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lilacmoon83 · 4 years

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Clarity

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 2: Reality

Snow slowly opened her eyes and looked around the cabin. She gasped, as it all came rushing back to her and she covered her unclothed body with the blanket.

Was it real? Did they really remember? Had all of that just happened last night?

As if sensing her thoughts, he opened his eyes and experienced a similar rush of memories.

"Snow?" he whispered and a smile eclipsed her face.

"We still remember…" she said, as they hugged and their lips met again, but she pulled away.

"The storm is over...people are probably looking for us," she realized.

"Yeah...back to reality…" he said sadly.

"David…" she started to say, but he shook his head.

"I'm leaving her, Snow...I know it will be messy, but I can't pretend to be with her. I can't now...I need you," he insisted. She smiled.

"I need you too...it's just going to be a mess," she lamented.

"If you'd rather I just leave and stay away...I'll do it. I'll hate it...but I'll do it for you. Then people will just hate me for leaving Kathryn, but I'd rather they not hate you too," he said. But she shook her head.

"No...we're going to do this together," she insisted, as she kissed him again.

"I spent twenty-eight years without you and I'm not spending one more day that way. I don't care if the whole town hates us," she said. He sighed.

"They're going to...our own daughter is going to hate me too," he reminded her. But she shook her head.

"Not for long, I promise. She's going to see the man you are...the man I love," she promised.

"I hope so, because she's already seen David Nolan and she doesn't like him. Now she's going to see the David Nolan that leaves his "wife" and shacks up with her best friend," he lamented. But she kissed his cheek.

"I promise it won't last long...she'll understand eventually when she knows the truth," Snow said, but he knew that was wishful thinking on her part. There was a very real chance that Emma could end up hating them both.

"There is one person that won't hate you though...besides me," she mentioned.

"Really?" he asked playfully.

"Henry…" she replied, as she looked in his eyes.

"Henry…" he said, as his eyes widened and she nodded.

"Oh my God...we're grandparents," he realized, making her laugh.

"And our grandson is being raised by the Evil Queen," she added, a little sourly.

"Do you think Regina knows?" he asked and she shrugged.

"I don't know," she replied thoughtfully and he sighed.

"I guess we better go get this ugly part over with then," he muttered, but it was early and she wasn't ready to go anywhere just yet.

"Mmm...not yet," she said, as she gathered the blankets around her body and straddled his lap. He swallowed thickly and stared at her with awe and love.

"They can wait a little longer...I've been waiting twenty-eight years to be held by you again...and I need you more," she insisted. He smirked and he gave her a smoldering gaze that made her shiver. Shy, unassuming Mary Margaret Blanchard was definitely gone and so was confused, uncertain David Nolan. In some ways, navigating a cursed Storybrooke as Snow and Charming would be more difficult than they were probably ready for, but they were not sad to see their cursed personas go.

"You have me, my darling. Nothing is ever separating us again. I know it's going to be hard, but we're going to beat her...Regina. We're going to get everything we lost back," he promised.

"I told her...the night she cast the curse, when I was holding you in my arms and never knowing if I'd see you open your eyes again," she said, as she choked back a sob.

"I told her she was going to lose...but I wasn't sure I believed it myself. Until now," she confessed, as she sniffed. He smiled at her and pulled her closer so she was flush against him.

"Believe it, my darling...because I'll not let her separate us again," he promised, as their lips crashed together again and she moaned into his kiss, as he sank into her once again.

She gently rocked against him in his lap and he gripped her hips to help her ride him. Their breathing was ragged and impassioned, as they made love again. As he thrust deeply into her again and again, he kissed her neck and she lost herself in him, as she raked her nails along his back.

"Charming…" she whimpered, as she neared her climax again. Gods...no one could make her feel the things she was feeling like he could.

"So beautiful…" he rasped, as he thrust hard into her and she cried out for him.

"Snow…" he cried, as they both came together and their lips met again, as they rode their orgasms together too, before finally collapsing to the floor in a tangled heap of limbs.

"Oh Gods...I'm going to kill the Queen for taking you away…" Snow managed to say and he smirked, as he kissed her hair.

"Well...we're about to get a lot of hate thrown our way, so at least we have this," he said. She kissed his neck and cuddled against him.

"With you though...I feel like I can face anything. Even this," she said. He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Me too," he agreed.

~*~

Once the storm cleared, reality set in and they were forced to return to town to face these new days as themselves, which they knew would be more difficult than when they were cursed and didn't know the truth.

Emma had twenty questions for her, especially when she learned that she had been stranded alone in a cabin with David Nolan. Snow wanted to break down in sobs and tell her daughter how sorry she was for the hard life she had been forced to live, because of the curse. She was Emma's friend now, but she knew that dynamic might change when her daughter learned the truth.

