#10 years. a blink in the eye for him and yet. everything. every moment. every time. i should've said it. i should've told him. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyhomburg · 1 month

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Before I Leave You (pt.68)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your time is running out. minute by minute, breath by breath, kiss by kiss.

Tags: Angst, Hurt (no comfort yet), illusions to past mental health issues and past domestic abuse, mentions of low-self-esteem, internalized shame and self-shaming behaviors, themes of abandonment, speeding, guns, violence,

W/c: 13.4k

A/N: ahhhhh so here we are! i've been dreaming of this chapter since the very beginning of the series! this is like...the ultimate chapter...thank you for giving me a little bit of extra time to sit with it! we've still got a bit to go! there is a little section near the end where the chapter will prompt you to click on a link to play kate bush 😂 if you feel like you'll be distracted by music in the background you don't need to push it- thats just the song that i always heard playing in my head whenever i heard that part playing.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Hobi is sitting on the edge of the nest sipping at his ice water when you come back into the nest room. Someone has drawn all of the heavy curtains over the windows and they pool on the floor at the rim of the room. The plastic pulled up too. The evidence folded and put away for later burning. Like a bad memory or a piece of clothing that doesn't fit right. Shoved in the back of the closet.

The rage and fear and panic are harder to put away. The conviction is not so easy to hide. You can’t put it down the same way that people file their taxes or their children's old scribbles.

You- like a child, have not been able to color between the lines. You- like a child, are messy.

You can’t stop yourself from walking over to him. Drawn to him where he sits nursing his injuries like a moth to a flame. You feel every heartbeat spent in his presence; every breath shared sticky like smoke in your lungs. Every second is savored and every second burns.

You want to ask him if he’s alright, but questions like that seem very pointless now.

Hobi’s not alright- but he will be. He will be okay forever if you do what you have to do. Now that you’ve decided it’s all you can think about. You rarely ever get to know that your last day with someone will be your last day, and now because you know- you look at him a little harder. A little longer.

You wonder what he’ll look like in 10 years and in 20. If he’ll get crow’s feet from smiling so much. If the salt water he loves so much will eventually grow into his features and make him look like something ancient.

You wonder if one day he'll get so many freckles that the tops of his shoulders will be permanently a shade deeper than the rest of his skin- Or if Seokjin’s sunscreen will spare him from the simple pleasure of looking like your favorite thing. Hoseok has always been one part sunshine one part everything else.

He looks pale right now. It hasn't been summer in months and you won't get to see him get all freckly and sun-kissed again.

Growing old is a privilege (you don’t want to grow old) and you’re reminded of that every time you look at his throat and see the bruises there (you wish you and Hobi could stay as you are- like this, in this house- both alive and healing- forever) but you can’t.

You can’t.

You touch his shoulder softly and his head jerks up, body going tense and then slack when he sees it's just you.

It’s quiet up here. The others are just downstairs and they’re making a lot of noise. Hoseok turns, setting his glass of water down on the floor, leaning into your hand in the same movement. It would be cute if he didn’t have black bruises crisscrossing his throat and blood in the whites of his eyes. In truth, every blink only convinces you that this is what you have to do. This is what you need to do.

You know that at any moment the pack is going to come looking for you. That they’ll all come and fill the room with their soothing noises and sweet concern. You're not too worried about finding the right time to slip away. Moonbyul’s given you 24 hours after all.

We didn’t get enough time, did we? I’d have liked more.

Hobi tries to speak and you shush him, he makes a frustrated hum of a noise. You sit down next to him when he tugs you, hand vicelike on your wrist. Your heart is beating really fast. You wonder if he can hear it or at least smell your distress. The whole house is a tangle of distressed scents; your rain, Yoongi’s ocean, Hoseok’s burnt caramel. burning burning burning. It disguises your scent. Hoseok can’t smell how you’re panicking.

You smile at him, and Hobi tries to speak again. unsuccessfully.

“Here your phone-” but Hoseok doesn’t reach for it, he doesn’t reach for anything but you. Pulling you closer to him. His thumb pressed to the pulse point of your wrist, where your skin becomes thin and sensitive. Pulling you until your thigh lines up against his.

The nest up here is the only place in the house that smells somewhat normal, still soaked with your sleepy muted scents from a few days ago (How long will it be until your scent fades from the house?) You take a deep shaky breath, trying to savor it. Hoseok bites his lower lip.

Hoseok starts on your thigh. His hand squeezes it once and then he starts to write. It’s slow going. He can only write one letter at a time but-

“D-O-N-T”

His eyes are positively boring into yours as your breath hitches and you start. “Hobi I-” he repeats it again, writing it out faster. You grab his hand squeezing it. But he pulls it out of your grasp.

“N-O”

You huff, frustrated and close to tears but stealing yourself not to show him your true feelings. How hard this is. You duck in low, kissing over one of the bruises on his neck. He jerks back, furrowing his eyebrows at you. And part of you is just begging him to let it go. You’re half sitting in his lap now all so that he can write out his distress on both your thighs.

“Alright- just stop.” You can hear the rest of the pack on the stairs. It’s getting late, they’ve done all of the cleaning they can manage for today. You can hear Yoongi on the stairway talking to Jin:

“Maybe we should just burn the railing, there’s definitely a bullet or two in it still.”

Jin’s reply is near hissed, utterly scandalized in the way that only Jin can sound. “It is mahogany Yoongi.”

Hobi writes on your thigh, a single tear trailing down his nose. He’s usually a little bit better at keeping himself together but the stress of the day wore him through. Polished all of his usually stubborn edges like the ocean polishes sea glass. He’s too tired to properly argue. Letter by letter as he goes.

“P-R-O-M-I-S-E M-E,” he writes across your thigh.

You have maybe a second before they’re upon you. You have to be convincing. Have to, or else Hobi might tell. You don’t think he’ll get in your way. You don’t want to think about what you’ll have to do if he does.

You dart forward, pressing your lips to his in a way that you don’t really feel, in a way that has him pushing you a little off of him. Trying to reassure him in the only way you know how.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from crying and he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. His fingertips skimming soft across your jaw and your lips. Pressing at the corner of your sad smile like he can peel the fake expression away from your face and have you tell the truth for once.

“I promise, okay? I promise.”

Hoseok is not convinced. He doesn’t believe you all the way. But the pack is up here before he has a chance to write out anything more. Yoongi appears in the doorway, smelling of soap and bleach, a bit of it turning the corner of his shirt yellow where it should be black. His eyes cautious but so loving it takes your breath away a little. He treads softly over to the two of you; like he's worried about spooking you.

The moment between you and Hobi passes when Yoongi's hand curls over the back of your neck and you tilt your face up at him. And he interprets the glassiness there as something else. something more sensitive and more like omegaspace than what it is. you falling through space and time, you dying and drowning infront of him.

He probably thinks Hoseok was just comforting you.

Yoongi’s hand settles softly on the ball of Hoseok’s shoulder too. an equally as tender touch. Long fingers splaying against his collar bones, cradling a bruise there forming. Asking softly, eyes all dark with the anguish and apology of it-

“Do you think either of you can stomach dinner?”

As always, you say you can hot because you want to, but because you know it will make him happy to see you eat. You might not get many more opportunities to make Yoongi happy- you should take this one and savor it.

Yoongi loses that vaguely wounded look in his eyes with every bite you lift to your mouth. His scent sublimating into something sweeter as the night darkens and quiets.

You can tell Hoseok is not convinced of your promises when he stays glued to your side through the whole of dinner. Almost stubborn with how he resists Yoongi’s prodding and Namjoon's. Changing out the cool dressings on his throat and shaking his head at Namjoon’s suggestion that he sleep propped up against the back wall of the nest, where it’s safest. Eyes tracking your movements as you get up and brush your teeth.

His focus remains solely on you, even when Jungkook carries Tae out of the bathroom and places her among the softest things in the nest. When Noodle squirms his way out from under the bed and tries to worm himself in between his legs. Nudging under his elbow with his pink nose.

He wraps himself around you as you get ready for bed. An arm slung protectively around your waist to pull you flush against his front where you couldn’t squirm away without him feeling it and waking up.

It feels like buying time even though you're too distracted to properly enjoy it- the way they try to cheer you up. Everything that they do to try and make things better feels far away like a photograph- a memory just out of reach- the colors a little off.

Jungkook needily wraps himself around Tae and croons soft reassurance into her ear about how pretty her hair looks, how soft her pajamas make her. And would she like some of her skincare routine? Jungkook will do it for her, will pat it across her cheeks, and won't drag it under her eyes to preserve the state of her wrinkles.

Tae answers all his requests with a simple shake of her head. Eyes still frighteningly blank, that 1000-yard stare that you've all seen on your faces at one point or another, that you see in the reflective surface of Namjoon's phone in the nest, discarded and not charged.

Tae's scent is something awful- none of her usual roses and all cinnamon. Does Tae smell more like her old self because that version of her was always afraid? Or was being a boy the first thing she hated and that's why she smells like boy tae now?

You hate it. You can tell the others hate it too. Yoongi drags her close to scent her silly. cheek and neck going all pink from how hard he scents her, and then scents you, and then goes back again.

Jungkook can do little more than cuddle Tae with Jimin, his big hands smooth down her thighs, while Jimin brushes her hair gently- careful not to let the bristles brush her scalp. He's learned how to take care of her over the last few months and he's the gentlest when it comes to detangling. Not like you- who's so used to ripping through your hair without thought.

Up and down their hands go as Jin fluffs the nest around you all. Making the edges of it higher, and more protective of the fragile pups at the center (like fluffy duvets could ever block bullets. In his dreams- Jin’s love is enough to keep you all safe).

Yoongi and Namjoon are only too happy to oblige him with the nest-making and the general fussing. But in between Jin’s request for a hairdryer and another cold cloth for your hands. You catch them watching the door like they half expect some new threat to appear.

Certain things are harder to ignore; like Yoongi sitting on the edge of the nest with a gun balanced across his thigh. Or the heavy thud of a fresh box of bullets, rattling in their acrylic case when Jimin sets them down on the floor. The red shotgun casings lined up in pretty lines- just like Tae’s lipsticks downstairs.

You ask for one of Hobi's sweatshirts and Yoongi puts the gun away to go and give it to you. Hoseok fingers the edge of your shirt stroking over the meat of your hip idly. But every inch of him is taught like he’s going to have to grab you and hold you down. You lace your hand with his and turn to give him a look.

Yoongi’s back with a sweatshirt but it’s Jin who demands to dress you- to guide your fragile and freshly wrapped hands through the holes. Jin pulls it down around your hips with a soft huff before he gets distracted looking at the bruises on your back and side. From getting thrown back into the wall and from an errant elbow. Every time you twist even a little bit- they ache.

A tub of soothing cream that the pack usually uses for the more wanted kind of bruises sits open on the edge of the nest.

The pack moves about in pairs, here and there. Going down to the ground floor in sets of two. Unwilling to let anyone out of sight. There are guns everywhere, Jimin must have let loose his hidden stash of them. A shotgun leans up against the bathroom door. A handgun with an extended stock is always close at hand. There's a larger plan lingering here. You hear it in Jin's soft reassurances. Said hushed over your heads.

"Witness protection isn't as bad as you think it is Yoongi-"

"It won't work- don't you think we know how it works? That won't be safe enough."

"We have at least a few hours, we don't need to make any decisions now."

Jungkook’s scared voice, “Are we really going to have the leave? The house and everything?” A pause. A look is shared between Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Jimin's eyes remain focused on Tae.

“Maybe bunny, we have to wait and see.”

“Do we have a carrying case for Noodle?”

“I think it’s in…” Yoongi trails off, but Namjoon answers for him.

“Yeah, it’s in the basement.”

They set about keeping watch for the night. those of you that aren't nursing wounds that is- mainly Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon- Guns remain at the ready and loaded. Jimin will go first, Yoongi second, and Namjoon last.

Jin tries but Namjoon nudges at his chest and growls in a way that has all of your ears perking up. The pack alpha’s commands can’t easily be ignored. Jungkook tries too to convince them too but even Hoseok shakes his head at him. No one is under any illusions of how fragile this peace is.

No one asks Namjoon to leave the Christmas lights on- but he doesn’t shut them off all the way- leaving just one string lit as a bit of a nightlight. None of you are quite brave enough to risk the darkness.

Hoseok stays close by, his hand clutching your wrist more often than not. Even when the pack settles in for sleep. He wraps his arm around your waist and settles in behind you, caging you in.

(Hoseok’s arms are not the prettiest cage you’ve ever been in but they are the cage you’ve liked the most. You think you’ll miss his arms and his hands. They’re so pretty and long, you lean down and kiss one where it’s gripping the nest and he makes a small noise in surprise that quickly gets swallowed by the hungry quiet.)

The quiet is very hungry, every brush of fabric against skin, every slight movement of the pack sets you a bit on edge. You think it will be hard to sleep- wound up as you are.

You don’t think you're even tired until your head hits the pillow and you have to struggle to stay awake. You want to stay up and listen to the sound of your pack, their soft and measured breathing, the sound of kisses shared above your head, the feel and safety of being in the nest. You want to commit the rhythm of them to memory.

Hoseok’s soft rasping breath on the nape of your neck evens out the more that his swelling goes down. It goes from hissing to more of a squeak as the night settles. Tae shakes through her aforementioned panic attack with all of you piled around her. You get your hand on her ankle at least.

Yoongi and Jimin’s shushing is the only punctuating sound in the half-light. Because what can you say besides sweet nothings when you know she has a perfectly valid reason to fear falling asleep?

You savor every little twitch of their trauma-worn bodies as you flit in and out of an uneasy sleep. Every slight sigh and hand on you rousing you. Jungkook, brushing his fingers through your hair. Hobi, pressed along your back like a second skin shifting and trying to tilt his neck to a more comfortable angle.

You get too hot with Hobi wrapped around you like that, eventually tugging at his sweatshirt that you wear and almost purring when kind gentle hands help detangle you from it with a soothing little shush sound so that you hardly have to wake. Yoongi, around midnight.

Yoongi’s thin but strong fingers rub a soothing touch along your jaw. Soothing away a small sad noise you make that has him curling around your front. The sound of Namjoon's low voice as he says something to your mate and then takes his place at the helm of the nest to stand guard.

“It’s okay pup, I’m here- I’m not going to let anything happen to you- not now- not ever.”

It’s unfortunate, but Namjoon can’t let Tae sleep for more than half an hour before checking her pupillary responses, making sure that her brain isn’t swelling. Concussions are no joke and Namjoon does not take chances with his prettiest alpha. He sends her back off to dreamland with a comforting scent mark and a soothing grumble. After the 5th hour when the risks turn nominal, he decides to just let her sleep.

But Hoseok doesn’t sleep, he can’t really. The pain keeps him awake and what with the way that his neck is injured he can’t find a comfortable position. He shifts and settles the whole night. Keeping you close with that arm around your waist every time you squirm so much as an inch away.

He’s restless until Namjoon gets up to get one of Jimin’s painkillers.

He’s resistant even then, half asleep still fighting. Trying to move away and shaking his head at Namjoon. Namjoon mistakes his unwillingness for simple fussiness and not for fear. If Hobi falls asleep it will be substantially easier to slip away- you watch from below as Namjoon props hobi up and pinches his jaw to make him open his mouth, encouraging the alpha to show his tongue with a prod of those gentle hands. His eyes are barely open, exhausted as he is.

“I know it hurts to swallow Hobi but you’ve got too.” Regardless of his shaken head, Namjoon insistently nudges his mouth with it. Soothing his gag with a stroke of his thumb down Hoseok’s Addams apple. A kiss to his lips for being good.

“This will help the swelling go down, you’ll be okay by morning.”

It’s minutes before they take effect. Slowly- Hoseok’s arm melts away from your stomach. His grip on you slackens from the drugs and his breath evens out. You say a quiet goodbye to him in your head and turn around to face him and kiss his forehead.

At least the last time you touch, it’s soft like that. At least the last time you touch him- it’s gentle.

Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon trade-off. A gun shared between the two of them. Perched on the edge of the nest. Eyes on the vacant stairway Infront of them. Listening for every creek and whisper met with a held breath and hand tightening around the gun. Waiting for the violence that you can all feel coming.

You won’t let it hit them; you won’t let it into this house again. Not while you’re still breathing.

When you're sure that Hobi is asleep you roll onto your back and stare up at the Christmas lights twinkling in the dark. You remember watching Jungkook hang them for you. You remember. You'll always try to remember; you promise yourself right then and there that you'll never let the memory slip away. No matter what happens.

You look over at Kookie, face so peaceful in sleep, a pillow hugged to his chest belly down in the nest, cheek squished close to the top of Yoongi's head on your other side. His back rising and falling.

Jungkook has always been a pretty omega. You reach over to him to stroke down the stiff bridge of his nose, to commit his face to memory. When you turn back to Hobi, you do the same, touching across the heart shape of his mouth, the subtle roundness in his cheeks everything. You look around at all of them- your pack, sleeping softly- sleeping safely. Namjoon's wide back, his shoulders that could hold the world up. Unaware that you're watching him.

You’ll remember all of it, every car ride, every trip to the beach. Every joke and jab. You’ll store each of the memories like a found thing in your pocket. A piece of seashell or sea glass.

You’ll take Jungkook’s laughter and store it- a memory to use when you need to remember that it’s okay to be young for a minute more. When you need to look after yourself you’ll remember how Jin did it and follow his example. And when you need to rest and be soft you'll remember yoongi. You’ll remember Tae like a tube of lipstick and see her every day in the color pink. And Jimin-

Jimin has a hard time sleeping. Even when Namjoon takes the last shift. He sleeps with one hand on a gun, spaced protectively in front of Tae. His bad arm unfolded from his sling. Putting his body between her and the staircase. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the knowledge of that when he glances back, just to check and make sure that Tae and Hobi are still breathing. You hide your open eyes from him when he turns, going extra still and feigning sleep.

Namjoon tamps down on his instincts; the last thing he wants is for his scent to go sour and possibly rouse them. But in the quiet, Namjoon's mind has too much room to fan out and overanalyze. Panic is a particularly alluring drug, his mind festers in it. Rolling around in bad ideas the way that Noodle would roll around in a puddle of catnip.

If he got the pack together, put you all in cars, and drove you far far away from here would that be enough to keep you all safe from harm? Or would that only be temporary? Is temporary safety worse when you know what you have to come back to? Or should he just try to talk to these people, barter with them something. Would money be enough? How much wouldn't Namjoon give?

You are dreadfully similar to him. Only his planning stays in its infancy stage.

It isn’t all silent. Noises punctuate the night here and there. Namjoon is so on edge that he all but snaps his teeth at the shadows. An alpha on alert.

Namjoon’s ears perk up at every car that dares to drive by your narrow street, the neighbor two houses to the left who leaves for work in the city at 4:05 every morning, right on time. Noodle and the sound of his scrabbly little paws on the stairs, zooming up and down them until Namjoon gets up to scruff him too.

Your freaking cat does not like Namjoon on a normal day, he's only ever loved you and Hobi and tolerated Tae and Jungkook- condemning all the rest to hisses and claws, but Noodle settles with Namjoon's hand on the back of his neck. "See, that wasn't too hard was it?"

Noodle gives one last half-hearted hiss as Namjoon places him gently in the nest where he stays put after curled up around Tae’s head like a fluffy little hat. Purring and licking at her forehead. All but taunting Namjoon with his yellow eyes. Flinty and knowing in the darkness. Bushy tail flailing every time the alpha glances back.

You think you’re being quiet when you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Untangling Hobi’s arm from around your waist and pulling yourself to the edge of the bed. He's out cold from the painkillers. Barely even stirring.

Noodle stirs however, darting from the nest with a small murr sound as if to say, "see- she's awake so why can't I be?" Tail raised high as he prances to the doorway.

You look striking in the half darkness, a pair of Yoongi’s green flannel pajama pants rolled up several times to fit properly around your hips. A thin white tank top that's almost falling down one shoulder. Namjoon’s heart pulses dully with the need to hold, the need to protect. He makes a soft noise in his throat and your head jerks in his direction.

You swallow, and your lips look dry, eyes glassy and innocent in their tilt when your mussed hair fluffs over your shoulder. Messy from where Hobi was nuzzling it in his sleep.

“I was just getting a glass of water.”

Namjoon wordlessly holds his hand out to help you get out of the nest without teetering or disturbing the others. Noodle dashes back down the stairs with a soft meow. Tae sighs and re-settles, smacking her lips and Jimin’s arm tightens. Your mate turns face up in the nest, chest rising and falling, mouth opening like he can taste your scent on the air.

Namjoon doesn't doubt he can, honed in on you and focused as he always is.

Namjoon doesn’t let go of your hand when your feet find the smooth floor. Instead, he checks the wounds on your hands and verifies that they’re clotting. The margins slotted together properly for minimal scarring (he'd redone the glue-suture after your shower with only gentle scolding). He presses a kiss to the bandages after they're re-fastened. Letting his lips linger there for a second.

Namjoon has always had big hands, warm and steadying as they cradle yours. Small and chapped and scarred.

Instead of continuing on downstairs, you linger for a second by Namjoon’s side. Eating up every breath he breathes, his scent, and the comfort of having him nearby. Something you know you won’t have forever. (Somehow- you know that this will be the last time that Namjoon holds you. You can wait one minute more. You can give him one more minute). He sets the gun to the side and pulls you between his legs.

“Joonie?” You ask.

Your pack alpha wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles forward, rubbing his spiky head across your midriff. Nose nudging the dimple of your belly button and the slight pudge there with a quiet happy growl.

Namjoon will never not be happy that he can see the evidence of the pack’s love on you. Will never not feel proud of you and how far you've come. He nuzzles, resisting the temptation to bite and nip with a breath let out through clenched teeth.

Namjoon feels your quiet laugh against his cheek. Your warm soft skin swelling with laughter. Namjoon’s face is blushing red when he pulls back to look at you in the darkness. Corralled in the safe circle of his arms, fingers digging into your hips and squeezing.

“What are you doing alpha?”

“Just thinking- just-” Namjoon’s voice gets so much lower in the nighttime, it's a gravely growl. A sound that paints pictures of lightning and clouds hovering low like a blanket.

“When all of this is over, I want to go somewhere new.” Namjoon's hands tighten on your waist. fingers pressing to either side of your spine, thumbs sitting on the soft bones of your hips. “-With you. Just you. Just the two of us. Maybe.” Namjoon fights back a fresh blush at the confused cock of your head. “Maybe- like- a fancy Airbnb? Or something? Would that be fun? Would you like that?”

You pause, humming. Indulging Namjoon in this as he holds you, fingers rubbing endlessly up and down the sensitive small of your back. Eyes wide and imploring like a child.

You're only too happy to forget for a second and imagine. What would happen if you didn’t leave tonight? What would happen if you found some way out of this?

It’s easy to go further than just thinking about a simple weekend getaway. You Imagine far into the future; a day that you'll never see. A future with Namjoon and the pack. It hits you with such a profound heartache when you think it that you half expect to look down and see your white tank top speckled with blood. The ache so keen and visceral but-

Namjoon would be a good father.

