs have to uphold some sort of standard (the songs' standards were about masculinity) and i thought it could fit daring because he also has to uphold a standard (being the perfect charming prince) -also in lemons, daring's part is the one where cavetown sings it (if that wasn't obvious) -also ANOTHER LEMONS SIDE NOTE, i'd imagine rosabella singing brye's part, just because -lyrics time: --"don't mess with me, i'm a big boy now and i'm very scary i punch my walls, stay out at night, and i do karate don't message me 'cause i won't reply, i wanna make you cry ain't that how it's supposed to be? though it isn’t me boys will be bugs, right?" (boys will be bugs) --"so i'm gonna take it out on you too proud to show i'm hurting push it on you 'til you're burning" (lemons)

darling charming - 888/trying

-888 is a fun song, very groovy, has peppa pig plasters, 10/10 -main reason i chose 888, it kinda feels gay when you put it under a certain light?????????? -and snail could also fit with darling but i don't want to rob cerise -i was very stuck for a second song for darling because i felt obligated to give the charming siblings two songs because they're that top tier, but i think trying could be a good fit to some extent -could be like 'not great relationship with parents, struggle to fit with their standards ever since she found out she wanted to be a hero or something' -i still do think snail is a better fit for darling but i really really don't want to rob cerise because cerise is amazing -some lyrics: --"i'm workin' things out clouds lookin' strange papercut fingers dancing on the strings if i could see you right now i'd dance just for you when the nightlight goes out" (888) --"please let me know if you change your mind cause inside i'm falling And I need you to pull me out of this decline i realize how hard on you this must seem But trust me when i say it's far, far worse for me" (trying)

dexter charming - telescope/home

-telescope just feels like his vibe???? also because it kinda also have hopeless romantic-ness???? -also i headcanon him to be an astronomy nerd???? so that's fun???? that's my reasoning i guess???? (also, side-note i have just listened to astronomy by conan gray and it fits dexter) -ALSO HOME IS HERE BECAUSE DEXTER IS TRANS YOU CAN'T CHANGE MY MIND -also because it's also his vibe??????? -what time is it????? *clap clap* it's lyrics time!!: --"through the lens, it's dark, single-digit on the clock singing, "yessiree, i sure like-a you a lot" all i need is to get her she'll be happy if you let her" (telescope) --"turn off your porcelain face i can't really think right now and this place has too many colors, enough to drive all of us insane are you dead? sometimes i think i'm dead cause i can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head but i don't wanna fall asleep just yet" (home)

okay the process of this post was just me staring at the lyrics and listening to cavetown a lot, sometimes during online classes but shhhh don't tell anyone (and finding more great songs)

is this post going to flop?? very very likely. do i care? eh, not sure, this was just me trying to put on my big brain hat.

also i realized while reading this post, that i never actually analyzed the majority of the songs' lyrics in this post?? so i'm very sorry

#eah #ever after high #apple white #raven queen #briar beauty #madeline hatter #ca cupid #c.a. cupid #cerise hood #daring charming #darling charming #dexter charming #it took so long to do this omg #nothing strikes again with random rambles about music #my braincells are kinda rotting but they're still working SO WE'RE FINE #nothing strikes again with random stuff

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loveofafangirl · 3 years

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A Chance Encounter

[Steve Rogers Masterlist]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Background: Following the events of Endgame, Steve Rogers returned to the future and gives up the mantle of Captain America. Steve moves to a secluded area in the mountains of Upstate New York, near enough the Avengers facility to lend an ear to his friends, but far enough that he had peace, or what passed for peace for him these days. He spends most of his time outside trying to keep his mind active and away from the haunting memories of his past.

Synopsis: One day, while out for a run, Steve runs further than he realizes and makes the unexpected acquaintance of a local school teacher. (Part 1)

Word Count: <1,300

Author’s Note: This only my second attempt at Steve or Marvel. The first was “To Be Held”. That one was written in second person, this one is written in the third person. Since this is new to me, I am seeing what I like best. The reader in that story is the same as the original female character in this story. “To Be Held” is later chronologically.

Please let me know if you like it and/or if you want to be tagged in any future Steve work I try. No beta. I like to live dangerously.

The thinning leaves on the trees were not more than a mosaic blur of warm colors. His feet pounded against the soft earth as he raced through the forest, kicking up loose bits of dirt. He focused solely on what was up ahead. With every step, he tried to solidify the wall he was building up, not to keep the world out but to protect him from himself.

He had thought returning to the future would save him from the visions that had kept him up at night in the past. He was plagued by the future he knew was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it. They would win in the end, but so much would be lost along the way. The cost of it all was higher than he imagined. He had been willing to die; but, he didn't. They did. He convinced them to help, to try to save the world; and it cost them their lives. They knew the risk, and they followed all the same. Soldiers die, he would remind himself to no avail. However, as far as he was concerned, he let them die on his watch. He should have found another way.

Faster, and faster he ran, pushing further and harder when a smell or lingering image triggered a memory. Dodging low hanging branches and jumping fallen trees, the super-soldier continued weaving a path deeper into the forest and further away from the familiar terrain, hoping to find some relief.

The warm sunlight tickled her skin. She breathed deeply, soaking up the last bits of summer. It was an unseasonably warm day. One of the last warm days before the cool breath of fall would settle on the town, leaving a kiss of frost on the grass every morning. As much as she loved the sun, the promise of cozy sweaters and pumpkin spice was almost just as appealing.

A truck honked, pulling her attention. Quickly, she threw up her hand, waving to Mr. Simmons, the town’s postman, as she crossed the street to the quiet cafe. Ordering a large iced coffee and roasted vegetable panini, she decided it was too nice to spend her lunch period inside. There was an open bench in the small town park. As the weather grew colder, she would need to eat lunch inside, but while the days were warm, she would enjoy being outside.

Everything seemed brighter now. Of course, not everyone felt that way, but she did. There were clearly complications to work out with half the planet returning after half a decade away, but it was nice to see life again.

She had intended to move away—take a job in one of those big cities, work during the day, and have adventures in the evening. She had it planned out. Then, the world turned upside down. Her already small town became smaller. Their stable economy quickly fell. There simply weren’t enough people left to keep the lights on. She saw the despair on the faces of those around her; not only had they lost their loved ones, but their town was now in danger. Her adventure would have to wait; she was needed here. She knew the name of just about everyone around, and they knew hers. Family is forever, and they were hers.

Memories of the last five years and thoughts of unfulfilled adventures lingered in her view as she finished her lunch. It was the sound of the church bells ringing that pulled her back.

She hadn’t been keeping track of her time. She had let it slip away. Swiftly, she started gathering her things, rushing to clean up her area. She lived by the rule, "Always leave a place a little better than you found it". She told her students often that if everyone followed this simple principle, the world would be a brighter, cleaner place. Small actions of change were even more important than bold ones. You didn't need to be a superhero to make a difference; you could be an everyday hero instead. Of course, her students were more interested in the Avengers, but some of them took heed of her words, and that was enough.

Making sure she had left everything as it was, she wasn’t looking when she turned quickly on her heels, colliding with what felt like a brick wall. She bounced backward, dropping her school bag as papers and assorted colored pens scattered to the ground around them.

The man who seemed unfazed by the encounter stood firmly. He glanced around as if trying to figure out where he was. His fists clenched at his sides, and his face filled with uncertainty.

“I’m so sorry.” Her cheeks reddened as she stooped to gather her things. “It was my fault. I should have been looking where I was going. But I’m late, and now I’m even later.” The teacher retrieved her belongings in a sort of haphazard frenzy, her words spilling nervously from her lips. “Are you okay? I mean, I’m sure you are, because...well, look at you.” She took a quick glance up, noting the definition of his muscles under the form-fitting workout shirt. This image only caused the fire in her face to burn hotter. She looked away before her eyes settled on his face. “I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head in disbelief and hurried off down the street, too embarrassed to look back. She had never been the conversationalist, and five years of minimal practice hadn't help, but even she knew that was excruciating.

As if being awakened from a trance, Steve pushed back the memories and processed what had happened. It was unlike him to be so distracted. However, since returning from the past, he found himself increasingly preoccupied and inattentive. Two things he was not used to being.

His gaze lingered on where she once stood. He turned and raised his hand to offer his own apology, but it was too late. He only caught the last glimpse of the hem of her dress fluttering around the corner.

The charm of the town caught his attention. He had never been there before, and to be fair, he wasn’t sure how he got there now. It was like something out of a made-for-television movie. It was a picturesque small town, with antique architecture, clean streets, and people who still smiled and paused to talk with one another. As he scanned the scene, he didn't see a single person on their phone. The people there truly seemed grateful to just enjoy the day.

The large clock tower in the town square read just past noon. He had been running for almost 4 hours. Could it have really been that long?

A flapping paper ensnared under the bench caught his attention. He retrieved the curious object—a child's drawing. In the middle of the page was a figure with long brown hair, and surrounding her were little stick figures, all wearing what looked like capes. A board on the wall read, "Heroes are born from small acts of kindness." It was addressed "To my favorite teacher" and signed "Emma". He realized the woman from before must have dropped it.

For a moment, his thoughts were quiet. This simple, innocent message had reminded him of what had been saved. His lips curled slightly at the corners. The feeling was short-lived, as a group of people stopped across the street and began looking and pointing in his direction.

Steve sighed heavily; he wasn't that man anymore. He wasn't who they were looking for. He tucked the drawing in his pocket and pulled out his phone to track the best route home, as he began jogging back the way he came.

[Part Two]

Till the end of the line (permatag) @the-soot-sprite

#steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x original character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fan fiction #chris evans #captain america #captain america fan fiction #marvel fan fiction #fan fiction #steve rogers x teacher

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the-lady-writes-what · 4 years

Text

22. Keigo Takami

Theme: Warlock, soulmate

Kinks: Mutual intoxication, dry humping, cowgirl

Masterlist

You clutch your spellbook tight like how mothers hold onto their babies. It’s worn and weathered, and its black leather tells more of a story than how to cure warts with a bit of bacon grease. It’s probably as old as your line, and it traveled all the way down that family tree to you, a mere leaf. The pack on your shoulders was ladened down with food stock, a knife, quill feathers, bottles of ink, charms, clothes, and an extra pair of socks. You found yourself at the center of a family dispute. Marriage had been on the table. Two men that you wouldn’t be caught dead with at the harvest festival, let alone meet him at the altar. It wasn’t that they were ugly; you weren’t that shallow. It was their personalities that made you gag. One was a raging hot-head with the ego to match his fire-powered magic. The other was just as bad except add an inferiority complex and creepy blue eyes. Naturally, picking neither displeased your family so much that they were forced to fight and debate, which would be the better match.

Your opinion was a moot point.

An idea struck you in the middle of the night. You woke from a dream where you walked through a forest, and it was raining red feathers. This was the omen you waited for. Well, any excuse would have nice, but you couldn’t imagine the serendipitous coincidence of such a dream a few days before your parents would decide your fate…for you. By dawn, you already began to set your plan in motion. At midnight the following night, you secreted some things away in a large pack, snuck out, and hurried into the woods where they didn’t dare to follow you.

