#Reading over your space au page it sounds like it fits perfectly with the world I'd imagined so that's exciting

[cosmiccanidae]

@badmusejail continued from here

"Smart man," he said with a grin.

Raisu certainly knew better than to underestimate people based on appearance either. He'd seen it happen enough times. Easy for a more hot-headed person to not think much of the older man leaning on a cane.

This guy seemed interesting though. There was something in the way he was easily twirling that wrench without fumbling it betrayed practiced skill and developed coordination. There was also something familiar about him.

The canid snickered at that comment. "Only sometimes, eh? Lucky for me. I must say though, is my memory playing tricks, or have I seen your face somewhere before?"

#badmusejail #Reading over your space au page it sounds like it fits perfectly with the world I'd imagined so that's exciting #Our respective 'Federations' could even fit as the same organization #Though Raisu would hate any organization like that either way XD

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #got some fluff got some angst #casual reminder that daniela is capable of being just as cruel as cassandra #just normally a different kind

[ka-za-ri]

Personal Assistant pt. 1

Hi. I’m in complete and utter Obey Me! Hell Enjoy some Lucifer x MC smut shamelessly put into a modern day CEO!Lucifer AU. Many parts to come. I’m completely covered in filth and thirst. Unbeta’d because we die like heroes here. Let me go back to being a gremlin now.

Paring: Lucifer x MC Wordcount: 5,000 ish Genre: Shameless, filthy smut Tags: Multiple Orgasms, sex on a desk, Finger fucking, overstimulation

Part 2: here Part 3: here Part 4: here Part 5: Here Part 6: Here Part 7: Here Also found on Ao3: Here

Lucifer has been sent to the human realm to study them and acclimate to and learn about their behaviors. By some miracle, you landed a job interview with his illustrious company as his personal assistant. A lot of extra work not listed on the job posting is required of you, to say the least.

Part 1: Interview

Adapting to the human world wasn’t hard. Humans were after all, predictable little things, easily swayed by their desires, it didn't take much effort at all to make them bend to his will. Lucifer’s time thus far ‘learning’ about the human realm had netted him a sizable company under his control. It wasn’t long before he became bored of that. Being a CEO of Akuzon meant many things. One being that he was always busy and needed some help around his office. Previous attempts at having a personal assistant failed him as they never satisfied his needs and kept up with the workload.

Somehow, you found yourself looking at the ad in the paper and hastily applying to the job It seemed too good to be true. It paid well, was for a reputable company, was close to home, and you fit the criteria listed. It was a shot in the dark, you knew there must be hundreds of others clamoring for the position as well. However, much to your surprise only a couple of weeks passed when you received an email requesting your presence for an interview.

The office building was massive, fitting right in with the many sky scrapers of the city. After putting on the best interview clothes you had and making your makeup was on point, you had thought you were ready for anything. Seeing the building and stepping inside it’s grand spaces had you faltering for a moment, a shiver of nervousness running down your spine. Almost everyone in the vicinity stopped what they were doing to see who it was at their front door. The nervousness increased as their gazes bored down into you, making you think you had gotten the wrong building.

“Are you here for an interview?” A young lady at the front desk asked cheerfully, noticing how lost you seemed.

“Ah! Yes! I am! For the position of Lucifer’s secretary.” You explained, relieved that there were some helpful people there.

The lady raised an eyebrow, surprised that someone so green would be chosen for such a high ranking position, but didn’t press the issue any further. Dialing a few numbers into the phone at her desk, she made a quick call. “Yes, she’s here… I’ll bring her right up.” She looked up at you, a sweet smile on her face and got up to guide you to the elevators on the other side of the floor. “He’ll be ready to see you once you get to his floor.”

“His floor?”

“Yes. His office is one of the top floors of the building. As his secretary, you’ll be responsible for taking care of it as well as any other duties he asks of you.” She explained. “You’re so lucky… I applied for that position ages ago, but couldn’t pass the interview phase. I hope you fare better than me.”

“I hope so too…” You agreed, hoping to hide the shaking in your voice.

The trip to the top floor seemed to stretch forever. The light music in the background did little to soothe your anxiety as you watched the numbers climb higher and higher until they stopped at 60 and the doors slid smoothly open after a soft chime.

“Well, this is where I leave you. He’s right beyond those doors.” The lady gave you a small reassuring push forward and before you could have any second thoughts, the doors closed and you were left alone, facing tall frosted glass doors. Taking one last stuttering breath, you took the steps forward to push open the doors. They were much heavier than expected and after a bit of a struggle, you finally managed to open it.

Before you sat the most impeccable man you had ever seen. The very image of power in a young and handsome man. The name plate placed at the very edge confirmed to you that he was indeed to be the man who was going to be conducting the interview. It was difficult to get your mind past how handsome he was. His perfectly parted hair framed his face and its long, delicate features. He wore a black fitted suit, one that probably cost more than any number you could imagine. Each stitch in its place to accentuate the lines of his body and to cut an imposing figure, even when seated. Everything about him oozed control and power. You had every right to be nervous.

He sat behind a massive desk; the only documents in front of him were what you expected to be your files. Most everything else, save for his nameplate, had been cleared off. If he had done this to intimidate you, he was doing an exceptionally good job without even saying a damn thing. “Come in. Have a seat. I’ve been expecting you.” He beckoned and gestured at the seat in front of him, his eyes raking up and down your figure, assessing everything about you. All the while, you were powerless to deny his request. His voice was soothing, low and lulled you into a strange sense of security.

Sinking into the seat in front of the desk, you sat just at the edge, reminding yourself to keep your posture proper and to keep your appearance as professional as possible. You needed to employ every trick in the book in order to succeed in the interview; and Lucifer knew that. His expression was unreadable as he waited for you to settle in, his hands idly flipping through your resume. “So, tell me, what do you think you can bring to this company working for me?”

Ah, there it was, the interview questions. You had prepared for this and the answer you rehearsed fell easily from your lips. “I have a lot of experience in working as an office manager. I understand that my duties may extend past what was listed in the job posting. However, I am willing to take in the extra hours and to work whatever job is given to me to ensure that your position and your reputation remains as impeccable as it has always been since the start. I will bring a new level of efficiency in your workflow and I will be a great asset to your company as such.”

He hummed, seeming uninterested in what you had to say. You began to sweat a bit at the back of your neck. Perhaps he had expected something more unique? Once again, he flipped through the pages of your resume, not really reading anything, just looking at the information you had put down. “I see… And how do you deal with pressure or stressful situations?”

Again, another question you had prepared for. “The easiest way to diffuse stressful stressful situations or overwhelming workloads is to make extensive lists. I like to break things down into their basic components so that large tasks are much more manageable in a timely manner.

He hums again, a vague sound of approval this time, nodding only slightly before making a mark on the papers in front of him. “Very good. Final question. How do you like to be managed?” His eyes flick up to you and there’s something in the way he gazes in your direction that makes your heart beat faster. There was something in the way his eyes trailed up and down your body that had you sitting up straighter than before.

“As long as I have clear direction, I will be able to work independently or as a team as needed.”

Much to your surprise, Lucifer smiles at the answer, circling something on the paper before getting up and sauntering over to you. “That’s very good to hear.” he said quietly, turning to look out the floor to ceiling windows to the cityscape his office overlooked. “There will be a lot of times where I can be demanding and ask you to stay later than usual hours. Will your priority still be this job if I ask this of you?”

You swallowed, not sure how you felt about the question, his tone had an undercurrent of electric energy that had you heating up and shivering at the same time. “Y-yes.” You stated after a brief pause, entranced by the curve of his spine and how well his pants fit his ass. “I can do that. I plan on making this position more than a job. I am looking for a career here.”

Lucifer nodded again, still not making any eye contact with you, which gave you plenty more time to ogle at how his posture and his stance against the window struck such a formal and imposing figure. At this point, he could tell you to work three twenty hour shifts in a row and you wouldn’t complain. The prospect of a hot boss, great pay and a job that was close to home was too tempting to you.

“If you accept this position, you will be placed on a probation period, as is customary for this company.” He explained and your heart started to beat faster. Did this mean you landed the job? You couldn’t tell if he was psyching you up for potential disappointment or if he was genuinely starting to offer you the job. “Once I’ve gone over your performance during your probationary period, your salary will increase. Additional raises and bonuses will be offered as I see fit for… exceptional work.” You couldn’t see it, but rather, you felt him smirking at his reflection in his reflection. “Does that sound acceptable to you?”

“Yes…” You breathed, mouth watering at the aspect of being able to make so much money. It was more than any other job you worked for paid.

Humans were such easy little playthings to control.

Lucifer walked back to you, standing in front of his desk and leaning against the heavy wood. “Your job will be of course to do what I request, many times without question. There will be many sensitive documents that you will handle and that requires your utmost confidentiality.”

“I understand.” You said bluntly, trying to calm your heart and your breathing to no avail.

“You understand that this position also may also involve some after hours activities which I will ask for you to partake in. They are not written on the job description, but they are paramount to this position. Don’t worry… I’ll be sure you receive clear and concise directions on exactly what to do as my personal assistant.”

You blinked. The way he worded the phrase seemed off, but you couldn’t put your finger on what. It was odd, he had always referred to the job as ‘this position’ until just now. It was the first time the actual job title until he tugged at the cuffs of his suit, undoing the buttons. “Oh…” You breathed, eyes wide, cheeks blushing brightly when you realized what he meant, the bulge in his pants was all the proof you needed for there to be absolutely no miscommunication. From the looks of it, you could only surmise that he was barely half mast in that state. Fuck, what kind of monster is he hiding in there?

“Before we sign the papers and you accept the job, I would like to do a test run to make sure you’re a good fit for the company.”

“Yes… of course.” You were practically panting, eyes blown wide and cheeks flushed. You pressed your legs together trying to hide the arousal that started pooling there after the realization that you would be servicing your future boss in rather intimate ways. That fact alone had you ready to sign whatever contract he produced in a heartbeat.

“We’ll begin by seeing how good you are at following directions. Stand up, please.” He flicked his fingers upward, eyes traveling up and down your body, knowing exactly the kind of reaction he was pulling out of you.

You were upon your feet in an instant, hands at your side, back straight as a board and your legs together. You barely dared to breathe as he left his spot on his desk to circle you. You could feel his gaze taking in every detail. He was close enough for you to smell the cologne he wore waft past you as he passed your side and you suppressed a shiver.

“What kind of posture is this?” He chided, pressing the spot between your shoulder blades gently, pushing your shoulders back. “Just because you’re standing up straight does not mean you’re doing it properly.” Lucifer tsked, shaking his head slightly. “How do you expect to represent me and this company if you look like a cardboard cut out.” His hands left a trail of goosebumps across your skin as he adjusted your body as he saw fit. Your hands folded neatly in front of you, your legs now just shoulder width apart and your shoulders back, he took another circle around you to reassess your stance. “Much better.” He murmured. “It will do you well to remember how this feels. I won’t be so lenient if I see you looking so foolishly in front of a client.”

You nodded, memorizing just how he had posed your body, reminding yourself to practice in the mirror. You didn’t dare speak unless he gave you permission to, just something about how he stalked around you made it impossible to raise any objections.

“Stay still unless I say otherwise.” Lucifer commanded next. “It’s important that you are at attention no matter what the circumstances. When I ask for your… special services, you will refer to me as Sir.” His finger traced the hem of your pencil skirt, pulling it up just a bit and you fought back the urge to flinch. “But of course, I should say that right now, you have the power to stop this at any time. Understood?”

“Yes…”

“Yes who?” Lucifer’s tone was sharp and the hand playing at the hem of your skirt moved to place a firm spank on your ass. The pain coursing down your leg, you jumped a bit, but remembered his command to stay still.

“Yes… Sir…”

“Good.” He nearly purred, leaning in to kiss the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin and his hand once again traveled to the hem of your skirt, playing with the fabric and pulling it up until he got a good view of the lacy lucky panties you decided to wear that day. “Very good.” he praises, tracing his fingers across the flimsy fabric. Your breath hitches as he brushes light touches across your bare skin. You stay still, demanding that your body stop trembling, though Lucifer can clearly tell just how nervous you are, shaking like a little lamb at his behest. In a show of dominance, he lets your skirt fall back down, cupping your face to pull you into a heated kiss.

Your mind is practically blank at this point, hands still clasped in front of you, gripping each other like your life depended on it while he claimed your lips and took your breath away. At some point you had reciprocated, kissing him back and earning a low growl from the back of his throat as a reward. He pulled away, your lipstick smeared across his face and his eyes glittering in lust as he looked at your disheveled form in perfect posture. “Hmm… yes… I think you’ll fit right into my needs.” He appraised, rubbing his chin and smirking. The expression sends a shiver down your spine but you didn’t dare move.

His hand guides you two steps forward towards his desk. “Bend over.” He commands and you oblige, your chest laying on the surface of the mahogany desk. Your hips flush against the edge of it while your hands stretched out to grasp at what it could to stay still as he asked. He readjusts you again, spreading your legs further, straining the fabric of your skirt. With a tsk of frustration, he pulled the offending piece of clothing up to your waist, letting the cool AC hit the back of your thighs and allowing him to spread your legs even further. In your heels, you could feel your calves tremble as you struggled to keep the position he had set for you. Thankful for the desk to cling onto, you used it to ground yourself as your ass is exposed to him. Your legs spread to the point where you were bent sharply, completely level with the desk and your hot core could feel the air conditioning blow past your heated nether lips. “You look good spread across my desk like this. I’ll be sure to make use of this position often.” He commented, rubbing your ass gently, teasing you through the fabric of your panties. His fingers brush across the wet spot on your panties and you can feel the it mold against your wet heat. Embarrassed, you stifled the whine that formed at the back of your throat. Even if the two of you were on a separate floor from others, you didn’t know if there were others right outside those heavy glass doors.

His teasing seemed to last forever and you could just see how much he was enjoying it whenever you dared to glance up and see your lewd reflection in the mirror with that salacious grin on his face as he fingered you oh so gently and left you on the edge of wanting more. Every time you glanced up even briefly, he always made sure to make eye contact with you in the reflection, knowing just how much you were affected by his basic touches.

Of course, he wasn’t getting out of the exchange with nothing. The slight bulge in his pants earlier had strained into an impressive tent seeing his new assistant splayed out before him, eager to please. Humans were such predictable creatures. Predictable, yet so much fun to toy with. He couldn’t get enough of the soft sighs that came from your lips as you held back your noises. It only made him want to see break for him even more. His slender, manicured fingers finally gave you a little relief, pressing against the wet spot in your panties and following the curves of your pussy lips that had molded themselves there due to your slick. At that, your hips bucked back, urging him to give him more but a firm hand on your lower back stopped any further movements. “I did not say you could move.”

You whined, clutching onto the edge of the desk, your fingers sore and locking up from how hard you were holding on. You weren’t sure how you were going to handle this sort of treatment on the regular when the trial run was already driving you mad with need. As if he could sense your impatience, he finally pulled down your panties, allowing your legs a brief reprieve as he took them off and tossed them to the side before making you resume the position you had held for who knew how long.

“For a trial run, you’re doing very well.” He cooed, smirking as he saw your glistening folds. “I should remind you that there are people still working in the building. We may have a floor to ourselves, but please keep that in mind and don’t scream too loudly now.” He chuckled darkly, tracing the curve of your ass and finally sinking a finger into your heat. Just the feeling of being penetrated by something had you keening and you struggled to keep yourself from screaming. “Ooh, that’s a pretty noise you make… Please make more of those.” he encouraged, slowly sliding his finger in and out of you.

“Y-yes sir.” You panted, your legs ached, but the pain was absolutely nothing compared to the pleasure that was building up in your abdomen just from feeling a finger slowly fuck you. You had come in for an interview and your soon to be boss was unraveling you in ways you had only fantasized about. All the while, Lucifer remained the very image of composure, if it weren’t for his very obvious hard on being pressed against the back of your thigh, you would have thought he was impervious to the scene he had orchestrated. Every time his finger dragged itself out of you, you let out an appreciative mewl, mind reeling as he pressed every button he needed for you to submit completely to him.

You lost track of time and how many times he left you wanting more with how his finger moved in and out of you. At some point, he had added a second, then a third, deliciously stretching you out. You were so wet and ready for him, you could feel your essence drip down your thighs as your legs struggled to keep you upright. Lucifer was patient, he had lived several millennia already, edging you until you were a begging mess on top of his desk for a few hours was absolutely nothing to him.

In a show of surprising restaurant, he pressed hot kisses against the back of your neck, nipping at your skin whenever you let out a particularly breathy sigh. The scent of sex and his cologne enveloped you and you were practically dizzy with need. “Sir…” You whined after he had curled his fingers in you, making you see stars and your walls trembled, clenching around his fingers. “Please… I need more…”

“Oh?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and removing his fingers, much to your dismay. He watched in amusement as your pussy twitched, clenching around air now that his fingers were no longer filling you. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he was surprised how long you had held out before you were begging for him. His erection had pressed against his impeccably tailored pants for so long, it was almost painful, yet, he couldn’t let you have your way just yet. Even if it was a trial, he still wanted to see just how far he could push you. “You think you really deserve more? You haven’t even gotten this job yet.”

His fingers were back on your wet, sopping cunt, sliding up and down your labia, rubbing slow, firm circles around your clit. You wailed, bucking your hips and forgetting the command to stay still until his other hand reminded you by spanking your ass cheek. “No moving.” He growled and you struggled to obey, stilling your body even though every part of you screamed to squirm and beg for him. “You will get more when I decide you get more.”

You could only nod in reply, letting him use your body as he saw fit. “For your next test. You will cum when I tell you to.” he breathed, pressing his finger against your clit, making you choke back a sob of pleasure. “After that, I promise you, you’ll be at the last part of the interview.”

“Yes, Sir. I’ll do what you want, Sir. Whatever you say, Sir.” You babbled mindlessly, your body aching for relief and release. The torture and pleasure he could pull out of you with just his fingers had your mind jumping to the future to what other things he could elicit out of you.

“Good girl.” He praised, patting your hair in a surprisingly soft gesture. He followed the gentleness with a chaste kiss on your lips before going right back to being the commanding figure you had met him as. He plunged his fingers into you again, knuckle deep and pumping in and out of you furiously, loving the way your walls fluttered and clenched as you held off on your orgasm until he permitted it. “You are so obedient… just what I like.” He praised breathlessly, working you closer and closer to the point of no return.

You couldn’t think straight, you didn’t care if others heard the lewd sounds coming from your lips as you whined, begging for release. You were so close, you wanted to cum so badly, but your determination to pass his test outweighed your desire and you held out until his silky voice whispered the blissful word into your ear. “Cum…” He purred and you gratefully crumbled, your body spasming around his fingers, milking it like it was his cock. Soft whines escaped your lips and tears of gratitude streaked down your face.

“Thank you, Sir.” You panted, blissed out and feeling weightless after such a powerful orgasm. Your vision blurred as you stared blankly at the wall, wondering if this was the end of the interview. Lucifer’s fingers leaving your sore pussy sure seemed to signal that things had reached a conclusion. Glancing up at the reflection in the windows, you flushed bright red when you saw Lucifer lewdly cleaning his fingers off with his tongue.

“Hmm… I think you would do well.” He said once his fingers no longer shone with your essence. He sauntered over to the other side of the desk where you clung onto for dear life. Sinking into his chair, he casually opened up one of the drawers, pulling out a contract and placing it in front of you. “If you believe you can keep up with my demands, then all you have to do is sign on the dotted line at the bottom. He slid you an ornate fountain pen into your hand.

Your trembling digits could barely hold onto the pen and you moved to start reading the contract, going over the terms and conditions of your new position. Most of it was the basic business jargon seen in every typical job. There were a few things that seemed out of place, but in your just fucked state of mind, it was very difficult to focus on what about them seemed wrong. Unable to really think straight about what you were getting yourself into, you placed the pen onto the paper, eager to start your new job.

Just as you the pen started to move, you heard the sound of a zipper being undone and the hard erection you had felt earlier on the back of your thigh now pressed up against your sore pussy. You gasped, eyes going wide at the feeling of being stretched out once again. “Well? Will you sign?” He asked casually, sinking into you inch by inch as you struggled to breath and think, let alone sign a contract.

“Yes… Yes, Sir…” you whined, starting to shakily write your name as he bottomed out inside of you. He hissed, taking a hold of your hips and roughly slamming them back into him to get as much contact as he could. You yelped, unable to write your name at all. Your hips banged against the edge of the desk with every one of his rough thrusts. No doubt, there would be dark bruises there the next day reminding you exactly what you did to get the job you were signing for now.

With each pass, Lucifer lets a little more of himself go, grunting in effort as he relished in the feeling of your hot walls surrounding him. He hadn’t found such an obedient human in a long time. It would be such a fun time for him to push your limits every day you were in his office. What he offered now was only a glimpse of what he had planned for you. Every time your hand stuttered in the middle of signing your name, his grin widened. The closer you were to sealing the contract with him, the closer he was to his own release that he had been holding back for hours now.

“Just a little more…” he urged, slowing down his thrusts so you had at least some time to get a few more letters of your name out. Just as you finished, he let out a primal growl, slamming his hips into yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room as he fucked you without abandon. The fountain pen fell from your fingers and you were back to clutching onto the edge of the desk as yet another explosive orgasm started to build in you.