He’d be kind and patient. He’d never snap. He’d never yell. For a moment that’s all you want to think about- not a stupid weekend but a lifetime. A family. A world where you’re never yelled at, where you don't have to be afraid, where nothing is hard, and even if it’s hard you do it together.

If you had pups, you know Namjoon would treat every skinned knee like it was surgery. Would never tell them to walk it off or say it wasn’t that bad. You know that he’d go through every tea party with gusto and stay up late to help them with their homework. That he’d struggle to say no but that you might never need to. It would be lovely- getting to give something small and innocent so much safety. It would be nice to have pups with Namjoon.

You can’t say you don’t want it, but you know in that moment that you won't get it. You'll never get to see Namjoon be a father- even if the pups aren't yours or are just his and Jin's. You’d love them all the same. What use is it to Imagine things that you’ll never get? What good are dreams like this but to tease you, just out of reach.

Namjoon nuzzles into your stomach again. His nose drawing soft circles just under your belly button.

You’d be a shit mother anyway. Too fragile. Too nervous. Too hurt. Too much of everything. You'd fuck them up just by being you. You'd fuck them up the same way you've fucked up this perfectly good pack. You've brought nothing but destruction upon them. The evidence of your wreckage is everywhere. The bullets in the ceiling, the blown apart door. Your hands and Hobi's throat. All of this is because of you.

You snap back to the present, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You’re gnawing at your own leg to survive. All things that bite cannot resist it. What good does hope do at the end other than to hurt?

You can't resist asking Namjoon for more, curled around you like a protective barrier to keep out all the world's hurts (or to keep you in).

“If we went? Where would we go? If we made it- What would it be like Joonie?”

Namjoon rests his chin on your belly button and looks up at you. Completely unaware of the longing tearing its way through you, of what you’re thinking about. Not just one trip or one year, but ten or twenty or thirty.

“Maybe south, to see the cherry blossoms?”

“We couldn’t go, not without Tae- cuz of the pink, and Hobi- cuz of the flowers”

Namjoon nods, agreeing. “Yeah- she does really like anything that’s pink.” There is a Tae-shaped smile on his face, you can feel it stretching your lips too. But he shakes it off, head bowed before you. Eyes closed against the image.

“Still, somewhere safe and quiet just for us, just for you and I to take a deep breath and-” Namjoon trails off, looking up at you. His eyes sparkle with the idea of it, all the little moments he’s picturing.

A private morning where he wakes up to just you. Where you hog his warm spot and his pillow in the chilly spring air. Your cold toes pressed to his shins with nothing to do but appreciate each other and take your loving slow and intentional. Your body and his body and all the space and laughter that you want in between. An idyllic picture of two young people quietly in love. Gently in it.

After almost losing all of it, he wants the chance to properly appreciate you one-on-one. The others too- but they’re asleep, and sleeping vessels cannot reply to Namjoon’s daydreams. You are the only one awake.

(In Namjoon's fantasy, he'll give each of his packmates a different trip. every one of them even if it's just the ones he's recently almost lost that have him thinking of these particular plans.

Hobi would want just a day trip. Namjoon knows the alpha doesn’t really like to be separated from the pack for all that long, a few hours sure. Maybe to some vintage stores that he’s been eyeing to the city or the botanical garden.

Seokjin he’d take somewhere grand and big and full of adventure, maybe to 6 Flags or something. Jin likes to be reminded that he’s allowed to be a kid again, that he doesn’t always have to look after everyone all the time. That he has Namjoon to lean on.

Tae, he’d take somewhere gilded just as she is, like teatime at the Ritz- or maybe abroad to the castle of Versailles. The hall of mirrors and a million pictures of Tae in pretty dresses, twirling. In Namjoon’s head- he watches her turn and flutter slowly like a top. Spinning and spinning).

But none of that is quite your style. You don't really crave outings or adrenaline or gilded things. Your wants are much more simple maybe- because you've always known how priceless quiet and peace is. Gentleness is all you've ever really wanted- not excitement or acclaim or ego.

“A little cabin somewhere in the mountains, a spot for just us. We wouldn’t even have to do anything, A staycation. A night or two.” As the world spins on, you are who Namjoon craves to be still with.

You swallow hard, lingering, still half leaning over him still. Letting him nose at your jaw and purr.

“That would be so nice Joonie."

You swallow, throat thick with something. You lean forward pressing a kiss- too brief, to his lips, Namjoon’s lips part and he breathes gently. You blink back the glassiness in your eye and hope that Namjoon dismisses it as the light from the moon streaming through one of the skylights. All white and black. Wrenching you through something that feels like film. You commit the feel of him and the sound of his voice to memory and then pull back.

“I really need to get a glass of water.”

Namjoon shifts to get up, to come with you, but you just laugh at him and push at his shoulder, he flops back onto the bed.

“I can go on my own Joonie.” He grumbles but stays put. Nosing at the goosebumps on your arms and leaning to retrieve Hobi’s sweatshirt from where you left it in the nest. It smells like sleeping pups and Jin. Milky and soft and safe. Namjoon’s body shivers happily when he sees you put it on.

You squirm out from between his legs. His palm stays wrapped around the tips of your fingers. They slide out of his a little, and then all the way.

“It’s not safe.” You heave a tired sigh, what he thinks is a tired sigh but is actually you trying your hardest not to cry. You lean over him to grab the gun from where it’s rested against the nesting barrier. Getting your phone while you’re at it and sliding it into the pocket of your sweatshirt.

“Is that better?” Namjoon grumbles but still lets you go. Sitting there on the edge of your nest and guarding the others. You look back at him from the top of the stairs and smile.

The house is quiet, with no creeks on the stairs and no winds blowing across the roof. No sound at all in the house beyond your quiet footsteps that Namjoon listens to as you go down the stairs.

Feeling every second of your distance like the sluggish beat of his heart, thump thump thump. Namjoon looks back to look at his pack. Their bodies curled and resting, so gentle in sleep. After a few minutes, there are footsteps on the stairs, small soft ones.

Thump.

“They’re so beautiful” Namjoon comments to you. Waiting for reply.

The silence gnashes its teeth, still hungry.

When Namjoon turns back, it’s not you standing at the top of the stairs- just Noodle with his tail raised high. His yellow eyes glow almost florescent in the darkness, meowing and hissing so loud it might wake the others.

“Noodle, quiet.” The cat just doesn’t quit, batting at Namjoon’s ankles, claws and all. “Noodle- hush.” He scoops up the fussy cat, but Namjoon’s only reward is some claws to his forearms and some more squirming.

Downstairs, he hears a sound that makes him pause. Instincts going from at peace to on edge.

Thump

The front door opens and closes softly with a soft click of the metal doorknob.

Thump

Namjoon goes to the top of the stairs, holding Noodle in his arms before the cat squirms and falls to the floor with a thud. “Pup?” he calls, hushed. You don’t respond. Only silence greets him, sated at last.

Thump, breath, thud.

Namjoon waits a moment, listening for a response that doesn't come before he goes down the stairs, Noodle nearly trips him on the way down, hissing and pacing back and forth in front of the door. The ground floor of the house is completely absent of you- absent of anyone friend or foe. The room is soaked in the blue darkness of morning that is not quite dawn. The white countertops are unassuming and the plates stay in their places.

Thud.

The couch still has its dark spot from where Jin cleaned it. The tangerines are safely in the bowl back on the counter shining like several small suns or planets. Everything is empty empty empty.

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

Namjoon checks the shoe rack. Your sneakers are missing, the same ones that match Hobi's and usually sit side by side with his. The spot where they should be empty.

Thud

Your wallet is missing from the bowl just inside the door.

Thud

Namjoon looks out onto the street and finds it empty.

Thud thud thud

Namjoon does not panic, Namjoon does not head out onto the street and chase you down- maybe he should have. He should have done any number of things. The sun is just barely rising turning the sky into that honey blue-green color and Namjoon just stands there and stares.

Namjoon is frozen. What kind of alpha is he- why kind of alpha freezes instead of fights or flights?

Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud

A few minutes pass and something must tip off the packmates upstairs- either the empty nest or the sound of Noodle yowling and quite literally trying to bite Yoongi's ear off.

The next thing Namjoon is aware of is Yoongi is on the stairs, looking pissed off, looking terrified. almost falling down them with the speed at which he descends.

He takes the stairs down two at a time, colliding with Namjoon at the bottom of them. He looks like a puffed-up cat, hair wild and eyes equally as glaring as Noodles when he shakes Namjoon, just a little. “Where is she? Namjoon? Where did she go? Where is my mate!?"

Is it Yoongi's scent- acrid and angry- that knocks him out of his stupor? Or is it the top of his ruffled head almost colliding with the bottom of Namjoon’s jaw when the beta shakes him again.

Namjoon stutters, panic making him inarticulate. So scared he repeats it twice. "I don't know- I don't know, I- she said she was just getting a glass of water. I swear-"

Yoongi's fists tangle in the front of Namjoon's shirt. He sounds sick with it. Voice twisting in pitch.

"You were supposed to keep an eye on her- you weren't supposed to let her out of your fucking sight.”

There are other people on the stairs, roused by the sound of raised voices. A lone light flicked on sends everyone into yellow chiaroscuro. Namjoon is still staring at the street, heart thundering quicker than your footsteps as you run. The streetlights wink out behind you as you go. Fleeing with the night and bowing under the weight of oncoming daylight. Running as fast as your body can carry you.

Could he catch up if he started running now?

It's Jungkook, his dark hair pushed up at the side where it rested against the nest, who asks, “What happened?What’s going on?”

Tae’s eyes dart between Yoongi and Namjoon, her pink silk dressing gown wrapped tight around her shoulders. “Where’s the pup?”

"Yeah Namjoon, where the fuck is my mate??" Yoongi grits his teeth, shaking Namjoon so hard it almost knocks him off his feet and sends him careening a little into the narrow dresser table that the pack keeps by the door for gloves and mittens and keys and wallets.

“I don’t know, I don’t-"

Jungkook and Tae have just spilled out from the stairs into the entryway when Yoongi’s hands hit his shoulders, pushing and then digging into Namjoon’s skin. He’s shaking so hard he can hardly speak.

“You were supposed to be watching her. You were supposed to make sure she was safe-”

“Yoongi- hey- Stop” Tae’s not shaking anymore when gets her hands on his shoulders pulling him away from namjoon where he simmers. Jin is still asleep upstairs. Hasn’t been roused by all the tense voices. Too tired from yesterday- from staying up to scrub blood with Yoongi.

Jungkook skitters to the door as Jimin and hobi descend the steps. nearly bouncing on his heels as he opens the front door letting in a gush of cold air. “What are we waiting for? lets go."

Yoongi's face crumples. “I don’t get it, where did she go- why would she have-”

Hoseok swallows but talks softly, the swelling’s gone down enough even though the bruises look a million times worst in the sunlight streaming through the window. It’s not even 6am yet. His soft hiss is gentle, but the pack pauses to hear it.

“A deal- I think she made a deal.”

It's the first words he’s been able to speak since the attack. Vocal cords straining with every word. Everyone quiets to listen to Hobi. Jimin’s got the shotgun in his hands. He leans it up against the doorway. The heavy thunk punctuates the shocked quiet- but hobi continues.

“When the man was here- she tried to barter our lives with hers." Everyone looks to Tae. And her eyes lower to the floor.

“She did say that but I didn’t think she was serious, I just thought-”

The conversation is a flurry, everyone talking over each other as conversation explodes. Yoongi's face twists from devastated to enraged. “Jesus fucking Christ- that stupid stupid-”

Jungkook clings to Jimin's t-shirt, “What are we going to do? Hyung- what should we-”

Jimin hasn't spoken a word yet, and softly draws Jungkook's hands away from his shirt. “Where would she even have even gone?"

“Did someone pick her up?” Hobi’s words seem to ring out, even though his voice is so fragile.

Namjoon shakes his head. “No- I was listening, I didn’t hear any car in the road- not for like the whole hour.”

“So, you were listening enough to hear the street but not to stop her from literally walking away from us, great. Good to know Namjoon.”

“Yoongi that is like- the opposite of helpful.”

“There's still the matter of where would she have gone. She didn't take a car-” Hoseok looks up in Tae’s direction. She sees the realization light across his face.

“Hobi?”

But Hoseok ignores her, lurching to the small cabinet by the front door; the pack’s drop-off points for their keys, their wallets and your fuzzy little purse from your first ever date with jimin and tae as well as a good slice of Tae’s collection of little red pocketbooks. They keep their things this way because Namjoon loses his keys at least once a month a nd having a communal spot always helps the general disorder of having 8 people live in one house.

Hoseok scrambles not for your wallet but for his.

He reaches for his wallet. Opening it and searching but-

The train ticket is gone.

Your train ticket- the one that you gave Hobi for safekeeping so many months ago is missing from where he usually keeps it in the last slot. Right next to that folded poem of Tae's and an old gift card. In its place is just a simple folded note, a new piece of paper that hasn’t been worn soft at the edges yet. Torn from the same pad of paper that Jin writes the grocery list on. Hoseok’s hands shake as they fish it out. 5 words that aren’t nearly enough.

I’m sorry, I love you.

You’d never told him that- that you loved him. Not after you’d had sex and he’d confessed. Not in the tangle of moments that followed with Jimin bloody and the pack breaking. You’d never spilled your heart to him that way. In the back of his head, he realizes that there just hadn’t been time.

This is the first time you’ve told Hoseok you love him and maybe the last. Hoseok’s heart beats quick. She loves me. Thump. She loves me. Thump. She loves-

Hoseok shoots off like a bullet out the open door, thundering across the porch slats. Too fast for the rest of the sleepy pack to properly anticipate and follow. Peering out after him, a little sluggish and a lot shocked. His socks skid and slip as he tries to arrest his momentum and almost falls as He doubles back for his shoes.

The rest of the pack stares down at him blankly as he tugs them on, sprawled there on the floor just outside the door. Hands shaking too much for bunny-eared loops. He doesn’t even bother to lace them before he’s lunging for his car keys in the bowl too. Nearly knocking over the table in his haste.

“The train station- she’s going to the train station.” He gasps.

The words you shared that night ring in his head, playing on repeat. Like a record that’s been scratched too many times. He’s replayed those moments too many times. He’s not sure if he remembers it correctly.

“Give me one chance, let me try to convince you to stay and if I can’t- then I’ll let you go, and I won’t tell Yoongi what train you took.”

The countless times you’d joked with him after that, the moment so light that Hoseok didn’t notice the weight behind them.

“You still got that train ticket?”

“Of course I do.”

Hoseok never thought that you’d use it. He thought that the ticket would have stayed frayed and pretty in his wallet until you framed it or something. Until you could look back on it and laugh and say things like “remember that night? Remember how it used to be before we loved each other?”

“No, I don’t, can you remind me?”

This is not that, this is not the future that Hoseok had imagined for the two of you. This abject terror. Suddenly Hoseok is unmoored, suddenly he is falling. Usually, you can see the end from a mile away. Is it worse if you lose the person you love because of circumstance or because they decide to leave on their own? Hoseok never thought you'd actually do it.

Hoseok thought your promise last night meant something. Later when he’s not so scared he’ll remember that he’s angry about that.

The rest of the pack explodes too. Jungkook doesn’t bother to put on his shoes- just heaves Hobi up by his shoulders and pushes him towards his car. Yoongi snatches both of their pairs from the floor and joins them. Cold feet on the small pea-gravel driveway. Jimin darts forward wrenching off his arm sling regardless of Namjoon’s protests.

“I’ll drive” Jimin doesn’t have to wrestle with Hoseok’s keys for long. Even with his hands numb Jimin is still the best driver. He won’t pull corners or care about hitting curbs. He reeves it with a roaring purr while the rest get in and looks at Tae in the rearview mirror. Standing on the porch looking breakable and not all there still. Her eyes on his have that same peculiar weight, the same weight that makes Jimin’s blood sing with purpose.

If there was ever someone that Tae needed, it was you. Not Jimin. He will haul you back from the edge of hell if he needs to, for her. because this is not the ending that you and tae deserve. Jimin will tear you from hell. Teeth and sin and all.

Jungkook has barely shut the door before Jimin peals out, reversing until the tires screech against the asphalt and leave dark lines in their wake. Tire tracks, strings of fate, shoelaces. He shoots off down the street and out of sight, knocking over a trash bin with a clang and leaving Tae and Namjoon back on the porch.

Hoseok knows the name of the station you were most likely to go to but not how to get to it. It's an 15 minute walk, maybe a 10 minute run and it's already been 8 since you left. Jimin points his car in the direction of the main road while he pulls it up on his cell phone.

With every sharp turn Yoongi and Jungkook slosh in the back seat and hit into each other. Some early morning commuter honks his horn at Jimin but he doesn’t even see them. The scenery flickering by and the asphalt melting away underneath the wheels of Hoseok’s red car. The small grey towns melt away, Break lights bleeding less than they should. The engine stutters and engages but no one cares about the uneven acceleration. Hoseok would total this car in a heartbeat if it meant getting you in time.

At the straightaway Jungkook stoops to slip his feet into his shoes, Yoongi holding his shoulder. The phone in between them slides on the leather seat, spitting out its electronic voice, overly cheerful.

"Re-routing!"

“Wait Minnie- go left.”

“Fuck!” Jimin makes the turn just barely, sparks skittering and burning out as he goes over one of those tiny reflective dividers. Hoseok curses every pothole for damaging their momentum and slowing them down.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that it’s this station that she'd go to?” Hoseok’s heart is thundering in his ears, beating furious and fast.

“Almost positive.” Yoongi holds onto the back of Hoseok’s chair to keep himself in place.

“We have to get to her before she gets to the city. Can’t you go any faster?” Jimin jerks the wheel around a flashy BMW. Almost hitting them with how close he gets. Jimin lets the speedometer answer Yoongi's question. Pushing 60 in a 35 and then 70.

Your note is crumpled tight in Hoseok's fist, a tiny bit of yellow paper that he unfolds and looks at before shoving deep within the confines of his jacket.

Yoongi is not looking at hoseok when he says his next sentence. Hoseok's not even thinking about his old pack, he's just thinking about the fact that you love him and he never got to hear you say it. Not when Yoongi pulls himself almost between his and Jimin’s seat and repeats the same to Jimin again, the same only different.

Thud.

“We have to get to her before Moonbyul does, if she gets to her- I don't know what I'll be able to do Minnie- even with the power that I have Moonbyul still has more-”

Hobi’s flinch is visceral, jerking like he's shocked.

He turns around to look at Yoongi as Jimin blows through a stop sign and then a red light. Jungkook winces and doesn’t say anything. Pushing Yoongi’s shoes across the seat. “Hyung- you should get ready to run.”

Hoseok and Yoongi look at each other. Hoseok's turned almost all the way around in his seat to stare at Yoongi- more specifically Yoongi’s mouth. He’s not sure if Jimin’s painkillers would make him hallucinate but that’s the only logical reason his brain can come up with after hearing that name- her name- come out of Yoongi’s mouth.

“What?"

Jimin's voice is deathly quiet. "Hoseok- turn the fuck around. If I get into an accident at this speed you will die if you're not facing forward to the airbag."

Hoseok turns back to face the road. Jimin grips the wheel so hard his knuckles are white. “Thank you.”

The sunlight is just cresting the tops of the trees. Dotting the scenery blue and yellow. Hoseok’s ears are ringing with her name.

Yoongi pulls himself closer to Hoseok, hands still gripping the headrest, the only thing that keeps him from bobbing and moving with the movement of the car. Eyes locked on Hoseok's face in the rearview mirror.

"I said something- I said something and you're having a thought."

"I fucking hope so-" Jungkook's quip goes unnoticed. Unnoticed through the volley of honking horns as the red car tares through the street. By some miracle, they haven’t passed a cop car yet.

Hoseok looks in the rearview mirror, at Yoongi’s face. Biting his lower lip. “It’s nothing just that name.”

Hoseok looks at Yoongi and all he can think about is how he'd never said- he'd never told Yoongi their names. Saying them or even thinking them reminds Hoseok too much of his own begging. What kind of alpha begs for an omega to hurt them- to stay?

Yoongi just about puts himself in the front seat of the car as Jimin breaks hard to navigate around a tractor-trailer. Riding on the shoulder, the rumble strips vibrating all of them hard and roaring just like Hoseok’s blood thundering through his ears.

“Moonbyul? Moon Byul-yi? You know it?”

Hoseok shivers, the reaction of his body route, unavoidable. Jarring. Trauma builds itself into your bones whether you like it or not. Triggers are not so much a part of you as they are a light switch that makes the worst parts of you turn on.

"Yeah- I do. It’s the name of my ex-pack omega.” Now it’s Jimin’s turn to be distracted, and he almost gets into an accident for his troubles. They’re silent for a second, Yoongi and Jimin look at each other.

“It could be the same name.”

Yoongi scrambles for his phone on the seat right as Jimin makes a turn and it goes flying. He finds it underneath Hoseok’s seat, hands slippery with sweat on it.

“Hang on, I think I have a picture of her somewhere.”

Yoongi scrolls all the way to the back in his phone. Switches to Instagram, going back and back and back through time, and then he's sticking it in Hoseok's face.

Seeing her face feels like Yoongi’s slapped him. Her face is on Yoongi's phone. Why is her face on Yoongi’s phone? Her hair is longer than it was when they dated, she must not have cut it since. But it's definitely her.

Hoseok feels like he's spinning, it's been so long since he's seen her face but it's definitely the one from his nightmares, the one he sees grinning and crooning false praises that have stuck to Hoseok's soul like glue. The face that he sees behind his eyes and sees in every criticizing comment only on his bad days. She's standing shoulder to shoulder with Yoongi, both of them in black suits along with a man that looks enough like Yoongi for him to guess that that's his brother, your ex-husband.

Your abuser and his and Yoongi in between them. Hoseok can only hear ringing in his ears, he knows he sounds accusatory when he snaps. "How the fuck do you know my ex-pack omega?"

“She’s my cousin. Are you sure that's her?”

Hoseok feels like he’s spinning. “Yeah, I'm sure.”

“I thought you said your old pack was all omega’s?” Yoongi knows Hoseok’s lore, knows it like he knows the back of his hand. He looks up, hair falling across his face. Hoseok frowns jabbing his finger at the phone.

“I did. She’s an omega.”

The dissonance hits him and Yoongi almost wants to disagree but then-

Hoseok watches the lightbulb go off, Yoongi’s eyes widening imperceptibly as he paws at the phone and Hoseok’s hand. The car sickness lurches in his stomach as he turns to look back at Yoongi, and the g force hits him as Jimin takes another turn Impossibly fast. The seatbelt across Hobi’s chest engages with a click, digging into his skin and the bruises on his neck with a painful jerk.

“Are you sure? Hoseok- you have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.”

This is all a game of leverage. A game of who knows what secret and what gets exchanged for whom. Yoongi spent most of last night wondering about Moonbyul's motivation, and now he knows why.

Hoseok is holding onto Yoongi’s phone, they’re hands gripping it together. “Is this who she’s going too? The one who tried to kill us? Is-” Hoseok has to swallow to get the words out right. “Is Moonbyul the one trying to take her?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok shivers, eyes darkening, scent spiraling wildly. His muscles trembling as he thinks about it. You and Moonbyul.