Despite Emma's questioning, things were fairly quiet, but she knew that was about to change when she opened her door to find her husband there with a red hand mark on his face. She whimpered and pulled him inside by the arm. He couldn't help it and sought comfort in her. Not that she could or would ever resist and she felt a little of the stress ebb away, as he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately. As their lips parted, they pressed their foreheads together and allowed themselves just a few quiet seconds to drink each other in.

"I take it that she did not take it well," she stated. He shook his head.

"I told her that it was a mistake for us to stay together and that we were just going through the motions. She actually agreed with that part...until she asked if this also had something to do with you, or Mary Margaret rather," he said. She swallowed thickly. He shrugged.

"I told her the truth...I told her that I was in love with you. I...I couldn't lie about that," he said, as he gently caressed her face.

"No...it's better you didn't, especially since she obviously already suspected," she replied, as he hugged her and scoffed.

"Well...it's not like I'm good at hiding my feelings for you," he said, as he pulled back.

"But I think this is going to be bad. We're going to get a lot of hate thrown our way and I'm worried that people will take it out on you in Kathryn's behalf," he lamented.

"I know...this is going to be really hard, harder than we thought, but being without even longer than I already have...would be harder," she said.

"Yeah...I got a room at Granny's for now and I'm sure news that we're getting a divorce is all over town by now, so I better go," he replied, but she caught his hand.

"Emma is working the night shift...not yet…" she said.

"I need you," she whimpered and with that, he almost tackled her with a kiss, while gently lifting her off the floor. She was sure people had seen him go into her building and when he didn't come out for hours, that would only fuel the fire, but she didn't give a damn at the moment.

He carried her to the bed behind the curtain and kissed her deeply, as they started undressing each other. Their lips parted briefly so she could frantically undo the buttons on his shirt. Once it was off, she peeled his undershirt off him completely, as he kissed her again with his hands gripping her hips. He pushed her cardigan off her shoulders and whipped her around so he could unzip her dress. He parted the fabric and his skillful hands pushed it to the floor, making it a puddle at her feet. She thrilled, as he kissed her bare shoulder and his hands cupped her breasts. She moaned, as she felt his arousal pressing against her rear.

"Charming…" she cried in a breathy whisper. He turned her again and captured her lips in another smoldering kiss, as he backed her toward the bed. She fell to the bed and made quick work of his belt, as her nimble fingers unbuttoned his jeans. She unzipped them and shoved them down his long legs. He kicked them again and climbed onto the bed with her. She moaned, as he kissed her throat and then at the tops of her breasts, as he snapped the clasp on her bra.

"So beautiful…" he rasped, as he buried his face in her chest and she showed him that Snow had banished shy Mary Margaret to the back of her mind by reversing their positions and straddling his waist.

She put her small hand around his length and watched him nearly come apart under her desire-lidded eyes. How she had managed to forget him was still a mystery to her, but perhaps that was a blessing, for having her memories and living without him for twenty-eight years would have been a far greater curse. Or punishment, as Regina saw it. That made her wonder how much Regina even understood about her curse. Of course, then Regina knew if she had her memories, nothing would have stopped her from waking Charming much earlier and then trying to escape town to find Emma. So perhaps she understood it all too well. She had been perfectly malleable and un-threatening as Mary Margaret Blanchard, fifth grade school teacher.

Being awake though in a town that still didn't remember anything would be challenging. They were about to become the town pariahs. They were about to be called terrible names and be the gossip on everyone's lips. Regina wouldn't stand for this defiance. She'd used public opinion to destroy them; Snow knew her well enough to know that.

She had tried such when Snow was just a girl. She had tried to put the pressure of fixing the problem that some villagers were having with bandits robbing them blind on her young shoulders. In the beginning, she had looked like just another inept, young royal that had no clue as to how to run a Kingdom. But she had risen above Regina's challenge and fixed the problem, all while learning to wield her future weapon of choice.

Now, she would do the same, but this wouldn't be the traditional type of battle that they had faced before. It was not going to be easy, but moments like this, being with him like this, would make it all worth it.

"Snow…" he breathed, as she sank onto him, taking him inside her body and she paused for a moment, just to let the feeling of their joining and then she slowly began rocking on him. He propped himself up on his elbows, so he could kiss her, while she rode him. Snow felt her climax building in her core, as she drove him into her body, again and again. Her body thrilled, as he killed her throat and her breasts, while gripping her hips and helping move along his cock.

"Charming…" she cried, as she came and he held her through it, coming with her shortly after. They collapsed together to the bed and lay there, foreheads pressed together, as they came down.

"I don't you to go...I don't ever want you to go," she whimpered. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then her lips tenderly.