Glancing up into the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of what Lucifer looked like while he was coming undone inside of you, you were surprised at the image you saw. It was only for a brief moment, but you swore you saw horns on him, and dark, feathery wings framing his body. The sound of the pen you dropped falling to the floor broke the illusion and the image of the prim and proper business man with an utterly feral look was all you saw.

He knew he wouldn’t last long once he entered you and so, he chased his release inside of you. As soon as the contract was signed, he was done for. His hand snaked around your abused waist to reach for your clit, bringing you to climax in time with his own. With a grateful groan, he released all the pent up tension in him, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you while your walls spasmed around him, milking every inch of him and accepting what he had given you. “Very good…” he cooed, his eyelids fluttering as he relished in the rush that came after such an explosive climax.

You whined, your body bruised and beaten, but also feeling absolutely boneless and euphoric. You hadn’t experienced anything like that before and it was all rather mindblowing to say the least. The contract in front of you with your shaky signature, ink blots from when you lost control of the pen and a fair amount of your tears stared back at you. This was your future. This would be a regular part of your life going forward; and you didn’t feel a shred of regret from it. You zoned out for a moment, hardly believing that it was all real.

Lucifer’s cock slipping out of you and the feeling of his cum dripping out of you snapped you back to reality. “Very good job. I’ll say you passed all the tests with flying colors.” He said, fixing his suit and continuing on as if he hadn’t just fucked the living daylights out of you. “I expect you to come in on Monday ready to work. I have a lot of filing for you to catch up with.”

He smirked, taking the signed contract and slipping it back into his desk. He cupped your chin in his hand and planted soft kisses on your lips, once again leaving you dizzy and breathless. “You are free to move now.” He said and you gratefully worked on closing your sore legs, wondering how you were going to make it out the office in the state that you were in. You weren’t sure you were able to walk, let alone get all the way home with how weak you were. Lucifer chuckled, dialing a few numbers into his cellphone. “I’ll arrange for a ride home for you.” He offered. “As a thank you for such a lovely interview.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, knowing you had a way to get back without catching too many unwanted stares at your disheveled state. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Lucifer.” He corrected briskly.

“Thank you, Lucifer. I’ll be sure to arrive on time Monday.” You sank into the chair to gather your wits about you, staring at your trembling hands.

“Good.” He said coolly and looking up at him, you gasped when you saw him casually twirling your panties on one finger as he looked down at you. “Your ride should be here shortly, please make sure you’re presentable, you do not want to dishonor me.”

“Yes. Of course, Lucifer.” you hastily combed your hand through your hair, hoping to take care of the worst of the flyaways. You glanced nervously at the panties in his hand, figuring they were a lost cause at this point and simply accepted the fact that you’d be taking this arranged ride with your boss’ cum dripping down your thigh. Carefully standing up, you remembered to assume the proper posture he had shown you earlier and he smiled in approval.

“Very good.” He gestured to the heavy glass doors, opening them as if with magic with a press of a button. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“Yes,Lucifer.” You replied obediently, taking the first shaky steps out.

“Oh, and one more thing.” he called out to your retreating form. You turned, blinking and wondering what else he could want from you. “Wear the same lipstick, will you? I’d love to see what that color looks like smeared all over my cock.”

“Yes, of course. As you wish.” You replied, blushing a deep red and rushing out of the office now, high off of getting the coveted position of Lucifer’s personal assistant and the prospect of what else he could ask you to do for him.

Watching you slip into the elevator, Lucifer smiled to himself. He reached into his desk and pulled out the contract, skimming the terms and conditions you had agreed to.

Humans were terribly predictable. Yet, they were also infinitely entertaining.

#Obey me #lucifer x mc #smut #obey me smut #my writing #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash #shameless smut

[magics-protector]

Mountain Sound

Soulmate AU: Soulmates have one song that connects them - when one soulmate listens to it, they both can see each other.

The Song: Mountain Sound - Of Monsters and Men

(which I think fits Merlin absolutely perfectly)

Spotify, Apple Music, Youtube

A small kind of crack fic from my Everlast series - which will start up sometime this week because it’s Reading Week and I finally have time to write it!

With a soft sigh leaving her lips, Y/N fell into her chair, dropping the books she carried down onto the table. A long start to an already long day, if you asked her. 

First, she had to help Jack get his hand out of a cookie jar (because apparently her adopted little brother couldn’t just ‘magic’ his way out of it). Then, her Uncle asked her to “help” with work on Baby’s engine - and by “help” she meant that he made her stand there while she held all his tools and wasn’t allowed to touch the engine itself. 

Not that she could complain. It was nice having everyone home for once - not that it was going to last long. Hence the reason for all the books. A new day would bring new cases and as always, Y/N was responsible for research - being her father’s daughter had it’s disadvantages in that way. 

Speaking of her dad, he sat across from her, eyes trained on the laptop in front of him as he searched and typed, falling into the same pattern quite easily. Pulling her knees up to her chest, Y/N opened the first book on her pile and began to research - so it seemed Dragons were the big enemy of the day. 

As she read, Y/N started to notice writing she hadn’t seen in over a year. Language she hadn’t seen since she disappeared. It was the old language of the Druid People. Something she had learned to read over the years. 

As she read on, Y/N noticed the old phrasing of the common Soulmate connection: “Songs and stories of different melodies and tunes. That is what shall lead thy heart to its destiny”. 

“Huh, well that kind of sucks.” She said, meaning to think it but it just came out. 

Sam pulled his head out of his computer and looked up. “What sucks?” 

Y/N looked up from the book, motioning to the page. “The language in this book. It talks about the soulmate connection. You’d expect it to rhyme, but it doesn’t.” 

A laugh like breath came from Sam as he shook his head. “Not all old texts have to rhyme, you know?” 

Y/N scoffed with a smile. “I know that. I just think it would have been funnier and more romantic if it did.” 

Then Y/N’s smile faded. “Hey, Dad?”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he looked down at his laptop again. 

“What was your song? You know, your song with Mom?”

Y/N could see Sam tense at the question. Y/N had known for so long that her parents were in fact soulmates, but Sam never talked about her. The memory of Will was almost to painful for him to remember. Not the relationship itself, but what happened to her. 

He shifted in his seat, looking down as he nodded before he stood up, moving around the table to sit next to Y/N, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “It was Rebel Rebel. That was our song.” 

Y/N turned her head, her face shocked. “Your song with Mom was Rebel Rebel? Dad, I did not take you as a David Bowie fan.” 

Sam chuckled, moving closer to the edge of the chair and placed Y/N’s head on his shoulder. “He grew on me, only because of your mother. She loved to listen to his stuff. Rebel Rebel may have been our song but I can still remember her screaming the words to Space Oddity like there was no tomorrow.” He moved his head to look down at her, placing a small kiss on her head. “You remind me of her. Everyday I can see her in everything that you do and I know how proud she’d been if she could see you.” 

Y/N smiled sadly. “Have you ever tried to see her again? Maybe if you listened to the song again you’d see her..” 

“It doesn’t work like that, Bug.” Sam chuckled sadly. “Your mother has been gone for a while. I don’t think it’s possible to see her again until I get to her myself.” 

Y/N could sense that the conversation was getting to him, so she stopped. She would have much gathered leaned in and enjoyed the moment, which is what she did. 

“Woah, didn’t realize we were interrupting a moment.” 

Sam and Y/N looked over to the archway of the library where Dean walked in, followed by Cas and Jack. 

“Where the hell have you been, Dean?” Sam shook his head. “I called you like an hour ago to help with research.” 

Dean scoffed, taking Sam’s old seat. “Yeah, well, I had to pick these two up from the Gas Station.” He pointed at Cas and Jack with his thumb. “And what’s this about research? You two obviously aren’t doing any - OW!” 

Cas whacked Dean across the back of his head. “Don’t be rude, Dean.” 

Dean didn’t argue, he couldn’t argue with Cas, so he just grumbled. 

Y/N giggled as she watched her Uncles interact - it was honestly so surprising how long it took for the both of them - well mainly Dean - to come to terms with their connection. 

“Hey, Dee?” 

Dean looked at Y/N with a hum. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your song?” 

Dean sat up, leaning back in his chair while Cas took a seat next to him. Cas had a smile on his face while Dean gave off a rare cross between a smirk and a smile. “Well, that’s easy. It’s --”

“You Shook Me All Night Long.” Both Dean and Cas said at the same time, which made the both of them smile at each other. 

Y/N nodded her head, almost as if in agreement. “How did I know?” She giggled. 

Jack smiled too - he hadn’t found his song yet, but he was waiting, knowing he’d find it one day. He looked over at his ‘sister’ with a curious face. “Why do you ask, Y/N? You’ve never been interested in Soulmate songs before.” 

Y/N felt all eyes on her. She thought for a moment, before she answered. “Well.... I kind of want to find my song.....” 

Dean looked at his niece with that bothersome uncle look. “I thought you had no interest in finding them.” 

Y/n looked down at her hands, rubbing them together. “But I did. At least, I’m 99% sure I found him.” 

Everyone’s faces erupting with smiles and cheers - Sam gripped her tight in a side hug. “That’s amazing, Y/N!” 

“What’s the kid’s name?” 

“Where’s he from?” 

“What’s your song?” 

Y/N put her hands up to stop them.”Woah! Woah! I never said I found my song. I just said I think I found him.” 

Cue the confusion. “But,” Jack tilted his head. “if you haven’t found your song, then how do you know?” 

Y/N took a breath before she stood up, walking towards a pillar of the archway and leaned against it. “I just feel it.” She laughed with a smile. “When I was with him, it was like.. nothing else mattered....” She shook her head. “What we went through was a lot for two people to handle, but with Merls, it was like.... it was like we could take on the whole world and no matter what the outcome was, as long as I had him, I won.” She seemed so lost in the memory, so lost that when she came back she went pink with embarrassment and she held her arms. “If that makes any sense....” 

Sam, Dean and Cas looked at each other with knowing looks. “Well then,” Dean said. “Looks like we have a song to find. After all,” Y/N looked at her uncle in confusion. “We don’t want to leave him waiting.” 

*******************************************************************************

“Ugh, this is hopeless!” 

Hours and hours of music and nothing. They tried it all - Bon Jovi, Hozier, My Chemical Romance, Lana Del Rey and countless other bands and still nothing. 

The team sat there for hours, playing music from Dean’s collection, random bands they found on YouTube, but nothing was working. 

Y/N slumped in her chair, defeated. She ran her hands over her face before she stopped and sat up quickly. “Wait!” She looked at her dad. “Dad, you said you weren’t very fond of Bowie but Rebel Rebel was your song with Mom. How did you find it?” 

Sam sat for a moment, his hand over his mouth as he thought, before his eyes went wide. “There was something that connected it to me. I would see the record or hear it faintly on the radio and that’s basically how I found it.” He leaned forward to pull his laptop towards him. “Is there any song that just stands out to you, Y/N? One that you can think of without hesitating? Like you’d see the album and feel a pull?” 

Y/N thought for a moment when her eyes went wide. She raised her head slightly and mumbled under her breath. 

“What?” 

She looked up at her family. “Mountain Sound. It’s a song by Of Monsters and Men. I’ve never really thought about it til now, but there’s something about it.” 

Sam quickly typed it into his search engine and pulled it up, handing it and the headphones over to Y/N. 

With shaky hands, Y/N put the headphones on and started the song and it was like the world had stopped. Swirls of gold filled the void in the archway capturing her gaze and she smiled. Those golden swirls soon started to form the shape of a man sitting with a book on his lap. That man, Y/N knew him better than anyone did. Tears pooled in her eyes as her smile grew wider. “I knew it.” 

Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack all smiled. They did it. 

As the swirls finished forming the boy, Y/N moved to the floor, carrying the laptop down with her as she moved closer to his form. The boy seemed to enticed by his book until he looked up and over her way. He looked around hearing the music himself and then he looked at Y/N and a smile broke out on his face, tears in his eyes. 

“Y/N?” His voice was eery, but that was normal for this kind of thing. 

Forgetting she was in the presence of her family, Y/N laughed, tears streaming down her face. “Hey, Merlin.” 

The young Warlock smiled, lunging forward to touch her, and through the power of their song, he hugged her for the first time in over a year. “I never thought I’d see you again, My Love....” He lamented. 

Y/N held him close. “Takes a lot more than a glassy portal to keep me away from you, you Cabbage head.”

Merlin pulled back, but made sure to keep a hand on her shoulders. “Where are you? We looked everywhere for you. I thought Arthur was going to take off my head if you weren’t found.” 

Y/N looked up at her soulmate and smiled. “How badly did you irritate him this time?”

With a look of pride, Merlin answered. “I going to be honest, I nearly had the Knights turn on him.” 

“Pft, hahaha! Merlin! You can’t just lead a coup against Arthur! That’s my job!”

Merlin laughed, he laughed so hard that he leaned forward and turned, resting his head on Y/N’s legs. “Honestly, to be fair, it wasn't his fault. All those Lords had been quite vocal about their disapproval over your rescue mission. I thought Gwaine was gonna tear off someone’s ear.” 

Y/N giggled, playing with Merlin’s blackish brown locks which had grown out since the last time she saw him while her other hand ran over his cheek, where a small stubble had grown as well. “I wouldn’t put it past him to do that.” 

“No. But I think the others would have let him if Arthur hadn’t been in the room.” 

Y/N looked down into his eyes and smiled. “It’s just nice to know I’ll have a huge welcoming when I get back.” 

Meanwhile, as Y/N and Merlin continued to ramble and talk away as the song repeated and repeated over and over again, Sam and the rest of Team Free Will decided to leave Y/N alone with her soulmate and as they left through the back door, Sam watched as Y/N smiled the brightest smile he’s ever seen. Silently, he vowed that he’d make sure Y/N got back to wherever she had disappeared to. 

#BBC merlin #bbc merlin imagines #soulmate #soulmateau #soulmate au #spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #bbc merlin x reader #merlin #merlin x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #castiel winchester #jack kline #jack winchester #destiel

[shipping-receiving]

Fictober 2019 Day 23: “You can’t give more than yourself.”

Rating: T | Word Count: 1671 Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire / Game of Thrones Relationship: Jaime Lannister / Brienne of Tarth Tags: Alternate Universe – College/University Notes: Sort of a sequel to Day 5′s college AU

(read on AO3)

//////

There’s no other word for it.

Brienne’s dorm room is tiny.

She only chose it because it was the cheapest option that still allowed her to have her own personal space. Plus it had an attached bathroom—also tiny, but it was just hers.

The thing is, Brienne’s dorm room was tiny even when she was the only one in it. Now there’s a Jaime in it too, almost always.

Oh, she was perfectly fine with it those handful of times he had been in her dorm room in the last gasp of the last semester, when they were working on that Medieval Studies assignment. With the two of them sprawled on the floor, books and notes and laptops and all, they basically covered the entire available floor space. She was perfectly fine with it then, because it was temporary.

And then she had gone and kissed him.

Then they hadn’t seen each other for the whole break—she went back to Tarth, he split his time between King’s Landing and Casterly Rock—and now they were five weeks deep into the new semester, and he just wouldn’t leave. He has a gigantic apartment just outside of campus, and he chooses to be here.

Fine, so he shares that gigantic apartment with his twin sister Cersei, who’s apparently not taking the news of his relationship with Brienne very well, for whatever reason. Brienne knows he just doesn’t want to be around his sister right now, and she’s honestly, truly flattered that he’d want to spend time with her, but—does it have to happen in her dorm room? Her tiny dorm room?

She suspects that the only reason he’s not sleeping here, besides the rules about overnight guests, is that her bed is similarly tiny. They still haven’t progressed much further than—okay, they had gone quite a bit further than kissing. But they haven’t really done anything that technically required the use of a bed. They did, however, attempt to cuddle a few times, and those few times had ended with Jaime on the floor. Jaime spending the whole night in bed with her, even just sleeping beside her fully clothed, would be physically impossible.

At least she’s gotten him to stop talking so much when she’s working. When I’m at my desk, don’t talk to me unless it’s urgent, she finally told him two weeks ago. Just sit on my bed, or wherever, do whatever you want, as long as you don’t talk to me while I’m working. She felt, bizarrely, like she was trying to train a dog. Sit. Stay.

He’s lying on the bed now, quietly flipping through one of the books she brought with her from Tarth that she thought might be useful this semester. She’s eyeballs deep in an essay due tomorrow, and trying very hard to ignore the sound of those flipping pages.

And then Brienne hears: “Wench.”

She didn’t say he was the most obedient dog.

Brienne ignores Jaime, too focused on trying to get the phrasing right for this one sentence that’s been bothering her for the past twenty minutes.

“Brienne,” he calls again.

She turns around and sighs. “Is this urgent, Jaime?”

He flips the book around and points to a note in the margins. “What’s this?” He turns it back and reads it out: “It says, ‘You can’t give more—’”

“Oh!” Brienne exclaims, trying her hardest not to blush. She remembers exactly when and why she wrote those words. “I forgot I wrote that in there.”

“What does it mean? ‘You can’t give more than yourself’? Doesn’t seem to relate to anything on this page.”

Brienne rests her arm across the back of her chair, and picks at the woodgrain. “It’s something my dad used to tell me. I always—remember how I told you how I’ve always pushed myself really hard? In school, or sports, or whatever?”

She doesn’t lift her gaze from the woodgrain, but she sees Jaime nod at the periphery of her vision.

“I always wanted to prove I was more than just—my body. More than what all the bullies thought of me. Sometimes my dad thought I was pushing myself too much. ‘You can’t give more than yourself’, he would say. But I thought it was nonsense. I even told him so, sometimes. I was always trying to be more.” She laughs; lightly, sardonically. “Which I suppose is kinda funny, because I always wished my body could be less.”

Brienne knows Jaime will be tempted to respond to that, say something about how he likes her body the way that it is, but she doesn’t want to hear it. She looks up then, just to silence him—he did have his mouth half-open, on the verge of words, but he meets her eyes and closes it. What they have between them is new, fragile—they haven’t figured out yet how to talk about her body in a way that’s comfortable for her. Just as they haven’t figured out yet how to talk about Cersei, or the rest of his family, in a way that’s comfortable for him.

After a beat, Jaime lies back on the bed, the book face down on his chest. “You know,” he says to the ceiling, “my father always wanted me to give more. To be more. My sister, too, in some ways. Something… closer to what they wanted me to be. They didn’t put it quite like that, that I had to give more than myself. But it was implied, I guess.”

“Oh,” Brienne replies, simply. She doesn’t think Jaime is quite ready to talk about all that. He said those words as if he’d just realised all of that in this very moment. She takes a breath instead, prepares herself to tell him the truth of that note in the margin.

“I wrote that phrase there over break.”

“Ah,” Jaime says as he lifts the book up from his chest to scrutinise the words again. “I thought this seemed pretty recent.”

“Yeah. I was… I was trying to read the book. But I was getting distracted.” She bites her lip. “I was thinking of you. Of us.”

He turns his head to look at her, a pleased expression on his face, but waits for her to continue.

“My dad thought I was working too hard again, studying over break. I was actually texting you half the time I was trying to study, but he didn’t know that.” Brienne smiles as she thinks of how she sandwiched her phone between the pages of her books, and the excitement she felt every time it lit up with Jaime’s name, even though he was texting her so frequently she barely had time to anticipate each new message. “So he said that to me again. ‘You can’t give more than yourself.’ And then, for what felt like the first time, I thought—oh. I don’t want to.”

“How so?”

“I guess—I don’t know. I felt like, with you, I just had to be me. Like I was enough for you, and you didn’t need me to be more. I mean, all we had done at the time was kiss, and we hadn’t even talked about what we were supposed to be, to each other.”

Pretty much the moment they had got back from break, they had forced themselves through the world’s most awkward conversation—in Brienne’s tiny dorm room, of course—in order to clarify things between them. But those weeks apart, they were really nothing more than classmates who happened to have kissed, and who couldn’t stop texting each other.

“It was kinda early for me to feel that way, I suppose,” Brienne continues, conscious still of Jaime’s eyes on her, of the generosity of his silence. “But the whole time I was on Tarth, I would wake up every morning and think, ‘This is the day he stops texting me.’ But you always did. And it was—it was nice. To feel like I was enough for someone, even for just a moment. Even just over text. Even though I… I don’t always feel enough for myself.”

Brienne sits up, retracts her arm from the back of the chair. She feels stripped bare by her own confessions. “Anyway.” She wraps her arms around herself, tucks her chin into her chest. “That’s why I doodled that in the book. I guess I was thinking about how this sentence I had known for so long could feel so different. Almost like it had a different meaning.”

Jaime is quiet for a long while. He won’t tear his eyes from her, but he’s not saying anything. Her dorm room feels tinier than ever; the silence is congealing around them, a third living entity taking up the space between her desk and her bed.

But just as Brienne starts to feel some regret at sharing those thoughts—was it too soon? too much? more than I should have said?—Jaime asks:

“Wanna take a break?”

Brienne looks up. “Huh?”

“You’ve been at that essay for hours,” he says, shifting towards the wall. “Take a break. Come here.” He pats the space he’s made for her on the bed.

“We can’t fit, Jaime,” Brienne laughs. He didn’t respond to anything she said, not with words, but she finds she doesn’t mind. “We’ve tried.”

“You’re on the outside this time,” he smirks. “It’s your responsibility to not fall off.”