Yoongi pulls himself around Jimin’s headrest. Hand on his throat, digging into his scent gland. He doesn't have time to explain to them.

Only alphas can lead the family, only alphas can rule. If Moonbyul isn't one- that calls into question the legitimacy of her rule. The families would never stand to see an omega on the throne, she'd be ousted, probably killed for daring to lie. The families would tear her apart piece by piece and Yoongi would let them.

If Moonbyul is the person who hurt Hobi- and now she's going after you- that's two people that Yoongi loves that she's directly hurt. Yoongi is thinking all sorts of dangerous things. But they have to get to you first.

If Moonbyul isn't an alpha then Yoongi's just found his leverage and maybe the whole reason why the pack was targeted in the first place.

A packmate for a secret. Yoongi imagines the worst-case scenario; Don't tell and I won't hurt her. Don’t tell anyone and she lives.

How long had she stewed and festered- knowing that Hoseok was out there- knowing that he knew the secret that could lead to her undoing. Maybe she thought his knowing would never come back to bite her, and had intended on tying up the loose end later. Maybe she didn't know Hoseok had found his way into Yoongi's arms until after the old Don and Beta had died. She probably thought that they’d never put it together- at least not until it was too late.

Whatever her reasons, this has gone on long enough.

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Hoseok’s body is taught like a spring-loaded and ready to burst. His voice a near growl.

“Jimin, I need you to drive.”

~-~

Tae and Namjoon are left standing there on the porch. Namjoon left staring after them as they hurl away from the house. Running his hands through his hair hard. Thinking of what to do until-

Tae tugs on his sleeve, “Your phone- Joonie- you should call her.”

“Right- fuck-” Namjoon goes and gets it, and comes back to stand with Tae on the porch. “Come on- come on pick up.” Namjoon paces back and forth on the front porch, the snowmelt from the roof drips out an uneven rhythm onto the railing. the cold spray hitting his stress-warm skin.

Tae stands by the door. Frozen, a statue of Namjoon’s distress. Inside, Namjoon hears a voice. Jin coming down the stairs, probably roused by the sound of the car screeching out of the driveway and down the road.

“Tae? Where is everybody?”

“Pup’s being stupid. The others left to go get her before she’s like- really really stupid.”

Jin freezes in the doorway, fist rubbing his eye. He sounds smaller and younger than Namjoon’s ever heard him. “Am I having a bad dream?” namjoon's pacing stutters and then starts up again. Jin doesn't need him right now, Jin he can help later.

Tae takes Jin's hand and leads him to the outdoor furniture. The cushions have to be damp but they sit anyway. Tae pulls her knees under her and rests her cheek on Jin's shoulder. “That’s what I thought too at first.”

Namjoon almost sobs when he hears it- the click of the dial tone and a single breath. He can hear the thud of the train in the background, the hiss of pressure against the scratchy speaker.

“Pup? oh thank god, stay where you are- the others are-”

“Namjoon? Joonie stop- I didn’t pick up so that you could convince me to come back. I only picked up because I never said goodbye.”

Namjoon freezes, and he feels like the snowmelt from the roof has just dripped down his back. Growing frigid more with each word. If there was ever a question on if you’d gone willingly or been taken- it was answered with that.

“Pup, come home right now or I swear to god-”

“No! For once you’re going to listen!” You’ve only shouted at him a handful of times and he’s hardly ever heard you sound so serious.

"No- you can't-"

“Namjoon, The second you say anything to try and convince me to stay is the moment I hang up, so what is it gonna be?”

Namjoon goes silent and stops his pacing. Holding the phone so hard it feels like the plastic and metal might break.

Namjoon’s very being hinges on every syllable you say, Like the ocean hinges on the moon. Water tethered and kept from the shore by something as simple as gravity. Tae is right there. Tae is watching the driveway not saying anything with that same blank look Namjoon has seen on your face countless times.

All at once Namjoon is reminded of you in the summertime back when he first met you and trauma had you all quiet. Staring off into space in much the same way. Small and fragile and worth saving. You’ve always been that for him; worth saving.

Jin scrubs a hand across his face, clearing himself of the last little bits of sleep. He holds out his hand for the phone, but Namjoon doesn’t give it to him just paces right by him as he listens to you.

“I only picked up the phone because I have some things that I want to say to you.”

You sound more settled and less angry but just as resigned and convicted of what you're doing. Like no part of you doubts your choices. Namjoon wishes you sounded angry, that you sounded sad, but you don’t sound like any of those things.

“I'm not leaving because I think I don't deserve a life with you and the pack. I’m not leaving because I think that I’m not worth your love. I’m leaving because for the first time I know that I am.

“For the first time I understand why Yoongi left and why he didn’t come back until he knew it would be safe. Because when you love something the way that I love you, you’ll do anything to protect them. Can you really blame me Joonie? For doing what you might have done?”

You continue on like you’re not wrenching Namjoon’s heart clean from his chest. Like you’re not a hurricane on his very being- dark and thunderous tearing through him as impersonal as wind. Namjoon’s heart thuds and thuds and thuds.

“Before I leave you, I want you to know that if I loved you less- I might have stayed.”

Namjoon’s lungs ache, ache and sting and swell with words he can’t say, he can’t breathe. His mouth screwed into a soundless sob. He actually might be having a panic attack. He's never had one before- he's not sure if he knows what one feels like. If it's like this- if it's like this he can understand why people call them an attack.

It's frantic, like he's chewing off his own leg to get out of your words. The panic is so terrible. Namjoon hasn't been this scared since he was a child. At least Yoongi had the fucking decency not to make his leaving so visceral.

Namjoon is bent over, tears dripping down his nose, sagging almost to his knees. “Why are you doing this to us!? To me!”

Something jiggles the phone, something that makes your voice all warbly- Namjoon imagines you on the train in a window seat. Resting your cheek against the balmy glass while you talk to him. Staring out at the scenery racing by. Hurtling towards your future like a comet or maybe an asteroid (something more destructive- more appropriate for the wretchedness filling Namjoon’s lungs like tar, the desiccated bodies of the dreams he had for you and the plans he made with you in mind clogging his lungs and making it hard to breathe).

Who knows, maybe off between the trees and the road, you see a red car zooming, trying to keep pace with the train.

Namjoon’s heart feels like it’s skipping too many beats.

“Something Jin told me the other day got stuck in my head and I keep thinking about it, would you like to hear it?”

You take his silence for permission and Namjoon does not turn to look at Jin and Tae sitting on the outdoor furniture. They just sit there; they don't do anything. Namjoon wishes there was something they could do or something he could barter for your safe return but you already have all of him and all of him wasn't enough to make you stay.

“Jin showed me this little article the other day- a few weeks ago now. He can tell you it in more detail but basically, it was about these mice.”

Namjoon struggles to say something- unsure where you’re going with this but desperate to keep you on the line. At least until the others get to you. Drinking down your voice, the whisper of your breath, everything.

“They made like- two test groups, they wanted to measure like- willpower- or how long they would try to live before they gave up. It’s kinda dark I guess. I'm not a good judge of things like that you know.”

Your laugh is the prettiest and saddest thing that Namjoon’s ever heard. He wants to record it and save it for later like some hidden track and he never wants to hear it again.

“Anyways- they put the mice and a bucket of water and timed how long it took for them to stop swimming, to stop trying to live. They’d try for a little while but give up pretty quickly. Like- an hour. That’s how much will to live that they had: an hour’s worth of it.”

Namjoon breaks, shouting, “I don’t want to talk about mice I want to talk about getting you the fuck home!”

Namjoon can hear your smile in your voice, And no-no-no you won’t even let him fight- you won’t even let him snap at you and engage with it. Namjoon’s seen you sad, he’s seen you defeated. He’s seen you so hungry you could hardly hold your head up. But seeing you convicted of this punishment is worse than anything.

“Anyway- they just killed the first group for a baseline. But with the second group just before they died- just before they went underwater- They took them out of the water and dried them off.”

Your voice goes hushed at the end. The morning sunlight cuts across the top of the house yellow. The tree too- it’s early morning- Namjoon’s favorite time of day and he won’t be ever able to properly enjoy it again. Won’t ever be able to wake up at this time of day and not think about the morning you left.

“They let them rest and gave them some food.”

Namjoon feels like he’s about to have a heart attack, blood thumping and hitting against his ribcage. Bullying out the flowers and the butterflies in his stomach.

“Cuddled them a little.”

Namjoon stands at the doorway to the pack den. Hands so tight in their fists that they ache and ache. Namjoon’s hands have saved countless people’s lives before, and they’ve saved yours too- but right now they just hurt.

“And when they put them back in,”

Noodle meows dolefully from the door, swatting at Jin’s ankles and then purring around Tae’s. Namjoon’s knees are shaking.

“They lasted for a whole 12 hours longer. Because they thought they might be saved. Because they had some love to remember. They were able to last for a lot longer than they would have otherwise.”

His face is screwed something terrible with how hard he’s sobbing. How is it that just an hour ago you were safe in his arms, talking about getting away from here. Just an hour ago. It's still 5am a time zone away, if Namjoon got on a plane and flew there- would you still be safe? Is there any way to turn back time?

You only get to love people for as long as you get and not a second more. You get what you get and you don't get upset. Yoongi might have been your lifeblood, the air in your lungs and your reason for existing, but you’d still be that fragile creature close to drowning if it wasn’t for Namjoon.

“Namjoon?” You say his name once and then softer, a croon. “Joonie.”

He's sobbing too hard to see, “Don’t-”

“Thank you for drying me off.”

The phone clicks and disconnects.

Namjoon falls to the stairs, ass in a puddle but none of him cares. He remembers the first day he heard you speak, sitting on these stairs while he helped Yoongi fix the railing. Namjoon remembers the summer heat and feeling scared for you for the first time- because the railing felt so rickety and the last thing he wanted was for you or Jungkook or Hobi to fall. Namjoon is the one who is falling, hurtling towards destruction that stops and ends with his heart.

His hands hurt. He remembers laughing with the others and stealing sips of sweet tea. Nibbling on the sour lemons, sweaty and hot and dusty. His eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of his head with how hard he’s crying. He remembers that you’d poked his dimples and called them pretty, he remembers feeling tired after but fulfilled for it.

One scene in summer and the other in winter now. At the beginning of a relationship and now at the end. The stairs still creek, the wind still blows and Namjoon's hands are still sweaty.

Namjoon sobs loudly and it echos across the empty cul-de-sac gut-wrenching. People cry differently when they lose people they love. Namjoon has heard people cry like this after he’s told them bad news, no sign of brain activity. We did everything that we could. I'm so sorry. It sounds different now that it’s coming out of his own mouth.

He actually might pass out with how hard he’s breathing. Teeth dig into his lower lip so hard he tastes blood. He’s still holding the phone to his ear. “Pup- wait- I love you- you can’t do this to us- to me.” But you’ve already hung up on him.

The dial tone tears through him like a bullet. Namjoon should be bleeding, broken hearts don't hurt this much without blood. People don’t hurt this much without actual wounds.

Eventually, something touches his back, a soft furry creature that only makes Namjoon sob harder as Noodle bullies his way under Namjoon’s arm and licks at his fingertips. Before long there’s hands on him. Jin and Tae pull him up and onto the furniture. One hand in his hair and the other on his shoulder. Jin grabs his wrist. Circling it gently before he holds his hands and nudges them until they relax from their clenched fists.

Namjoon cries.

Together they watch the road and wait for the others to return.

~-~

(Hidden playlist ▶ Play track?)

“Shit!”

They miss the first train by just a few seconds. It screeches away from the platform when Jungkook gets out of the car. Standing there for a breath and watching it pull away. The metal thud screech of it drowns out Yoongi’s voice.

Jimin hits the wheel and growls before he revs the engine and turns, almost hitting a fire hydrant with how quick and jerky he backs up and accelerates. Leaning forward through the window to snap at Jungkook.

“Get back in the fucking car!”

Jungkook does, the door barely latching and almost swinging free as Jimin peels out of the parking lot. Slamming back shut when Jimin does a near 180 to accelerate back onto the main road.

“Sorry hyung,” Yoongi doesn’t need to reply- they all know that every second matters.

Jimin almost collides with a car stopped at the light before he drives on the shoulder, spinning around them. The train matches the road at this part of the tracks so it’s easy to follow it. They keep pace with it as Jimin pushes 70 miles an hour and then 80.

Jimin keeps the gas pedal well acquainted with the floor until they're going faster than the train. Weaving in and out of traffic back and forth, getting honked at and almost cut off several times. Leaving his packmates to grip to seats and their handles. Worried about getting thrown off but still- not wearing their seatbelts.

“We’re never going to make it! It’s too fast! We’re going to hit traffic soon!” The closer they get to the city the less likely it is that they'll be able to catch up to you. It's nearly early morning rush hour, another 30 minutes and these roads will be at a standstill.

“Hang on- let me see the map,” Hoseok watches Yoongi look at it.

“If we go to the next station, we won’t make it. But, if we try to go to the one after that and cut it off-” A look around the car says everyone agrees with Yoongi. Jimin steps on it, and there are a terrifying few minutes where Jimin’s driving skills honestly make them all count their prayers and promise things to gods that they’re already not fond of- but when they skitter and screech into the next station he hears it.

“The next inbound train will be arriving shortly, please collect your belongings. And remember-“

Hoseok is hot on the announcements heals. Sliding to get out of the car before it’s really stopped. “If we miss this one just go to the next station without us-”

“-if you see something say something.”

The train is coming- Hoseok can see the lights about a 100 feet down the tracks and it's moving fast. Yoongi almost makes to get out but Hoseok just shoves him back inside. Jungkook gets out of the car too, bolting in the direction of the stairs. “Hoseok-”

“Yoongi- Just go!”

There are maybe three flights of stairs up, then 50 feet across the tracks, and then the same amount of steps down. He and Jungkook book it up them. Making every second count. Hurtling through time and air. Ignoring the sore and tired pulse of their muscles. They’re clearing the top step and the train is below them. A silver bullet careening and destined to do damage but slowing down.

They bolt across the landing past the ticket kiosk and through the push doors. The train is stopping with a hiss of breaks and a screech of metal. A release of pressurized air that billows up to them warm carrying with it the smell of tar and city.

Hoseok’s lungs are burning. Jungkook is usually faster by just a little bit and would be on any ordinary day. They might be roughly the same height but Hoseok doesn't do cardio nearly as often as Jungkook does. Jungkook's the one who runs every day, who does cardio like it's sleeping and marathons like they're mid-afternoon naps. Who works out and hones his body to a lethal edge just because he can.

But he doesn’t run like Hoseok does.

Hoseok runs like his life depends on it- the same way you would run if he was walking into Geumjae’s arms. You’d never let Geumjae touch even a hair on Hoseok’s head and if- if Moonbyul is who you’re going to- then there is more at stake than just your phsyical safety, too much at stake for Hoseok to be held back by his body.

Hoseok thinks of the tiramisu. Of walking with you on the beach. Of making your nightime stacks just the way you like it. Of holding you that one time you almost fell into the water. Telling you that you had to be careful. Hoseok remembers driving out in his car, tugging your seatbelt to make sure it fit snug. Standing with you side by side in the flower refrigerators at work and the feeling the first time you’d rubbed your scent gland to his. Every playlist of his with your name on it, every song that you ever shared. All of that- she’s going to destroy all of that if Hoseok doesn’t get to you in time.

He remembers how small she made him feel. How small you were when he first saw you. He won’t let you get that way again. Hoseok won’t let you disappear.

Jungkook is the one who would win this race on any other day, where the stakes any different, but just this once Hoseok is faster. Hurling himself over the concrete as fast as his body will take him. Hoseok cuts through the air like wind.

They run, feet thumping. Bodies thudding, hearts and lungs delivering oxygen to their needy muscles. Beat-up sneakers gripping the concrete. Down and down the stairs, plummeting. Almost tripping and falling on the slippery concrete steps. The doors start to close just as they round the corner.

By some miracle of blood and sweat, Hobi's the one who overtakes Jungkook. The doors are closing and the train's metal shell is beginning to hum and vibrate as it makes to pull away from the tracks.

In a last-ditch effort, Hoseok throws himself in the direction of the closing doors.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog! Every bit of encouragement helps me write the next chapter!

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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~-~

Do i think that hobi could have actually warned the pack what she was planning to do? Yes. Do I also think that he thought he had more time to warn them and really wanted to sleep off his near death experience? also yes. Namjoon giving him drugs obviously didn't help. i honestly don't think he was thinking clearly.

this is one of those chapters where everything could have gone differently if they'd just been given a little bit more- but i digress- we all know life isn't so neat and tidy.

I can't not write thinking about the angsty alternative ending for bily- but you guys should know the namjoon/m/c scene...if things had gone poorly in this chapter- this would have been the last time they spoke or touched each other for 3 years- for those who are wondering about the alternative ending- i will NOT be posting any of it on AO3. Only on tumblr through asks! i'll try to tag the super triggering stuff but yeah.

when i think of namjoon and the m/c and their relationship- i think that what they want most for each other is to just see the other old and happy like- that becomes the foundation for their relationship. thats why it's namjoon who she thanks. it also doesn't escape me that yoongi is not in this chapter very much- this is intentional. just wait for next chapter and his anger! i swear its so fucking hot my god i really wanted them to fuck in the next chapter but i just don't think it's going to happen.

the og version of this chapter called for jimin parking hobi's car on the tracks and literally letting the train hit it- not derail- but just hit it. just to get it to stop for the m/c however i figured that was going a bit too far.

Me writing any part with jimin in it- "what if i added a bit of religious trauma to it?"

the line where namjoon talks about his hands hurting is like- directly related to me, because my hands didn't hurt all the time before i started writing bily but now my Knuckles hurt almost every morning. After writing for more than an hour they hurt. i guess when you love something enough it hurts you lol i don't mind.

the "you want a lifetime with them" lines are mostly a callback to like...grey's anatomy. namjoon's charecter is LOOOSELY based on mcdreamy of course the whole...neurosurgeon thing and i am 3 seasons into a re-watch so~ you will have to tollerate that cringeworthy refrence~

i've always wanted to structure a chapter around the thud and thump of a heart and yeah!! i think did a few back but i wanted to do it again~

i don't think i was very subtle with the hoseok train station and the train ticket parts of the story like- i think i forshadowed pretty heavily that it was eventually going to be used but! i hope you liked the big reveal.

how did you guys like the cliffhanger? should i spoil it for you when i've always said that bily would get a happy ending????? i mean...come on... we all know hoseok's gonna be fast enough right?

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ilys00ga · 3 months

Text

𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #bts scenarios #bts yoongi #yoongi angst #hurt/comfort #suga fluff #bts fluff #suga angst #suga fic #abandoment issues #bts imagines #bts fic

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popponn · 8 months

Text

pretty boy. [chigiri hyoma x f!reader]

notes: a bit of cursings, unmentioned but post-canon aka pro-player!chigiri, pinning.

“You are prettier than me,” you bemoaned your fate to your pillow. From your side, Chigiri Hyoma didn’t even bother to sigh at your unimportant complains anymore.

Hidden from your eyes, Hyoma wondered if he should scold you or do something else. 10 years of friendship and 3 years of crushing—he still couldn’t really grasp the situation whenever you were like this. Two seconds and you were the sunshine of his life, then on a rare one second you kept screaming how his face was the reason no one on earth is pretty.

The fuck was he supposed to say to that?

He tried “Thanks.” When you were chill, you squealed and praised him even more and he became a mess of a goo as he tried to act cool. When you were like this, you cried for real thrice and he really didn’t need a fourth time.

He tried “Of course.” The normal response was to poke his cheek—which reddened in response much to your oblivious ass’ and his unfortunate ass’ charging. The this response would be a confusing session of skincare steps tutorial followed with more whining.

Other responses too produced similar result. Either his crush acted up like some chronic back pain or whatever spirit possessing you became the bane of Hyoma’s existence which is a big fuck not again no matter how much affection he hold for you.

(Also, good God, somehow the latter made him felt miserable because while overcoming a fatal, life-changing injury is possible for him of course making progression in his love life from the goddamn friendzone is impossible.)

(Every celebration night, his whole fucking team poked him to death with that fact. Bitch.)

As those terrible recollection went through his mind, Hyoma jokingly wondered if this time he should actually grew a spine and be a man who charged at everything recklessly.

Which he did, because as Chigiri Hyoma had realized—

He is an impatient dumbass. Might as well shut down his brain for a moment and follow his ego out of field for once.

“Hey,” Hyoma called your name.

“Hm?” you turned your head slightly from the—holy shit seriously—tear soaked pillowcase. Hyoma’s pillowcase. Hyoma sharpened his eyes at that realization, but as of the moment he was a man on a mission.

Gently, Hyoma brought his face closer to you. You, as usual, didn’t gave him even a blink of nervousness even as heat crept up to his cheeks.

(Your heart beat faster. You silently asked if Hyoma would ever realize what being close to him does to you. But, out of respect, out of affection, and out of many things—you said nothing.)

“You do realize you are pretty, right?” Hyoma asked, his eyes looking straight at yours.

(You forced a pout, trying to hide the overwhelming, bubbling feelings inside the cavity of your heart.)

“You are just saying that, pretty princess!” you protested, pushing your face closer to him. Out of habit, Hyoma realized, and yet it still did things to him. Fuck his highschooler-in-love ass.

Hyoma raised an eyebrow. Through sheer determination and lovesickness, he pressed his forehead to yours, “Am I now?”

“Yeah,” you said, sniffing. “You are handsome, too. Unfair. So unfair.”

Hyoma pursed his lips. He could end this with a kiss and risked it all. Or he could get to the point on confess. Or he could chicken out for another year.

(A part of you wanted to risk it all and kiss him. But, you were a chicken who hold a crush for 13 years in its beak—)

But, in the end, he might have loved you too much to risk it all.

(—like a professional and trained clown, you held the urge in.)

Hyoma drew his face away from yours, “You are pretty too, dumbass. If it’s between us, it’s fair.”

You—who definitely, yet again, didn’t realize the blazing blushes on his cheeks—blinked in confusion, “…really?”

You are a dumbfuck—Chigiri Hyoma noted affectionately. He will be in love for an eternity and he is just as dumb for thinking it wouldn’t be so bad.

Bitterly, Hyoma smiled at that.

(You wanted to blurt out to your long time friend that his smile was the dearest thing on earth.)

“At least,” Hyoma began. “You are the prettiest girl on earth for me.”

Once again, dumbly, you blinked. Hyoma saw speck of red on your cheeks—mirroring his—before you immediately hid behind his pillow again.

Then, like a hint of happy ending—whispering, almost like a dream—he heard you reply, “…yeah, you too.”

Under the sunset, with a voice that could only be heard by him who sat mere inches away from you, you continued.

“I love you, Hyoma.”

(Hyoma knew his teammates would never let him hear the end of it if they knew you confessed first.)

(But, hey, the chicken is fucking dead and he is certain he could win a bar fight if its for the sake of his and your honor.)

“…yeah, love you too.”