Within a couple of days, you couldn’t smell the smoke of chimneys or hear the cows and goats. Instead, you smelled damp earth and ripening wild apple trees and listened to the calls of various birds. Magpies, cuckoos, sparrows, and crows, you heard them all but no red feathers. You never saw a cardinal, which you hoped to mean that you were on the right path just as you interpreted your dream. Once or twice you took shelter beneath a conifer or the ruins of an ancient building to escape the rain, which it often did. You foraged where you could and slept on a pillow of moss. You were tired, but this was the sweetest price of freedom.

The forest wasn’t particularly cursed or haunted. There weren’t any wolves, and nobody had seen a bear roam through here in decades. You knew enough about the wildlife to leave enough alone. All you had to do was march through the woods and reach the next village on the other side before winter set in. Your family was too good for trekking through the woods and far too proud to ask someone on the other side of the woods for help. Soon, you’d be out of their hair.

You were trampling through the woods one afternoon. The earth and fallen leaves were sodden with a recent shower. You barely had enough time the night before to create a shelter for you with a spell you found in your family’s tome. It was rightfully yours by birth, and your mother had no interest or skill in magic at any rate. Your grandmother certainly approved when she helped you sneak it out of the house. Wherever you went in the world, you would find work. Witches and warlocks had been in high demand for some of their conjurations, and with your skills and knowledge as a healer, you could find a job easily enough. If not in the next village, then in the next one. Or maybe you would go far into one of those cities you heard so much about from passing travelers.

Your leather shoes were soaked through having trekked through the mud and rain puddles. It dampened your socks all the way to the marrow of your bones underneath. You could feel your toes begin to tingle. You looked around, hoping to find more ruins or a cave, for a place to build a fire. You looked at the trees, and your heart sank a little. All the branches around you looked too wet to be used as firewood. There were a handful of matches left in your pack, but you needed to save those for emergencies, not just because your toes were getting cold. You had to find shelter soon. The clouds had been gray all morning, and the rain was coming again. You sighed for the umpteenth time while looking at the sky.

A laughing brook ran out ahead of you. The width was big enough for you to jump across no problem. You thought that if there was a brook, it could turn into a stream. A stream meant a waterway, and where there was a waterway, there was bound to be people. People lived in houses. You followed the brook through its natural course. Just as you thought, the brook grew bigger and bigger in size. It turned into a stream, then a creek and finally a small river. It cut through a clearing in the forest. Your eyes traveled with it to a lovely two-story cottage. Attached to that cottage was a watermill that turned the water into frothing foam. A garden grew wild though somehow not choked by weeds. You stopped in your tracks.

No. That couldn’t be. Your eyes must be deceiving you.

In the garden grew all sorts of flowers and herbs, most of which were out of season. You saw lush leaves, blooms, and green foliage even from where you stood when you knew that they should have turned brown with the season. That was the first of your many mysterious and curious sights. You drew closer to the place and discovered that the cottage was no cottage. Wood turned into cobbled stones, and the humble appearance took on a new shape. It wasn’t the size of a castle, but it imitated its shape. There was a keep, a tower, and a courtyard that grew a variety of trees. The bricks were made of stones you never laid eyes on before. They seemed to glitter despite the dull sunlight. That was one thing that this mysterious place couldn’t change the weather.

You realized that the smoke billowing out of the chimney wasn’t gray but shimmering purple. Plumes of it belched into the sky before disappearing. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You had to skulk about the courtyard to find the main entrance. It was a heavy ebony wood door with a green-blue Green Man’s face for an ornate knocker. You clutched the ring in your hand and banged on the door twice and stood on the stoop for probably ten minutes before the door swung open.

You didn’t know what or who you were expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this. Instead of a wizened old man with a flowing white beard or a velvet-clad seductress, it was a young man, not much older than you. He had golden eyes marked at two corners with black arrows. Blonde hair was swept back from his face and yet remained uncontrolled. The man rubbed the sleep from his eyes. You felt bad for waking him up from his nap (because how could he still be asleep at noon?).

“Excuse me, sir, I was wondering if you mind terribly granting me shelter. I’ve been traveling for days, and my boots are soaked all the way through. It’s going to rain soon, and I was hoping to mind somewhere safe to rest and stay clear out of it,” you said.

The man in the doorway stared and stared and stared. After a while, he had to blink or go blind.

“What did you say your name was?” His voice made you tremble.

Not out of fear, though. There was something in his voice that sent a playful tingle down your spine. You furrowed your brows.

“I-I didn’t give you my name,” you said, curious.

“Why don’t you come on in and warm yourself by the fire? We can exchange introductions over some tea?” The man in the doorway pulled the door open wide enough for you to enter.

If you thought his house was big on the outside, it was much bigger on the inside. Or it would have been if the space wasn’t taken up by trinkets, tools, and books. Towers of books reached the vaulted ceilings. You picked up the front of your skirts to give your legs room to keep up with him. He was a little shorter than you, but he walked a lot faster. His parlor was, so far, the cleanest space in his home you’d seen. At least, by comparison, the parlor was spacious, and you could comfortably sit down in the large armchair by the fire. You set your bag down and plopped right into the chair. Your feet would be singing your praises if they had mouths and sentience. You warmed your feet by the fire while your host left to make tea.

He returned after a long while with a serving tray. Jasmine filled the parlor as he poured two cups. Taking the seat across from you, he sipped from his cup.

“I’m Keigo Takami,” he said.

Politely, you returned, “Y/N L/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N, if I have permission to call you that?”

“You do.” You grinned into your teacup.

“What brings you all the way out here in the middle of the woods? Get lost on the way to the next town?” Keigo asked.

“Not exactly.” You swallowed some tea and continued. “Escaping an unwanted arranged marriage.”

Keigo didn’t seem surprised. His golden eyes softened, and he nodded. It was as if he understood your situation.

“My old man wanted me to be a foot soldier. I told him ‘no.’ He didn’t take it too kindly. Locked me up in a tower until I ‘came to see the error in my ways.’ And look where I am now!” Keigo gestured around the room.

While cluttered beyond imagination, the parlor held expensive treasures and gadgets. Clocks, sundials, colorful glass vases, feathers…Feathers?

Your eyes snapped to a red streak dashing in front of the stained glass window in the hall. It was followed by another, third, and a fourth. A red feather floated on the air as if pulled by an invisible string into the parlor. A few more followed. The feathers went to work dusting, wiping, and putting books on the shelves. Some of them pulled off your boots, strung your socks up on the mantle to dry, and pulled on a fresh pair that were soft as sheepskin. Your eyes followed the red feathers wherever they traveled. Keigo wore a small smile while watching you marvel at the feathers. However, you were following them with your eyes for a reason different than the one he was thinking about.

“I just thought I’d tidy up a little. It’s been a while since I’ve had company. They’re a pet project of mine. It took me a while to get the enchantment just right,” said Keigo.

One of the feathers fell into your lap. You picked it up like it was a delicate spider-web.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Keigo showed you the rest of his house: the kitchen, dining room, second parlor, library, observatory, and the guest bedrooms. You sat down to dinner with him to discuss some sort of arrangement. You felt terrible taking up his space and mucking up his lovely floors.

“What if I worked for you? That way, I can get some training, you’ll have an extra hand around, and we won’t have to be lonely come winter. I know I’m just a village girl who ran away from home, but I know things. And I’m a fast learner,” you explained over a pot of stew.

“I work with a lot of hoity-toity rich folk for commissions. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

You shook your head. “No, sir. Not at all.”

“Don’t call me ‘sir.’ Makes me feel old,” said Keigo. “It does get frustrating having nobody to talk to all the way out here. You seem real eager to learn, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t take up an apprentice.”

You clinked your glasses of wine together to solidify your spoken contract. You stared at the red feathers again as they swooped in to take care of the dinner table. Keigo caught you standing frozen as your eyes flickered this way and that to follow them.

“I apologize if this sounds rude but, did you have a lot of magic where you came from?” Asked Keigo.

“Well, yes, but—” You bit your lower lip. “You’re going to think it’s silly.”

Keigo smiled and turned his head towards the doorway. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You tore your eyes away from the marvelous red feathers and followed him out into the hallway. Without turning back to speak to you, Keigo said, “And bring your spellbook with you.”

You ran back to the parlor and found your spellbook on an end table where you found it. Keigo came, found you, and led you to the observatory. The glass dome showed the brightest stars. The moon was in her full glory.

“I’ve noticed how you’ve been staring at my feathers. Is there any particular reason why? Trying to discover how to do it yourself?”

“No, nothing like that!” You said as you shook your head again. “Before…before I left home, I had this weird dream. You see, I remember in that dream I was walking through a forest and all of a sudden it started raining red feathers. I didn’t know what it meant, not that I do now. I think that I was led here by something.”

“Let me see your book,” said Keigo.

You were more than hesitant to hand it over. You didn’t like your family, never had, but this was still your family’s spellbook. It was an heirloom. Your hands shook a bit when you held it out for Keigo to take. Someone of his magical caliber would know the weight of a family’s spellbook and would respect its secrets, wouldn’t he? Your heart started beating louder as if Keigo was rifling through your personal belongings.

Keigo pried open the cover and pulled out a gray and brown feather, and closed the book. He set it gently on a table and kept the feather. Your brows furrowed; you never saw that before.

“You see, Y/N, I had a strange dream too. A few weeks ago, I dreamt that I was also walking through the woods. I saw a young woman in a green cloak just like yours hand me a book. Inside was a feather just like this.”

You were acutely aware that you still held onto one of Keigo’s red feathers. A shiver ran down your spine as Keigo slowly closed the gap separating you. His golden eyes looked straight into yours. An alchemical experiment was taking place in his eyes. You could see all sorts of emotions congealing and mixing in there. You were too dizzy to distinguish one from another. Keigo took your hand that held his red feather in the one where he carried the gray feather. He clasped your fingers between his. You felt his blood race in the center of his palm.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Y/N? Because I don’t know how else to explain this.”

“I…don’t know,” you answered honestly.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Keigo pressed his mouth against yours, hands still clasped together. His free hand found your waist, and his thumb began to draw infinite circles on top of your bodice. You kissed before (not that your parents would ever know), so this shouldn’t have been anything new. But the way Keigo moved his lips against yours and how his tongue slowly teased you, it felt like being kissed for the very first time. Your hand moved to caress the back of his neck, which brought your bodies a lot closer.

Suddenly, you were falling. You landed on a pile of pillows that weren’t there before. Keigo landed on top of you, shedding his outer coat. He went back to kissing you without missing a beat. Your fingers deftly unlaced the front of your bodice and let Keigo peel it away. You weren’t a virgin anymore, but that didn’t stop the goosebumps from arising in your skin when he touched you, kissed your skin, or teased you with his adept tongue. Calloused hands moved under your skirt to remove your bloomers and a couple layers of petticoats. Keigo nestled between your thighs, gently humping you. Your face darkened while he continued and played with your clit. Your back arched like a bow as you came for the first time that evening.

Keigo leaned above you, smiling like a triumphant demon of seduction. The illusion sold a lot better if he wasn’t panting slightly or dripping with sweat. A wooden box carried by a team of feathers wandered into the room. They set the box in Keigo’s hands. He opened the lid and turned to you.

“Want to try an experiment with me?” He asked.

“What kind of an experiment?”

You were just coming down from your high when Keigo took out the contents of the box and set it aside. In his hand, he held two large, dark orange flowers.

“This is Epifagus Aboreum. You pull the flower from the stem and suck on end. I’ve heard that it produces a very ‘relaxed’ state of being. Do you want to try it with me?”

You nodded.