She does fall off, later. She brings Jaime down to the floor with her, of course—he deserves the same fate, for distracting her from her essay. They kiss there on the carpet—where there’s just enough space for them both—and suddenly Brienne knows exactly how she should phrase that stupid sentence she’s been struggling with.

But she’ll deal with that later. Now—now is for kissing Jaime. She thinks, between breaths, that she’d like to make her own amendment to her father’s words. It’s not that you can’t—it’s that you don’t have to give more than yourself. Not to the ones who matter. That’s what she should have doodled in the margins instead.

#fictober19 #jaime x brienne #braime #my fic #thanks to jen for the idea! #and this sounds so different from the first instalment #office AU turned super soft by part 2 too #it's like i can't sustain crack for more than one story at most

[im-whatchamccallit]

Bookworm//Mark Tuan (Got7)

Request: Hello there! I just read your Mark imagine and it was sooooo good! I really enjoyed the character development. Do you think you could write a college boyfriend Mark imagine? Where he’s popular but his girlfriend is a shy, quiet bookworm but he really loves and adores her? Please make it really fluffy. College life is rough, if Mark were my boyfriend I’d graduate with a 4.0 deadass. Thank you so much!! Have a nice day 🥰

Pairing: Mark Tuan x Reader

Genre: Fluff, College!Au

Warnings: Greatly planned out in my mind but horribly executed cdiknjv

Words: 3.43k

“Are we really going to Brian’s party? He gives me a bad vibes.”

“You’re just upset he beat you in a dance competition almost 6 years ago. Let it go already.” Dahyun said to Yugyeom as he tried to defend himself from the truth, leading to a chorus of laughter and arguing from the others following beside them.

Mark ignored the group of ten as he held onto the paper bag in his hand, filled with a chicken club sandwich from a local deli you loved. He knew you had a free period now and that you always sat on a bench by the large tree in your campus’ atrium, so he scanned the area closely until he saw the distinguished catalpa tree. The talking grew muffled as he focused in on the sapling, its slim trunk bent although its crown of leaves grew perfectly, a person’s frame sitting just beside it as their hand turned what seemed like a book. That was definitely you. Mark knew it.

“I have to go. I’ll text you later.” Mark said with a wave, not waiting for any goodbyes as he eagerly jogged towards you.

His feet began to slow down as his footsteps grew small, trying to hide his presence as he inched closer and closer, a mischievous grin on his face as he stood onto the large box shaped marble planter that held the tree and its soil to stand just above your back before jumping down and placing his free hand onto your shoulder, a loud scream escaping your lips.

Mark was certain he’d gotten you, knowing you hated being scared, ready to laugh and apologize as you turned to glare at him. Except, it wasn’t you. It was a woman that he’d never met before, standing angrily with her fist clenched.

“I-I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.” Mark apologized, stepping away slowly as she continued to burn his flesh with her stare.

If that wasn’t you, where could you be? It was your free period and the final class of the day for everyone else. You never went to your dorm right after class ended though. You would wait for Mark so you could walk to either of your dorms together, that was your routine. But everything was off. You couldn’t have left so soon, could you?

Mark sighed and grabbed his phone from his back pocket, going to his recent calls to see your name at the very top, instantly pressing it and bringing the phone to his ears, only to be met with your voicemail. He was starting to get worried. He knew your entire schedule and habits like the back of his hand yet he was stumped. There had to be some clue as to where you might be. Mr. LeBeau. You said something about seeing him some days ago. But what exactly was it?

“Wait, so he’s trying to heal his father and a fairy’s helping him?”

“No, it’s his mother. And he took the fairy hostage so he can get a ton of gold and a wish from her.” You explained as Mark stared down at you from your position on his chest, your eyes scanning over the pages of the book you had read so many times.

You sighed and closed it, placing it gently onto the empty side of Mark’s bed, the hand wrapped around your waist massaging you softly.

“I’m sorry, (Y/Nickname). I’m just not understanding it.”

“It’s not you. I just wish I could talk to someone about these kinds of stories. I feel lonely having to think about it all by myself.” You admitted, starting to pity yourself for your antisocial mannerisms but also your very outdated taste in literature.

“Why not join a book club?”

“Where would I find a book club?” You grumbled, beginning to sulk before your eyes lit up, your body sitting up to face your boyfriend who had no idea what he’d just done.

“I can start a book club! At school! It can be after school on Thursdays. And Mr. LeBeau wouldn’t mind if I used his class. He loves me. And we can even read ‘Brand New World’! I think he has a few copies and I have my own!”

Mark couldn’t help but smile at you, your wide eyes growing wider as you continued to ramble on about your plans for a book club that had yet been approved or existed. It was one of the things he loved most about you. Your shyness was never strong enough to hide your passion, your body bouncing with excitement like a child in a candy store, the mention of various books you had sitting on your shelves but had yet to read making you smile brightly, finally having the opportunity to socialize in your own element. Your own safe space.

You had tried going to parties with Mark, trying to befriend his friends, but it was never for you. The only friends you truly had were your roommates and even they were social butterflies. Mark knew you always felt bad telling him you wanted to stay home, his instincts to comfort you kicking in as he joined you for a night in, taking away from the time he could be with his friends. Even though he never minded it, he was happy to see you so happy, ready to support any and everything you did.

“So, when’s the first day of your book club going to start?” Mark asked amused, watching as you finally calmed down, your bright smile falling slightly as you thought about it.

“I think I have to ask Mr. LeBeau if he’ll allow me to use his class first.”

Mark panted as he rushed to the school’s third floor, knocking on the vacant classroom’s door before entering, Mr. LeBeau sitting at his desk with his feet up and phone in hand. For such an old man, he was laid back. Even more laid back than some of the younger professors.

“Mark. How can I help you?” Mr. LeBeau asked as he set his phone down, crossing his arms as he waited for him to catch his breath.

“Have you seen (Y/N)? I can’t find her anywhere.” Mr. LeBeau raised an eyebrow before taking his feet down, sitting up right.

“I haven’t. She actually texted me earlier saying she wanted to talk when she was free, but she hasn’t showed.” Mark sighed, his brain spinning with different possibilities of where you could have gone. Overall, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

His eyes widened as he finally realized the most obvious place he missed, saying a quick goodbye to his former teacher before sprinting from the room and into the halls, clutching the now cold sandwich tighter in his hand as he headed for the stairwell, luckily only having to go to the second floor this time. Of all the places to check, the library should have been his first guess.

Mark calmly walked in, bowing to the librarian who nodded to him, his body not stopping as he walked by a series of bookshelves, looking between them to make sure you were there. He almost reached the last shelf when he saw a sullen figure in the window, knees curled as they held a book in their hands and pressed the side of their head to the window. If this wasn’t you, he was sure he’d scream.

He slowly approached you, making sure to get a good luck at your face and bookbag to see it was really you this time, sighing as his steps become more confident. You didn’t realize he was there, your eyes too focused on the practically ancient literature, your hands flipping the fragile pages as you saw a male body sit just by your feet, your eyes not daring to meet theirs.

“’A Study in Scarlet’? Sounds like a good book.” Mark commented, smiling as you glanced up at him before diverting your attention back the revamped story.

“It is. My boyfriend searched everywhere to get it for my birthday.”

“You’re damn right I did.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at him, finally looking up at him to see a sympathetic smile on his face.

“I thought you were gonna talk to Mr. LeBeau about the book club today?” You glanced away briefly, looking back to your book and then him, feeling your chest tighten with sadness.

“I realized how stupid the idea was.”

“What? But it’s no-“

“I walked out of class so happy about it but then I realized no one would want to join. Even literature majors wouldn’t want to join. They study it almost every day for four years, the last thing they want to do is read in their spare time.  I don’t need a book club, I guess.” You sounded so defeated, your eyes focusing back on the book you were once so excited for but suddenly left you feeling indifferent.

Mark slowly pulled the book from your grasp, replacing it with a crinkled brown paper bag, your brows furrowing as he flipped back to the first page and adjusting himself so that his body could also fit in the long but narrow window sill.

“We don’t need a ton of people to start a book club. It can just be us.”

“Mark, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Besides, I think I should start reading books on my own instead of having you do it. Even though I like your voice better.” Mark always complimented you during times like this, when you two debated about something of this nature, making you feel so flustered and shy that you dropped your rebuttal.

As much as you wanted to protest, to tell him you already felt burdensome for keeping him from his friends, you couldn’t help but smile. Mark was never one to go back on his word, even if the situations changed and it seemed impossible, he still kept his promises. Even if it was only you two, the fact he would put in effort and time to help you find some happiness or comfort was heartwarming, the need to cry tears of joy while squealing like some fangirl was overwhelming. Instead, you opted for a simple kiss on his cheek, watching his lips curl upward at your random display of affection as he continued to read the detective novel.

The next day, Mark stuck to his word. Once Mr. LeBeau’s third class of the day let out, Mark asked to use his classroom after hours on Thursdays and possibly some Wednesdays for book club, receiving an automatic yes. He knew Mark was a great person and he was an even better student, so he knew his classroom would be in good hands.

With his free period, Mark decided to use that time effectively. He stood by the library’s oversized printer, watching the various flyers fall into the tray before the machine went quiet, his hands immediately grabbing the hot stack to analyze his simple but eye catching design.

“Thanks again, Ms. Oh.” Mark said politely, causing the woman to smile at the acknowledgement.

“You’re welcome. I’ll have some of the student assistants bring the cart of books to you.”

“No thank you. I’ll be back to get them.” He bowed and exited the library, making his way down the occupied but not so busy halls.

One of the things Mark liked most about his overall popularity on campus was that it gave him a chance to befriend everyone, even people who seemed like complete opposites to him finding his presence enjoyable. So it was no trouble for him to move around campus, handing flyers out to passing by students with a bright smile and pinning them to bulletin boards across the halls. He even had time to stop by the art department, filling them in on how his girlfriend wanted to create a book club and how, despite her social awkwardness, she put in a great deal of effort with planning it, subsequently gaining their interest.

Mark sighed in content as he finally taped the last flyer to a light pole just outside the school, just in time for classes to end and students flying out to head to who knows where. His phone began to vibrate excessively, his hand quickly grabbing it to see the familiar photo of you trying to eat a large spoon full of rice in one go. He was tempted to just stare at the embarrassingly cute photo but answered anyways, bringing the device to his ear as he began to head back inside.

“Baby!” You couldn’t help but giggle at Mark’s outburst, trying to keep the grin off your face as you exited your classroom, not wanting to draw attention to yourself.

“Are we still meeting at the library?”

“No. Head to Mr. LeBeau’s class and I’ll meet you there.” You were about to ask why the sudden change when he hung up, a small sigh leaving your lips as you made a left down the hall.

You were actually excited for today, yet you didn’t know why. Most days, you’d be sulky and anxious at the thought that you were keeping Mark from his friends. But, at this moment, you were more than happy to take his company. For once, it didn’t feel like you were forcing Mark to enjoy the things you did. Although, you would miss reading to him and hearing his cute ‘Huh’ every time he got confused by the sudden plot change. But you were curious to see what he had to say about the book so far.

An actual discussion with Mark about a book you both read? You couldn’t contain your excitement at that point.

You happily knocked on Mr. LeBeau’s door before entering, allowing the door to shut behind you as you walked further in, multiple voices being heard and your smile fell. Did Mr. LeBeau have some other after school club going on there?

“Excuse me,” You pulled yourself from your thoughts as an obvious first-year student approached you, holding onto a sheet of paper tightly as she stared at you with a small smile.

“Y-yes?”

“Are you here for the book club? We’re waiting on (Y/N). She’s the one that started it.” You looked from the woman to the people behind her, your eyes quickly calculating each of them to see there was 15 people there. 15. For your book club.

“I’m (Y/n). But I-I don’t remember making p-posters for the book club…”

“Mark came to our classes to hand them out. He told us all about you wanting to start a book club and I think it’s so sweet how much he’s helping you out with this. Plus, to be honest with you, the English majors are kinda sick of reading ‘Othello’. This would be a good break for us.” She said over your small voice, your ears perking up at the mention of one of your favorite tragedies.

“’Othello’ does get frustrating after a while. I think the biggest flaw is within the characters. Even though the story progresses, they seem like they’re still in the same spot personality and maturity wise.” You commented, not noticing your feet had begun to move as you inched further into the room.

“Please. The theater department has been reading the script for ‘Romeo and Juliet’ so much, we even started questioning how it became such a classic. Every character acts purely on emotions without logic. I even found the side characters more bearable than the main ones.” A guy leaning against Mr. LeBeau’s desk commented, a small chorus of agreement following from who you could only assume were other members from theater.

“Maybe the problem is Shakespeare.” You jumped at the sound of a voice so close behind you, turning to see Mark pushing a cart covered in 3 cardboard boxes, all obviously heavy as he used all of his strength to move them.

It only took about five minutes for everyone to settle in and, surprisingly, everyone seemed to be enjoying their time there. Although you didn’t read anything the entire time, just discussing the books you previously read and ones that you hoped to read in the future, it was amazing.

Mark leaned against a desk as he wrapped his arms around your waist, your body leaning into his as his head rested on your shoulder, watching you smile and laugh at your potentially new friends before giving your own input on George Orwell’s ‘1984’.

He didn’t have to do any of this. He actually preferred if it were just you two. But the thought that when he went off with his friends, you’d be alone, with little to no one to talk to or hang out with, made him sad. Sure, you accepted his proposal of a two person book club, but he wanted to make sure that for the days he couldn’t be there, you didn’t have to be alone. And, even if he was there, you’d be surrounded by bookworms just like you.

“So we’re meeting here again next Thursday?” A guy, who you learned as Jisung, asked as him and the others began to collect their bags, your eyes widening as you scrambled to stand straight, Mark following you as he refused to remove you from his grasp.

“Uhm, yeah. If that works for everyone.” Everyone nodded in agreement as you smiled awkwardly.

“I actually didn’t have a book picked out for us to read. I’m sorry.” You said awkwardly, feeling embarrassed that the sudden change of plans left them without anything to read, probably wasting their time with all of this.

Mark looked at your face, watching your eyes wander to the ground while your eyebrows furrowed, something you usually did when you were overthinking, typically when you were beating yourself up over a minuscule mistake. He inconspicuously released you and headed towards the large cart, as he had made sure he was one step ahead of you, opening one of the boxes before pulling out an unfamiliar book.

“How about this one? It’s ‘The Calligrapher’s Daughter’.” Mark said as he passed the book to you, watching carefully as you read the synopsis aloud, everyone intrigued by the plot. A fictional nonfiction story with hints of history inside? They were sold.

Everyone grabbed a copy as you skimmed through the book, calling out for them to stop at page 38 before excitedly waving goodbye, watching closely as they all left until it was only you and Mark in the room. Mark was caught off guard as you suddenly leaped onto him, your arms wrapped around his waist as you thanked him profusely, the feeling of your large smile on his chest causing him to hug you back just as tightly.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the world.” You muttered, pulling away just enough to see his face.

“Of course I am. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to make you smile.”

That comment alone caused you to pull away, looking down as you tried to hide your grin as your face grew hot. If Mark never thought you were cute, he definitely did now.

“Come on. I need to return these books to Ms. Oh.” He said, moving back to the cart and waiting until you were at his side to begin walking.

“I’m happy you did this for me, but I’m gonna miss reading to you when I have free time.” You admitted, holding the large door open so that he could get through easily, your feet moving fast to catch back up with him.

“You can still read to me. That way, next Thursday, I’ll know exactly what you’re talking about.” You raised an eyebrow at the statement, already skeptical of his words.

“Really? Are you going to actually listen this time?”

“Yes! I’m always listening.”

“Okay, then tell me the plot to ‘Artemis Fowl’, since you’re always listening.” You challenged, holding your book close to you as his face contorted in a mixture of confusion and shock, probably realizing he had no clue what story that was, despite it being one of your childhood favorites that you mention almost twice a week.

“I know this! The boy is a fairy and has to find gold to save his father!” Mark spoke with so much confidence, his courage dying down as he turned to see your lips pursed as you tried to subdue the fit of giggles threatening to spill.

“No. That’s not it at all.”

#Mark tuan fluff #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan scenarios #mark tuan reactions #got7 fluff #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #got7 reactions #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop scenarios #kpop rections

[akamaiden]

Entertainer (2)

A/N: Second chapter is finally here, guys! I’d like to thank to anyone who reblogged and took a time to leave me some feedback, honestly you guys are the best. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Pairing: Ivar x Reader (Modern!AU)

Warnings: None I think.

Words: 1.720.

Read previous part here // My masterlist

Weeks passed since you met Ivar and there wasn’t a day that him didn’t cross your mind. You know he had your number, but you didn’t stop asking yourself why he didn’t call you yet, or even just sent a fucking message. Anxiety was literally getting the best from you. You didn’t sleep peacefully, you just ate the enough to keep your body standing, the boy literally got you obsessed right in the first meeting.

“Hey! I’m talking to you” Laila said to you.

“What?” you asked focusing on her presence for the first time in the night.

“God, were you even listening to me?” she asked.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “What were you trying to say?” you said.

“Forget it. Why are you acting strange those days?” she asked.

You took a long breath before saying, “Remember that ridiculous handsome man that came here one of those days?”

She nodded and you continued, “When you went away he offered to drive me home and I accepted-”

“Are you fucking crazy? He could be a damn psycho, you could be dead by now! Doesn’t your mother talked about not talking to strangers?”

You rolled your eyes at her reaction, ignored and continued talking “We talked a lot meanwhile and I don’t know, I feel like I already know him for ages. Does it makes sense?”

“Y/N, don’t lie to me, are you using any type of drug?” Laila asked genuinely worried,

“What? No!” you said like that was obvious.

“So you’re saying that you fell in love for a man that you just saw once?”

Once your mind processed her words, you understood why you couldn’t think in anything else but Ivar. God, you were in love with him and you knew so little from him, yet if it was needed you would do anything for him.

“I’m such a dumbass sometimes,” you said hiding your face in the palm of your hands.

“I wouldn’t say sometimes, my dear, but I got your point.” Laila said clearly trying to light up the mood.

“Hey,” she said holding your hands. “This guy would be a dickhead if he didn’t call you, maybe he’s just busy with work, I don’t know. Give him a time,” she continued.

“Do you think so?” you asked.

She nodded before saying, “Now put on a fake smile in your gorgeous face because soon this place will be crowded.”

God, you wished she was wrong. But that night looked like you were serving the entire population of your city, so when the time came you were happy that you were going home. You said goodbye to Laila and started making your way to the subway station when suddenly a black jaguar stopped at your side. You would ignore it if the person inside didn’t honk at you.

You looked at the car and before you ask yourself what the fuck was happening, the window rolled down and you saw the man that was hunting down your thoughts smiling at you.

“Hi Ivar,” you said.

He didn’t answer you, he just opened the door of the passenger side for you and you glady entered his car.

“Hi gorgeous,” he said.

You looked at him hesitantly you didn’t know what you should do next, kiss him in the cheek, hug him or whatever. Glady Ivar lead the way when he came closer to you and kissed the very corner of your mouth. You thought you would faint right when his scent overflowed your senses, his presence was so strong that just the simple act made your heart beat faster.

“I thought you’d call me,” you said.

Ivar noticed the hint of sadness and maybe neediness in your voice.

“I know I should’ve done this but life went crazy and I just came back from Italy,” he said like Italy was the closest neighbourhood.

“And why are you here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” you asked.

“Indeed I should but I needed to see you,” he said.

“Ivar-”

“During the trip there wasn’t a fuckin day that I didn’t think of you. Fucking hell, I even dreamed of you,” he continued.

And then you let it go. The next thing you remember was that you kissed Ivar. You touched his lips with yours, pulling him closer to you by his coat, you melted when you felt how plump and soft were his lips. And God, they felt amazing against yours.

Honestly, you didn’t want that precious moment to end, you wished that the world have stopped just for the two of you. Ivar managed to bite your bottom lip what made you moan and giving him space to guide his tongue inside your mouth. His tongue danced with your for what felt like hours. When breathing became a necessity you broke the kiss.

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to do this too,” he said smiling.

“I wish things were different,” you said feeling guilty, because even that Ivar didn’t love his wife he still had a compromise to her and owned her fidelity.

“Trust me, me too,” he said and caressed your cheek lightly. “Can I take you to a special place now?” he asked.

“You can take me anywhere you want,” you said.

You saw Ivar’s eyes shining with excitement before he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you two made your way to God knows where, you keep talking to him and little by little Ivar revealed to be even more interesting.

Suddenly Ivar stopped at the most isolated spot of the most beautiful park. He guided you to one of the benches and opened his arms to you. You nestled between his arms and sighed happily once his arms envolved your body. Again, you felt like your body fitted his perfectly. Your head was right over his shoulders and he was caressing your arms.

You two stayed in silence for a long time, it wasn’t the uncomfortable type of silence, actually it was just a relaxing moment. You two were observing the full moon that brighten beautifully in the sky.

“Can I ask you something?” you asked once the curiosity took the best of you.

“Anything,” he answered immediately.

“Why did you marry her?” you asked.

You felt Ivar shifting in his place and taking a deep breath before answering, “I needed to marry her. Basically, it was for the sake of my family’s business. We were almost broke because one of our projects with parisian partners didn’t work out. My father knew her father and he asked for some money, you know like a loan, and he said that he could literally give the money if I married her daughter. She used to have a crush on me since, well, always and then I’m here stuck in this failed marriage.”