#bluelock #blue lock #bllk #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock fluff #chigiri hyoma #blue lock chigiri #bllk chigiri #chigiri x reader #can someone tell me how to italic a word in this site #im not that old but i truly feel like a grandma rn #i just wanna post fics about anime boys and i cant figure out hyperlink here

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badalivie · 6 months

Text

[10:20 PM]

“You’re smoking.”

“Yeah. I never quit.” Doyoung pulled out a box of Marlboro Red's from his coat pocket, picking up what seemed to be his 5th cigarette based on the ashtray. He placed the stick between his lips and reached for his zippo lighter. The one you gave him for your 2nd anniversary.

The sound of the end of the cigarette beginning to burn made you roll your eyes. “Why am I not surprised. You haven’t changed at all.”

“You say that like you’ve kept in touch with me these past 9 months” Doyoung's zippo lighter made a satisfying click as he swiped it shut and tossed it back into his pocket. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then exhaled in the opposite direction, remembering how you said you hated the smell of cigarettes.

“We broke up. I wasn’t exactly obliged to.”

“Fair point.” He admitted, taking another drag from his cigarette. He glanced at you for a moment, uneasy with your silence. “You're not gonna nag me? You hated when I smoked."

“Its not my business anymore, Doyoung.”

You were right, he knew that. So why did that sentence stab at his heart the way it did? He bit his lip, holding the smoke in his lungs for a little longer that time. When you were together, he found your nagging at him to quit smoking as probably one of your most annoying habits. Yet now he wanted to desperately to hear you nagging him again. He wanted to hear you care about him.

This meeting place had become bittersweet for the two of you. 2 years ago this is where Doyoung had asked you to be his girlfriend. Now, it's the place where you first met each other after one of the nastiest breakups either of you have ever faced. Doyoung had never felt you so close to him yet so far, but really he only had himself to blame.

“How have you been?” Doyoung's hand flicked the spent ashes into the tray as he spoke.

“Seriously?”

“Can’t I ask?”

Something about him pissed you off, maybe you hadn’t fully moved on. Seeing him still hurt and irritated you, but at least not as much as before. “I’m fine.”

“You seeing someone new?”

“No.” Saying this almost felt like an admission of defeat to you. Like saying "no, you had too much of an effect on me to meet other people". It made you feel weak. Especially when you'd been hearing rumors of Doyoung fucking a new girl practically every day since your breakup.

“I see…”

“You?”

“Nah…”

“Hm, that’s unexpected.”

“What?” Doyoung blinked and turned to face you, grinding his cigarette out on the ashtray in the process.

“You didn’t really seem to care about me all that much so I thought picking up another chick would be a piece of cake for you. Actually, my bad, you picked up multiple chicks. I guess none of them stuck, manwhore.”You hissed

Doyoung’s eyebrows crashed together and his mouth cracked slightly open in disbelief “Are you kidding me right now?” Doyoung raised his voice, heat rising to his head.

“Don’t raise your voice at me! Am I wrong?! You know damn well you've been seeing new girls every night!” You knew you had no right to be upset about that. But that didn't take away how worthless his actions made you feel.

“Y/n! I'm not upset about you calling me a manwhore, I'm upset you're denying the fact that I loved you.“ He wanted to say more. When you broke up he thought of all the things he’d say to you. He’d apologize, plead, explain, everything. But now you were actually infront of him he could barely get any words out. "I love you, Y/n."

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves “Well apparently not enough.”

Doyoung felt his heart sink down to his feet. It wasn’t the truth. He loved you more than himself, more than life itself, but he was still guilty. He was guilty of loving you more than he was willing to admit and lying to himself and you that he didn't. Maybe he was selfish for wanting you back, knowing how much he hurt you, but that didn’t make him want you any less. It shattered him when he lost you —the person who cared about him most in the world.

“Listen, Doyoung. I don’t want to fight you anymore, can we just put this past us?” Your expression softened, taking yet another deep breath. “Officially.”

Doyoung paused for a moment. “I don’t want to fight with you either…" He sighed "Deal.” He pursed his lips and nodded eventually, still unable to say anything. That made you smile. You always found the way he bit his lips cute. You used to tease him and say he looked like a bunny for it. Oh and how he loved it. How you’d cup his cheeks and kiss his nose. How you’d cuddle his head into your chest, how you’d talk to him. He loved everything you did. And he still did. Doyoung froze. God, when was the last time he had made you smile? He found himself mesmerized, unable to look away from your face. He missed your smile, he missed this, he missed you.

For you, that moment lasted only seconds, yet for Doyoung, an eternity had already passed before you pat his arm and turned to leave.

“Hey y/n!” He blurted out, making you stop in your tracks. You turned to face him, and in that moment he could have sworn time stopped. You were beautiful, it was just when he saw you for the first time. He had fallen in love all over again. “For what it's worth, I really did love you. You made me the happiest person I'd been in years. I would have crossed the ocean for you, and I still would. I'm sorry I never found a way to let you know that."

“Thank you for saying that, Doyoung.”

"I'm sorry I didn't say more. Please believe me."

Maybe it was something about the way his eyes turned glassy, or the way he had an expression on his face you've only seen once in your entire time knowing him. But for the first time in a long time, you saw the Doyoung you fell in love with. "I believe you."

"Goodbye, Doyoung."

"Goodbye, Y/n."

(this may or may be part of a draft im currently writing ok bye)

#nct fanfic #nct imagines #nct fic #nct au #nct scenarios #nct reactions #doyoung #doyoung imagines #doyoung fanfic #nct ff #nct aus #nct angst #doyoung ff #doyoung angst #doyoung imagine #doyoung scenario #nct oneshot #doyoung oneshot

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wannaeatramyeon · 10 months

Text

Gun Park x Reader: this is our place (we make the rules)

Chapter 9 - Probably should read ch1 first

Things get a little weird after that.

Gun has ample sexual experience but no relationship experience. He does not know how to take the next step.

(He does know how to pleasure you in bed... though he knows definitively that that’s not the best way to proceed.)

And you are a lost cause, having little experience of anything at all.

You both tiptoe along the blurred line between tentative friends and something more.

The routine continues though it’s not as easy as it once was. You are on edge, reading into every little thing, face blushing and voice stammering at the slightest flirtation or touch.

Gun is Gun. He is how he always is.

Yet he pulls back a little, taking your reactions as hesitation and uncertainty about him.

It doesn’t stop his eyes lingering on your lips whenever you try to get your words out.

For the first time in his life, there’s a hunger in him that he knows exactly how to satiate but finds his hands completely tied.

Gun is the one who graces your front door, a very unusual occurrence especially at this time in the morning. Fully dressed despite the early hours and a duffle bag at his side.

He waits for you to answer, hears your sluggish footsteps approach the door and wonders if this was what it was like for you all those months ago.

The door swings open, and he’s greeted with the sight of you still half asleep and hair wild.

(I want to see this every morning, a hopeful voice in his brain offers. One that has grown confident and loud. Louder than his bloodlust. Louder than his search for a successor.)

“Gun? What time is-” The sentence is cut off with a large yawn.

Even that. Gaping mouth, bleary eyes, the way the yawn travels through your body and you stretch - he finds it endearing.

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks on a business trip.”

Gun pinpoints the exact second his words take hold, your eyes flying open and all signs of sleep gone from your face.

“Few weeks?!”

A brief nod. “If it goes to plan”

“Are you,” you bite your lip, wondering if it’s too forward for you to ask but you choose to bite the bullet instead, “Are you going to keep in touch?”

“When I can, of course,” Gun doesn’t even hesitate, no doubt in his mind that he would.

He does hesitate at his next move though, for a fleeting moment, before he takes a leap of faith and hands you a small envelope.

“Open it when I’m gone.”

“Ok…” Your hands grip the edges tight.

It’s only a few weeks. You’ve already survived many weeks, months, years without him and he said he would be in touch. Why are you feeling such a pang of sadness?

Gun sees your face drop, lips turning down into a frown and starting to wobble. So he allows himself a small indulgence. Gives in to something he has wanted to do for a while.

He takes your hand, holding it firm in his, brings it up to his lips and kisses each knuckle.

Gentle, delicate. He didn’t realise he could ever be this tender.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he murmurs against your skin.

As soon as Gun is gone, you tear open the envelope.

Out drops a note enclosed around a key, very similar to the one you have.

The handwriting you can never mistake for anyone else’s.

‘Treat my home as if it is your own. Look after it for me.’

Running your finger along the jagged edges, you check to see if this key is actually real and won’t disappear the next time you blink.

Feels solid enough.

You give your wrist a harsh pinch.

Ouch. Fuck. Not a dream either.

You’re not stupid. You know what a grand gesture this is, and one you didn’t think would come from Gun.

Giving a key to someone else is huge. A big step in a relationship, an even bigger step for you and him because who knows what the hell this is.

Although it is expected, now you think about it. Everything he does has an intensity, never without purpose.

And actually. A trusted neighbour having your house key is perfectly normal.

(Idiot, a mocking inner voice taunts, you know exactly what this is.)

You grab your phone and fire out a message immediately.

You: your house key?!

You: are you sure? are you comfortable with me being in your apartment without you?

Gun: Yes.

Y/N: so what?? you want me to sleep in your bed? eat your food?

Gun: Don’t break anything and don’t leave a mess.

Y/N: That’s all you have to say?

Gun leaves you on read.

He receives a few more texts from you through the day, each time Goo peering over and trying to read his screen.

“Is that Y/N?”

“...”

“Tell her I love her!”

“...”

“Ask her to reconsider the date.”

“Fuck off.”

On the second day, you cannot focus on anything. Not your lectures, your college course, books, TV.

Phone incessantly pulled out of your pocket, thinking you heard a phantom buzz.

In the end you think it’s better to have it always in sight or in your hand.

…Leading to your eyes flickering to the screen every minute.

By evening, you decide to be the one who reaches out, sick of waiting to see if Gun will message you. Chiding yourself for being so childish in the first place and playing these games.

And he’s on a business trip. Likely busy as hell.

You angle your dinner in a flattering light, snap a few pics, select the best one along with ‘not as much fun to cook for one’ and press send.

A few hours later you get a response.

A picture of his own meal in what looks like a very upscale restaurant if the plating and tableware is anything to go by.

‘Your food is better.’.

The third day you get a picture of a breathtaking sunset with mountains in the background.

‘Thinking about you.’

You return a selfie of you on his sofa the day after.

‘Thinking about you too.’

Gun replies in the next hour: ‘Good.’

It’s weird how being in Gun’s home without him is not weird.

You’ve been there enough times to know where everything is. The place now has a sort of nostalgic familiarity. Even the sleek and minimalist design which you scoffed at before, has a peculiar cosiness. Almost homely.

Maybe because it is so very much Gun Park.

Initially, you don’t stay much longer than is deemed polite - if it could be considered polite at all.

Over time, you find it harder and harder to leave.

Gun knows you better than you do apparently.

Maybe just maybe he realises how much you would miss him. How much being surrounded with his things would help, a part of him embedded in everything in his home.

Including you.

Nothing of significance happens over the next few days. The pictures and selfies increase in frequency.

Gun tends to send you pictures of landscapes and his surroundings, accompanied with a surprisingly romantic caption that leaves you giggling.

Car dashboard to show he's travelling, pictures of coffees and patisseries in overpriced and trendy cafes where he would no doubt fit in, and then images of food from even more eye-wateringly expensive and fancy restaurants.

And then one your eyes have poured over the most, a picture of an empty gym.

With a reflection of Gun, topless. Almost but not quite out of shot.

Truthfully, you replay the image of him post-shower in your head multiple times a week. It pops up when you least expect it. Over time, the memory has grown blurred at the edges, and this has slammed everything back into sharp focus.

Today you get a glimpse again of his body. Shiny and slick with sweat, muscles flushed red and pumped.

You zoom in - not before shiftily looking around his empty apartment, as if someone will jump out and shame you for being thirsty.

Eyes tracking over the collar bones and the curve of his shoulder, bicep popping with the phone gripped loosely in his hand.

A peek of hip hones and one half of the delicious V muscle, the arrowhead that points straight down.

Ughhh.

He’s not posing at all. You just know it’s one single picture Gun has taken and fired off without thought.

But you still feel the need to take a cold shower right this second.

You: 😋

Gun: 😯

The thought of Gun, a man so cool and calm and collected, using an emoji catches you off balance and you burst out laughing.

(... The photo? That is not true. Gun knows exactly what he is doing.)

One afternoon, you receive a selfie from Gun - which is unusual in itself.

Upon reveal, it’s a picture of Gun’s business associate - Goo Kim, smouldering at the camera and a fuzzy outline of Gun in the background.

‘Hey cutie pie, how you doing 💋’

Moments later, another picture. Blurred and taken from what looks like midair, phone falling to the floor. You squint at a fuzzy image of Gun trying to kick Goo, who aims a punch for his head.

Gun: dhakjsdhaksjdhs

Gun: kfdjhsdkfhd

Gun: Ignore that

Gun: Sorry

Another few days later, Gun’s eyes soften at the picture and caption he has just received. It’s a welcome reprieve from the day he had

You beaming with your arm around the plant, both in his apartment.

‘look whos finally home! we miss you!!’

“Huh.” Goo leans over Gun’s shoulder, adjusting his glasses and thinking his eyes are deceiving him. “I thought you would have killed that thing by now.”

“Since I left, I've been surrounded by all this noise. All I can think about is being with you at home. By your side. Listening to you, seeing you. Just existing... You have no idea the hold you have on me.”

You don’t hear anything until the next night. A voice recording. Hushed, like a confession.

A slight grumble and a sigh.

“I won’t be able to contact you from now until I’m back… Y/N. I wanted you to know that I-,”

A pause.

“I miss you too.”

#lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism fanfic #lookism fics #gun park #park jonggun #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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bangtangalicious · 1 year

Text

death valley (m) | finale

summary: a summer internship at a famous record label turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

pairing: ot7 x f.reader smut ft: jimin x reader, namjoon x reader

genre: smut. yandere. mystery. thriller. gang!au rockstar!au

wordcount: 7k

warnings: multiple & explicit smut scenes. a is for angst baby, slow burn romantic post-argument sex, unprotected sex (bc), rough sex in a limo, coercion, extremely dubious consent but she gets out of it, namjoon is a big boi, manipulative and obsessive themes, choking, toxic relationships, some physical violence/fighting (not oc), drugs/alcohol mentioned, lots of kissing, dirty talk, creampie, heartbreak, betrayal, guns (not used), oral (f rec), jimin eats you out like a king, anxiety, declarations of love, somehow yet unsurprisingly taehyung is still really hot, yn jumps out of a car but shes ok, twists and turns ;) happy? ending - please read with caution!!! unedited

taglist (sorry if i missed ppl!): @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees@kooookie @queenmasterxx@crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra@un2-verseverse@winter-melontea@equivocacies @infernal-alpaca@shrimpmsg@meowmeowyoongles @rjsmochii@liltangerined @littlrmills14blog @issysor@arandomblackgirl@adoringinsanity@giadalin@jeontier @kaithezaftig@jinssexytoe @nonnis97@minyoongiboongi@happygirl62304 @just-me-and-myselfs @purplepebbles @channiespup @lilacdreams-00 @kianam @thmrdrs@kpoppin-mel @namjooningelsewhere @lolzerss @planetsope @ohmykim @xyahrinx @bangtan-army @you-are-my-wind @yoongihandfetish @father-time-and-baby-new-year

Taehyung rolled a chess pawn in the palm of his hand. His eyes locked on the game board where two knights stood at the crossroads of his queen. The timer clicked softly in the background, but all Taehyung could hear was his heart beating loudly through his head. A weight dragging down his heart.

So this was guilt.

Taehyung never wasted time with such feelings. Caring for others had never come naturally to him. It was why he was so brilliant at what he did. He had engineered a façade to win your trust early on. In a sea of unhinged men, he meant to be a diamond in the rough. He was ever so sweet to you. Caring, even. Everything was intentional. Every move. Every lie.

Taehyung never wanted you to die. He couldn’t stomach it. Leaving you in the fire was intentional. He knew Namjoon was following you around like the creep he is. He had to see the betrayal in your eyes. He had to make you feel as bad as he felt. He had to do something that would make you want to kill him on sight. He needed to cut you off for good.

Now that he had, the thought of you hating him kept him up at night. He felt guilty.

Why do you care? Taehyung’s feelings for you—he wasn’t sure what they were. The moment you lost faith in him, he seemed to shatter. He wanted you to trust him. He yearned for your approval like never before. Would it have been so wrong to take you and run away? To keep you for himself, far from the chaos of this place?

He shook his head. Blinking at the chessboard a moment longer he began to smile. Giggle. Before he was laughing wildly. He slammed the table to the side, watching all the pieces scatter onto the marble floors.

It was unfair. It was so fucking unfair. Taehyung would have worshipped you. You were a goddess in his eyes. He shook his head. It was none of his business anymore. What you did—who you chose to be with. He had betrayed you. Lied to you since the moment the two of you met. The conflicting thoughts in his head racing a mile a minute—making him queasy with anticipation.

Just leave it alone. Do what you came here for.

Except he couldn’t. He couldn't sit idly by and watch you make a huge mistake. To be with someone who wouldn't allow you to be the amazing woman you were. Someone who only saw you as a prize. He needed you to leave him, to leave Death Valley—but wanted you to be happy.

Sighing, Taehyung reached for his phone. He was doing this for you. He would have done anything for you—but knew in his heart that his would be his last move.

Check and mate. He was done with you after this.

He tasted the remnants of your name on his lips before sending a final message.

You’d never forgive him. But at least you would be safe.

The clock ticking could barely hide the tension in the room. Jimin couldn’t even hear it, his ears filled with his racing heart. His lungs constricted—he could hardly breathe with how angry he was. Gripping the steel handles of his chair so tight, his knuckles were going white.

But he didn’t dare say a word. Because he had been in the business long enough to know when someone was plotting against him. Namjoon was naïve. Tacky, even. The desperation of his actions would have been amusing if it wasn’t for your pliable willingness to participate.

He couldn’t look at you. You were by his side, sitting with your hand on his arm. It was too painful—because you were cold. You were back to playing with his heart and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

“It’s just a PR stunt” Hobi had led them inside the label to a conference room. After a long sip of his coffee he spoke again. “They both agreed to it. Imagine the fucking ticket sales for your concert now”

Tugging at his sleeve, you leaned towards him. “I’m sorry baby, it’s not real though I promise.”

Jimin scoffed, turning his head. He knew you better than you thought and could see through your lies. What he couldn’t figure out was why? Why would you agree to something so rash and impulsive?

“This will also help us push down news about Yoongi’s death”

Jimin finally locked his gaze with yours. So that’s it, isn’t it. He truly hadn’t known until Jungkook told him. Was that why you were mad? Did you think he was behind this? This had Namjoon written all over it.

He turned to the bastard, who looked far too pleased with all this for his liking. Namjoon had been a pain in his ass from the day they had met. Fights, to tailing Y/n around every damn second, he couldn’t shake the creep and was getting fed up.

“What the hell did you tell her?”

Namjoon grinned. Leaning back, he ran his fingers through his hair. His newfound confidence was nauseating to Jimin—knowing that it was being fueled by you. “You know, I never really got what people see in you. You don’t even care about music. Your fans. Any of it. You don’t deserve any of it, and you definitely don’t deserve Y/n you crazy prick”

Jimin laughed bitterly, ticking his jaw. “Who the hell even are you? You’re nobody.”

“I’m the guy who just fucked your girlfriend a few minutes ago, let’s start there”

The tug on Namjoon’s lips sent Jimin off the edge. He lunged across the table, fists swinging but Jungkook jumped up to hold him back.

“Namjoon” You muttered sternly, but Jimin was not oblivious to the way you blushed. He scoffed. You had shattered his heart. In front of millions.

“Why?” His voice was quiet, holding your cheek into his palm when really he wanted to grip your throat and squeeze until you couldn’t breathe. “We don’t need this, I don’t care about ticket sales or breaking records anymore—all I want is you”

You sighed, “It’s not about you baby, I wanted to help Namjoon out a little too. It’s his first concert”

Jimin pouted, folding his arms over his chest. “Y/n, I hope you know that I trust you, but Namjoon clearly has an ulterior motive with you. You do see that, right?”

You scoffed, mumbling to yourself.

Jimin raised his eyebrows. “Is there something you want to say to me, Y/n?”

You shook your head. Your gaze was frigid. Everything about you was. He hated it. He wanted to fight, because at least then you would react to him. At least then he would know you cared enough to tell him what was on your mind.

Reaching for your hands, he brought your fingers to his lips, lightly brushing kisses against each one. He knew you liked it when he was soft with you. He needed to remind you who he was. Who he was to you.

“Listen baby,” He spoke softly, twirling your fingers with his, “Jungkook told me what happened to Yoongi” He pressed his lips to the palm of your hand. “I’m so sorry. And I can’t image what you’re going through right now. I know you cared about him”

You stared at him with disbelief, “I loved him, Jimin”

His heart sank. Fingers constricting around your wrist. A part of him wanted to toss a chair across the wall. Maybe pull out a gun and shoot Namjoon in the head.

He exhaled. He couldn’t lose you. Not after everything the two of you had been through. Jimin changed for you. You made him want to be better everyday. You taught him that there was more to life, and all he wanted was to go chase it with you by his side.

He could tell you were taunting him. Trying to get him to snap so you would have any excuse to go running to Namjoon, but he wasn’t about to give you the satisfaction. He was going to prove himself to you.

“I know.” He looked into your eyes. Searching them. Trying to convey his sincerity when he said, “If you want to talk about it—about him, I’m here for you”

You smiled. Fake. He hadn’t gotten through. He sighed in defeat, backing into himself. Jungkook cleared his throat. Jimin had forgotten they weren’t alone.

“Y/n, do you want me to drive you home?” Jungkook briefly looked at Jimin, indicating an understanding.

Namjoon stood up as you did, eagerly waving you goodbye. Jimin could have vomited, but stared aimlessly at the wall instead.

Your head was spinning. Dizzy trying to count the lies tossed around so easily minutes ago. You were grateful Jungkook offered you an out. Being around Jimin was too complicated. You needed to stay focused.

“Your acting skills have improved” Jungkook’s voice was amused, breaking the still silence surrounding you.

You grinned. Jungkook met your eyes in the rearview mirror and chuckled. “My god, Y/n what the fuck are you up to now?”

Licking your lips, you turned to face him. “Have you ever trusted someone so much, that even when the truth is staring right in front of you, you simply can’t see it?”

“You talking about Yoongi?”

“I’m talking about you” You pulled out a gun—something you had managed to snatch from Namjoon during sex. “Pull over and get out of the car”

The shock in Jungkook’s face was priceless. You finally sympathized with whatever sadistic kick Jin used to get out of tricking others. Jungkook quickly stopped the car, stepping outside with his hands in the air.

“Y/n” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, “Whatever this is, is a misunderstanding. You’re still messed up over Yoongi and I get that—but” He dropped to his knees, “J-just drop the gun and talk to me”

The thing was—you no longer had anything to say. You were rightfully fed up with the lies. Not only was Namjoon clearly lying to your face, but moments after you received a message from Taehyung.

