#The full name is actually fragile as a flower au but if you think I will write that entire thing out each time I need to tag something | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollyhomburg · 4 years

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Reasons Wretched and Divine (Pt. 7)

(Hybrid au) (YoonMinJoon x Reader) (Mafia au)

Summary: After years of abuse, you’ve all finally found each other. But for one of you- the fear still lingers, hidden in the shadows. Yoongi doesn’t want much, just a few more weeks, but he only has until the end of the summer.

Parings: Snake hybrid! Yoongi x Dog hybrid! Jimin x Dog hybrid! Namjoon x Pregnant! Reader, Platonic Vmin, allusions to 2seok,

Genre: Hybrid au, Polyamory au, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Pregnancy, Mafia au

Tags: Domestic abuse, references to sexual abuse- and choosing to have sex even though you’ve been through sa, physical abuse, polyamory negotiations, Post-traumatic stress disorder, mute characters, brief gore at the end, pregnant m/c, frottage, marking kink, fingering, oral f. receiving, Voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied death but dont worry I do not write MCD!!!!

A/n: just for posterity's sake! i was drunk when i posted this! enjoy! full gangbang comes in (y/n) next chapter! (oh god im going to hell).

W/c: 10.5k

Song Rec: Like Real People do ~ Hozier

~ Series Masterlist ~

2 Years Earlier

- If Jeon Jungkook where so esoterically inclined, he would write a book on how he had become the most dangerous man in the underworld. It would be a short book though; because Jungkook had only 2 rules for himself. The first was to always get up after he’d been hit during a fight (even if it took him a second) and the second was to know when to mind his own business.

- Jungkook was always able to get up after being hit, Even when he’d been a street kid, with not a penny to his name and a whole lot of anger in his mouth. ready to spit vitriol at anyone who would pause and listen. He’d always been able to get up. The pain giving him a kind of sick clarity that he eventually sought out instead of tried to escape. Jungkook could never think as clearly as he did during a fight; or when he was in pain. And that was probably because of his father.

- But whatever. That man was 6 feet under, (his mother on the other hand- no- that bitch certainly had more than one dept to pay still). He didn’t have a lot of time or energy to put into dealing with that particular trauma (why he honestly felt like sometimes- he liked being hit). Most of his energy went into staying alive. Even now- when living and surviving teetered on the same edge. Jungkook had more pressing matters to tend to than dealing with his own fragile mind.

- The way he would get up and hop around for a second to soak in the clarity after being hit during a scuffle was one of the reasons why he’d been given his street name: The Playboy Bunny; further set in stone with his tattoo of the same moniker under his left eye. A cheekbone he’d tap and say “you want to hit me? why don’t you try your luck and see how well it turns out for you.”

- He was doing reconnaissance, Sneaking around the back alley with his hood up and his glasses on- disguising his black eye that was sure to get more than a few looks from passers-by. The ears of the playboy bunny tattoo peeking out over the top of his mask.

- He keeps his eyes on the crowd waiting for some sort of handoff- to see anything at all. But he’d lost his target through the crowd and has no drive to find them in the dizzying rush of people and umbrellas. Not yet. Not when the hum of addiction lurks in his veins.

- Jungkook pauses lighting a cigarette, when a commotion to the side hidden around a corner- blurs his concentration. The world snapping back into focus when he sinks his fingernails into his palm. Terse voices. A couple fighting in the alleyway perpendicular to his.

- Minding his own business was a particular skill of his- it took one kind of person to know when to step in, and another to know which problems weren't worth the headache. And unless it involved the acquisition money or some step therein, it wasn’t a problem worth getting into in Jungkook’s opinion.

- But Jungkook can’t stop his ears from hearing snippets of conversation, a low and angry male voice. The sound of a smack. “You just had to embarrass me like that, didn’t you? First, you come out dressed like a slob and then you act like a fucking whore- I swear if I see you give eyes to another man this week I'll beat you five ways to Sunday”

- The sound of a soft female voice, so quiet- almost indistinguishable from the pouring rain, “I wasn’t-” another smack.

- Jungkook has been hit so many times he knows the sound of it, the ragged gasp the woman lets out, also quite- like even the pain takes up too much space.

- His body starts to move before his mind thinks it through as he gives up position in favor of investigating the noise. There he sees it, ivy growing up the wall next to the back exit of some restaurant. A woman, small crouching in front of a grotesque man. A baggy coat buttoned tight around her small form. hair swept back in a tight bun. Red lipstick smudged. Though you check your hands and think its blood for a moment before you remember you’re wearing it.

- Jungkook waits for a moment before he watches you stand on shaky legs. you get up.

- The rest of the underworld might be old grudges and blood feuds but Jungkook was only here to be a businessman. He didn’t have time for ego and arrogance, let alone time for altruism...

- Usually.

- He looks on for a moment, too sluggish without nicotine, but Jungkook’s lingering stare almost seems to spur the man on. He’s wearing a jacket with a military patch, a badge; some sort of congratulation for service done no doubt. and Jungkook feels his distaste for the man deepen.

- “What you looking at punk?” he slurs. Stalking forward as if to shove Jungkook. He almost wants to tut- that would be an expensive action. Jungkook wonders if the man is maybe high or drunk or both. He’s has had his fair share of experience with junkies and he knows one when he sees one.

- “Nothing, just a pig beating his girlfriend.” The man settles for shoving Jungkook back. And Jungkook lets him. You don’t look up, don’t do anything but lean to the side, like the brick wall is the only thing keeping you up. Jungkook sees the back of your hand, black and blue, the other bruises on your neck. You only make eye contact with him once. Just slightly. Barely in passing.

- You look like Jungkook used to look. He remembers in the savage bite of an open-handed slap- the fear he sees in your eyes. He looks and looks. And it aches so viscerally as Jungkook watches you go, your hurt echoes through him. You look beaten down and broken like Jungkook used too; before he’d decided he was done taking punches from people who were supposed to love him- Were supposed to care.

- (Before he realized life wasn't supposed to hurt)

- He’s never been one to feel things for other people, the empathy sparing him through most of the suffering he’s seen. It’s not that he’s unfeeling; it’s just that Jungkook’s life has forced him to feel concerned only for himself and no one else. His own survival is his first priority; Not others.

- He watches you walk away, And you don’t look back at him. Rushing to keep up with your husband's steps. He waits until you disappear into the crowd before he lifts his phone to his ear and makes a call. “Hey, I need you to flag all of the cars that leave the parking lot, they’re just a couple, should be coming to you soon.”

- Jeon Jungkook had become the most powerful man in the underworld because of two reasons; by being able to take punches, and by knowing when to mind his own business.

- But For this, Jungkook thinks he can make an exception.

- (You won't remember meeting Jeon Jungkook, but Jungkook will always remember you).

~.~

Now

-It comes as no surprise that your little speech fades after a few days and the rest of the hybrids quick to return to treating Yoongi with a mix of disdain and fear. Though mostly- this seems to be caused by Minhyung's group and the other canine hybrids. Namjoon hears them whispering about ‘favoritism’ before they catch on that he’s listening in. And in the days following your impromptu departure from the farm, you find people quiet even further whenever Yoongi's brought up. Staring when Yoongi comes close, afraid to interact with him.

- Even Jimin is greeted mostly with silence from all but a few. The bunny hybrids don’t act so skittish anymore, and the cat hybrids could care less used to sticking to their own group. Taehyung seems to have encouraged the other bear hybrids to make an actual effort and they at least say hello now. It’s better than the derisive comments of the dog hybrids, or the snooty noses stuck high in the air of the dear hybrids and other exotic breeds.

- They know Jimin is close to Yoongi and Namjoon, and now he feels even more like an outsider that before (somehow it doesn't matter as much as before). The only ones who don’t act overtly different are the new hybrids; Hoseok and the small lion hybrid. but They were never around to learn how to hate Yoongi in the first place.

- it's a little cute- the way that Hoseok will always shout Yoongi's name in greeting (though you're unsure if that's just his personality now that he's started to grow into himself). Hoseok is unbothered by Yoongi's reaction; to shy away from anything that will draw more attention to himself. But Hoseok's smile is so bright and elastic that even he has a hard time ignoring the otter hybrid. You hope there will be a friendship there eventually, that yoongi will open up to more than just your group.

- The little lion kit is a new addition too, she's not the only young feline hybrid you have at the farm but she is the friendliest. She gets pretty close to the other cats that work in the kitchen almost instantly. Probably on account of her young age (she's barely 7) and the eldest cat hybrid seems to be particularly fond of the little one.

- She's curious and kind to Yoongi too- excitedly running up to him more than once to show him a little rock or some flower she found- and yoongi will marvel and nod, and if Jimin is near- he'll lean close and tell her how pretty it is.

- She doesn't seem at all deterred by Yoongi's lack of voice. one day she even sees Jimin, her ears perking up excitedly, tail swishing. "Hello Yoonies voice!" it's a little cute- even if it does make yoongi splutter a little. But she's not exactly wrong; Jimin does talk for yoongi more these days.

- She Always comes bounding up to you and giggling happily to be picked up. Her little legs stretching around your waist, small bottom sat atop your baby bump. Making you get the kind of look that makes Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin sigh and look impossibly fond. They can only imagine what you’re going to be like once your little one is born. Your due date is barely 2 months away.

- In truth- you’re starting to get a little bit big. You say it one morning with Namjoon. After he asks you why you’re looking into the mirror with such a displeased expression. The sound of your terse voices alerts Yoongi and he comes to the door to your bedroom to witness your spat. Making a flippant hand movement at Namjoon to back off. Namjoon could smell your distress on you when you looked in the mirror, his voice tense but breaking. “Baby just tell me, why you think you’re not beautiful like that? let me understand. Cuz to me- you look more irresistible every day.”

- It’s not that you exactly wanted him to agree with you that you were nearing the size of a whale- but this doesn’t help at all either. His unending insistence- doesn’t he see? when he looks in the mirror doesn’t he see what you do? His instance that everything is alright doesn't help when you’re feeling this self-conscious.

- Yoongi helps you, fiddling with Namjoon’s closet for a second before he pulls out an extra-large white shirt of his and helps you into it- tying it loosely over your baby bump so that it flatters your waist a little more. The attention that Yoongi shows you clearly making you flustered. Then he drags you to the mirror, tugging your hair out of its bun, the tension going out of your shoulders.

- Yoongi doesn’t know it, but Namjoon does. Your late husband used to always be so particular about your hair, yanking on it harshly if it was left down. and An easy way to avoid him yanking on it was to leave it up. And sometimes you still pull it up convinced it’s safer even though he’s dead and gone. It’s scary how simple it is- but the second your hair comes down your whole body relaxes.

- All the while Namjoon watches from your bed. And you take in yourself, the baby hairs free-floating against your forehead; Yoongi curls one gently around his finger and then lets it go. You take in the way that the fabric hangs now, making you look a little more proportional, Yoongi gives you a satisfied smile behind your back and you have to sigh and admit it. “Okay- okay- I’ll give you this- I’m not a whale”

- “And even if you where you’d be a pretty whale.” Yoongi has the good sense to hurl a pillow in Namjoon’s direction, but it makes you laugh all the same- the heaviness in your chest abated a little. Your sleeve brushing Yoongi’s as you head downstairs, Namjoon trailing behind.

- The beach trip was a nice distraction from chores but the real work comes crashing down on them the next few days. Your little group feels closer than ever, you rarely part from any of them for long and their intention, their little acts of care never fail to make you feel flustered and taken care of.

- Jimin always holds out a hand for you to take when you’re stepping over uneven ground, Yoongi makes a startled noise whenever you so much as get close to a hose that might trip you, always gesturing for you to pause and take a break whenever you’re working in the garden. Namjoon too, always running back and forth from whatever project he’s working on to check on you and make sure you have water or food.

- At night, Namjoon takes your stretch mark cream from you, rubbing down your baby bump and your hips, the little lines of lighter skin on your waist get little kisses from him.

- Even if you want just a snack, Namjoon and Yoongi will bring you a full meal- convinced that you need to be eating more than you are. At dinner Yoongi fills up your plate- piling it high with more food then you could fit in your already crowded tummy. And he always eyes you suspiciously when you can’t finish the full plate. Namjoon too will level you with a look- asking if you really are full.

- Since your pregnancy has progressed, you’ve become a little moodier, and a little hornier whenever way the wind blows. And Namjoon doesn’t help that much at all- and by that you mean, he makes it worse. When he comes out of the field with his shirt off and tucked into his shorts all of his thickness, his muscles that make you ravenous.

- During lunch one day he drags you away to a forgotten tool shed, though it would be easier just to go up the hill to your bedroom- you feel like teenagers sneaking around like this.

- Namjoon presses into you as he hits the latch on the door, muffling your giggles with kisses as you hide from the hybrids outside, voices that you can dimly hear, unable to pick out any one particular yet- but you know they're there.

- You and Namjoon might bicker like an old married couple. But you also act like teenagers gooey and giggly and so so so in love. “Do you think that they can hear you like this? Or smell you, my love?” Namjoon is always quick to tell you how delectable you smell when you’re horny. His more sensitive nose-picking it up the second you feel a slickening between your thighs.

- You’re shaky when you respond. “I don’t know, maybe?” Namjoon always has this passionate intense air about him. He’s slightly possessive- but you’d never fault him for that not when it’s all about protecting and providing for you. Not when he always puts your pleasure first (you feel like you may have turned into a slight pillow princess with him).

- Namjoon heaves you up onto the edge of a bench and then gets on his knees. Gently lifting your leg over his shoulder. He’s always mindful of how much you can move in your swollen state. He checks to make sure he’s not bending your hips in an uncomfortable way.

- You put your hands back on the dusty bench to stabilize yourself as you lie back, Namjoon wastes no time in pressing his face close to your cunt and inhaling, His nose prodding at the thin fabric of your underwear. One of his ears caught on the hem of your dress. His fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs- so full and healthy it makes him hard in his pants.

- He’s slow with the appreciation of your thighs and hips. Hands gripping and moving on to touch and feel like you have all the time in the world. But you hear voices outside the tool shed you’ve commandeered and you could just slip out and go back up to your house- but somehow you like this better. The thought of being discovered stirring an unsure heat in your stomach.

- You can hear Taehyung's voice, and then- like a shock through your core- you hear Jimin’s. Namjoon can feel your jolt. And you realize- his sensitive ears must have known who it was before your own human ones did. He chuckles- teasing his fingers along the hem of your underwear, almost daring to slip inside.

- You almost whine when you think about what you’re being denied- the harsh pull of his fingers that you’re so addicted too, how thick his fingers and knuckles feel (almost as nice as his cock) when they pull out and push in.

- Yoongi and Namjoon have always had the most lovely hands, it’s strange that when Namjoon touches you- you think about Yoongi’s hands. The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. "you're thinking about them aren't you," The way you clench around his fingers at that has Namjoon’s tail wagging. Because yeah; Yoongi and Jimin are apart of Namjoon’s pack too, and bonding and group sex are kind of the same thing to hybrids. You’d found that out the hard way when you’d found a group of cat hybrids all tangled together in the grass the other day.

- Namjoon is always so gentle with you because of your condition, but you find your hips jerking with want. His fingers still when he feels the way your wetness has spilled out the sides. His thumb pressed over your clit teasingly. “smell so good when you're like this So wet my love, are you thinking about them finding you like this?”

- “Y-yes” you confess, and Namjoon growls, nipping at you through the fabric, the feel of his teeth brushing you, over the sensitive skin. The fabric cushioning the feeling, makes you almost gush, and you know you’ll be shakily legged by the time he lets you get down. And that he won’t let you get away from him until he’s taken care of you in this way, sated you in every sense of the word.

- But he can also tell how shy you are, the heat under your skin at the thought of being discovered. always unsure how much of your dirty talk is a real want and not just something you like in theory. Namjoon knows the idea of sharing you with the others might seem like the most natural and hottest thing; to love you alongside them. but to you- a human, hybrid sex and hybrid bedroom dynamics aren't as given.

- So he leans close, sliding your underwear down your legs slowly, letting you feel the heat of his palms on your skin. You're getting worked up a little too quickly, your heaving breaths needy. God damn pregnancy hormones you'd say if you could think beyond the plush feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to your clit. “Gotta clean you up for them, if they smelled you like this- then they’d know wouldn’t they?”

- You prove Namjoons initial assumption wrong. “What if I-” you whisper- gasping quietly as Namjoon drags the fabric to the side and glides a delicate lick over your folds. “What if I want them to know?” the pleasure thrumming through your body as Namjoon licks up your slit. Namjoon stills, ears perked, eyes flashing in the half-light. The snarl against your cunt loud and echoic.

- The voices outside fall silent and Namjoon doesn't stop his ravenous licking no matter if you have to bite your lip to keep your noises in. One of your hands scrambling to pull at his hair and find something to grip onto and anchor yourself against the onslaught of pleasure. Jimin is the first one to puncture the silence, “What was that?”

- Then comes Seokjin's voice “all of you- move along- whoever it is they probably don’t want the three of you listening in like a bunch of horn dogs” which is basically a confirmation that they were listening in, and that Yoongi was there too.

- When you finally exit the toolshed with weak legs, sure you’re going to have to at least got change your underwear. You find a bleary-eyed Seokjin a few dozen feet away, obviously upwind of the toolshed. he levels Namjoon with a tired expression. “You both have dirt on your knees” Namjoon has the good sense to look shy at that. You hastily brush off the spots on his, and he on yours.

- If Jimin and Yoongi smell anything on you later- they don’t say anything and the idea that they might make you feel hot all over whenever they lean in too close. You think you see a blush on Yoongi’s face more than once, and maybe see him adjust his pants out of the corner of your eye, but Jimin seems blissfully unaware.

- You have a check-up at the doctor’s office in the coming days. And although only Namjoon is allowed in the room with you (they have a two-person maximum because the ultrasound room is tiny), Yoongi and Jimin also accompany you. Namjoon comes bounding out after, waving the picture and smiling so so wide, both Yoongi and jimin leaning in close to get a better look- they’re so enamored with the little photo. And when you get home- Namjoon shows anyone that asks how the check-up went, eventually hanging it on one of the two fridges in the kitchen.

- Jimin is the only one who seems to notice the jealous looks- because you went out for ice-cream after and come home with them still partially melting (you’d had another craving- french-fries dunked in ice cream of all things). One of the other hybrids having heard Jimin talk to Tae about the beach trip too. They come to you at the end of the day, 2 bunnies, a cat, a fox and one of the bears- a mish moshed group of hybrids; petitioning you to start the beach trips for everyone.

- You can only fit so many people into the back of your truck so you pick a day and start a raffle for spots. Jimin throws his name into the hat just in case but to his surprise, Yoongi doesn’t. No matter how much Jimin bugs him too; He won’t agree to accompany Jimin to the beach again. Shaking his head with a roll of his eyes back tipped back against the grass, his sunhat crumpled. Offering up a few sweet tomatoes to soothe Jimin’s sour nerves.

- The peace lasts for a couple of days before they’re right back to treating Yoongi like shit and for some reason, it pisses Jimin off more. No matter how many times he’s heard Namjoon asks Yoongi to please tell him when anything happens. The snake hybrid seems unable to fight back.

- Jimin asks one of the hybrids why she won’t look at Yoongi (after the snake has already gone up the hill to retrieve another dish for dinner) and beyond a startled look, she just says “none of us can smell him” she throws a stack of paper towels down onto the table angrily. The deer hybrid across from them stumbling with their silver wear But she doesn’t need to re-iterate herself. Jimin understands- it’s hard to trust someone who can lie to your face- and in the world of hybrids where emotions can be decreed from a simple sniff, Jimin can’t say he doesn’t see where they’re coming from.

- Doesn’t excuse their behavior, however. After all- Jimin can smell Yoongi’s emotions through his scent and he didn't realize that was something strange until now. To Jimin, Yoongi’s scent is soft and sweet- something gummy and soft like a marshmallow. But that’s probably because he spends so much time with the hybrid. The others only spend so much time around him and are unused to his scent. And the fact that he never talks and never tries to socialize doesn’t help.

- Jimin can’t imagine not wanting to smell more of it- not leaning in whenever the other hybrid passes. Jimin wants to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck and rub his cheek all over it. The same way that Namjoon does to him in the morning if he shows up before he’s changed from his pajamas. And he knows he smells soft like sleep- an alluring smell to the older alpha when he comes down the stairs, ears straight up eyes wide as he takes in all of Jimin's vulnerability.

- and it might have to do with what Taehyung had said- that alphas eat up that sort of thing.

- Namjoon smells good too, his scent all soft mornings and sleepy walks, the older hybrid large and so pliant in his sleepiness, eyes swollen and face puffy as he hides in Jimin’s shoulder. Sending his pine scent all over so that it sticks to jimin no matter where he is. So that jimin will smell like Namjoon all day.

- One of the cat hybrids at the sink rolls her eyes. But when you come down the stairs smelling much the same. You touch his arm so softly in passing, like you can’t believe you’re allowed. And Jimin’s senses are a dizzying blur of cream, peaches, pine, and marshmallow.

- when he goes back to the barns, hazy at being scented by Namjoon so thoroughly. Taehyung levels him with a funny look and a chuckle. "you're more devious than anyone gives you credit for" thought Taehyung means it good-naturedly- it's good to have a friend to ask how to go about flirting with. the other hybrids gathered on the couch in front of the tv; some cartoon playing- pretend like they're not listening in.

- "How do you know so much when you don't have a pack of your own Tae?" he asks over breakfast, the two of them clutching breakfast burritos on their way to check Tae's bees. Tae doesn't meet Jimin's eyes "you're just lucky- most hybrids dont find a pack so easily Jimin" his words aren’t jealous- only a little patronizing. And Jimin accepts it because he knows he has a lot to learn.

- Taehyung is right- out of all of the hybrids at the farm, there are only a few who have paired up or even made stronger groups or multi-person packs. the bunnies and the cats don't form set generally- though there are a few pairs and more than a few throuples.

- Jimin as caught Yeonjun making out with a tabby more than once- has learned to avoid certain sections of the woods all together because everyone knows that's where the bunny hybrids like to go in the afternoons. The canine hybrids are the only ones who have packs, though there are more than half a dozen loners like jimin and namjoon.

- It's hard for Jimin to cohabitate with them even though there are other larger predators and more than a few prey hybrids living in Jimin's barn. he hadn’t really realized until taehyung pointed it out that each different pack occupied one corner of the punk room. More than once- the room in the barns has felt hostile if only for the packs that have claimed either corner of the bunkroom. it's usual to wake up and find more than one of the pups cuddling with another in one single bed.

- Having reciprocated love in his pack shouldn't feel like an impossibility to Jimin. But still, when Yoongi steps close- an inch too far away, his fingertips barely brushing- Jimin just- yearns. It’s a soft sort of yearning, the kind that has jimin jumping up whenever Yoongi needs something. Has him settling a think knit blanket over Yoongi’s nobly knees during movie nights, and sticking his own feet underneath the edge of the blanket. Feet Pressed to the clothed line of his calf. Maybe nothing will ever come of it, But Jimin yearns with everything he’s got regardless.

- In the late hours of the night, when Jimin lies awake thinking about the three of you. An instinct welling inside of him that says he should walk up the hill and fall asleep on your couch just to be closer to you three (the pack instinct- Taehyung calls it, looking a little bit sad himself when jimin asks him, the other hybrid moving away before jimin can ask exactly what that means) Jimin wonders if his feelings will ever be reciprocated.

- But love is a strange thing, it’s not just about saying it with kisses or touches- though Jimin wants them too. There is love in the small things, in building something together so that’s what Jimin tries to do. Every day- he takes to gardening with a new vigor. Shouting in joy when you harvest some of the tomatoes- filling up a whole gallon bucket with the amount that have ripened over the last week. Your peppers and cucumbers are beginning to produce more too.

- Jimin and Yoongi run to Namjoon just to give him a handful. The alpha gives each of them a sweet nuzzle in thanks, even if Yoongi chirps and moves back after a moment. A flush high on his cheek. Namjoon looking up at Yoongi from where he’s stopped- cheek on the elder's shoulder. The snake relaxing after a moment.

- You spend the rest of the day showing Jimin and Yoongi how to prepare the tomatoes to make a sauce, roasting them on low heat. Cutting garlic so so carefully, and whenever Jimin looks across the prep table- Yoongi’s gaze darts away. halfway through- yoongi stoops down, sticking his socked feet into jimin’s lap, and it feels so nice, to have their weight there.

- You go over to Yoongi at one point, and he tips his head back to look up at you. The back of his head is at the right height to lye up against your baby bump. And Jimin watches, as you slowly, so slowly, brush the hair out of his eyes and away from his forehead. Yoongi’s eyes flutter closed and he tips his face into your hand. Letting out a low happy grumble when you take his action as positive reinforcement, and drag your nails over his scalp. In Jimin’s lap, Yoongi’s toes curl.

- It feels strange- and Jimin can’t quite put his finger on it- but it almost feels like Yoongi is letting you all touch him more than ever. Suddenly okay with touches- as long as it’s in a more private setting. Jimin can’t say he’s unhappy about it. Maybe one-day yoongi will even let Jimin scent mark him.

- Jimin smiles at Yoongi’s happy little snake grumbles. And keeps chopping his garlic. Is happy to receive the same kind of scratch from you a few minutes later. Though he might abandon his chopping in favor of rubbing his face all over your stomach when the instinct strikes him. Jimin unintentionally lets out a growl when you start to move away. Slapping a hand over his mouth and apologizing, no matter how you and Yoongi laugh.

- Still, despite the happiness, you have in your kitchen, in your house, whenever you’re around each other. The rest of the world is not so kind.

- An adoption day comes at arguably the worst and best time. There is still a fair amount of friction between your group and the rest of the hybrids. And a few outsiders at the farm only make it worse. Though Yoongi, Jimin, and Namjoon aren’t the only hybrids who wear red stickers to indicate that they are not available for adoption.

- Hoseok surprisingly- grabs a yellow sticker. And the three of your hybrids watch- as Seokjin hovers around him- a red sticker on his own lapel- wary of all and anyone who interacts with the otter hybrid. His glares putting off all but the most attentive patrons. That's where it starts.

- Jimin is unfortunately caught in the middle when seokjin confronts hoseok. off to help the three of them bring down 3 trays of cut watermelon for the hybrids and the patrons. The dinner tables have been set out on the side of the field piled high with Hors d'oeuvre. You’re there with Namjoon greeting the humans. Games are set out too- for the hybrids and humans to play.

- it’s no secret that they’ve gotten close, and jimin had assumed they’d talked about it- but apparently not. Seokjin is so angry he’s nearly crying. “why- hoseok- why do you want to leave the farm?” Hoseok’s little otter ears are tight against his scalp. “I just- I didn’t want to assume?”

- “Oh- so you’d rather just- throw away everything that we’re trying- all of this- you don’t you dont want to stay do you-” Jimin has never seen seokjin looking so lost, and he knows enough to guess that Seokjin’s anger is at least in part to due to some trauma (later- Jimin will find out that Seokjin’s mother left him with his last owner- an abusive man- to save herself).

- Jimin knows enough to get in between them, telling them to calm down and spend a minute away from each other. Jimin ends up with Hoseok- “it’s hard Jimin- how do you, how do you have so much sureness with Y/n? with Namjoon and yoongi too? How do you look at them and trust that you should stay?” Hoseok's eyes remain on Jimin's red tag.