You and Keigo carefully removed the flower from their stems. You watched Keigo suckle the end of the flower, which looked like a horn to blow into. You did the same. There seemed to be no effect at first. Not for long, however. In ten minutes, you and Keigo were back at peeling each other’s clothes off. Skin never felt so alive under your hands. You could feel his heart racing. Mouths pressed together again. Licking and nipping at each other while you rolled around on the pillows. Keigo’s hands palmed your breasts while you rubbed his shoulder with one hand and stroked his cock with the other. Your head felt heavy and light at the same time. The stars shining through the glass dome appeared brighter and more clear. Candles flickered with a multitude of colors, shifting, changing, morphing.

“Oh, Keigo,” you moaned as the man suckled on your neck, making sure to leave a love bite.

“Do you feel good?”

“Mhmm, yes.” You hummed.

“Wanna continue?”

“Yes!”

Keigo shifted you onto your side and lifted one leg over his shoulder. The blunt head of his cock brushed against the wet seam of your cunt. He slipped twice, unable to get it in the right way. The third time proved the charm as he slid inside your walls without much more effort. Your cunt fluttered around him. From this angle, you could see everything he did to you.

His first thrusts were sloppy as if he couldn’t figure out what angle to pound you with. Keigo quickly got the hang of it and rutted against you, fast and hard. You weren’t aware of how loud you were. His body moving on top of and inside you created new sensations you couldn’t understand while under the influence of the flower-drug. Stars burst in front of your eyes with each stroke of his cock. There was no beginning or end. It was just the two of you. You clawed at the pillows as you tried to find purchase. Your mind was going blank.

“You feel so good, baby bird. Fuck, where have you been all my life?”

“O-Over the brook and through the woods. At grandma’s house.”

This made him chuckle, though it didn’t stop his rough treatment of you. Keigo’s grip was bruising, but you don’t feel any pain. There was no cause of complaint when he was burying himself deep inside of you. You couldn’t tell if it was just him or if the flower-drug made him thicker. His veiny ridges created the right amount of friction against your inner walls.

You were both panting like dogs in heat. You moved your hips against him, and his calloused fingers tweaked your clit.

“K-Keigo…”

“Me too, baby. I’m gonna cum...so hard.”

Keigo was an honest man. After what seemed like hours of him railing you, Keigo groaned loudly. He shoved his cock all the way in until the blunt head brushed along your cervix. You didn’t have time to climax first before he was releasing all he heads straight into your womb. Warmth spread throughout your body. The drug, Keigo’s cock, and the cum painting your insides white were all enough to have your eyes roll into the back of your skull. You came shortly after.

The room was spinning so much after coming so hard that you couldn’t move a muscle. Apparently, Keigo wasn’t better. He was still inside your body when he rolled over and laid you on top of his chest. His cock remained buried deep, all the way in, when conscious hit you both.

When you awoke, you still lay on top of Keigo. You looked down to find you had been inside. Even though he was still asleep and limp within the confines of your pussy, that ddin’t stop the naughty grin across your face. You were awake and fully alert. No drugs in your system could prevent you from feeling Keigo unhindered. You moved your hips up and down, impaling yourself on his cock. You braced your hands on his hips to help steady yourself.

Keigo stirred when he felt himself grow hard and feel the moist walls of your cunt, sucking him in. He rubbed his eyes, then laid back to enjoy the view. Your breasts bounced seductively in front of him as you rode him just as hard as he rode you the night before. Keigo couldn’t resist palming each breast in his hands and play with your nipples. Your hair swayed with each of your movements like a warrior-queen riding her powerful stead.

He heard footsteps climbing up the stairs, but he was too lazy and felt too good to make you stop. Whoever it was, they were about to get an eyeful of your ass, and easily you took his cock. Keigo wore nothing but a smirk. Your eyes were heavy-lidded while you concentrated on riding him. You couldn’t hear a thing other than the wet clap of flesh against flesh.

A tall, feminine figure approached. Her white bunny ears grazed the top doorway before she stopped dead. Your back was turned to her, so you did not see her. Keigo looked past your form and gave her a curious look. You were too busy to notice him. His friend quickly disappeared rather than wait in the doorway for him to finish with you. Keigo snapped his hips upwards to meet your every downward thrust. He teased your clit to ensure a speedy climax. Keigo filled you up again and let you scream to the high heavens. You held his hands as you came around him one more time. Keigo pulled out gently and pulled a couple blankets literally out of thin air to cover you with. While he dressed, once more, you drifted to sleep. Keigo gave one last look at you from the doorway and smiled to himself. He quickly turned into the hallway to find his friend. The sooner he figured out what she wanted, the sooner Keigo could return and spend all of his time with you and learning everything there was to know about you.

#my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #mha smut #kinktober #kinktober week #kinktober my hero academia edition #reader fic #keigo takami #keigo #hawks #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #fantasy AU

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sepublic · 3 years

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Ivy on the Run!

Okay, so I want to do this week’s duo of episodes separately. Lemme tell you, this season is NOT disappointing… I know I’ve said it before, but does anyone else just find Season 2 even better than the first one? Not to say the first was bad by any means, it was great- But Season 2 just… Something about the locales, the charm, the little worldbuilding touches, the humor and timing… Even beyond the additional ‘plot’ episodes, there’s something special to even the ‘filler’ stories in this season! If Season 1 was great, Season 2 is even better!

Like, the tiny little details with the bugs. The sleeping bug being Ivy’s alarm clock, and also I love the foreshadowing gag of seeing the “Do it, you coward!” poster in the background, and THEN it comes into play when otherwise it was easy to miss! That was small but neat and subtle and well-handled! The bee telephones were also hilarious and great, and I love how Felicia is like, lowkey terrifying and hyper-competent in this episode, until she openly IS during her battle with Ivy! That scene where Ivy shuts the door and the Frog China begins to fall, I expected the typical trope where it shatters and just worsens things, but then Felicia managed to catch it effortlessly in time- That caught me off guard and WOWed me! Between Ivy and Felicia and Sylvia, and the Sundews are a REAL match for the Plantars in terms of chaos!

The subplot with Anne and Polly learning martial arts was funny, and hopefully a prelude to Anne’s own skills in combat. I love One-Eyed Wally just being there, no particular reason; I love him a lot so any reason to have him included is wonderful to me. I felt bad for Polly though, she has no actual limbs, and I can see Wally’s travels making him well-learned in combat… Which of course ties into Felicia, who’s ALSO travelled and is skilled! Ivy doing everything her mother does, and not actually abysmally failing, but just missing that special little touch, was a big mood… And that beetle-catching segment was great and reminded me of beetle-hunting in Breath of the Wild! That iridescent Opal beetle…

Love this season’s vibes for that game, I hope Amphibia leans even further… Lowkey Amphibia gives me Hollow Knight vibes as a world where this smaller animal is the typical populace and how that changes things up, the knights and royalty, the mystery, and of course the abundance of bugs either way! I’d love to see an action-adventure game, maybe even a Metroidvania, fully set in Amphibia’s setting and world and allowed to go hog-wild with it.

And, don’t worry Sprig- I don’t think Ivy really needed you to have actual friends, she just needed an excuse to get out, and you’re enough for her! Actually, thinking about it now- Sprig was upfront and honest about his lying for once, which is a wonderful improvement of his past mistakes, especially the one from the previous episode! You love to see his character development, and likewise, I love how this episode is a continuation of the last one with Sprig and Ivy’s date! Nets and slingshots seem to be very complex devices actually in this world, which gets me into my musings on like; A game for Amphibia and gameplay mechanics, perhaps weapons and tool and crafting… But I digress. Also, Felicia talking to her on the phone, only to manifest like THAT when Ivy said no, was both hilarious and genuinely scary. I love Felicia in this episode…

Anne’s mom was hilarious, I saw that gag but it still played so well, and it’s always a delight to see On (my placeholder name for Anne’s mom because she’s voice by On Braly, Matt’s real life mother)! I like the sense of this show that Wartwood’s inhabitants each have their own hidden backstories and nuances, more to them than meets the eye; It reminds me of the town of Gravity Falls, which makes sense given Matt’s past work in that show. Mrs. Croaker was a former assassin, Stumpy is possibly a veteran, Loggle has his mad experiments, Wally is Old Money; And of course, Felicia! I wonder if we’ll ever get that lore for the Sundews, if Sylvia has anything to comment… I like how the Sundews are lowkey shaping up and being developed with its own memorable cast like the Plantars. Speaking of backstories, we know Mayor Toadstool has an upcoming arc, I wonder if we’ll see anything with him- This is all getting quite sonder, I like it. The finesse of proper manners –which I imagine IS difficult and graceful- going into Felicia’s combat was great, as was that teasing boop.

All in all, a great episode! Now, onto the next…!

#amphibia #amphibia anne #anne boonchuy #amphibia ivy #ivy sundew #amphibia felicia #felicia sundew

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cyberb07 · 2 years

Text

I posted 16 times in 2021

8 posts created (50%)

8 posts reblogged (50%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.0 posts.

I added 20 tags in 2021

#resident evil the duke - 3 posts

#re8 the duke - 3 posts

#resident evil village the duke - 3 posts

#beata - 2 posts

#cyberb art 2021 - 2 posts

#as long as you have enough lei - 2 posts

#self ship - 2 posts

#kiss me plz - 1 posts

#pardon if the proportions are off - i get the impression he's bigger all over - 1 posts

#self shipping - 1 posts

Longest Tag: 77 characters

#pardon if the proportions are off - i get the impression he's bigger all over

My Top Posts in 2021

A special reminder to my fellow self-shippers and fangirls(bois)

Just because a user who roleplays as the fictional character you adore doesn’t like you or acknowledge you, or even makes you feel bad.. doesn’t mean that the fictional character you adore would do the same.

19 notes • Posted 2021-06-21 04:03:35 GMT

What was supposed to be a funny/cute doodled 2-panel comic turned into a sweet sketch showing what I really wanted to do-- have me some cuddle time with The Duke.

Why does my creativity have to flow at night? XD It was a work night for goodness sake~

(Plz don't judge too harshly; it's clearly unfinished; the only reason I'm sharing is because I would feel like I'm lying to myself if I didn't share this intimate moment my sketch sesh produced)

36 notes • Posted 2021-06-02 01:49:33 GMT

https://www.ign.com/articles/move-over-lady-dimitrescu-the-resident-evil-community-loves-the-duke-now

75 notes • Posted 2021-06-03 04:59:36 GMT

How The Duke can match your Love Language

Words of Affirmation: The Duke is well-spoken, and is so charming that showering you with sweet somethings will come easy. Just remember, he can be a bit playful and troll-y, but it’s usually hidden advice. Whether comforting or encouraging, I imagine he would say all the right things, and exactly what you need to hear~

Acts of Service: He’s a merchant; his job is to serve. Sure, the Duke might have his own agenda, but he is plenty servile and helpful. Stocking needed items, marking a map, cooking food, and offering a ride; he aided Ethan in these ways. Imagine how much more he’d help you, his love? ;3 And he’s confident he can provide. (Sorry-- this is my language, and when he said that line he won my heart <3)

Receiving Gifts: I wonder about this, since the Duke sells, not gives... Maybe that’s only when his shop’s open. Off the clock, I think he’d be plenty charitable. Not only that, The Duke knows quality. He enjoys fine things, like cigars, rings, crystals, a good book, waistcoats, and making coin. As a merchant, he’s surely traded special items. Imagine what treasures he could give you~

Quality Time: Ethan can tell you; the Duke always seems to be around when you need him. You may not know how, but he’s there. And he’s content to stay with you so long as you stay with him, whether in a cart or in a room. Candlelit & classy, or steely & musty. And if either of you would like to skip town, I imagine he wouldn’t mind sharing a ride with you ^w^ (Cart trip!)