"I don't want to either...and I'll stay as long as I can," he promised.

"No...stay forever. I'll explain it to Emma," she pleaded.

"I'd love that, but Emma's not ready to trust me. I can't and I won't come between the two of you," he insisted. Her heart sank, but she knew he was right. Alienating their daughter was the last thing she wanted to do. She couldn't have them both right now, at least not in the way she wanted. This was going to be harder than she thought.

"We still have some time," she said softly. He smiled and kissed her again.

"Yes, we do," he agreed, as their lips met again and their passion consumed them once more...

~*~

Regina tossed the photos down on her desk, as Sidney stood there as the bearer of the evidence.

"It's all over town already...David Nolan left his wife and obviously has already moved on," Sidney said.

"I'm aware," she snapped.

"The pictures are worth a thousand words," she added, as she glared at the photos.

"So...what now?" he asked. She smirked.

"You publish a scathing article about them and their scandalous love affair. The town's opinion of them will do the rest," she replied.

"They can be together all they want, but they'll be the most hated pair in town. We'll see how that love of theirs weathers the storm of public opinion and shunning," she said. He nodded.

"I'll have it ready for the morning edition," he replied.

"You defy me...then you better hope you can survive the storm," she murmured.

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Emma Swan #Regina Mills #AU #A 7x15 am AU #romance #family #adventure #Clarity

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timelordthirteen · 5 years

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Killing Time 13/?

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Present Day: Rogers makes a major break in the case, while Weaver and Belle almost make a major break in their relationship.

Notes: Please don't hate Rogers, the man is just doing his job. ;) For the Writer's Month prompt #25: flowers. Also for the August smut prompt at @a-monthly-rumbelling "I'm not going to stop until you come."

Warnings: Please see AO3 for complete warnings and tags.The only updated tags are for the smut.

[AO3] Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

Detective Rogers leaned back in his chair and scowled across the table.

After requesting to speak to an officer, Nick Branson had been jerking him around for the last forty minutes. At first it seemed like he was ready to talk about the things his brother had done, but then all he would say were things they already knew about the case. There was something unnerving about Branson. He could be charming and calm one minute, talking about baseball - he was a long suffering Mariners fan - and the next he would be an entirely different person.

His eyes were the first thing that changed, darkening ever so slightly. Then his body moved, shoulders squaring, back straightening, as the way he held himself hardened. His hands folded in front of him, almost casually, as if the cuffs weren’t there at all. His gaze was unnerving, and Rogers shifted in his seat.

“Look, I’m tired of playing games,” Rogers said, shaking his head. “Tell us what Jack did. What you did. Or you can sit in your cell until trial. We have enough evidence to bury both of you.”

He pushed back from the table, anxious to get away from the penetrating stare of a multiple murderer, as Branson leaned forward and slammed his fists down, the chain connecting his cuffs rattling. “I told that other detective! Go. Find. Eloise. Gardener!”

“That’s a dead end, mate,” Rogers said, standing up and trying to remain impassive even as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “Detective Weaver found your bullshit empty lot.”

Nick sat back in the chair and laughed. It was a jarring, abrasive sound, and Rogers cringed internally. “Yeah,” he said, his voice dropping. “She’s good at hiding.”

Rogers barely suppressed a shiver and turned to leave, reaching the door in three long strides. Branson called out to him as he pulled it open.

“If you do find her,” Nick said, the grin in his voice making Rogers’ stomach turn. “You should bring her some flowers.”

Rogers turned, frowning. Branson met his eyes with a dead-eyed stare and a smile that was flat and showed too many teeth. “She likes daisies.”

For the first time in weeks, Belle didn’t feel tired when she awoke.

She felt like every tear she had soaked into Weaver’s shirt the night before. For the first time in a long time they were open and honest with each other, laying things bare without it turning into a shouting match or a regretful fuck. He held her until she fell asleep, laying on his back with her curled into his side, and they’d stayed like that the entire night.

He reaffirmed that he still loved her, not in words, but in how honest and patient he’d been with her. Even when he’d wanted to take back what he’d said, she wouldn’t let him. A part of her was able to admit she still loved him too, even if she wasn’t able to say it out loud. Things had gotten so bad before that she hadn’t been sure what to do. He wouldn’t talk to her, not the way she wanted or needed him to, and divorce seemed like the one thing that might shock him into action.

Instead it made him resigned.

When he gave her the papers back, she hadn’t known what to think. It took her three days a bottle of wine to sign her half. It felt like giving up, but it was easy to pretend she had moved on when she didn’t have to see him every day. When he walked into that conference room twelve weeks ago, it was like yanking the bandage off an open wound.