“Did you try to make it work?” you asked.

“At first, yes. She’s beautiful after all but it turned awfully. She’s disgusting, isn’t the type of woman I’d like to grow old with,” he started. “And that’s why I’m doing the impossible to save all the money her father gave to our company so I can get rid of her,” he continued.

“Sounds like a good plan,” you said smiling.

“I don’t imagine why you like so much,” he said cynically and then he kissed your neck making a shiver pass through your body.

“What about me Ivar? What do I mean to you?” you asked cautiously.

“A fresh new start. The start of something great, of a happy life maybe. I hope we’re in the same page,” he said.

You got out of his embrace and turned your eyes to him, “Maybe it sounds insane but I don’t think that’s anything that would make me more happy.”

“Maybe it sounds a bit insane, but I couldn’t care less,” he said.

He guided his hands to your waist and he pulled you closer, until there was no space between your bodies. He kissed you softly this time, like he was savouring you. Your hands found his neck and you melted on his arms. Before you could think coherently you were straddling him, rolling your hips against his crotch and gaining from him a few grunts. You could felt him getting harder against you and you knew you were getting wetter too.

“Ivar,” you mewled.

“I want you,” he said with his eyes darker overflowing lust.

“I’m yours,” you said.

And then his phone started ringing interrupting that beautiful moment.

“I’m sorry I have to-”

“It’s okay,” you said.

“Hi Ragnar,” he said.

You watched Ivar for probably the hundred time and honestly, you could spent entire days looking at his gorgeous features.

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” he said and then he hung up.

“Any problem?” you asked.

“Yes, my mother is the hospital, more precisely she’s in a coma,” he said.

“I’m sorry Ivar,” you said.

“I gotta go,” he said.

“Yeah of course,” you said getting up.

Even that you tried to reason with Ivar that you could catch an Uber, he insisted in driving you home and you made a mental note that it was useless discussing with him.

You gave him a soft kiss before you entering your home and as soon that you closed the door you heard his car engine speeding up.

Message me if you want. You texted him genuinely concerned about him and his mother.

On that night you couldn’t find any sleep and you spent the entire night looking at your phone but Ivar didn’t send you one message. You were about to finally sleep when your phone started ringing. It was him.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“What’s your blood type?” he asked.

“AB why?” you asked.

“My mother needs a blood donation and you have the same blood type,” he said.

“Okay, I’m catching an uber. Message me with the hospital address,” you said hanging up.

You quickly took your PJ’s off and wore literally the first clothes you landed your eyes at before catching an Uber and going to the hospital to meet Ivar. What a good way to be introduced to his family, you thought to yourself.

“Here we go,” you said once you entered the hospital. Deep inside you were with a bad feeling. But you ignored your anxiety and made your way anyways.

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#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #vikings imagine #entertainer #mari writes

[bamiiib]

Ethereal | Jung Jaehyun

Masterlist

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

The taste of a new world just sitting on the tip of your tongue. He looks at you with a wanderlust gaze, and instantly you wanted nothing more than to drink that look in, and share it with him. A new life is waiting for you, but new conflict begins to sprout, all with a man who you respected so much, all to come crashing down.

Words: 5.4K

Category: Modern!AU, Angst, Fluff

Song Rec: Turning Page — Sleeping at Last

Warnings: Slight sexual content, Explicit language

A/N: about diddly darn dang time these two had a spicy scene, although i prefer not to write explicit smut, i hope y’all get the idea of whats going on *wink wink* plus i prefer for this “smut scene” to sound more romantic on behalf of Y/N and the emotions she feels through Jaehyun, a lil uwu moment for us all. anyway, sorry for the sudden disappearance man, school has been piling up and i got sick for a week so... i’m a bit behind on that lmao, but i hope you all enjoy this chapter! xoxo bambi (ps. sorry if the spacing seems funky, i’m tryna see something bc of the weird font going on w/ mobile tumblr.)

You drove off into the night; you followed the stars as the moonlit sky illuminated the empty streets. Down to wherever your wanderlust-filled hearts desired, and with his hand that rested in yours, it felt like you could conquer the world.

Nothing could come between the two of you, and for that, you felt at peace.

The windows rolled down, and the music humming against your ears, you rested your elbow against the car door, your chin falling into your palm.

You listened to the music, then the wind.

Everything sounded so perfect.

His voice that’d echo here and then, whispering sweet nothings to you, it felt harmonic.

The car had come to a stop in front of a hill. Jaehyun removed his seatbelt and leaned into you, taking in your lips in his, savoring his sweet taste.

Your hands that held onto his neck, pulling him closer enough for him to lean more than halfway towards you.

He kissed you as if it were the last thing left in the world, pulling you by your waist, tugging you enough as you moved from your seat into his, straddling his lap.

You felt him smile between each kiss. They lingered from your lips, trailing down to your neck, Jaehyun took in every piece of you.

Studying each part of your body.

His fingertips that grazed your skin, skimming over your body like one would to a book.

Each line of a beautiful word in a book filled with passion, pressed in a sweet, chaste kiss.

You moved to the back of the car, the music still playing in the background and the windows rolled back up, yet it all seemed like white noise.

Your clothes scattered on the floor, his skin pressed against yours, his hand that fit perfectly as your fingers intertwined with his. How his body seemed perfectly made to fit with yours.

A missing piece of the puzzle, found.

Each word he whispered in your ear as he rolled delicately into you, sweet like the milk and honey taste that lingered in his lips.

He took you in, touching you, reading you.

Taking everything in down to memory, he wanted nothing more than to recite everything about you.

To memorize each piece of you, till it burned in the back of his mind.

How he longed to read you, over, over, and over.

Jaehyun could never get enough of you, and you to him. Each touch pressed against your body, a new redefining phrase, your lips that whispered his name, how he wanted you to say nothing else except his name.

You were poetry, and Jaehyun wanted nothing more than to recite you with every breath he took, and every beat of his bold heart.

Every ounce of pain you felt in your life, pouring out and exchanged for love with his heart he gave so willingly to you.

You didn’t want to run.

You didn’t want to hide.

You wanted to be here, with him. 

Jaehyun.

That was all you could see, and that was all you ever wanted to remember.

To forget about the pain that turned to numbness, and to forget about everything bad in the world, because with Jaehyun—nothing could be so bad.

All you could see, and all you wanted to remember was this.

Him.

To Jaehyun’s beautiful eyes that’d shine just as bright as the stars above you as he watched your every movement. His smile, bright enough for the sun to envy, especially with those dimples of his.

The sweat that’d trickle down his chest, his body looked as if the moon kissed it itself. The windows of the car steaming up, hiding the two of you away from the world.

You looked at him as if he were this God, and how he’d look at you, as if you were his Goddess. Together, the two of you had ruled the world. A world where the only thing that ever existed were you two.

With the weight lifting away, and in your hands no longer remained a broken heart, but instead one that was all patched up. The scars were there, but as long as he was there, you were more than willing to ignore them.

You felt safe, and you felt secure. Your heart had soared, and with that, you both had stayed there. Lying in the back of the car with nothing more but a thin blanket covering your naked bodies and listened to the sweet music and the winds of the midnight air.

There, until sleep had lulled you into euphoric thoughts and beautiful dreams.

When your eyes opened, the music was off, and the birds had sung their morning tunes. The cicadas echoing loudly past the car windows as nature played its beautiful symphony.

You turned, and your arm had bumped into something. When you looked to see what it was, you were quick to smile, and felt Jaehyun’s arm wrapped around your waist lazily as he snored soundly.

You watched his chest heave up and down, the peace that took over his face, you brought a hand towards him, itching to touch him as you stared.

His skin tinted a gorgeous golden tan by the sunlight, bright enough for you to notice the tiny freckles that scattered his face. You moved your hand away, deciding it best not to touch and to let him sleep.

A hand quickly reached for your wrist before it could even fall. You gasped shortly, looking over at Jaehyun, and watched his eyes flutter open.

How in the light, the dark brown turned honey, you felt star-struck at the sight. Instantly, you wanted to drown in that sweet honey brown color of his eyes.

His thin lips curving to a smile and his dimples popping, Jaehyun pulled you close, resting his chin above your head after placing a short kiss against it.

“Good morning beautiful.” He said, voice husky and groggy from just waking up, and set something to ignite in you.

“Morning.” You whispered back, resting the hand he had let go on his bare chest, tracing short shapes onto it.

“Last night was… fun. First time doing it in a car y’know.” Your face instantly flushed at his words, taking back to what he meant, and that was when you realized the entire situation that unfolded before you.

Quickly, you shot up from where you rested, grabbing the blanket enough to cover yourself up with a sharp gasp breathing through your lips.

You looked around through the windows, relieved to see that the area still seemed just as abandoned as it did last night, and reached out for your phone that rested on the passenger’s seat.

“Shit. Shit, shit shit!” You muttered, raking your fingers through your tangled hair. Jaehyun furrowed his brows as he sat upright next to you, his lips pressed against your bare back and pressed tiny kisses onto it.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, but still found himself lost in the world you two had created, unlike you, who forced yourself back into reality, rather than the dream you deeply wished to still be in.

“It’s about to be 2, I-I gotta get home Jaehyun!” You explained, eyes wide and reached for your clothes that scattered in the backseat floor.

You listened to Jaehyun groan as you slipped into your undergarments, with him reaching for the straps of your bra and sliding them back down, kissing your back like he was earlier.

“I woke up just now though… five more minutes?” You turned around to face him, and he stared directly at you. You scoffed as you were met with those damn eyes of his, and that damn expression.

You shook your head and put on your shirt and climbed towards the passenger’s seat. “Don’t give me those fucking puppy dog eyes, I won’t fall for it!” You shouted stubbornly, but shrieked as a pair of hands snaked around your waist, pulling you back towards the back as he peppered you in kisses.

You couldn’t help the fit of laughter you fell in as you attempted to push Jaehyun away. He remained stubborn, and it was when he reached your lips, went from playful to passionate in a matter of seconds.

You melted into the kiss, at first what started as mischievous that turned lustful, you wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his hair.

His kisses traveled from your lips, to your collarbone, and when he found that spot that made you weak, you groaned and pushed him away.

“Come on, don’t do this! It’s not fair!” You whimpered, shaking your head as Jaehyun pressed a short kiss to your lips. “Fine.” He groaned, jutting out his lip, and you smiled gently. 

“You know what…” You mumbled, reaching back for your phone and seeing it was empty of notifications.

Your smile turned to a smirk, when you looked back at a curious Jaehyun, threw your phone to a place you’d worry about later.

“Fuck it, five more minutes won’t kill anyone.” With that, you pushed Jaehyun back down on the seats, and repeated last nights’ events.

The drive back was filled in comfortable silence. You and Jaehyun would sing along to whatever song would come up now and then, and would fall in a fit of laughter whenever someone messed up.

You even surprised him completely when a rap song came up, and you could complete every verse without falter, surprising yourself along the process.

With the sunlight bathing over your bodies, windows rolled back down and the wind rushing through your already-messy hair.

You took a deep breath in, staring at the vacant fields slowly turn to crowded buildings. You turned to face Jaehyun, immersed in driving, one hand resting peacefully onto your thigh.

“So…” You had spoken up, turning down the volume of the booming music. “Hm?” Jaehyun hummed in response. “How did you find that place, anyway?” You asked, looking at him as Jaehyun’s lips curved into a sweet smile.

“When I moved here, I didn’t really ‘fit in’ with most crowds, so I spent most of my time driving to wherever the fuck the wind took me and… I guess I found my way there.” He explained, watching a spark filled with adventure fill his eyes. It had set your adrenaline to pump all over again, wanting to taste that same adventure he ventured to.

“You really seem the reckless type, aren’t you?” You had asked with a smug grin, in which he could only respond with that exact expression.

“You’ll never get bored babe. I can assure you that.” He said just in time of a red light, turning to face you and flashed a quick wink. You scoffed in response, but smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

You got home, pressing a quick kiss to Jaehyun’s lips before parting ways. You entered the eerily quiet home, and everything was there right where you left it.

Your father sprawled on the couch, dozing off in his work uniform, one beer bottle placed on the floor, and snoring a fit.

Relief washed over you, slowly tiptoeing your way towards your room, whispering to yourself repeatedly, “Don’t wake up, don’t wake up, please don’t wake up.”

But not everything could go your way.

“Y/N? Where the hell have you been?! Do you have any idea how worried sick I was?!” Your father shot up from where he lied, shouting your ear off as you heaved a sigh and nodded your head, accepting the scoldings.

When that was done and over with, you had got just a slap on the wrist, walking back to your room, you made your way towards your mattress, and fell into its softness.

You shut your eyes, fingers fumbling with the silky sheets below you, thinking back to everything that happened. How light replaced darkness. A mess that was your heart fixed and tended to, all by one person.

One muse.

You smiled, as the memories flashed through your head. Each touch still lingering even after hours of it happening. You wanted to remember it all.

His lips that’d press against yours, soft and smooth, supple and sweet, you grew addicted from his candied lips.

Pulling him in a gentle embrace, breathing him in, and how he had always smelled like vintage bookstores and warm cafe’s.

His skin that felt so soft as your hands would roam every inch of his body. Jaehyun was perfect in your eyes, and you were perfect in his, no matter how hard you’d try to deny.

Every day spent with him felt like something pulled from a novel. Each page filled with newfound suspense, a new adventure through every chapter, falling deeper in love with him, you never wanted this story to end.

Days turned to weeks, then soon turning to months, each day spent with Jaehyun.

Finally, you were beginning to taste adulthood, no longer bearing the same mind the teenage you had carried, you were more mature. More aware.

Fear no longer drove your decisions, and darkness no longer took control of your heart. Instead, your days had filled with warmth and love, and that love had Jaehyun’s smile written into it.

Your relationship had grown stronger overtime, hanging out more often than what people would consider normal, but you didn’t care. The world wasn’t ever considered to be normal, anyway.

Your father was quick to find out about your relationship with him, and thankfully, he was quick to accept him into the family. Sure it was small, and broken, but Jaehyun didn’t care, and made himself home right away.

Everything filled with light, you remember that wash of relief, to see the shadows no longer chasing after you, begging you to come back into the dark.

Your memories filled with regret, hated, and fear, wiped away with joy, love, and courage.

You had felt anew, and everyone around you had noticed. You didn’t hide in a shell, and a newfound confidence was born into you. You took more risks, all with a wide grin and a contagious laugh.

Everything felt right with the world.

It was nearing midnight, and you were staring up at the blank ceiling, can’t seeming to rid your thoughts enough to sleep. You toss and turn, yet it all seemed pointless, so you reached for your phone and scrolled through your social media.

Curling your lips in a line, you groaned as you sat up, looking around the mess of your room, and an idea had sprout into your head. With a grin, you tossed yourself right out of bed, slipping into a thick coat to keep you warm from the harsh winter night.

Sneaking down the stairs where your father had fallen asleep on the couch—as per usual—you had noticed a piece of paper hanging from his outstretched hand.

Your brows furrowed, and your plans were quick to come at a stop and the sight.

  You walk towards your father, holding in your breath in fear of waking him up, despite knowing all too well what a heavy sleeper he was; you remained cautious.

Tiptoeing closer, you slipped the paper away from his hands, stepping away and stared at the colored sheet.

Your eyes and widened, and your heart had dropped, you read the words etched in thick, bold ink.

“A pink slip…? Dad, you got fired from your job?” You whispered, aware that he couldn’t hear your question, as if it were more to yourself as you stared at him in disbelief.

It left you confused, setting the paper down as you examined your father. He was a hardworking man. He always uses all of his blood, sweat, and tears to make sure he was doing his job.

A part of you didn’t want to believe this, knowing how much of a fighter your dad was. Surely they’d have a good reason for firing him… right?

You shook your head, raking your fingers through your hair and stumbled towards the kitchen to grab a drink of water to ease your troubled mind.

You opened the fridge, groaning at the sudden fluorescent light that had greeted you abruptly, it was when your heart had dropped.

Beer bottles scattered every inch of the fridge, not a single hint of any other liquid—or even food for that matter—found.

College had been piling up on you, most of your meals being spent over at Jaehyun’s, as Taeyong was always more than happy to cook for just the two of them. You hadn’t ever really eaten at home. Never eaten a single meal with your father ever since you graduated high school and entered college.

Your father was always so busy with work anyway, so you never saw him until he’d come home late at night, and fall into the same spot in the same couch like every other night.

You never really had the chance to make sure if your father was eating well or not.

Your chest felt heavy, and rather than sorrow, you had felt anger.

Betrayal.

All this time, you had thought your father was finally breaking out of his habit. That he would finally create a new man in himself, just as you had with your own self.

You remember the joy that spread throughout your heart in seeing your sober father act like the man he used to be before your mother had left.

But now… now it all seemed like it was nothing more but a facade.

A fake.

Acting.

That’s what it was.

Everything was a lie.

Your breath grew shaky, your teeth clenching tightly, you shut the fridge and walked back towards the front door. Taking the car keys in one single swoop from the coffee table, you glared at your father.

All this time, the man who you had respected the most… can barely respect himself.

Without a second thought, you walked right out the door.

Driving in the empty streets, the only sound filling your ears were the engine of your car running as you drove. Your mind still clouded in those thoughts, you parked in front of a familiar apartment complex, staring up at the tall building with a blank, deadpan expression.

You wanted something to numb this pain. To numb everything, and to take you away from the real world.

You watched the numbers rise as you stood in the elevator, shoving your cold hands in the pockets of your coat.

The door opened, and you listened to your heels click louder and louder the closer you got to that certain room. You arrived, and brought a hand up towards the door, yet it remained still.

You didn’t dare knock. Maybe you should turn back, try to forget everything that happened tonight. You were making a mistake, and you shouldn’t bring other people into something so personal to you.

But that feeling remained. That sense of want, filling your aching heart. The sense of need. To have all of this be numbed away, and for you to focus on it for another time.

You knocked on the door, and after a short moment, it swung open, and a half-awake Jaehyun greeted you. “Y/N? What are you doing here…?” He croaked, ruffling his messy hair. Your throat went dry and a bittersweet smile was drawn onto your lips.

“I just… wanted to see you.” The words had escaped your lips as if automatically, but when his eyes searched up and found yours, you were quick to avert his gaze.

You didn’t feel brave enough to look into them, because deep down, if you did, you knew everything would just come spilling out, and tell him everything that happened in such a short amount of time.

“O-Oh, well you should’ve texted me ahead of time babe, I would’ve stayed awake.” Jaehyun said as he smiled sweetly.

You felt guilty and continued to stare down at your shoes. “I-I know. Sorry.” You whispered. Jaehyun shook his head, taking a step towards you and pulled you in a warm embrace.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind unexpected visits if it’s from you.” He said, and as much as your heart wished to flutter, you had choked down on the butterflies that wished to roam.

“It’s cold out here, let’s get inside and I can make us something warm to drink, yeah?” He said, leading you inside as you nodded your head and laughed dryly.

He sat you down on the couch as you stared at the blank TV. The lights flickered on, and you could hear Jaehyun pour water into some mugs, then the sound of the microwave as he sorted through some boxes.

“Jasmine tea like the usual babe?” He asked, peeking his head towards you as you nodded at him. He smiled again and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Now that you think of it, you weren’t really lying when you said you wanted to see him. You’ve both been busy with your studies, you hardly had the time to see each other, but now it was winter break, and you wanted nothing more than to spend it with him.

Guess tonight was just a bad night to start because now—now you wanted to go home and curl up in the comfort of your warm bed.

You didn’t want to put all this pressure onto Jaehyun. It was none of his business to know, and you didn’t want to use him as some kind of toy you can use to distract yourself with. You weren’t like that, and you couldn’t dare allow yourself to use him like that.

“So…” You cleared your throat in attempts to distract your thoughts away from your home life.

“How’re your classes going?” You asked, watching Jaehyun walk towards you with two steaming mugs in hand. “Stressful, but hey, school is school. How about you? How’s business going for you?” He asked as he handed you a cup, in which you took graciously and took a long sip.

“It’s… well it’s okay. I suppose.” You said, your grip on your mug tightening, you stared at your dismorphed reflection through the liquid that sloshed in your cup.

It wasn’t something you were passionate about. Hell, it wasn’t even something you’d ever dream of doing, but you did it, because you believed that it’d help you and your father out from the hellhole place you both live in.

You wanted to create a better life for yourself, but for him especially.

To live happily without having to stress so much about work, just so you guys can continue to live where you live today. To think, all this time you had lived so selflessly, did every single thing for him, yet this is what he chose.

Nothing more but bitter liquor and endless sleep.

In another life maybe, you would’ve chosen something else.

Art.

You had thought back to that painting of Jaehyun from months ago, moments after confessing to him.

How even after months of being with him, he remained your muse. It was your little secret, and for the moment, you had no intentions of telling anyone, but you were happy to have him.

“You suppose? C’mon Y/N, where’s my spunky girl at? Usually you’d have something to say about it!” Jaehyun said as he brushed your shoulder with his. You smiled gently, shaking your head and took another sip before placing your mug down on the coffee table before you.

“How about you? Is the dream of becoming a ‘lawyer’ still there for you?” You asked with a grin, turning your body so that you were facing him.