Taehyung. The emotional haze over Yoongi and Jimin had almost made you forget—that the puppet master still lived, and more than likely, was still pulling the strings. You were willing to bet Taehyung killed Yoongi. It was so perfect. His whole plan had been perfect from the start and you were burning to look him in the eye one more time just to beat him at his own game.

Of course it had to be Taehyung. Taehyung killed Jin—and almost killed you. He had been the mastermind. The king. And like an idiot you trusted him. You really, truly trusted him.

You trusted he would never hurt you.

Your mind whirred. Reason escaping you completely you began to question everyone you had been around. Everyone always told you Jungkook was a liar. Good for nothing. Controlled by the highest bidder.

Well, the highest bidder was no longer Yoongi. If Taehyung killed Yoongi, Jungkook was probably balls deep in his pocket too.

“I’m gonna ask you once. Slowly” You gritted through your teeth, “Who killed Yoongi?”

“Y/n—I don’t know. Okay, I texted you when I found out from Joon. Why would I kill Yoongi, huh?”

“Never said you did. I’m asking if you know” You shook your head. You didn’t have time for his evasive answers. You clicked off the safety, making Jungkook tremble.

“Y/n what the hell, I’m on your side alright?”

“When I told you Taehyung was alive—you didn’t really react much. Did you know it was fake the whole time? Have you been helping him?”

“Y/n—if you’re asking if I will work for Taehyung now that Yoongi is dead” He exhaled, “Then yeah, I will. That’s what I fucking do, Y/n. Not all of us have popstar boyfriends who can take care of their every need. I gotta make my living and this is how I fucking do it. But you asked me to find Jimin even when Taehyung had kidnapped him and I did. I brought him to you. Taehyung isn’t after you. He just wants you to stay away from him. He would never hurt you, Y/n. And if I haven’t made it clear yet—neither would I”

“Oh you’re defending him now?” You raised your eyebrows.

“No—I just—Y/n just leave it alone. You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now, trust me” You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook gulped. “I don’t know who killed Yoongi, honest. Namjoon was the last person I know who even saw him” He paused. “I’ve known Namjoon for a long time Y/n. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.”

You shook your head. There was no way. Namjoon would never kill someone, let alone someone you cared about.

You’d had enough.

“Tell Taehyung I’m coming for him. He’s not getting away with this”

Driving Jimin’s car. You had forgotten the delirious high of stepping on that pedal and zooming through the highway without a care in the world. Nostalgia panged in your heart as you recalled simpler times, when you were hooking up with Jimin—and not being hunted down by a ruthless gangster.

You arrived at Jimin’s apartment, unsure if he himself was there.

He wasn’t.

You knew he would be mad. You truly had appreciated his effort to stay calm in such a situation. You felt bad for the way you acted but you needed Hobi and Namjoon to think you were against Jimin. After all, Taehyung was always watching.

Tearing off your clothes you ran into his room, ready to surprise him and hopefully, convince him not to let out his anger at you. Jimin arrived a few hours later. You heard his offbeat steps. He’s drunk. Quickly you grabbed one of his shirts, threw it on before meeting him in the kitchen. His eyes widened upon seeing you.

“Y/n—” His voice was soft. Slurred. Eyes shot red—you were unsure if he was even truly conscious.

“Sshh” You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your lips to his neck. “I’m so sorry baby. Let’s get you to bed. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”

You felt something cold against your skin. Tears. Your heart dopped into a pit. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me” He mumbled into your skin. Carefully, you led Jimin into the bed, slipping under the sheets next to him. You held him close to your chest, hoping that the beat of your heart might give him some solace.

Jungkook’s words echoed in your mind: You have more pressing issues than Taehyung right now. You thought back to the previous day. How Namjoon had so easily convinced you to give up on the man who clearly adored you? He baited you. Swung the news of Yoongi’s death in your face all too conveniently. Was Namjoon working for Taehyung too? The two men hardly ever interacted. But you were cross examining everything you ever thought you believed. The only truth you could hold onto now, was Jimin.

Jimin had no reason to lie. No reason to kill Yoongi because you had already chosen Jimin. Whoever killed Yoongi needed a good enough motive. Taehyung had motive—he wanted Death Valley to himself. There wasn’t anyone else unless…

Your eyes fluttered shut.

It must have been the middle of the night. You felt Jimin stir next to you. Cautiously you let your eyes flutter open.

Jimin jumped up, gasping for air suddenly. He was breathing heavily, a cold sweat breaking out all over him. You quickly brought a glass of water to him, guiding it to his lips. Stroking his back, you calmed him down until he was able to look you in the eye.

“Get the fuck out of my house” His voice came out broken. As though he had been yelling into a void for hours and no longer had any fight left in him. When you didn’t move, he pushed you away. “Did you hear me? I said get out.”

The frightening part was that he wasn’t raising his voice. Anger laced each syllable that left his quivering lips. A sense of desperation swept over you—he had to hear you out.

“Jimin—baby, I’m sorry, okay I was faking it” Jimin leaped out of the bed, the glass of water spilling across the bed. His fists were clenched tight. Jaw locked, eyes glaring.

“I don’t care why you did it, Y/n. You promised me you would come straight home from work. You didn’t. I come and find that you publicly agreed to marry someone else?” He huffed, kneeling to shuffle through his drawers. He found his pill bottle, twisting the cap off and dropping a few tablets into his palm. You went over to him, grabbing his wrist before he could take them.

“Why do you think I made such a fuss about you leaving? I don’t want to suffocate you Y/n. I don’t want to hold you back but fuck can you blame me for being scared? I swear one day you’re saying you love me the next you’re off with Yoongi or making out with Namjoon. I love you—and I think you love me too. If you’re planning something tell me. You keep hurting me Y/n—you keep making me miserable by breaking my heart” Looking you dead in the eye, he tossed the pills into his mouth, gulping them down.

“Jimin. I know you didn’t kill Yoongi. Namjoon thinks you did, and I admit, for a moment I believed him. But then I got thinking, and I realized it had to be Taehyung” You let go of his hand, only for Jimin to sat back down on the bed, head hanging over in defeat.

“And in all that time you had to think you couldn’t bother to give me a fucking phone call?” Jimin gritted through his teeth. You knew he was right. You had been acting out for some time now—and the fact of the matter was: you were overwhelmed.

Jimin watched your conflicted face. So much had happened. You had never taken a second to truly reflect. Realizing you loved Yoongi despite his obsessiveness. Finding out what he had done to you. First you thought Jimin had died at the hands of Yoongi—then Yoongi at the hands of Jimin, all while Namjoon had been pining for you, and you faced the biggest betrayal when Taehyung left you to die in the fire.

“I can’t do this” Your voice barely above a whisper, you quickly began to gran your things. You needed to be alone. You needed to think. You dashed for the door but Jimin was faster. He blocked you with his arm, cornering you against the door.

“You’re not leaving”

“You literally told me to get out” You screamed. It didn’t matter than he hadn’t raised his voice. It didn’t matter than he was only inches away from you.

“You do not speak to me like that” Jimin whispered. His eyes bore holes into yours. You shuddered under his gaze. “Do you understand?”

You nodded.

Jimin hissed, fingers cupping your jaw. Tilting your face towards his. “Words”

“Yes”

His gaze shifted. You recognized it right away. The predatory, lustful gaze whenever he wanted you. Pupils turning dark. Laser sharp.

“Let me in” He whispered against your cheek. His breath tingling against the heat rising to your face. “Let me in to that twisted little head of yours”

You kissed him.

With a slight turn of your head your lips were on his. Familiar. Comforting. Yet ablaze with the same carnal desire as when you first met him. It was exhaustion and relief. It was pain and sadness. It was you and him. Nothing so imperfect, so uniquely flawed had ever made more sense to you.

“I love you” Your lungs had no air—but the words were easy to say. In a sea of lies maybe this was the only truth you needed. Gasping you jumped up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his hips—arms around his neck. He was warm. Melting you down. Inhibitions released.

He was being gentle. You may have wanted him to be rough but it wasn’t what you needed right now. He carefully carried you back into the kitchen, setting you on the countertop. Shelved between your thighs he gripped your hips, rocking to a slow rhythm, your bodies pressed up tight.

His fingers trailed over you, until his hands found your face. Cupping your cheeks he kissed you more intensely. His lips were so soft. Incredibly sweet. Everything else seemed to disappear.

He backed away, catching his breath. When his eyes fluttered open, you could appreciate again how beautiful this man was.

“You drive me crazy Y/n” He blinked at you, pressing his forehead to yours. You grinned—to which he lifted you back up as you squealed, giggling as he swung you around. Pressing your back against he wall he held you steady on his thigh, fingers finding your aching core. Gazing into you, he watched as you squirmed under his touch. Your pussy clenching as he rubbed tight circles against your clit. He was beyond turned on, seeing the way your eyes rolled back as he touched you. The way your lips parted and you fingers dug into his flesh.

“Shit you’re so fucking hot” He let you land on your feet before dropping to his knees. You stared down at him in shock, hand weaving through his hair as he peeled off your panties. He pressed his nose to your pelvis, breathing you in deeply. You blushed, thighs trembling as his tongue found your clit, licking soft kittenish striped around the sensitive flesh.

Heat burned through you—twitching through your veins. Your heart pounded, nails scraping against his scalp—tugging at his hair. “F-fuck, baby” You moaned—his hands pushing your thighs apart.

“You taste so good baby” His deep voice vibrated through you. You sighed, missing his warmth suddenly. Pulling him back up you pulled him in for another kiss—tasting yourself on his wet lips. Your tongue sliding over his. Moans passing softly between the little space between you two.

“Want you inside me” You felt him smirk under your lips, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah?” He breathed into you, cocky, teasing—edging you on. “Of course you do” His hands slid to your ass, roughly grabbing a handful before spanking you lightly. He rolled his hips into you, bulge pressed against your clit. The friction was amazing, but you wanted him to fill you up. You needed him deep inside. Needed to feel closer.

Your fingers tugged at his waistband, and Jimin simply chuckled as you pulled down his pants. Not missing a beat he hooked your leg over his elbow, kissing your ankles—down your calf, before finding your lips again. His other hand tugged at his cock, lining it up with you—grinning when he felt your weat heat suck in his tip so eagerly.

“You’re dripping for me angel” He whispered. You blushed, quivering as he sank a little deeper into you. You pulled off your shirt. He bottomed out, staring at your chest.

“Fuck, why are you so perfect?” He groaned, unsure if it was from the pleasure of being inside your tight cunt or your breasts hanging out in front of him, all for him—him only. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, eyes glued to the way you face twitched with pleasure. He loved how you looked when he made you feel good. He never wanted to stop. One hand steadying your leg, he carefully pulled out all the way till the tip—your slick coating him, dripping from him. It was amazing to see, as he entered you again, his breath became shaky. You felt so good, so warm around him. You were the best he’d ever had.

Forearms caging your head, he gently traced the side of your face, dragging out and thrusting back in. It was red—heat—burning desire. He took it slow, but you could feel his desperation in every move. His lips brushed over yours, his taste a whisper away.

You lowered your leg, pushing him away so you could turn around. Quickly discarding his own shirt, he cupped your breasts with his hands before pressing his chest into your back. His fingers leaving sparks across your body as his cock slipped back inside you, the sound of his hips pounding against your ass echoing through the room.

“Fuck” He cursed, kissing the nape of your neck before grabbing your hair—pushing your face to press up against the wall. Lips on your jaw, moaning your name as he thrusted in and out, like he had no time to lose. You gasped for air. His cock filling you up so good, hitting you right where you liked it. Your legs felt numb, trembling in bliss as he continued to drive into you.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He whispered into your mouth. Your eyes were watering with need. “Oh, poor baby wants to cum so fucking bad doesn’t she?” You nodded weakly, his fingers finding your clit again. Flicking at it.

“Jimin—” Your voice was broken. Lost in pleasure, “Feel—so good, fuck”

He smiled, “Go ahead baby—look at me when you cum. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock”

Your eyes locked. It was want. Need. And everything in between. This was all you’d ever wanted, it had always been him. You weren’t ready when you first met him, and neither was he. You weren’t what he expected, and he was everything except your fantasy.

In it’s own, twisted way, it was love at first sight. Obsession at first sight. Hate—turned into something so beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum, Jimin” You liked that you could say his name. You liked that he would say yours. His eyes softened as he felt you tighten around him. It hit you like lightening—you fell apart in pleasure. It was ecstasy—the high you’d been chasing all along. The high only he could give you. He groaned loudly, spilling into you moment after as you twitched in his hold. You dripped all around him, soaking your thighs.

“I love you, Y/n” He kissed you deeply, panting into you, “I love you so much”

“I love you too, Jimin, always” You assured him—cupping his face, “It’s always gonna be you”

“Talk to me” He gazed at you sincerely, nothing but adoration in his eyes, “Just talk to me, whatever you’re thinking, I wanna know. Okay, I trust you. So please, just trust me too”

You nodded, leaving a final chaste kiss lingering on his lips. “I do. I have one last thing to take care of, and then I promise we can go away. Trust me one last time. I’ll come back to you”

You were never a high heels kind of girl. But there was a lot of press tonight—press expecting you to make an appearance tonight. The stunt had created so much buzz that Hobi specifically hired hair and makeup for you. He allowed Namjoon to pick out your dress—it was black. Tight fitting. Simple. Sleek. Teardrop diamond earrings and a small necklace.

You’d never wear this to a concert. How were you supposed to dance? Let loose. But then you remembered—tonight wasn’t supposed to be fun. Not for you.

You had thought long and hard about what you were going to say to the press waiting early outside. Hobi instructed you to wait for Namjoon before making an entrance. You called Jimin earlier, letting him know where your head was at. He seemed to be supportive of whatever decision you decided to go—as long as you didn’t embarrass him any further.

It had been a while since you had seen Namjoon. He had always been somewhat of an afterthought, and yet you knew you had led him on hopelessly. It was time to come clean. You were unsure how he would take it.

“Wow” Namjoon stood in the doorway of your fitting room. Leaning against the side—he looked breathtaking. Ripped jeans, black tank top—were those earrings? Your eyes widened. You’d never seen him in glam, but admittedly it suited him. His abs protruding through the soft fabric. He looked like a dream.

He looked like Jimin. Back then.

“Why would you want me in heels?” You whined, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek, “Please let me change”

He pouted—as he always did, knowing full well you’d never say no to his pretty eyes. “I like knowing you’re dressed for me” You giggled, inviting him inside to sit down.

“God, I want you right now” He looked up at you, hands on your sides, running up and down the silky fabric. Pinching at it. Ready to tear it off of you in a moment. And you knew he could—his biceps flexing, you had almost forgotten how big he was. How strong.

You clicked your tongue, teasing him as you slid his hands off. “You have to get ready for your big night”

Namjoon ran his fingers through his hair, leaning back slightly. “I wanted to talk to you about that actually—can I bring you out on stage? I wrote a new song about you, and was planning to open with it”

You shifted your weight. Clearing your throat in discomfort. You truly had wanted to wait until after the show to talk to Namjoon about your relationship—but this complicated things.

Like a saving grace, Hobi appeared in the doorway. “Your limo is here, let’s go”

You held onto Namjoon’s arm. Taking a deep breath, the two of you stepped outside where cameras were lined up for miles. Lights. Flashing. Your name being called. Shouted. It was dizzying. The limo door was open and Namjoon led you there, allowing you to slide in with ease. The car was gorgeous inside—golden velvet seats, glasses of champagne. So this was the life of a rockstar’s girlfriend.

You were an object. Candy on the arms of someone who mattered.

Namjoon noticed your demeanor change, covering your hand with his. “Like I was saying baby, I really want my fiancée up there with me for my first concert”

The word stuck out like a sore thumb. It made you nauseous to think about. “Namjoon—that wasn’t real” You reminded him cautiously. You couldn’t afford to make him upset, not right now.

Namjoon was taken aback. He looked baffled, hand moving to your wrist. “It was to me. You love me, don’t you?”

Oh God. You paused.

You shouldn’t have paused.

“You love me, don’t you?” He repeated his words. Except his voice was getting loud. The space was getting small. The windows were tainted black. The lights were too dim to see clearly. You licked your lips nervously, carefully trying to pull your hand away from him.

You needed to speak. You had to tell him the truth, but when you looked into his eyes you saw something familiar. Something deranged. Yoongi’s eyes.

“You ungrateful whore” Namjoon’s voice was booming. You’d never heard him yell. Never thought him capable. Your eyes shut, shielding you from his terrifying voice. “Don’t you know everything I’ve done for you? I’m the only one who really knows you—knows what you want. And I became that—look at me Y/n” He grabbed your face, “I am everything you have ever wanted. I’ve been by your side through all of it. I’m the only one who gives you control. I saved you Y/n—I protected you every step of the way. I didn’t know bringing you to Death Valley was putting you in danger but Taehyung promised it would mess with Jimin so I agreed.”

Your eyes flew open. “Wait what?”

“I saved you from the fire Y/n—when Taehyung tried to kill you—it was me! I waited outside of Jimin’s apartment for days, I even tried to break in and get you out. We’ve taken on the world together Y/n. It was always us against them”

Jungkook’s words came back to you again. I wouldn’t put it past him to be behind this.

“You’re saying, you knew Taehyung was behind all of this, from the very beginning? I thought you two had never met”

A panicked look crossed Namjoon’s eyes. He gripped your shoulders, shaking you lightly. “We hadn’t met. Technically”

You rolled your eyes, “Well Namjoon—technically, I didn’t say I loved you. So get the fuck off of me”

He didn’t move, “You can’t be serious Y/n—I’m the reason he hasn’t been able to hurt you. I protected you from him, from Jimin, from Yoo—”

Your phone buzzed. Namjoon tilted his neck in irritation as you clumsily pulled it out. Taehyung? You opened the text—your eyes widened. Namjoon’s eyes narrowed as your breathing came to a sudden halt. Blinking, you put your phone away, meeting Namjoon’s desperate gaze once again.

“Tell them to stop the car”

You could feel him tremble, his nails digging into your flesh. “No”

“It was you. You killed Yoongi—and tried to pin it on Jimin” You shivered in his hold. You couldn’t have another Yoongi in your life. Another man who was willing to shape your environment to have you. To control you. To see you as nothing more than a trophy.

“Yoongi was horrible to you. I did you a favor, baby. I did everything you wanted. You owe me” Namjoon hissed—his hold unwavering. He dove for your lips, roughly snatching them between his. Anguish flooding through his touch. You groaned—unable to move—unable to push him away.

He was so big. His muscular chest pressing against you. His breath hot, mingling with yours. Eyes shut—lost in bliss while yours were wide open. You had never seen more clearly. When had Namjoon become this monster? And had it been your fault all along? Did you do this to him?

As guilt plagued your thoughts, Namjoon took it as an opportunity to go further. Other hand on your thigh, he slipped his fingers under your dress—hooking them around your panties before yanking them both down sharply. The fabric burned against your sensitive skin. But he could care less. His bulge was throbbing, pressed tight against your hole he jerked his hips. The button of his jeans giving a painful relief to your core.

As if awaken from a haze you placed your hands on his chest—attempting to push him away. He smirked at your effort—you couldn’t move him. There was no way. Namjoon was far stronger than you—and you knew that.

With a swift motion of his hand he unbuttoned his pants, allowing his eager cock to spring up. Tugging at it, he looked back into your eyes. You shuddered at what you saw. He was gone. The Namjoon you knew wasn’t in there. He had lost it.

“Wait—” You could barely breathe. The lack of air driving you to a sense of faintness. Weakly you called out his name, hoping you could get to him. Break through to the Namjoon you really knew.

“Don’t fucking act so innocent, Y/n” He hissed, “I know you better than all of them. I know you love this. I know you want to slobber all over my cock, let me bounce you up and down on it until your crying for me. I know you want it to hurt—baby I’ll make it hurt” He tightened his grip. Instinctively your fingers came up to your neck, attempting to pry him off so you could breathe. “I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted don’t you see, Y/n? It’s always been me. By your side from the very beginning. I’ve seen it all. Every step of the way. I love you and you love me it’s been us against the world—don’t you see?” His words were incoherent. You were beginning to lose consciousness. At some point Namjoon slid inside you. Lips parted in pleasure, he thrust into you—tight and hard.

Your eyes threatened to close. Mind going blank as the image of him began spotting. You didn’t know who you were wishing to come save you. You were so tired of being saved. Of needing to be.

Weakly you slid your hand up his chest. Over his neck and cupped his cheek. Kiss me—you tried to speak but nothing came out. Namjoon seemed to get the hint though. He let you go and you gasped for air—a short lived effort when he swallowed your lips once again.

His cock burned inside of you, dragging against your walls your pussy trying to push him out but he heathed himself deeper and deeper. It felt good—you hated that it did. You hated that it was him as his lips slid to your neck, sucking love bites across your shoulders.

You felt claustrophobic. You needed air. You needed space—tears began to build in your eyes. Your free hand searched for your phone—fumbling it in your hands as you dialed the name popping up. You felt the device vibrate, and a wave of relief swept over you. You were not going to surrender.

You still had a little fight left in you.

“You didn’t just kill Yoongi” Your fingers found the back of his head. Namjoon looked up—lips swollen, breathing heavily. Eyes blasted with lust and need. “You became him”

Namjoon growled, shifting you with ease until you were on top of him, holding your neck against the car door. You grinned—reaching for the champagne glass you tosses the liquid in his face.

Reflexive, his hands went to his face, wiping the burning alcohol from his eyes and in that moment you rolled aside, opening the car door. It didn’t matter than your panties were hanging from your ankle. It didn’t matter that your neck was bruised.

The car was driving fast. There was no one else around. You could jump.

Weighing your options in your head, you hear a loud engine some ways in the distance. A motorcycle caught up to the limo—the rider, a bed of jet black wavy hair that you recognized all too well. Eyes closed, you took a moment, Namjoon grabbed for you but you kicked him off.

You jumped.

Namjoon arrived at the venue, royally pissed off. You ruined his big night—how could you? Were you really that selfish? He knew Jimin would be there. He was ready to put an end to things once and for all. No gun on him—he wasn’t worried. Jimin was small. Jimin was weak. And not nearly as devoted to you as he was. Not willing to go the extra mile to have you.

Ignoring the cameras who plagued him with questions, he pushed past the crowds and marched backstage. His fists trembling, his heart beating fast—blood pumping adrenaline like never before. He was feral. Ready to kill on sight.

Jimin stood backstage, sitting at a mirror and touching up his own makeup. He noticed Namjoon behind him, eyes rolling slightly.

“Good, you’re here” Jimin said, a mocking tone in his voice. Upon closer look, Namjoon could see that Jimin had been removing his makeup. “Hobi has been informed, but I will not be performing tonight. The stage is all yours, asshole.”

Namjoon grabbed Jimin’s arm, “What?”

Jimin chuckled, “You’re such a fucking idiot. Though I suppose all new stars are” He looked him up and down, “Wow, you’re real original aren’t you? Are those my clothes?”

Namjoon swung a punch. Jimin ducked in time. He was no idiot. He knew he couldn’t fight Namjoon.