Surprisingly, they worked well together, able to put aside old hurts for the greater good of putting a killer - now two killers - behind bars. She had forgotten how much she missed it, how they complimented each other’s styles, how it was easier to see the pieces fit together when Ian was by her side.

Sighing, she stretched her legs, feeling her skin slide over Ian’s, and she smiled.

“Morning,” came his sleepy voice. “You okay?”

She nodded, not wanting to break the peaceful cocoon they had made for themselves. “Thank you. For last night.”

“S’no matter.” He flexed his shoulders and exhaled. It hadn’t taken him long to fall asleep once she settled, and it seemed neither of them had strayed far during the night.

“At least I didn’t try to jump you this morning,” she said, keeping her eyes on her hand where it laid over his chest.

She felt his quiet laugh. “I’m not sure I’d stop you the next time.”

At that, Belle swallowed. She knew he was half joking, but it was another reminder of all their recent regrets. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said finally, lifting her head to catch his warm gaze.

He gave her a crooked grin. “I think we’re passed that now.”

She gave him a look, but couldn’t hold it and let out a short, soft laugh as her head dropped. Then she felt his fingers push into her hair, gently stroking it back from her face, and she looked up again.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she managed. Then she sighed. “I mean no, but - I’m better than I was.”

His mouth curved slightly. He knew she wasn’t completely okay, no one could be after everything she’d been through, but knowing that things had improved soothed his worry. There was a tension in her still, and under previous circumstances he would have known exactly what she needed to let it go. He wasn’t sure that would be welcome, in spite of her jokes.

“Anything I can do?” he asked.

There was, but she wasn’t sure she could ask that of him. She’d never intended to let things escalate between them before, or to turn around and break his heart again and again. Last night had been a good start, but they needed to talk about so much more before they could move forward.

“Hey...”

Belle blinked, her vision blurring slightly as she let him draw her up. He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, and she bit her lip.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said. “Whatever you need.”

She reached up to cup his face and settled on the pillow next to him. “I just want to forget. I don’t - I don’t want to think. About anything.”

“Okay.” He let his hand move to the back of her head, cradling it gently as he leaned.

It was slow to begin, almost tentative, as they traded soft touches and presses of lips, but then she pulled back and met his eyes. “Help me forget?”

Then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her gently and pushing her lips apart. His tongue dipped inside, coaxing hers into play with teasing flicks. She felt her mind calm as a new tension settled in her belly and tilted her head. The kiss grew messy, his tongue stroking roughly against hers as she slid her hands in his short hair, holding him close. He put one hand on the bed near her hip as he pushed up, half covering her with his body.

The feeling of him pressing down on her made her skin flush with heat and arch against him. His mouth moved to her neck, and she turned her head it to give him more access, gasping as he nipped softly at her pulse point. This was what she needed, to feel the building, blinding pleasure, to break from it and be left limp and sated. It wasn’t without complications later, but for a short time there would be no more unhappy thoughts, no flashes of violence or blood, no startling over a sound or a shadow. Just Ian’s warm body, his hands and lips making her forget everything.

Weaver pressed a leg between her thighs, and she gave a breathy little cry that had him sucking harder on her neck.

“Yes,” Belle gasped, encouraging him with the scrape of her nails over his scalp.

Her hips jerked, sliding her further up his thigh, and she loved the way that felt. He was strong and lean, warm and soft in all the right places. She wanted him to touch her more, and she wiggled against him, hoping he’d get the message.

A hand slipped up her side, thumb stroking teasingly beneath her breast, but that wasn’t enough.

“Ian,” she whined, reaching down to grab his hand and guide it up under her shirt.

His hand went willingly, and reached around to grab her ass and pull her tighter against his leg. She rocked her hips into him again, and his fingers moved under her thigh hiking one leg up higher. His cock was a hard ridge, pressing the front of his boxers against her, and she ground against it, rubbing her damp panties along it, desperate for more friction, more pleasure, more anything.

Her head tilted and she bit at his jaw, following it with a wet kiss. “More,” she panted. “Please.”

He pulled back, smirking, and watching as her eyelids fluttered with every jut of her hips. He let go of her leg and brought his hand up under her shirt to cup her bare breast. She pressed towards him, and he gave her a light squeeze followed by a taunting brush of his thumb over her nipple. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she let out a tiny, desperate whimper.

He rubbed and rubbed, and then switched to gentle pinches, pebbling the bud further until finally he gave it one sharp tug, making her cry out. His hand moved down to her hip again, and then he took the same nipple in his mouth, sucking it through her shirt. She clawed at his back, moans and soft sounds slipping out of her as he grazed it with his teeth.

She begged him with his name, and he looked up, feeling a pulsing throb in his cock at the sight of her writhing beneath him. It was all he’d wanted for months, to see her losing herself in pleasure again, in him.