It was with those words; you watched the smile that plastered Jaehyun’s lips, soon fall. He sighed, but before you could comment, his smile returned, only this time, it seemed more… empty.

Sad, maybe.

“Actually… I’m not sure what I want anymore.” He admitted, and your brows furrowed, scooting closer to him as your leg had rested just slightly on top of his.

  “What do you mean?” You asked cautiously, and with that, Jaehyun had let out a short laugh, one in which you were all too aware, was fake.

“Actually… the entire reason I came here in the first place was to go to college and study just that. I never asked to come here, nor did I ever ask to become a lawyer. It was just something that was forced onto me.” He explained, and you listened with a pained heart.

“Don‘t get me wrong! I’m glad I came here. If I didn’t, then I never would’ve met you! And who knows what kind of person I’d be now if that happened…” You smiled sadly at his words as Jaehyun turned to look at you, then bringing a hand to grasp onto yours, a gentle grip tugging onto your palm.

“If anything… you taught me something.” He started, staring down at your hands as you felt his thumb graze against the back of your hand delicately.

“You taught me to fight. To follow what my heart tells me, no matter how scared I can be. If I listen hard enough, maybe… just maybe—things can go my way.” He said, head tilting up, and he met your eyes that had been watching him carefully all this time.

You smiled faintly, and you hadn’t realized the tears that were threatening to spill until your vision became blurry with tears. Even without telling him a single thing, it was like he knew what you were feeling.

Every emotion that courses through him and pours onto you. It might as well feel like you two were the same person.

Two people, born into unfortunate families, who have to follow unfortunate destinies written out for them. All to please people who probably don’t even deserve it.

You loved your father dearly, but if this was the destiny he had written for himself, you could only do so much before you break in his place.

Even if this was the path you choose, even if you break for him—deep down, you knew he’d break right after.

You’d do anything for your father; to prove your mother wrong with those harsh words she threw at him when you were young, but for once, as you listened to Jaehyun’s words, you wanted to do something for yourself.

“No, Jaehyun… I think you’ve got it all wrong.” You said faintly, listening to Jaehyun’s confused hum as you brought your free hand up to cup his cheek.

“I think it was you who taught me strength.” You said, and tears had streamed down your cheeks. Jaehyun’s eyes widened at the sight, quick to wipe them away before they could dare crash onto the floor below.

He smiled and kissed your forehead delicately.

“I’m dropping out.” You heard him say, and your eyes shot wide open, and backed yourself away from him in surprise. “You’re… what? Why?” You asked in a moment of shock. Jaehyun sighed, nodding his head at your reaction and turned himself around to face the front.

“I don’t want to be my parents’ puppet anymore. I’m an adult now, and I should write out the destiny that I want. I-I know this might sound crazy, but I can do this. We, can do this! Our own little adventure! Run away from all of our troubles! What do you say, Y/N?” Your breath hitched at his words, meeting up his eyes that sparked with that familiar determination and enthusiasm that had been dull for a sparing second.

Every inch of your consciousness would say no. You’d still force yourself into this destiny that you had put yourself in, to better a man who can’t better himself.

You wanted to help your father; you didn’t want him to be alone, but how can you do all of that, when he can’t even help himself?

He knows all that you do for him, begs you to follow your passions. He’s the first light in your life, but now that light was dimming.

Despite him wanting you to follow your dreams, you still think about him. To better him, because if you better him, in a way—you’ll better yourself.

Why was that?

Even when fears get the best of you, you still think about others, rather than yourself. You sighed, and in your mind, apologized to your father, yet thanking him.

He only wants what is best for you, only wants you to be yourself. The only thing holding you back from all of it, is you. You looked at Jaehyun, your smile widening, you nodded.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” With that, he fell in a fit of short giggles and pressed tiny kisses all over your face.

You laughed, attempting to push him away enough to catch your breath, and that was when the reality of it all had hit you.

“W-Wait! So… how are we going to do this? What even is the first step?” You asked, and Jaehyun’s smile was quick to fall, pushing himself away from you and walked in circles, lost in thought.

You watched, head tilted in curiosity as you set your cup aside.

“I… well, I was thinking, actually…” Jaehyun said, and you hummed quietly, nodding your head when his eyes looked to meet up with yours.

“You know, Taeyong and I are best friends and all, but I’ve always wanted to live on my own. Make my own life with no help from the moment I moved to this place, and…” His voice wandered, and you stood up, reaching for Jaehyun’s hands and squeezed them gently in reassurance.

His mouth opened, yet no words came out. Lost in thought, his eyes wandering to everywhere else but you, your lips curled in a line, stubborn and curious.

You reached towards Jaehyun’s face with one hand, turning his face enough so he had no other choice but to look at you.

Jaehyun breathed out a dry, nervous laugh, nodding his head, you found the anxiety that burned deep in those eyes of his.

“I’ve been saving up, and I found this place. I-It’s not the best—in fact it’s quite shitty but—” Jaehyun rambled, but you knew well with what he was leading towards, and a bright grin was plastered onto your lips.

“Babe!” You shouted in attempts to snap him back, in which Jaehyun could only reply with another nervous chuckle.

“I want you to move in with me! A place, for the two of us! That way, we can see each other more without classes—or even life getting in the way! A place… so we can have somewhere to call our own little world, just for the two of us. What do you say?” Your eyes had welled up in tears at the thought.

Never in a million years did you ever even dream of ever moving to a place of your own so early in life, at least, not until you graduated college first, especially moving in with the person who showed you to love, and who showed you to not fear over everything.

You nodded your head once, twice, endlessly, and with a tiny shriek, wrapped your arms around Jaehyun and pulled him in a tight embrace, one in which he reciprocated as he twirled you around on the spot, and kissed your lips sweetly.

“I’m taking that as a yes?” He said, and you choked out a laugh and nodded your head.

“Yes. A million times, yes! Anywhere with you, I’ll be there.” You stated happily and kissed his lips once more.

A new life was being offered to you, and although you had many things to leave behind, this is what you wanted more than the entire world.

A fresh start.

A new you.

A world, in which you can lose yourself with no worries, because in that world, there’s Jaehyun, and that was all you needed to be okay. Not perfect, but just okay, because that was perfect for you. 

“I like having you over and all Y/N, but can you guys keep the screaming to a minimum? It’s 2 in the fucking morning!” Taeyong had abruptly shouted down the hallway, as your eyes widened when you turned to Jaehyun, and quickly, the two of you had fallen in a fit of laughter.

Yeah, not perfect in the eyes of many, but to you, it was more than that.

This was definitely the life you wanted. Until the end.

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[toontowncrazy]

WFRR Fanfic: Genie AU

Summary: Every few centuries or so, Jessica grants the wishes of whoever finds her lamp before being imprisoned in it once again. Then a dung collector rabbit found her lamp, who strangely can't think of anything to wish for.

Long One-Shot

When one had an eternity, years weren't so much different to minutes.

No clocks. No hourglasses. No sun to dictate the passage of time.

Jessica allowed herself to get lost in painstakingly carved stars. The precised asters expanded geometrically across the circular room in a never-ending web of golden filigree.

"Room" was what one might call it at first glance. A room she could never leave. It mattered not for her. For she goes, grants and returns back to her lamp.

Her whole world jostled and Jessica jumped in surprise. She had no idea where her lamp was right now. Her last master was by the river when she had granted his last wish. Then as her lamp was designed, she was pulled back into the lamp and it had jettisoned away.

She gripped the silk cushions for support when the whole room felt lifted. Her heart thudded, wondering what master would she served next -her only company outside the lamp. There were sounds of hands rubbing against copper and the whole room quavered at the friction.

Jessica closed her eyes as mist surrounded her, once more summoned to grant three wishes.

Heat caressed her body as soon as her room gave way. An expanse greeted her, obscured by her own magical mist.

"Greetings, Master. I am Jessica, your genie of the lamp," she duly recited. "Here to grant you three wishes. However-"

She paused. There was a prolonged croaking that she was certain wasn't a sound of any bird or beast.

Jessica looked around, finally able to see her surroundings with the fading of the mist.

She was in something that looked like a barren land. The sun beat harshly against the cracked earth. Whatever plant life that survived the heat was parched and struggling.

The still croaking sound was coming out of the slack jaw of an anthropomorph rabbit. His brown fur was caked with dust and dried mud, leaving him the color of earthy rust.

Her nose tried not to wrinkle at the sack he had over his shoulder. It emitted the strong stench of cow dung. Even his clothes looked crusty from the accumulation of his labor.

Jessica's brows only rose in reaction. He definitely needed some wishing. And washing.

"However," she monotonously continued, reciting from etched experience of eternity. "There are rules placed upon my powers. You cannot wished for someone's death. You cannot wished for someone to fall in love with anyone. You cannot wish for more wishes."

She folded her arms with a raise of a perfectly shaped brow.

"You cannot especially wish the genie to a marriage or any sexual or romantic situation." She glared at him pointedly. "Suggested or otherwise."

The rabbit continued to make that prolonged croaking noise at the base of his throat.

It was probably because her lower half is smoke trailing to the spout of her lamp. Or maybe because...

Jessica tried not to roll her eyes. She liked looking voluptuous in her bedlah -a fitted bra and a fitted belt richly decorated with her own taste of crystals and beaded fringe. However, couldn't a man take a little bit more responsibility for his own actions?

She bent down to his 3-foot height and tapped his mouth close.

That seemed to have snapped him out of shock. "I can have 3 wishes?" he gasped.

"Yes," she patiently said.

He ran his hand his dusty tuft of hair and rabbit ears. "Jeepers!" he exclaimed. "What should I even wish for?"

Jessica's eyes swept over his scraggly, dustball self and his equally dirt-trodden mule. "Anything?" A bath, maybe? she thought.

He scratched his head, shifting the sack of feces over his shoulder.

"Well, I got rhythm. I got beat. What more could I ask for?"

Jessica could only stare.

He then started talking to his mule who seemed to be braying out in frustration. "Jeepers, Benny! Calm down. What's gotten into ya?"

Jessica started to mentally list the things he could wish for -just to get it over with- like maybe another job that doesn't involve manure.

"What about you? What would you wish for?"

Her eyes focused on the rabbit again, jolted. "What would I wish for?" she echoed.

953 years and she never thought about asking herself what she had always asked of others.

Her body burned with fervor. She wished to see the world. She wished to never be trapped inside a tiny space again. She wished-

She shook her head, a stretched smile hiding a bitter pill. "I wish to be free. But that won't apply to you-"

"Okay. I wish you to be free!"

"Wait-" But too late. Her shackle bangles on her wrists shone fiery gold in a blast of light. She could feel the misty wisp of her lower half shaped and form into limbs as the shackles burst, disappearing in a flash of light.

She blinked, stunned. Below her fitted belt, her new legs could be seen through loose, harem pants. Her feet peeked out, firmly pressed against the cracked earth.

"See ya!" the rabbit chirped, leading his exasperated mule away.

Jessica still stood there, wondering if she was in deep, dreaming slumber.

But the earth began to scorch her soles and she immediately zapped sandals on her feet.

Her eyes looked down on her legs, still not believing what had happened. Using her magic, she transformed her pants into a translucent, full skirt draped with equally rich array of beads and crystals. She twirled around, her leg momentarily exposed by its thigh-high slit.

Satisfied, Jessica focused on the magic floating around her hands. Her body thrummed with all the possibilities could offer.

She disappeared in a golden blaze.

XOXOXOXOX

Who knew I would get my freedom from a fool?

Jessica stood at the mountains of Himalayas, breathing in the cold, unforgiving winds.

He could've wished for anything! He could've wished for riches! Or at least a bath!

Jessica internally rolled her eyes, running her hand on the tiger's back in Bengal.

The fool wasted the one time he could be happy.

Jessica sighed at the background litany in her mind. She surfaced from the ocean again after exploring the Great Barrier Reef.

He could've had two wishes granted first if he really wanted me to be free. But no, he's so thoughtless-

Jessica finally set down the scroll about aliens that she's been trying to read in the restricted Vatican library.

-he forgot himself.

Fine, she told her mind. I'll help him back.

XOXOXOXOX

Inside a shack, the sun's first rays crept through the entrance. Roger snored. His whiskers twitched. Dried drool left a trail from the corner of his mouth. His left arm and right leg was draped haphazardly over the hammock.

The sun's beam finally reached his closed lids. He sighed at the warmth, burrowing deeper in his blanket. But the brightness of the daylight seeped through his eyelids, no longer to be ignored.

"Ah, Mr. Sun," he slurred with sleep. "Five more minutes?"

"I doubt Mr. Sun would stop doing what it always does for the last 4.6 billion years."

His eyes snapped open. He abruptly sat up and looked around so fast, he tumbled out of his hammock.

"What-Where-Who-?" he yelped on the earthen floor.

"The sun. In your house. It's Jessica."

His eyes landed on a woman watching him by his hammock. He clutched his twisted blanket to himself.

"What're you doing in my home?!"

"Your door's unlocked," she gestured at the cabin's entrance.

He tried to scoot back. "I don't have anything precious." His eyes landed on a lamp in one corner of his shack. "You're-"

She smirked. "So you do remember me."

The rabbit stood up, rubbing his eyes. From sleep or surprise, she couldn't say. "How can I help you?" he asked.

Her smirk became wider. She bent down and tipped his chin up with a delicate finger. "How can I help you?"

"Huh?"

She turned away, looking around his hut. "You've set me free, Mr. Rabbit. Surely, there must be a way for me to pay you back."

"It's fine, really."

Jessica raised a brow at the dirty-brown rabbit. His fur was as mud-dried as the last time she saw him. He gave her a sheepish grin. "Would you like something to eat?"

Before she could answer, the rabbit went out. A donkey brayed.

"Coming, Benny!" He grabbed a basket. "I'll just gather some grub."

She watch him scurry about with his morning chores. Sometimes tripping. Sometimes spilling. But always bouncing back. In a short while, he got a stew boiling in the fireplace. She watched him scoop contents into a bowl. The soup looked reasonably thick but its vegetables were meager. Beside him was another empty bowl.

"Genies have no need to eat," she spoke.

His ears bobbed as he nodded in understanding. She wondered if he saw through her intention.

She settled down comfortably on the mat. "So why live so far away, Mr. Rabbit?"

He took a sip from his bowl. "P-p-please call me Roger. I'm going to plant a forest!"

Jessica blinked. She looked around just to make sure they're on the same page. They were in a middle of a semi-arid land. Of baked red earth where the heat made the very air simmered.

She turned back to Roger again. "You're going to turn this desert... into a forest?" she clarified.

"Yup!" he brightly nodded. "That's why I collect dung! What're you doing?" he asked when Jessica stood up.

There was a smirk in her lips. Power glowed and coursed through her hands. Jessica walked towards the cracked plains. She now knew how to help Roger. Jessica pointed a hand to the wasteland. All she needs to do was grow him a forest.

"JESSICA, NO!"

She almost doubled over at the sudden weight that attached itself on her outstretched arm. Jessica smoothly straightened up again to see Roger wrapped around her elbow.

"P-p-p-please, Jessica! Don't do it! Magic ain't gonna to be the answer for this!"

Her mouth hanged open. Collecting herself, she shook her arm free from Roger.

"Then how can I help you?" she asked. "Everyone has a wish."

He gave her a rag to dust her arm off, looking apologetic. "I'm good! You don't need to grant my wish. You're free!" he reassured.

She looked at him and those earnest eyes that spoke a frustrating naivety to her. "That's just it. You freed me." She placed a hand on her chest. "I feel a debt that I have to pay."

He opened his mouth to protest. But she stopped him. "I must," she said with finality.

"I..." Roger paused. Then he spoke, sheepish. "If I wish for a cup of water, would you feel better?"

Jessica snapped her fingers and a glass of water appeared in his hands. Roger drank from it and looked for her approval. But she only shook her head.

He looked away, his ears lowering. "I'm sorry, Jessica. I don't have anything that grand to wish for."

"Not even a forest?" she asked, the very thing that she could see he desired the most. Her finger swirled with magic. Just say the word...

"No." His tone was akin to a door firmly closed.

Her brows slightly knit together -a sole sign of her rising exasperation. Roger stepped back when she sighed.

"Alright." She calmly swept her hair off her shoulders. "Then I'm staying here." Jessica leveled him with a look that sealed their fate. "Until you wish for something."

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. "What... What?!... I... You..." He glanced back at his mud hut before his shoulders drooped with a sigh. "My home's not much but guests are welcome."

Jessica approached his home, her hands glowing with magic. "Leave that to me."

"No!" He chased after her. "No magicking my hut!"

XOXOXOXOX

The town by the desert bustled with dust and activity. People clamored in the market as children played. Beasts of burden lazily stood by with flicking tails. The sun was less harsh with the buildings giving shade with their shadows. But the smell of warm winds and fried street food intermingled with the bright splashes of rugs and pottery.

"Oh. My. Goddess!" Clarabelle Cow breathed. She clutched the hem of her top, trying not to stare with the others.

The dung collector rabbit led his donkey. He moved stiffly. His mouth was a thin, discomfited line. People stopped what they were doing as soon as his cart approached. For in its passenger's seat, was a woman that they have never seen before. Her robes were loose and mute. But her face radiated a pristine kind of beauty found in royal courts.

The rabbit stopped by the line of oxen carts like he would usually do. He took his spade and burlap sack. The mystery woman, however, left his cart and proceeded for the stalls.

Clarabelle straightened up when she approached her tapestry booth. "Hello! Can I help you?" she asked.

The woman smiled. "Sorry. Just looking." She glanced at the rabbit who was now collecting feces. "I'm just here to accompany my friend."

Clarabelle bit her lip, her mind feverish with questions. More. More. Tell me more.

"It's been a while since I last saw him," she sighed, fingering an intricate rug. "How is he around town?"

Clarabelle beamed. She leaned on her booth, already in the zone at the spotlight. "Oh girl, you have no idea. That dung collector just comes and goes. Says he's going to plant trees at that wasteland. Mad, isn't he? Farmers have given up on those lands for years and he thinks that he can plant something there!"

She talked on and on. For if there's one thing Clarabelle loved more than listening to news (gossip), it was telling them.

XOXOXOXOX

The ride back to Roger's home was as long as he had informed her. But at least she was getting an idea about his daily motions.

"So where do you take the excrement, Roger?" she asked.

He hopped down from the cart. "Follow me!" he said, grabbing a sack of cow flops and a shovel-axe.

"This wasn't a desert before," Roger remarked. His ears curled over his head, creating a shade. Jessica absentmindedly tugged the scarf on her head closer.

"There would be droughts every now and then. But plants and trees always manages to grow back."

Magic kept her body cool, her genie form had no need for sweat. But even she could tell just by looking how parched the air was. Steam practically came out of the cracks in the ground.

"But that was more than 10 years ago. This is the longest drought this place ever has!" Roger exclaimed. "It didn't help that the farmers never let the land rest. Their crops sucked the earth dry!" He gestured with his shovel axe. "And don't get me started with those ranchers. They just let their cattle eat everything in sight without letting the grass grow back!"

There were struggling saplings scattered across the area. Roger headed for an empty spot and plunged the axe end of his shovel.

"Planting is hard enough to do with all the slopes around. Now all the soil falls down and gets hard without any roots to intervene!" Roger stabbed the ground repeatedly. "Which makes it just worse because the water supply wells become more shallow and no one's doing anything but go away and use things up and the rest are now paying it for it!"

His axe accidentally hit stone. That jolted the rabbit out of his rant. He blinked, mouth pressed shut, finally realizing that he had been mouthing off.

"Sorry," he mumbled. His eyes trained on the ground as he flipped his tool and used the shovel part to widen the pit. "I'm just frustrated that people think there's nothing to be done."

"Don't be." She stooped down, peering at the hole he was digging. "So what have you been doing?" she asked, deciding that Roger would be better at focusing on things he wanted done.

He knelt down and dug the loose earth with his hands. "Dig a hole, mix the soil with the dung. Then plant." Roger opened the sack beside him. Jessica tried not to wrinkle her nose. "The manure isn't just fat for the sapling, it keeps the earth moist."

"This is going to take a while, is it?"

"Yup!" There was something confident in his voice. "But it'll be worth it."

Jessica remembered how townspeople couldn't decide if he was crazy or a fool. Why toil that long when he could just have a better life somewhere else?

She straightened up, her hands glittering with magic. "How can I help?"

Roger responded by giving her the shovel-axe. "No magic." he pointedly replied. "Just good ol', honest labor."

Jessica looked down on the tool in her hands, momentarily at loss.

"I'm used to digging with my hands." His rabbit ears waved in emphasis. "It's okay if you don't wanna. You don't really need ta help me."

She looked up to him, feeling her pride prickle. Maybe Roger didn't intend the effect. But she did ask and Jessica always granted wishes.

XOXOXOXOX

Jessica had always been graceful... until now.

Too used to willing things into reality with just a zap of magic, she discovered she lacked the trained coordination on hitting the earth.

Red-faced but determined to master such a mortal thing, Jessica focused on solidly axing the earth as hard as Roger had done before. For someone who cracked jokes in the cart ride, she was glad that he wasn't making fun of her.

"Want some?" he asked, offering her his flask. Jessica shook her head.

"A genie doesn't thirst."

She got the feeling she was slowing his routine. But Roger was patient. "You're doing better than my first time!" he cheered while swiftly mixing the loose soil with manure.