Luckily, he wouldn’t have to. He had already won.

“Aren’t you wondering where Y/n is?” Namjoon hissed, pacing around Jimin ready to swing at him again.

“I know where she is, Namjoon. I also know what you did to her. And if it were up to me, I’d shoot your sorry ass into the ground right now” Jimin sighed, “But that’s not what she wants. So go out there, and do what you’ve always dreamed of. Leave me and Y/n alone because I swear to you Namjoon—I might leave but I’m always gonna have eyes on you—and I’ll have you dead in an instant.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah” Namjoon turned to see Hobi, gun in hand. “It is. Do what you were hired to do, Namjoon. Let her go”

Namjoon screamed, falling to the floor. Jimin and Hobi exchanged amused looks.

“We better get some great songs out of this” Hobi muttered to Jimin. He grinned widely.

One year later.

The warm glow of early morning sun rays filtered through the white curtains. Your eyes fluttered open, a sense of bliss washing over you as you processed your surroundings. Outside the ocean glimmered, waves softly scathing over the shore. Children ran across the sand—couples played in the water. You turned back to see the love of your life lying peacefully, tangled in the white sheets. The comforter hanging off of him, his toned back bare and ever so still. You picked up his shirt from the ground, buttoning it up as you walked over to the window.

A package was waiting for you. A black box, tied neatly with a red ribbon—no indication of who it was from, or where. You noticed the window was cracked open a smidge. Carefully you untied the ribbon, sliding the top off the box to reveal its components.

It was a leather jacket. The jacket. Jimin's jacket.

You look outside, searching—unsure what for. You see a camera on the edge of the building across from yours.

You smile.

Setting it aside, you quickly crawl back into bed, wrapping your arms over Jimin’s back, and pressing kisses all over his neck. He hums softly, unwilling to wake up. You nuzzle against him, before allowing your eyes to fall shut once again. Dreams overtaking you.

series navi | masterlist | scream in my ask box

a/n: and scene! thank you for reading and for being so incredibly patient! i hope this was satisfying <3 i love you all!!

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hhnguyen · 2 months

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10 days late but anyway; Happy 1-Year Anniversary to when I first began my beloved Sully Family series!! 💙💙

Hope everyone is having an amazing day wherever in the world you are!

So here's a little something to celebrate ;)

Jake must be dreaming.

An incredibly, vivid dream where his fingers were twitching to reach out and pinch his arm to wake up.

Because there was no other way.

Why was he looking at you?

Why were you standing in front of him? Grinning, as if decades had not passed since you left his side.

Since he failed to save his little girl.

His throat was dry. Or drying up with each second passing by. Because he was too afraid to swallow - to move.

As if the minuscular movement would wash away the image of you in front of him.

But he wasn't the one who moved next. You did.

As if that grin couldn't widen any more, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching up as your forever youthful face stared back at him.

"Hi daddy."

Jake gasped, a shuddering breath coming deep within as his knees buckled and his hands curled into the seemingly fresh, but dry patch of grass beneath him.

Everything was bright; yet warm but quiet. A soothing breeze caressing his skin every few seconds. Despite his emotions, Jake Sully felt at peace. No heavy burden draped over his shoulders for some reason.

A warm hand encased his own against the grown, smaller in size but familiar. Like an old friend.

"I'm real," Your gentle voice whispered with that continuous grin, lowering down to your own knees in front of him to catch his gaze. "I'm here, daddy."

Words would not escape him. His mouth opening and closing.

His hand reached out transfixed, hesitating mid-air not wanting this moment to disappear. But your form did not move. Patiently waiting until his fingertips grazed the warm skin of your cheek.

Before long, his much larger palm cupped the side of your face as your steady facade finally crumbled, eyes fluttering shut with a single tear trailing down your cheek at the warmth of his touch.

Jake was crying. His tears had no stop as he cradled his baby girl's face - pulling you close until your foreheads rested gently against each other in comfort.

"My beautiful baby," He croaked out overrun emotions he could hardly differentiate. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too." Your smile was wavering, but genuine. "Every day."

You started to pull back slowly, but his grip remained firm, not wanting to let you go. To remain in this moment as long as possible

"It's okay." You assured him, however, as Jake opened his eyes and followed your lead by rising to his feet. "I'm not going anywhere."

Looking around with his hand never leaving yours, Jake looked around carefully. Not understanding how it seemed so familiar, yet not quite so.

"Where are we, flower?" His muscles were stiff for a different reason now, cautiousness coating his senses as he fought against the instincts to pull you closer and protect you within his embrace.

"Look closer, Dad - Take a deep breath."

Listening to you, Jake let himself take a breath and within a single blink his surroundings changed.

His breath hitched, a small sound as he stared out and then further up of their large structure around them. The natural hollows and alcoves intertwined above their heads.

Places he remembered taking, the memories getting clearer.

The Hometree.

Their Hometree.

From before they lost everything.

Jake understood then.

You squeezed his hand, form leaning against his side with a serene expression.

"We're home, daddy."

Did I shed a tear? Yes.

#hannitalks #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar imagine #sully family x reader #sully family #sully reader #dad jake sully #jake sully x daughter

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sicklyseraphnsuch · 7 months

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Episode 9

Let's give Simon an earlier realization of the problems in his relationship. Let's dedicate episode 9 to Simon coming to terms with those problems instead of literally spoonfeeding it to him in one episode. So let's say Simon goes into episode 9, taking Fionna's comments about Betty to heart, and so we revise the Betty scenes.

Fionna and Cake have their nightmare and return to their world like in the show. But when we cut back to Simon...

We see the Scarab wakes up before Simon in that endless void. He sees Simon fully unconscious and he rushes to him. But before he can end him, he looks up and freezes in place. The camera never shows what he sees but he yells at whoever to stay out of it. He tries to finish his job but inexplicably, he turns into tiny bug versions every single time he tries to hurt Simon. Until finally he skitters into Simon's world to escape whatever keeps thwarting him.

Zoom in on Simon's face. Eyes twitch almost as if their fluttering open. Smash cut.

A bus stop. Simon blinks and sees himself standing before Betty, her letter clutched in his hand.

Simon does the same thing he did in the show, he offers to go with her. Then he realize this isn't how it went. And Betty smiles. The world slowly dissolves to the black space. Tetris shapes begin to fill the void.

"Hi Betty, long time no see. It seems I haven't been fair to you. I kept looking to you like you're supposed to be everything. But being someone's whole world is… exhausting." Simon laughs wryly as he scratches his head with the back giving off a telltale sparkle. " I shouldn't have put that on you. And I should have noticed all that you were doing for me…"

Simon begins to transform from his professor looks to his post apocalyptic looks.

"You remain the great love of my life. Nothing can change that. But... we've changed, haven't we?"

Betty in turn begins to change, first into Simon's fiance then into Magic Betty.

Smash cut to Fionna and Cake desperately fighting for their lives.

"It was a long road to get here. And I have found more people to love."

Simon cycles into Ice King before finally transforming into his present self.

"And I should be so lucky that they love me back. I can't... I can't just leave them like this. I'm a sad old man that kept looking for lost things and missing the stuff right in front of his face. I want to do better, Betty. I have to."

Smash cut to Fionna and Cake again.

And Betty makes her final transformation into Golb. Simon finds himself standing in front of her in all her new glory. He feels his pocket buzzing and he realizes that they're in trouble.

"No, no, no. What was all that for? If I just keep going back?" He eyes the Crown before tossing it at Betty. "There has to be another way. I'm not done yet."

Betty's eyes lift up. She pulls out Fionna and Cake's world as in the show.

"Oh. Always rescuing me, even now..." Simon is more than a little bitter. But he takes the world and he gives it to Fionna.

Smash cut to Fionna and Cake as in show.

After, Simon looks up at Betty. The faint image of their past selves lurk over their shoulders as the same moment a thousand years apart repeats itself. With Simon looking up as Betty readies herself to leave.

"I can't do much for you now. But I will tell you what I should have told you then. Thank you for everything. If only I could come with you where you're going but since I can't... Then I hope you find your happiness wherever you go... Goodbye, Betty."

And then Betty does as she does in the show. Episode 9 ends with Simon in the flower field.

Episode 10 is a flashback to present Ooo. In the time since Simon's departure, his family and friends have worked themselves up, crazy with worry. It's a comedy of errors as each callback character comes up with worse and worse ideas to find Simon. Until mid episode Simon comes back to his house with a crown - a flower crown.

"Hey gang... uh... what's going on? are we having a party? ... At my house? Without telling me?"

"SIMON!"

Cue dogpile.

Cue epilogue.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #simon petrikov #betty grof #fionna and cake spoilers

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gglitch1dd · 2 years

Text

Blood and Fire Pt2

Context: Kirishima and Bakugou embody fire, flames and destruction. Their path of carnage and love for their beautiful culture is evident. Yet, who could have thought a human could be soulmates to people like them.

A/N: Hey, so people really wanted a part 2 to this. In all honesty, I already posted this on AO3 but totally forgot to post it here. So I'm sorry my beloved Tumblr fans. It's here.

Note: This chapter is just to be established on Dragon island. Dead animals, eating raw meat (not reader), Heights!, Barbarians being a Matriachal society because I say so, Barbarian men being good boys and listening to their females as they should, story telling, discussions about mating but no Spice yet.

Babe – a term to address a baby/ young child or someone much younger than you (10 years younger or more)

You found yourself in a very odd position. One you didn’t know what to do with. For starters, you were kidnapped and yet you found yourself… okay? Dare you say… happy? You weren’t entirely sure. On the one hand, no one had harmed you and yet every other moment you felt as though something could harm you.

You had spent little than three days in the mountain and you couldn’t call it a bad experience. There was a routine, one you quickly grabbed on to.

Mornings were slow yet nice. With yawns shuffling, and warm limbs. At first it was startling, having never slept beside a man before, let alone two, but even with your racing mind, everything felt right. They kept you in the middle, a way of integrating you into their lives which they had done so already with ease. Kirishima was a heavy mass of sleep and warmth. An arm was always around you, keeping you close to him, and his other always finding its way to hold Bakugou in some way or the other. Bakugou was often the first one awake, body the same as Kirishima but eyes blinking slow and mind at peace. You liked the mornings.

They were often followed with Bakugou dragging you out of bed which led to the two of you having to pull Kirishima out of bed (he hated mornings) and start your day. You were given Barbarian native clothing to wear. It was odd at first because you had never worn something so short before. Adorned in a short skirt or shorts with nothing but bindings covering your chest. But the jewellery was extravagant. You were treated like something sacred. Something to be worshiped and on display for all to see.

It was an odd experience. Dragons had no problem of showing affection nor intimacy in public. It was actually encouraged. Yet at the same time you found it so peculiar yet almost cute.

All the dragons seemed to be like Kirishima and hate mornings. Mornings were the quietest part of the day in the mountain caves and tunnels that made the dragon tribe’s home. Hatchlings were still clinging to their parents and adults still yawned and shook sleep off their shoulders. Even eating was done slow almost enjoying the peace of the early part of the day.

Once sleep had left the giant reptilian like beasts, that’s when the community got to work. Bakugou and Kirishima showed you all that made it function. From the wildlife that lived in the mountain range up with them, to even hatchlings learning how to catch, hunt and fly. Most of them had the tiny wings but couldn’t use them just yet.

It was also the time of day where the hatchlings would use you for hunting practise. Often it would end up with you on the floor, being used as a chew toy and cushion for children not even taller than your knees. They would growl, giggle and bite at you, tickling and nipping at you with their tiny sharp teeth that could harm you if they weren’t so focused on the fact that you were so soft. The adults would often just laugh it off, finding it amusing.

Once being saved by Kirishima, you would spend some time with Bakugou trying to teach you to become stronger. To increase your stamina and strength. He kept on telling you how you needed to be stronger. You didn’t understand what he meant, but you guessed that it had to do with living up in the mountains with them so you went with it. Bakugou was a harsh teacher and very strict. He didn’t allow slacking and it was the only time he was ever truly mean to you. Or you took it as him being a jackass to you.

Of course, once he had his way, he would make sure you were okay. Wiping any scratches you might have earned or helping with your sore limbs.

Once sun had set and it turned dark, that’s when the beasts were the most lively. With so many stories and tales to tell, dances to learn and all the fights to watch. You didn’t understand the fights but they were apparently part of their culture. Used to determine rank and just for the sport of it. Often than not, Kirishima would be dragged into these fights.

You knew Kirishima was never really an aggressive person, or at least not with you. He was sweet and kind to you. Even when you would hesitate to be near him or stay closer to Bakugou since he was the most human looking out of the two of them, he never questioned you or took offence to it. Always approaching you carefully and making sure you knew he meant no harm to you. No harm to anyone. He led with a smile on his face and a caring attitude. You never thought such a leader could exist. As much as he was strict in his own ways and very morally led, he was gentle and sweet. He especially loved the hatchlings, and they all love him.

So it was quite the surprise to you when you saw him fight for the first time. You weren’t blind, you knew the hard-earned muscles on his body were not just for show and tell, that he worked hard for them and could use them well to his advantage, but it still shocked you. He had a level of grace to his broadness and strength that made you wonder just how right Bakugou was. How great of a race he was part of that was so much unlike your own. You mostly watched the fights silently at Bakugou’s side, analysing and wondering who was going to win. The blond next to you however was always certain.

“GET HIM IN THE EYES EIJIRO!” He would shout with a look of excitement and a grin on his face. “YOU BETTER WIN, I DON’T SHARE NESTS WITH LOSERS!”

That would often earn a chuckle from people who could hear him, finding the blond’s commentary and form of encouragement amusing.

After all the hustle and bustle of the evenings, that’s when there was dinner. Dinner as you learnt on your first day there, was a bloody affair.

A very bloody affair.

On the day you arrived, it had apparently been asked for dinner to be cooked that night as a sign of trying to get you comfortable. Then you realized the next day that cooked dinner wasn’t an every day occurance for dragons. You were slightly horrified when you watched a raw leg of an animal (deer you had later learned) being placed in front of you, Bakugou and Kirishima like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then everyone just started eating.

You watched with wide eyes as children casually had blood on their faces and toyed with their food. You looked to Kirishima and Bakugou expecting some explanation. All you got was Kirishima practically drooling over the muscles in front of him and Bakugou waiting for the redhead to tear it apart. Bakugou looked to see you rather uneasy. Uneasy was putting it lightly.

Terrified?

More like it.

Although dragons could cook their food, and often did (thanks to Bakugou bringing his knowledge of spices and flavouring to the dragons), it was more of an every-other-day occurrence. Unlike humans that needed to often cook their food if they wanted to eat it (to digest it better), dragons didn’t need to. Having already very efficient digest systems and being predatory beings, it was instinctive to eat your food how you caught it. It was their way of indulging that primal part of them that they kept down more than you would know.

You didn’t eat anything other than a potato that night. However, the next night when you had found your dinner bloodier than you would have wanted it, Bakugou gave you a separate more cooked dinner for you to eat having noticed your lack of appetite the previous night. You thanked him but he saw it as no big deal. He was just providing for you, it was natural. By the end of dinner most nights, even Bakugou had had his fair share, his mouth having a pink hue to it. Kirishima would be biting on a bone trying to bite the non-existent meat that was still on it. He always asked you if you wanted any. Not like there was anything left but it was the thought that counts.

Finally, after a hectic day, it was time to sleep. Often there would be little packs formed by the hatchlings and families of the tribe. Hatchlings would pile atop one another and sleep in bundles in nests while their parents would hang around them, making sure they were safe and warm in the middle of it all. Above all else in the tribe, community was everything. No one felt alone or cold. It was about keeping everyone together and warm.

You found falling asleep hard. During the day it was easier to forget about how you initially got to where you were now. How your life had changed so drastically and the only way to cope and not fracture at it all was to keep going and accept everything around you. It was at these times, with warm bodies next to you and the sound of snoring dragons that you would wonder.

Why weren’t you trying to escape?

Were you okay with their odd and strange ways?

You were attracted to them. Why?

They took you away from your home and forced you into their life with no remorse or plan to maybe fit into your life.

There was so much to think about and so much that made your mind and your heart fracture and muddle more and more.

Yet it would all wash away the moment Kirishima move his head closer to yours and keep his arm tightly around your body, it would all wash away the moment Bakugou would bury his face on the top of your head and sigh in content. Your mind would clear, like a wave washing away the marks in the sand, and you would drift off to sleep, warm and peaceful.

When you had awoken on the fifth day, something was different. The cave was still warm with dim lights from the outside showing that it was just around dawn. You felt warm and safe in the big blankets and furs. In the den, Bakugou was bustling around the cave excitedly. He was packing some items in a bag, opening up chests and searching through piles of treasures. You watched him tired and confused as to what he was doing. He was like a little bee moving around trying to do his job.

Kirishima chuckled. He too was awake. His warm skin always bringing you comfort as he pulled your body back down to be right up against his chest. He was the warmest here, radiating a heat that you were not sure you could ever truly get used to. You were not sure whether it was the soulmate bond or maybe it was the feeling of being held and wanted that made you lean into him so easily. “Morning, sweetheart.” He greeted you, a voice deep yet fine like wine aged for decades. He waited for your body to relax naturally into his hold before nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, rubbing his cheek against your neck. Bakugou often told you that physical affection often calmed dragons.

“Morning.” You muttered back. You looked back out of the nest to Bakugou. “What’s Katsuki doing?” You asked as you rubbed your eyes of sleep.

Kirishima continued cuddling you, keeping his face close to your neck. A deep rumble came from his chest, showing his content. You liked his rumbles. Something like a purr but deeper and often tickled you whenever he was close to your neck. “We are heading to Katsuki’s village for a while.” Kirishima told you. Satisfied he brought you closer to him, placing his head atop of yours. “Katsuki loves his village, it’s where all his nestmates are and his parents. He is very excited to show it you.” He revealed to you, he still sounded sleepy.

“Which is why, we must get going.” Bakugou placed the bag down and walked back over to the both of you. “Now get up.”

Kirishima let out wide lion like yawn, his sharp teeth on display. Temporarily letting go of you, he stretched letting out a deep growl at his stiff muscles. With you still in his arms, he sat up. “Breakfast?” He asked.

“We can have breakfast there.” Bakugou motioned towards the exit of the cave.

Kirishima gave off an opposing grunt as he stood up with you in his arms. You were like a ragdoll to him, he was unaffected by your weight as if holding you was as simple as holding a stick. “I can’t fly on an empty stomach.” Kirishima grumbled as he pulled a blanket and wrapped you in it. You could easily get cold without him or Bakugou due to your temperature running lower than theirs. Being so higher up in the mountains, you were not used to the temperatures. Kirishima wrapped you in a bundle of furs and carried you, following Bakugou with a tired look on his face.

“It will be so quick Eijiro, you won’t even notice you’re hungry.” Bakugou waved him off.

“But I am hungry.” Kirishima grumbled with a frown as the two headed out the cave. The cool morning air nipped at your face as the morning mountain winds blew against the three of you. Kirishima yawned once more not minding the cold, steam escaping from his mouth showing the contrast between him and the cool winds.

Bakugou looked at the rather uninterested dragon. Kirishima wasn’t very up to the task right now. Bakugou frowned. He thought up a way to get Kirishima to get into action, then an idea struck him. He walked over to Kirishima who still held you safely in his arms. “Eijiro…” He drew out. Kirishima turned to him with a raised eyebrow wondering what Bakugou had up his sleeves. You both watched the blond in curiosity as he walked over to stand next to the both of you. “Please…” He ran his hands up Kirishima’s arms. “My big, strong, manly drake.” His crimson red eyes wide and begging up at Kirishima. He was trying to make himself seem weaker and in need. “I know you can do anything, and this wouldn’t be hard for such a powerful and majestic drake like you. You are our chief, are you not?” He asked, placing one of his hands on you, pulling you into his little scheme. “If you can’t do it for me, at least do it for our wonderful new soulmate. Look at them.” He motioned down to you, his seductive eyes now focused on your being making your face grow warmer. He brushed a hand over your forehead dearly. “This will be the first time they get to see your true form. Wouldn’t you want to show them just how big you are?” He asked Kirishima with a small smile.

Kirishima didn’t say anything. You moved your gaze up to Kirishima and even you went tense. His eyes held a dark message behind them. You weren’t sure if you were scared, anxious or attracted to it. A dark look but at the same time no emotion at all. He sighed. “You over did it with the ‘majestic’ my love, and what did I tell you about treating me like I’m some god. I get enough of it from your tribe already.” He carefully handed you to Bakugou, keeping you in his arms safely. Once Bakugou had his hands occupied, Kirishima roughly grabbed Bakugou’s chin and forced him to look up at him. Kirishima’s face still unreadable. “You do that again…” He started, his voice low and still husky with sleep. His tone of voice made your breathing halter, and your legs squeeze together. “And I’m breeding you where the whole tribe can see you, so that you learn not to test me when I’m hungry.”

He let go of Bakugou and turned to walk a few meters away from the both of you. Your mouth dropped open in shock. You looked over at Bakugou, your eyes wide. He looked down at you with a grin, seemingly unbothered by Kirishima’s warning. “That went well.” He commented. You gave him a look which made him laugh. “Don’t worry, my sweet setsuzoku.” He placed a kiss on your forehead (a rare commodity). “I’ll let you have the next round.”

“Uh Katsuki…” You chuckled out nervously. “I do not kno-”

Interrupting you was a loud roar that sent a chill down your spine. You looked to where Kirishima had gone to and you saw a huge amount of smoke but what really made you freeze was the gigantic dragon that sprouted from the smoke. Its scales were a dark almost black but in the sun shown a deep blood red. With two horns on his head and red wings that spanned wide, it roared into the air once more, deafening your ears to any other sound. You watched in awe as the mythical beast you were taught was extinct lowered its head towards you. The whites of its eyes were black and its irises were a haunting gold. Reptilian slit pupils locked onto you as it bent down to sniff you. You watched the giant beast with wide eyes. It exhaled warm breath fanning your face.

Bakugou lowered his head to the beast in front of him, he carefully put you down on the ground. “He wants to meet you.” He told you. You hesitated stepping closer to Bakugou away from the beast that could swallow you in one go. Bakugou chuckled and rubbed your arms over the blanket. “It’s alright to be scared, but he won’t hurt you.”

Bakugou easily aided you in walking closer to the dragon that didn’t make any sudden movements in front of you, although you did notice his tail move slowly behind him. Bakugou stayed behind you the entire time. Once close enough, his hand snaked down your arm to lift your hand up. He easily settled your hand onto the hot scales of the dragon’s snout. It breathed out more warm air fanning you. You let out a soft chuckle at how warm he was.

“Whoa.” You let out softly. You took another step closer to him, not scared but fascinated. This time Bakugou took a step back letting you interact with Kirishima on your own. His scales were smooth under your touch, beautiful and warm like coals. His pupils widened at the side of you and his eyes closed as he relaxed, pushing back against your arm nearly making you fall back. You let out a giggle at him returning your affection. “Hello Eijiro.” You whispered to him. “You’re… you’re gorgeous.” You told him petting his scales. The dragon’s tail moved faster at your compliment making you laugh. You turned to look back at a proud Bakugou. A soft look on his face as he watched you interact with Kirishima. “Is he always like this?” You asked.