- Jimin sighs, thinking it through, “do you look at Seokjin and know he cares about you? like- do you know it in your bones?” Hoseok bites his lower lip, “yes- but-”

- “Then you should stay Hoseok,” Jimin walks Hoseok up to the main house where the stickers sit on the prep table. Changing out his yellow one for a red one. And when they head off back down the hill, Seokjin is waiting on the path with Yoongi, apologizing and dragging Hoseok away to the barns where Seokjin’s own private room is. Hoseok goes willingly, smiling up at the older hybrid. His narrow shoulders cuddled under one of Seokjin's wide ones.

- jimin has to admit, an otter and an alpaca are a weird combination for a hybrid pack (But no stranger than a pair of puppies and a snake). His thoughts drift towards Taehyung- and Jimin hopes that his friend won't end up alone. it must not be easy- to see all of you pair off like this.

- in some ways, that adoption day is full of just as much bullshit as they usually are. there are always people who dont understand the effort it takes to take care of a hybrid- they aren't just like any ordinary pet. it's easy to spot the ones that view them as pets- and less like people. You get a few rich people looking to adopt a companion as always.

- A substantial group of families also look to adopt similarly aged companions for their single children. And you agree to more than one possible test weekend. You’re always so particular about letting the children go, so wary and so careful in the way you let them interact with the families.

- Though they don’t have parents here- there are more than a few good role models and parental figures. More than one child chooses a red tag for themselves. And they always know have a right to it- no matter how young they are. You make it clear to the group of them; If they don’t want to be adopted they don’t have to be.

- You even get one couple- the woman withdrawn and sad, and a slightly jealous look at your own pregnant stomach says more than any words could. It’s pretty common for women who can’t have children to adopt hybrid children. and though some of it doesn't sit right with you, You aren’t one to judge.

- Jimin spends most of the adoption day helping you balance the need for food and for games. running back and forth to the house to help. Though there is a little work that needs to be done here and there just to keep the farm running as usual. grey storm clouds roll in halfway through the day, puncturing the blue sky- foretelling scattered showers and storms. and jimin hopes it will cut the adoption day short so that you can return to your routines.

- Jimin is just helping Yoongi putting away a broken badminton net When it happens- Jimin isn’t certain why it does. Only that he hears the words outside the shed after Yoongi's just excited to grab the broken rackets (Namjoon isn't the only clumsy hybrid you have at the farm).

- “oh sorry- ew gross,” a shrill female voice says, and then he rounds the corner and sees yoongi picking himself up from the dirt- a rich lady and her peacock hybrid looking down at him like he’s the dirt beneath his shoes. The peacock hybrid has Yoongi’s sun hat in his hands and there is another hybrid- a wolf hybrid from the farm with a green sticker on his shirt, who growls down at yoongi.

- His shoulders shake too the way they do when he’s been touched and he doesn’t want to be. Jimin has seen you brush your fingers over the back of Yoongi’s hand, has even felt the coolness of the snake hybrid through the fabric when the elder grabbed his sleeve. Has touched him even more intimately as of late. But he knows that Yoongi can’t tolerate being touched by people he doesn’t trust- doesn’t want to touch him. basically, anyone, that's, not you, Namjoon, or Jimin himself.

- “Hey- what the fuck!” Jimin spits, grabbing the sunhat out of the hybrid's hand with a growl, his ears flat against his head. If Jimin had elongated canines like Namjoon they would be barred in anger as he shoves the larger hybrid back. Yoongi shrinks impossibly smaller behind him.

- Jimin is hot and itchy from the heat and the humidity, and he really just wants to shower and cool off. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with entitled people today. And more importantly- no one touches Yoongi on Jimin’s watch.

- The hybrid looks surprised to be talked to in that way, he’s nearly a head taller than Jimin let alone the slightly taller feathers that poke out of the top of his head that give him the appearance of several more inches- but Jimin’s intimidating enough with his set expression to send the hybrid huffing away. Feathers fluffed.

- The peacock's iridescent feathers stand up on end as he grabs the hand of his human owner, her diamond tennis bracelet glittering in the sunlight. “This was getting boring anyway. Sorry” he tosses over his shoulder at the canine hybrid, who looks so disappointed his ears pinned back against his head. They only give him that- barely a look, before they’re heading off down the hill in the direction of the line of cars parked on the grass.

- The wolf hybrid deflates audibly- watching the woman and the other hybrid disappear down the hill. promises of home and family disappearing in a moment, but Jimin has to think- if they’d be discouraged so easily- were they really worth it? The wolf hybrid doesn't seem to think so- Turning his angry tear-filled eyes on Jimin.

- But Jimin can see the hate in his eyes and knows not to mistake the tears for only sadness. “You both ruin everything” he growls out- before they too run back towards the barns- no doubt to tell the others how Yoongi had sabotaged their adoption. Even though that was far from the truth. in all honestly- yoongi just bumped into the lady- or more probably- the lady bumped into him when he was on his way out of the shed.

- Jimin holds out his sunhat to Yoongi, who takes it from Jimin carefully, Jimin doesn’t linger on the fact that his hand still shakes. Jimin’s hand lingers somewhere close enough where Yoongi could touch it could reach out if he wants too. If he wants to get that kind of comfort from Jimin's touch- then Jimin will willingly give it.

- a faint flush coats the elder's cheeks. Oh no- he must be overheating then, Jimin feels a rush of concern. He knows what you would do, hover your hand close enough to Yoongi’s forehead, usher him upstairs for a break in the air conditioning, and a glass of icy lemonade.

- All they can hear is the shouts of laughter at the games the others play in the fields, “I understand why you don’t want to stay in the barns, why you don’t want to socialize with some of them, they’re so unkind to you it makes me crazy.” Jimin shakes his head, sour anger filling him like a rotten peach.

- Yoongi, looks more than pacified, looking up at Jimin with an indecipherable look. Most of the time, Jimin can get a good guess on how he’s feeling but not now- not that indecipherable heaviness he finds there. or the strangely heavy marshmallow scent that’s fluffed around them. Jimin lets go of Yoongi’s hat.

- After a moment Yoongi nods, and Jimin takes it as a thank you. They’re done for the day and dinner won’t be for another few hours or so. Jimin is ready to avoid some of the strangers and hopefully take advantage of the empty showers. The sky is grey with incumbent storm clouds when Jimin makes his way to the shower buildings which he finds blissfully empty; except for the bear hybrid Jackson that tosses a greeting at Jimin before exiting.

- Jimin doesn’t even bother to flick the lights on, instead of settling for the calm light that comes through the skylights, grey and hazy. the storm clouds have started to roll in properly. He hums as he disrobes, goes to grab his favorite strawberry body wash, and picks the last shower at the end, disrobing in relative comfort, glad for a moment of privacy.

- The blissfully Coldwater does wonders for his overheating muscles, relaxing his body deliciously from a day spent walking up and down the hill. he digests the chaos of the day- seokjin and hoseok fighting, yoongi getting shoved. you'd looked frazzled the last time he'd seen you, smile strained as you made small talk with most of the humans, Namjoon always close incase you needed someone to lean on.

- Jimin had been able to tell that your feet were sore just by looking at you. Namjoon will probably make you sit down before long, maybe he already has. You’ll probably cut off the adoption day because of the rain. Taking down names and information before you send them on their way. You rarely let a hybrid leave the farm after one adoption day, needing to have more private meetings and house calls to willingly part with one of them. You just want to make sure you dont release them back into another abusive household.

- He hums as he washes, lingering in the water and taking a longer shower than he usually would. He hums, testing the way his vocal cords wrap around the acoustics of the empty high ceilinged room.

Then he hears the scuffling of someone in the bathroom too and cuts off. A little abashed at being caught. The rustling getting closer and its a moment before he realizes that the rustling is coming from his own section of the bath. he smells him the second before he pulls the shower curtain gets pulled back.

- “Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, furiously grabbing at something to cover his nakedness. Jimin furiously tries to cover his crotch, grabbing one of the large bargain bottles of shampoo and hold it there even as cold water runs over his face. Getting into his wide eyes. “Yoongi what the fuck! You’re naked!”

- Jimin is glad that the rumors about snake hybrids having double the appendages as a normal hybrid are false but he can’t stop his blush or his wandering eyes as he sees the snake hybrid in full. Or the hot lick of arousal that shocks him through his core- especially when he recognizes the heaviness to Yoongi's scent as being arousal.

- there is a single moment, jimin can smell yoongi- can see the want in his eyes, can feel his own scent fluff out to meet his, yoongi sags under the weight of Jimin's scent as the surprise dissipates. "do you-" Jimin's face must be brighter than a tomato. He reaches out a tentative hand, "do you want to-"

- Before Jimin can do much more than that Yoongi’s lips are on his, tentative but firm and passionate, the fire leaking into him from Yoongi as jimin stumbles in surprise. The kiss tastes like thank you and Ive wanted to do this for longer than i care to admit and everything yoongi can't say, can't let slip past his lips. jimin drops the shampoo bottle which narrowly misses his foot as Yoongi’s hands come up to encircle his jaw so softly like Yoongi is holding the most important thing in his world. Jimin is so shocked that for a moment- he doesn’t kiss back and Yoongi retracts- not before Jimin chases his lips and the snake hybrid returns to him.

- It’s the first time Yoongi’s ever touched Jimin so bare, and the snake’s hands on the back of his neck feel cold and shivery but good. As Jimin’s back hit’s the wall and their fronts press together for a moment, just brushing. Then colliding with more force as they both realize how good it feels to be so close to someone you trust. It’s dizzying- intoxicating, and Jimin knows his mouth is moving sloppily even if he wants to kiss Yoongi with just as much intent.

- The snake hybrid bites- actually bites- down on Jimin’s tongue. And a strangled whine comes to live and die in his throat. A snarl in his ears from Yoongi's mouth as the snake hybrid keeps his biting, moves to Jimin's throat- bites hard Enough that Jimin knows he'll leave a bruise. "leave more- yoongi please mark me" jimin feels hot with the thought of it- the thought of all the other hybrids being able to smell yoongi on his scent gland.

- Jimin doesn’t know where to put his hands, he knows enough to know that Yoongi doesn’t like to be touched and unsure if it extends to right now. but it seems okay if he’s doing the touching. His hands sliding down Jimin's back to his waist. He’s a good kisser, the best that Jimin’s ever kissed (not that there have been many) and he tips his head forward to put as much scalding force as he can into it when yoongi leaves his neck in favor of his mouth, trying to match Yoongi’s intensity even if he can’t match his skill.

- Yoongi takes a step forward, and Jimin’s cock brushes his hipbone, and he can’t stop the way his hips jump at the contact, brushing into Yoongi further. Jimin’s blood boils with arousal. Yoongi is equally as hard compared to Jimin. And Jimin doesn't know if its water or precum that he feels on his skin. Can't look down to check.

- By the time Yoongi leans back and finishes running his fingers through Jimin’s hair and over his shoulders. Jimin’s so wound up he feels like he’s about the pass out. The cool water cascading over his back doing nothing to settle him. Yoongi moves his hips- testing the waters, as he grinds, works jimin’s hips into an unsteady rhythm. and jimin moans.

- Yoongi pulls back, looking at jimin, their noses brushing, like he can’t bear to have jimin farther away from him than this, want heavy in his eyes, and Jimin tastes the words on Yoongi’s lips as good as if he’d said them. “Yoongi” jimin breathes. Palms pressed carefully to the shower wall so that he won’t reach out and yank Yoongi closer. But he’s Weak against the wake of this of all this feeling.

- “fuck- kiss me again- can we- ” Jimin feels strung out, his body heavy with something like heat- maybe Jimin is actually having a heat and it’s not just in his imagination (he wouldn't really know what it felt like- never having had one before because of his malnutrition). But This kind of kissing is certainly enough to trigger one.

- Yoongi opens his mouth for a second, almost like he’s about to speak- or to try to, Jimin’s never been sure if he can- if it’s muteness or just Yoongi being selective. And then in the next moment, Yoongi’s gone, almost tripping on his way out of the showers with how fast he’s leaving jimin. A whine dies in his throat and jimin starts after him, But then Yoongi turns back. Gesturing with a hand for jimin to stay put. Yoongi looks angry, and it takes a moment for Jimin to realize that the anger wasn’t directed at jimin- only at Himself.

- Jimin stays in the shower, water thundering down around him as the sky overhead thunders too. Jimin listens to the faint sound of Yoongi dressing and then leaving the showers. Jimin lets him go. So sure that he has absolutely no idea what just happen- or even if he didn’t imagine the whole thing.

- jimin’s hand on himself doesn't feel nearly good as Yoongi’s did.

- Yoongi’s hands shake all the way back up the hill, and he hopes his wet hair won’t be too suspicious especially when a mixed group of hybrids crosses his path. Returning to the barns as most of the adoption day festivities have ended.

- Yoongi’s careful to keep his eyes averted. And like usual- the conversation comes to a halt when Yoongi passes them by. It no longer bugs him the way it might have once. They have a good reason not to want to associate with him. Yoongi’s body shakes with the weight of the things he’s done and the things he’s going to do.

- you gather with 3 families on your porch as you take down their names and contact information. You send yoongi a concerned look as he quickly heads inside the house. Pausing only for a moment before he decides to go to Namjoon first. Later- later he’ll ask you too.

- Stupid- he’s been so stupid recently. Touching you- indulging in these short sweet touches because he wants more so badly. Knows he can never have it doesn’t stop the wanting. If his owner ever found out what he’s done- if she ever found out what he’d almost done with jimin- she’d surely have Jimin’s hands for it.

- And as much as Yoongi wishes it were any other way- Jimin almost touching him does remind him of far worse times. Though he’d been the one to initiate it this time- the memories still linger.

- Times when foreign hands touched his skin as he’d thrashed and screamed trying to protest against the taunting words of his owner. “I’ve never been interested in snake dick but if you want him for tonight you can have him- just be careful- he bites” and he shakes with those memories. Though its been many years. like most kinds of torture- eventually, his owner had grown bored with using yoongi's body as a bargaining chip. Yoongi wonders if he’s ever going to be able to be touched that way without feeling the revulsion at his own body.

- Jimin had come close, but he'd known- known that yoongi didn't want him to touch him. Had seemed more than willing to be touched himself. the revulsion hadn't hit him until the end.

- The places he’s been touched without his consent feel black and decaying- or like ink, every time someone touches him- Yoongi’s surprised that ink doesn’t come away on your hands soft and delicate. But it didn’t change the fact that Yoongi wanted it- and wants it still.

- he wants to see you soft and sated the way you look sometimes in the morning when he can smell Namjoon on you- wants to cause it- maybe, someday in the future if you'll let him. He knows you’d be gentle with him. Wouldn’t put your hands anywhere he didn’t want. Would check in with him- going as slowly or as quickly as he wanted too. Namjoon would be able to be gentle too- Yoongi’s sure of it.

- He wants it, even though he knows that want only put you all in danger. He’s an incredibly selfish person. He hopes he never gets to have that intimacy with you, for your sake.

- yoongi should only let himself dream of something good before he goes- sinks back into that life. But the temptation for more is too strong sometimes, his want filling him up like sticky sweet syrup that pollutes every moment.

- Namjoon is on the second floor of your house and Yoongi takes the stairs two at a time. Folding laundry in what will one day be the nursery for your child. He’s taken the ultrasound up here now- hung it up so he can look at it. and Yoongi is reminded of A few days ago when he gushed about the development of your child to Yoongi in the kitchen comparing them to the size of a fruit. “a cute little cantaloupe- the cutest little cantaloupe”

- You and Namjoon have made the decision not to find out the gender, but the walls of the nursery are still pained blue, puffy clouds above and little flowers below, dandelions and daisies, a stalwart sunflower that curls over the arch of the door half-finished. Yoongi knows you work on the mural it whenever you can. But Namjoon gets a little paranoid about the fumes- you compromise and keep the windows open along with the door to your balcony to allow as much air circulation as possible.

- The crib, a fluffy white thing is already piled into the corner. And Yoongi remembers the first few weeks here when you and Namjoon had overzealously ordered it. He’d come downstairs after dinner one night and found both of you puzzling over the directions. And he’d shooed Namjoon away as he’d helped you put it together. The three of you ending up giggly and punch drunk tired by the time it was fully put together. And then had to carry it all the way up the stairs.

-A mobile of little felted flowers that Seokjin made you as a thank you present a hangs above the empty Crib- colorful and cute. And Namjoon has set the laundry on the unused changing table in neat stacks. All of the other furniture is piled into the center of the room so that you can paint the walls. He turns when he hears Yoongi, his tail swishing.

- “Hey Yoon- what you get caught in a rainstorm or something?” the rain splatters against the windows with a soft patter and Yoongi drips onto the floor. He never bothered to dry off after the unintentional shower with jimin. Yoongi makes a shrug that means ‘something like that’ and if the younger hybrid hovers on the way that Yoongi’s lips look a little kiss bitten and swollen he doesn’t say a thing. Namjoon knows better than anyone- what they talk about and what they don’t.

- He hands over the slip of paper; “jimin should move into the main house, you and I could clean out one of the storage rooms and move the stuff into the attic.”

- Yoongi watches Namjoon’s eyes rove over the words a few times. The hybrid purses his lips, “I’ve talked to Y/n about this- and she agrees- but I don’t know if he wants too? He seems pretty comfortable in the barns, he likes Taehyung and they’re friends. and we kind of want to leave it up to him if we can.”

- Yoongi snatches the paperback from him, annoyance flickering in his chest as he rolls his eye. Didn’t Namjoon see that nothing would change if they didn’t push him a little? Jimin is the type to take that kind of abuse again and again if it means not making a fuss. And Yoongi knows it’s only a matter of time before something happens again. He turns it over onto the other side and using the wall as a place to write.

- “He’s already being treated differently because of me” 'me' being double underlined- so that Namjoon really understands what he’s trying to say. Yoongi just wants to make sure Jimin is safe before he goes. Before he needs to leave and before it gets too dangerous and too near a time when his owner will physically retrieve him. Not that Namjoon knows that Yoongi’s presence has an expiration date. Namjoon searches Yoongi’s face for a source to his desperation and finds none.

- Yoongi has never felt worse for keeping secrets. Maybe in another world- Yoongi would have confessed and asked Namjoon, with all of his connections to the police, for help. Yoongi knows enough to put the whole crime system out of whack and yet. Years of negative reinforcement and beatings have taught him to keep his mouth shut and that isn’t going to change now; not when Yoongi’s life isn’t the only one at risk and he knows you’ll all live if he plays by the rules. He doesn't care about his own safety anymore.

- The second he sees Yoongi’s distraught expression Namjoon steps closer Taking off his flannel and tugging it around his shoulders. Namjoon might not make moves to scent mark Yoongi but dressing him in his clothes is as good as he gets. Namjoon’s comforting alpha scent fluffs around him.

- Yoongi wonders if jimin feels the pull the same way he does. Dynamics are more mobile in snake hybrids and downright non-existent in humans. but they’re more set in canines. Namjoon puts his hand on Yoongi’s clothed arm and Yoongi shuffles close after a second. His nose centimeters from Namjoon’s neck taking in deep breathes to try and steady himself. He didn’t realize he was shaking.

- “It will be alright Yoongi, I promise. He’s gonna be safe.” Namjoon adds quieter. And below them both- in the first floor of the house, he can hear your voice, echoing louder and laughing at some sort of joke, Namjoon’s tail starts wagging at the suggestion of you. “I want them to feel safe too.”

- Yoongi wants to write “he should take my room- I won’t be staying in it soon anyway.” but Yoongi needs to make sure- before he leaves. Jimin has to be included in your little pack. He doesn’t want to think- about what the three of you will go through when he eventually has to leave. The days are counting down to the end of the summer.

- He’s fucking selfish, so selfish, to kiss Jimin like that when he knows he won't be able to stay in the hybrids life. He’s selfish every time he begs affection off you, every day he keeps Namjoon Company when he’s cleaning up the other barns. Yoongi writing out words in the dust when Namjoon asks him questions. Eyes only searching when Namjoon turns his back. Looking for any sort of hidden compartment. Completing his task even if it’s the last thing he wants to do. Betraying you like this.

- Jimin spends the rest of the day wondering if the kiss with Yoongi was just a dream. But later at dinner, Yoongi won’t meet his eyes, and jimin knows he didn’t imagine the kiss. Guilt sticks to Yoongi, more distracting than honey stuck between your fingertips.

- Both of them go to sleep still thinking about the kiss. Jimin wondering if it will happen again and Yoongi thinking that he’d like it too. His fingers running over his lower and upper lips, mind awash with the memory of jimin’s mouth on his. And night falls heavy like a weighted blanket on the farm. The sky a big sheet with holes poked through for stars. A heavenly breeze tempting away the summer heat.

- All of the hybrids safe and snoring in their beds. Some even paired- if they’ve got it. Two furry bodies packed close on a single bed. Some even dream of homes they mind one day live in or of the people that one day they’ll get to love. The idea of being kept and treasured lulling them into a drowsy haze of anticipation and security.

- That night, Namjoon knocks on Yoongi’s door. the hybrid leaning up against the doorframe as he watches the snake get ready for bed. “you know... you could sleep in our room if you want, we have an air conditioner in there too.” yoongi has a notepad ready, he knows that Namjoon likes to open all the windows and even the door to your balcony to let the fresh air in so that it feels like you're sleeping outside. He steels himself to think of someone other than himself before he writes- “I’m okay- thanks though” Yoongi writes out.

- Namjoon lifts one of Yoongi’s blankets to his neck before he leaves, thoroughly scents marking it before he leaves it with Yoongi. And Yoongi sleeps easy that night with his nose pressed to the blanket. Safe and secure in his room. Nothing bad happens to yoongi that night even though he cuddles close to the blanket, and when he wakes in the morning. his heart beats a steady thumping rhythm- his whole body humming with anticipation.

- It’s different to feel excited about being in love, excited for a day spent close to the people he cares about. And he knows he won't take a single day for granted.

- The crickets and cicadas chirping in the field. And in a low tone on the tree outside, a morning dove gentle and unassuming. The sun rising over the hills. Tastes of idyllic and smells of Eden. Like lavender and honey.

- A hand outstretched, scrambling in the dirt before it goes still, fingers just a few inches from safety. Blood mixing in with the sand. The morning is not perfect for everyone.

- But even you would say the morning was peaceful, if not for the dead body dumped at the end of your driveway.

Kofi

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cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

Guns and Roses (Assassinator Yuta x you)

A quicky imagine scenario i am trying to challenge myself (4 am thoughts)

a/n ; mentions of killing, a killing demand, and much assassinator related. do not follow anything written here, it’s pure fiction and I don’t recommend you to read if those topics do not suit your taste. Mentions of rape, sorry but please do not force yourself to read this.

The theme is a bit dark but it’s basically fluff I guess- idk you name it after reading (just be sure you are not bothered by the warning)

no tags because this theme is sort of the darkest I made (said the girl who tried to make a superm mafia au in wattpad please check them out lol, but anyways it’s me trying new genre tell me if i should stop because this suck)

----

You curled up beside the red-raven haired man laying down on the bed next to yours.

With a wild grin, you crawl on top of his well built strong body and plant a small kiss on his cheek.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

He sighs and opens his eyes “Who do you want dead this time?”

You chuckle, “Do you think I only say that when I need you to kill someone? Am I that cold hearted , Yuta?”

Yuta, the best private assassinator who was first sent to kill you but instead fell for you, gently roll you over his body so you were under him.

“Listen, as much as I hate to admit it, yes you are cold hearted. You asked me to finish a lot of people honey.” his soft gaze falls to your eyes.

Your lips tremble, “So are you not going to help me?”

He closes his eyes one more time and shakes his head, “You shouldn’t mess with this job-”

he taught you on how to be a great assassinator, Yuta saw the potential in your soul when he was ordered to finish you that one cold night. He remembered your fierce bravery to not simply accept death.

“I will go and finish them by myself then-” you blurt out the words with emotion.

Yuta holds your hand and pins you down on the bed before you can leave the bed full of emotion, “Listen, who are they I will finish it for you.” he sounds hopelessly strict but still soft and caring.

You throw your gaze to the other side, “My parents.”

Yuta groans, “Not them, we’ve talked about this.”

You shake your head, “They have tortured me Yuta! They sent you to kill me, just because I- I-” your lips trembled and you cannot finish your sentence.

Yuta quickly falls to your side and pulls you into a hug, he runs a hand through your back and caresses your hair. “You don’t have to talk about it if it only brings pain to you.”

You bite your lips and suck your tears up. “They were ashamed of me, if it was - not for that unfortunate night... It- it was rape! I didn’t want it.” your red eyes look into his calm but painful eyes.

Yuta kisses your temple, “I know, I know it is hard for you...”

“They locked me up in the attic, they pretended I was not their family, they wanted to kill me slowly but because I- I don’t know why I still live with that condition- they sent you to kill me. How can I forgive them?! Shouldn’t they offer me a safe place after that horrible traumatic incident.” your hand slowly hits his sturdy chest constantly.

Yuta remembers clearly the night he was ordered to kill you, he saw your small fragile dying body on the cold street, running an errand to buy some groceries, Yuta thought this was gonna be quick and clean, but he couldn’t bring his finger to pull the trigger when he sees how pained yet afraid you were in the cold lonely world.

So he did what he never even expected himself to do, faked your death and brought you into his secret house. You were trained to protect yourself but Yuta kept maximum security around you.

“They are still your parents, you cannot finish them.” he whispers to your ear.

“I hate them, and I hate you for not allowing me to finish them.”

“No honey, I will never let you! Those clean hands should never have blood on them, even worse your own family’s.” he gently takes your hands into his, giving it a small squeeze and kisses the knuckles lightly.

“I also will not do your wish, you were emotional and you will regret this choice. Trust me, I’ve seen people regret their choices and I don’t want that to happen to you. Now, if you want, I can make you some hot chocolate drinks and we can cuddle for the night.” Yuta pulls you to stand up.

Your face still shows no emotion, but Yuta pulls you up and carries you to the kitchen.

“I know I cannot heal your heart, but I hope this warm chocolate can at least make you feel better tonight.” Yuta stirs the small spoon in the warm glass and hands it to you.

You gulp it down and your tension goes down, you suddenly cry and Yuta lets you have your time. He only sits across you while giving you the tissues to wipe your tears.

Once you don’t have tears left, you look at him and he smiles “Better?”

You nod “Can I go to the beach tomorrow? I want to let my stress out.”

Yuta nods in a heart beat, his hand extends to tuck your hair away from your face “We can! I am free this week.” He lies to you without doubt.

Tonight he actually had to do a task, but seeing you like this made him stay back. After all your safety and feeling come first, he would blame himself if you ever did something so silly both of you will regret.

“Don’t lie, I saw your planner you actually have one tonight.” you speak slowly between hiccups of your sobs.

Yuta smiles “I’ll accompany you to bed and wait for you now until you are calm, then I’ll think of a way. Don’t worry about me.”

Your smile come back to your face just a little but its there “Thank you Yuta, I am glad you stopped me, you’re right I may regret my decisions.”