Physical Touch: Ah, yes. While we don’t get to see Duke interact with anyone that way, I can’t help but imagine... For one thing, he looks like he’d be great for cuddles. Big ol’ tums and those big arms; if you need hugs, he could give ‘em. And those cushy hands! Don’t forget; he said his fingers were dexterous. I get the feeling he could give wonderful backrubs~ o>w<o

What do you guys think? Agree? Have better examples? (Do you know your love language?) ^w^ Go and imagine Duke speaking your language to your heart’s content. After all: anything you want, the Duke can provide~

87 notes • Posted 2021-06-08 22:44:34 GMT

Any time I hear a YouTuber call my Duke anything mean, I get sooo protective. God save me, I can’t help it. (Bonus: I like to imagine a second panel to this where we fall. Not being mean-- ^w^ just being realistic. I find it endearing, in a funny way.)

106 notes • Posted 2021-05-28 04:15:08 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

(And I still love him. Maybe next year, Tumblr will get to see me post about my other art, self-insert OC's, and fictional loves. Purghaps~)

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #CyberB #Beata #Biatri #andPrincessBooB

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writersplanetarium · 4 years

Text

Facade: Back In Business

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

Aelin moaned as she grasped at Rowan’s back, her nails dragging along his skin. His hips thrust above her, his hands braced beside her head. The wall behind them thumped with every strong thrust, the headboard hitting it with the movement. Rowan bit his lip, groaning above her as he moved faster.

“Gods, please,” she begged.

“Cut!” Aelin sighed, letting her hands drop. Rowan looked down at her.

“You know you-” “Yes I know I didn’t wait long enough. I know,” she shot back, “I think you all just count too slow.” “All you have to do is lay there and pretend,” Rowan said, brushing his hair back from where it hung in his face, “Surely you can manage that.”

“Just like every other sexual encounter I’ve ever had,” she said.

“I’m going to tell Chaol you said that.” Aelin rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully. “If you’re going to be grumpy, I can be on top,” Aelin said, “We could swing it.”

“I’m fine,” he retorted, staring right back at her with those pine green eyes, clearly getting riled up at her insinuation.

“Okay,” she said, resisting a grin, “I’m just saying that it wouldn’t be out of character for Charlotte to want to be on top if this is too much for you to manage.”

“You couldn’t handle what I can manage,” he said, his eyes growing a shade darker that Aelin pretended not to notice.

“Daemion does kind of seem like he could be a bottom though. Not all the time, but he has his moments-” “They put me on top so I’m going to stay on top since I can manage just-”

“What are you two talking about?” Fenrys asked from the other side of the door to the fake dorm they had set up, waiting for his cue.

“Nothing!” ********

“I’m telling you it was ten seconds!” Aelin argued as her and Lysandra walked off the set, done for the day.

“Sure,” Lysandra drawled, “Aelin, it’s okay to admit that you liked having him on top of you.” She cast her friend a short look, making her laugh. “You two have been getting on alarmingly well. I’m just saying...”

“Rowan and I are barely friends,” she said, “And we’re far from lovers.”

“Sure, sure,” Lysandra said, “That’s why he’s been going over to your house and you two have been watching movies and having dinner and-”

“That’s for work, and for someone who wanted us to get along, you’re really pushing me to stop,” Aelin said.

“You’re telling me you’ve never thought of climbing that man like a tree?” Lysandra asked. Aelin couldn’t necessarily say that. She’d actually thought about it a shameful amount of times, especially since she and him had started getting along. She wrote it off as just pent up energy. She hadn’t gotten laid in months, and even then it had been so disappointing she’d decided it wasn’t worth it to go through the trouble. She was recognizable now, and she hated when men only wanted her for clout.

“I’m saying it’s never going to happen,” Aelin said, climbing into the car, “Is Aedion bringing Evangeline?”

“Yeah, they didn’t want her on set for yours and Rowan’s scene, so he said he’d bring her up. But don’t change the subject. I think I saw him smile at you the other day. That’s real progress.” Lysandra dropped herself into the driver’s seat, pulling on her sunglasses, starting the car.

“Well I’m just fine with staying where we are. Do you realize the hell it’d be to be in a relationship with him? All the paparazzi? We’d never know another day’s rest. Besides, half his charm for fans is being the eligible bachelor. You know how strict Maeve is on them about their relationships.”

“She doesn’t hate you though,” Lysandra said, looking out the back as she pulled out, “Me on the other hand?”

“That’s because of the ordeal with Fenrys,” Aelin said.

“I told her that it was a joke, but she didn’t care,” Lysandra said, “Regardless, I couldn’t care less about what that bitch has to say. We’re having dinner tonight and both you and Rowan are going to be there.”

“He agreed to that?” Aelin snorted.

“I may have guilted him by saying Evangeline was very excited to see him again,” Lysandra said. Aelin laughed, shaking her head. “Works like a charm. And she really is expecting the both of you, so there’s no backing out. Plus, I know you don’t have plans, or an early morning, so you’re stuck with us.”

“Fine, fine,” Aelin said, “So long as Aedion’s not cooking. He burns shit and thinks it’s flavor.”

“We’re ordering in,” Lysandra said, “Pizza.”

“I do love pizza,” Aelin said.

“I know,” Lysandra grinned.

********

Rowan tugged on his t-shirt before he glanced over at the clock. He had ten minutes before he had to head over to Lysandra and Aedion’s place for dinner. He’d been reluctant to agree, honestly just wanting to pick something up on the way home and stuff himself full before going to bed. The first day back of filming had felt exceedingly long. He’d had to stay all day, running scene after scene, and of course they’d started right off the bat with his and Aelin’s opening scene.

It had left him very, very uncomfortable all day.

It wasn’t that he wanted her, he definitely didn’t want her like that, he told himself. It was just a natural response to the suggestive sounds and movements to think about it. And think about it. And think about it. Luckily the sheer awkwardness of it in the moment kept it from being too obvious, since there was nothing sexy about a room full of people watching and filming you as you pretend to have sex with your neighbor slash coworker, and then critiquing your form. But after... his mind wouldn’t let go.

He walked into the bathroom, splashing his face with some cold water. No. Not tonight. Not before dinner. Not ever. He did not want Aelin. He didn’t. Even if she smelled like jasmine. Even if she made those sounds- No.

Rowan dried his face off and grabbed his phone, checking it quickly. He saw he had a text from Maeve.

Call me.

He huffed, hoping this didn’t take long. It only took two rings for her to answer.

“Rowan,” she drawled.

“You said to call,” he said.

“I did,” she replied, “I have some news I’m sure you’ll be eager to hear.”

Great. She rarely ever actually had news he wanted to hear.

“Remelle is coming to town while on tour for her new movie.” Of course. Of course Remelle was coming because his life wasn’t chaotic enough. “I figured since you two are on such good terms now, it’d be good for you two to meet up.”

“Why?” Rowan asked.

“You’re becoming more popular, as is she. We don’t want anyone thinking there’s remaining tension between you two. Benson and Essar are going to be with her, so it won’t be just the two of you anyway. I expect you all to have dinner together at least once.”

“Fine,” Rowan ground, “Set it up.”

“Already done. You’ll be eating at The Mistward at seven next Tuesday.” Pefect. Just perfect. His only night off and he has to spend it with Remelle.

“Fine,” he said, hanging up. He checked the time and quickly made his way to the door. He grabbed his keys from their bowl, locking up the house. As he stepped out, he saw Aelin leaving her own house.

“You too, huh?” She called, meeting his gaze. He nodded, meeting her on the side walk in front of her house. “Not like you to be so late Rowan.”

“It’s one minute,” he said.

“Kind of sad when you live right next door,” she teased.

“And you?” He asked.

“I’m habitually late,” she said, waving him off, “They expect it.”

“I’ll just say you held me up,” he said.

“And what was it that actually held you up. You look grumpy.”

“You say I always look grumpy,” he said.

“You do, but this is more pronounced,” she poked him between the eyebrows, earning her a shove.

“Remelle is coming to town,” he huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Remelle?” Aelin asked.

“My ex,” he said, “One of the girls I got caught hooking up with a few years ago. She wanted more and I didn’t. Caused a big thing when I broke things off.”

“Oh I remember that,” she laughed, “She’s making a movie now, isn’t she?”

“That’s why she’s coming, and bringing some of her other costars,” Rowan huffed, “I apparently have to have dinner with them.”

“Have to?” She asked.

“You don’t generally get to question Maeve,” he said.

“Right,” Aelin said, “So when’s this dinner thing happening?”

“Next Tuesday,” he said, “7. At Mistward.”

“Really?” Aelin asked, looking more intrigued, “I like Mistward.”

“Well... you could come,” he said, despite knowing it was likely a bad idea.

“You want to hang out for non work related purposes? Rowan, if you say that, I might think I’m growing on you,” she said.

“Like a tumor,” he said, “If you don’t want to come-”

“No, I’ll go,” she said, “Ask her embarrassing questions about your sex life. It’ll be great.”

“You will ask no such thing,” he said with a sharp look.

“You gonna stop me?” She asked, a mischevious glint to her turquoise and gold eyes.

“I could uninvite you,” he said.

“Well I already know when and where. I could just show up. Imagine that.”

“You enjoy causing trouble too much,” he said, knocking on Lysandra and Aedion’s door.

“Guilty as charged.” The door swung open to reveal Evangeline grinning, dressed up in a nice shirt and skirt. Rowan realized he should have probably worn something nicer than jeans and a tshirt as he looked over and realized Aelin had dressed up a bit too.

“Hi!” She said exitedly, “Aedion just got back with the pizza so it’s nice and warm.”

“Perfect,” Aelin said, “You look so nice. Is that new?” Evangeline nodded.

“You have to look nice for a dinner party.”

“Of course,” Aelin agreed. Luckily Rowan saw Aedion was dressed pretty much the same as him. Aedion gave him a nod of greeting that Rowan returned.

“Welcome to our humble abode,” Lysandra said, “There’s beer, juice, and water in the fridge, wine on the counter, and pizza’s on the table.”

Rowan grabbed a beer, sitting down to the left of the head of the table. He raised an eyebrow at Aelin as she sat across from him. She grinned taking a sip from her wine, raising an eyebrow.

Am I doing something wrong? He narrowed his eyes at her.

Not yet. She chuckled, looking down the table as Aedion sat beside Rowan and Lysandra sat beside Aelin, Evangeline taking the seat at the head of the table.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” she said, “Today, we are having dinner to celebrate everyone being friends now!”

“Is that so?” Aelin asked, looking over at Lysandra.

“It’s a milestone,” she pointed out, “It’s the first time everyone at this table is on speaking terms. I’d say that’s something to celebrate.”

“Exactly!” Evangeline said, “So we all have to eat dinner and be happy.”

“I think we can manage dinner. Like a little trial run,” Aelin said, looking at Rowan, who rolled his eyes.

“Trial run?” Aedion asked.