The sun was setting when Roger decided to stop. They returned back to the hut. Only to see a covered wagon and a coyote's figure.

"Wiley!"

Wiley waved. Roger rushed to his side.

"Jessica, this is Wiley, my neighbor!" he gestured Wiley to her. "Wiley, Jessica!"

Jessica shook his hand. "A pleasure."

"Do you need stool samples again, Wiley?" Roger asked.

"I'll leave you two boys to your talk," she murmured, walking towards the hut.

Wiley waited for Jessica to disappear before turning to Roger. "So who is she really?"

"Uhh..." Roger's eyes flickered to the side. "A friend who's just visiting?" he offered.

His yellow eyes looked wry. "You live in the middle of nowhere, Roger," he pointed out.

"Well, I do have another life before I came to live here," Roger replied.

Wiley studied him before looking away.

"Just making sure. Word in the street was, you met her in a faraway land, rescued her during a world war and got married. Then she cheated on you with a rich, old man whom you murdered. But eventually, you were framed for it. Yet you left. To give yourself space from everything that happened. Then she followed you here."

Roger looked like he was suddenly introduced to advanced calculus.

"Clarabelle," Wiley explained.

A light switched on in Roger's eyes. "Ah," he nodded in understanding.

Wiley cleared his throat. "And yes, I'm going to need stool samples of those oxen."

After biding Wiley goodbye with his stash of samples, Roger approached his cabin with a sigh. "Finally. Things have calmed down- what the?!"

He stopped by the entrance, looking at the smooth, wooden walls and floor of what used to be earthen ground and decrepit interior.

"Jessica! I thought I told you not to magic my house," he exclaimed at the genie's innocent smile.

"I... didn't exactly transform your hut into something else." She shrugged her bare shoulders, now free from the loose robe. "It simply went through a speeded, natural process."

Roger pressed his lips together, wondering if she was going to wheedle her way through every boundary he would set.

"Now that the cabin's all polished and clean," she thrust her hand to Roger's direction and water blasted out in full force.

He yelped as he was thrown backwards. Sputtering, he tried to stand up. Only to get blasted back by a barrage of bubbles and foam. Jessica hummed, blasting him with water again.

Roger spat out soap and water, fur dripping wet. He caught himself just in time when hot air roared in his ears.

By the time Jessica was done, Roger stood shakily in a daze.

"I didn't know you're white," she said in surprised.

Roger tapped the side of his head, trying to get water out of his ears. "I don't know what's the issue with humans and that kind of thing." He jumped on one foot, tapping his temple again. "Us rabbits may be found everywhere, but we're just one race."

"No, I mean your fur. It's actually white."

Roger looked down on himself. "I sure know I ain't purple. I could never stay clean in this desert though. With the dust and the dirt and the heat and the wind." He scratched his temple. "I can wear robes to protect myself but I really don't mind."

"I can still fix that," Jessica said, lifting her hands again.

"Nope!" He ducked as fast as he could. It was probably why grime didn't seem to stick on her. "No magic!"

This was going to be some getting used to for the both of them.

XOXOXOXOX

As noble as Roger's cause was, Jessica couldn't forget her own.

"Do you have a wish tonight?" she asked after the day was done. After Roger had lain down on his hammock. He had tried to build her a bed. But after a swollen thumb and a what could only be called a badly-nailed-together planks, Jessica said she had never slept in a hammock before.

Laying in her own hammock, she glanced at Roger whose hammock was beside hers.

"None that I really wanted," Roger replied, looking up to the cabin's ceiling. He closed his eyes. "Sleep well, Jessica."

Jessica smiled. "Genies have no need for sleep. But-"

"Slumbering sure felt nice, doesn't it?" Roger asked in the dark.

She smiled. For some reason, she was certain Roger was also grinning.

XOXOXOXOX

If Roger was being truthful, he felt partly to blame for holding Jessica back. When she had said she wanted to be free, the longing in her voice was painful. She hadn't seem to be aware of it. But Roger certainly heard.

So after work, Roger decided to show her around town. It was a good thing Jessica gave him a surprise shower. The town barely recognized him. But at least he looked more presentable. He showed her the winding markets. The streets where the well-to-do live. Even the community well. Roger tried not to think of its lowering water level.

"Well, what do you think?" he asked as they walked back to the town square.

Jessica glanced at the cramped shanties. "I think the people are all crammed into this town."

Roger nodded. "I know. They're actually homeless." He shrugged, grimacing. "But where else can they live?"

There were almost to the cart when a burly guy bumped into Roger.

"Shitstain," the guy muttered, looking down at him.

Roger didn't miss a beat, putting on a zany grin. "That's because you don't wipe."

Jessica's eyes widened. But Roger kept walking so she followed him.

The man stopped. Turned around. His eyes widened, finally catching on what Roger meant. He stalked after him.

"Hey-" He suddenly howled in disgust, stepping on cow manure that wasn't there before.

Jessica turned away from the one-legged dance he was now doing and climbed aboard the cart. She stared pointedly at Roger who continued to hum.

"What?" he asked at her "he-could've-pummeled-you-dead" look. "It's how I cope."

She raised a brow. "By having a big mouth?"

Roger laughed and urged Benny forward, "And maybe a poopoo pocket."

XOXOXOXOX

Jessica couldn't help but count the many chances Roger could've wished it.

When Roger was lugging a barrel of water for the plants, Roger could've just wished it.

When Roger could have had a better equipment for planting and transport, Roger could've just wished it.

When the town thought he was crazy for planting in the desert, Roger could've just wished it.

But no. He carried that tank all the way to the saplings. He bought another shovel-axe. He continued on his way.

"Why do you always choose the hard way?" she one day asked.

He didn't even look up to the sapling he was tending. "Because it has to be earned."

Jessica pressed her lips together. Who on earth passes the chance for instant gratification?

Yet there was something satisfying in having planted seed. To see them sprout with the deadly desert surrounding. A small but significant defiance.

"I didn't know rabbits could climb trees," she poked at him as she watched him clamber up a trunk.

"The trick," he yelled, his ears covering over his eyes, "is not to look down."

He climbed higher and higher; until he got into the tender, young branches. "The cuttings from here can make instant saplings," he explained to her down below. "If I'm lucky, I can find their fruits and plant them," he gestured at the nearly skeletal tree he was on, "But it's not always the case."

As if to prove his point, the branch gave.

"Roger!"

Before she could think, she ran as he fell down screaming.

Roger didn't know what happened. One minute, he was clutching his cuttings. The next, he was falling.

"Oof!" Something caught him and Roger looked up to see Jessica's brilliant green eyes.

His heart drummed from the excitement. Jessica looked surprised and relieved.

"You didn't use your magic," he noticed.

She looked down at him in her arms. "I... I didn't," she said with a new layer of shocked.

"No one was here to catch me before," he said. Roger shifted, suddenly conscious that he was making her robe dirty. "You can put me down now."

She did and Roger turned back to the tree.

"I'm sorry about that, I'll have to water you more often," he promised, patting their trunks. Roger held the cuttings with care. "Don't worry, I'll take care of them."

Jessica couldn't help but smile. She had traveled the world in search of new experiences that the lamp had kept from her. But being with Roger might be a whole new experience on its own.

XOXOXOXOX

When it became clear to Roger that Jessica was there to stay, he knew he had to make some changes.

First, he had to plant more vegetables. He would also have to buy more things in the cabin. Probably had to repair some things in the cabin itself.

But Jessica was already way ahead of him.

"Where did you get that?"he asked when they were back in town, a basket full of food in one hand.

"Bought it," she replied. "Although I might've cheated a little." She did the swirly finger movement that she would do when granting wishes.

Roger shrugged, feeling a bit disappointed at himself for not providing better. "Everyone needs help in getting started."

"You're not mad?"

"It's either this or I'll find you zapping a farm in my backyard."

Jessica put a hand over her mirth. "You think you know me?" she asked, a smirk hinting in her words. Maybe working with her hands had been opening up some things she hadn't known about herself.

Roger stood up on his cart. "I'd like to think so," he said with a playful grin. "You think you know me?"

"I'd like to think so," she said back, a challenge dangling in her words.

In the following days, Roger had to admit. She was good at borrowing and bartering. Primarily through her charm. Every day that they would go to town, he would see her mingling in the marketplace. Roger had the feeling she was following her own code that wasn't exactly for the genies. He heard that Clarabelle always wanted a certain kind of scarf, and wouldn't you know it, Jessica coincidentally have a bolt of its fabric that Clarabelle could make out of her own hands.

Their cabin (Roger wondered when did he start thinking it as theirs), slowly began to fill with food and wares. His barrel of water became two and now comes with a spigot. After a lot of back and forth, Roger finally agreed to let others repair their home and a better outhouse.

"This way, you can focus on planting trees," Jessica said as Roger watched the men hammer away. She stood behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "After all, everyone needs a little help."

He nodded, relieved that he was able to tuck away his belongings just in case. Roger looked up to see her smiling down at him.

His shoulders were suddenly hyper-aware of the gentle touch of her palms. He wasn't used to sudden changes and his friend was bringing it practically everyday.

It wasn't long before she caught the eye of the richest man in town.

XOXOXOXOX

Clarabelle had never been reminded of an exquisite vase and an earthen jar together than the two of them.

As the town gossip, her eyes never missed a thing. She'd seen the playful banter. She'd seen the dried mud rabbit imitate a zombie that had dug out of his grave as she gave the most tinkling laughter. Roger literally froze in hearing it, making him look like a mud statue. She'd seen Jessica towel him wet after work while he protested. There was an amused smirk in her lips but the smile in her eyes told Clarabelle a different story.

This friend of his that was simply visiting strangely had been staying for weeks. If he hadn't told anyone, they would've assumed he suddenly got a wife out of nowhere. But she was a friend, not a wife. Hence to why Lord Acme had taken interest.

Acme never missed a day Roger and Jessica would go to town. Roger became more subdued, putting down his head and working while Acme whisked her away to the rich part of town. By the time Roger was finished, Jessica would be back and laden with costly gifts.

Even at the distance from her stall, Clarabelle could see his forced smile as he helped her to the cart.

XOXOXOXOX

Jessica had always found silence to be peaceful. But Roger's silence was a bit unsettling. After all those times that he had chattered away for the both of them.

"Do you have a wish tonight?" she asked as they lay down in their respective hammocks. The question was becoming more of a habit than an inquiry.

"None that I could think of," he replied as he usually did.

This time, it was punctuated with a sigh.

"Jessica..." There was hesitation in his voice, something akin to preparing oneself. "You don't have to stay here."

She turned her head. Roger began to gesture with his hands, lost as he began to ramble.

"I mean, if I finally figured out what my real wish would be, I'll just go to ya. You're better off living with Acme. Genies are more used to luxury and in here, I can't give you much." He felt his face heat at what his words could be interpreted to. "As a friend. I can't give you much as a friend. I chose this life and there are times I wished I was doing something else for a living by the time I met you so that you'll be better off with me." He slapped a hand over his eyes. That doesn't sound so strange. "I mean you'll be better off with me. As friends."

Roger was certain Jessica could hear his heartbeat from her own hammock. The silence was too deafening as she just lay there.

He got confused when she sat up. Then terrified when she knelt down beside him, her face close to his.

"Roger," she said quietly in the darkness, "do you have a wish tonight?"

"None that I could think of," he managed to say over the lump in his throat. He swallowed, at the mercy of those watchful green eyes. "Do you have a wish tonight?"

Her slim fingers gripped the edge of his hammock. "Only if it's the same as yours."

His breath hitched when she lay her palm softly over his heart. The beats traveled through her fingerprints, over her arm. She sat on his hammock, cupping his cheek. Ever since she had been freed, she had been following her own choices. Her own whims. Her own wants getting more defined for the past weeks. This night, it was crystal clear this special kind of want burns.

"Your wish..." she thoughtfully murmured, looking at those vulnerable eyes, his emotions laid bare. Her hair draped like a waterfall as she leaned closer. "It's not a wish if it's true already."

Roger welcomed her as she closed the gap between them.

XOXOXOXOX

Twenty years had passed. Mighty acacias spread throughout the once dusty plains. With the vast forest giving shade, the climate changed. It rained more often with water vapor precipitating over the coolness the forest gives. The trees held back the soil from eroding, allowing the once-dead river to trickle with rainwater and slowly, it's course widened. Dry wells soon resounded with splashes of buckets and the town's water well rose several levels. Snakes and other hungry wild animals that had been considered pests, had left the town; preferring to have the the forest as their new home.

With their success in planting and farming, the other farmers began to listen.

"I'd never thought it was possible. But you made it, buddy," Wile E. Coyote said. He and Roger hanged back, letting the people mingle after Roger gave them lessons in his farming methods.

Roger rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess so." He brightened up. "I couldn't have done it without Jessica's help though."

"I must say, I know there had been a forest here before but I never thought it might be magical."

Roger froze at the word "magical". Jessica kept her word on never magicking trees and she did make sure she was being discreet. But still...

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Wile shrugged. "Perhaps I should live by the forest too. You don't seem to age."

Roger blinked. Wile smiled at him, his fur speckled with white. The laugh lines around his face etched deeper than he had noticed before. He looked around. The townspeople he had known for more than 20 years were suddenly cast in a new light. The skin sagged with fur dulling with white. Wrinkles that Roger was now becoming more painfully aware. And was Porky using a cane?

He looked down on himself. He still felt the same. Twenty years, and he still felt his same, old self; that didn't feel like twenty years had passed at all.

XOXOXOXOX

"Jessica!"

Jessica jolted, turning around to see Roger had returned home.

"Hello darling," she greeted. But Roger still looked worried.

"Have you done something to me?" he asked, spreading his arms.

Jessica tried not to smile. He would need to be clearer than that because she had certainly "done" him several ways. However, his troubled look made her humor paused.

"All my friends are getting old but I'm not! Jessica, what did you do!?" he asked, bewildered at the fact of his friends dying all around him; until he was the only one remaining.

"I... might've frozen your youth," she let out.

"Why didn't you ask first? Un-immortal me back!" he exclaimed.

Her eyes widened in hurt, her mouth tightening. "Why? You've been immortal before."

Roger stiffened. "What do you mean?" he carefully asked.

Jessica got up and opened one of the shelves. She carefully unrolled a lamp unlike her own. "You'd think I'd never found this while cleaning all these years?" She placed the lamp between them, it's top handle curved curiously like bunny ears. "When were you going to tell me you've been a genie before?"

Roger gaped at the familiar sight. Slowly, he cupped it; staring at its dull glow.

"I didn't want to look back," he finally said. "A genie must always grant wishes."

He looked up to her, realizing that she made him immortal for the same reason he wanted to be un-immortal-ed.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you," he sighed. "I hadn't imagined what it would be like for you if I'm gone."

She knelt down and kissed his cheek. "How? Why?" Even after all these years, there was a lot of things she didn't know of her husband.

"It's a long story."

"I got an eternity," was her dry reply.

Roger grinned at her banter. He sighed, twirling the lamp in his hands. "Two hundred years ago, something peculiar occurred when I was still inside this." He held up the lamp. "Everything was still. Then everything began to bounce." He shook the lamp. "I really didn't know what was happening but it was definitely rubbing my lamp."

He sat down as Jessica listened. "I was summoned. But when I appeared, there was no one there." Roger laughed. "I was actually excited. I liked giving a good show."

"So what did you do?" Jessica asked.

"Well, at first I was confused because the genie code didn't say anything about that kind situation. Then I actually heard it, the voice of my new master. It was the forest itself. Or what was left of it." His rabbit ears drooped. "I saw telltale signs that humans used to live here. But they left because of the drought and famine. I zapped the land with greenery and the lamp pulled me back to my room."

"Just like what I would've done," she said, wondering where she had been during those times.

Roger nodded. "I wondered what would happen next. Who ever heard of being contractually bonded to a forest? During my stay in the lamp, I began to hear sounds of civilization back." He played with the spout of the rabbit-eared lamp. "During the next fifty years, my lamp must've been hidden by the soil. But I heard people living, hunting, going on with their lives."

Jessica could only relate to his tone of envy.

"Then I began to hear chaos. Screams. Fire. Like there was a war. A very long war." His eyes were wide. "I couldn't help. I think I heard the word conquering. But there was just silence after."

He gave an empty laugh. "There was rain, I think, and the dirt grains running against my lamp must've have summoned me back." His tone became hollow. "When I appeared, there was nothing again."

Jessica rubbed his back and Roger just exhaled. "Whatever tribes were fighting, they burned down the forest to kill each other. Trees have a high pain tolerance but still, I can hear the pain of the surviving trees."

He pushed out his hands in a familiar genie granting gesture. "So I granted the forest's second wish: to live." Roger gave a rare, ironic laugh. "The next fifty years, the people came back to the forest. Wiser. Unfortunately, greedier."

Jessica watched his thumbs rub against the dull brass. "They cut down the trees for their plains and overpopulated the grasslands with their bulls." He ran his finger over his hair and rabbit ears. "I understand they're trying to have a good life. But they took and took and took without giving back in return."

"So the last wish was..." Jessica lingered but it was already dawning on her.

"It was windy when I had been summoned once again for the last wish," Roger said. "The rough, dead grass must've rubbed over the exposed part of my lamp." He clutched both of his rabbit ears, remembering what happened. "The land was so much worse than before. I barely recognized it."

His fingers worried the lamp's handle. "The cries from what used to be the forest, was so faint. The land wasn't just dry. It was barren. But I knew the wish was the same."

Jessica sat back, surprised. "So you've been granting the forest's last wish for this past twenty years."

"I knew that if I just zapped the forest back, it'll just be gone again." He looked down on the ground, his ears lowering. "I had to make its last wish count."

"So you've made yourself mortal." Even when she said it outloud, she still couldn't grasp why.

"The mortals are the forest's hope. They need to learn that the forest needs them as much as they need it." Roger looked down. "It was a choice of giving the forest a wish that wouldn't last or a wish that would stay granted forever."

"But sacrificing your immortality? The Genie Code would've let you have the first option."

He shook his head. "That's not what the forest really wanted and I knew it. I thought for a long time before throwing away my immortality." Roger waved his arms around, remembering the surge of energy that would wrap around his hands. "To communicate to the mortals well, I have to be one. How can I understand why they keep doing such dangerous things if I have infinite cosmic powers?"

"What about death?" she pointed out.

Roger gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Perhaps I'm really the town crazy. But life inside a lamp is no life at all for me." He rubbed his arms. "It was hard in the first few years, alone and powerless. Then I met Wile. He helped me back on my feet."

A grin tugged his lips. "He always thought it was odd of me to live like a hermit in the middle of nowhere. But then again, the town considers him an eccentric for his scientific studies."

"So that's why..." Jessica said quietly. All along, there were hints here and there that Roger was a genie. She suddenly have a flash of insight.

"Roger," she said, holding his arm. "You did it. You granted the forest's last wish. The mortals are now learning how to take care of the forest." She smiled at him. "You're free."

He only give her a troubled smile. "Am I really? Mortals can be so unpredictable."

"They learned their lessons. They're learning your ways. Just say the word. I'll grant your wish and we can be free. Together."

He stilled. Jessica pushed forward.

"I can wish you back into a free genie. Don't you think you need a little reprieve?"

Roger fell silent and looked out of the window. "Mortals are so simple and so complicated."

"Do you know we have a mirror?" Jessica dryly asked.

He laughed. The mortals may have to prove themselves first. But for now...

Roger took her hand and kissed it. "Just a little longer, Jessica."

THE END.

Author's Note: This story has been sitting in my backburner for far too long. Have a good Sunday, guys. Read more fanfics here.

#who framed roger rabbit #roger rabbit #jessica rabbit #fanfic #disney #au #disney au #fanfic au #genie au

[ddaengsopemin]

All That Was Lost

1 - The Beginning

Pairing: Reader x Taehyung x Namjoon x Jimin

Genre: Vampire!AU (Angst, Violence & blood mention)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This is just setting up the backstories, and the characters. I apologize if it is a little slow. This chapter is mostly dealing with the relationship between OC, Taehyung, and Jimin. Joonie will have a bigger role in future chapters. I have more planned for it if you all want me to continue! Let me know! (:

You giggle as you skip down the long corridor of the skyscraper you have called home for the past decade of your life; more appropriately, your afterlife. You moved to Seoul after you, unfortunately, bumped into Kim Taehyung your senior year in college. Your feet lightly tapped along the glossy floors as your nails glided along the cemented wall. Any more force applied by your delicate fingers would cause lines along the walls with chips of cement on the floor in their path. That would surely piss his majesty off... You mused with a sinister smile.

Living with the famous Taehyung did have its upsides. He was a wealthy CEO of a gaming company that he had built from the ground up. He had spent tons of years pining over his company, working himself to the bone until he was in his mid 100s when it finally took off. Now at the ripe age of 190, he doesn’t have to lift a finger aside from signing papers that his many secretaries, in awfully short skirts who were annoying always trying to impress him you might add, whisk in and out of his office all day. He owned the entire building you lived in, you even had a whole floor to yourself. From the lowest floor in the basement to the penthouse suite was all his.