He leans over to kiss your lips, “I know the feeling darling, don’t hesitate to let your emotions out okay. Now do you want to sleep or you want to do something?”

You pull his hand to follow you to the bed, “Cuddle me please?”

He giggles “One cuddle coming through, my princess.”

“Stop staring,” you say as you yawn while waking up from your deep sleep.

Yuta quirks his eyebrow, “I am not staring.”

You groan “Yes you are not, you’re gawking over me...” you move your body to face him. Judging by how neat his hair is and his body is covered with another tee shirt, you knew Yuta has been awake for long.

“Did you finish it?” You ask

He smiles “I did not do the last task. I resigned from the company, I decided to stoop doing this.”

You want to question him why, but you know he has his own reasons and he will tell you once he is ready. For now, you will just accept his choices, for Yuta is the better one in making choices.

“What are you going to do then?” you look up into his pretty face.

“I will enjoy a break and maybe start my own flower shop.”

You scoff “From assassinator to a florist! You really have many surprises.”

He kisses your lips quick, “Both are sexy, and you know I love flowers.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever, I love you!”

He grins, “Do you want me to make you a bouquet now?”

You laugh, “Did you always associate my i love you with a request of your job?!”

He shrugs his shoulder, ‘I don’t know, you’re hard to understand!”

You flick his head “Say that again and I’ll finish you.”

He rolls over on top of you and his eyes glint with lust “Not before I finish you.” he licks his lips and winks to you.

end

#yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #yuta x you #imagine yuta #yuta fluff #yuta headcanons #yuta drabbles #yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta oneshot #yuta fanfic #nct 127 mafia au #nct 127 imagines #nakamoto yuta imagines

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cupsofsuga · 4 years

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers. I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ 💐} REQUEST - ❝ Can I have the boys reactions to an s/o who show her possessiveness by wearing their clothes ? She's all happy and proud to go to the university or whatever wearing their shirt because " That way everyone will know that I'm yours and you're mine , plus it smells like you 🥺 " ❞

{ ☕️} NOTE - thank you so so much for requesting, dollface!

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

━━━ November’s essence kisses the air of your living room, it’s fierce caress trailing across your skin. You, ever so intelligently, stated with pride that you could handle the cold, regretting the choice as the embers of moonlight trace their fingertips across naked goosebumps. Strolling through the halls of your home, shivering from the sharp wind, you find your bedroom with intentions of retrieving some form of warmth. You discover a grey hoodie, lethargically tossed over a chair. The owner’s identity is quickly exposed, as the sweatshirt descends down your form due to your lover’s broad shoulders. You have now found solace, drowned in the scent of cologne.

Oh, and the blush that blooms beat-red across Jin’s cheeks is a sight you’ll never forget.

Following that occurrence (and the rest of the night spent smothered in your boyfriend’s lily-pure affection), you’ve taken notice of Jin’s not-so-subtle efforts to usher you into wearing his clothes again. At first, it began with leaving articles of clothing in numerous places, but that plan backfired as you silently scolded him under your breath for not tidying up after himself. This strategy escalated into Jin planting his clothes in your drawer’s, then claiming it was an “accident” or "a way to save space.” The red hues painting his ears and the way he avoids eye-contact jeopardizes his weak filter, though. At least you find his everlasting, spring-scented infatuation beneath the facade of damp rain and rotten trees. Be careful, though. If you venture too deep into the depths of Kim Seokjin and you’ll find sights of crimson-stained sins.

❝ God, you have way too much power over me, y’know? I’m always so soft for you, ‘fucking moron. ❞

𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

━━━ The evening mist glides through the brume of your boudoir, where you are embraced by the neglected clothes of your boyfriend like snow sleeping on a pine tree. After a particularly cold night strikes your studio apartment, the empty sheets and abandoned blankets failed to bring the solace of the sweltering summer-warmth your lover possesses. You yearned for Yoongi and the moonlight, the coffee stains, and stormy nights that kiss his form. The rhythmic melody of his gentle voice; the crow’s caress that wanders his skin. And despite his overbearing worry and protectiveness that you’ve brushed off as “concern for your health,” you crave those December eyes and that feeble heart. Fortunately for you, your knight in shining armor didn’t venture too far away. And finding you nestled under numerous covers causes worry to immediately swell within his heart.

His concern is distinctly evident, as his shrill voice of distress invades the midnight breeze. You swear you feel him shiver with dread when he feels how frigid you are when he shakily takes your hand into his. And before you express your refusal to his care, Yoongi vanishes from the bedroom to draw you a bath. If you think he’s exaggerating your discomfort due to the November weather, think again. Your name is then sung into the air, blossoming into the twilight’s brume as you escape the warmth of your bed and stroll to your lover. Before you, you’ll find the hot water adorned in bubbles and flower petals, candles littered around the room (far from the tub, for your safety), melodies of violin and piano reverberating through the area, and the sugary caresses from your Yoongi as the cherry on top. Whilst adorned in the blissful harmony of peace, you can't help but let your mind wander. His worry has always been grand, so grand that you fear his heart may actually stop beating if your safety was ever at stake.

Oh, well, at least he cares. Maybe a little too much.

❝ My Y/N, if you ever, ever need anything, I will always be right here… Always… ❞

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

━━━ Finding your boyfriend nestled under a canopy of your clothing was never a shock, as your scent of cheap whiskey and jasmines beneath the August sun lulled his soul to ease. The sultry high he’s given when inhaling another article of clothing is euphoric, infinite. To breathe in your musk is to find an eternal night beneath the purple rain; to drown in the depths of you is to savor the stars as they breathe out the dust of twilight. There’s a garden that thrives around the simple presence of your fragrance and Hoseok can’t imagine a greater bliss that is your essence. That is until he finds you draped in one of the many sweaters he owns, the red threading like Autumn against your form.

He was always swift to recognize his infatuation, but to know the emotions he immerses himself into are mutual emits a variety of nymphs to tangle themselves with his heartbeat. He feels the rhythms of sunlight as they batter against his ribcage and nothing, nothing is as ecstatic as this.

Twilight has occurred, the moonlight bleeds through the glass panes and hits your eyes ever so elegantly. It reflects a soft radiance as if the moon was swimming in your irises. You are beautiful, lying on the couch with his sweater on like a stray cat who will soon vanish into the arms of the night. It was no secret that Hoseok adored seeing you in his clothes, as his boisterous admiration morphed into suffocating infatuation. There was even a time where you reached into the pocket of his sweater during class and find a folded piece of paper containing a sweet note (that was just a tad bit creepy) along with doodles of hearts, flowers, cats, and dogs. Hoseok's love may cut deep with its shattered-lily touch, but it is entirely pure. Despite the obsession seeping through his affections, he loves you more than you could ever possibly know.

❝ Hey, isn’t it crazy how after all this time, you still manage to give me so many butterflies? I… I think I’m gonna love you forever… ❞

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

━━━ You anticipate for your lover to return to your home, stumbling around the adobe in utter boredom. Although this lifeless night is all too dull, you notice how the penthouse you wander around resembles a palace. With its crystalline chandeliers and marble tiles, its paradisiac view of the city that never sleeps and melodies of chefs and maids rustling around the residence. Through the lavish estate, you find the bedroom, embellished in opulent riches of all kinds. Then, there’s the closet, decked out to the brim in treasures of Gucci, Chanel, and Prada. There’s jewelry, bags, shoes, nearly every single article of clothing an item you couldn’t dream of affording in your past, mundane life. Your eyes settle on a blazer, exquisitely threaded with the finest of silks nestled deep within the closet.

The coat is a tad bit too large for your form, but you believe it fits you like a glove. And despite there being a faint stain of spilled champagne on the sleeve, coming home to his summer sunset wearing his attire like its armor, Namjoon has never tasted bliss as divine as this.

The skies once painted baby blue morph into the dark hues of twilight. Night has come, euphoria has been found within the tendrils of your hair on his chest and the littering of bubblegum-pink kisses across your skin. For reasons Namjoon can’t define, seeing you in his clothes causes his heart to tremble and plummet. There’s this sudden veil of exhilaration, like a July night spent with your record collection and red wine. It’s an enchantment that aches deep within his chest, where the desire to submerge you in his affections burns within his heart. He gazes at your now sleeping form, naming off every detail of you that he loves so much like he’s counting dollar bills in his hands. His moonlight’s essence, his lavender’s breath, his garden full of violets. You have taught him how to live without rain and he can’t gift you enough gratitude for this blessing. But, just don’t be surprised when you find your closet covered in dust. You’re only allowed to wear his clothes from now on.

❝ Damn, blue is an outstanding color on you. Maybe that should be the color for our wedding… Wait- shit! I-I-I didn’t say anything! ❞

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

━━━ Upon the surface of your bed, the voice of rain trembles against the thin roof above you. Tree branches sway with the heavy wind, lightning lashes like a whip against the evening floor. You feel the nightly embrace of bitter inclemency, as the earthly musk swims around the bedroom. Despite finally having a night alone, you notice yourself longing for the tumultuous warmth of your lover. A single night spent in isolation, Jimin didn’t take it lightly. After all, what is life without the iridescence of a Summer’s kiss? How can he breathe without immersing himself within the depths of his angel’s orchestra? You can assume what thoughts of hunger are rumbling through the boy’s mind, but you are oblivious to the saturated sound of Jimin weeping into his cold flesh.

You retrieve one of his sweaters in the meantime, inhaling his fragile scent of honey and moonflowers. He must be adorned in several layers of just your clothes, you joke to yourself. The enchantment of the rain’s melody and the fragrance of your boyfriend then lulls you into slumber, to where you then awake the following morning to dawn painting the optimistic face of Jimin.

Finding you in his sweater, knowing you had missed him, he had blushed like a tomato ready to harvest, that confident and broad facade melting like ice cream, to where he became a sugary puddle of flowering feelings and summer velvet. He looked like a young schoolboy who had received a love letter in his locker, as the blood of Aphrodite paints his cheeks rosy and utter bewitchment has him smiling like a lovestruck idiot. As you then regain consciousness, you are then smothered in Jimin’s affections. He kisses you everywhere wild as if leaving a single inch of skin unloved would kill him. He’ll even go as far as to order a shirt that reads “JIMIN + Y/N 5EVER” or just straight-up purchasing a conjoined sweater, so you’ll never be separated ever again. It is insane how infatuated he is, yes, but there is not a single soul within our universe that could cherish you as utterly as he does. And Jimin will walk with that fact to the grave.

❝ Ngh! No, don’t leave! Stay in bed, just for a couple more minutes! Maybe even a couple more hours, please…? A couple days…? ❞

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

━━━ October has bloomed, the saturated leaves are painted damp as rain kisses the earth below. You have lost track of the months settled within the isolated cottage, but enough time has been spent for your new boyfriend to grant you the privilege of taking a hike (with his presence alongside yours, of course). To stay warm within the frigid weather, you encounter one of Taehyung’s sweaters, arm sleeve hung over the side of the hamper. As the clothing sits on your form, you immerse yourself in the expensive musk of your lover. He smells like a century spent in the clouds with peaches and fairies; he smells like Autumn as pumpkin pie and Halloween nights essence dances with the ghosts in the attic. It is ethereal the way summer’s affection seems to litter the fragrance he dresses with.

Upon seeing you standing beneath the rickety door frame, adorned in his moss-colored sweater, Taehyung had blushed with utter joy and bewilderment. He had nearly dropped the midnight-black umbrella in his hands, stunned upon witnessing you in attire as mere as his coat.

After a stroll through the empty fields beneath the rainfall (and hearing the shutter of a camera for the umpteenth time), you retreat to your humble adobe. The following night is spent in blissful harmony, where you’ll sleep beneath the canopy of stars, locked within his daisy-chain embrace. You are his scarlet kingdom, his summer’s honey, his garden adorned in fineries such as nymphs and emeralds and birdsong. As dawn blossoms in the sky, you awake alone within silken sheets, the revelation peculiar. As you regain consciousness and study the sunlit bedroom, you find Taehyung’s clothes folded neatly on the end of the bed, drenched heavily in cologne. You nearly cough from the intensity, studying the note rested on top, where your partner exclaims he needed to run for groceries in calligraphy. Besides this note, however, is a necklace with a vial swung upon the string. With closer inspection, you come to the horrifying conclusion that the crimson fluid within the glass was his blood. You now shall never be apart again, not with Taehyung right beside your beating heart.

❝ Oh, Y/N, to spent everyday with you like this, it’s like everything I’ve lost has returned home to me. You truly are a blessing, my love… ❞

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

━━━ It is a muggy Wednesday morning, where fog coats the floor of dawn, and the dense breeze embraces the earth’s redolence. Today is frigid, as the embers of the piercing winds kiss your honeyed skin. You can’t help but long for Summer to return home, where the sky turns pink in its sugary excellence and where you’ll find youthful infatuation on the curb of Cherry Street, like two poodles whose leashes have entangled beneath the Eiffel Tower. With philosophies of sweltering fantasies, you clutch a leather jacket, oblivious to its owner. Into the grey forest of high school, you’ll find every fragment of boredom known to mankind. But, throughout the dull conditions, at least you have your Jungkook.

Catching sight of you in his jacket causes a heavenly glow to inflate his heart, the essence of clouds and angel’s tears scattering his soul. It feeds into his possessiveness as if he was marking you with his scent, claiming you like a wolf would with his mate.

From thereon, you take notice of Jungkook’s subtle efforts to indulge you within his scent. His affections morphed from shy, rosy-pink compliments to physical touches, as if clasping onto you would drown out the musk of all those heathens you call “friends.” Your scent of moonlit harmonies and dusk in California had since dissolved into his scent of melting chocolate and cigarette smoke. His possessive tendencies may be extreme (like that time he snuck into your closet at 4 in the morning and perfumed every article of clothing with his cologne), but his intentions are ever so pure. You are his siren song, his sunset gaze, his purple rain. You are everything to this boy, with galaxies burning within your chest and distant realities snaking their way through your soul. Within the heart of Jeon Jungkook, you live inside Eden's garden, crafted just for you. And there’s only so much time before he scoops you into his embrace and never let's go.

❝ … You smell different… Who is it? Who have you been talking to? What is that blonde I always see you with? I swear, I’ll gouge out his eyeballs with a plastic spoon and force him to eat them!! ❞

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tbtssstuff · 4 years

Text

Back In Time || myg 2

+RE-POST+

Summary: While helping your boyfriend research his ancestry you find a very old looking book. Curiosity gets the best of you and you open it, a flash of light sucks you into a world you’d never seen before. Now with a man who looks exactly like your boyfriend you have to find a way home.

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Time Traveler!au,Angst,Fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

AN: Chapter 2 bby! Sorry the word count is a lot shorter on this one, but I thought it was a good place to end the chapter. I’m working on Chapter 3 now.

-TJ/ TacoAdmin 🌮

Time seemed to slow down as you met Yoongi’s eyes. They went from shock, to recognition, to irritation, and then he avoided you gaze all together, opting to rake them all over your body.

Before you could even get a word out, Yoongi quickly turned and slammed the door shut, though you definitely saw his cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink.

You wanted to feel embarrassed and you should have, but all you were feeling were the butterflies in your stomach and a small sense of pride knowing that no matter what Yoongi you encountered, he was still the same.

What? No you shouldn’t be thinking that! That man may look and share the same name as Yoongi, but he isn’t your Yoongi. You really didn’t know who he was.

Quickly you put on the new shirt and pants and opened the door, not really surprised when all eyes were on you. Taehyung was smirking, obvious that he had seen you, while Hoseok and Yoongi were talking. Well Hoseok was talking while Yoongi seemed to brood quietly, glaring at him.

“Jungkook said she needed help and I think we should help her.”

“Who died and made you ruler?”

“Yoongi come on, have some kind of compassion.”

“We are trying to take down a tyrant, Hoseok, not babysit some kid.”

Well that hurt. They did realize you could hear them right? Yoongi and Hoseok seemed to have another silent mind conversation before Yoongi sighed and turned to you.

The two of you just stared at each other. No words were exchanged and after five minutes of that it was getting really awkward, but it seemed like he was waiting for you to speak first.

What were you supposed to say?

‘Oh hey guys! My name is Y/n and while at the library with my boyfriend, who just so happens to share the same name and look like your boss, I was sucked into a book and seemed to have been thrown into either an alternate universe or back in time! Will you help me return? Oh and I have no idea how TO return.’

Yeah like that would make a lot of sense, they would definitely throw you in some kind of loony bin.

You opened your mouth, but Yoongi was quick to cut you off.

“Wait, are those my clothes?” Yoongi shot another glare at Hoseok, then made his way over to you, grabbing the sleeve of the jacket.

Now that Yoongi was up close you could see that he was identical to your Yoongi back home. This whole thing was crazy.

“Well yeah they are yours.” Hoseok rolled his eye before making his way over to you and Yoongi, not so nicely yanking Yoongi’s hand off the jacket, “Your clothes are the only ones that would actually fit her without swallowing her whole.”

“What about Yoona’s?”

“When have you ever known her to share her clothes? Plus...” Hoseok paused and looked between you and Yoongi. It was obvious he wanted to say something, but didn’t want to offend either you or Yoongi.

“Plus what?” Yoongi growled.

Hoseok licked his lips and thought for only a second before deciding that not saying it was a lot worse than saying it.

“It’s just that Yoona and her have different...” He paused again and part of you really wished he would just spit it out already. “Different attributes if you know what I mean. She wouldn’t be able to fit into her clothes.”

Attributes? What was he talking about?

You glanced over to where Yoona was standing, only to find she was already looking in your direction, angry eyes shifting from you to Yoongi’s hand, which one of itself made you upset. What gave her the right to glare at you like you were some woman trying to steal her man? Rude.

But then you saw just what Hoseok was talking about. Yoona was curvy and filled out very nicely.

You looked down at your own body, which you couldn’t really see to its full extent because of Yoongi’s shirt and pants, and felt a little self conscious.

Yeah you weren’t the curviest woman out there and you were usually very confident with your looks, but with Yoona looking at Yoongi how you usually do made your stomach twist.

Yoongi nodded and looked over to Yoona as well, eyes softening when he saw the harshness of her stair. That look made your stomach twist even further. You knew that look all too well.

It was how your Yoongi looks at you. As if you were his entire world and he would do anything for you.

You felt sick.

Of course it made sense for Yoongi to have fallen in love with another person in a world that you didn’t exist in. So why did a small part of you hope that, until he found this world's version of you, he would have waited?

That was stupid.

You felt stupid.

And a little woozy.

The room started spinning around you and before you knew it you fell to the ground, black surrounding your sight. The last thing you heard was Hoseok yell and you felt strong arms catch you before completely knocking out.

Yoongi was distracted trying to calm Yoona down, but when he heard Hoseok yell and saw you start to fall out of the corner of his eye, he was quick to respond, quickly spinning around to catch you in his arms.

“What happened?!” Taehyung rushed over to get a closer look.

Yoongi shrugged. He really didn’t know what happened, but he was getting kind of worried and didn’t know why. He didn’t know this girl and she seemed to be following him everywhere, which in of itself was annoying. So why when she fainted Yoongi felt the sudden urge to protect her?

Hoseok moved towards them, probably to take you from Yoongi’s arms and get you proper care, but Yoongi had beat him to it, hooking his arms under your legs and picking you up, holding you close to his chest. Without saying a word, Yoongi turned and went back into his room.

He placed you gently on the bed. Almost as if he was too rough he would break you somehow.

You seemed so fragile right now and he didn’t know what to do or how to deal with this feeling in the back of his mind. Yoongi took one of the thinner blankets, knowing it was scorching hot now, but when night came it would be freezing, and covered your sleeping form.

He reached out to move your hair out of your face.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi froze.

Yoona leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, with a harsh look on her face. Yoongi knew she got jealous easily and honestly it was the worst part of being with her, not that he had much of a choice to begin with.

Yoona’s father had recruited Yoongi months back. He knew that Yoongi was the king’s twin brother and was the rightful heir to the throne, but was casted out when he and his brother got into a heated battle and marked one another.

Yoona’s father knew Yoongi had the brain and the drive to take the king down.

But sadly he was not.

Her father was caught attempting to sneak into the palace late one night and was beheaded in front of everyone. The king said he was ‘using this as a warning to those who oppose him’ but Yoongi knew better. His brother was blood thirsty and there was never enough to satisfy him.

Left all alone, Yoona found comfort in Yoongi and he felt that he couldn’t abandon her too. Not after what her father did for him and the cause he died for.

Yoongi stepped away from you, tucking his hand in his jacket pockets, rolling his eyes as he made his way past Yoona and into the main room only to find everyone had left.

“I’m shocked at the level of kindness you are giving her. You are only ever that nice to me and I have to force it out of you.” He could hear the pout in Yoona’s voice. It was a tactic she used when she was upset with him, knowing he hated it when she pouted and moped around, and she was trying to get his attention.

Yoongi shrugged, making his way over to the operation table, eyeing it wearily. He knew the time to attack was soon and he really couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Not by Yoona and certainly not by the girl asleep in his room.

His mind wandered back to you. How smooth your skin looked, how lost you looked, how good you smelled when you were close to him, and just how good you looked in his clothes. It was almost like they were meant for you to wear.

It also pissed him off how distracted you made him and he didn’t even know your name!

Arms wrapped around Yoongi’s waist, a body pressed to his back and for a moment he thought it was you, but was quickly proven wrong.

Yoona kissed his shoulder before resting her face on his back.

“You still love me right?” She asked.

No.

“Of course I do.” Yoongi answered back.

Tag List @mizz-kraziii @queen-of--roses @ugly-wall-flower @flowersgirl02 @sunshine-procrastinate @dulcaet @yoongiwillforgiveme @multifandomfantasychild @midaribaby @missingin4ction @gabbien @angiexyoung

#bts scenarios #bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #daechwita #d2 #king!yoongi #rebel!yoongi #bts imagines #bts reactions #tbtsstuff #tacoadmin #Back In Time

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roachmattea · 3 years

Note

Sobiana Dorothea au????

HELL YES

Summary: Sophie has a simple job, a simple life, but her ex has risen to become a ‘viral’ philanthropist. Sophie reflects on her relationship with her. (basically: sophie is very gay and biana ie very rich. yearning. lots of it.)

do you ever stop and think about me? - sophiana, but it’s mostly just sophie yearning. 1.3k

ao3 link

Sophie turned on her tv as soon as she got home from her job, as usual.

Her heart skipped when she saw what was on. She didn’t know why she had expected something else.

She’d seen all the magazines at work today. Everyone in her (admittedly small) friend group had talked only of it at lunch; in hushed tones, of course. No one talked to her about it. No, they must’ve assumed she was too fragile for conversations about her ex.

Her rich, charity making, dream selling ex.

I can handle it. It’s not like I'm still that crying schoolgirl.

Ignoring the shaking in her shoulders, she unmuted the tv.

“...Biana Vacker, founder of the Moonlark charity. Kelly, don’t you think it’s incredible what she has accomplished? A project to help, house, and feed children in need! I am shocked she has come this far, being so young and all.”

A sharp stab of anger flared inside of Sophie, distracting her from the crushing feeling in her heart. How dare they question her accomplishments? She’s done this all on her own. She deserves so much more than these people.

But, however much she disliked the way these hosts talked about Biana, she still wanted to see. She wanted to see her.

“...And now we have the woman herself!” The stage audience claps, and Sophie freezes.

She was as beautiful as ever. She wore a stunning dark purple dress that perfectly complimented her dark skin tone and a yellow ribbon amongst her curly hair.

Biana made her way onto the stage, and turned and smiled and waved at the camera, blowing a kiss, and a small wink.

Sophie blushed.

“Miss Vacker, it is such an honour to have you on the show today!”

“Thank you so much, the honour is mine!” She brushed a small part of hair that had escaped the ribbon behind her ear, but it just popped back out again. Biana giggled.

She used to laugh like that with me.

Sophie didn’t realize how hard she had been squeezing the remote until Kelly started talking again.

“So, Biana, we were just discussing how amazing it is that you’ve come so far in this industry, especially so young!”

“Oh, I didn’t do it alone! My incredible friends helped me so much, and I would love to thank them, particularly-” Sophie shut the tv off before she could hear any more.

Hands shaking, she hurried upstairs to her bedroom.

She sat down on her bed, brushing her fingers across her faux fur pillows to calm herself down.

They’re right, i suppose. She thinks of her friends. I am too weak to talk about her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots her box.

The box.

Their box.

Sophie took a few deep breaths, before walking across the room and grabbing the box.

Once she was back seated on her bed, she gently ran her fingers over the top of the box. It was covered in peeling stickers, polaroids, and writing.

In her scrawl, it read: “Sophie”, and in Biana’s beautiful script, “+ Biana’s memory box” with a little heart at the end. She carefully lifted the top off of the box.

Inside, there were photo booth strips, pressed flowers, Biana’s origami birds, and the letters.

Oh.

The letters.

Not particularly thinking about the emotional damage it may cause, Sophie unfolded the first letter.

“My Dearest Sophie,” it read.

“We arrived at Mom’s cottage today! Fitz is utterly bored, but he knows nothing of the woodlands here! I found a bunch of mushrooms, and many types of moss on the trees!

I also found a truly beautiful clearing (or it would have been beautiful, if it were not full of dying chrysanthemums!) behind the cottage. Mom said that the people that lived here before were extremely fond of the chrysanthemums, but she had never really liked them herself.

I was obviously horrified, so I took to caring for them myself! It gave me great sorrow to cut this one, but I told myself it was for the greatest cause ever.”

Pinned below was a dried, pressed, red chrysanthemum.

“Sophie, dear, I have been reading up on the language of flowers. Everyone says that roses are the flowers of love, and they are! but chrysanthemums are the only ones that mean ‘I love you’.

~ Biana.”

Sophie sat there, for a little while, in silence.

And then the tears came.

She shook, covering her mouth, as to make no sound.

It took her a few hours to calm down, but when she did, she made her way downstairs, and made herself some tea.

Spiced tea. Herbal tea. Biana liked-

No. You will not do this to yourself, Sophie. focus.

Long story short: she did it to herself.

She soon found herself back upstairs, the contents of the box spread all over her bed.

She had met Biana at a football game she had been convinced to go to by her friend Keefe. (Though in all fairness, Keefe only went to watch Fitz play.)

Biana had been hiding under the bleachers, avoiding the players at all cost.

“Hey, why are you down here?” Sophie had asked. (she had spotted Biana down there when she had gotten up to stretch her legs.) She kind of found it hard to start a conversation, though. Very pretty girl and all that.

“Oh, you know.” Biana shivered, she was only wearing a dress, and it didn’t even have substantial sleeves. “Avoiding the boys. Apparently, they can’t take no for an answer.”

“Oh,” Sophie said. “I’m sorry. Um, do you want my jacket? Actually, no, that’s not a question. here, take my jacket.” When Biana opened her mouth to object, Sophie quickly said, “I have a hoodie underneath anyway. I guess Keefe overestimated how cold it would be.”

Biana laughed, and took the jacket gratefully. “Well, I suppose I underestimated, then. Thank you!, Uh, for the jacket. What’s your name? I’m Biana.”

PrettygirlwantstoknowmynamePrettygirlwantstoknowmynamePrettygirlwantstoknowmyname- “I’m Sophie,” she managed to say.