“Remelle’s in town,” Rowan said, “I’m being forced to have dinner, and Aelin’s coming along.”

“For moral support,” she said.

“I don’t need moral support,” he said.

“Everyone needs moral support,” Evangeline said, “I feel much happier when I go to the doctor when Lys is there with me.”

“Me too,” Aelin said, “When I had to get my nose fixed I was much happier with Lys and Aedion there.” Rowan met her gaze.

Really? I thought we were past this.

That doesn’t mean I’ll ever let you forget it. She winked before speaking aloud. “I’m absolutely starving, so I say we should start digging into this pizza.”

Dinner actually went by rather well. Rowan hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d just had dinner with friends. It was... nice. No fighting, no insults, and no tension.

He actually felt like he could relax for the first time in a long time.

He stayed late, playing games and talking. It was an oddly familial feeling Rowan hadn’t had in a long time. Looking around and seeing everyone sitting there, it felt like he fit in, somehow. But it also created a bit of a bittersweet hole in his gut. He’d wanted this with Lyria. He’d wanted this with her and his child. A family. Happiness. It still hurt like hell to think about, but he realized, with a bit of a reluctance, that maybe he was moving on.

But he wasn’t sure if he was ready.

“I think I’m going to go home,” he said, “Thank you for having me over.”

“Any time,” Aedion said.

“Don’t go! The sooner you leave, the sooner I have to go to bed,” Evangeline said. Rowan gave a small amused huff.

“Sleep is good for you,” he said, patting her head, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she sighed.

“I’m going to head out too,” Aelin said, “I’ve got a bathtub calling my name.” They all finished with their goodbyes, Aelin leaving right after Rowan. The night air had a sharp nip to it, but Rowan didn’t really mind. He looked up at the moon, watching it as he walked. “You doing okay?” He looked over to find Aelin rubbing her bare arms for warmth since her silk tanktop wasn’t doing much to warm her.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“If you say so,” she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. He watched her head back to her own house when he reached his doorstep, telling himself it was just his protective, male nature. That it was just to make sure she got home safe and most certainly not because he just wanted to look at her a little longer.

Definitely not.

Tagged:

@captain-timetraveldreamer @dayanna-hatter @faerie-queen-fireheart@rowaelinforeverworld @alifletcher2012 @shyvioletcat @myfeyrelady @howler07 @your-high-lady @secret-lil-rendez-vous @running-with-thieves @orangeannie @rapunzel1523 @tswaney17 @queenblueoffire @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @ame233 @nalgenewhore @ttakeitbacknoww @mydarlingfireheart @dayanna-hatter @alifletcher2012 @shyvioletcat @runawayrowan @tangledraysofsunshine @ella-enchanted27 @highqueenofelfhame @the-regal-warrior @sleeping-and-books @they-call-me-cuatro @mariamuses @lowhangingtreebranches @cityofchelsea16 @lovemollywho @breezyfreezey @worldoffae @awkward-avocado-s @superspiritfestival @carlyrollsroyce @slytherin-25 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @mis-lil-red @mynewdreamwasyou @ifinallygavein @amren-courtofdreams @shortandbadtempered @yikesitsmaddie @iliketoasterstrudels @mymultiversee @julemmaes @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cityofchelsea16 @tottenhamboys20 @sassys-world

LMK if you want to be tagged!

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #facade ch 11 #facade #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #actor au #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #let's pretend I didn't spend months trying to write this lmao #I wrote it three times and accidentally deleted it all three times #big rip but here we are #finally getting a new chapter

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octanesimp3000 · 3 years

Text

The Bunny, The Decoy and the Apex Games #3

I hope you’re ready for Elliott to start being the charming menace that we all love him to be in this chapter! Enjoy <3

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32034451/chapters/79553743

Summary:

It's finally the day of the big reveal, but you're nowhere to be found. No worries, because Elliott is there to save the day and to further egg on your feelings for him!

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

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

It was finally time for the fourth game of the season. Everyone had been up bright and early to do some last minute training in the practice range, all except for you. So where were you that fine morning?

In bed, that’s where.

You’d spent all of yesterday with Octavio who had readily accepted your apologies but hadn’t offered an explanation as to why he’d gotten upset in the first place. He’d dragged you into town early in the afternoon, saying that he wanted you to visit the arcade with him. Then, when the sun had set, Octavio had taken you to a nearby Japanese restaurant ‘The Okami Bar’ where you’d both treated yourselves to plate after plate of delicious sushi and glasses of sake.

By the time you’d gotten back to the dropship, the clock had struck 2am and you’d collapsed into your bed, full and dizzy from all the alcohol in your system.

A sudden rapid banging on your door managed to surprise you out of your deep slumber however, and you clambered quickly out of bed to answer the door. Elliott was standing there, a concerned frown on his face. “What are you still doing here, Y/N? The game starts in forty minutes, we gotta go!,” he exclaimed loudly as he pushed past you into your dormitory.

“W-What?! I didn’t realize, my alarm didn’t…,” you had started to say when you realized that no, you hadn’t gotten a chance to set your alarm last night before you passed out in your bed. “Crap, okay. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready!” You hurriedly started running around your room as you started gathering the outfit you usually wore underneath your armour on the battlefield: a layered black long-sleeved crop top with cut-out sleeves, a round neckline and front drawstring paired with dark army green cargo pants.

You glanced back at Elliott who was now standing by your desk as you clutched your clothes to your chest. “Uhh, Elliott? I kinda gotta change so could you...get out please?,” you asked with a sheepish smile.

Elliott looked over at you with a smile and pointed at the framed photograph of the two of you. “Those were the good ole days, huh? I remember when you were just that little girl who used to follow me around. Now, look at ya!,” Elliott said as he spun around to face you. You noticed his smile looked almost sad but before you could ask him about it, he turned back around and began walking to the door. But just before he left, Elliott said “You’ve grown so much since we first met...I hope Octavio knows how lucky he is to be dating you.”

As the door shut behind Elliott, you abruptly sat down on the edge of your bed, feeling your knees begin to wobble. Elliott thought Octavio was lucky to be dating you? Did that mean that Elliott thought you were date material? Would Elliott date you if you asked him out?

With all these questions swirling inside your mind, you almost forgot that you now only had twenty minutes left to get to the centre of the dropship. Shaking your head in an attempt to physically dispel all thoughts of dating the one and only Mirage of the Apex Games from your mind, you hurriedly began changing.

You managed to make it to the centre of the dropship just 5 minutes before the game was due to start and the teams would launch themselves from the ship into the World’s Edge arena. Octavio was there, his mask already fastened on. He took it off to speak to you, a devilish grin on his face “You were totally wild last night, chica. We should definitely do that again.”

“Very funny, Octavio. I almost missed today’s game, can you imagine how much crap we’d be in with the Syndicate if I was?,” you said with a roll of your eyes. He laughed and watched as Elliott, dressed in his yellow Mirage costume, walked up to the two of you.

He’d apparently forgotten to fill you in earlier that he’d been placed in a squad with both you and Octavio today. You mentally grimaced at the thought that Elliott might be present during your big reveal on screen with Octavio. Why did this have to happen to you?

3 minutes till jump.

“Alright! Let’s do this,” Octavio shouted in excitement, jogging on the spot to further emphasise that he was all ready to charge into battle. You waved at Ajay who was teamed up with Makoa and Anita. She pointed at Octavio who was chatting away to Elliott about some new upgrade he’d gotten to his bionic legs and you could just about make out the words Ajay was mouthing. “What’s up with you and Octavio?”

To nail down the point she was trying to make, Ajay started making kissy motions with her hands. You shook your head with a laugh, mouthing back a “No” to her. You stole a glance at Octavio and admired the fancy dark blue and gold outfit he had on today. He’d even gone the extra mile and dyed his hair a matching dark blue. The designer had nicknamed the ensemble Fast Fashion and who better to don it in the Apex Games than the high-speed daredevil himself?

Your eyes paused for just a moment on the part where the bottom layer of his shirt, which was an extremely short crop top, revealed part of Octavio’s upper torso. You found yourself thinking that for such a fast and slender man, he really had well-defined abs.

Before your thoughts could wander any farther however, you heard one of the managers on duty today order the squads to gather closer around the opening in the middle of the dropship. You stepped closer to Octavio and Elliott, feeling a sudden nervousness souring in the pit of your stomach. You’d played in so many of these games before, you weren’t sure why you still got so anxious before the start of a new one.

As if he could sense your emotions, Elliott suddenly grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. “We’re gonna do great, Y/N. I’ll be with you the whole way,” he said reassuringly. You gave his hand a squeeze back and smiled up at him, feeling your cheeks burn. Maybe there really was a chance Elliott had feelings for you.

You could feel Octavio watching you, and it seemed Elliott did too because he quickly let go of your hand. Octavio moved closer to you but didn’t say anything, instead he looked almost annoyed. “You feeling okay, Octavio?,” you asked worriedly.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m great! Let’s get going already!,” Octavio snapped back into his usual hyperactive self, flashing you a wide grin before putting his mask back on. Now you couldn’t see his facial expressions anymore, you felt even more concerned that something was bothering Octavio. But with the announcer counting down from 5 before the squads were to jump from the dropship, you decided that there would be time to worry about this later. You positioned yourself, getting ready to jump as you listened to the announcer.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Welcome back, one and all, to the Apex Games!

#apex legends #apex legends fanfiction #apex legends fanfic #apex legends octane #octane #octavio silva #apex octavio silva #apex legends mirage #mirage apex #apex elliott #fanfiction #fake dating #love triangle

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werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

coming back was a mistake

the reader bonds with kai over their shared dislike of mystic falls

kai parker x fem!reader

word count: 2494

warnings: language, the POV’s are changing

music: poa alpina by biosphere

This damn hole hasn’t changed a bit. The same old story: clean, tongue-licked glowing welcome sign. There we go. Then there will be this turn on the left... oh no, wait, bless, the road has been destroyed. The wooden white bridge connects this part of the highway with the town, and here we go. First houses, Livingstones used to live here, and their son was bullied by literally everyone at school, because he always had stupid haircuts. Word is, he’s dead. Welcome to Mystic Falls, the town where normal people can last up to one year.

Your house was still standing on the 19th November Street, cuddled by dry rose bushes. Apalling. All the other houses on the street have it together. The window sills are freshly painted and the porch is clean, the flowers are watered and cut, and then there’s this fucking outrage of a dwelling where the remains of your family reside.

You had to keep your act together but this town just infuriated you. You couldn’t understand why people would stay here when they could leave right after they’ve turned of age. What kept them? The charming crab-shaped park where everybody stored their dead bodies? The library on the main square where the entitled old lady has been residing for the last 500 years and telling you off for breathing? The blood-red clock tower dinging and donging every damn twenty minutes. No, wait, it must be the staggering fifteen streets. It must be the magic of running into your parents on the Market Street at ten am when you’re supposed to be at school. It’s the neighbors watch, the bored, jaded people’s desire to know everything about everybody. It must be all the supernatural jerks swarming here, killing everybody left and right, acting like their collective age is twenty years old. The fashion in this city has not changed since two thousand and thirteen, either. Nothing did.

The blood-red clock tower was still announcing the midnight hour through the dense hot air, the cars were still disgustingly clean like the citizens had nothing else to do except wash their cars all day long; Damon Salvatore still had the bitch expression on his face, fuming over the next this-just-in ghoul drama, pacing slowly in the living room of his ridiculous, always half-lit mansion with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Stefan was still miserable. Elena’s hair was still golden-black, smooth like a mirror, and you were still mortally tired of all this.