The lobby to the 25th floor was all office space. Filled with workers thinking up the next big game, kids pulled off the streets to test out those games in comfortable plush gaming chairs that consumed their senses, casting them into the atmosphere of whatever world Taehyung wanted them to be in. Taehyung’s office was in the middle of all the chaos on the 15th floor. When you questioned him on why he didn’t have his office on a more luxurious floor, “Because I need to be in the middle of it all.” He answered. After that, he turned to his computer as if that would suffice. You questioned him about the whos, whats, whys, and hows for another 30 minutes before he lost his patience and kicked you out of his office. Hollering about how he can’t get any work done with you there. That was the first time you realized exactly how much strength you had acquired and nearly tore the door off the hinges. It took Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend and partner in crime, almost two hours to get you to calm down and stop breaking things. The 26th floor and up were for tenants. Some of you were there due to special, unbreakable connections, and some wealthy CEOs that liked the convenience of living downtown in the middle of everything. You wondered if they knew about you, and the rest of the clan. If they did know, they hid it rather well.

You took the elevator down to the 15th floor, two rights and a left, you pass by three offices. Yoongi’s, Jungkook and Jin’s, and Jimin’s, AKA Taehyung’s arms and legs. Jungkook and Jin were brothers, and both had their degrees in computer graphics. It creeped you out how two brothers could be so close, and spend all their time together. They were the newest members of the team, so you didn’t know much about them. From what you did know, they were absolute children. Roughhousing all day and night, their office had every wall space possible filled with posters and figures from their favorite animes and games. Taehyung had plucked them out of a gaming center where they were spinning their tires trying to get things done for a company that was only running itself into the ground. Yoongi was found in a club downtown, desperately trying to sell his tracks that he had made in his small apartment that he could barely afford. Taehyung purchased one off of him out of pity but ended up returning to the man to offer him a job as the music coordinator and producer after listening to the first track. Yoongi has been here ever since, remaining completely loyal to Taehyung. He was rather quiet and standoff-ish. You had tried to make conversation with him at the last staff party, only to be met with grunts of ‘yes’ and ‘no’. You left him alone in the dark corner once you got bored and knew you were getting nowhere fast. Jimin has been at Taehyung’s side ever since they were kids, so it is no surprise that he earned the title of Vice President and the second biggest office to go along with that. Jimin was fun to play with, he was extremely flirty and knew how to press all the right buttons. It was like a game to you to get him all riled up only to leave him high and dry, but you knew he didn’t mind. After all, he did live on the floor above yours and was able to get his revenge in more than one way. You poked your head into Jimin’s office to offer him a hello, and a wriggle of your eyebrows. You leaned over just enough through the doorway to offer him a little peek into your tight-fitting black dress, his head popped up from the piles of paperwork in front of him to offer you a wicked smile. As soon as he began to push back from his desk you closed his door and flitted down the hallway earning a loud “Hey!” From the other side of his door. You laughed loudly as you made your way to Taehyung’s office. You knocked lightly and opened the door. Finding him exactly where you knew you would, sitting in front of his computer screen, glasses hanging halfway down his nose, 30 pages deep into the proposal for his next game.

There was no flaw on Taehyung. His golden brown hair hung lightly over his forehead, his red turtleneck and tight fitting slacks made every muscle in his body stand out as if he were flexing at all times. Even you were amazed at how he could look so good, and you cursed yourself for thinking that. He acted as if you were the gum stuck to the bottom of his Gucci shoes, but that didn’t change the fact that he was breathtaking.

You sauntered into his office and looked over his shoulder at what he was reading. You rolled your eyes when he hadn’t even made the attempt you acknowledge your presence. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t noticed you come in, or if he were doing it on purpose. You pulled his chair away from the desk and plopped yourself into his lap, crossing your legs over the armrest and leaning your back against his forearm. He took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes as you carded your hand through his hair, moving to graze your long nails along his jawline when you were done.

“Spare a little bit of time for me?” You said, looking up at him as innocently as you could.

“No.” He said curtly, fire forming in his irises.

“Well then,” you said as you swung your legs over to place them on the floor between his feet. Making a spectacle of the way your dress perfectly formed to your curves as you rolled yourself off of his lap. “You don’t have to be such a jerk. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in a week or anything. I guess I’ll just go play with Jimin.” You said as you made your way to the door of his office.

“Yeah, yeah.” He dismissed. Returning to his place in front of his computer screen.

You rolled your eyes and huffed as you slammed the door behind you. You had no idea why Taehyung had chosen to turn you all those years ago. He was an asshole then, and he is an asshole now. But for some reason, you were drawn to him as if there were bungee chords tied around your wrists to his. Every time you tried to run, they would snap you back into place at his side. You don’t remember much about that night, or your life before it. Bits and pieces flash along your sight when you’re in your room late at night, with your knees pulled to your chest. Crying yourself to sleep had become a nightly thing. During the day, you portrayed yourself to be strong and confident in your new life, but at night you felt like the world was crashing down around you. You tried so hard to remember your parents, your friends, your classes, daily life, anything! But no matter how hard you tried you were only greeted with the night you met Taehyung, and scenes of your life that made no sense. You were the only woman Taehyung had ever turned, and the question as to why remains a mystery even to Jimin.

The events of that night rolled through your conscious. You were sitting at a bar by yourself, no, were you by yourself? Did you have any friends there with you? You pound your palms on your head as if that would help you remember who you were with that night. The next thing you remember was firm hands wrapped around your center, dragging you out of the back exit of the club. You were thrown against a wall, your head cracking against the bricks. You winced as you remembered the feeling blood trickling down your forehead and into your eyes.

“Do you know how good you smell?” The man in front of you, who you now know as Taehyung, inhaled deeply next to the shell of your ear. Slamming his hands into the wall behind you, trapping you between his body and the wall. You whimpered in response and that is when everything went black.

You woke up, what felt like, months later dirty and on the ground. Taehyung had left you for dead in some deserted alleyway far away from the place you had originally called home. Your head was pounding and all the sounds and lights were overwhelming your senses. You could hear people from 5 blocks away laughing and going about their daily lives. Your nose could pick up even the slightest of smells, but overall you were thirsty. It felt like there was a fire burning in your throat and lungs, but you couldn’t do anything to quench it.

“What did he do to me?!” You screeched, but no one heard you. You felt alone and lost. Jimin found you days later, on the verge of death, curled up on the ground shivering and crying. Your fingernails were filled with the dirt that you had been clawing at, digging a deep hole in the ground in the shape of your hand.

“Goddamnit. What has he done?” Jimin mumbled as he picked you up, and whisked you to the place you now call home. Now that you think about it, Jimin has been the only one to show you any kindness in this hell hole.

You leaned up against his closed door, holding your head in your hands. Taking deep breaths in through your nose, out through your mouth. Attempting to stop the oncoming anxiety attack. It was the click of a door that had you standing faster than any human eye could pick up, and dragged you away from your helpless thoughts. You shot your sights in the direction of the sound, only to see Jimin coming from his office and turning to walk down the hall.

You were at his side in the blink of an eye and turned on your heel to stop him in his tracks. With your hands behind your back, you bent over to catch his gaze taking his attention off the floor and onto you.

“Just the person I was looking for.” You grinned, your fangs on full display for him to see. “Would you like to join me in taking a trip to the basement?”

Jimin looked at you and mused before checking his watch. “Yeah, I guess it is time for some lunch. After you.” He held out his hand, gesturing for you to link your arm with his as you made your way down to the basement.

The trip to the third floor of the basement was filled with you and Jimin laughing and picking on each other. You listened to the muffled comments of employees walking down the hallway, giggling to each other about how cute Jimin was. How jealous they were of you because you got to spend so much time with him and Taehyung. You giggled and rolled your eyes, and Jimin mimicked your sentiment. 

“You know, I really do not see how they find you so cute.” You teased as you elbowed Jimin’s side. 

“Listen, kid, I’m 50 years older than you and if you think I am going to stand to be talked down to like this you’ve got Another. Thing. Coming.” Jimin giggled as he poked your nose as if to emphasize each word.

You stuck your tongue out at him as you entered the elevator and rapidly pressed the button so the doors would close before Jimin could enter. Unfortunately for you, he was much faster and was standing behind you before you could get the doors closed. He laughed as he reached over your shoulder to press the button of the appropriate floor.

Your mouth started watering, and that all too familiar flame started spreading through your chest at the scent that you could already feel consuming your being. Jimin placed a hand on your lower back to keep you grounded. While you had been a vampire for a decade already, that is still considered a newborn in their books. It would be awhile before you could learn to fully control yourself when you are thirsty.

The elevator chimed signaling your arrival, and you latched onto Jimin’s hand. Already feeling the tingling in your legs to bolt down the hallway and latch onto the first unfortunate being to cross your path. If Jimin hadn’t been immortal, you would have broken every bone in his hand by now.

As you both walked hand in hand down the corridors that lead to a wide and grand ballroom, your sensitive ears picked up on the hushed voices coming from the middle of the room. You could feel their emotions; fear, excitement, but overall anxiety.

While Taehyung basked in the rush that was hunting and killing his prey as they screamed for him to let them go; You, Jimin, and Yoongi were the exact opposite. The three of you never dared to get in Taehyung’s way or object to his style, preferring to set up this space for those willing to part with the precious liquid flowing through their veins. They were paid handsomely as long as they performed their duties as expected, and didn’t die of course. If an accident like that were to happen, their families were paid a sum of money and given an excuse as to why their loved one was sent to their early grave.

All of your guests in the ballroom were bickering amongst themselves at who they thought would be lucky enough to be chosen by the infamous vampires. Their eyes practically bugged out of their heads, and their mouths hung open at the sight of yours and Jimin’s arrival. While Jimin could sense your anxiety, and you knew he did by the way he lightly rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, all they saw was how regal you both looked.

You took your seats at the top of the stairs, overlooking the line of people below. You took in each and every one of their features, going from person to person. Men, women, all varying in age. As you honed in on one, the emotions and scents of the others almost disappeared. It was when your attention turned to the next person in line that the blood ran cold in your veins, and you froze still as marble when your eyes came across one man you seemed to recognize. You didn’t know where, you didn’t know how, but every fiber in your being told you; you were connected to his man. Your hairs stood on edge as you leaned forward in your seat to get a better look at him.

Jimin looked towards you, clasping a firm grip on your shoulder. “Hey, Y/N, are you okay? What is wrong?” You brushed his hand off your shoulder as you began to stand. “I know him...” You whispered as you took a trembling step towards him.

“Y/N! No!” Jimin yelled, but it was too late. You bolted into the line of prospective donors, slamming the man into the wall with your forearm on his neck. He clawed at your arm as his eyes danced trying to come to terms with what was happening.

“Who are you?!” You defeningly yelled. The rest of the group ran for the doors to make their escape before the same thing could happen to them, but you paid them no attention as you could only focus on the man before you.

“Y/N..” The man croaked, his eyes wide with the realization of who you were. “Y/N...It’s me....”

“If I knew who you were, I wouldn’t be asking you now would I?” You snarled.

Jimin sighed as he stood up making his way towards you. Prying you from the man before you strangled him to death.

“It’s me, it’s me,” You scoffed, mimicking the man now crumpled on the ground. “Tell me who you are, now. Before I drain every drop of blood from your body.” You demanded with a finger pointed towards his face as Jimin rubbed your shoulders, knowing full and well by now how to calm you down.

“I’m Namjoon, Y/N, Namjoon. Your fiance.”

You stood frozen and shocked. “No, no. I don’t believe you. Stop lying to me!” You sobbed as you turned into Jimin’s open arms.

“Please.” Namjoon pleaded as he got to his feet. “Please Y/N. Believe me. You have no idea how long and how hard I have been searching for you.” He took a step toward you with outstretched arms. Retracting immediately when Jimin shook his head at him.

“Tell me, then. Tell me what you know about me. Tell me about my past. ” You said. Still snuggled into the protective barrier that was Jimin. “Make me believe that you know me.”

“I can do that.” Namjoon nodded.

#bts fic #bts angst #namjoon angst #jimin angst #taehyung angst #v angst #rap monster angst #vampire!au #bts vampire au #bts scenarios #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys

[seriouscuttervoice]

Apotheosis

Chapter 2 | I

Fandom: Mystic Messenger/Death Note (Crossover)

Characters: Rem, V, OCs (V’s family), Jumin Han

Links: AO3 | FF | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Notes: This chapter is long, long, long overdue, initially because of writer's block and then because of the stages of grief that came with realizing V route was going to (and did) redact a lot of my fic into firm AU territory. I've decided that instead of changing my plans for this fic to align with the information provided by V route, I'm going to continue with what I originally had planned for the fic. I'm not complaining about having additional canon information-- it's fantastic-- but I fear my motivation to finish this will dwindle into nothing if I have to go off my original course too much. I started writing this chapter before V route and finished it after, and it's probably the first time I make a major divergence from canon (other than, you know, having V be the reincarnation of a shinigami from an entirely different series) on purpose. I really hope you enjoy this and I apologize for taking so long to get it out!

It's not her first week or even her first month at school when another student, not by his actions or anything he's said but by his mere presence, strikes Rem breathless. She's seen him before, in church, in class, but she never realized until now that she isn't the only person who spends their recesses outside alone. As if pushed away by some invisible force filling the air, he stands at the edge of the school courtyard; perhaps it's the same force that compelled Rem to wander off here in the first place. The tall and empty walls that should have diminished him with their size are inferior to the look in his eyes, ice and fire all at once, passionate scrutiny, and with a start this young boy reminds Rem not of her own downfall but of Misa's, the man she loved who used love like a weapon and turned a god to ash. It's too much memory for a boy so young, and when he turns that gaze on Rem in this soft, child's body and asks, "Why do you look at me that way?," Rem has spent enough time as a human to know that he is art.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asks, uncertain if she's disturbed him. He's a little shorter than Jihyun is, but it doesn't feel that way. The boy's eyes survey her up and down, appraising her with eyebrows arched, lips twisted for a moment in thought, before he shrugs and turns his face away.

"Do as you like," he tells her, and for a moment the command stupefies her, desperately searching in her mind for what exactly it is that she'd like to do so she can comply. Her eyes find her shoes, black and freshly shined the night before by Yunseo. The other boy wears similar ones of a slightly different style, his pointed at the front where Jihyun's are square, standard footwear for the compulsory school uniform. Rem hesitates, then raises her head again to look at his face.

"What's your name?" she asks, and the question feels too personal, a few characters on a page that could be the difference between life and death, a secret to be closely guarded yet is so easily taken away.

"You don't know it?" the boy questions, an overly critical crease in his forehead for someone his age. "We've been in the same class for two months and twelve days, we attend the same church, and we've visited each other's houses before, but you don't know my name?"

He speaks like he spends his free time reading the dictionary, a pastime Rem can't deny she's participated in herself before out of boredom, selective of his words in a way that's unnatural for his stature. She stares wide-eyed at him for his harshness. Human names and even faces are difficult, slipping in and out of her mind without a trace no matter how hard she tries, and she's tempted to ask how he can remember her name before she realizes he's not given any particular indication that he does.

"I suppose I've forgotten," she mumbles, allowing her language to slip back into the stiff formalness she was accustomed to as a shinigami to match the other's speech. She's surprised to find how unforced it feels, realizing for the first time that her quietness around most humans might be due to the amount of effort it takes to vocalize as they expect Jihyun to.

The other blinks, scowling but apparently unable to look away from her, and after a moment of contemplative silence he slowly utters, "My name is Jumin Han."

Jumin Han.

It's a name she's heard before, the Han part certainly is, in her parents' dinner conversations and dripping with bitter spite from Yunseo's lips. His family doesn't live far from where Jihyun's does, a large house with black panels that's more modern than most others in the neighbourhood, though the inside is more traditional than one might expect.

She repeats the name several times in her head, Jumin Han, Jumin Han, the words more precious than the other boy could realize, and somehow she knows that this time she won't forget.

"The conventional thing to do, at this point," the other says, startling Rem out of her thoughts, "would be to introduce yourself, but there's no need as I already know who you are."

She nods, her lips feeling stuck together, and though the boy is stern she finds herself taking his word for it easily, something about him exuding honesty and trustworthiness even while he rebukes her with his words. She feels she's somehow unearthed something, trespassed into a space she wasn't meant to be and stuck gold, like the earrings she wore as a shinigami, like the pink paint she took from the human world. He doesn't seem bothered by her staring, though he doesn't meet her eyes, and for a moment Rem longs to stay like this, silently drinking in the details of this boy's world, a world that appears to be all his own, separate from the oversaturation and noise she's come to associate with the human realm. He doesn't interrupt her, completely still and with perfect posture, and she knows then that she was wrong in her initial assessment of him. This boy is better than Light Yagami, greater than Light Yagami, and if the gods fell for him it would only be natural, his effortless honesty making him worthy of it, with no need for deception or delicate maneuvering to make it happen. He emanates magnetism, seems almost composed of it, and it's a quality she thinks can't be taken from him, a fundamental of his being that makes him meant to walk this earth.

She tears her eyes away; too much, too much, and when she does he takes a step toward her and she finds herself breathless once more.

"Spend recess with me," he says, his right foot barely a few centimetres from hers, eyes full of intensity. She nods again, refusing to look away this time, and he remains for just a moment, holding her there in his world, before he moves back.

And then he smiles.

Muscles in his face relax, eyebrows lose their arch, his lips curve just barely upward, and he looks at her with a carefreeness she wouldn't have thought him capable of as the warm light of morning seems to envelop her from his face.

"Good," he says, motioning to a bench by one of the paths in the courtyard. "Should we sit? I think we'll like each other, Jihyun."

Rem knows he's right, and it's a strange feeling, unaccustomed to attention or her presence being wanted, and together they walk away from the towering wall.

Jumin becomes a fixture in her life with ease, occupying a place she didn't know existed and fitting perfectly into it. The two of them are silent more often than not, but it's a different sort of silence than that she shares with her family, a silence that's whole instead of hollow, a silence that's full like a sponge with water, and while she can't tell if she herself contributes anything to that completeness, she knows Jumin does with his overwhelming presence. They don't speak because there's no need for words, and when the words do come they are easy, unedited in their clunkiness, too big for either of them and their children's bodies. She's half-tempted to tell him her history, to ask if he was a god once too, but otherworldly as he seems Rem knows there's something irrevocably human about him, the very thing that drew the likes of herself and Gelus to this world in the first place.

Rem's searches for gods who'd become humans are mostly fruitless, references to human descent almost invariably linked to Christianity. Typing in Gelus's name does nothing either, the other apparently uninterested in making himself known to other former shinigami, if he's even here at all. It's possible that if he too became human then he's in a completely different time period than Rem is, or a different timeline altogether. And there's also a chance he didn't become a human in the first place.

It's much easier to find references to the opposite, the concept of humans that become gods, deification or apotheosis as the process is called. Humans appear to be fascinated by the idea, and Rem supposes she can understand what the allure of power and eternity could be to people who never had them within their grasp. She too might find it enthralling, were the power she had not the power of death, and were the eternity she had not dependent on it. Her parents never ask what she's searching for, so she never has to hide it, though she likely could if she wanted to because Jihyun apparently inherited her talent for going unnoticed, though not through any ability to be literally invisible. He slips in an out of places almost without a sound, and those just realizing he's entered the room remark that he surprises them with his quiet. She doesn't broach the subjects she searches for with Jumin, either, though he'd undoubtedly be interested in the concept of descent from godhood, but he's too sharp and too perceptive for Rem to fully trust he wouldn't put the entire picture together.

He starts inviting her to his house, and though Jihyun is allowed to invite over anyone he wants, he's also allowed to go any place he wishes, and Rem prefers to be at Jumin's. The other boy's house is full of invisible people; kitchen staff and housekeepers that Rem rarely sees, going about their obligations to maintain the orderliness of the place. Jumin doesn't think twice about it, and soon neither does Rem, the novelty of being seen both unnerving and difficult not to enjoy. Jumin listens to her, and Rem knows that if she ever asked him to make her a promise he wouldn't break it, possessing a degree of respect for her that's totally foreign to her life.

Jumin's father is rarely home, though his mother always is, and Jumin makes a point to correct Jihyun when he refers to her as such, firmly informing her that the woman living in his house is not his mother. Rem gives him a questioning look, less aware of human customs than she expected, and Jumin says he'll explain it another time.

Jumin's insistence that he and Jihyun be alone most of the time is no discomfort to her, used to adults taking little interest in her life. Even when their parents get together for dinner, Jumin prefers that the two of them take off on their own as soon as the meal is finished, circling the perimeter of his garden or sitting on the rug in his bedroom.

"I thought you were looking forward to having dinner together with your father," Rem comments, purposely not phrasing it as a question so the other doesn't feel obliged to respond. Jumin leans back against the footboard of his bed, so large it could probably swallow him.

"I was," he says, tracing circles on his kneecap. Even outside of school, Jumin dresses as if in uniform. Jihyun wears a t-shirt and jeans, though Rem isn't sure whether or not they're expensive. "But his girlfriend is with him, and I don't like her."

"Oh," Rem says, and suddenly everything makes sense. She wondered why the woman who appeared to be Mr. Han's wife was so young, but time spent with Kyosuke Higuchi should've told her that this was normal for businessmen. Jumin's father seems so kind, though, she wouldn't have thought to connect the two even in spite of them having the same occupation.

"Mm," Jumin acknowledges. She watches him for a moment, wondering if he wants to elaborate, but he says nothing more so she doesn't press him. Jumin's bedroom is nice, a bit oversized but so is Jihyun's. Everything from the wooden floors to the bed to the armchairs on either side of the table in the middle of the room are white, the only exception provided by a fish tank that sits on top of the table, the fish swimming inside reflecting the sunlight with vibrant colours.