“Well, Sophie, I have a feeling I’m going to be here awhile. And I don’t think Keefe and Fitz are going to be in a hurry soo…”

“...So?”

“You’ve been to our house before, haven’t you?”

Sophie shrugged. “Yeah, once or twice to help Keefe and Fitz make some posters. Why?”

Biana grinned. “Would you like to go and have some herbal tea with me?” She squints playfully at Sophie. “Or…are you more of a hot chocolate person? We have that too!” She got up from where she had been sitting on the ground.

Sophie couldn’t help laughing at this girl’s energy. “Sure,”

Biana beamed. “...Maybe I could braid your hair as well? I know quite a few, and your hair is pretty long, so-”

“Uh, yeah! That’d be really cool!” Sophie smiled dorkily.

“Well, what are we waiting for, then?” Biana looped her arm through Sophie’s.

Sophie sighed, her dramatic flashback coming to a close.

She slowly started to put the assorted letters and trinkets, finally coming back to the red chrysanthemum.

It’s the only one that says ‘I love you’.

She stuffs it in messily with the rest, then shoves the box under her bed.

A buzz from her phone startles her. Oh, it’s just Keefe.

She quickly responds to him, and then exits back into her contacts.

She scrolled down her text chains, down, down and down until-

There.

She hadn’t even changed her contact name.

Bia 💜

Sophie opened the chat.

Her fingers hovered over her keypad for several seconds.

She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Do you ever stop, and think about me?

Because I do. I think about you every fucking day. And it kills me. It kills me, Bia.

A few minutes later, she closed the chat.

Later, she found herself strangely wishing there was a red chrysanthemum emoji.

#tw swearing #amelia's writing #hEY I LIKE THIS #i wrote this SO FAST #interaction with amelia #sobiana #sophiana #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc fic #sophie x biana #biana x sophie

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alleycatmimi · 4 years

Text

ઽρѳ¡ℓ૯∂ в૨ατ🍷

──────────

Kim Taehyung × reader

daddy!au

CEO!au

↬Genre: SMUT!, daddy/kitten, bdsm, themes, hard dom!taehyung, sub!reader, ceo!au;

↬WARNINGS: BDSM, spitting, cum eating (fem), spanking, eating out, over stimulation, DEGRADATION, slightly slapping, daddy/kitten kink, humilating names, Taehyung being a HARD DOM, submissive reader, swearing, unprotected sex (USE PROTECTION, U FUCKERS), fingers suck, ice play, breeding, creampie, Taehyung making you take it all like a good girl;

↬Words count: 4k+ ;

↬Description: What do you do when your boyfriend is a CEO and you are mad on him? Steal his Black Card and buy something you'll tease him later with.

◆━━━━━━◆❃◆━━━━━━◆

When you woke up this morning, got out of your puffy and comfy bed, dressed yourself into a smooth satin bath-robe, to go to your princess-like bathroom, where you've done your daily routine: taking a long, warm and full of aromatic bath bombs and shower gels bath, then applied your- so expensive- body care and finally dressed up to come see your boyfriend, didn't actually expect this is how your day will go.

Sitting in his office, the picnic basket you prepared for you two, thinking you will make him a really special and beautiful surprise for showing in his office, dressed into a cute and short dress which you knew he would like on you, resting on your arm, you were watching his secretary wiggling her slutty ass in front of him, while acting like picking up some files, from the clean floor tiles.

Kim Taehyung, one of the biggest CEO's this world-no, this galaxy had. A really handsome, determinated, imposing, smart, talented, stunning, kind hearted, tall, powerful and rich man. And it happened for him to be your beloved boyfriend, which was staring at his secretary ass, with a deep frown on his face, right in front of your eyes.

That's right, he didn't notice your presence yet, but you are boiling anyway. What is yours is yours and this man is DEFINETLY yours. You cleared your throat, both of them turning around to face you, the second they heard you. Taehyung eyes widened in shook to see you in his office. First, because you looked smashing and second because he knew the posture you catched him in wasn't, actually, a happy one.

As for his secretary, she was shameless smirking at you, staring straight into your eyes. "Good afternoon, miss Y/N!" she said with a forced and fake, sweet tone. You ignored her and faced Taehyung, which was scanning you from head to toe, licking his lips.

You almost rolled your eyes in annoyance. "Princess?" you heard his smooth, but deep voice. You were about to scoff, but you didn't want to show weakness in front of that bitch, who was still daring to stare at him.

"Leave us alone, Stephanie!" you demanded, on a cold, unfriendly tone. Her eyes widened in shook, but she didn't move from her place, staring at your man, who had his eyes only on you, like he should .

"I told you to get out, what are you waiting for?" you asked in annoyence, your eyes never leaving Taehyung's ones. "I don't take orders from you!" she finally said, which made you turn on your heels and stare at her. "Excuse me? I couldn't hear you?"you were so pissed off. "I only take orders from - " but you cut her off. "If I tell you to leave, you are leaving. If I tell you to stay, you stay. If I tell you to find another man to try on seducing, you will. Because this one is fucking taken. By me." you explained to her and showed her an engagement looking like ring, which you mentally thanked yourself for putting on this morning.

She nodded when she saw the "engagement" ring, bowed for you two and left the office, with a low face. Rolling your shoulders, you turned around to face the CEO. He cocked a brow at you, amusement seen on his face. "Engaged?" he asked.

You rolled your eyes. "What are you doing here, my princess?" he stared down your arm, his gaze fixed on the picnic basket. He smiled then and you swore you are gonna forget why you were mad on him if he keeps on being this beautiful. "Princess came to see her daddy? What do you have there, baby? Let daddy see."

You put the basket on his dark wooden, rigide table, a little too harsh than you initialy planned. "Here." you said and stared at him with a puzzled face. "What is it, baby?" he titled his head, trying to understand you. "Food. I prepared a picnic for us two." your tone was cold.

Taehyung's smile grew bigger and you had to look away so you won't lose your mind. "Oh! Such a good girl I have!" He swore he is the luckiest man alive. You tried to not blush, because you wanted to stay mad on him. "Let's go eat, princess."

"No."

"Pardon?" he titled his head, piercing you with his narrowed eyes. "No, you eat. I don't want to eat with you anymore, I want to go shopping." And with that you took his famous black credit card, out of his expensive leather wallet. "Have fun eating alone. Or you are lucky and maybe Stephanie is hungry too. For something else, away of your dick." you offered him your sarcasm. You didn't care anymore if he will get mad or not for you talking back to him, disrespecting your daddy, you just got out of his office, making sure to wiggle your ass while walking, your dress contouring it well.

You spent your day buying the most expensive dresses, shoes and underwear you saw and liked, not caring how much they cost, you were mad and wanted to give him a lesson. He won't mind anyway, he always spoils you in expensive stuff, treating you exactly like a princess, so you are sure he won't care about the money.

You got out of your last model, expensive, white Jeep, with your arms full of bags from the most expansive house brands. As you unlocked your house's gate, by your finger print, you passed your beautiful garden. Usually you would admire the beautiful flowers the Spring came with, but right now you were planning on something and you didn't have enough time until Taehyung will come back home.

You opened your the door with your foot, arms to busy with the bags and closed it by pushing your ass on it. Your stilettos making broken sounds on your house's tiles. Going straight to your room, you put the black credit card on the table, got out your new acquisition from the expansive bags and careful put them in your closet.

You traced the lines of a new lingerie, from a beautiful, black, square box, sogned Victoria's Secret. You smirked to yourself and went to your huge bathroom, where you prepared.

◆━━━━━━◆❃◆━━━━━━◆

Coming back home, Taehyung was only thinking about how he will teach you a lesson for being such a disrespectful girl to him, earlier that day. He loosened his tie, cracking his neck twice, thinking about how he will totally use your pretty holes just for him to fuck his angriness and stresse, caused of work, into them. He could feel a bulge already growing into his pants.

Arriving home, he opened the gate with his spare keys and headed directly to the front door and straight to your room, where he opened the door, banging it on the wall.

And there you were, wearing a beautiful pair of lingerie, slowly sipping from a glass of wine, with your red painted lips. He could take you there and then, ravaging you. But no... he wanted to make you pay for leaving him to eat alone and talking back to him.

"Hi daddy." you said, on a sweet and smooth tone, putting the glass on the night stand, with a gentle and delicate move. He watched your long legs slowly making way out of bed, your delicate feet, touching the carpet. Oh, how much he loved every detail of you...

You came closer and slowly touched his chest, moving your hands up to it, circling his neck and finally finding place in his hair. He clenched his jaw. "What happened, daddy?" you asked, rising your chin to look at him. You gasped when his firm, veiny hand wraped around your fragile neck into a tight hold. But you loved the feeling, sending a fave of heat down your core. He got closer, his eyes piercing yours.

"What happened? What happened?! Let me tell you what happened, kitten!" he said through his clenched teeth and pressed you on the wall behind you. He pressed his body on yours, his breath so close of your rose cheek, tickling the skin of it, making you almost whimper.

"Do you think you can show into my office dressed so pretty, take my card and then leave me alone?! Huh?! And even be disrespectful to me?!" he said and cupped your heat, out of suddent. Realisation hit you and you gasped, when you felt his cold hand between your tighs, even through the thin matterial of your panties.

"Already wet for me, huh?" he smirked and you looked away, blushing. "Where is the disrespectful girl now, huh?" he said and choked you harder, while his other hand pressed more, right between your folds.

"S-she's gone, d-daddy."

Taehyung tsked. "Oh she's gone now? Why, kitten? Tell me, tell daddy why." He said and let go of your heat, which earned a whine for you of the lose. "I...daddy..." you started, suddently blushing. Your plan was to tease him and show him you are the best he will ever have, but damn, he was too imposing and you were a sucker for him.

"I am listening." he said, eyes never leaving yours, hand still wrapped firmly around your neck. "I...am sorry, daddy. I was a bad girl, I didn't know what I was saying- " but he wasn't listening to you.

"Huh? Did you say something?" you thought he teased. But he was serious, titling his head, leaving you confused. "I was saying that- " but he cut you off. "I can't hear you, doll. A kitten like you should know her place, at her master's feet." Realisation hit you. Your cheeks heated up as you nodded and imediately obbeied to him, getting in all fours in front of him. His smirk grew bigger. "What were you saying, kitten?"

You took a deep breath and started again. "Daddy. I am so sorry for being a bad girl and talking back to you. Please forgive me daddy, I was a bad girl." You were giving him puppy eyes, trying to be as sweet as possible. "Yes you were." He said and cupped your jaw, with a firm hold."Go take your leash" he demanded you and you got up obeying him.

A loud sound filled the room, followed by a whimper from you, by the time his hand touched your ass cheek, into a hard spank over your skin. "Do kittens walk like humans?!" he growled. "N-No, daddy..." you said and got in all fours, crawling to the closet to get the leash and collar from the sex toys box he bought for playing with you, secretly enjoying the feeling of the burn on your ass cheek.

You turned to him with them into your mouth, he was staring at you with a huge smirk on his face. You left them at his feet and stroked your cheek on his ankle, in need for some affection. "Good girl. Now continue." You nodded your head and looked up at him. "I am sorry for getting your card, daddy. Without asking for permission." He fixed the collar and the leash on you, holding the end of it with his left hand, lifting your chin up with the other one. He caressed your lips with his thumb and you closed your eyes of the feeling, until he harshly pushed it into your mouth, without a warning. You whimpered and sucked it, without him telling you to.

"What were you doing with my credit card, brat?" His voice was low and deep. You tried to get his finger out to talk, but he kept you still. "Dadsy cwnr tak-" you mumbbled, whimpering when his thumb pressed on your tongue, caressing it.

"Oh baby, you can't talk?" He faked his affection, with an amused tone. You shook your head. "So you are not answering to daddy, disobeying again, huh?" Your eyes widened in shook when he pulled your hair with the leash hand, making you stare at him. You shook your head. "Were you shopping? Spending money on your bratty expensive ass? Got this slutty lingerie for me?" You nodded every time, his hand tightening around your hair, you whimpered once more. "Get the receipt to me, slutty kitten."

You tried to nod, but couldn't with his hand in your hair, nor talk with his thumb in your mouth so you shameless moaned. "Pathetic." He said and let go of you. You crawled and took the receipt as you did with the leash and collar. He went to the bed, where he sat on, pulling you with him, by the leash. "Sit!" He demanded and you did so. He looked through the prices and shook his head. "Such a spoiled kitten you are..." he smirked and pulled you into his lap, on stomach. You gasped in shook, but your stomach flipped with excitment.

"You should be teached a lesson. Hands at your back, my little whore." You did as he said so. Next thing you knew, he ripped off your expansive panties. You whined and he smirked, once more. "Don't worry, little whore, daddy's gonna buy you many of these."he announced and stared to caress your ass.

"Count for me." You wanted to reply but a loud smack filled the room, you jumped in place. "O-one"

Smack.

"T-two"

Smack.

"T-Three..." every smack was harder and harder, he was finally letting his anger out.

Smack!

"F-four- ah fuck!" You said and tried to make yourself a ball, but he threw one of his tighs over the back of your knees, imobilising you. "Take it all, whore." He hissed into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. After ten smacks, your ass was fully red and sore and you were breathing hard.

He then pulled your hair again, throwing your head back. "Tell me kitten, why do I punish you right now?" he was so hot. You gulped "f-for being a bad girl, daddy...". He seemed to be pleased with your answer "Good. Now I want you to get on bed, ass up like a good kitten,for daddy to see your pretty cunt, yeah?" You nodded in excitment and did as you were told to, bruisy ass fully on display, glisstering pussy tempting him to fuck you. But that had to wait, because right now, he had other plans.

"Shake your ass for me, sweetheart". You obeied him once more, wiggling your ass in front of him. Then without expecting, you were pushed down on bed, Taehyung's face burried into your wet pussy. A loud moan escaped your lips, as he started sucking hard on your sensitive clit, enjoying the softness of it. "Mmm... sweet" he informed you. Then he started lapping at your wetness, eating you out like a starved man, teasing your sweet hole with his skilled tongue, circling it but never entering it all, leaving it clenching around nothing and moving his tongue to give your folds and clit multiple licks.

You were so close, your moanings filling the walls, but you knew he is not gonna let you cum, at least not yet. But he was making it so hard because when he pushed his long tongue into your warm hole, all at once, your body almost jerked in front, if it wasn't for his firm hold around your ass cheeks, keeping you opened for himself.

"Mgh...d-daddy.." you were pathetically moaning his name over and over again. If you weren't so lost into the feeling of his tongue moving inside your cunt, caresing your walls, you would feel him smirking against your heat. Another spanck filled the room, same time with a deeper push of his tongue. You almost screamed in pain in pleasure, because he spanked a bruise he left on you. But he didn't caress your abused cheek but only srubbed it with his nails, sending you pver the edge, with a muffled cry, tears fillinng up your vision.

But he sensed you were about to cum so, after a long and hard suck on your pussy, while your body was trembling from the need or releasing, he got up and pulled your hair harsh, snapping your head back, to look at him. "Oh kitten, look at yourself, drolling and crying over my pillow. Poor baby... you are so dirty." But his expression was saying something else. He enjoyed it, he enjoyed how fucked up he got you and it took only his tongue and some spanking to turn you like this.

You whimpered, needy." What happened, whore? Cat got your tongue?" Then he laughed on his own joke, a low, hoarse, hot laugh. You shooked your head. "Then? What is it with you and whimpering? Is this all what you know to do?" You shooked your head and he chuckled. A dark one.

"Stick it out then and prove me." You sticked your tongue out, blushing harder. He licked his lips. "Look such a pretty and pink tongue we have here, babydoll." You blushed even more. He caressed it with his thumb. "Maybe I should give it a treat, then?" You nodded your head and whimpered, eyes begging. You could already imagine his thick and fat cock into your mouth, the cum running down your neck. You were dripping down your sheets.

"Ok then, but keep it out." But he got down again and gave your pussy another fully and harsh suck, making you scream, almost biting your tongue. He collected all your juices and came back to you. He spit your juices into your mouth and you closed your eyes. Ok, this was definetly new. But seems like you enjoyed it, the taste of yourself making you moan. You swallowed it, like a good girl.

"Show me." You sticked your tongue out, jumping and whinning when he slapped it, not hard but hard enough to send another wave of heat straight to your core. He titled his head. "So you enjoy it, huh?" You nodded, looking away. "Are you shy now?!" He cupped your jaw and turned your face, a little harsh. "Look at me when I talk to you, brat." He slapped your tongue again and you moaned. "Tell me how much you love it!" And he let out a sexy laugh when you patheticaly tried to said it with your pulsing tongue sticked out.

"Are you my sex toy?" He asked you, kissing your tongue, giving it a slightly suck. You moaned a yes into kiss mouth and leaned closer, wanting to kiss him so bad. Surprisingly... he didn't pull away and gave you a huge and wet kiss, carresing your tongue with his, massaging it slowly and exploring all the corners of your mouth. Even his kiss was fire, he was completly dominating you. When he pulled away, you had your red lipstick all over your mouth and chin, his lips red as well.

"Such a pretty mess..." he said and smiled. It melted your heart. "Tae- " but his smile faded away and your bruised ass earned three painful smack, in the same place, making the skin almost bleeding. "How did you call me?"

"D-daddy...." you cried out, tears rolling down your cheeks. "P-pwease..."

"Please what?" He was trailing his fingers up and down your wetness, teasing and driving you crazy. "F-fuck m-me" you whispered. He stared at you, amusment written on his face. "What did you say?"

"Fuck me..." you repeated. He leaned back, face close to your ear, where he blowed hot air, making you whimper and squirm in place. "You want me to fuck you? Can you even take it? I don't think do kitten, it would be a shame for you to not be able to take my fat cock with your tight wortless count."

You had to addmit it...he was treating you with no respect and you were more than ready to do everything for him. "Daddy please! I will take it all! Just please put that fat cock inside of my worthless pussy. Daddy, make me your kitten..." you were a whimpering, begging mess under his hot stare. He was satisfied. "Is that so?" You felt him getting off of the bed, your face burried into the pillow, your tied hands resting by the navel of your spine, your expensive bra still on. You felt his hia hot breathe on your skin again, your body tensing once more.

He grabbed your hip with one hand, rubbing the head of his cock on your wet and sticky cunt. You shivered of the feeling, goosebumps spreading on your skin. He was rock hard but still wanted to tease you as much as possible. "Will you let me fuck you like this, doll?" He trailed an ice cube down your spine, making you yelp. "Like a little bitch? Breeding you like dogs do it with them? Or like my good kitten?" The ice cube was slowly melting on your heated skin, you hissed in pain when it touched the bruised skin of your ass. Then you screamed when he pushed it into your tight hole, the feeling making you close your thighs in annoyence and fall on one side.

But it didn't take long for him to spank you again, on your tighs too this time. "Get up!" Your body was trembling, tears streaming down your face, but you got up somehow. "I-I...daddy, please, fuck me like a bitch. Give me your pups, breed me as yours, or fuck me like your dumb little kitten."

"That's my girl!" He exclaimed, a pleased smirk on his face. You screamed once, when, without a warning, he snapped his hips into you, with a hard and fast move, burrying all of his long lenght inside of you. "Fuck, baby!" He cursed, under his breath and started to roll his hips, his lenght still inside of you, pocking your walls, in circles, making you see stars and moan his name many times. But you needed more and as if he heard you, he pulled back and left only his tip inside, then snapped back with a same hard move as before, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. His grunts fill up the room, as well as your subbmissive moans, his hands pushing you harder to meet his own.

His head was reaching your pelvic, by every push he was making inside of you, you felt closer and closer. His moans and curses started to grow louder and louder, making your whinny and breathless moans so tiny beside his. "M-m c-close " you managed to whimper. His hand wrapped around your throat once more than night, your vission getting blurry, your head going light, and a hard and fast snap of his hips sent you over the edge. He left out an animalistic like deep growl, rolling his hips once more, since your cunt's muscles were spasming around him, making it hard to move.

You cummed all over his cock, screaming his name so loud "D-Daddy! Ahh!!" You were seeing stars, mumbling words only you could understand, body relaxing after the wave of pleasure that washed over you. But you couldn't relax either, because Taehyung's moves fastened, making you squirm in place. "C-can't ...s-stop!"

But he only smashed your ass once more, making you cry again. "Thought you said you can take my cock now, kitten, what happened now?" You bit down on the pillow, making it full of red lipstick and wet of your tears, while your boyfriend was using you as his personal fuck toy. "Don't you want my warm cum filling your walls? Don't you want me to breed you" he groaned, rolling his eyes back of you squeezing him once more "to make you my little bitch?Take it all, like good girls do!"

You moaned a yes, feeling your second orgasm, he pulled you on your knees and hugged you at his chest, one hand around your waist, the other one having his fingers stuffed into your mouth, which you sucked like a desparate slut, feeling the taste of your own cum once more, you pushed yourself hard on him, meeting his hips.

"Shit! Yes, baby! Do it again!" And you did so, once, twice, until his cum filled your walls, sending you through another orgasm. He kept you close at his chest until his cock stopped twitching inside of you. He slowly pulled it back and watched the cum dripping down your thighs. "Such a beautiful creampie...." you were almost sleeping so he kissed your shoulder and laid you on your stomach, avoiding your bruised ass. He untied your hands and got some wet tissues to clean you both. After that he hugged you at his chest, kissing the top of your head and smiling bright.

"I love you, kitten..."

♤

Author's note: @taesluttt sorry for waiting, was supposed to post it yesterday but couldn't stop adding more and more 😅 hope you enjoy it!!!

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depressedkakashihatake-fics · 3 years

Text

Bake Me up A Dream

Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

Kakagai Week Day 2- Prompt: Flowers

AU: Bakery Au

Edited by: @mireleth

The sound of birds chirping at the front door of his shop drew Tenzo’s attention away from the book that he was currently reading. The door chime he had chosen was perfect. Not obnoxious enough to annoy him whenever there was a new customer, but still out of place enough that he would look up from whatever he was doing without fail.

At his door stood a man wearing possibly the ugliest green tracksuit combo he had ever seen with long hair braided behind his back and the thickest eyebrows in existence. That last observation wasn’t even an exaggeration on his part. Were eyebrows really allowed to be that big?

“Hello.” Slipping his bookmark into place, Tenzo set his book down on the counter in front of him and focused his full attention on the new customer. “How can i help you today?”

A shy smile greeted him. “I’m looking for a plant.” Taking a step into the shop, the man’s eyes scanned the selection of plants that Tenzo currently had out on display. “Something that will survive a few months.”

That was interesting. Very few people bothered to specify that they actually wanted the plant to survive, let alone ‘a few months’.

He had a few plants that could survive quite a long time if given the right care, but finding the right one wasn’t as easy as knowing how long someone wanted it to last. Stepping out from behind the counter, he slowly made his way towards the other man.

“Is there a particular plant you want?” He pressed for more information. “Something that flowers? Or a plant that’s easy to take care of? Big or small?”

“Well…” It was clear that this trip hadn’t been well thought out. Tenzo could see that the questions he asked were now being carefully considered, which was more than he could say for most customers. A lot of people who came through that door just grabbed the prettiest thing they saw, paid, and left without speaking a word to him.

Clearly the man was on a mission.

“I don’t think a flowering plant would be good,” the customer muttered to himself. “He doesn’t like flowers, but he likes sturdy plants. Something that can grow well and doesn’t require a lot of attention. He tends to forget about other things when he’s really focused on tasks.”

That sounded like the type of person who would love Tenzo’s selection of herbaceous perennials. Though there still were quite a lot of them that flowered, he could think of one that might fit the customer’s preferences.

Waving the man forward he did a 180 degree turn and headed towards the back corner where he kept some of his less fragile plants. The ones that didn’t need constant care every day, or needed to be away from the sunlight that shone through the front windows from 7am to 8pm everyday.

“I think…” His eyes scanned the shelves, searching for the plant he was thinking of. “Ah, here it is.” Reaching out, he carefully picked up the small Zamioculcas zamiifolia from the shelf and turned back around, almost jumping out of his skin when he found his customer standing directly behind him. Releasing his grip on the potted plant, he watched in horror as it plummeted towards the floor.

Instead of hearing the sound of the pot shattering against the ground, Tenzo found himself watching as the man swooped down and caught the plant with ease, saving him from losing a sale.

“Sorry,” the shy smile that Tenzo had been greeted with was back on his face, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” With the apology out of the way, he turned his attention down to the plant now resting in his hands. Tenzo wasn’t quite sure what was going through his mind, but the way that his smile slowly morphed into a tender gaze told him that he had made the right choice.

Now he just had to lock in the sale.

“It’s an easy plant to take care of,” he explained, making his way back over towards the counter so he could put some distance between the two of them. “You, or your partner, only really need to water it when the dirt is dry, and even then if you forget a day or two it will still live.”

For a second he thought his words were being ignored. There was no verbal response to what he had said, and the man was still looking down at the plant with the fondest expression. Almost like he was hypnotized by it.

“He’ll love it.” The words finally broke through the silence that had fallen between them, bright happy eyes turning upwards to meet his gaze. “And it’ll go great in the bakery.”

Well, now that was just something Tenzo couldn’t ignore. A bakery sounded like a great idea, especially if it ended up somewhere nearby where he could sneak in once in a while to grab a treat.

Seeing the plant being set down in front of him, Tenzo turned his attention to the till and started to punch in the price, but his interest in the aforementioned bakery continued to nag at him.

“It’ll be ¥7000.” He smiled back at his customer. “And what is this bakery, if you don’t mind me asking? Planning to open up a new place?”

There was a moment of hesitation, but then the flood gates seemed to open. Tenzo hadn’t been expecting such a long, detailed answer to his question. A whole story was presented to him and before he knew it he was invested. This sounded like the best boyfriend ever, and if he was into bad clothing choices he might have been tempted to try to steal this one for himself.

Not that he really thought it was possible. The way that he said his partner’s name, the way his eyes lit up everytime he talked about him. This was a man who was head over heels in love. No-one could hope to steal him.

“Do you think it sounds alright?” Tenzo blinked, a little confused by the question. “I didn’t really talk to him about buying the location. I didn’t have time. It was such a cheap price and I knew if I waited to talk to him someone would swoop it up before I could get back to it in time…”

“I think he’ll love it.” His words were met with a warm happy look. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a boyfriend who listens to them gush about their dream of opening a bakery, and then as soon as he sees a small place on sale for cheap enough just swoops it up without thinking. He’s bound to love it.”

At least, that’s how he would feel if someone had bought him the small shop he now owned knowing that he wanted to open up a flower shop. One that specializes in living potted plants that would stay with a person for months or even years as long as they took proper care of them, unlike the Yamanaka shop down the street. He had never understood the obsession with flowers that had been ripped away from their roots and would die within a week regardless of how much care a person gave them. It seemed such a waste of a beautiful plant.

“Thanks.” Taking the money that was now being presented to him, Tenzo punched it into the till and stashed it away in the drawer. “He has done a lot for me since we were young. Without him I wouldn’t have the dojo, and we’d both be working shitty jobs we didn’t like. I want to pay him back. Give him something he actually enjoys instead of…” He stopped himself there, replacing whatever words he was about to say with a chuckle instead. “Well, I doubt you want me to bore you with the whole story.”