You could feel your negativity fill you up to your throat and eating on you as you drove up to the house and looked at it. The light was on, but nobody came out to meet you.

You were still coming once a year.

You sighed and turned off the engine, then left the car. It’s just a week. Then you can come back home and start pretending you don’t have Mystic Falls past again. The thought of going back home, running back like a rabbit, was what got you through every year.

You walked up the porch. The door wasn’t locked.

He liked this space here. The tenth row, seventeenth seat. He was like a cat, choosing the perfect spot. From here, he could see the clearing between the trees on the other side of the field, where a lady was walking her adorable huskie every evening at eight sharp. The dog was damn smart and the lady wasn’t. Kai had no idea how smart she actually was, she just didn’t look smart. The field below was empty now that it was summer and the eerie hollow feeling gave him a lot of kicks. The place that’s supposed to be full of people, literally made for big gatherings, the seats and all, empty, gave a special vibe. Looking around it, especially at the evening hour, when August was doing its best in the skies, was strangely nice. Nobody saw this side of Kai Parker when he was just sitting quietly, an expression of satisfaction on his face, on his chosen spot, and observed this quiet empty place like a little black king.

He saw somebody and went invisible in a second out of some instinct he couldn’t explain. It’s been some time since his presence caused an outcry of anguish among the party of people... a lot of time, actually. Nowadays, people would just roll their eyes. Don’t care. They’re the losers, living in this boring swamp, fidgeting with their pathetic drama every day. Kai didn’t know how they managed to tolerate themselves. And the hair! Everybody had this inexplicably perfect hair, glistening like they all wore wigs.

Oh my god.

What if they all wear wigs?!

Kai started giggling, thinking about that.

He was now looking at this girl in a crop top that matched the color of her skin. The girls do that, they wear the tops that match their skin which Kai finds very suggestive. Okay, you have all my attention.

Cruising around this unbearable place, he has familiarized with all the faces, and this one was new right away. She started running. You know how people usually jog, without a hurry, with the dumb light-hearted expressions on their faces, and the 90% of them always imagine they’re in some expensive automobile commercial. It helps them jof. This one ran. She did two tours around the field and stopped. Wrong, you’re supposed to walk or else your heart will burst. She stood, her hands on her thighs, her face up, and watched the sky. Kai had no idea why he was hiding from her, but he felt too comfortable now to manifest himself. She was listening to her music in her earphones and looking at the slowly drifting long clouds, and she looked like she was either pissed or very thirsty. Leaning a bit backwards, she just gave him the honors. The ribs were heaving, her stomach breathing for her. Her hand came up to her throat. Kai tried to picture her at the Mystic Grill, or on the main square; whether she looked similar to anybody he’s seen here; he looked at her hands and arms, the way she moved her jaw as if those pretty lilac clouds have done something to her and she was about to get even. She shook her head animalistically, getting rid of some thought. Girl, I know that. You’re trying to shake them all off through your ears, it doesn’t work. He felt for this pretty, collected lady who ran around the track like she was chasing somebody for a murder. Kai liked that kind of interaction the most; when he pretended they had connected. That they had a conversation. When nobody could argue with his illusion they had something in common.

He liked how she had her hair, a bit messy but feminine; the way she looked around dispassionately like she’s had enough of whatever shit she had going on. Like she seemed as if she was a separate entity. Her elbow pointed aside, with some kind of expectation.

Then she gave up. She put on a hoodie she’d thrown onto a first row seat and started walking up slowly. One, two three... four rows... Kai watched her curiously. He never doubted his magic. That’s right, not ever. You know.

But when she passed row nine he tilted his head. She came up to his row and started walking. Now, if she sits right on him, she will feel it. He will, too, and of course he won’t mind, but the girls usually freak out if they try to take a seat somewhere and there’s an invisible dude. Not that Kai had practiced it a lot. He just knew they didn’t like being stalked on. He didn’t really care. He doesn’t know her. If she’s a part of this town, screw her. She’s pretty up close, though, such a nice, frowning face, big eyes. She took the next seat to him and they almost rubbed shoulders. If she took off her earphones she would hear Kai breathe next to her. Instead, he was listening to slow ambient. It went well with the evening sky.

Together, they watched the huskie and the lady run around in the field behind the footbal field. Then she shivered a little in her hoodie. Kai wished he could read her mind when she started crying. When people don’t know they’re being watched, they cry in a very specific fashion. Kai was sure it wasn’t the huskie that upset her; it had something to do with her standing and watching the sky, rubbing her elbows with nervous fingers.

Or maybe she was unhappy with her running time, who gives a fuck.

You were watching this dude. The Grill did not appreciate him the way they should’ve. First of all, he was different breed. People come and go, but the type is always the same. This one was not the type. You had no idea who he was, but he was damn entertaining. Unapologetic singer. Stretching the notes like nobody was watching. Singing for the soul. He enjoyed himself the harder the more confused people looked, throwing awkward glances in his direction. His self esteem was on point as he expressed the ultimate artistic freedom through his bad singing, skipping the words masterfully and changing the melody on a whim. When the song was finally over, nobody clapped, and you felt that truly, he was the underrated artist, the local gem. Where Mystic Falls citizens cared for how others perceive them, he didn’t give a shit about it; while they side eyed their friends judging him silently, he was glowing with self-satisfaction. He was a bad singer, and a bad dancer; he chose an old song nobody knew, and did the finger guns at the DJ as he left the stage. A collective sigh of relief shuddered over the bar; you leaned over the counter, and the bartender nodded at you.

“Pass a cider to that guy. Tell him he saved my evening”.

Jerry was the name of the bartender. He was the new guy, because almost all bar people at the Grill were always human, which meant they died all the time. They all looked exactly the same though, and Jerry was no different from Evan, from seven years ago. Short dark hair, dimples, could star in American Pie. He smirked and nodded again.

The guy has just landed at the counter with a swing. He sighed happily as Jerry put the glass in front of him. You weren’t watching, because you didn’t feel like it; you made the sincere gesture of friendliness, no need to take it further. However, you should’ve known what would happen next. No good deed ever goes unpunished in this world.

You spotted him with the corner of your eye as he approached you, with the cider you ordered for him, and sat next to you.

“Well, that’s not too bad at all...” he started.

You turned to the guy - who looked rather like a boy who got stuck in his post-teenage phase - sharply.

“Please, don’t take it personal. It was not intended that way. It’s just a drink, so, drink it”.

For a second, he just watched you, as if challenging you for more talking. Then he shrugged.

“Somebody’s feeling antisociable today”.

And sipped a little from the glass.

“I usually take cocktails, the sweeter the better, just so you know”.

You sighed. A part of you knew you would regret it. But you still did it. Why? You looked in front of you, meeting your own miserable face in the reflection of the mirror wall behind the bar. The guy kept talking.

“I mean, it’s so nice to start acquiring the fan base, I guess, you can get a lot of things as a rock star. I’ve always wanted to be one”.

“You won’t be a rock star for your singing voice”, you noted.

Drinking alone at the Grill sometimes made you do weird stuff. But it was a tradition.

“Huh? You didn’t like it?”

“I enjoyed how much it confused everybody else”.

The guy expressed an ‘oof’ emotion.

“I’m sensing some xenophobia here. You hate this place, too?”

You didn’t answer. The guy sighed mockingly, as if he was pretending. He sounded like a hyperactive child, and in spite of your very self, you found him relatable.

“I say to myself every day”, he went on, in a slightly more serious voice, “Kai, today you’re leaving Mystic Falls. I’m not in the place where I can tolerate this boredom any more, you know? But this thing... keeps me here. I can’t wait to...”

You blinked and looked at him.

“Kai? Your name is Kai?”

“Uh, yeah”.

He clincked his glass on yours.

“Cheers”.

“What’s it short for?”

He didn’t look too proud saying,

“Malachai”.

You dropped your jaw.

“That is the coolest name I’ve ever heard. Malachai? Seriously?”

He lit up a little bit, straightening his back with praise.

“Yeah”.

“Dude, this is badass. Show me your ID!”

His dark eyes were laughing. You finally took a proper look of him. There was something foreign about him although he spoke very clear American English. It was a different kind of foreign: alien. Given it’s Mystic Falls, stagnating in its own revolving old routine, alien was good even if it was dangerous.

“You wanna see my ID?” he chuckled. He looked down on you with an adoring glint in his eye as though he was admiring something he saw. His reactions were inexplicable.

“Yeah, I wanna see how it’s spelt. Come on, Malachai, it’s so boring here. Show me”.

He sniffed through his nose.

“Okay”.

He had to stand up a little bit to take his ID from the back pocket of his jeans. You looked at it, visualizing his unusual name. Malachai Parker sounded fucking elite. He’s come a long way from Oregon, too. You wondered what he was doing here and was about to ask, but your glance got hooked on the year of birth.

“1972? You were born in...”

Frustration filled you slowly like lake water. Of course, the only interesting, good-looking character who’s fun enough, will be one of the messy freaks, here. You passed the card back to him.

“Are you one of them?”

Malachai didn’t look confused or insecure which further advanced your disappointment.

“What do you mean?” he asked with a grin, playing with you.

“I’m not having this tonight”.

You downed your glass, feeling earthly tired. Like the earth. The Earth, that’s billion of years old, like that.

You stood up to walk away.

“I’m not one of the vampires”, Kai chanted, turning on his seat.

You shrugged.

“Even worse”.

He watched you as you went, his eyes not leaving your back until you were out of the door. Then he realized he still didn’t have your name.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #vampire diaries

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humanmoodring-retired · 3 years

Text

Good Vibrations & Coffee Contemplations || Raina & Nadia

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @rainaim & @humanmoodring SUMMARY: Nadia grabs a coffee. Raina makes a friend. CONTENT: brief parental death mention

Raina leaned against the counter top, bored by the lack of customers. The morning rush had come and gone. Now, only a few coffee connoisseurs trickled in every twenty to forty minutes. Her shift wasn’t going to be over for another hour and a half, and though she knew there was plenty that she could do to pass the time, it was hard to find the encouragement, especially when the overhead speakers had died out and there was nobody with the know-how to fix them. She scrolled through her phone, only looking up at a sudden shadow against the door. A customer! Raina shot up and beamed at the woman as she entered the shop. “Hi! Welcome to Coffee Plus.” She punched in her I.D and waited for the woman to begin her order, finally glad to have something to do that wasn’t scrubbing the burnt muffin tins in the back.

Sometimes, Nadia preferred to just stay in her apartment. Most times, really, if she was being honest. And she was trying to do that more often. But she stayed inside too much, and the days were getting longer, and warmer, and generally more enjoyable. And she liked being warm, and she was thinking too much in her apartment. And… she’d run out of coffee, which meant she needed to go somewhere to get a much needed dose of caffeine. Which was how she ended up at Coffee Plus, hoping that the barista wasn’t that poor girl that she and Sammy had ended up tormenting. It wasn’t, thankfully, just a young woman who went from bored to very, very excited so fast it was like emotional whiplash. Nadia blinked. “Uh, yeah. Can I--” she acted like she was deciding what she wanted when really she already knew. “Can I get a triple shot of espresso.” She needed to not fall asleep for a few more hours, at least. “And, uh, a blueberry muffin.” She guessed that maybe she should probably eat something, too.