“Please...” she said again, her voice barely a whisper.

Then Weaver bent his head, bringing his mouth to her ear. “I’m not going to stop until you come.”

Rogers stood at the gate to the empty lot with his hands on his hips.

He looked up and down the street, and frowned, wondering what the fuck he thought he was doing here. There had been something in what Nick Branson said, about how ‘she was good at hiding’ that bothered him. Detective Weaver had been to the same location months ago, and then spent extra hours tracking down real estate, tax, and zoning records to try to find a connection between Branson and the address of the vacant lot.

It was zoned commercial, and at one time there had been an office building a parking garage on the site. The owner sold it in the 80s, and slowly, over the years, as the neighborhood around it shifted to more residential, the occupants moved on to other locations. In 2014, a fire in the building, caused by old electrical issues, brought on enough structural problems that the building began to separate from the parking garage. The entire thing became so unstable that the city had to tear it down.

A few years later, there was a local effort to turn it into a community garden. That lasted barely a year before it fell into disuse. A few raised beds remained from that endeavor, though they were overgrown with weeds and the wood was mostly rotten.

Rogers pushed the gate open, wincing at the harsh squeak of the corroded metal. His boots scuffed against the barren ground as he walked the perimeter, and he started to feel like this was a complete waste of time. It wasn’t likely that he would find something here that Weaver had missed, especially since all he had to go on where the cryptic ramblings of a serial killer.

He shook his head and scowled, kicking at a large rock. It bounced over the scrubby grass and hit the chainlink fence, rattling it. He blew out a breath and turned to go, but stopped when he spied something in the back corner of the lot, nearest to the dumpster for the building one street over. Crossing to it, his breath caught as he realized it was a patch of daisies.

You should bring her some flowers. She likes daisies.

He could hear Nick’s voice in his head. It had to be a coincidence, but at this point, he would take just about anything to get something to push the case forward. With ADA French’s direct involvement, the case was being reassigned, but the original trial date for Nick was still set. Jack was an added complication that Nick’s attorney was taking full advantage of. If they didn’t make the cases against both of them as strong as possible, it would be too easy for one to blame the other for the bulk of the murders. If that occurred, then Nick would only go to jail for false imprisonment of Henry Mills, which would be a few years if they were lucky, and Jack would get who knows what for assaulting Belle.

It would be far less than they deserved and the thought made Rogers’ stomach turn.

He stared down at the daisies and pushed at the dirt with the toe of his boot. It seemed to be heaped in that corner, as if someone had dug out a space to plant the flowers instead of them growing there naturally. The blooms themselves were quite wilted and spindly looking. Judging by the look of the ground, and the knowledge that a building had been buried on the lot, it was a miracle anything at all managed to grow here.

Something was bothering him, though, and he kept rubbing at the ground with his boot until he’d carved out a rut in the earth. After a long moment, he went back to his car and came back with a small, collapsible shovel. It was designed to be used in winter to clear away snow and ice, but there was no reason it couldn’t move a little dirt in a pinch. He jabbed at the ground to loosen it, and then scraped it to the side.

After a few minutes, he had a decent little ditch dug around the daisies, and he knelt down on the ground to pull the flowers away. He tossed them behind him, and sat back on his heels. There was something further down in the dirt, something dark, and he used the corner of the shovel to pull more of the ground away. As soon as he did, he knew what it was; a black plastic trash bag.

Rogers closed his eyes for a moment, knowing full well what was usually found in buried trash bags in vacant lots. He ran back to his car and came back with a small kit that contained caution tape, evidence tags and bags, and rubber gloves. The gloves snapped against his skin as he put them on, and he took a steadying breath.

Reaching down into the small hold he’d made, he tugged on the bag and brushed away the dirt until he found one of the bright yellow drawstrings. He stopped and snapped a couple of pictures with his phone, and then called dispatch to send out a full crime scene unit and extra officers.

It was going to be fifteen minutes before anyone else would be on the scene. He knew he should wait, but his heart was pounding in his chest as adrenaline started to course through him. He wanted to know what was in the bag, rather desperately, so after a few minutes of casually poking and tugging at the bag, he managed to undo one loop of the drawstring.

Rogers licked his lips and took a deep breath before using his fingers to work the bag open just enough to see inside. He turned on the flashlight on his phone and shined it at the bag, gasping and falling back on his ass when he finally spied what was in it. It was both better and worse than he could have imagined.

He was quite certain he had just found Eloise Gardener.

Belle keened and grabbed at the sheets as Weaver kissed his way across her bare chest.