“Not that I have much to do,” Tenzo waved his hand towards the empty store to emphasize his point, “but you should get back and present him with his new gifts. I’m sure he’ll love them both.”

With one final goodbye, Tenzo watched as his customer made his way back out the front door, and as soon as the door chime went off he kicked himself mentally. All of that talking, and he had forgotten to ask where the bakery was going to be, or even what the man’s name was.

He was never going to get one of those delicious cupcakes that apparently made the world stop with their sugary greatness, and that was just upsetting.

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Numbers.

Even when he closed his eyes, all Kakashi saw was numbers. Equations, pay cheques, costs, and deductions. Numbers were swimming in his brain and he wanted nothing more to bash his head against the table until they disappeared.

Why did he have to have the worst job in existence? Why had he been given a brain smart enough to do this job with such ease, but the attention span of a five year old on sugar?

He needed to do something, anything, to take his mind off of all of the paperwork and the endless numbers.

A creaking sound snagged his attention. Gai . Gai was home. Only the front door of their tiny apartment creaked like that, no matter how much oil he put on the hinges to try and get it to stop.

Gai could help him think of more enjoyable things. He was great at doing that.

Bolting up from his seat, Kakashi rushed towards the front room and threw his arms around Gai’s neck, hugging him tightly as he tried to maneuver himself around the body that had suddenly appeared. Not that this was anything new for Gai. Kakashi had started making a habit out of greeting him like this years ago when they first moved into their apartment, and he had never missed the opportunity to greet Gai with just as much enthusiasm as the day before.

Behind him, Pakkun came trudging along after being forced to wake up from his two hour long nap on Kakashi’s lap. The poor pug dog was rarely ever happy to be awoken so rudely, but he usually forgot about his gripes with Kakashi’s sudden movements when he was presented with treats a few minutes after the daily greetings.

“You needed a break, I see.” As always, Gai could see right through him. Whether it was because he was vibrating with excitement or because Gai could see that he had made an absolute mess of his hair while running his fingers through it stressing over his paperwork, it didn’t really matter. Gai was home now and a few hours of relaxing before bed was exactly what he had been looking forward to all day. “Work sending you too much paperwork again?”

“You know how they are.” Hiding his face in Gai’s neck, he closed his eyes and relaxed while Gai set everything down on the small table they had by the door and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Whenever I finish paperwork they send me more. I’m certain they’re pawning off everyone else’s paperwork on me.”

There were actually more accountants than just him. There had to be, for a company as big as Hiruzen-sama’s was. He and his husband, Danzo-Sama, owned restaurants all over the country. One person couldn’t possibly do the paperwork for every single one of them, but some days it felt like they were determined to have Kakashi try.

“Well, I think you should quit.” Tilting his head to the side, Kakashi cracked his right eye open and stared up at Gai. “What? It’s true! You deserve a job where you’re not overworked and constantly stressed.”

“Are you going to find me one of those?” He huffed, forever amused by Gai’s insistence that he find a better job. He had tried to do that in the past and it never worked out. Either his new boss didn’t like him because he was smarter than them, or his new co-workers refused to work with him because he was socially awkward.

Usually the second one. His first day never went well enough for him to stick around and let his boss learn just how smart he was. Honestly, he was lucky he was always allowed to come back after every new attempt. Most bosses would have gotten fed up with him continuously quitting and coming back after three years, but Hiruzen always welcomed him back with a pile of paperwork twice the size as what he had left behind.

Feeling Gai’s arms retracting from his waist, Kakashi whined. He wasn’t done getting comfort hugs yet, but Gai seemed determined to pull away. No matter how much Kakashi tried to squirm his way back into that warm hug Gai continued to retract his arms until he was able to take a step back. With space now between the pair, Gai moved his hands onto Kakashi’s shoulders and gazed deep into his eyes.

It was a little unsettling if he was being honest with himself.

“What if I told you—well if maybe I…” Gai fell silent. It seemed pretty obvious that he was trying to break some sort of news to Kakashi, but he was having troubles doing it, which only made Kakashi worry.

Had Gai found him a new job? Was he going to have to go through the ‘quit, start new job, get fired, and go back to beg for his old job back’ routine all over again? Were they ever going to stop with this stupid game and admit he was stuck where he was?

“Oh, no. Don’t get that look.” Gai’s words cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present and to those soft kind eyes that always seemed to look at him with more love than he could imagine anyone having for someone like him. “It’s a good thing. I did a good thing, Kakashi. Well, I think I did.”

Another moment of doubt, and more worries rushed through Kakashi’s mind. There was no way this could end well for him at all. It never did.

“Gai,” nibbling at his bottom lip, Kakashi took a deep breath and forced a smile onto his face, “I’m good where I am. I know it’s not perfect and it’s a lot of work, but it’s a job. I get paid to be there and that job helped us buy the dojo so it’s a good thing isn’t it?”

There’s no way they would have been able to afford to support Gai’s dream without the money he was making under Hiruzen. No other job paid well enough for them to afford their apartment and save up the money they needed to get Gai’s dojo. The money his father had left him in high school had only been enough to buy the place, not refurbish it and get all of the equipment they needed, and Gai’s job as a trainer at the local gym hadn’t been paying him much at all.

He owed a lot to Hiruzen, so finding another job that wasn’t going to work out in the end wasn’t ideal for him at this point.

Unfortunately, Gai wasn’t convinced.

“It’s not just a new job, Kakashi.” He couldn’t help but roll his eyes a bit. Gai’s pep talks always started like this and he always ended up going with whatever new job his boyfriend had found for him. It was getting exhausting. “I mean it. I didn’t talk to someone to get you a chance at a new firm, or to have you doing more paperwork behind a desk.”

Ok, that did sound a bit new. It wouldn’t hurt to at least listen to Gai, would it?

“So,” he raised an eyebrow, still a little unimpressed, “what is it? Did you get me a fast food job? Am I going to be telling teenagers how to make hamburgers and deal with customers yelling at me because they got a pickle on their burger?”

Fast food workers really didn’t get paid enough for the bullshit they had to put up with.

“I would never dream of getting you a job like that.” Gai frowned. “No, I got… well, I found a small place near the dojo that was up for sale. It was really cheap and we still had enough money left over after all of the renovations.”

“Gai, please tell me you didn’t buy another place…” It was enough to have to do the finances for Gai’s dojo on top of all of the work he did for Hiruzen’s companies. Another place to take care of on top of all of that would probably put him in an early grave. “Isn’t one dojo enough? I can’t handle…”

A finger pressed against his lips, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

“I did not buy another building so I could have another dojo.” There was a hurt look in Gai’s eyes when Kakashi looked back at him. “Do you really think… Kakashi, you’ve given up more than enough for me already.”

Ok, he deserved that one. Gai was the sweetest person he had ever met. There was no way he was going to buy himself another building without consulting Kakashi. Especially when Kakashi had put in so many extra hours just so they could afford everything they needed for the first dojo.

“Then what is it?” He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for an explanation.

“Well, it’s just a small place.” Tilting his head, Kakashi waited for clarification. “Just enough for a small display room and a large kitchen in the back for you to work in.”

A kitchen? That sounded an awful lot like something he had been dreaming about for years. A dream he had only ever dared to share with Gai while they were laying in bed drifting off to sleep.

“Gai…” He was almost afraid to ask. Scared that all of the excitement building up inside of him would come crashing down when Gai told him that his assumptions were wrong. “Did you… are we going to need money to set up a… a bakery?”

The last word left his mouth in a whisper, fear coursing through his veins as he waited for an answer.

There was no verbal response. Just a shy nod of Gai’s head and suddenly Kakashi was throwing his arms around the other man’s neck and hugging him tighter than he ever had before.

“A bakery…” He buried his face into Gai’s neck, taking in the sweet familiar scent of the cologne that Gai put on every day after his afternoon shower. “We’re getting a bakery.”

“One where you can spend your mornings making all of the goodies you can think of.” Gai’s arms wrapped around his waist once more, pulling him close to his chest. “And it’ll be a hit, Kakashi. The only accounting you’ll have to do once we open up business is for your bakery and my dojo.”

“Our bakery,” Kakashi corrected him. “We both know if I try to do the advertisements, PR or anything involving interacting with people that the place is going to flop within a month.” He really wasn’t the best at talking to people. It’s why he always worked from home when he could, and avoided his co-workers when he had to go into the office.

“Our bakery.” Gai chuckled, squeezing Kakashi just a bit tighter into his hug. “And I got the first decoration that we can put up when we open it. But you’ll have to take care of it until the bakery is ready.”

Feeling Gai letting go of him once more, Kakashi whined. He hated giving up Gai’s hugs to do other things. It was never as good as being engulfed by those comfortable, warm arms that he loved so much.

“I’ll give you all of the hugs later, I promise.” A hand came up to his shoulder, carefully turning him around so that he could see the potted plant that Gai had set down on the table behind him earlier. It was the most beautiful plant he had ever seen. “I was told this would be the perfect plant for you.”

Apparently someone knew him very well.

“I love it.” He looked back at Gai with the biggest smile, chuckling when he saw the fond look in the taijutsu master’s eyes “It’ll look great at the front of the bakery where everyone can see it.”

A bakery. His bakery. Part of him still couldn’t believe it.

Reaching up he laid his hand against Gai’s cheek. “Tell me, what did I ever do to deserve you?”

“That’s a very long list.” Leaning down just a bit, Gai pressed a tender kiss to his neck. “One I’ll make sure to give you while we’re celebrating after dinner.”

An amazing boyfriend, a chance at his dream job, and promises of celebrations? There was no way today could get any better for him.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months of endless, grueling work. That is what Kakashi had to put up with to see this day. Ripping out old shitty flooring, more expenses than he had been expecting when he first saw the place, setting up the kitchen just perfectly for him to work in, and finding all of the staff that they needed for their opening day. There had been more than a few bumps in the road, but they had finally made it.

At five in the morning he had crawled out of bed already dreading the thought of going back to his computer to look at more numbers. The sick feeling he got at the mere thought of having to waste away another day organizing Hiruzen-sama’s company accounts had been more than enough to make him want to vomit. A feeling that he had, unfortunately, gotten far too used to over the years.

Then that moment of realization hit him. The date on the calendar he kept up on the kitchen wall beside the fridge caught his eye, and all of those sickly gross feelings washed away.

His last day had been a week ago. Hiruzen-sama had already called him two days after he had finished at the company asking him when he would be coming back, and had laughed when Kakashi told him that he hadn’t even been able to start his new job yet. It had made Kakashi angry but he had pushed it into the back of his mind and focused on finishing the work he and Gai were doing on the new bakery.

And now here he was. Standing at the front of the bakery after having finished making all of the cupcakes, cookies, cakes, pastries and other goodies for the day. His new designers, Sai and Shikamaru, were in the back putting icing on the cupcakes and cakes. The salesperson, Sakura, was in the midst of organizing everything into the display cases, and he was currently busying himself with finding the right place to put his plant.

The plant that Gai had gotten him when he had come home with news of his new purchase. A Zamioculcas zamiifolia according to every bing search that he did to find out how to take care of the thing.

Kakashi had been convinced he would kill it within a few days because of his habit of forgetting to take care of things (including himself), but it had somehow managed to survive until today. It was even bigger than when he had first gotten it which was, in his personal opinion, a miracle.

The sound of dogs barking at the front door alerted Kakashi to his new guest. One Maito Gai in the midst of trying desperately to rein back a large black bull dog and the much smaller, but no less feisty, pug dog that were currently attempting to follow him into the bakery.

“I told you to wait outside.” He could tell Gai was trying to scold the dogs, but his voice was much too soft and kind for it to really have any effect on them. “No dogs in the bakery. We’ll be right out, I promise.”

It was sort of cruel to keep them outside in his opinion. The pair were used to always being by his side at all times, and neither of them had taken it well when Gai dropped him off at the bakery at six in the morning and closed the door before either of them could jump out to follow him. Thankfully Gai’s dojo didn’t have the same health code laws against having pets inside, so Gai decided to spoil his morning class with a visit from his boyfriends hounds.

“You know, if you want them to listen you’re going to have to put a little more strength into your voice,” he offered, laughing when Gai turned to glare at him “Exactly. Take that look and put it into words.”

Gai did not seem to enjoy his humor as much as he did, simply rolling his eyes in response to Kakashi’s words and giving the dogs one final look with a soft ‘two seconds’ before allowing the door to close and turning his full attention to Kakashi.

His eyes seemed to examine Kakashi for a moment. A smile spread across his face as he stepped up to his side and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve seen you since…” Hearing the pause, Kakashi couldn’t help but chuckle. Had it really been that long since he had been happy? How bad was his accounting work getting to him that Gai had to think of when the last time he was genuinely happy was? “Oh, since we adopted Bull!”

Well, that was pretty bad. They had adopted Bull 7 months ago and now Gai was telling him that he hadn’t been as happy as that moment since? That was sort of depressing.

Though, maybe this was just a turning point for him. If things worked out he was never going to have to return to that shitty desk space in their apartment, spending hours sitting and staring at a computer screen. The only finance work he’d have to do from now on was for his own bakery and Gai’s dojo, and somehow that didn’t feel nearly as daunting a task.

“Here,” holding out the Zamioculcas zamiifolia to Gai, he smiled when his boyfriend returned his gesture with a confused look, “I have no idea where to put it, and you’re great at making things look amazing. You chose the layout here after all, so you choose where this goes.”

Taking the plant from Kakashi, Gai took a few short strides up to the front till and carefully placed the plant off to the side, moving the small business card stand right in front of it.

“I think it looks best here, right out front.” He beamed, and somehow Kakashi found himself falling in love with that smile all over again. “It pulls the look together perfectly.”

Kakashi was about to respond when the sound of barking dogs caught his attention once more. Turning to look at the door, he smiled when he saw a brunette stumbling past Bull and Pakkun into the building.

“S-Sorry.” The man held up his hands towards the dog, giving them a smile when they continued to bark at him. “I didn’t see you there little guy.”

“Ahh, Pakkun’s hiding and trying to trip people again.” Gai chuckled, glancing over at Kakashi as he spoke. “You really must get him out of that habit.”

“It has been three years since I got him,” Kakashi argued. “At this point there is nothing I can do.”

Giving his head a shake Gai returned his attention to the customer now standing at the front door. “I see you found your way here quickly.”

“Kind of hard not to.” The brunette smiled back at them. “You’ve had this place under construction for months and it’s right beside my favorite coffee place.”

“At least people noticed us getting ready,” Kakashi muttered under his breath, noticing the moment that the other man’s eyes caught sight of the plant that Gai had put beside the till. “I see the plant is already getting attention.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard not to notice it.” Kakashi watched as the man brought a hand up to settle in his hair, his eyes lighting up when he looked over at Gai. “You made sure it didn’t die.”

“Actually, he took pretty good care of it himself.” Even though Gai was trying to say it with pride, Kakashi felt like he had just been insulted. As if it was expected that he would kill the plants if left alone with it for too long. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. Kakashi wasn’t known to remember to water his plants and most of them died within a few days of being left in his care. That still didn’t mean he needed to have his boyfriend act so surprised at his ability to keep one single plant alive. “Kakashi, instead of getting upset why don’t you offer our customer a treat?”

Taking his cue, Kakashi turned away from his boyfriend with a soft huff and picked up the plate of samples that he had made up for anyone who decided to wander into the store.

“Here.” He held it out towards the men, glaring at Gai when he gave him an unimpressed look. “What?”

“I can see why you said he stays in the back,” Sakura giggled from behind the counter where she was still putting treats out on display. “That was pretty bad.”

“I hate you both,” Kakashi grumbled under his breath, watching as the brunette ignored their little argument and picked up a small chocolate cupcake with just a little bit of frosting on top, and plopped it into his mouth.

His eyes immediately lit up, a smile pulling at his lips as he looked over at Gai.

“You must have hired the best baker in town.” He smiled brightly. “That’s amazing!”

“Well,” Kakashi met Gai’s gaze, smiling when he saw the proud look on his boyfriend’s face, “he might not be the best with people, but he is amazing in the kitchen.”

#Hatake Kakashi #Maito Gai #Kakagai #Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai #It's very long #I'm sorry #it just #sorty of happened #Bakery au #XD #Kakagai week #kkg week #Kakagai week 2020 #Kakagaiweek

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everything-withered · 4 years

Note

Prompt "Flowers for a dead girl" Ichigo is SOFT, he did this literally since the beginning of the manga

I hope you don't mind an AU take on this!

Rukia knows for a fact that someone is stealing flowers out of her garden. She knew it had to happen some time. Her window opens almost directly into the pavement, and placing anything on the window sill is just asking for it to get stolen.

The grandmother that was staying at the apartment before Rukia had offered that warning lightly, before gifting her with the aforementioned flowers.

"You can't even keep cacti alive," Renji reminded her with a snort to which she'd pinched him and said, "Shut up, there's a first time for everything."

And while the flowers weren't anywhere near as healthy or full as when she'd received them, they were still in bloom! Which made their theft even more upsetting, and didn't get better once she'd realized that it probably wasn't the first time either.

I knew I wasn't imagining the flowers looking a little thin, she thinks both vindictive and resentful as she pets the leaves in apology. Whoever has been taking them plucks them straight from the stem, like a monster.

"I think it would be worse if they'd been clipped," Hisana tells her, "that would imply premeditation."

Rukia scowls. "So I should just be grateful that whoever's been kidnapping my violets is doing it because it's convenient?"

"Well," she trails, "maybe you shouldn't leave your flowers in a place where they can be easily kidnapped."

"That's victim blaming and I will not stand for it." Which is not the reason Rukia doesn't move the flower pots -- her apartment is a closet at most, and the window is the best place to keep plants anyway -- but that doesn't mean she'd refuse to move it out of spite. It's for the continued wellness of her flowers, Hisana, will you please be a good sister and just let me complain??

"Where's your sense of romance, Rukia-chan?"

She scoffs.

"Just picture it," Hisana continues, starry eyed, "a thoughtful lover on their way to be with their beau when they see your flowers and think, what a lovely gift to give their love!"

"I'm sure their love would appreciate it more if they didn't dig it out of someone else's garden," Rukia deadpans.

"It's the thought that counts."

"I think they're cheap."

"Rukia!"

Refusing to move the flowers from its perch, however, doesn't mean Rukia is taking the continued theft of her violets lying down, romantic reasons or not. No, sir. She borrows Renji's Go-Pro and points it at the window for a couple of days.

For awhile, there's no bite, and she gets several hours worth of footage of her window sill: people walking past as they carry on with their day as the violets in their planters giggle in the breeze and stretch in the sunshine before drowsily drooping off to sleep at dusk. It's pretty soothing to watch played back. But Rukia is not convinced. Her thief will be back.

Almost a full two weeks have passed before she's proven right.

The guy in the footage looks like trouble; unfriendly and scowling, Rukia isn't surprised at the appearance of her thief. While she wouldn't have pegged a guy with a leather jacket, too many rings and a leather cuff wrapped around his wrist to steal flowers, Rukia isn't going to judge him for that. Oh, no. She's too busy being incensed that this...this...asshole took way more violets than he did last time!

She has no idea if he's going to show up on the same day as before, but Rukia prepares for it. She sets up camp far enough from the window that she won't be seen, and waits.

Almost to the minute, a shadow lingers, and Rukia is ready! She throws the windows open with a dramatic flourish and shouts, "Gotcha!"

A white butterfly, having been innocently resting on the petals of the flowers, is startled by her sudden presence and almost flies into her face. Fortunately, the guy, to Rukia's satisfaction, recoils anyway, almost to the point of falling over as he yells back in surprise. "What the hell?"

"Caught you red handed, thief," she declares which he promptly doesn't approve of because the orange haired jerk is arguing, "I'm not a thief."

"Oh yeah, then how do you explain taking my flowers?"

At that, he splutters, "Your flowers?"

"Yes, my flowers," Rukia tells him, scowling. "I live here."

"No, you don't," he has the audacity to say. "Akiko-san lives here."

Realising it was the grandmother who'd been letting the apartment before her, Rukia's anger cools. "Not anymore. She moved out. She left me the flowers you keep stealing."

The guy's face goes through an impressive array of emotions before settling on a fine combination of disgruntled and embarrassed. "...ah..."

With a considering look, Rukia says, "I assume if you know the grandmother by name, you must've had an arrangement."

"In not so many words," is his vague reply, and though it should make her suspicious that he's lying for all that he's still blushing to his ears, Rukia decides that it's no real harm done. Just a misunderstanding.

Although, if this guy's been stealing flowers for his girl for as long as it would take to be acquainted to a grandmother he's not related to, he clearly needs help sealing the deal. Nodding to herself determinedly, course of action decided, Rukia tells him, "You can take the flowers."

That startles him, and to her relief he's not nearly as grumpy when he isn't frowning. In fact, now that she's actually looking a him, he's pretty handsome. High cheekbones, defined jaw, full lips, brown eyes. Yeah, this should be easy, she thinks with a huff. "But I'm meeting whoever you're giving them to."

"What."

Hmm, Rukia thinks. Maybe that's why he hasn't gotten a date yet...though, instead of telling him that, she poses, "Do you want the flowers or not?"

Which is how Rukia ends up meeting her thief on the sidewalk five minutes later.

"My name is Ichigo, not thief," he corrects.

"And I'd tell you it was nice to meet you, but one of us shouldn't be a liar," Rukia sniffs, and while this makes him scoff, he's also smirking a little the next time she glances at him.

"Who are you anyway?" he asks, and she thinks, rude.

Though that thought doesn't stop her from replying shortly in kind, "Rukia." Then, just for good measure, "And you could be a little less rude, I don't know how you expect to get a date with that kind of attitude."

He makes a noise of disbelief but flushes all the same.

As they walk, he eventually asks, "Why do you want to meet her anyway? The girl I give your flowers to."

"To make sure she's worth it," Rukia says. "Is she?"

There's no hesitation, "Yes."

She hums, and she could pry into Ichigo's relationship with this mystery girl, but instead she asks, "So you couldn't just buy her flowers?"

And at that he looks embarrassed, though he hides it with the same disgruntlement as before. "I always forget, and your window is on the way there. It was just...convenient."

"Nice," Rukia snorts. "I hope you don't tell her that, nothing makes a girl feel more special than stolen flowers."

After a thoughtful pause, he asks, "You're not from around here, are you?"

Her eyes narrows. "Not originally." Before, "Why?"

At that, Ichigo shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, gaze pointedly at some middle distance. "Because this is probably gonna get uncomfortable."

Rukia's brows are still furrowed in disbelief when she finally realizes where they're headed. "Oh."

Opening the gate, he lets her through first before following after.

He doesn't explain, and she doesn't ask as they walk together through the gardens. Despite his earlier decree, he seems uncomfortable too; shoulders drawn to his ears, frown deepening and eyes going distant.

Rukia almost wants to turn back around, but there's something volatile in his fragility, and she doesn't want to be the thing that shatters it. It isn't until they've come to a stop that he speaks, telling Rukia sardonically, "Well, you wanted to meet her."

And there's a lot of things a normal person could say when faced with a headstone, things like I'm sorry for your loss, and I can't believe I was a jerk to you. Along with other things like why would other people be so aware of the loss of your mom that you had to ask if I was from around here to know of it? and I'm sorry people think of you in relation to whatever tragedy caused your loss.

Except Ichigo looks like he's already preparing to block it out after too many years of too many people being too aware of his grief, "You're not from around here, are you?"

So what Rukia does instead is bow, and say, "Kurosaki-san, I'm sorry your son is cheap."

Ichigo is so surprised by her that he doesn't even think to be offended, instead spluttering in denial. His mask of nonchalance cracked, Rukia continues earnestly to his mother, "If I'd known he was relying on my subpar gardening skills, I'd have tried harder to make sure the flowers he got you were in better shape."

"Shut up, I don't know what you're talking about. Your flowers are fine," he argues.

Then, in a hiss out of respect for Kurosaki Masaki's final resting place, Rukia says, "They're for your mom, Ichigo, oh my god." Aloud, she tells his mother, "I'm so sorry, I know you raised him better. I'll make sure he gets you proper flowers next time."

"You'll make sure of that, huh?"

"If you insist on taking flowers from my window, yes, next time," Rukia tells him with crossed arms and a haughty look. "I can't believe you were stealing flowers for your mom."

"Hey," he defends, "you asked if she was worth it, was I lying?"

She rolls her eyes and persists, "Next time, we're bringing her something better."

"Fine, it's a date."

"Fine," Rukia huffs in return.

It's only after Ichigo's walked her home after a detour to a convenience store to replace her violets, and a reminder that he'll pick her up next week, does Rukia realize what she's agreed to.

To her newly purchased sunflowers, she shakes her head and says, "I can't believe he stole a date right from under me!"

#ichiruki #deathberry

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themorp · 4 years

Text

Writing Prompts

A lot of these are Au related! And some of them hint at violence/gore, so please be aware of that.

“Don’t move. They rely on sight.”

“I knew it was you!”

“Please tell me that’s not my soulmate.”

“Did you seriously get yourself stuck in a chair?”

“I am so sorry that the words on your arm are so stupid.”

“Prepare for canon fire!”

“Look out!”

“That’s gross... Cool! But still gross.”

“That was my kill!”

“Are you from the Northern Empire?”

“Well I’m not sure weather to be offended or relieved- my wanted posture looks nothing like me.”

“That is NOT how you hold (weapon).”

“Well... this is awkward...”

“Can I kick his ass?”

“HOW ARE THEY SO HOT??? HOW DARE THEY!!!”

“Be quiet! They’ll hear you!”

“Did you steal from that couple?”

“That thing has a curse on it. I’d be careful.”

“I didn’t realize it was a shrinking potion, I swear!”

“I knew (mythical creature/cryptid) were real!”

“Can you get me out of this thing?”

“I have never met you, but I know someone who needs help when I see one.”

“I left you guys alone for FIVE MINUTES!!!”

“That looks painful.”

“Yikes... Glad that’s not me.”

“We’re gonna have to cut it off before it spreads to other parts of their body.”

“And where, exactly, have you been?”

“HOW DID YOU PISS OFF ALL THE GUARDSMEN?!”

“I said distract them, not knock them out!”

“For the last time!!! That is not edible!”

“That man is crazy.”

“They’re going to burn them at the stake!”

“Well, that wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“You’re rescuing me?”

“I never knew the outside world so... big.”

“Put the fire out before we’re noticed!”

“This rescue mission is gonna kick my ass.”

“I... I think they’re still alive...”

“Are you sure they aren’t infected?”

“That’s a brutal looking scar.”

“How did you manage to pull that off?”

“Put down the (weapon)... I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Well that isn’t normal.”

“What are you?!”

“Dragon bonding isn’t for everyone.”

“Who the hell thought this was a good idea.”

“I am no longer giving a fuck.”

“I want to give up, but I have someone worth pushing onwards for.”

“This storm came out of nowhere!”

“That was dangerous and reckless! But... it was impressive...”

“Who the hell is stupid enough to do that?”

“Can you see anything?”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“I haven’t had meat in years.”

“Was that a gunshot?”

“Can we keep it?”

“Well. This is unexpected.”

“Why are you covered in mud?”

“I have never been held like this...”

“Don’t touch me! You stink! What the hell was in that swamp?!”

“What is... kissing?”

“That’s disgusting. Don’t stop.”