As the woman approached the counter, Raina looked past her to see if anybody had followed. Nope, she was alone. Disappointment fell over her for a brief movement before she reapplied the smile and gave her attention back to the woman. She had been hopeful that there’d be more customers to help-- that the remainder of her shift would be spent using up her time, not slugging through wiping down each table until her replacement came in to relieve her. Raina nodded enthusiastically as the woman finally ordered. A triple espresso? That was easy. “Sure thing. Can I get a name--” She looked around. “Never mind. Why don’t you go on and find yourself a seat and I’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready.” She kept her smile as she turned back towards the espresso machine. Raina waited for the filter to drip the espresso into the glass below, humming as she went. She quickly warmed up the muffin and put it on a small, off-white plate. Once the woman’s order was ready, she walked it slowly to the table. “Here you are, hon!” She didn’t know if the woman was older or younger than her, but it didn’t matter-- Southern charm leaked from her candy coated tongue.

There wasn’t really anyone else to focus on as Nadia felt the barista cycle through disappointment and hope and just overwhelming enthusiasm at doing her job. “Uh, yeah, thanks.” Nadia managed a tired smile and went over to a table. She checked her phone for a bit, answering a few text messages and looking over a journal article werewolves in medieval Icelandic literature, which was pretty niche reading, even for her, but some website that she’d been on a few weeks ago kept sending her emails with journal articles attached, and she… kept reading them. She didn’t know how accurate they were, and she doubted that Kaden would give her anything more about werewolves beside the fact that most of them were monsters, but it was still an interesting read, even if the words were a little blurry. She looked up when her coffee was brought to her, her smile lopsided. The younger woman was kind and sincere, and Nadia appreciated it, even if it was a lot. She couldn’t help but return the kindness. “I appreciate you bringing it to me. Really, I could have grabbed it myself.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Raina looked down at the table, realizing she had forgotten a napkin. She held up a finger and returned to the small table next to the door and grabbed a few before she returned to the customer. She placed them down neatly next to the plate and smiled. “Ain’t got much goin’ on anyhow, so I figured I’d up my customer service game.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s too much, isn’t it?” She looked over her shoulder at the clock. Barely a blink had gone by. She frowned slightly. Well, the least she could do was start wiping down the tables so that her replacement didn’t have to. “I’m new here,” Raina said aloud as she grabbed a wet dish rag and disinfecting spray. She moved to a table far, but not too far from the customer. “Just moved here… a couple weeks ago?” She nodded as if in approval of herself. “You from around here?” It was small talk-- not something everyone liked, but Raina was desperate.

It was weird to be treated like it was a sit-down restaurant when it was a coffee shop, Nadia thought, but she didn’t mind. “Well, still. It’s kind of you.” She took a sip of her drink, careful not to gulp it down even though she wanted to. It was hot and bitter, and it didn’t do much to wake her up, but it was the thought of it that counted. “Oh, no, dude. Not a lot at all. It’s really nice, actually.” And it was. The other woman was well-intentioned. Nadia didn’t have to be an empath to tell that. “Yeah,” she asked. She could kind of tell the barista was new, but she didn’t want to point that out. Southern charm wasn’t exactly common in Maine, though. Not with an accent that thick, at least. “How do you like it so far?” She took another sip of her coffee, picked at her muffin. “No, no, I’m from Arizona. I moved here, like, a year and a half ago.” Had it really been that long? It didn’t feel like it had been that long. Then again, it wasn’t like she’d been present the entire time. Nadia suddenly wasn’t that hungry, but she picked at the muffin some more, anyway.

Raina began to wipe down the table and looked over at the woman as she drank her coffee. She watched her expression carefully to see if the coffee was too bitter, too hot, or too cold. It seemed just right by the looks on her face, or lack thereof. She looked back down at the table and decided she was done with her current project and moved onto the next. “It’s good. People keep to ‘emselves mostly, which I don’t mind…” She shrugged. “Everyone’s different, but I do like sayin’ goodmornin, you know?” Raina offered a small smile, “But overall s’great. I’ve got a nice roommate.” Onto the next table. “Arizona?” She hummed, “I’ve never been out West, but I imagine it’s a lot warmer than out here, or even Tennessee.” She scrubbed at a stubborn coffee ring on the table. “So how’re you likin’ it? Any tips for a newbie?” Raina asked, looking up from the now spotless table to look at the customer.

Nadia did her best not to gulp down the bitter liquid as it cooled, eager for something to start taking effect. Maybe it just wouldn’t. Maybe she’d be waiting on the caffeine to kick in for the rest of her life; she’d exhausted it’s usefulness, and now she was to be perpetually tired for forever. Whatever. It was fine. At the very least, chatting with the friendly barista wasn’t at risk of putting her to sleep. “Yeah, totally. I get the wanting a good morning and everything. I’m sure people will start talking more as you get settled. It’s a small town. You’d be surprised how much everybody just… knows everybody.” And they did. It seemed like there was never more than two degrees of separation between her and just about everyone that she met in White Crest. She laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking hot out there. Desert and all, you know? Phoenix isn’t named after a fire bird because it’s temperatures are balmy.” She kept a more lighthearted disposition, adjusting in her seat more comfortably. “You from Tennessee? Uh, I like it well enough. It’s... I like it a lot better than I thought I would.” She’d stuck around, hadn’t she? She had people here, now. And it wasn’t like she could go home. “Tips… tips… Let me think… Don’t fuck with the mimes.”

“I’ve heard lots about small towns,” Raina said as she wiped her brow with the back of her free hand. She continued to scrub at another coffee ring on a different table, this one more stubborn than the last. “Guess I’ll just have to put on my best manners ‘an show everyone that I mean well.” She knew that newcomers could scare others off. That was the last thing she wanted to do. How was she supposed to find other people like her if she ran them off instead before she could even have the discussion? “Ah, right, right.” Raina nodded. “I heard the road melts. The houses, too?” She wasn’t sure if that was true, but she thought she’d seen it on the news. It was hard to tell what was a meme and what was real nowadays. “Sure am. Born and raised in Knoxville. Big enough place that not everyone is in your business, but small enough to meet someone’s family member twice removed on a trip to the grocery store.” Not that she ever had that problem. Her family wasn’t from Knoxville. A pang of homesickness hit her and she took a deep breath before moving onto the next table. “Mimes?” She laughed. She’d seen the warnings online, but wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Tell me, they hurt people with their fake boxes and goin’ downstairs routines?”

“I believe in you,” Nadia said, and she did. The woman in front of her seemed endlessly pleasant and kind. Nadia could feel it. She laughed. She felt lighter. It was easier to eat some of the muffin, the food not sticking in her throat as bad. “Nah, the roads and the houses don’t melt. Though, I’ve cooked eggs on the sidewalk before. Knoxville sounds nice, though. Phoenix is one of the biggest cities in the country. Sometimes, I didn’t even recognize my neighbors. Of course, I kept to myself a lot.” In college, the only person she’d really talked to was her roommate, Brooke, and whoever Brooke dragged in and out of her life. And that had been nice, and the thoughts of it hurt her less, now. She could remember them with fondness without the bitterness, even if questions would always linger. “Dolly Parton from anywhere near there?” she asked, genuinely curious. She didn’t know shit about Tennessee. She raised an eyebrow, and kept her tone light. She fucking hated the mimes, but it was best not to come off too strong. “Nah, they’ll just shoot you.”

Raina was glad that the customer-- no, the woman! She was her own person, not just somebody who was feeding into the capitalistic society (or coffee culture). She raised a brow. “Oh, really? I swear I thought houses melted…” Raina shrugged, “Guess I was wrong. Interesting about the egg thing. You didn’t eat ‘em, did ya?” Even if the woman had, Raina wouldn’t judge. “I guess that’s one story to tell to people.” Raina finally knocked out the stain and moved to the next table, which was closest to where the woman sat. The table offered little resistance to her cleaning efforts. She set the rag down for a moment once the customer asked about Dolly Parton. “Oh, yes.” She let out a laugh. “Even if you ain’t a Dolly Parton fan, you’re a Dolly fan in Tennessee.” Her own mother who’d sworn off country music even listened to her. The older Raina got, the more she felt like she could appreciate the woman, too. “Are you a fan?” She asked with a smile. Raina picked the rag back up and moved onto the next table. “Shoot you, huh?” She hummed, “well I’ll keep that in mind.” She wasn’t sure if the woman was being truthful or not. Maybe she was. Raina straightened up after she had cleaned every table but the one the woman was sitting at. “You don’t mind me askin’ your name, do you? Feels weird to think of you as someone I’m servin’ coffee when we’re havin’ such a nice conversation ‘an all.”

“We’ve gotten pretty good about building our houses with materials that don’t melt,” Nadia explained. “It wouldn’t do to have melted houses everytime the thermostat hits Fahrenheit 451. Okay, not really. More like Fahrenheit 115. When it’s, like, fucking miserable out.” So hot that heat came off the ground in waves. So hot that it was impossible to go outside without shoes on. Nadia missed the heat, but, damn, it was dangerous. Still didn’t melt houses, though. Not that she’d been aware of, at least. “I mean, I put them in a pan, and it was really just to see if it could happen. My roommate at the time ate them, though. She said I should have added more pepper.” And not cooked them in the sun, but, hey. It was a fun experiment between two people that weren’t particularly scientifically inclined. She grinned, enjoying the other woman’s lightheartedness. “Makes sense. You know, I’m more of a rock kinda gal, but I think it’s a fucking sin not to be a fan of Dolly, you know?” She could feel the other woman’s skepticism, and Nadia sighed. She rolled up her sleeve, exposing the scar from when her doppleganger mime had shot her last year. “They like to shoot people, too, apparently.” She put her sleeve back down and gave a wry grin. “My name’s Nadia. And you? I’d hate to keep referring to you as the super chill barista in my head, too.”

Raina leaned against the neighboring table, wincing slightly as it began to make a small screeching noise from her weight as it moved against the floor. “Sorry ‘bout that.” She pulled it back into its original spot and stood up straight. “That sounds downright miserable. Now I know y’all have dry heat as opposed to humidity… not sure which I’d rather battle.” Maybe one day she’d be able to figure out how to pull water right out of the air. Maybe when her magic was stronger. When she was stronger. She wouldn’t be able to do that in a place like Arizona, she realized. Yeah, definitely not moving out west anytime soon-- at least, not to any deserts. “Well, I guess that brings a new meaning to the term sunny side up, don’t it?” She flashed the woman a smile before she folded the rag in on itself. “I’ll be honest, I don’t listen to much music. When I do, it’s all Top 40.” She cracked an embarrassed smile. “Mostly ‘cause I listen to a lot of what my momma and daddy did, you know?” she looked down at her feet. It’d been awhile since she’d listened to her mom sing trot, or since she’d watch her dad play out the drum solos in the air from Phil Collins’ greatest hits album. She felt a sudden wave of sadness. Raina cleared her throat, immediately eradicating the feeling. It was fleeting, but there was a heaviness in her chest. “Oh, you’re tellin me--” She was pulled from her thoughts as she was shown the scar on her arm. She blinked a few times, trying to understand why a mime could ever want to do that before she looked up to meet Nadia’s eyes. “Oh! Nadia!” She smiled at her descriptor being a super chill barista, even if she couldn’t take her eyes off of the scar. “M’name is Raina!” She looked down at her nametag, which she only now noticed was missing. “Nadia’s a pretty name,” She sounded it out again, “Sounds like you should be in some storybook, I dunno.” She cracked a smile, though the stab wound was still on her mind.