Her shirt was somewhere on the floor, along with her panties, and one of his fingers was teasing its way through her slit. She shifted her hips to meet his caress just as his mouth captured one of her nipples. Her face turned into the pillow, muffling her soft little cry. He was always so attentive, so thorough, even when they were fucking against a wall, but just this once she wished he’d just get going and make her come.

One finger slipped inside her wet folds, pushing deep into her pussy, and she ground down on it. He started a slow rhythm, sliding in and out, coming up and over her clit before going back inside. She felt herself getting wetter, as if that was possible, every thrust of his fingers pulling more arousal out of her. Her hand slid in his hair, pulling in frustration, and he added a second finger, his pace speeding up just a little.

It had been way too long since they had been like this with each other. The two times in her office had been rushed and frantic, with neither of them stopping to consider the outcome. Now, they had both made a conscious choice to acknowledge what was happening. There was something utterly terrifying about that to her, knowing that there would be an after to this moment, that neither of them would be leaving the room or running away.

Weaver crooked his fingers inside her and hit her sweet spot making her gasp. He grinned and kissed her neck, following a familiar path up to her ear. “You ready to come for me, sweetheart?”

“Ian,” she gasped. “Need -”

“What do you need, baby?” Belle cried out as his thumb pressed to her clit, his fingers working in tandem, thrusting hard inside her.

“Is that it?” he asked, pausing to suck at her earlobe. “Or do you want more? You want my mouth on your sweet cunt? You want to scream and come all over my face?”

Her mouth hung open at his words, the air filled with the wet sounds she was making around his thrusting fingers. He was keeping her right on the edge, letting his filthy words sink into her brain, the pleasure pushing out any possibility of thinking about anything except how badly she wanted everything he was offering.

“Yes,” she managed. “Yesfuckyes!”

Weaver gave a huff of laughter, and moved back, pulling his fingers out of her before kissing his way down to her slick mount. She watched him as he settled between her thighs, pressing light kisses to the insides of her thighs and her puffy, wet slit. His hot breath made her shiver and she fought hard not to cry out as he flicked his tongue through her, from her twitching cunt right up to her clit. Her hips lifted, trying to follow his mouth as she fisted the sheets.

His fingers pressed back inside her soaked entrance as he closed his lips around her clit. He gave a little appreciative hum that seemed to vibrate up her whole body, and she released the sheets to dig her fingers into his hair. Picking up speed, his fingers pressed into the same spot over and over again, relentlessly pushing her up to her peak as his mouth suckled and licked her oversensitive clit.

“Ian,” she gasped, fighting not to lock her thighs around his head and smother him. “So good -”

She was close to coming, and true to his word, he didn’t let up until a moment later she clamped down on him with a short involuntary cry, tremors rippling through her body. Her eyes squeezed shut, white lights flashing and her heartbeat rushing in her ears. His lips let got of her clit with a wet pop, but his fingers continued to work her through her orgasm, until she sagged boneless against the mattress.

Weaver pulled his fingers free, sitting up to lick them one by one as she watched. She bit her lip and let her legs fall wide open, inviting him to lay between them. He leaned over her and kissed her, letting her taste herself in his mouth like he knew she liked. She was so fucking hot and wet, and he wanted to make her come again with his cock if she was game.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him close, and he groaned. It seemed she was more than willing.

“Fuck me,” she said, when he broke the kiss. “Please, baby.”

He sat up and pushed his boxers down, freeing his cock, just as his cell phone started vibrating across the nightstand. Her head turned and she frowned at the phone.

“Leave it,” he said, stroking himself.

She reached for the phone, holding it up. “It’s Rogers.”

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, wiping his hand on the bed. “I told you to leave it.”

She gave him a look, and he huffed, taking the phone from her and managing to answer it just before it went to voicemail.

“This better be really fucking good, mate.”

They exchanged a look, and Belle licked her lips slowly, her hands trailing down her body to tease him.

“I’m sorry for whatever I’ve just interrupted,” replied Rogers, and Weaver could hear the cringing in his voice, “but I’ve just found Eloise Gardener. Or what’s left of her.”

Rogers’ response made its way through the fog of sexual frustration in Weaver’s head, and he reached for Belle’s hands, stopping her before she could strum her clit and work herself up again.

“What?” His wide eyes met Belle’s, and she sat up quickly, her face suddenly worried. “Where?”

“That wild goose chase Nick Branson sent you on at that vacant lot? Not so wild after all.” There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the call, and then Rogers added, “You two better get yourselves in order, the Captain wants to see you in an hour.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #my woven beauty fic #fic #killing time #lemon fic

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iwillgiveyoumyhappiness · 5 years

Text

이승협, Lee Seunghyub

anonymous asked:

hello sweetheart! can i request a prompt from prompt list#2, 22 and 13 with Seunghyub from N.Flying if that possible of course?