“Aww... what a cute dog...! Wait... THAT IS NOT A DOG ABORT ABORT ABORT-”

“Can I have a hug?”

“How do you live like this?!”

“You’ve never been in a real battle, have you?”

“The Chief will decide your fate.”

“You know I was expecting you to be bigger.”

“Barricade the doors!”

“This is a strange ritual.”

“I don’t think this is a regular maze...”

“Is that blood?”

“There’s a hole in the floor.”

“What the hell was that? Did you hear that?”

“Zombies aren’t supposed to be smart!”

“Is that a ship?”

“Get the hell out of my way.”

“Did you just (physical attack such as punch or kick) me?!’

“They’re weakened by silver.”

“I really wish I had my holy water right now.”

“Well that backfired.”

“I’m so hungry... Can I feed off you a little?”

“YOU DARE OPPOSE ME?”

“Please help me, this man has been following me and I don’t want him to know where I live.”

“Is that really you?!”

“Has it really been three centuries?”

“Are you sure you’re human?”

“That was an alien- That was an alien- THAT WAS AN ALIEN-”

“We SHOULD NOT SPLIT UP!!”

Is it just me or is the floor moving?”

“How the hell did someone get in here?”

“Well, this is awkward... Can I have my payment now?”

“Since when were you so smart?”

“They’re right above us.”

“It’s almost like it can see into my soul.”

“BUGS DON’T GET THAT BIG HERE-”

“I hear growling...”

“DO NOT THROW THE BABY”

“Is that a threat or an offer?”

“I have so many pictures of them being an idiot.”

“The clock has less than hour left.”

“HAVE YOU EVER WATCHED A HORROR MOVIE?!?!”

“Was that you?”

“I think I’m going crazy.”

“We have to go- a scout discovered our shelter, the hive is coming.”

“It’s so damn hot.”

“I... I can’t remember...”

“Aww that’s so cute how much is i-... nevermind.”

“Did you just eat an alien egg?”

“You do realize they’re siblings right?”

“How are you so cute?”

“I am in debt to you, and until that debt is paid I will be you loyal servant.”

“Are you... Are you riding a dragon?”

“You’re under arrest.”

“Here, drink this.”

“Potion making is sensitive, so please be quiet whilst I work.”

“Has thee never seen a Vampire?”

“That was not rad at all.”

“I think it’s dead.”

“You go first.”

“You treat me as if I’m not a litterall demon from hell.”

“I will protect until my dying breath.”

“Don’t worry, you’re safe now.”

“It’s an honor to meet you.”

“You’re not from around here, re you?”

“What? Never seen a hybrid before?”

“That is not how you use that.”

“Did you know different flowers have different meanings...? The ones I gave you are quite unique in meaning.”

“Your family is... interesting...”

“If you’re not gonna eat grubs then you’re gonna starve. It’s all that’s out here.”

“That’s not human.”

“Stop standing there staring and help me!”

“I’m too short...”

“Was that an insult?”

“Keep up!”

“Don’t look behind you.”

“You have to jump! You have to trust me!”

“Is this it?”

“I can’t believe my soulmate is a human-”

“Well that was weird.”

“Have you ever exercised?”

“Don’t test my patience, pet.”

“How am I going to tell [Name] about this...?”

“It’s a match made in heaven!”

“Be careful, they’re sensitive!”

“So this is a fruit...”

“When I feel bad I go beat the shit out of someone. It works.”

“DID YOU PULL THE LEVER I SPECIFICALLY ASKED YOU NOT TO PULL?!”

“In DnD we call that rolling a one.”

“[Name] is gonna kill me!”

“Rest in pieces.”

“Hurt them and I make your life hell on Earth.”

“So he’s a dumbass-”

“Someone shoot me-”

“Give it back! That’s private!”

“It was so obvious! I’m such an idiot!”

“Is that all you have?��

“The expedition was successful.”

“There were no survivors.”

“I thought I lost you.”

“Stop! Stop! There’s a cat!”

“Why am I here again?”

“Having detachable body parts is actually a convenience when you’re a cyborg.”

That’s a big ass [Animal]”

“Do you know what you’re doing?!”

“Did you seriously have to pick the lock? When I have the keys?”

“They’re dangerous.”

“And that’s my que to leave.”

“You are my greatest treasure.”

“I seriously hope you’re not thinking of doing what I think you are thinking of doing.”

“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU NAKED?”

“Is... is that a dwarf?”

“You’re as odd as your friends said.”

“There is no need for violence!”

“All I wanted was a doughnut-”

“Why are the barn lights on?”

“They got into ANOTHER fight?!”

“You’d think living with a family of sorcerers would teach them something.”

“Thank goodness most dragons aren’t venomous.”

“Nagas are quite fickle creatures.”

“Satyrs are not to be trusted.”

“You walked into the faery ring, you belong to the fae now. I can’y help you.”

“Go ask them out! They look cute!”

“Angels aren’t supposed to fall in love... but how was I supposed resist you?”

“I thought humans were bigger.”

“Your highness is a royal pain in the ass.”

“That hurt.”

“I am not looking forward to this at all.”

“I do not like caves. I don’t like cavbes at all.”

“MOSS!!!!”

“This town seems abandoned.”

“The radiation levels aren’t too high here.”

“Put your masks on.”

“You know you shouldn’t give your name to strangers, especially a fae in the forest.”

“I never realized how big the ocean was.”

“I have an idea- it’s dangerous, crazy, and reckless, but it might just work.”

“Is this your child?”

“I’m surprised Cerberus likes you.”

“Hellhounds aren’t usually friendly.”

“That’s a big meal for one person...”

“Werewolves aren’t fans of silver.”

“The dumbest myth about us vampires is that we hate garlic.”

“What brings you to my territory, little human?”

“Don’t bare your fangs at guests! It’s rude!”

“I’m only protecting you because I made a promise.”

“That was a terrible attempt at a prank. Let me show you how it’s done.”

“You do realize demons can sense emotions right?”

“You foolish human! You could have gotten hurt!”

“Watch your step.”

“It’s called a secret entrance for a reason.”

“Did you just... kiss me...?”

“My soulmate is a dumbass but I love them.”

“This jackassery will not stand!”

“Unless you have a death wish I’d leave those sirens alone.”

“Swim with me?”

“Have you never frolicked before?”

“You’re fired!”

“Does this armor make me look fat?”

“Your soulmate is a Naga?”

“Gargoyles are cranky in the morning.”

“That little fucker is at it again-”

“I don’t remember the last time I laughed like that.”

“Elves are usually attractive... but them... they’re ethereal..”

“I think I’m in love with a snake man.”

“Are orcs usually this big?”

“Confess? And risk ruining what i have with them? I’d rather drink bog water that a Satyr bathed in!”

“Are all humans this attractive or is it just you?”

“Guns are so odd... They only do their job after they’re fired...”

“Are you usually this full of yourself?”

Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“I wasn’t expecting to meet my soulmate when I snuck into Area 51.”

“Turn off the lights!”

“I won’t let you go, not again.”

“That’s so dangerous...! When are we doing it?”

“You humans are so fragile, yet you are the apex species of your planet.”

“IT’S NOT WORTH IT! GET BACK IN THE CAR!”

“Don’t look back!”

“They’re attracted by (heat, sound, etc.).”

“It looks dangerous.”

“Don’t touch it-”

“Careful it’s soup.”

“Did... did that thing just speak?”

“It’s a boat! Oh my god it’s a boat- we’re saved-”

“Keep your distance.”

“I will not hesitate to leave you behind.”

“THEY’RE SIBLINGS?!”

‘I am slightly worried... never mind I am very worried.”

“THEY’RE CHOKING!”

“It’s too damn hot to do anything.”

“Stop singing!”

“Life isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, kid.”

“That is one ugly ass [Animal/baby/clothing item].”

“I’VE SEEN THIS IN A HENTAI BEFORE!”

“Please shut your trap before I stuff it- shit that sounds sexual-”

“Is that- Is that a fucking cat?”

“That is not what the mean when they say; ‘smash that like button’“

“Where did you learn to drive?”

“Oof.”

“I’m know I’m stupid but I’m not THAT stupid.”

#prompts #writing prompts #Aus #AU writing prompts #wayv fluff #roman angst #crack #slow burn #adventure

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

Best Revenge AU - Masks

I think like a week ago, I mentioned I was working on a write that featured Angie getting a bit more agency in the Best Revenge AU. Here’s that write, finally finished. Enjoy some of Angie’s backstory in this AU and her being more than just someone that things happen to.

——————————————————————————————

Angie and Max sat high up in one of the tallest trees in the apple orchard. It was the only place on the McGucket farm with some semblance of privacy.

“So…” Angie started hesitantly. Max looked at her. His straw-blond hair had gotten shaggy recently, to the extent that Angie didn’t know how he could see through his bangs. “I, uh, I heard back from West Coast Tech.”

“And?”

“I got in.”

“You-” Max’s jaw dropped. “Angie, that’s amazin’!” Angie smiled. “I actually just heard back from my first choice school, too. University of Southern California.”

“Where is that?”

“Los Angeles.” Max beamed. “Which ain’t that far from San Diego. We won’t be livin’ in the same city, but we won’t be that far apart.” He suddenly looked down at the branch they were sitting on nervously. “That- that is- if ya want to stay together.”

“Of course! I want to keep datin’ you!” Angie said. She scooted closer to him. Her fingers intertwined with his. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m in this fer the long haul, Sprout.” Max grinned at his pet name, derived from how his abrupt growth spurt last summer had catapulted him from Angie’s height to almost a full foot taller than her.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m in it fer the long haul, too.” He took a breath. “And, actually, since the both of us don’t have plans on breakin’ up anytime soon, I wanted to share a secret with ya.”

“Oh?” Angie said curiously. “What would that be?” Max pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to Angie. Angie looked down at the object. It was a small rock. Before she could ask why he’d given her a rock, it flew out of her hand and back into Max’s. She stared at him in shock.

“I’m a super,” Max whispered. He held out an open palm. The rock hovered above it. “Specifically, I got geokinesis.”

“…Wow,” Angie breathed.

“And…” Max swallowed. “I want to use my abilities to help people.” Angie’s excitement plummeted. “I want to be a hero.” The last bit of hope Angie had held onto, that she had somehow misunderstood what Max meant, crashed.

Oh, no! Angie’s breath caught in her throat. A hero? But... She thought back to the plans she and Lute had come up with to enter the villainy scene out west. They were both eager to follow in their parents’ criminal footsteps. I can’t be a villain if my boyfriend is a hero.

“Angie?” Max asked hesitantly. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“No, I just- this is a lot to take in,” Angie said quietly. She looked down at the ground far below them, her mind still racing. “Bein’ a hero is, it’s-”

“Yeah, it’s dangerous. But I feel like I was given my power fer a reason,” Max said. Exuberance colored his voice. “I don’t want to waste it. Y’know?”

“Yeah…”

Can I really give up on bein’ a villain fer Max? Before Angie could think on it more, there was a loud crack. The branch they were sitting on split in two. Max let out a shout. Angie quickly wrapped her arms around him, summoning winds to keep them aloft. They hovered a few inches above the ground for a moment before she carefully lowered them.

“Yer a super, too,” Max whispered. Angie broke off the embrace.

“Yeah.”

“That’s incredible!” Max put his hands on the sides of Angie’s face. “May- may I kiss ya?” he asked. Angie nodded. Max leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on her lips. “I knew you were somethin’ special,” he said once he had pulled away. He stroked her cheek. Angie leaned into the gesture, warmth spreading through her chest. “We could be heroes together!”

“No,” Angie said sharply. Max seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly.

“I understand. It ain’t fer everyone.” He smiled at her. “I love ya somethin’ fierce.”

“I love you, too,” Angie said.

But do I love him enough to give up on bein’ a villain?

“Now that I think about it, maybe it’s fer the best if yer not a hero,” Max said. “I couldn’t bear to see ya get hurt.” Angie stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Yes. I do.

-----

Angie landed in the backyard of the house she and her husband had bought back when they first got engaged. She watched her flower garden mournfully for a few moments.

I poured so much love into this place, this relationship. And I’m ‘bout to leave it all behind. The back door opened.

“Angie, is that you?” Max called.

“Yes.” Angie walked over to her husband. Max smiled at her.

“I’m glad yer home. I was startin’ to get worried ‘bout ya,” he said softly. He kissed her cheek.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Angel, I know yer very capable. But even the most prepared person can get hurt,” Max said. The familiar words sparked Angie’s simmering anger. She brushed past him roughly. “Angel?”

“Don’t call me yer angel,” Angie spat. Max followed her inside.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked, closing the door behind them. “I thought yer walk or flight or whatever would’ve cooled ya off.”

“It did.” Angie turned to face him.

“Good.” Max sighed. “I hate when ya storm off all angry fer some reason. And it’s been happenin’ so frequently lately-”

“‘Fer some reason’?” Angie demanded. “Max, I have told ya each and every time I’ve left why I’m doin’ so. So, either ya aren’t listenin’, or ya don’t think my reasons ‘re valid. And quite frankly, I ain’t sure which one’s worse!” Max walked up to her. He stroked Angie’s cheek.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay?” Max said soothingly. “Angel, I don’t want to fight.”

“I don’t want to fight either,” Angie said. She took a shaky breath. “Which is why I can’t do this no more.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Wh- but you just got here.”

“Not-” Angie met Max’s gaze directly. “Not like that. Max, I want a divorce.” Max’s amber eyes widened. One of Angie’s favorite ways to get Max to blush was to say she wanted to drink him in, just like the cream soda his eyes reminded her of. Her heart broke at the memory of all the times she’d turned him red and stuttering.

“What?! Angie, no! No, we can- we can work through this!” Max desperately reached for Angie’s hands. “You don’t- we-”

“We can’t work through this,” Angie said softly. “It’s clear to me now that what you want and what I want contradict each other.”

“That ain’t true!”

“It is!” Angie insisted. “You want a baby right away and a wife who’ll stay home to take care of him or her. I don’t want to leave my job, I don’t want a baby right now. If we stick together, only one of us will wind up happy, and the other one ‘ll be bitter.”

“That’s not- Angie, please!” Max begged. He squeezed her hands. “Remember the first time we danced!”

Freshman year of high school. Yer friends dared you to dance with me, mine dared me to dance with you.

“Our first kiss!”

Under the mistletoe during Christmas break, when ya came over to play games with Lute, but wound up helpin’ me bake treats in the kitchen. You tasted like the sugar cookies we made together.

“When we went to college!”

We spent every weekend together, stayin’ up late and wakin’ up early just so’s we wouldn’t waste a single minute with each other.

“Our wedding!”

When you lifted my veil, ya looked at me like I was the sunrise. A single tear traced its way down Angie’s cheek. Like I was the most beautiful woman in the world, and the only thing in yours.

“Don’t you remember?” Max asked. Angie choked back a sob.

“I do remember. That’s the problem.”

“What- what do you mean?”

“You aren’t the person you were when we made those memories together.”

“What?” Max whispered. Angie pulled her hands away.

“You’ve changed, Max. The memories I hold most dear are all from when ya encouraged me to be adventurous, when ya followed me into trouble without a thought, when ya asked ‘fore kissin’ me.”

“Do you want me to ask before I kiss you? I can do that.”

“It’s just an example.” Angie looked away. “An example of how ya used to care about my opinion. Ya don’t anymore.”

“That’s not-”

“Don’t lie,” Angie snapped, suddenly driven to her breaking point. “If ya cared ‘bout my feelin’s or thoughts, we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation!” She turned away. “I’m grabbin’ a bag to stay at Lute’s fer the night.”

“No!” Max grabbed Angie’s wrist. “Don’t leave!” Angie let out a soft gasp of pain at the strength of his grip.

That’s goin’ to leave a mark, ain’t it?

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“No.”

“Let me go,” Angie repeated firmly. “Or I’ll make you.”

“How?” Max asked. Angie ground her teeth. She stomped on Max’s foot, making him yelp in pain. Using the moment of surprise to her advantage, she ripped her hand free of Max’s grip and grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back. She shoved him to the ground.

“That’s how,” she spat. “All those times ya told me I was too fragile to walk down the street at night, I was actually capable of takin’ down a trained superhero.”

“Where did you-”

“It ain’t yer business where I learned how to fight. If I planned on stayin’ with ya, maybe I’d tell ya. But since I’m leavin’, I won’t say a word.” Angie let Max go. He stayed on the floor, still in shock. “And since ya can’t behave yourself, I’m goin’ to Lute’s now. He’ll drop by later to pick up some things fer me.” Max slowly sat up. He looked up at Angie with plaintive eyes.

“Angel…”

“Eat shit,” Angie snarled. She stormed out through the door she had entered not even ten minutes ago. Before she took flight, she looked down at her wrist. Like she’d feared, the skin was already turning purple. Bile rose in her throat.

“Angie!” Max shouted. A gust of wind blew the back door shut, then lifted Angie into the air. Tears streaming down her face, she looked back at the house one last time.

“Goodbye, Sprout.”

-----

Angie and Stan sat on the roof of Stan’s apartment complex. From their spot on the ledge, they could see the city bustling far below. Angie idly kicked her legs, which, like Stan’s, dangled over the edge, high above the streets.

These shoes better not fall off ‘n hit some poor pedestrian.

“I like the view,” Angie said idly.

“Yeah. It’s kinda weird, actually,” Stan said.

“That ya like the view?” Angie asked. Stan nodded. “Why?”

“When I was a kid, I was afraid of heights.”

“Really?” Angie stared at her boyfriend. “Ya don’t seem the type to be easily spooked.”

“Flattery, huh?”

“No, truth.” Angie tilted her head, smiling. “Yer a rather brave feller.” The compliment got her intended reaction. Stan immediately blushed. “So, what made ya stop bein’ afraid of heights?”

“Well…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I stopped being afraid of heights when I realized I could use my powers to fly. No point in being scared of falling if you won’t ever hit the ground.” Angie opened her mouth. “Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m a super.” Stan held out his hand. Fire crackled into life above his open palm.

“Oh, I knew that,” Angie said. The fire disappeared. Stan stared at her. “I was just goin’ to say that now I know yer at least a level two, if not level three pyro.”

“How- you- what-” Stan stammered. Angie smiled.

“Not to insult you or anything, but pyros ain’t exactly rare. I know how to spot one.”

“Oh.” Stan grinned. “Makes sense you’d be able to spot a super, since you’re one, too.” Angie’s jaw dropped. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re pretty good at hiding it. But there’ve been a few times where you get worked up, and suddenly it’s really windy, even though we’re inside and all the doors and windows are closed. You’re an aerokinetic, right?”

“Yer more clever than ya claim to be,” Angie commented, still reeling from Stan’s revelation. “Especially since aerokinesis is a pretty rare power. Most folks don’t even realize it exists.”

“My mom knew an aero,” Stan said with a shrug. He took a deep breath. “But me being a super isn’t the only thing I need to tell you.”

“Oh?”

“I’m also a mask.”

Shit. Angie’s blood ran cold. It would be just my luck if I’ve only ever dated two people and they were both heroes.

“If ya don’t mind me askin’, which, ah, side do ya fight on?” Angie asked carefully. Stan winced.

“The illegal side.” He held up his hands. “I know you’re probably the kinda person who doesn’t like the…law-avoidant community. But-”

“I don’t mind none.”

“Wait, really?”

“Ya don’t do any of the really bad stuff, right?” Angie asked. “Just things like theft?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Then my statement stands. I don’t mind,” Angie said, struggling to keep her response mild. Stan gaped at her. “Yer a good man, whether ya steal or not.”

He’s a villain! He’s a pyro villain. Angie searched Stan’s face. Oh, he’s prob’ly that coworker Lute likes. What’s his name? Flamethrower.

“You really don’t care I’m a villain?” Stan pried.

I prefer it.

“Nope.” Angie smiled sweetly. “I care ‘bout who ya are as a person.” Stan smiled back. “But I do have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Why are ya tellin’ me this? We’ve only been datin’ fer a month.”

“My gut said I could trust you,” Stan said with a shrug. “My gut’s never been wrong.”

“That’s why ya felt comfortable tellin’ me,” Angie said. “Not why ya told me.” Stan eyed her. “If ya don’t want to share, ya don’t have to. But don’t dress up an answer I didn’t ask fer as the one I did.” Stan managed a crooked grin.

“Damn. There’s no fooling you.”

“My folks raised me right.”

Any villain worth their salt has to be good at controllin’ a conversation.

“Well, you figured out I was trying to get out of telling you, so I guess you’ve earned the answer,” Stan said, rubbing the back of his neck. He sighed. “My mom was a hero. But she didn’t tell my Pops until she already had three kids with him. She didn’t even tell him she was a super.”

“Really? That seems…” Angie paused to search for the right word. “Ill-advised.” Stan snorted.

“No shit. Pops woulda liked some warning before I burst into flames while he was holding me. That’s how my powers manifested. Pops was drying me off after a bath. I caught on fire.” Stan snickered. “Luckily, he hadn’t drained the tub yet, so he chucked me back in and shouted for my mom. Mom had to come clean after that.”

“Does pyrokinesis run in yer fam’ly?”

“Nope. Not even close. My mom’s got your basic ESP package. Shermie’s a normie. And Ford’s got some weird teleportation thing.”

“Who are Shermie and Ford?”

“Shermie’s my older brother. Ford’s not important.” Stan looked away. His voice suddenly became mournful. “Not right now, anyways.” Angie put her hand on his shoulder. He looked at her with a weak smile. “But, um, back to the stuff with my parents. Shermie says that their marriage wasn’t exactly ideal before, but after Pops found out she was a superhero and kept it from him, it got worse. I like how things are going, Ang. I don’t wanna keep a big thing from you and risk you leaving me.” Angie reached for Stan’s hand and intertwined her fingers with his. “This is the best relationship I’ve ever been in.”

“I’d say the same, but it ain’t as great a compliment, since I only ever dated one person ‘fore ya,” Angie said. Stan chuckled. Angie squeezed Stan’s hand. “Thank you fer tellin’ me.”

“Like I said, my gut says I can trust you.”

“Yer gut is right.” Angie grinned deviously. “I ain’t no snitch.” Stan laughed again. Angie leaned against him, her head on his shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered, for the first time since she’d left Max. Stan rested his head on top of hers.

“I love you, too.”

#mmm yes there are some good Feels in this here write #v proud of it. it was fun to write some Angie/Max stuff #god I love this AU (and I love getting asks about it.......)#Best Revenge AU #Angie McGucket #Stanley Pines #Stangie #ficlet #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks #Junior Pines

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Seashells To My Heart, Chapter 1 (Biadore Mermaid AU) - Whiskey Neat

A/N: PLEASE READ!! I wrote this a while back. It’s meant to be chaptered but I have not been able to come up with anything past this first chapter and I don’t currently have plans to continue it. I hate to leave it unfinished so if any other authors are interested in writing more chapters, please feel free. I’d love to see where you guys could take this story! The only thing I ask is that you please give it a happy ending. With that being said, happy reading! (and hopefully writing too)

Summary: Adore and Bianca are soulmate mermaids living happily in the sea. But one day Adore gets captured by humans and it’s Bianca’s job to save her.

It was a warm spring day and Adore and Bianca were happily swimming through the ocean water. They stopped every so often to admire some coral or to indulge in some PDA, depending on whether or not anyone was around.

The two mermaids were soulmates and they spent almost all their time together. In fact, they hadn’t spent more than one night apart ever since they started dating 2 months ago. Being apart for long periods of time caused them both severe heartache. Like actual physical heartache. Their bond was stronger than anything anyone had ever seen and it needed to be maintained carefully.

They were holding hands and humming softly as they swam along, when suddenly a large net came out of nowhere, surrounding them. They both panicked and violently wiggled around trying to escape. Bianca was able to free herself but Adore still struggled against the net that was quickly tightening around her. Bianca rushed to help untangle her lover but was unsuccessful, and before she knew it, Adore was pulled from her grip as the net lifted her up towards the surface of the water.

“Bianca, help me!” Adore cried out in fear.

“Adore!” Bianca yelled, as she caught her last glimpse of Adore’s long blue hair before the younger girl was completely out of sight.

Bianca swam after her as quickly as she could but it was too late. When she reached the surface, the boat was already speeding away with Adore, her screams barely audible over the hum of the engine. Bianca dove back underwater and rushed to find literally anyone who could help her figure out where those evil humans were taking Adore.

_________

The humans kept Adore tangled up in the net until they were on land and reached a medium sized building that had many windows and a pool in it. Despite Adore’s fierce struggling, they managed to pick her up and carry her inside, finally releasing her from the net, and dumping her into the pool.

The water was cold. Very cold. She shivered violently as she backed up into a corner on the opposite side of the pool, trying to stay as far away from her captors as possible.

“You’ll stay here until we want you to come sing for us, understand?” One of the men told her.

Adore just stayed silent and stared at them with wide glassy eyes. She was still shivering and at this point she couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the fear.

“What, your voice doesn’t work anymore, fish face?” Another man spat.

“Come over here.” The first man demanded.

Adore didn’t move.

“I guess I’ll just have to keep this then…” the man told her, holding up a beautiful bracelet made of seashells. Adore recognized it immediately. Bianca made that bracelet for her. It must’ve fallen off while she was in the net. That was the last connection to her soulmate that she had. She desperately needed it back so she timidly swam back across the pool towards the two men.

The more rude of the two grabbed the bracelet from the other and knelt down in front of Adore.

Adore held out her hand, but instead of just handing it to her, the man put it on her wrist himself. “There you go, my pretty” he said and proceeded to stroke her cheek in a suggestive way. Adore felt sick. She spit in the mans face and he looked at her angrily.

“You bit-” he started, attempting to swing at the blue haired girl but she had already retreated back into her corner at the other side of the pool.

The man who didn’t get spit on pulled the other man up by the arm and led him towards the door. “Just give her time to get comfortable.” He said as they exited the room, leaving Adore all alone.

“Just give her time to get comfortable.” Adore repeated in her head.

Time.

Get comfortable.

Two things that Adore didn’t want. Suddenly the full reality of the situation set in. What if she was stuck here forever? She would probably never see Bianca again and the ache in her chest spoke to that.

She needed Bianca. Her soulmate. She didn’t want to live without her. She didn’t think she could live without her. Adore ran her fingers over the fragile seashells on her bracelet. “I love you.” She whispered, finally letting herself cry.

Not even realizing she fell asleep, Adore awoke a few hours later to the sound of someone coming into the room. The nicer man from earlier carried in a plate of food and set it on the edge of the pool, motioned for her to come eat, and then walked back out the door. Eating was the last thing she felt like doing right now so she ignored the food and rested her arms back on the side of the pool, hiding her face in them, and letting herself sink back into the pit of heartbreak and despair that she was feeling.

The next two days were the same. The man brought her food twice each day and she ignored it every time, continuing to lay there, completely focused on the feeling of her heart slowly falling apart.

The fourth day was different. Instead of the usual man bringing her food, it was a young blonde girl, no older than 14, who brought her a fresh plate of seaweed. Instead of leaving the room immediately after delivering the food like the man had, the girl came and sat down on the side of the pool next to Adore. She could sense the sadness radiating from the mermaid and she wanted to help her.

“My dad said you’re not eating.” the girl said.