“Personally, I always preferred the dry heat. Easier to breathe, that way,” Nadia said. Though… Maine’s humidity and more temperate climate was growing on her. Maybe it had more to do with the people than the place, though. White Crest? She could take it or leave it. It was as fascinating to live in as it was dangerous, two sides to the same coin. She laughed at the joke, genuinely pleased by the pun. “Totally new meaning to sunny side up, for sure.” She took a bite of her muffin, chased it with a sip of coffee. She was enjoying this, genuinely. She needed to get out more, Nadia realized. At the very least so that she could have interactions like this, something that wasn’t all in her head. Her head wasn’t the most fun place to be, sometimes. “Nothing wrong with listening to the popular stuff. It’s popular for a reason, you know?” There was a wave of sadness that followed that, though, in the aftermath of the other woman mentioning her mother and father, and it caused Nadia to think of her own parents. Their disdain for her. The way her mother had told her to never call back or she’d tell the cops. She managed a smile, though, as they rocketed through another few waves of emotions, of confusement and happiness, and concerne. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to show off the scar, but it’d been what she’d done in the moment. Live and learn. Not everyone was as fascinated in scars as others. “Nice to meet you, Raina.” She laughed. “I don’t know about a storybook.” Maybe a horror movie. “I did study a lot of folklore and fairytales in college, though.”

Raina tried to push the scar from her mind. It was silly to focus on something like that. Yes, maybe Nadia had been attacked by an angry mime, but that didn’t mean they were all bad. Her altercation with the thing in the alleyway alongside Irene sent shivers down her spine and she decided to push the thought of mimes, or mime-esque things far from her mind. Maybe it was for the better, the witch thought-- the warnings that these individuals came in tow with. “Well,” The brunette laughed, “see! You’re already part of the way there!” Raina looked down at the chair across from Nadia and contemplated slipping into it, but decided against it at the last moment. Instead, she busied herself with scrubbing another table. Maybe she had missed something. It wasn’t polite to bother customers as long as she had been. “I went to school for art. One of our projects was to illustrate a children’s book…” She lazily dragged the rag against the tabletop, “that mighta gone mighty well with whatever you were studyin!” She grinned at her before folding the rag up again. She was having a nice time talking to Nadia. It wasn’t often that the patrons who came into Coffee Plus humored her with conversation. If they did, they were usually overtly rude. “Which one’s your favorite?” Raina asked as an afterthought, shuffling between the chairs as she went back to the counter to put the rag in the bin and wash her hands.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Studying the Tuatha De Danann practically makes me a Disney princess,” Nadia said, but there was no bite to her words, and she smiled as she said them. She looked at Raina, at the way she’d hesitated near the chair across from Nadia, contemplating something (sitting, probably), before she decided against it and started back to her work. “Art, huh? That sounds nice. What kind of children’s book did you illustrate?” She laughed. “I don’t know how well it would have gone with some of my research, though, unfortunately. Not children’s illustrations, at least. Sometimes fairytales aren’t as gentle as cartoons want you to believe.” This town was proof of that, too. “Favorite?” she murmured. “Damn, I think I was asked that recently, too… It’s hard to choose. Like picking a favorite kid or something.” She thought about it again. “There’s a story called ‘East of the Sun, West of the Moon.’ It’s Norwegian. Kind of like ‘Beauty and the Beast’ or the myth of Cupid and Psyche. There’s a prince in disguise, and trials, and a happy ending. Sometimes those are kind of rare, surprisingly. It’s good, though. A different take on the usual.” Watching as the other woman went and washed her hands, Nadia waited for her to look back up before she toed at the chair across from her, pushing it away from the table. “You know, if you wanna sit, at least until someone else comes in, I wouldn’t mind the company.” The other woman was nice to be around. Her emotions were nice, pleasant. “I don’t suppose you’re also interested in obscure fairytales?”

Raina smiled at the woman from across the way and scrubbed the soap in between her fingers. The witch wrinkled her nose as the citrus-y scent lifted to her nostrils. “It was a project of sorts. We all got a few pages, then it was compiled into this bigger book kinda thing.” She smiled fondly as she recalled said project. She had included her little family, including her aunt, as background characters. She still had a copy of the book back at her apartment-- unable to part with it prior to her move to White Crest. “Well, of ‘course not. It ain’t all butterflies, but I think that’s what makes ‘em interesting. Ain’t about bein black ‘n white, but it’s nice when they have happy endings.” She remembered playing princess of the castle with her father-- cardboard boxes made into extravagant towers, her stuffed animals being that of her subjects. Raina decided not to focus on the sadness that was eager to sweep through her at the memory. No, she’d remember those moments for what they were. “That sounds good, I’ll have to look it up.” She meant it when she said it. She tucked it away for later, deciding that once Nadia left, she’d get on her phone and do her own research. Finally, she turned the water off and dried her hands on a clean towel. When Nadia offered the chair across from her, she let her smile grow a little wider. “Wasn’t sure if you’d get all weirded out by your barista tryna kick it with you or not.” Raina crossed the distance between them and delicately placed herself into the chair, doing her best to avoid smacking limbs against either the chair or the table. “Not so much obscure as just havin’ really been into princesses and all that while growin’ up,” Raina admitted with a laugh. She folded her hands in her lap and thought for a moment, “I only really liked it when good things happened, but there were a few that are… a little more sinister that my mama would tell me.” The fond smile stayed pinned to her features as she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I know a few Korean ones, too.”

“That sounds kinda fun, an illustration project,” Nadia said. “Gotta admit, most of the stuff I remember doing were less projects and more papers. Buncha shit on, like, meaning and theme and literary analysis. I can dissect a sentence in a poem and tell you what I think the author’s trying to convey with punctuation, but I can’t draw stick figures to save my life.” Handwriting? Sure, hers was decent when she didn’t rush it. Art just wasn’t her thing. Nadia could appreciate it, though. “You’re right, of course. I’ve been bigger into the happy endings, lately. Kinda dig them, actually.” Nadia could use a few more happy endings in her life. Monster gets vanquished, protagonist gets peace. She liked that. She kind of wanted that. “You’ll have to tell me what you think of it.” She smiled, pleased when Raina sat down in front of her. She liked being able to have a nice conversation. “Trust me, nothing weird about having good company. But, yeah, I really like princesses when I was little, too. Though, I also had an unhealthy obsession with the Brothers Grimm. Kinda dark, not really for children. I liked them, though.” She’d like a lot of things she probably shouldn’t have. Nadia’s smile echoed Raina’s. “Yeah? I read the ones my ma didn’t tell me.” And she was interested, leaning forward, eyes bright. “Really? Any you’d be interested in sharing?”

Raina had her fair share of papers, too. She never liked them much, the words always getting jumbled. She’d never been much of a reader, more of a listener. “Sounds like you had your work cut out for you,” The witch smiled. “Writin’ all those papers and whatnot.” She shook her head. “Glad I don’t ever hav’ta look at another report again-- not workin’ here, at least.” She hummed at Nadia’s admission of not being able to draw. “I know you probably get this a lot, but it just takes a bit of practice. Anythin’ is art if you really want it to be.” She should’ve made herself her one of three free drinks. She decided she’d do it later once Nadia had left. “Brothers Grimm?” She tilted her head to the side, “I sometimes forget that Disney really just walked on in and ripped the stories from their original aspects ‘an made everything flowery.” Raina twiddled her thumbs, “but I s’pose that’s what a general audience wants, y’know?” She didn’t know much about what people wanted, but she did know that Tangled was one of her favorite Disney films while the actual story of Rumpelstiltskin was terrifying. Nadia’s interest made Raina’s ears burn. What if she recalled them wrong? It’d been so long since she’d heard them, or read them. She cleared her throat. “Well, there’s one ‘bout a fox, ‘bout how a family wanted-- or, more specifically, a father wanted a daughter, even if she was a fox.” She thought for a moment, doing her best to recall the details of the story her mother had told her, “They got a girl, but in the night, their livestock would start goin’ missing… and each time a brother would go out and report her to their father.” She tapped her fingers, tracing out the words her mother had said to her on the back of her hand as she tried to pull the story from memory, “And each time, the father’d kick the boys out and say it wasn’t happenin. Finally, a few years had passed ‘an two of the brothers came back ‘round… only to find that their family was gone. All but the sister. She ended up eatin’ her brothers, claimin’ that it’d make her human.” She nodded, “I think that was all of it-- I might’ve missed a few points, seein’ as I haven’t heard it in awhile.” She let out a soft laugh. “Pretty gruesome, I think.”

“It was interesting, for sure,” Nadia said. “I always kind of liked writing papers. I like words, language, the way that sentences flow when time and care is taken to putting them together. I’m, like, a lot better at writing than I am talking.” She laughed. “I don’t know, you’ve got to write down people’s orders, right? I bet that, for some people, that’s practically a research paper in length. Four pumps of vanilla, three pumps of caramel, two packets of Splenda, whipped cream on the side, shake, not stirred. All that shit.” She’d been told plenty of times that she just had to practice to get better at drawing, but she… didn’t have the patience for it. Or maybe she didn’t and just didn’t want to apply herself. “I might just, like, stick to writing, maybe. I’m sure you’re much better at the whole visual art thing. But yeah! The Brothers Grimm kind of gathered and compiled a lot of fairytales that we know of today. Snow White, Rapunzel. Sleeping Beauty. They compiled them together in a collection of several hundred ‘household’ tales. They weren’t really for children, though.” They were warnings, a lot of them, stories to keep people in line, stories to tell how things became the way that they are. Nadia listened with interest as Raina told her tale, remembering the details and filing them away for later. “Sometimes, there doesn’t really seem to be a point to stories. If I remember correctly, there was a story about a young girl that was being chased by a witch and got turned into a lake somehow. From what I remember, the witch ended up drinking her. For the life of me, I can’t remember the moral of that one. Grim and gruesome seems to be the way a lot of folk tales go.”

Raina was grateful for storytelling. It brought people together. At least, for the most part it did. She had to look at the conversation that she and Nadia were now having because of this. It made her feel good that she had successfully gotten somebody to speak to her for longer than two minutes. She knew that her too-sweet optimism could be a lot for most people, and though for the most part Raina was actually shy, those were moments where she knew she was being looked down upon. When it came to people who actually wanted something to do with her, she flourished. “Rapunzel, I think-- I really liked that one.” She smoothed her apron down as it curved around her knees. “Not a huge fan of the original though, too... “ Her expression pinched, “much, I think.” She looked towards the door as a customer shouldered through and looked at the counter, their face screwed in confusion. “Ah, dang. Looks like we’re cuttin’ short.” She looked at Nadia with a small smile before getting out of her seat. “Stick ‘round, if you want. Or, I mean-- Only if you want, no pressure or nothin’, just been lovely talkin’ to the not-so-locals, but also locals, y’know?” She hurried toward the counter and began to take the customer’s order, feeling light on her feet. Maybe everything that had happened in White Crest so far had led her to moments with those she might be able to consider friends, or at the very least, people who’d sit down and have a chat.

#chatzy: raina im #good vibrations and coffee contemplations #parental death tw

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