Group: N.Flying (엔플라잉)

Member: Seunghyub

Prompt: “Have you lost your damn mind?”, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice”, “Kiss me”.

The small restaurant you worked at wasn’t the most popular place in the world, and that was true enough. But a person who had spent any amount of time there knew that it was a special place, filled with scented candles, enchanting wall-art, addictive appetizers and pretty fantastic fresh-brewed coffee.

It was a place where artists came and drew on the walls as they pleased, leaving pieces of their passion behind on the pale surfaces. It was a place where students came to study in peace and laugh over good food.

It was a place where businessmen came to wind down after a tiring day, and it was a place where the staff was more like family than anything else. It was a place where you worked—not because it was necessary—but because you genuinely liked it.

That’s why it was always such a shame when people disrupted that calming environment.

There were twelve regulars at that restaurant that you worked at.

The three trainees from JYP that always came for breakfast and lunch. You didn’t know what they usually did for dinner, but you hoped that they ate well. They were nice boys with positive attitudes and a butt-load of talent.

They’d given you a mini-concert before, just for practice.

The woman who’d been going through a messy divorce, but stayed unbelievably strong for her kids. She talked about them so fondly, so you knew she would make it through all right.

The grandma and grandpa that had been coming there every Tuesday since they got engaged there over forty years ago. Although that’d been before your time, they told you the story in such detail, it felt like you had seen it for yourself.

The stock manager with a sharp tongue, but kind eyes. He knew how to complain about the serving portions, but he also knew how to tip very well and always ask how your day had been.

The childhood friends that had moved from Incheon to study in Seoul. You just knew that they would end up together one day. It was the way that they looked at each other, filled with tenderness, distant adoration and a certain shy hesitance.

The brother and sister that were trying to reconnect after being separated for a long time. They were still a little awkward with each other, but they were getting better every day. They’d even found a common interest in musical theater.

And finally, the aptly named: Question Mark Man.

You didn’t know much about him, but he’d always been interesting to you. His schedule was somewhat erratic, but he made sure to come in at least once a week. He always kept a low profile, had never told you his name, never made a big fuss about anything and always sketched on the wall in the far-back corner.

He’d been coming for about three months now.

He was tall, handsome, charming and a complete mystery. You didn’t even know what he’d been working on so diligently for the past three months. It looked like a person, but it was hard to tell who it was. He added a new piece every time that he came.

The first day he came, he’d drawn a very rough outline.

The second day, he added more detail to the body.

The third day, someone had drawn over part of the arm, so he had shyly asked you to reserve that spot for him and only him. You’d accepted.

The days went on, and the drawing only got more and more detailed. All he did now was hesitate to finish the face. He had started multiple times, but he’d always end up erasing it and starting again, insisting it was never quite right.

“It has to be perfect,” he’d said one day.

You had chuckled at him. “Must be a pretty special drawing then, sir.”

You’d studied him for quite some time now. Everything down to his bright eyes, skilled, lovely hands and heart-stealing smile.

“You’re obsessed,” your co-worker had once told you.

You had politely told her to go screw herself. “He just makes me curious,” you argued. “If I got to know him, he probably wouldn’t be my type.”

But today, there he was again, sitting in the far corner, drinking a cup of hot coffee. As always, he slaved over that drawing.

“It looks like he’s actually making progress today,” you mentioned to your co-worker.

She playfully smacked your arm. “Stop staring! You look like a psychopath.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, though a smile played on your lips. “Rude.”

She shrugged. “You know me.”

“Unfortunately,” you joked. You both laughed before parting ways. You focused yourself on the mundane task of rearranging the menus, trying your hardest to keep your attention off of the Question Mark Man. You didn’t want your friend’s prediction to come true.

‘Suspected stalker’ certainly wouldn’t look very good on any future resumes.

Your ears perked up hearing the familiar jingle of the rusty old bell that hung over the door. You looked up at the man that’d just entered. After being at this for a while, you had gotten to be a pretty decent judge of character, just based off of first impressions.

This guys didn’t give off a very good one.

He was well-built and he wore ripped jeans, a shirt with slightly too deep of a V-neck, one-too-many earrings in one ear and a worn, leather jacket. His hair was brushed cleanly (rather nerdy-looking, compared to the rest of him) and you could see a book-bag hanging loosely off his shoulder, almost like he was trying too hard to be cool.

First impressions could be totally wrong, and he still had the eyes of a kid, but something felt off about him. Not usually the type to come into this place.

A highschool student playing hooky, perhaps?

You shook it off, giving him a polite bow. “Good afternoon! Feel free to sit anywhere you like and I’ll be with you in a minute.” You recited the spiel perfectly, a pleasant smile on your face.