Bakugou let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Nah.” He walked over to stand next to you as he folded his arms. “He recognises you as his soulmate.” Bakugou revealed to you. “He identifies you as a third part to him. He shall not harm you nor dream to make you fear him. He aims to protect you and care for you now. Isn’t that right, Eijiro?” He asked placing a hand on Kirishima.

The dragon opened his eyes and nudged his snout in Bakugou’s direction, forcing the blond to wrap his arms around his snout. You laughed at the action, which made Kirishima’s attention go to you. Suddenly a large wet tongue swiped up your face. You closed your eyes as you soon realized you were covered in dragon saliva. You wiped your eyes and face, your face scrunched up in disgust at the amount of it that was on you for such a quick action. Then you heard it, Bakugou’s laughter. You turned to the blond. His face was split into a bright smile, his laugh loud and his face as bright as his hair. You couldn’t even be mad at his amusement to your predicament because you were too distracted by the fact that the barbarian looked so pretty with such a smile on his face.

Kirishima turned his attention to Bakugou next. He swiped his tongue up Bakugou’s side as well as his face, making the blond barbarian instantly stop laughing. It was your turn to laugh at a Bakugou who was now covered in saliva. His hair brushed to the sky. He blinked in confusion before turning to Kirishima in a scowl. “You giant fucking lizard! I’ll-” Kirishima licked his face in the middle of his sentence making the blond shut up.

You laughed. You pet the side of Kirishima’s face. “Good job, Eijiro. Katsuki needs to shut up, doesn’t he?” You asked him. The dragon nodded his head affirmatively making you laugh.

“Oh yah?” Bakugou asked with a raised eyebrow. You glanced at Kirishima. You tried to run but the barbarian swept you up in his arms. You let out giggles as he started to tickle you in his arms. “Nope. Not getting away so easily.” He laughed. He moved the bag he was carrying to hang in front of him. He hoisted you up on his back, grabbing your thighs securely. He ran up and jumped onto the top of Kirishima’s head. He tapped the top of the beast’s head. “Lets go, Eiji.”

Kirishima let out a huff. He spread his wings and with a huge gust of air he pushed himself off the ground. You clung to Bakugou at the sudden change of altitude. You kept your eyes shut as you held onto his torso, tightening your legs around him. He laughed. “Open your eyes, Y/N!” He shouted. “The else you’ll miss it.”

You carefully pried your eyes open. “Miss wh-” The air was sucked out of you as you saw it. The entirety of Dragon Island. The huge vast island that irrupted from the sea with it’s mountain range behind you and the more softer and liveable lands in front of you. The clouds hung high with you as Kirishima’s expansive wings glided through the air for a moment. You were in awe at the scene in front of you. The morning sun just past dawn as the world started another day.

Bakugou’s light blond hair moved in the wind, his eyes closed as his face was tilted upwards. You were not sure how you knew this, but you knew that it wasn’t the view for him, it was the rush. The feeling of the wind in his hair and the weightless feeling of being up in the air away from everything. It was the freedom that came with flying, that he loved.

Kirishima stopped flapping for a moment, his body moving down towards the earth at a speed that made you scream out in terror as you wrapped your arms around Bakugou. Bakugou laughed as he held on to Kirishima’s horns in front of him. A huge grin on his face. The rush of falling at a rate faster than any thing you’ve ever experienced running through you with adrenalin. Although the sound of wind was near deafening in your ear, it was almost comforting. Kirishima glided over trees and land, heading towards a village not too far from the mountain. It was in a clearing with many barbarian tents and farmlands. It didn’t take you all longer than a few minutes before Kirishima was landing just outside of the village.

Barbarians seemed to rush and gather to head over to the three of you. You smiled up at Bakugou. “That was so cool!” You let out loudly making him laugh. “You get to do this all the time?” You asked him in disbelief.

“Yep.” He nodded. “And now you can too.” You shrugged the blanket off your shoulders since it was warmer down in the valley than on the mountain. Bakugou carefully held you as he slid down Kirishima’s scales. He held you safely so that you would not lose your balance due to the change in gravity for your body. Immediately you noticed the villagers all bowing towards the three of you, heads pressed down to the lush grass on their knees. Your eyes widened. Coming between all the people was a couple that made you look between them and Bakugou.

The couple wore similar clothes as to you and everyone else. Barbarian clothing. Although it wasn’t their clothing but their physical appearance that surprised you. The woman had familiar blond hair and red piercing eyes. She held a soft smile on her face as she had her hands on her waist. She was built strong, an obvious warrior and by the look of the headdress on her head, she was a high ranking one. Standing next to her with a kind smile on his face was a man with a hairstyle similar to Bakugou’s, all puffed out. He was however a brunette and had a small moustache too. He had glasses that sat on his nose that suited him well.

Before you could ask anything about them, there was another puff of smoke. After a few moments, Kirishima reappeared. He stretched his arms high into the air as he got accustomed to his man-like form. Once satisfied, he walked over to stand behind you and Bakugou. He placed one hand on each of your shoulders.

The blond woman was the first one to speak. She bowed at her waist along with her partner. “It is such an honour to be graced in your presence once again, your divine excellency.” She greeted with the outmost respect and devotion.

Kirishima smiled dearly. “No need for such praise, Mitsuki. I come here so often it shouldn’t even be granted a special occasion.”

“But it is.” She insisted, head still down in submission. “Every visit from you and your kind, no matter how frequent, is a gift onto our village.” She raised her head clapping her hands twice. The others raised their heads too. Her red gaze then went to the splitting image of her but masculine. She smiled at him. “Katsuki.” She said pleasantly.

Bakugou scowled at his mother, although she hadn’t done anything to him yet today, he couldn’t help but have distaste in his mouth. He knew it would be but a few humble moments before the female warrior would do something to piss him off. “Old hag.” He spat to her in greeting, but nevertheless, he dropped his head in respect to her.

You turned to Bakugou and Kirishima confused as to why he was being so rude to the pretty older woman. “Who is she?” You asked.

Kirishima looked back at the couple in front of the three of you. “These are Katsuki’s parents.” He motioned to the blond first. “Mitsuki…” He then motioned to the brunette man. “and Masaru Bakugou.” He introduced them to you. Masaru gave you a kind wave which you happily returned.

You then frowned as you looked to Bakugou. You placed your hands on your hips. “Katsuki!” He turned to you instantly, surprised at your tone of voice. The sound of a female shouting at him instantly gaining his attention. You looked at him with slight anger. “Is that how you treat your mother? By calling her an ‘old hag’? How disrespectful.” You scolded him.

“Yah!” Mitsuki agreed with you nodding her head. She turned to you. “Don’t worry babe, he’s been doing that since he was a little babe himself.” She told you brushing him off. Then she realized that she didn’t know you at all. She held no recollection of you and seeing that you were not dead nor tied up yet, you clearly were not a sacrifice. She tilted her head in a similar fashion to how Bakugou would. She turned to her husband. “Honey, do we know her? Is she from another village?” She asked him.

Masaru placed a hand to his chin as he thought to himself. He shook his head. “I don’t think we do, dear.” He answered her.

Bakugou pushed you slightly forward towards his parents. “This is our third.” He introduced you. Your eyes widened at the sudden push towards them. “Y/N.”

You looked at the Bakugous in front of you. You gave them an awkward smile as you bowed at the waist in greeting to them. “Good morning.”

Mitsuki was quiet for a moment before a huge smile went to her face. “Another one!” Without hesitation she grabbed you and hoisted you into the air. You let out a squeak in surprise as she held you like a rag doll and looked you over. “Look at you. You’re so beautiful and so respectful too. What a cute little soulmate.” She complimented. Compared to barbarians and dragons you were shorter than them, not by much but it was evident enough to see. She looked to Masaru. “Isn’t she just adorable Masaru? She’s so small.” She boasted.

Masaru laughed at his wife’s clear excitement at the presence of you. “Yes, dear.” He agreed with her.

Mitsuki turned back to you. “I like you.” She stated with a broad Bakugou grin. “You will make a fine Bakushima female. A fine part of our tribe.” She placed you down next to her, taking your arm in hers. She pointed to you and then looked to her son and his other soulmate. “Human, is she?” She asked them.

Bakugou nodded. “Yes, so be careful with her. We brought her here to get used to our customs not to be kidnapped by my overexcited mother.” He warned her with a pointed look.

Mitsuki rolled her eyes and waved a hand down. “Oh please, Katsuki. Don’t be stingy.” She dismissed her son easily making Bakugou release a low growl in anger, but his head down. Mitsuki turned her attention to Kirishima. “Eijiro, it is rather early. Have you eaten yet?” She asked. Kirishima opened his mouth, but his stomach spoke before he could. Due to his size and nature of his being, he was often eating. Another reason dragons ate their food raw was for it to stay in their body longer, reducing hunger. He gave her a sheepish smile, hoping his stomach answered her question. Mitsuki turned her intense gaze to her son. “Katsuki…” Bakugou knew that tone of voice and braced himself. A harsh slap went to the back of his head, even making you wince. “What type of soulmate are you, huh?” She asked loudly, eyes white in anger just like her son. She grabbed his ear and pulled his head down to the side with no restraint making the blond cuss at the pain. “Did I raise you so badly as for you to not feed his excellency? Just because you’re his soulmate doesn’t mean you must slack on your duties! What type of man are you as to not care and devote yourself to your soulmates? He’s starving! He looks like he’s already losing muscle! Are you happy knowing your mates are hungry and unsatisfied? Have you learnt nothing from your father’s example?” She tsked at him. Masaru shook his head in dismay at his wife’s actions, not the least bit surprised but couldn’t help the small smile at the indirect compliment from his soulmate.

You finally understood where Bakugou got his anger from. Bakugou snapped as he wretched his ear out of her grip. “OI! I’ve been a great soulmate!” He pointed to his bare chest. “I told him we could eat here! I-” Another harsh slap went to the back of blond head, but Mitsuku kept her hand at the back of his head. She forced his head down in submission.

“Eijiro can eat whenever he chooses to, and you should damn well remember that! He’s a deity among men! A sacred being! Just because you’re his mate doesn’t mean you should forget that.” She shouted down at him. She looked at the other villagers that had stayed to watch the whole interaction amused at the scene of mother and son. “All of you! Prepare breakfast for his divine excellency and his new soulmate! They’re hungry!” She ordered. Soon the villagers went bustling to get breakfast ready faster for the three of you. She turned to her soulmate.

Masaru nodded his head knowing what she was asking. “I’ll go see to it, don’t worry darling.” He assured her. Mitsuki smiled at the brunette male. She placed a kiss on his cheek in appreciation, the soulmate mark on her forearm glowing. Bakugou stuck his tongue out at the affection between his parents, making you giggle.

“Take Katsuki with you too, dear.”

“HUH!” Bakugou shouted as his head snapped back to look at his mother. “Why me?” He asked.

“To make up to your soulmates your negligence of their needs, that’s why!” Mitsuki yelled back at him. “Go be a good man and go cook something.” She waved him off towards his father’s direction. Bakugou bit the inside of his cheek at the order from his mother. He nodded his head begrudgingly and followed his father. Your eyebrows raised in surprise to what had just occurred. You had many questions, but before you could ask them, Mitsuki then remembered of you and Kirishima’s presence. She turned to Kirishima and bowed her head. “Forgive me, Eijiro. If we had known of your arrival, we would have made breakfast sooner.” She apologised. Kirishima opened his mouth to object to her apology. “No matter!” She said with a new sense of purpose, her eyes shining and a bright smile on her face. ��Breakfast will be ready soon. Come now, how about I show your new soulmate around the village.”

Kirishima took his place next to you. He offered his arm for you to take, wanting to walk alongside you. You smiled at the offer and took his arm, holding onto his bicep as you sided closer to him. Kirishima looked back up at Mitsuki. “That would be amazing, thank you Mitsuki.” He thanked her with a nod of his head.

She smiled. “Now, onto our tour.” She started.

You and Kirishima followed the older blond woman into town. You looked up at the tall wooden posts that marked the entrance to the village. Cor Ignis. As you and Kirishima walked side by side just a bit behind Mitsuki Bakugou, you turned your head left and right to look around the village. The small wooden cottages were spaced close to one another with still enough space for children to run between them. The community was already up and bustling with activity. You watched as some people moved wooden logs along to the centre of the village in front of you, while others carried bundles of wheat or baskets of vegetables and fruits.

Mitsuki smiled humbly as she walked slow, her hands joined in front of her. “Cor Ignis is the central village for barbarians on Dragon Island.” She started speaking. You turned your attention to her as she spoke. “As you can see, our way of life is similar to those of the dragons. Communal living. Everything done for the goodness and prosperity of our tribe. With such a way of life where everyone can have the same things, it promotes our goal in striving for a purposeful society.”

As the three of you walked, you noticed that people bowed in the presence of Kirishima. No matter what they were doing, each one of them upon seeing him, with his gleaming scales that shone red in the sun and his tall stance above all men, dropped to their knees in a bow. Kirishima’s head stayed high, used to the treatment from the barbarian race but he waved and offered smiles just like he always did before.

As you got closer to the centre of the village you noticed how much more busy it was. People moving around doing their jobs as to get the day ready. In the centre of the village was a wide-open pavilion with tables and benches. In the middle of the pavilion were a bunch of men preparing breakfast. Bakugou was one of them, standing chopping vegetables as his father took charge of the whole process. His chopping was fast and efficient as he listened to his father and the other men around him. The grand red pavilion was the centre point of the village, from it one could go to any direction.

Mitsuki led you to the left, passing by the open building, not before motioning towards it. “Here we have all our meals together and have big events like Mating and Binding ceremonies, Inductions Ceremonies and so forth.” She revealed to you.

You motioned over to the pavilion as well. “Mrs Bakugou-”

“Mitsuki, is fine dear.” She corrected you.

“Aunt Mitsuki…” You started again. Kirishima looked down at you intrigued that you wouldn’t say her name alone without a title or honorific. “Why are the men cooking?” You asked confused as she led you towards where all the farmlands were.

A large river of water passed through, next to where all the crops were being planted. Mitsuki stepped onto the bridge that was built to cross over the river. She looked back at you with a scrunched up faist and a raised eyebrow. “Who else would cook?” She asked you. You opened your mouth to speak but you couldn’t formulate an answer you would want to give. Mitsuki looked down at you confused for a moment. Then it hit her. She nodded her head. “Ah, I see.” She safely put her hands on her hips. “Well dear, barbarians work much different to human society. For one, we have a matriarchal system.” She informed you. “Typically, all the men, or male leaning individuals, are… well…” She hesitated as she glanced at Kirishima. She grimaced trying her best not to try and upset the dragon.

Kirishima looked between the two of you confused as to why she had stopped. You looked at him and then you realized he was the only male within your little party of three. You giggled at his confused expression.

Mitsuki cleared her throat. “Well… um… excuse me, your divine excellency, I promise what I am about to say does not include you.” She specified with a nod of her head. “But in barbarian culture it is typical for the male leaning individuals to be the more subservient towards the rest of us. They are our homebuilders; they care for all our young and do what is needed to protect the village.” Your eyebrows raised in disbelief to what she had just revealed to you. Mitsuki bowed at the waist. “So I am deeply embarrassed that my son has not been the epitome of devotion and subservience towards you and Eijiro.” She straightened her posture. She let out a heavy sigh as she placed her fingers on the bridge of her nose. “He gets his attitude and temper from me.”

“But I thought that in barbarian culture, devotion and dedication was an all-around value especially for one’s soulmates.” You voiced out confused.

It was Kirishima’s turn to answer this question as the three of you stopped in the middle of the bridge over the running water of the river. “It is.” He started his answer to you. “However, with their way of life, everyone has their part to play for the community.”

“Exactly, Eijiro!” Mitsuki pitched in. “We might be matriarchal, but we aren’t sexist. For example, Katsuki is a warrior and holds our family title of chieftains of our village despite being a man.” She nodded her head, proud of her son’s achievements. “He has worked hard as a leader of our warriors and displayed the utmost loyalty and commitment to our village. Now,” Mitsuki clapped her hands and turned back around to face forward. “Onto the orchards.”

You watched with a bright face at all the dancing and singing in front of you. In a circle in one of the circles in town, there was a mini celebration. The ‘full’ celebration (as the Bakugous had said) was to happen after your apparent induction. Now, the village was celebrating the second found soulmate for Kirishima. The three of you sat in cushioned chairs put next to one another, an expanse of food laid out in front of you, at least this time the food was cooked (well, most of it was). The chanting to folk songs they all knew was carried high into the air like the smoke of the bonfire that lit the centre of it all.

Bakugou had been pulled into the tide of the dancing more than once and you were pleasantly surprised to find out he was great at dancing. His reply to that was, “What barbarian doesn’t know how to dance?” Of course, accompanied by a smug smile and slightly flushed cheeks, although you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or he was blushing. You never thought you could find yourself being so happy from his happiness. In moments when Bakugou would forget about the reputation he forced himself to uphold, he was bright smiles and loud laughter, singing and joining in with all the others showing off his culture and the way they celebrated.

Kirishima too seemed like he was more than happy. When he was not watching you and Bakugou being swept up with giggles and dancing, he was eating all the food he could ever want. The barbarians spoiled him rotten, and he was not going to stop them anytime soon. People gifted him new jewels and gold. For the first time since you had met him, you saw the legendary dragon’s greed that was spoken in fairy tales. His pupils would go big and glossy at anything shiny as he picked at whatever was given to him. You wondered how much riches were in the mountain where all the dragons lived. Artefacts, gems, gold and silver hoarded away for the rest of time.

You tried to stifle a yawn as you leaned against the arm rest of your chair. Your eyes were starting to become heavy with sleepy and your limbs felt weighed down. Kirishima turned to you, noticing your decrease in activity. He smiled softly. You weren’t used to how active their lives were nor how much they were used to staying up late into the night.

Kirishima stood up from his chair and bent down in front of you. He took your hands in his. “Hey sweetheart, are you tired?” He asked you, voice loud enough that you could hear him above all the singing, music, and chatter.

You nodded your head as you covered your mouth with a yawn. “Yah. Sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s alright. It’s late, you’ve had a long day.” He scooped you up easily in his warm arms. His warm embrace didn’t help your sleepy mind from staying awake. Kirishima stood up straight and turned to Bakugou who was talking to Sero.

Bakugou turned back to look up at Kirishima. He was about to ask when he looked down and saw your tired form in Kirishima’s arms. He chuckled and waved a hand, telling the dragon that he would be there soon. Kirishima nodded his head and walked away from the celebrations with you in his arms. Away from the bonfire, the air took a cooler turn. Kirishima knew where he was going, his glowing red eyes in the night able to see perfectly in the darkness. Passing other dimly lit cottages, he finally made it to the one Bakugou and him stayed in whenever they were in the village.

He walked up the two wooden steps, with one hand he opened the door and pushed through. The place was dark but had been stocked with firewood and kept clean for them. He carefully moved to head into the bedroom. He placed you on the bed with care before heading to take care of things.

You watched with tired eyes Kirishima walked over to the fireplace opposite the bed. He drew a big gulp of air and then you noticed his chest glow with a deep orange and yellow. With an exhale, he breathed fire out, instantly lighting the fireplace and setting the room up in light.

You watched in awe. You almost forgot that he was a dragon, a fire burned in his soul that could never be diminished. It reminded you of what Bakugou had told you the first nigh you came to Dragon Island. The flames that were first blown into the world and the flames that could bring about it’s end. Kirishima took some more blankets from a chest and moved to the bed. You rubbed your eyes, your body not cooperating with you. For some odd reason you couldn’t relax.

Kirishima crawled into bed, settling his back against the headboard. He spread his legs and drew you to his chest. He draped a blanket on top of you, keeping you warm. With a comforting rumble from his chest, he was satisfied of your comfort.

You looked up at him amused. “You know Eijiro, I would have been just fine on the actual bed.” You chuckled.

He shook his head. “No, mate has to be safe and warm.” He let out factually. He rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. “I assure you, us dragons have ways that have been done for many generations. You are better like this.” He told you.

You relaxed against his hold, placing your hands on his forearms. You admired his scales on his arms. The dark scales that reflected the light of the fire and hinted to that deep red colour you grew to love. Each one beautifully placed with purpose. Kirishima watched as you traced over his scales, all the ones you could see. “Tell me about your ways.” You asked him. “Tell me about dragons.”

He chuckled. “There is much to tell you and…” He leaned closer to your ear. “I don’t think I can fit it all in one night. Not with your sleepy head.” He teased nudged your jaw with his nose.

You both laughed. “Fine then…” You thought about it some more. “Tell me about dragon soulmates.” You asked with a hopeful gleam.

“A romantic I see.” He nodded his head, you rolled your eyes with a hum making him laugh. He squeezed you closer in his arms. He let out a breath thinking of where to start. “Well… If I’m going to tell you the story of dragon soulmates, you will have to know our history first.” He told you. “Long ago when the world was still new and shrouded in darkness, there were five main gods. The oceans, the stars, the land, the storm and the peace. Our god was that of the stars.” Unexpectedly Kirishima breathed a flicker of a flame onto his hand and extended his hand in front of you. A small flame danced on his hand, not burning out or hindering him or anything else in any way. Your eyes widened in fascination. The flame changed colour to a bright white and took up the shape of a dragon. “The Starry Flame. A being that spread it’s wings so wide it could cover the expanse of the world, and flew over it bringing heat and light to an otherwise dark and cold world.” You watched as the white dragon above Kirishima’s hand flew up into the air.

“As the world grew, the gods placed pieces of themselves onto this world and thus, the Starry Flame bestowed star magic into a being of it’s own likeness. The dragons.” The big white dragon of flames broke up into tiny pieces all landing on Kirishima’s hand. Then you watched as all those small pieces swirled and turned into dragonkin. Masculine and feminine shapes with horns, tails and wings. “But as of this world’s design, no being -no soul- was made on its own.” The white flames once again merged together to form a beating heart. “The flames that reside in a dragon’s heart are split up between its soulmates. One can not be whole or reach their full potential without having all the pieces.” He explained.

“So you are at your strongest with Katsuki and I?” You asked.

He sent you a bright smile. He nodded his head. “Yes, you pick up fast.” You gave a firm nod, proud of yourself as you lifted your head up slightly. Kirishima let out a chuckle. “My family is close to the Starry Flame and thus can spit out flames as hot as blue.” The flame in his hand flickered blue, you could feel the change in temperature immediately. “Flames hot enough to melt obsidian and is a substance similar to that at the core of this world. However, us dragons don’t like to focus on personal gain in having a soulmate.” The flames changed into their normal red and orange colour. Then you watched the flame split into three figures. One was big with horns on it’s head and long hair, the other had a cape with spiky hair and a tiny waist and the other was in the shape of you. “Us dragons, we are very romantic creatures.”

You giggled and nudged your nose to his jaw above you. Kirishima froze. You had done something that typically only dragons and barbarians did. A close intimate meaning of great trust, admiration and intimacy between people. Kirishima’s shoulder softened as he felt his heart full.