It's quiet for a long time, and Rem wonders for a moment why Jumin sits on the floor when his room has armchairs and a window seat, and she's trying to decide if that's too impolite to ask when she feels a weight press against her arm, eyes widening as she realizes Jumin has shifted to lean on her, just slightly, his dark hair falling on Jihyun's shoulder. The touch is unexpected, accustomed to her only contact being Yunseo's hand firmly grasping Jihyun's when crossing the street or in a crowded place.

"Jumin?"

Jumin stiffens, and Rem regrets it for a moment as he raises his head ever so slightly, then seems to change his mind and leans on Jihyun again.

"You know," he says softly. Jihyun waits. "I've never had a friend before."

This isn't surprising. Jumin is young, has hardly had enough time in the world for it to be confusing that he hasn't made friends before, but the word puts Rem on alert.

"Friend?" she echoes, and Jumin shifts off of her shoulder to engage her in a serious look.

"That's what we are, right?" he asks, and though his voice is steely the question is sincere, searching her face with his silver eyes for answers. "Friends?"

Rem returns his eye contact and for once wonders if Jumin feels her presence as strongly as she feels his, because he averts his gaze slightly to look at her nose instead of her eyes. It's a word Rem hadn't considered for them before. Friends… the weight with which Jumin spoke the word makes sense now, though Jumin himself wouldn't be able to understand it. He's a young boy with the body of a delicate child, only a few short years into school. Rem is ancient, lived for centuries without ever having a single friend, the closest perhaps being Gelus, but even then it was she who was fascinated by him, the other shinigami sharing no similar interest in Rem or anyone other than the human girl he watched. That, of course, was natural. And Misa could hardly be called a friend, care for her as much as Rem did.

But him… Jumin Han. He seeks out Jihyun's presence, remembers things about him that Jihyun doesn't remember about himself, hangs onto his every word even when they're clumsily put together and say nothing of importance. He's unselfish, doesn't only care for Jihyun to the extent that Jihyun can be useful to him, whether as a willing sacrifice or a soundboard. Jumin is considerate of Rem, gives her special attention that even her parents don't give her. His eyes are the only place that Rem holds any significance—that Rem ever held any significance.

"Yes," she breathes, and Jumin watches her, unwavering. "I suppose we are."

Jumin slowly nods, then shifts again, replacing his head against her shoulder once more. Silence overtakes the air, the distant sound of parents' voices downstairs drifting into the room from behind the closed door.

"Let's stay this way," Jumin murmurs, and Rem can hear in his voice that this time it's not a command.

It's a plea.

"We will," she says.

She hopes he can hear in Jihyun's voice that it's a vow.

#Death Note #Mystic Messenger #Rem #V #Jihyun Kim #Jumin Han #Crossover #Fanfiction #My writing #Apotheosis

[ahumanfemale]

Professional Distance - I

So AU it’s an alternate galaxy.

Summary:  Dean Winchester is an editor known for his critical eye and keen insight, finding himself a famed name in the world of romance novels. No matter the material that crosses his desk Dean has always been able to maintain his professional distance. Until Donna Hanscum. As if his crush on the effervescent blonde weren't incapacitating enough, now she's introduced a love interest to her latest novel that seems suspiciously like... him.

Author:  (A)HumanFemale

Pairing:  Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

I

Dean Winchester had been an editor for going on twelve years, since graduating college with his degree in literature. A quick study with a critical eye, he’d come with a slew of recommendations from professors and the assurance he’d have a bestseller in his first year. He’d gone into the field hoping to land a position in fantasy or science fiction - dragons and space battles. You want to know where he’d ended up instead?

Romance.

Sweet inspirational love stories and depraved erotica all came across his desk, demanding his careful eye and effortless marketing. It turned out that selling romances was a lot easier when the man selling it was quick with a smile and easy on the eyes. So they told him, anyway. In just over a decade he’d climbed from untested newbie to a big name - someone in demand, who got to be picky about what he took on. There were a few people who had balked at a man editing chick lit but he brushed them off. Oddly enough, he enjoyed it. Romance wasn’t something he’d normally read and that gave him the ability to distance himself enough from the work to be critical of it. To find errors and plot holes that needed to be addressed. The racier stuff didn’t bother him - he was able to maintain his professional distance. It didn’t hurt that all the authors to take the chair across from his desk tended to look and sound like his mother.

Until Donna Hanscum.

That wasn’t the name on her book covers - no, for that she’d chosen something so obviously fake it made him cringe - but it was the one he’d written in his calendar for that afternoon at three o’clock. Donna reminded him exactly nothing of his mother. Where Mary Winchester was sharp lines and wry grins, Donna was all curves and boisterous laughter. She had an accent that constantly made his mouth twitch up in a smile that stayed with him for the rest of the day. She also wrote things that made him loosen his tie and clear his throat when he edited late at night, in bed with his laptop and a beer.

Donna wrote paranormal romance. More specifically, she wrote about a voluptuous blonde whose job was to hunt down and kill the paranormal. Usually with a male partner who was different in every installment, all of whom found themselves enamored with her by the end of the book. After a long hunt and a bloody kill she took her fill of the guy, typically on the hood of her muscle car before driving off into the sunset with a wink and a smile. Unless, of course, they died.

Her work fit the market trend toward this kind of thing perfectly and she wrote it well, keeping her heroine just this side of relatable and worthy of cheering on. Readers ate it up and she was writing full time now, having quit her job as a small town sheriff back in Minnesota.

Which was why they had this meeting set up, discussing the sixth installment of her series. Her first ten chapters were due today and she’d insisted on bringing them in on paper, as she was running behind and hadn’t had a chance to transcribe them to a word document. Fine with him. He thought better when he could scribble notes and refer back to them later.

He checked his clock.

3:12.

“I’m here!” she crowed as though reading his mind, throwing open the door to his office so that the potted plant next to it shook and threatened to topple over. “Sorry! So sorry, Dean, I’m here.”

“I can see that,” he smirked, waiting for her to orient herself as she shut the door and smoothed her wavy hair away from her face. “Make it into the city okay?”

“Oh, yah, always,” she said, facing him with a bright smile as she sashayed her way to him. He did his best to avoid following the sway of her hips as she walked. “How are ya doing, handsome? Working hard?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, always.” She threw herself down into the chair opposite his desk and exhaled loudly. She was dressed in leggings the color of cotton candy with lipstick to match, covered in a bright white poncho with what looked like owls patterned across it. Why in God’s name did this drive him crazy? It wasn’t exactly leather and lace. Still, the thought of peeling it off gave him just as much of a thrill.

He needed to put a lid on it.

“So, uh… you got something for me?”

“Anytime ya want it, sugar,” she said with a lascivious wink that she followed up with a full laugh. Just in case his blood pressure wasn’t high enough. “Just kidding. Yeah, I’ve got it here. Hold on.”

She handed him a leaf of wide-ruled notebook paper, bent and tattered and covered with the flamboyant whirls and loops of her now-familiar handwriting. There were more than a few coffee stains and doodles on the margins, the most common theme being what looked like a unicorn chasing a robber. It was held together with a thick clamp at the top, making it almost impossible to flip through the pages.

“That’s… um. That’s original,” he said lamely, looking over it.

“I know! I’m so sorry. If ya don’t mind waiting a few days I’ll transcribe it but I know they’re holding us to a pretty strict deadline so I didn’t want them to come for your head.”

“I appreciate that,” he said, nodding before gently placing her manuscript to the side. “So, who is Chloe Ransom killing these days? Shapeshifters or ghosts?”

“Tracking a wendigo through the deep dark woods, actually,” she said, beaming. “With a sweet hunk of forest ranger to keep her company, of course.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “Well, I have some cover art to go over with you and there have been a few changes in your contract for the next three books…”

-- X --

It was after seven before Dean made it back to his townhouse, yawning and swinging a big bag of takeout along with his briefcase. Donna’s manuscript - such as it was - was like a lead weight on his arm, begging to be hauled up and read to death. He’d told himself that if he got through the other chapters vying for his attention he could read all of Donna’s tonight over dinner. He’d chosen a greasy burger and fries - Chloe Random’s main staple as she flitted from bar to bar, looking for cases and any excuse to pull out the armory in her trunk.

Dean tossed his jacket and tie as he situated himself on one end of his couch, turning to stretch his legs over the cushions. He’d placed a cold beer on the coffee table next to him and kicked his shoes off. Burger in one hand and Donna’s manuscript in the other, he dug in. The handwriting baffled him occasionally but he was able to decipher it if he tilted it far enough to the side.

The first few chapters were easy to fly through. Chloe was back in the saddle after a nest of vampires tried to turn her into lunch in the last book - they’d succeeded with her partner. Poor Sam. But now she was coming out of mourning and out of her recovery, looking to kick some ass. He scribbled a few notes on the sides but Dean didn’t slow down until close to chapter nine, when something like suspicion prickled over his skin.

Chloe stepped into the office, grateful for the air conditioning after the sauna that was the inside her car. Appalachia in the dead heat of summer wasn’t a picnic. She could only hope her deodorant was up to the job, because the man behind the desk ahead of her was more likely to have her sweating than the blazing sun outside.

Dark blond hair cut short and tousled to look like he’d just run his fingers through it, a sharp jaw, and lethally green eyes. A few shallow crow’s feet that turned his face from pretty to something closer to devastating. It was the eyes that held her attention the longest, at least until he smiled. Then her eyes snapped to the ever so slightly elongated canines nestled into his otherwise straight white teeth. A hint of the primal, hidden among the mundane. She couldn’t help her mind wandering to which part of her anatomy he’d sink those teeth into first.

Dean paused, looking up and away from the words on the page.

He fought the urge to run for a mirror, checking his own reflection against the description in the story. Unconsciously his tongue drew up to rub against his top teeth, the ever so slight edge on his canines now roaring to the forefront of his attention. Were they longer? Certainly not longer than average. No one had ever called them out to him, anyway, but there it was... a bare millimeter jutting out from the line of the rest of his teeth.  

His attention went back to the story.

“You must be Detective Ransom,” the supermodel-turned-park ranger said, standing from his chair to offer his hand. Cripes, he was even tall. Just tall enough to make her look up at him through her lashes like the hussy she was.

“That’s me,” she affirmed, taking his hand in her own. Calluses, she noticed. The man did real work. “Sorry, they didn’t give me your name when I left the precinct. I was out the door like a flash.”

“Daniel,” he told her, “Daniel Wesson. But just Dan is fine.”

Son of a bitch.

Dean put the manuscript down to run his hand over his face. Was he crazy? Was he imagining all this? He wasn’t any more or less self-absorbed than the next guy, but come on. There’s seeing yourself in everything and then there’s seeing yourself when someone has obviously written about you.

He finished the remainder of the portion in record time, not even bothering to pick up his pen to make notes. Dan and Chloe sat and talked about the case - a slew of missing hikers, remains never found. Chloe didn’t mention her added knowledge of a pattern just like this one going back forty years, and then another set of disappearances forty years before that. Dan was forthcoming and Chloe was invested, eager to put down the monster and get back to her hometown in Minnesota with enough time for her sister’s wedding. Chapter ten finished with Chloe packing her gear and heading to the mouth of the forest, a flask on her hip and Dan at her side.

His burger had grown cold and his beer had fallen flat at some point but it didn’t matter. The pages in his hand had captivated him to such an extent that he doubted he’d notice if someone kicked in his front door. Before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table and flipped to Donna’s number. It was there… inviting him to press on it. A text, even. She was probably still in the city.

Dean closed the application and set the phone back down.

He was getting a little worked up. Overreacting because of his… preoccupation with her. Authors were known to take people and places from their real lives and put them into their fictional ones. That wasn’t so unusual, although he’d never seen a suspiciously similar version of himself in anyone else’s work. The only way to solve this, of course, was more data.

He needed more chapters.

#dean winchester #donna hanscum #dean x donna #supernatural #supernatural au #spn au fanfic #dean winchester au #deonna #editor!dean au

[doctor-who-hears-a-horton]

Drinks At Jazz Clubs (Ten x Rose)

written for @doctorroseprompts​ “ Roaring 20s AU with Rose as a singer in a jazz club (bonus points for Rose in a flapper dress) “

Rating: Teen

Every night, he comes in, and finally, she speaks to him and realizes he's more than even he thought he was

Read it on AO3 Here!

She sang. That was all she knew, all she was anymore.  She was a note on a page, a flash in the pan, and most nights, she was alright with that.  The war had recently ended, and by that she meant it had been a couple years, but people were still fighting their demons about the whole thing.  Soldiers came and went, sitting in the club she sang at, nursing glasses of gin and tonic, trying to use it as medicine.

If nothing else, she thought she could help them, make them feel better about whatever situation they thought too difficult for them.  

It was one of those nights she saw him.

He always sat in the same spot every time he came in, hunched over his glass, fringe in his eyes. In fact, he looked like he hadn’t had a good haircut in a very long while.  Rose could tell he was a soldier just by looking at him, but he didn’t seem to wear it like a badge of honor like the other men did.  He didn’t wear his uniform into the club to get women to hang on his arms, he didn’t wink or flirt.  He sat and stared into his drink, and tapped his fingers to the beat of the music.  Every night, he sat like that, and it intrigued Rose to no end.  She was obsessed with him, not that she would ever say it.

The first night he looked up from his drink was when the beginning strains of “Who’s Sorry Now?” played through the room.  His dark eyes locked right onto hers, and Rose felt her heart stutter a little bit in her chest.  He had soulful eyes, that pained her heart.  She offered him a smile before she started singing, and held his gaze as often as she could.

She suddenly felt insecure, wearing so little clothing as she was. Her red flapper dress hit just above her knees, and she suddenly felt the need to cover herself up and run offstage.  The thin straps on the dress made goosebumps break out when she saw the way his eyes touch her shoulders, his gaze like fire.  Halfway through the song, his gaze dropped again, and she was breathless.

After she was done singing, she repressed the urge to throw on her fur wrap and decided to sit with the man at the bar.  She perched on the bar stool next to him and threw her hair over her shoulder.

“Butt me?” She asked him, holding out her hand.

“I don’t think a singer should smoke,” he replied softly, his tender voice not matching his demeanor.  “And you have a beautiful voice.”

She sat up straighter, feeling as though she should be insulted, but she really wasn’t.  He was kind, she could tell just by looking at him.  

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling at him, “I see you round here a lot.”

He smiled. “That would be because I come round here a lot.”

“You’re a tricky one,” Rose wiggled her finger at him. “Do you want to tell me your name?”

“I’d love to, but it’s impolite of me to not let a lady go first.”

She smiled and held out her hand. “Rose Tyler.”

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “A pleasure.  Doctor John Smith.” “A Doctor?  And all this time I thought you were a soldier.”

“I was,” he nodded, releasing her hand, and she regretted it instantly.  She was shocked just by how much she wanted to touch him again.

“Then I read you right,” She said proudly.

He taped the side of his nose.  “That’s not everything about me though.  I’m more than a man who fought.”  

“So you help people.  I like that.” He smiled. “I’ve also killed people.”

   “There was a war,” she said, “Who hasn’t?”  She leaned towards him, “I’m sorry you had to do that, but it doesn't define you.” She cleared her throat when he seemed to be uncomfortable. “You like ‘Who’s Sorry Now’, don’t you?” “Yes, ma’am,’ He said, smiling at her. “I've never heard anyone sing it like you do, though.”

   “Is that so?” She preened a little. “You come in every night. Maybe I should sing it tomorrow, just so I know that you'll come back.”

   He smiled. “I come for the drinks.”

   “I think you tell yourself that. I want to know why you really come.”

   The strength in those dark eyes faltered, and he looked at her straight on, like he suddenly wasn't afraid of her anymore. “You are mesmerizing,” he said, “Not because you're beautiful, although you are, but because you can sing about love and loss and strength and power and make me believe every word.”  He took a sip of his drink. “You're the first singer who's ever made me feel anything. I like it.”

   She nudged his shoulder. “Maybe I do mean it,” she said, “Maybe I've felt every word in the pit of my stomach, in every fiber of my being.”

   “I think you tell yourself that,” he quoted back to her, smiling, “I think you just have incredible empathy.  I think you like to feel emotions.”

   “Who doesn't?”

  “Me.”

    “But you said I made you feel, Doctor John Smith,” she said, cocking her head to the side, “Don't I count?”

   “Miss Tyler, I think you count for the lot of them,” he smiled at her.  “You came over and talked to me first, after all, I would've never expected that.”

   “I'm not exactly full of surprises,” she admitted to him, her smile turning a bit sheepish as she did so. “But I like your eyes. And I like how you speak to me. And I rather hope that you'll come round tomorrow night.”

  “You really want me to?” He questioned, arching an eyebrow at her.

  “I really do,” she nodded. “And since you won't let me smoke, you can at least buy me a drink.”

  She caught his gaze wandering a few times, but for the most part, as they spoke, his eyes were firmly fixed on hers. She was glad for that, as she was drawn into his eyes with a fire that she, perhaps, had forgotten existed. He was completely raw, had no time to hide anything at all, because he had done so many horrible things that it was exhausting, keeping it all in one body.

  She learned that he'd taken and saved lives and that sometimes he regretted what he'd done. He learned that she grew up with the bare minimum of education.

   They both learned that they would like to see each other again.

   He kissed her hand again before bolting into the night, leaving her pulse absolutely thrumming. She went home shortly after, lightly buzzed, drunk enough to let the warm happiness settle in her veins.

    As he had (or hadn't) promised, he was there the next night. Like a ritual, she would come off the stage and drink with him, night after night, wearing different dresses, until one night she noticed the gold one she was wearing seemed to be absolutely rocking his world. He kept staring at it, and the gold light flecked off his eyes in the most becoming manner.

   “You like this one?” She asked him teasingly, trailing her fingers through the fringe on the dress.

   “You're beautiful,” he told her, eyes locked back on hers. “The gold is lovely.”

   “So you do like it.”

  “I do.”

   “We've talked for days now, Doctor John Smith, and not once have you offered to walk me home,” she crossed her legs, and his eye was drawn to her knees. He swallowed hard.

 “That would hardly be appropriate.”

 “Would it?” She asked him, “Because I don't remember inviting you in.”

 He gave a surprised laugh. “Alright then, Miss Tyler, if you'd like me to, I'll walk you home tonight.”

 She fetched her wrap from the back of the club as a soft jazz piece filtered through the space. She held her hand out to John.

  “I'd Like you to dance with me first.”

  He seemed a little uncomfortable, but he guided her to the dance floor anyway, wrapping one arm around her waist, fingers tangling in the fringe of her dress, and the other hand holding hers in his. They fit perfectly like this, Rose mused to herself, and she wondered if he thought they did too.

  They danced for more than one song, though it really wasn't on purpose. They would murmur bits and pieces of what could've been conversations but really weren't. He talked like the ocean, pushing and pulling, and she could've let it wash over her all night.

   Eventually though, Rose snapped herself from the reverie he had settled her under and tapped her fingers against the skin on the back of his neck.

   “I think it's time you escorted me home,” she told him softly, and he agreed with a small smile and a nod.

   The walk back to her tiny shack of a home was a short one. She didn't live in a glamorous part of town, and by the expression on his face, she assumed he did.

   “Didn't know a pretty girl could live in the slums, could you?” She teased.

   He blushed a little, caught. “I wasn't going to say anything about it. Except it might not be safest for you here.”

   “It's what I can afford,” she shrugged.  She pulled a chain from around her neck and grasped the key that had been on the end of it. John gulped, as most men would when realizing the woman who holds their affections kept her house key in her breasts all night.

   “I've been thinking,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “I think we should see each other outside the jazz club.”

   “We are outside the jazz club.”

  “You're just being difficult because you know this is hard for me.”

  She stepped away from the door and stood so close to him that he could feel her breath. She looked up into his eyes and smiled slowly. “And just where would you take me, my war-torn Doctor?”

   His hands settled on her waist of their own free will and he tugged her a little closer. “I would take you to the Stars.”

   “And the moon?”

  “If we have time.”

  She laughed, a nice tinkling sound that lit through the night. “I would like that.  Why don't we go tomorrow? I don't work.”

   “Neither do I.”

   “It's a date.”  She leaned up on her toes and kissed him softly. He wasn't expecting it, so his fingers dug into her sides just so he could keep his balance. He managed, quite well in fact, and kissed her back.  He pulled back after several moments and pressed his forehead to hers. “Don't forget about tomorrow,” he told her.

  “Wouldn't dream of it,” she said breathlessly. “You're a brilliant kisser.”

 “So are you.” He kissed her again and took a step back. “Until tomorrow?”

 She waved her hand theatrically. “Until the sun shall kill the Earth once more with light as you have kissed me with your darkness.”  She stepped forward again and cupped his cheek in one hand. “You deserve all the happiness that I intend to give you, John Smith. Goodnight.”

  He took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers.  “Goodnight, my Rose.”

  Her eyes seemed to fill with happiness at words and she nodded. It was hard for them to say goodnight, but Rose went back into her home and John went to his, knowing he would see the shining face of his savior once more.

   Perhaps spending every night at a jazz club wasn't so bad after all.

#tenrose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #fanfic #writing prompts #ten x rose #tenxrose #doctor who fanfic #fanfiction