The man—or more so, boy—gave you a once-over. “Will do,” he replied a smirk playing on his lips.

You groaned internally. “Oh, great,” you grumbled under your breath. “This is gonna be fun.” You grabbed a menu, setting aside your uneasy thoughts.

The customer’s comfort always comes first. It was basically a law in the business of serving.

“Hi,” you said, trying to sound as naturally friendly as possible. “Anything I can get you?”

The boy propped his chin up against his palm. “Yeah, there is actually,” he answered smoothly. He gestured behind him. “You see those guys outside, waiting by the door?”

You glanced to the front window. Sure enough, there were four of five boys, similarly dressed, peering in through the window, seemingly making playful jabs at each other. “Yeah,” you said. “And what about them?”

“Well, those are my friends,” he said, “and they dared me to come in here and kiss you.”

You almost laughed. “I’m sorry—what? Could you repeat that?”

“They dared me to kiss you,” he chuckled, giving a charming smile. “Crazy, right?”

You nodded exaggeratedly. “Yeah, actually, it’s pretty crazy. Borderline disgusting.”

His smile dropped a little. “That’s a little harsh.” He shook his head, trying to ignore the discreet insult. “So! Do you think you’ll help me? I actually have a lot of money riding on this. Not to mention, pride.”

You gave a nervous chuckle. “Sorry, I guess I’m just not in a very giving mood today. I don’t really feel like helping you save money. Or your pride, sir.”

He frowned. “What?”

You shrugged. “That’s just the way life goes, I guess. But! If you’d like, you can still order something and I’d be happy to get it for you—”

He stood up, grabbing your waist. “Oh, come on,” he said. “What do you have to lose?” The other boys could be seen hooting and hollering from outside.

You pushed his hand away. You were done playing nice. “I’m sorry, sir, but you need to leave.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Listen here—”

“She said it was time for you to go, I think.”

You recognized that voice immediately. It was the same voice you’d been hearing once every week for the past three months, whenever he ordered his Americano and biscuit, or when you made pointless small-talk together.

You were so grateful for that voice. The voice of the Question Mark Man.

You felt a warm hand wrap around your waist. You tried to jump away, but he held it firmly. Not in a threatening way, but protective.

“You asked what she has to lose,” the familiar stranger began, “and I have an answer.” He flashed that signature smile. “Her boyfriend’s temper.”

Your jaw dropped, as well as the boy’s. This was the kind of scenario you’d only seen in dramas, and now it was happening in real life. You weren’t quite sure if it was surreal, or insane.

He leaned in close to your ear. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

Your eyes widened. “Are you out of your damn mind?” you hissed back in a hushed tone. “We don’t even know each other! Besides, he wouldn’t even buy that—”

He cut you off by placing a chaste kiss on your cheek, never once breaking eye-contact with the boy.

Despite his brutish outward appearance, the boy flushed a bright red, slowly backing away towards the door. “I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered before running out.

The mystery man chuckled, still so close to you that you could feel the vibrations. “I think he bought it okay,” he said, slipping his arms away from your waist. “Sorry I kinda had to man-handle you back there.”

You were still dazed and confused, your eyebrows furrowed. “It’s... fine,” you finally settled on. “It’s fine. Why did you help me, though? You didn’t have to do that.”

For a moment, he looked a little shy, shuffling his feet. “Well... I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Now it was your turn to be embarrassed. Your cheeks lit up immediately. “Oh my gosh,” you stuttered. “I’m so sorry about that. I swear I’m not—”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he interrupted with a small grin, “but I guess you haven’t seen the way I look at you.”

You were left confused again. “Excuse me?” He gestured to the far back corner. Your eyes followed where his finger pointed, eyes widening in wonder.

He’d finished it. The three-month-awaited art piece was finally done.

And it was you.

At first, you wouldn’t believe it. That was far too pretty to be you, wasn’t it? The hair was too nice, the smile was too princess-like, the eyes were too emotional. That couldn’t be you...

Yet it was.

You slowly looked back at him, flattered and shocked all at once. “Well, okay then,” you laughed. “To whom do I thank for the amazing likeness?”

He gave a giddy smile. “Seunghyub,” he said. “Lee Seunghyub.”

N.Flying is one of the most fun and extra groups I’ve ever had the pleasure of stanning, so writing our multi-talented leader in this type of setting was very different for me. Different, but fun. We all want a potato in shining armor, don’t we?

Hey, Anon! Thanks for the request! I had so much fun with it and I hope you love it a lot. Feel free to stop by anytime!

#n.flying #lee seunghyub #seunghyub #n.flying seunghyub #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop angst #for anon #i actually love it #like genuinely

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