Adore heard her, but didn’t look up. She didn’t have the energy to. This whole experience had drained all the life out of her, and not eating for the past 3 days hadn’t helped.

“I’m Courtney, what’s your name?” The girl continued.

No answer.

“Can I braid your hair?” Courtney asked.

Another piece of Adore’s heart cracked as she was reminded of all the times Bianca had braided her hair, weaving pretty little flowers into it as she did so. A single tear ran down her cheek as she gave Courtney a small nod, craving the contact of another living being, but still keeping her face hidden in her arms.

Courtney’s fingers had begun combing through her tangled blue locks when suddenly Adore let out a sob and looked up at the young girl.

“I miss her.” She choked out, voice sounding raspy and weak from not speaking for so long.

“Who?” Courtney asked, still stroking her hair.

“B-Bianca, my soulmate. I m-miss her so much, I need to go back. I need to go back!” Adore sobbed.

“Back where? To the ocean?”

Adore nodded frantically. “P-please, just l-let me go back…”

“I’m going to tell you something, okay? But you can’t tell anyone.” Courtney began.

Adore sniffled and nodded again.

“I hate what my father does. He captures mermaids like you and holds them captive for their beautiful voices. He uses them for entertainment at these big parties and then he auctions them off at the end of the night, where they’re taken away by some random stranger. I don’t know what happens after that but no mermaid has ever come back here after one of those parties.”

Adore’s eyes widened. “No! I have to go back to Bianca! Don’t let them take me away!” She begged, grabbing Courtney’s hand.

Courtney gripped the mermaids hand tightly. “I’m not going to. Once I figured out what he was doing, I knew that it wasn’t okay. So lately I’ve been helping you guys escape. My dad doesn’t know and he’d kill me if he found out. This is very risky but I’m going to help you get back to Bianca…but I need your help too, okay?” Courtney explained.

“Of course! I’ll do anything!” Adore told her, perking up at the thought of being reunited with her soulmate and getting out of this hell hole.

#rpdr fanfiction #biadore #adore delano #bianca del rio #courtney act #mermaid au #angst #fluff #seashells to my heart #whiskey neat #submission

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katobobato · 3 years

Text

To Say Goodbye

➳ pairing: lee tamin x reader ➳ genre: angst, resurrection au, zombie au, a little fluff in there too ➳ warnings: body decay, blood and gore, witchcraft, death ➳ word count: 5158 ➳ rating: pg-15 ➳ prompt: It was halloween so if there was any time to try and resurrect your dead lover with an ancient incarnation, today was that day. ➳ event: halloween at kfn

It had been coming up for half a year since the incident. Almost half a year without him.

y/n had been coping well it seemed, at least, that's what she showed on the outside. She was composed and fearless, still in mourning but life carries on, even without him. On the inside, however, she was barely holding herself together, the threads of her soul slowly fraying and unwinding.

She was heartbroken, lost in a monochrome world completely void of all colour, all alone yet surrounded by many. She had her family and friends, but that wasn't enough because she didn't have him.

When they'd started dating a couple of years prior to the incident, he was the first man to truly make her smile. They laughed together, they had fun together and most of all, they were happy. They had started out as friends long before that, back in high school actually, but only dared to push their relationship further once they reached adulthood.

To describe how deep in love they were, just before the time of his passing, would be a difficult task. Think of the deepest depths of the ocean, the gap between heaven and hell, the length of space between the Earth and the moon. Even then, it would not be enough. To say they were soulmates would almost be an understatement.

There will never be another like him, there will never be another Lee Taemin. No one, in this life or the next, would even compare to him. He was the stars in her night sky. He was the moon that pulled the tides. He was the force of gravity keeping her on the ground.

She couldn't live without him. At least, not without saying a proper goodbye.

And so, y/n found herself wandering the streets of New Orleans, the place she had grown to call home, a home she had shared with him. If you had seen her strolling through the streets you wouldn't think she was searching for anything in particular. Just a girl walking down the street, with no goal in mind.

But there was something on her mind, the reason fuelling her outing, she was going to find a witch that could contact the dead.

y/n was never one to really believe in the witchcraft and voodoo that was said to have found it's home in New Orleans but after moving here for herself, she could feel it. The way something magical would flow down the streets, in the air between the buildings. It was everywhere, like a presence you couldn't see. At times, it felt like a warm home, the smell of fresh flowers on a sunny day. At others it felt more like an ominous presence, a pair of eyes watching your every move from where they were lurking in the darkness.

The so-called magic of New Orleans, if it truly was real, had her wondering if it was good or rather the work of demons. Before losing her lover to the claws of death, she would have heeded the warnings she had seen on tv and read in books. Now, however, so distraught with grief, she no longer cared.

By the time she stopped walking, her feet had brought her to a little shop hidden in the corner of a crooked backstreet. It seemed as though a wandering soul would miss it, never even noticing it was there, but y/n had felt a pull to it from the moment she stepped foot outside of her apartment. A shop that picked the customers perhaps, rather than the customers choosing the shop.

The windows were tinted, making it difficult to see the dark interior beyond. A sign outside displayed the name 'Lucifer's Wing - Magic Supplies' in a fancy, golden text. It looked old, from the decaying wooden window frames to the rusted door knob.

Although y/n hadn't gotten her hopes up, she reached out for that rusty door handle and sucked in a deep breath before turning it and heading inside.

Her nose involuntarily scrunched up at the unusual smell that flooded into it. It wasn't a particularly bad smell, nor was it particularly pleasant. It was simply strong, a very strong fragrance of which she had never quite smelt before.

Not only was the smell weird, but so was the rest of the shop. Shelves filled with old books, jars full of all kinds of abnormalities, not to mention all the unusual objects that were littered about on pretty much every kind of surface. An ugly, red and green rug, that was more brown and faded from old age, sat on the floor in front of the counter.

"Just grind up the newt tail and mix it with the raven beak. You should see improvements by tomorrow."

Two normal-looking New Orleanians were at that counter, their shoes further dirtying the dusty rug beneath them. They didn't even glance at y/n as they left the shop, taking their small package out with them as they discussed things about their unusual instructions from the shopkeeper.

When y/n finally got a good look at the woman behind the counter, she wasn't particularly surprised by her appearance at all. Not when the shop itself looked so, well, peculiar. Her hair was long and crimped, frizzing out a little bit too much. Her makeup was heavy, layer upon layer of eyeliner paired with dark eyeshadow and matte lips. She looked, well, if y/n didn't know any better, she'd say she looked like a witch.

"Now, what can I do for you?" Her voice was hoarse as she tilted her head, examining y/n with a hazy gaze.

"A grimoire perhaps? Or maybe a simple hex bag?"

y/n stepped forwards, approaching the woman to ask of her what it was she had come for, "Can you speak to the dead?"

The woman hummed and placed a slender finger to her chin, "Who could the young girl miss so dearly? Her mother? Her father? A friend taken too soon? Or perhaps... a lost lover?"

y/n nodded, her words now suddenly stuck in her throat.

"How did they die?" The woman inquired, leaning forward with a sudden peak of interest.

With an almost shaky breath, y/n replied, "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I'm going to need more to go on than that, pretty."

It hurt to think of it. It hurt to speak of it. It hurt to remember it.

"H- He went out one day and never came home. It was a robbery gone wrong. He tried to stop them and they shot him. They shot him to rob a fucking cash register."

Her emotion shot out like a whirlwind. You could hear the pain in her voice. How distraught she was to lose someone she loved for such a petty, pointless reason. Even she was surprised by her own words, she had sworn in front of a stranger. How rude. How unlike her.

"Please," Her voice was faint again, realising that she had lost her composure for but a moment, "I just want to say goodbye."

The shopkeeper smiled, although it was not a warming smile. Everything about it was cold, sinister even. As if she were amused by the tragedy that befell such a young couple.

"I can do you one better than that."

y/n watched as the woman turned around, rummaging through the shelves behind her as she searched for something. Something that, hopefully, was going to grant y/n that goodbye she wished for so dearly.

When she returned to the girl, the shopkeeper had an old parchment in hand. It looked ancient, so fragile that it would crumble away the moment she set it down. And yet, somehow, it remained intact.

"Take this. Speak the incantation over his grave at the witching hour on all hallows eve, when the veil between life and death is at it's thinnest. It will grant you what you wish for, maybe even more than that."

y/n took the paper, skimming her eyes over a language she only recognised as Latin before her eyes flickered back to the shopkeeper, "How much is it?"

"Free of charge, well, to me. You will pay your price when it is due, I only hope you will be prepared to pay it." The woman warned although y/n didn't take it as a serious threat.

"I'll pay whatever price, I just want to see him again. I just want to say goodbye." She held the parchment with great care and smiled, "Thank you."

With that, she was leaving the shop just as quickly as she had arrived. Taking a long, thoughtful stroll back to her apartment, their apartment.

Did she honestly think this incantation would work? No. Was she praying that she would be wrong? Yes.

It wouldn't work, there was no way it would, but she needed it to. Just a chance to say goodbye, that was all she wanted.

If only she knew what was to come.

y/n waited somewhat impatiently over the next few days but soon, all hallows eve was upon her. She had put a bowl of sweets outside, allowing any trick-or-treaters to help themselves as she would not be at home.

She knew she was going too early, she had to wait for the witching hour, after all. But she wanted to be with him. Just to sit with him for a while as she read the incantation over and over in her head to make sure that she would get it right when the time came.

Before long, the witching hour had arrived.

y/n stood up and placed a gentle hand on the tombstone. Her fingers ran over the engraving, 'Lee Taemin - Beloved Son and Cherished Friend'.

"It's now or never." y/n spoke to him, or perhaps herself, and took a couple of steps back.

With shaky hands, she held the parchment up in front of her and cleared her throat only to mutter under her breath, "Here goes."

"Hic en spiritum sed non incorpore evokare lemures de mortuis decretum espugnare de angelus balberith en inferno inremeablis."

Once she read the incantation, the wind seemed to blow, chilling her skin. She waited but nothing happened.

So, she read the incantation again and again as she prayed to see him one last time. All she wanted was to hear his voice, better yet to see his spirit before her. Just so that she could see him, hear him, one last time. Just to say goodbye.

But to no prevail.

"I knew it was fake. I was a fool to wish otherwise." y/n sighed, eyes already glassing over with tears.

In her hand, the parchment was crumpled to nothing, scattered pieces blowing off in the wind. It didn't work, it was never going to work. What was she thinking?

She fell to her knees, fingers digging into the soil that occupied the space over his grave, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I love you, I love you so much."

As her tears dripped down, wetting the Earth with her sorrow, she finally said goodbye. She would always love him, always.

It was with a heavy heart that she headed home, leaving behind the dream of seeing her lover again. She fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, tears staining the soft fabric beneath her. Exhaustion had taken its toll on her. Exhaustion from hoping, believing too much in the unknown. Exhaustion from grief and being alone.

A few hours passed, night relieved by the early morning.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

y/n sat up, stretching her tired limbs as another knock sounded at the door. Leaving the warmth of her bed and submitting herself to the cold, she began to head for the door.

"Don't those kids know that the time for trick-or-treating is over?" She sighed, reaching out to open the door and tell them to go home.

When the door opened, her entire world stopped spinning. Or, perhaps, it began to spin so fast that she had grown dizzy and begun to see things that were not truly there.

Dark brown eyes. That fluffy, dirty blonde hair she loved to run her fingers through. Eyebrow slits he thought looked edgy, but she just found cute. Every single inch of his face was so familiar, so new, something she felt she hadn't seen in years but could have also been something had seen just yesterday.

"y/n... I- I didn't know where else to go."

The moment he spoke, confirming that he was truly there, she threw her arms around him. Tears rolled down her cheeks, tears much different than the ones that came before. It wasn't what she had expected, to be reunited with her lover like this, but he was alive. He was with her again and that was all that mattered.

When y/n finally released him, she stepped back to look at him once again.

Dirt. Lots of dirt, he was covered in it. It was matted between his hair, smudged across his cheek, wedged under his fingernails. Had he climbed out of his own grave? But his body wasn't broken, wasn't decomposed. It was as if he were as good as new.

"Let's get you in a bath." She smiled, gently taking his hand in her own as she led him inside.

Once the bath was run, steam warming the previously frosty room, she left him to it whilst she prepared some clothes of his that she just hadn't had the strength to throw away before.

He sat there, absentmindedly scrubbing the dirt off of him, thinking about so many things.

I'm dead. I died. Didn't I? So why am I here now? Why am I alive again? Am I really alive again?

He had so many questions but ultimately, he was just glad to be back home. Back with her. Back with y/n.

"So, what do you remember?" She asked, rubbing his hair loosely with a towel.

"I..." Taemin sighed, "I remember dying. I died and then there was nothing, plunged into eternal darkness. Until I woke up in- in front of my grave."

y/n looked at him softly, putting the towel down to cup her hand around his face, "I didn't know what to do without you. I didn't know how to go on. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. That was all I wanted. This... to have you back is more than I could have ever hoped for."

She was crying again before she realised it. A steady stream of salty tears wetting her cheeks once again.

Although hesitantly, he reached up to touch her, gentle fingers ghosting over her face. He wiped her tears away and took her hand in his, bringing it up to his lips for a tender kiss.

"How- How did you do this? How did you bring me back?"

He was so confused. He shouldn't be here, not that he didn't want to be. He wanted nothing more than to be by her side, to hold her in his arms, to kiss her softly and tell her everything was alright. But he didn't understand. He needed to understand.

"I found a shopkeeper... I think she was a witch. She gave me an old incantation and told me to read it over your grave at the witching hour on all hallows eve." y/n explained, her hand returning to his cheek, thumb stroking over it gently.

"It's Halloween? How long have I been gone for?"

She sighed and leaned forwards, resting her head against his shoulder, "Six months."

Instinctively, his hand went to her head, stroking it affectionately.

"I'm sorry," There was a pause as he leaned his head against her own, just wanting to be near her, "Sorry for leaving you."

y/n lifted her head, shaking it and looked at him with a smile, "Don't be. You're back now, that's what matters. It worked, the incantation actually worked."

The way his mouth curved so affectionately as he rubbed his head against her own slightly, much like a cat would to its owner, was so full of love. He may not have remembered anything of the afterlife, or perhaps there wasn't one to remember, but he felt as though he hadn't seen her for an eternity. He just wanted to treasure her, to love her, to hold her.

She reached for his hand, interlacing her fingers with his own.

"I love you," She said, "I love you so much."

He squeezed her hand as if to say; I'm here, I'm not leaving you again. With his other, he wiped the tears from her eyes, although soon the thumb that was drying her eyes was replaced by something else.

Each eye. He kissed under each eye, tasting the salty tears she had shed for him. He never wanted her to cry because of him again, he never wanted to leave her again.

Pulling her close to his chest, he nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck. It really was real, he really was back with her.

A part of her feared that he would be gone come sunrise. This was too good to be true. Was he really back for good? Was his soul truly intact? For now, she didn't care. She just needed him. She needed him almost as much as he needed her.

"I love you." She said again, pulling away to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you too." His words were pure, romantic, gentle even. He was just glad to be back with her, back by her side.

They were soulmates, or maybe something more. Two souls, two hearts, two bodies, completely intertwined.

By the time morning came, he was still by her side. She smiled, hand smoothing over his chest as she looked up at him. His stomach raised and then, it fell. He was breathing, he was alive, he was with her once again. Not a spirit, not a monster, not a figment of her imagination, but flesh and blood.

He looked so peaceful, so angelic as he slept beside her. The sun crept in through the blinds, giving his features an almost golden glow. Maybe he was just that, an angel brought back to Earth in order to reunite with his lover once again. Maybe, if there was a God, they had sent him back to her.

Taemin's eyes soon fluttered open, his eyes rolling over the curves of her body that hid beneath the covers. He smiled and began to delicately run his fingers up and down her bare shoulder.

"Morning." His voice was groggy, full of sleep and love.

A warm smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "I've missed this."

They spent all morning in bed, lying by each other's sides. Pillow talk and tangled legs.

By lunch, however, rumbling stomachs finally pulled them from their bed.

"Pancakes?" Taemin opened the fridge to collect the eggs and milk.

y/n was already looking in the cupboard, pulling out a bowl before searching the drawers for a whisk, "Already one step ahead."

Cooking was always an adventure when it came to the two of them, especially when it could easily get messy. Flour covered every surface, including their own hands and faces. They giggled, laughing together as they finally began flipping the pancakes.

Eating lunch was as fun as making it. Giggles and whispers of love as they smiled oh-so warmly at each other across the table.

By the time it began to grow dark outside, they were lying on the sofa watching a movie. It was one of their favourites, one they'd watched so many times together. y/n thought she'd never get to watch it with him again but here she was, lying in his arms, completely content as they quietly watched the movie.

Neither of them was truly paying attention to the film. Both of them were far too focused on each other. The way it felt to be so close, feeling the warmth of each other's body heat seep through the clothes that separated them. He loved this, the feeling of holding her in his arms again. She too was the happiest she'd ever been. She thought she'd lost him forever but they had been granted another chance. A miracle perhaps.

Or maybe... something a little more sinister.

A couple more days had passed and everything seemed well. They had been on a date in the park, his first time outside since coming back. The two of them had talked about how they would tell others that he was alive. How they'd explain it to everyone. He wanted to see his parents so dearly. Both knew that this might not be the best idea, however. They would freak out, they wouldn't understand. He had died, they all knew that. They, although distraught, had made peace with it. If he was to see them, he needed an explanation that didn't sound ridiculous or simply scare them away.

Their date had gone well. They had had fun together, walking around, taking in the fresh air. It was a good day. It was only when they returned home, later in the day, that Taemin began to feel that something was wrong.

"You okay?" y/n asked, noticing the way his eyes seemed somewhat sunken.

With a smile, he nodded, "Yeah, just tired."

It was a lie. A lie he almost believed himself. A lie he so desperately needed to believe was true because he didn't want something to be wrong. Instead of worrying about it, or worrying her about it, he hid it. He ignored it.

They bathed together that night. Both soaking in the bath until they went pruney. y/n rested her head against his chest, smiling as he softly ran the tips of his fingers along her arms.

"I've missed this. I've missed you." She sighed, taking his hand in her own.

He hummed against her hair, pressing a loving kiss against her head, "I missed you too."

He truly did miss her, even if he had no perception of how much time it had been since he last saw her before he died. Perhaps time simply wasn't a thing after death and that was why it had felt like so long but also only hours at the same time. Six months. She was without him for six months, and he was without her. For her, it was agonising. For him, well, he only noticed how much he missed her once he came back.

He held her close that night, smiling as she slept quietly in his arms, for he was beginning to feel as though he might lose her again. He knew she couldn't bear the thought of it happening all over again, watching helplessly as he was taken from her again but, as the sun set far below their feet, the cloudy night sky now overhead, he began to feel as though it was going to happen again. It was going to happen again and much sooner than they had wished for.

He kept that feeling, that knowing, from her for days. Everything was normal, even as his eyes began to look more sunken than usual. I'm just tired, he would tell her. She, like a fool, believed him.

It was his idea to try out a new recipe, a recipe his mother used to make for him. They had always liked to cook together, always treasured that time with each other. They were having fun, reading through the recipe on her phone. He stood behind her, head on her shoulder, hands holding hers as they mixed the ingredients in the wok.

Stir-fried Korean beef, a recipe from his home. He already knew how to make it but pretended not to so that he could learn again, with her. A meal to remember him by, a meal to enjoy. He didn't want to leave a sour taste in her mouth. He wanted to leave behind a pleasant taste, a lingering goodness that she could enjoy. If she liked the meal, that was.

"It's so good!" She grinned from ear to ear, devouring the delicious food they had created together.

He felt his lips curl upwards slightly, smiling so gently. It was a sad smile.

"You'll have to try out new things when I'm no longer around." It was a mumble, but she still heard it.

y/n dropped her food and tilted her head, confused, "What do you mean? You've only just come back, you're not going anywhere."

He avoided her eyes, watching them search his face as if trying to decipher what he was staying, and moulded his face into a reassuring smile, "So, after dinner, I was thinking we could go for a walk?"

She knew he was avoiding the question but didn't press on the matter. A part of her didn't want to know. She didn't want to know what he meant by that, what he was trying to say. Although, she couldn't stop the feeling of unease that had settled into the very core of her bones, shaking through her like waves of nausea.

A few more days passed and he left her during the night, droopy body heading for the bathroom. He turned the tap on, hoping the steady stream of water would ground him, and looked into the mirror. His face was pale, almost deathly so. Any rose he had in his cheeks seemed to have been painted over. His eyes were sunken, dark circles surrounding them. Dry skin, chapped lips, no colour. He looked like a walking corpse, or perhaps simply someone who was rather unwell.

y/n had noticed it. She hadn't said anything out of fear. If she acknowledged it, asked about it, she feared it would truly become real. Something was wrong, very wrong. Taemin knew it, y/n knew it. She was scared to ask, he was scared to tell her. He didn't want to see her in pain again, he couldn't watch it happen again.

Fingertips ran along his protruding cheekbone until it reached that dark skin under his eye. His nail looked black around the edges and, with a sleepy curiosity, he pulled at it with his other hand. It was such a light, delicate movement. And yet, the nail slipped so easily from his body, coming off with a trail of goo. A mix of blood and God knows what else.

He closed his eyes, focusing once again on the running water. It was calming, peaceful. The darkness that surrounded him, the lack of anything. It was pleasant, it was familiar. It was death.

Before he had realised it, he had already adapted to the life after death. It wasn't the same as life on Earth, it was different, empty. It wasn't, however, in any way bad. He couldn't remember much but he knew he felt at peace. He had made his peace with it, she had not. The living didn't know how to let go but the dead... the dead had already moved on.

She called him back. She forced him back. He wanted to see her, he was so glad that they had just a little more time together but that time was quickly running out. He only released it then, as he opened his eyes and looked down at his nail-less finger, tugging ever so gently on the limb until it broke free from his body and fell down into the sink. The stream of water fell down onto it, claiming it as death had already claimed him.

There was no pain and very little blood. He was already dead, he was never truly alive again. His time had passed and he had made peace with that. She hadn't, y/n hadn't.

"W-What's-"

She was in the doorway not long after feeling the chilling cold beside her in bed. She almost asked, she almost confirmed it. But, when she saw her lover, his body slowing starting to break down, it was too late. It was real.

"I can't stay much longer." Taemin sighed, finally understanding what was happening to him, to them.

He wasn't sad. He had had time to see her again, to say goodbye. That was what she wanted, wasn't it? A chance to say goodbye.

The witch had never said the incantation was permanent, nor had she ever said it would bring him back to life. He wasn't here to stay, he was here to help her move on. Truly a dead man walking.

y/n felt like she was suffocating, it was as if the whole world was crumbling down around her. It was raining, distorting the painting before her. He was alive, he was with her again. The painting had lied and now, those lies were washing away.

"Don't cry." He stepped forwards, wiping away the tears she hadn't even realised had started to fall.

Her world was crumbling. Her life, his life, fading away.

"It's okay, y/n. It's okay. I'm here, I'll always be here."

She couldn't listen, she didn't want to listen. She didn't want to hear this, to hear his goodbye. She wasn't ready... she'd only just gotten him back.

"I- I- I can't-" Her voice was strangled, hands balling into his shirt, "I can't lose you again." She held on tight, too afraid to let go, "I- I'll go with you, I'll die with you-"

He sighed and pulled her to his chest, feeling her warmth for one last time as he cradled her head in his hands, "You can't. You have to live on."

She cried harder, holding onto him even tighter than before.

"You don't need to worry. You must live in the present and remember me when I'm gone. Until the day comes when I must leave you again, treasure these last few days we have together but, when it's over, I need you to move on. Live a wonderful life, live a happy life. For me, for your friends, for your family. Fall in love again, have children and grandchildren. Teach them how to cook, make pancakes with them. Just... be happy."

He wasn't going to leave her that day. He might not even leave her the next, but the day was coming. The day he would have to leave again, to go back.

"I love you." He whispered into her hair, a memory she would treasure.

He loved her and she loved him. They always would, but time moves on, people move on, and she would too.

Tears streaked down her face, a steady stream mimicking the running tap, "I love you too... So much."

#halloweenatkfn #kpopficsnetwork #bangtanidx #btswriterscollective #lee taemin #taemin angst #taemin x reader #taemin x you

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goodfortune-au · 3 years

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Good Fortune (Soulmate AU) Chapter 12: Dream Come True

All it takes is a few whispered words, a few delicate, tender touches, and just like that, Angel feels all her misery starting to melt away. She knows the voice, can tell even without seeing that it’s him, the object of her dreams and all of her enduring, burning desire. Pennywise. It’s Pennywise. She can hardly believe the thoughts in her head, her mind racing to accommodate the confusion as it frantically works to assess the current situation. Those kisses are divine as he works his way up the slope of her neck, and now that he’s here her body is buzzing, it's crying, every drop of her blood is screaming out for his touch. Without conscious thought she submits to the sensation of his hand working gentle trails down the skin of her thigh, the sensation of cool and decadent silk making her sick with some kind of longing she didn’t fully understand. And all the while he continues breathing into her neck, scenting her, drinking in the delicious aroma of her yearning, so compelling and utterly powerful that she practically radiates it, bathes in it. She’s melting into his chest, her body fitting in so perfectly with his, two puzzle pieces simply meant for one another and she wants to stay like this forever, but before she knows what she’s doing she’s rolled over to face him. She buries her face into the breadth of his chest and starts to sob; long, drawn out wailing sobs that she drowns in the grey silk of his suit. But despite it all, despite the misery of before, despite all the fear and dread and uncertainty, she’s not crying out for any of those things. No, she’s crying out of happiness; pure, unadulterated, unabashed elation. She’s hugging him so tightly and he simply returns the gesture, pulling her closer to him, shushing her gently, offering her solace in lullaby words.

“Shhh...Shhhhhhh… It’s okay, my girl… I’m here…” He whispers. His words are gentle clouds in a tranquil, blue sky. She simply floats among them, a weightless passenger, gravity all nonsense now. “You don’t have to cry, don’t have to be lonely anymore… Pennywise is here, he’s here now… Shhhh…”

With each minute, each passing second that he holds her there, an all-encompassing, tingling warmth is starting to consume her, much like the heat of a lit fireplace to flesh frigid from the icy cold. Numb and senseless, she feels sensation returning to her now, and now more than ever she can feel how sublime he is pressed against her. The warmth is so familiar, it's such an ingrained physical feeling she can’t help but ruminate on, and when she can hear, can feel his heartbeat, the rumbling, purring sound in his chest, she knows exactly what that feeling is, having felt it so many times before that she’s practically memorized it. It’s… It’s her guardian angel. Somehow, some way, he’s here, and brought with him that distinct reassurance, that soothing comfort, telling her in his own unspoken way that he was with her, that she wasn’t alone, that she never was. The realization is a dizzying one, but she can’t possibly think to question it. Here in this moment, she is void of any objection. She feels like she’s safe; she feels like she’s home.

“Is… Is this a dream…?” She asks, breathing into the silk.

He hums, a sound inhuman but nonetheless tranquil and serene. It’s almost insectile, a burring, chirping, chirruping sound. It matches his heartbeat perfectly.

“...Do you want it to be?” He asks, his voice delicate and even. She shakes her head bashfully, head still buried in his chest.