He forced himself to return to telling his story. “And thus our soulmates are our everything. Together we hold each other up and embrace each other in ways no one else can. No one else can fulfil our desires or make us feel even a glimmer or sense of love or completeness like our soulmates can. Prosperity is our way of life.” The three figures of the flame embraced each other, and you could almost hear echoes of laughter and giggles in the crackles of the flame. “Love, growth, birth… all of it made possible…” The flame once again split up into three but this time moved away from Kirishima’s hand. One white flame hovered over Kirishima’s soulmate mark on his arm, the other flew over to yours while the last one flew in a race out the door. “With soulmates.” Kirishima finished telling his story. “There is still much more to it but that can wait for another time.”

You looked up at him. “That was beautiful.” You told him softly.

“Awww.” The two of you turned to look at the door. Bakugou stood with a pout on his face as a white flame hovered over his shoulder. “You two had story time without me?” He asked almost offended. “I feel betrayed.” He placed a hand over his heart.

Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Such an attention seeker.” He joked making you laugh.

Bakugou’s face fell. “What!” He folded his arms and turned his head away. “I am not! I am the epitome of humble spirit.” He glanced over at Kirishima who looked extremely unimpressed.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. He shook his head. “I’ve heard you tell better lies, Katsuki. Now come on, we can’t sleep without you here.”

Bakugou grumbled as he walked over to the bed. He took off his cape laying it on a chair before climbing into bed. The three of you rearranged yourselves to find you back in the middle with Bakugou on your left and Kirishima on your right like always. You finally found yourself relaxing more and your eyes drooping having the both of them next to you. “Tomorrow, I’m sleeping in the middle.” Bakugou announced with a huff.

Kirishima laughed. “You miss being the centre of attention already?” He asked the blond.

Bakugou’s face turned pink. “No… I just- I like the middle. It’s comfortable.” He grumbled, one hand tracing your arm underneath the furs and blankets

“Katsuki.” You let out with a yawn. Bakugou looked down at you, crimson eyes having the reflection of the flames dance in them. “Do you like being a barbarian?” You ask him, tiredly.

Bakugou scoffed. “Of course, I do.” He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You rubbed your eyes. “Even though you’re a male?” You asked him.

Kirishima looked down at you and then over to Bakugou. He wanted to know of his answer as well. Bakugou hesitated to respond. He understood what you were trying to ask him. Having seen other cultures, especially those outside of barbarian culture, he knew that it wasn’t typical for men to act in such a way.

He released a breath and a small smile. “What? You worried about me, pipsqueak?” His fingers pinched your nose briefly. “I grew up in a society where our women were the strongest of us all but with male figures that stood just as proudly. I grew to be strong and a talented warrior, but I also learnt servitude and grace. I have learnt to take pride in offering myself up for others, to make their lives easier.” He gently caressed your cheek with his hand. “So I do like being a barbarian, because there is no greater pride a barbarian can have than having a home they have built. And I do have one. I have you.” He tapped your nose making you smile. He turned up to Kirishima. “I have Eijiro.” Kirishima smiled. The two met in the middle over you, a peck accompanied with foreheads placed against each other. Kirishima released a rumble in happiness. Bakugou smiled and looked back down at you. “So why wouldn’t I be happy?”

You hummed glad about his answer. “Alright then.” You closed your eyes, but then something else pulled you out of sleep. “I have another question.” You opened your eyes again.

Bakugou rolled his eyes and Kirishima chuckled, his fingers tracing your shoulder as he looked down at you, his head propped up by one arm. His long red hair fell behind him free and effortless. “So many questions yet such a tired little mate.” He teased. His nails making a shiver run down your spine.

“Just one more question.”

Bakugou hummed not believing you. “What is it now?”

“Why don’t I get kisses?” Both Kirishima and Bakugou looked at one another in surprise that you would have asked. “I mean the both of you kiss each other. Not saying I don’t like it when you two kiss!” You quickly added. “It’s… I like it…” You added quietly, looking to the side. “When the two of you are together. It’s...” You couldn’t find the words for it. “Striking, to say the least.”

Kirishima and Bakugou looked down at you and then back to each other. Smirks adorned their faces. Bakugou cleared his throat, finding the build-up in tension stirring him. “Well… Eijiro and I thought it best to get you comfortable first before initiating anything.” His fingers found their way to your chin, lifting your head up, exposing your neck. “We wanted you to trust us first before getting intimate, all three of us. Which is why,” He looked to Kirishima with an annoyed expression. “I haven’t had Eijiro’s cock in my ass for the past six days!”

Kirishima shook his head in disdain. “Katsuki, we talked about this. I miss your ass too, but we agreed, after Y/N’s initiation, my cock is at the disposal of the two of you.”

“But I don’t want your dick at my disposal then!” Bakugou argued back. “I want you fucking me stupid into the next day now!”

Your face grew hotter at their words as they bickered between each other. You hadn’t started to think about just how intimate they must have been while they waited and search for you. However, half the things they were saying, you didn’t know what they were or at least the actions they were describing. You started to feel very anxious at the fact that they knew each other so well and yet you had never even had anything more than a kiss. Which in human culture, was already scandalous before marriage or without your soulmate.

“I… I’ve never mated before.” Your voice wavered out, instantly getting their attention. You avoided their heated red gazes as you focused on something else. “So… what’s it like?”

You finally returned your gaze back up to them. Your wide innocent eyes intoxicating. Bakugou stopped thinking a while ago. He’s eyes locked onto you. There was something about the heavy fact that they would have your first, that made his head go blank. Kirishima’s pupils expanded as blood rushed away from his head down to his now irritably restricted dick. He always thought of you and Bakugou like shiny jewels all for him to keep safe.

He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind me asking…” He looked back down at you for confirmation that he could continue. You nodded your head affirmatively. “What have you done, regarding intimacy?”

You shrugged. “Just kisses.”

Bakugou blinked down at you unbelieving. “So you’ve…” He started. “You’ve never pleasured yourself?” You shook your head. Bakugou looked to Kirishima with wide eyes. Both men looked at each other for a second. Bakugou cleared his throat as he tried to think of an answer to your previous question. “Well… mating is like…” He scratched the back of his head as his cheeks turned pink flushed. He wasn’t even sure where to begin.

“It’s the closest thing people can do to becoming whole again.” You both turned to Kirishima in surprise. He looked down his gaze not meeting either of yours. “It’s… its more than just for pleasure or at least in dragon culture. It’s about aligning your souls and hearts together, your bodies together and your minds blank.” He gave a soft smile. “It’s warm, sucks the breath out of your lungs and makes you feel as though you’re falling in the air but you won’t hit the ground. It makes you feel as though the world could end and you wouldn’t notice. All you can focus on is the other part of you.” He looked up, his eyes dark with something you didn’t know but at the same time an intensity that sucked your breath away with a beauty that only he could achieve. He looked down at you, brushed your forehead with his hand. “That’s what mating is like.”

-Glitch1d

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pisupsala · 2 years

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One for The History Books [Chapter 2] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

One for The History Books - Chapter 2: Threading Water The preparations for the mission had started in earnest. The top graduates had been recalled for trials and training, and seasoned aviator Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell was leading the effort as the instructor. With the tight deadline for the mission, there were practice flights nearly every day. For you, this meant an influx of data, flights, and debriefs to work through for the daily report. The DoD was keeping a keen eye on the progress of the mission—the risks associated with the plan would push the pilots and fighter jets to the absolute limit. That limit is what the brass was mostly interested in. If the chosen squadron could pull this off, it would set a new precedent in Super Hornet capabilities—and in its pilots'. Only the best of the best were even considered for this.

Rifling through the pilots' profiles, he had not escaped your notice. And how could he have? The moment you opened the manila folder, his picture stared at you. How a simple headshot could make you blush, was beyond you. But now you had a name to the face. Lieutenant Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw.

In those first days of the mission training, you came to two conclusions: One—you are insanely attracted to Lieutenant Bradshaw. Two—everyone that is part of this mission is fucking insane.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the years, you have read hundreds, if not thousands, of training logs and mission reports. Never have you seen a level of ego and insubordination like during this mission prep. Every other day had some sort of incident—breaking rules of engagement, dangerous maneuvers, not following direct orders.

You've put together reports on service members being hit with non-judicial punishments for a lot less than this, yet at TOPGUN no formal punishment had been meted out. They really like doing things their way here. Which is why they understandably don't like the DoD—you in this case—poking around.

It's about five days into the training when Vice Admiral Simpson comes by your office one morning, holding a thin folder in his hand. You are sorting and filing logs from the previous day, readying them for the archive. You quickly stand up as he comes in. “Miss Williams, did this pass your desk yesterday?” He asks, skipping over any pleasantries, as he casually lobs the file on your overfilled desk. You cringe slightly as the neat piles of paper on your desk shift. You pick the file up, and quickly scan the first page. An incident report of a scuffle between Lt. Bradshaw and Lt. Seresin during morning instruction. You remember being somewhat surprised a report was even filed on this, as no brass witnessed the incident and no one was hurt. “It did, sir.” You look back up at him, smiling politely. He regards you with a guarded expression. Something is up, you decide. There is no reason for him to come to ask about something so minor, especially in the context of everything else happening during the mission prep. “It was not included in the daily report yesterday.” He states simply, staring you down. You blink. Where is he going with this? “The indecent report stated it was a personal issue between Lt. Bradshaw and Lt. Seresin,” You start cautiously. You feel the heat creep up your neck, as it happens every time you are nervous. When Simpson doesn't stop you, you continue: “Therefore, it carries no relevancy for the purpose of the daily report, which is solely concerned with the progress of the mission.”

You stretch out your arm, offering the file back to him. He makes no move to take it from you. “Who made the call to leave it out? You or Corporal Riks?” You narrow your eyes. Did he want the incident to be reported to the DoD? This line of questioning doesn't sit well with you. The heat has reached your cheeks by now. You breathe out and steel your spine. Stay clam, you tell yourself—you didn't do anything wrong. “I did, sir.” You swallow. “I deemed it irrelevant information for the Pentagon in the context of yesterday's report, as it would distract from facts pertinent to the success of the mission.”

You quickly shut your mouth. Now is not the time to ramble. Especially as you don't want to mention that Riks had wanted to include it, but left you to finalize the report, which is why it never made it in. Vice Admiral Simpson finally takes the file from your hand. His demeanor softens ever so slightly. “You are more perceptive than you let on, Miss Williams.” You look at him questioningly. “This incident report could have had unfortunate consequences for everyone involved in this high-stakes environment, you understand that.” You nod slightly, and your nerves calm. You hope your face is not the red, splotchy mess it has the habit of turning into under pressure. Vice Admiral Simpson cracks a smile. “I recognize good thinking when I see it. And I like what I'm seeing here.” Again, without any care for pleasantries, he walks out with the file under his arm. You sag back into your chair. This whole assignment was taking a turn for the fucking weird.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next day already, late in the afternoon, Vice Admiral Simpson called on you. You are hoofing it after him in the late afternoon sun past the parked fighter jets. Your arms are full of data folders he wants you to look at—which is really not helping you keep up with his long strides back to your office. Why do the armed forces insist on having so much on paper anyway?

“Of course, you understand the gravity of the situation.” He talks without looking back at you. “The data from the training runs needs to look favorable.” You squint against the low sun shining on your face. It's becoming clear to you what Vice Admiral Simpson's end game is—funding for TOPGUN. Even if the mission were to fail, the training and prep must appear picture-perfect. So far, the pilots' flight times are not looking too good. No one had made a fully successful run so far. You look away from the sun. Across the runway, a pilot is doing push-ups next to his jet, and the warrant officer is counting: 82…83… Your breath stops for a moment. It's Lt. Bradshaw. And he looks hot. Temperature hot, that is. Sweat is dripping down his brow as he's going through the motions in full flight gear, only his helmet discarded to the side. You haven't seen him since the night in the bar. You wonder idly if he's going to be there again the coming weekend. Do the pilots get any liberty at all while training? Focus! You look back at Simpson, who hasn't noticed your distraction. Bradshaw hasn't taken notice of you, either. You clench your jaw—you need to keep your head straight. This assignment is mired in politics, so you need to tread carefully in the reports. Cute airmen don't make for good work. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes you a good 30 minutes to sort the folders on your desk in a way that makes sense. Your brain feels depleted. The heat, the weird mounting political pressure—normally you'd grab a file and read during the evening to get a head start. Tonight, you just want your brain to stop thinking for a while. You get a bottle of water from the vending machine on your way back outside. Putting a hand in your pocket, you start walking back to the barracks. As you pass the parked jets, you hear a pained grunt. Your head whips around to see Lt. Bradshaw flop over on his back from the push-up position. Was he still out here doing push-ups? His chest heaves with heavy and raspy breaths, like his throat and mouth are bone dry. You stand still for a moment, heart pounding. Should you? You look at the bottle in your hand. It's not weird, right? You take a tentative step forwards. He looks like he could really use it. Your fist clenches in your pocket. You decisively start walking across the tarmac to where Lt. Bradshaw is splayed out. His eyes are closed, and he gives no indication he hears you approach. You could still turn back?

Jesus Christ, just offer the man the bottle of water, you fucking nerd, you chastise yourself.

You stop a few feet away from his prone body. You swallow, your own mouth now strangely dry. “Hey, do you need some water?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Lt. Bradshaw shoots up, and looks at you, eyes wide. You awkwardly hold out the cold water bottle to him. Neither of you moves for a second. His eyes are fixed on your face. “Ah- I didn't… it's still sealed.” The heat is creeping up the back of your neck again. “I just got it from the machine back there… at the offices. It's just regular wa-”. You are rambling. Take a breath.

“I just thought you looked like you needed it more than I did.” You finish lamely.

He pulls himself up to his full height and wipes the sweat on his brow with the sleeves of his flight suit. When he looks back up at you, he has a small smile on his face, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Some water sounds amazing, thank you.” His voice is raspy, but every bit a smooth as it was at the Hard Deck. He takes the bottle from you, opens it and throws his head back drinking from it. You can only watch his throat move as he swallows, the tan skin shimmering with sweat. Why does that look so hot? “Fuck, I needed that.” He quickly looks at you to gauge your reaction to him swearing. You just feel the heat from your neck creeping further up. “Sorry, force of habit around base.” He says easily, mistaking your creeping blush for indignation.

“Oh, no, don't worry. I'm used to a lot worse around.” You bite your lip. Don't start rambling now. He's probably beat and just being polite. “And where is around?” His heavy breath seems to have come down as he casually takes another sip of water. He regards you with observant eyes—you are a civilian on a naval base, after all. Your fingers fidget in your pocket.

“The Pentagon, mostly.” You admit hesitantly. You look back at him—he just grins playfully. “You're not with Internal Affairs or something, are you?” You frown for a second. Low blow. “Pff, no. Hate to disappoint, but I work in the archives.” You keep your voice steady. You like your job and are proud of it. “Far from disappointing, if you ask me.”. He takes another sip from the bottle, finishing it. The heat has reached your cheeks well and truly now. You just hope the sun sets soon, so it's less obvious. He runs a hand through his caramel colored hair, messing it up in the most delectable way. He looks at you for a moment. “I don't think we got introduced...” He starts and he outstretches his hand towards you. “Ah, yeah. No, of course.” You bumble. Shit, you're not supposed to know his name. Operational security dictates you can't let on you're reporting on the highly classified mission he's part of, which is why you already know his name. And a good part of his service record to boot. You take his hand in yours. His palm is hot and rough against yours. You feel as if flames might burst out of your hand where his fingers are pressing against your skin. You can hear your heart thump loudly. “Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. Call sign Rooster.” His soft brown eye bore into yours as he gently squeezes your hand. “Darcy Williams. Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant.” You smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Williams.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just two days later, on a crisp and early Friday morning, you see him again. You're sitting in the nearly empty chow hall for a way too early breakfast, scanning through a report that needs editing. Work is piling up, so you're looking to get an early start. A girl's gotta multitask sometimes, but so far not one bite of the cereal you got made into your mouth. Engrossed in your reading, you spoon up some rapidly going soggy cornflakes, let it hover over the bowl for a good half minute, before putting it back, grabbing your pen to cross something out on the paper before you. The report is increasingly more handwriting than typed text.

As you put your pen down, your hand goes for your coffee, which is the only thing you've consumed so far. You are so engrossed in your work, you don't notice someone walking up to your table.

“Is this seat taken?” You blink up from the file in your hand, looking straight at Lt. Bradshaw's innocently smiling face. Your mouth goes dry. He's dressed in the standard issue Navy PT kit, looking unfairly good in the dark blue shirt and shorts. The shirt clings to him in just such a way you can see the muscle definition of his chest. “Ah—yeah. I mean, no, go ahead.” Great going, numb nuts. You smile at him—you are happy to see him, even happier he's talking to you, but your brain seems to have forgotten how to English. He sits down across from you with his own breakfast tray. You look at your cereal from the corner of your eye—it seems to have died a soggy death about 10 minutes ago already. You reach for your coffee instead.

“So, what are you reading that's so interesting, it's stopping you from eating breakfast?” Bradshaw asks as he digs into his own breakfast of eggs and bacon.

Gah, he noticed? “Nothing interesting, just bad, unfortunately.” You shake your head. “My breakfast is just collateral damage to the absolute massacre of good thinking that is this report.”

Lt. Bradshaw grins at you. You smile back. You're glad your heart is not completely beating out of your chest as he regards you. “And it's up to you to give it last rites?” He intones lightly. “Ah, it's nothing a little TLC can't fix.” You shrug. “Soon this report will join the rest of them in the dark and dusty archives of the Pentagon, and possibly never the light of day again. Not exactly a happy ending.” “Can't be that bad if it's you looking after them there.” You still as your cheeks suddenly start feeling warm. Lt. Bradshaw has a too innocent smile on his face. He is enjoying this. “So what about you?” You quickly change the subject. “Off to morning PT?” “Physical, and then maneuvers in the afternoon” He answers vaguely between bites. You know he's being evasive because he's on a highly classified training, so you don't push him on it. “And push-ups in the evening?” You quip before you can stop yourself. His eyes shoot up at yours. You bite your lip. He leans forward. “Well, why don't you stop by the lot later and find out?” His eyes are boring into yours. Your spine is tingling from the intensity of his stare. Leaning your chin on your free hand, you dare yourself to lean the slightest bit forward too.

“I guess it could be on my way.” Pretend to think. “I might j-” “WILLIAMS!” Curse Riks, and his entire family tree. His yell from the far end of the chow hall startles you, and your elbow collides with your bowl of cereal, causing the spoon to topple out with a loud clang. Now everyone is staring at you. Just the way you like it, you think sourly. You look around to see him making a beeline toward you. The look on his face suggests he's in a foul mood—the kind he gets into when he's been chewed out by a superior. And now he's about to make it your problem. He slams a large folder in front of you, narrowly missing your mug of coffee. He plants his hand on the table with a resounding slap and bends over to you. Is he trying to intimidate you? You keep your face neutral while you stare back at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you scared or frazzled by his actions. “Yesterday's report was rejected by Vice Admiral Simpson.” He grinds out, eyes blazing. “And your phone was off.” You keep looking at him with a steely expression. Your phone wasn't off, you were. You worked late, ate a whole shitty pizza from the shady-looking place on base and pretty much passed out. “I was busy.” You intone mildly, not shifting an inch or elaborating. A clang of cutlery on a plate breaks the tension momentarily. Lt. Bradshaw put down his fork obnoxiously, and any shred of a smile has been wiped off his face. He looks unimpressed, to say the least. “I - g -good morning, Lieutenant.” Riks suddenly stutters, as he salutes. Lt. Bradshaw just nods back in reply. Oh. So he rates a good morning, and you get yelled at? You involuntarily scrunch up your nose in indignation.

As Riks stumbles his way through an apology to Bradshaw, you pick up the report he threw in front of you. Quickly scanning the first page, you feel your eyebrows just about rise into your hairline. “You rejected every edit I made.” You exclaim, whipping your head back at Riks. Jesus Christ, no wonder it was rejected—he sent in what is essentially a first draft. Suddenly finding his balls back, Riks fires back at you: “They were bad. You practically fucking tanked the report with your shitty re-writes.” You know your cheeks are blazing red now, the anger and embarrassment practically radiating from them. You take a deep breath through your nose. But before you can open your mouth to argue back, another voice rings through the chow hall: “Admiral on deck!” Chairs scrape as everyone hurries to stand, and Vice Admiral Simpson is already barreling towards your table. Does everyone have it out for you today? You quickly use your free hand to smooth out your skirt, still holding the rejected report in your other. “As you were.” Simpson says simply as he approaches. From the corner of your eye, you see Lt. Bradshaw sit back down, his eyes on you. You stay on your feet, considering it best to face the Vice Admiral head-on. “Miss Williams” He starts as a greeting. “I see Corporal Riks already handed over the report to you, good.” You nod mutely. Oh, did Riks get his ass handed to him by Simpson? That would be something to behold, you think venomously. “I trust in your skills to get this report up to my expectations.” He continues sternly. “I'm going to need it polished and ready to go on my desk within the hour.” Your jaw clenches. Just, like, fuck you, right? “That's not going to be a problem, is it, Miss Williams?” You school your face in to a professional and polite smile. “Of course not, sir. I'll get started right away.” Simpson takes his leave as abruptly as he arrived, not sparing you a second glance. You let out a sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. So much for a quiet breakfast. “Right, so, I'll just take these then?” Riks reaches out for the papers you have been working on. “Don't touch my files.” You interject forcefully, tone icy. Riks raises his eyebrows as you start demonstratively stacking the files, your phone, and your pen into your arms. Lt. Bradshaw is still following your every move from the other side of the table. You are too annoyed to feel self-conscious under his stare. Arms now full, you look at the tray with your discarded breakfast. You need to take it back, but you also don't want to put all your stuff back down after you packed it all on so stubbornly. Riks, asshole extraordinaire, makes no move to help you and just stands there with his arms crossed. “Don't worry, miss Williams, I'll get your tray for you.” Lt. Bradshaw, officer and gentleman, smoothly saves you from your self-imposed predicament. You flash him a broad smile. “Thank you, Lt. Bradshaw. I owe you one.” He winks. He winks? Your breath hitches. Your tongue quickly skims over your dry lips. What is this man doing to you? “Let's get going, then?” Riks sounds annoyed as he's already walking towards the exit.

You spy your mug of coffee—there's still quite a bit in there, although it has cooled significantly. Fuck it, you decide, you're going to need all the energy you can get. In one fell swoop, you grab the mug and drain it in two big gulps. As you put it back and wipe the corners of your mouth with your hand, your eyes meet Lt. Bradshaw's. His eyes look dark as he is leaned back in his chair, fingers pressed against the edge of the table. The look in his eyes makes your stomach clench. Squeaking out a goodbye, you almost run out of the chow hall. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] Yeah, this fic is going to be exponentially longer than I planned. I had to leave out a complete section, as this chapter is already long enough. However, I promise the pre-amble for the story is done now, and we can dive in to scenes with Rooster and filth. Which what we are here for, after all. [edited and updated March 2023]

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x oc

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