“N-No.” She whispers. “No. I d-don’t ever want to wake up from this.” His hand snakes underneath her chin, coaxing her head up to look him in the eyes. She almost wilts from his stare but she can’t. That warmth only intensifies, and she shivers when it works its way all the way from her rosy cheeks down into the tips of her toes. Her eyes are a sleepy, hazel forest, pale under the febrile weight of two smoldering suns and she’s affixed to them, unable to falter, unable to look away. He smiles, stroking her jawline with one careful, considerate thumb.

“...Then the dreams are over, pretty girl. Pennywise is here, and he won’t ever leave you alone again. Never.”

She’s speechless and certainly mystified, hypnotized by the sheer weight of his words. The realization of who he was is one as stunning as it is miraculous, and she loses all composure, all her biting wit and fecundity, unable for the life of her to resist this in the name of all her confusion and uncertainty. All she can think about is how good it feels to finally see him, to feel him in all his gorgeous splendor and share his company, share his gaze and gentle touch. She can feel how real he is and she can hardly believe it. She thinks of all the gifts, the times he had reached out to her, protected her; all the days she spent pining for him when she searched high and low on her TV for that silly little children’s show, and just how much his enduring presence meant to her in her times of deepest dread and despondency. Some part of her had the inclination that they might be one and the same, but she hadn’t imagined in a million years that such a ridiculous notion might actually be true. She’s stupefied by it, stupefied that she had, for once in her life, been right about something. Conflating them had been an instinct she couldn’t rightly explain, but it had been an instinct all the same. A feeling, so ingrained that she couldn’t dismiss it, no matter how inane or ridiculous it seemed. And now that he’s here, it all seemed to fall into place. It all seemed to suddenly make sense. And it all felt so right, knowing that something that meant so much to her, that offered her so much comfort and consideration was also conversely the thing she had developed such strong feelings for. She didn’t know who or what he was, but that didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

He stares into her eyes for so long. It seems like an eternity, like time has slowed to a crawl around them, and she can feel the tension between them, can feel the mutual, shared desire. She wants to kiss him, to feel those full, red lips against hers but she doesn’t want to force it or be presumptuous; she wants to let whatever will happen happen naturally. Some part of her is so incredibly shy and can’t fathom making the first move, a product of having played second, third, or fourth fiddle to everyone her entire life. Angel was a girl who might’ve put on a brave and brazen front in public, but she was truly as bashful as they come. It took someone truly special to coax out that side of her, to bring out a vulnerable face she dared not show to anyone else. He gazes into her hazel eyes with such passion, and she feels her face flare up with heat as he dips forward, but instead of aiming for her lips he lands on her neck, and there’s more kisses, soft and sweet and tender. He plants his nose against her pulse with a deep, snuffling inhale and she manages a breathy gasp, melting into him and tilting her head back to grant him further access. He felt so good, so warm and protective, like a childhood blanket that felt so right and familiar flush against her tired skin. She’s moaning and whimpering, but those sounds bubble into giggles in her throat when he starts to nibble gently on her earlobe. He joins her in her laughter, and the sound of his joy in her ear is something beautiful to her. When the laughter stops he becomes somber, starting to breathe feather-light whispers in her ear as he holds her close.

“...I pined for you, my sweet. I pined, I ached, I waited so long, just for you… You’ve no earthly idea, just how many days I counted, the eons I spent alone, just how patient I was… Just waiting for my mate, my precious mate to come upon this earth, the loveliest flower ever to bloom upon this soil…”

She has no questions, can’t think to question any of it; too happy, too lost in how moonstruck she was that he was reciprocating her long-established feelings. She’d never had the luxury, had never experienced such a thing before. Her stomach flutters with joy and his words pluck at someplace wanton deep inside of her, one particular word that stands out to her flickering in her mind like a solar flare as she shares his embrace. Mate. She was his mate. The notion is so intimately romantic that she’s enamored with it, even if she doesn’t yet quite understand what he’s saying, the implications of what he means.

“But you’re here now, and what bliss it is, to finally look upon your beautiful face…” He nibbles her ear again and she makes fragile, delicate sounds. “My girl, my love, my other half… Made for me… Destined for me…”

“M-Made for you…?” She asks, her head resting against his chest again. He purrs.

“Yes, my darling… The one nice thing he ever did for me, made me something to love and call my own… Something to complete me…”

He? She’s silent. She doesn’t question it, not now. She’s sure the answer might come in time, and even if it didn’t, what did that matter? What did it… He strokes her hair lovingly, planting a kiss atop her head, and she melts. Suddenly, she’s all caught up in experiencing the moment, this moment. She wants so badly for it to last longer, maybe even forever. He appears to read her thoughts.

“I know you want this just as much as I. Your skin is melting under my touch, and yet Pennywise can hear how your heart races…”

He was right, and she knew it. What had she pined for for so long, if not this? Angel was starting to lose her grip on everything, and had been for a while. It was an inevitable symptom of her depression to get caught up in all the things that were wrong in life. Even if there was nothing particularly wrong to get upset over, her mind would still find a way to dwindle into despair. Living on her own was nice in ways, but it was not without its host of problems. Angel had thought she would enjoy the independence, but as time went on it became clear that she had bitten off more than she could chew. It had started out just fine, and she’d enjoyed her job at the Derry Public Library and even the Bassey Park fairgrounds at first, but every new change in her life would inevitably stale in time, becoming nothing more than a routine she would quickly grow tired of. There was something so depressing, too, about leading a normal, human existence. Everyone yearned for normalcy it seemed, but not Angel. Never Angel. She had always craved the unknown, though it was something she’d given up on finding well into her adolescence. She had resigned herself to leading a banal, lonely existence, interrupted only by brief bouts of spontaneity. Never in a million years did she think she would become the object of something’s attentions like this, least of all a… A destined mate to something she didn’t yet fully understand. She still reels at the word, one simple word that makes her head spin with questions. Who she was, what she was, how she had come to be if she was seemingly meant to exist just for him. All of this was just so new, so out of left field that she’s still grappling with it. And that led her to him. She wondered what he was too. He was clearly not of this earth, if the gifts and the dreams were any indication. He was something else, something otherworldly… And he had chosen her. Her of all people. That’s why she hadn’t shied away from his offerings, hadn’t been put off by any of it, not since it had all started. She was just so glad to be shown the attention that she simply couldn’t refuse it.

She adjusts herself in his hold now, scooting upward on the bed so she’s closer to his face, resting her head gently against the ruffles at his neck now. He rests one hand on her hip; the other is fingering lightly through her chestnut tresses, petting her head as he does so. She loves the sensation, the attention, letting out a long, fragile sigh of adoration as she hugs him tighter and nuzzles against the taffeta. On a whim she lifts her head up to look at him and his eyes flicker from the top of her head to her face again. His eyes are so ethereal and unearthly, like she’s staring into the sun, and his hair is perfectly coiffed wildfire that frames his pale visage so elegantly. She starts to feel lightheaded and Pennywise grins. He dips down for another sweep of supple little kisses, nibbling at her ear and sucking gently at her neck like she’s the most exquisite taste in the world, a flavor so deliciously decadent that it must be savored like a fine wine. She shudders with pleasure and gasps at his attentions.

“P-Pennywise..!” She squeaks. “P-Pen- I- Ahh~”

“Yes...” He purrs, amid kisses and more nibbles. “Yes, pet, say my name… The name of your love, your soulmate, the one who you were made for…”

Her heart pounds so hard in her chest, it feels as though it might burst out. His name is so beautiful to her, swirling around her mind in a dizzy sea of foolish desire as she swoons with lovesick reverie for him. Pennywise… Her mind plainly can’t grasp all of the questions she should be asking. Her mind is simply a blank, so purely occupied by something as simple as touch. All it takes is a sweep of those silken pleated arms and she is a slave to physical longing, submitting to him entirely when the power of their mutual tension becomes too overwhelming for her. All she can do is sing his name in sensuous yearning, in pure and absolute need. And it takes all his power, everything that Pennywise has not to give in to his own base impulses. It takes all his strength, it drives him wild; he has to restrain himself from digging beastly claws into the meat of her thigh. So vulnerable, so exposed beneath his fingers, beautiful olive skin just begging for him to draw the warmth, the beautiful, blossoming flowers of red from fresh gashes beneath her flesh. But no, cannot do such a thing. Won’t do such a thing. Can’t hurt her, not this one, not until she was one with him in permanence, belonging to and with him in every sense of the word. Not until he took her, not until she begged. And he knew she would in time.

He knew who she was, knew everything about her, including her most perverse sexual proclivities. Shy though she was, he knew she was an experimental girl in private, and that she was not immune to the thrill of rough treatment in that regard. And oh, how he longed to treat her roughly. It was the primal, savage impulses in the depth of his core, calling to base instincts he has waited so long to properly indulge. He wanted to pin her against the floor, hike her pretty little ass up in the air, take her cunt so hard and so fast, make her cry and squeal in pleasure like a stuck pig, and at the end of it all he would fill her with his seed, his eggs, would sink his fangs into the meat of her shoulder and make her take it all, laying atop her for hours until it finally stuck inside of her. He wanted to see her full with him, swollen with him, unable to properly walk as they, his ungodly spawn, grew deep within her belly. He would indulge anything and everything she ever wanted or needed during this time, as he would always take proper care of his mate, would always lavish her with the finest, filthiest pleasures he could offer.

But that was a long way off as of now. He knew he needed to take his time with all of this. He had already made great strides in seducing her, and while she would be rather easily won in the end if all of this was any indication, he knew it would go much more smoothly if he introduced things to her in good time. Pennywise was also a predator at his core, and some part of him craved the thrill of the chase, the purest joy of savoring a long-deserved conquest. He would continue as he had been doing; he would give, would endow, would spoil her with his attention, would tease her and tantalize her and titillate her with dirty words until she couldn’t take it anymore, until the tension between them became too much for her to handle. He would simply wait for the right moment to strike, wait until he could see the overwhelming desire in her eyes, and then he would take her for the first time. He would make her addicted to his touch, he would make her so sick with longing that she would spend the hours of the day craving it, pining for him, more so than she already was. He simply couldn’t wait for it all, but he knew it would all come in good time. He just needed to be patient.

So he restrains his claws from breaking through the silk of his glove, instead letting his hand linger upon her thigh, moving inward towards her panties, in between her legs. He doesn’t dip his fingers inside though. No, not yet. He had given her a taste in the bath, but he wouldn’t truly touch her down there until she begged for it. He would only fondle her above her clothes for now, would set boundaries and let her tear them down when she was ready. It would be so much more delicious that way. He wanted her to want him. He grins into her skin when she mewls so sweetly, squirming under his teasing and subconsciously moving in closer to his hand. He knew she wanted more, but he knew she wasn’t going to ask for it, not yet. She was just too shy. But he would dismantle all her walls in time, he would demolish her inhibitions and unlock all the intimate details of her sexuality. And he would delight in it every step of the way, pulling all her threads until she came apart for him. How he would rebuild her to be even better than she already is, and reconstruct her in his own ideal image.

He still worried of her learning about who he truly was. That was the one thing that concerned him. Though she was slowly but surely accepting his manipulations, his… History would no doubt be a hard pill for her to swallow. If he didn’t conduct himself carefully and introduce the concept to her in the right way, he might risk scaring her off and sullying all his hard work. And he’d be damned if he was going to let that happen. He had waited, had worked too long and too hard for his labors not to pay off. He simply wouldn’t allow it. No. He’ll nudge and subtly tamper with her until her morality eroded, would create an ethical crisis in her mind, would make her choose him in the end over everything she’s ever known, everyone and everything she’s ever loved. It would be a hard task to undertake for sure, but Pennywise was nothing if not skilled in the art of manipulation. After all, he’d been perfecting his abilities for centuries, and though she was his soulmate, she was in the end a prize to be won, and Pennywise never lost a prize. Never.

He’s still kissing her neck, peppering her with the sweetest, softest attentions he can offer her as he holds her close, thinking about all of this. Thinking about how, on a whim, he could easily bare his fangs at her throat and drain the life right out of her, and yet she trusts him so completely. It wasn’t like he would ever do that to her. Though she was only human, Angel was nonetheless nothing like the rest of them. Pennywise bore indifference at best for her kind and outright hatred at worst, and yet he simply couldn’t fathom the thought of any mortal harm coming to her. It was because she was different. She was intended to share herself with him. Her sole purpose in the world, the reason she had been brought into existence in the first place, was to love him and keep him company, to coax out a better side of him and temper his worst impulses. How laughable, he thinks with derision on that last part. He would not let himself be tamed by love. She, and she alone, was the only one worthy of seeing such kindness from the eater of worlds, but he would not bestow that same consideration on anyone else. Not her family, not her friends… Not those children. No, certainly not. Their mere existence was an obstacle to him. All they did was stand between him and what he had been pining for for centuries, and Pennywise certainly wouldn’t tolerate such a thing. In time, he was going to remove them from the picture entirely. And in time, she would no longer care about stopping him. Yes, there would get to be a time where she would care only for him, so much so that she would do the unthinkable and leave it all behind simply to stay at his side. He would see to it personally, because nothing would give him greater pleasure.

He plants another wet kiss and then licks a gentle trail up the side of her neck, stopping to nibble at her earlobe again. He whispers her name, her real name, in her ear and she shivers so deliciously with another fragile mewl. Reflexively, she hugs him tighter and he growls, returning the gesture. He’s careful not to hug her too tightly, but he hugs her just tight enough that she can hear, can feel his alien heartbeat thudding against her chest. In this moment, they truly are one.

“Yes, my girl…” He whispers lowly. “My girl… Mine, all mine…”

His voice plucks at that wanton chord again and she squirms, doing everything in her power to move in closer and grinding against his hand as she does so. They lay there together in an eternity of minutes that pass so deliciously slow, seeming to last forever as they share in each other’s silent company. Pennywise, in his impressive stature and imposing build, is not intimidating to Angel so much as he is calming and comforting and pleasant. As she clings to him in her bed she feels nothing but safe and secure, and she nestles into the comfort of his ruffles with contented ease. She feels so warm, he feels so warm, and she’s so cozy that she feels herself finally starting to drift off again. Pennywise has one hand idly petting her hair, and the other has drawn away from the inside of her legs to rest on her thigh again. Nothing too lecherous, not for now. The time would come for that, and he would savor it, but this was something to be savored too. It was simply sublime, the two of them pressed together; there were no words to really describe it. Pennywise had ached for this feeling for centuries, and how breathtaking it was, to finally look on her tired face as he touched her, as he truly held her in his arms for the first time.

He hums, a gentle rumbling in his chest singing her to sleep, a low lullaby, a pleasing purr to soothe her wary mind. With nothing but the sounds of his content and the hypnotic melody of his heartbeat, Angel would find all of her troubles simply melting away, and they would not return for the rest of the night. She would sleep soundly in his arms, and he would only make his departure just before she woke, deciding that now more than ever was the time to emphasize the importance of his presence and just how much it gave her peace of mind. She wouldn’t dream about him, not anymore, now that he had made his existence to her clear, now that he could visit her and she would readily welcome his embrace, the sheltering security of her protector, her guardian angel. He wanted to create that longing in her mind, wanted her to mourn his absence, and he knew that by the time she opened her eyes in the morning, she would feel that emptiness start to creep up inside of her again. He had fostered so much of her attention already, having built up his inevitable manifestation for so long, and now the time had finally come to feed that growing obsession of hers. She had developed feelings for things, for people in the past, sure, but this was the first time she’d ever had such feelings reciprocated. He knew it would drive her wild, knew that she would want more, and he was more than happy to give her that, more than happy to give her reason and incentive to come closer to his shepherding hand. He would delight in breaking down her psyche, having her come to justify his ghastly deeds in time, and all because he offered her something that no one else could. All because he loved her, gave her attention, provided her refuge from all that would ever bring her harm. All because he made her feel special, an elusive feeling she had never managed to truly capture her entire life.

And she was special, make no mistake about that. This wasn’t all about manipulation, though Pennywise might never admit it out loud. Yes, there was some part of this that was genuine, a genuine effort to lavish his long-awaited love in what she truly deserved, to give her what she had always been missing. His eldritch heart truly broke for her plight; he knew what she had gone through, and all because she was unknowingly waiting just for him. He’d not known, would never know such a feeling for anyone else, would not allow himself to. He was promised, had promised himself to one and one only, and though Pennywise was a selfish creature, he was not without loyalty to that which was worthy. If she took care of him, he would take care of her. And he knew she would take care of him, for that was what she was made for. It was ingrained in her nature to be loving and compassionate; it was part of what he admired in her, for he couldn’t muster the same for anyone or anything outside of her. She’d spent her entire life in preparation for him, though she’d never known it, a bleeding heart that had broken plenty of times throughout the years for the wrong people. But not for him, he would see to it, would make sure of it. After all, they had an eternity to spend together, and he would treat her with all the dignity and respect that she deserved. He was the ruler to this shitty little town, and she would join him by his side; a meriting companion, kind and just to his merciless disposition, a yin to his yang. And as he looks down at her sleeping visage, he smiles. He could simply watch her like this forever. He longed to sleep with her through the seasons, the two of them frozen in time together for twenty-seven long years until they finally woke in preparation for another cycle, again and again and again. The thought is simply captivating.

The hours pass slowly, but every second is simply delicious, and the longer that Pennywise lays there with her, the more he dreads having to leave her. He knew it was all for the best, though. He would surely have more time with her. They had, after all, all the time in the world to spend together. Though it was hard to wait and be patient now, he knew that it would all pay off eventually. Come the end of this cycle, she wouldn’t dare leave his arms, not for a second, for she would simply be too accustomed to his captivating warmth to do so. When the dark of the night becomes the early, chirping morning, he fades into the air like a specter, leaving only a mound of blankets and pillows in his place. Almost as though he’d never been there at all, but he knew she would know better, or would come to in time. Now was different from all the times of before; this would be something new, something she would want so badly to replicate. And as he looks on her from afar, he can see as she shifts in her sleep and drowsily opens her eyes, feeling around in her tired haze for something that no longer existed with her, already missing the sensation of his tender touch. He can see it in her face, the way her heart sinks; the way the tears brim in her eyes as she hugs her pillow to her chest. She already misses him, and nothing in the world could bring him greater joy.

#pennywise #daddywise #chapter twelve #dream come true #it 2017 #it chapter one #pennywise x oc #pennywise x angel #good fortune #fluff #pennywise fluff #here's where it gets good lads

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jonsastan · 5 years

Note

For a jonsa prompt, how about: jon is king of the 7k and is grateful to all the help Sansa is giving him in ruling. He's actually trying to court her but Sansa just thinks he's showing gratitude. OR if you don't mind a modern au: both of them work on a cruise ship. Sansa as a dancer and jon as bar staff ❤

Thank you for this prompt (Also I love your writing and you’re amazing)!

I really loved the idea of oblivious!Sansa but think this turned out a bit more serious than I was hoping for, so maybe I’ll write something a little more playful in the future!

Send me prompts!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jon stared at the drawings in front of him. They all depicted the same general thing, a crown, but each was vastly different.

One was large and golden with a wolf and dragon rising above all the other house sigils. Another was more of a circlet made of deep grey silver moulded into sharp spikes, almost mimicking the Iron Throne itself, but each spike encrusted with diamonds and dragonglass. The third was almost grotesque in its use of gold, silver, and other precious metals and stones in a monstrous twisted crown.

“Fuck.” Jon muttered, thumping his fist lightly on the table.

“Choosing a crown cannot be the worst of your duties.” He could hear the smile on her voice but did not turn to her.

“I don’t think I even need a crown.” He replied.

“Your Hand insists you do.” He felt the warmth of her body as she moved and stood next to him, looking over his shoulder at the designs.

“It’s Lannister’s revenge for insisting he wear the Hand of the King sigil.”

Sansa chuckled at that.

“You know what some of the commoners have been calling him?” She asked, leaning closer, her voice hushed as if she would be scolded if caught.

Jon shook his head.

“The Hand without a hand.”

Jon chuckled and turned to her. Her eyes were light and laughing, a rare sight.

“And what do they call me?” He asked. Sansa’s eyes changed and the mood shifted to something more solemn.

“Their saviour.”

“No one should be seen like that.”

“But you did save them Jon.” Her hand reached out and rested on his forearm and his skin tingled even though fabric separated them. “You saved everyone.”

“I-” He felt that lump in his throat and the blush on his cheeks and the shame in his heart. He didn’t do it Westeros, or the people, or even for honour. He did it for her. Since the moment he’d held her in his arms, her body so thin and fragile like a baby bird, her spirit bold and brave and insurmountable, he knew he would do anything to keep her safe.

That promise had sparked the Battle of Bastards, the alliance with the Dragon Queen, the defeat of the Night King, the overthrow of the Lion Queen, and the death of the Dragon Queen. And he did it all and did it gladly because he needed Sansa to be safe, not for the greater good, not for the people. Simply, for her.

And for his love they’d crowned him King.

“I still don’t like it.” Jon said, pulling his eyes from her face and back to the designs on the desk before them. “And I don’t like these.”

Sansa shuffled the papers about, pausing on a few of the designs.

“They’re not right.” She frowned and moved, sitting in his desk chair. Jon smiled at this.

Somewhere between finding each other at Castle Black and Jon’s coronation as King in the North their boundaries had been re-defined into something more casual. They did not stand on ceremony as Jon might have suspected of a younger Sansa, and he was glad this hadn’t changed since he’d been proclaimed King of the Seven Kingdoms.

“You need something more… subtle. It should not be a proclamation of greatness, but a reminder of the duty and burden that comes with ruling.” Sansa looked up from the multi-metal monstrosity Jon had been eyeing with apprehension earlier. “Did you ever hear about Robb’s crown?”

“No.” He answered simply. He tried not to dwell on the fate of the man he still thought of as his brother.

“I did. They spoke of it at court.” Sansa’s eyes seemed to be looking through him, into a past neither of them truly wished to remember. “It was a bronze circlet. It had runes of the First Men carved into it and nine iron spikes forged into the shape of long swords.”

“Sounds like the crown of the old Kings of the North.”

Sansa smiled sadly. “He probably based it on that crown. He loved stories as much I did, even thought he’d never admit it.”

A smile twitched at Jon’s lips.

“Do you think I should have a crown made like that?” He asked.

Sansa stood and moved back toward him.

“No. You are Northern, but you are also a Targaryen.” That sad smiled Jon loved and loathed was still on her lips. “And your queen will probably be southern, you would not wish to alienate her.”

Jon frowned at the mention of a queen. Jaime had mentioned it as well recently.

She grasped his hand in hers for a moment, causing heat to run up his arm before walking toward the door.

“Oh, Ser Jaime wanted to see you.” She called over her shoulder.

“You can tell him I haven’t chosen a stupid crown!” Jon called after her.

But I’ve chosen a queen.

~~~~~~~~~

Ladies like sweets, and poetry, and flowers, and pretty baubles. A much younger Sansa had told him once. Oh! And you must always compliment a lady on her name. Tell her it’s pretty.

Jon felt rather ridiculous standing nervously, watching as crate after crate of lemons from Dorne being brought into the kitchen.

“Lemon cakes.” He said to the plump head cook. The woman had not met his eyes and had stayed kneeling longer than the others when he had entered the kitchen. “For every tea that gets sent to Lady Sansa’s rooms.” The woman nodded and Jon thanked her.

Later that day Jon knocked gently on Sansa’s door.

“Enter!” Her voice sounded slightly muffled as Jon pushed the door open.

She was seated on the window seat, the pale winter sunlight coming through the glass causing her hair to shine brilliantly. She had a finger to her lips, her tongue dashing out to greedily take in the last of the lemon cake crumbs.

“Jon!” She smiled at him and gestured to the space on her seat. “We have lemon cakes!” Her smile was radiant, she looked almost like the girl who had left Winterfell dreaming of knights and maidens and lovely songs.

“I know.” He smiled gently back at her, resting a hand on the seat to keep his balance. As Sansa moved to place her empty plate on the small table next to her, her skirts covered Jon’s hand but he didn’t move. He enjoyed the warmth and softness of the sun-warmed fabric that he knew would smell like Sansa.

“I suppose this means the negotiations with Dorne have been going well.” She turned back to him.

“Aye, they have been productive.”

In truth, it had been like pulling teeth. Almost as bad as negotiating between the Wildlings and the Night’s Watch, but Jon had a powerful motivation. He needed lemons to have lemon cakes made for Sansa and Dorne had the most bountiful supply of lemons. Of course, the new Prince of Dorne may think the King of the Seven Kingdoms had inherited some Targaryen madness for having an annual shipment of lemons drafted into the treaty, but Jon didn’t mind.

“I had hoped you’d like the lemon cakes.” Jon said, unable to bring himself to look at her as he spoke. He looked out of Sansa’s window over the sea. She’d had her pick of rooms when she had offered to remain in the Red Keep to help Jon settle into his reign.

“You had them made for me?” Her voice was full of genuine shock and awe. Jon found his eyes were drawn back to her, to see her face and every expression that might cross it. “Oh Jon.” She reached out and took his hand in her own, squeezing it gently. “You didn’t have to do that for me. I know you appreciate my help.”

Jon’s brows knitted together for a moment.

“I do appreciate you, Sansa.” He said slowly. “But-”

“I’m so glad -” Sansa said, pulling her hand from his and turning back toward the sheaf of papers she had been reading. “that the negotiations were successful. If all continues like this, I may be able to return to Winterfell sooner than expected.”

Jon’s heart stopped for a moment.

“I still need you here.”

Sansa looked at him with that lovely sad smiled.

“Not for much longer, I’m sure.”

~~~~~~~~~

Jon fiddled with the folded piece of parchment, trying to get it to stand straight next to the bouquet of flowers. He looked at the arrangement. The flowers were from the Red Keep’s gardens and he’d picked them himself this morning after training with Brienne. She had been helpful with the note.

“Ser Brienne?” Jon began hesitantly, suddenly very aware of the weapon and skill this woman possessed. “How does one… compliment a lady correctly?”

The knight, for the first time Jon could recall, dropped her guard.

“I’m sorry, your grace,” Her eyes darted between himself and Podrick as if they were in on some joke she was not. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

Jon felt himself blush and hoped the others would just see it as exertion from their training.

“If a man, a gentleman,” He glanced at Podrick who was moving closer. “Wanted to leave a note with some flowers for a lady, what would he write?”

“I cannot honestly say.” Brienne replied.

“But, did Ser Jaime, not ah-” Jon glanced at Podrick for help as to how to finish his sentence, as the only phrase he could think of was ‘woo you’ and he really did not want to say that to Brienne.

“Ser Jaime and I have an unconventional relationship to say the least.” Brienne stated, putting Jon out of misery. “I would not base any kind of courtship on our history.” Brienne positioned herself into a fighting stance. “I’m sorry not to be of more help, your grace.”

Jon merely nodded and engaged in another sparring match. Before he left for collect the flowers for Sansa, Brienne came and stood next to him.

“Be genuine, my lord. Sincerity is always appreciated.” Jon glanced at the taller woman and saw a deep sadness from long ago in her eyes.

“Thank you, ser.”

Jon spun on the spot when he heard the creak of the door open.

“Oh!” Sansa had jumped slightly when she looked up from her papers at the figure in her room. “Jon.” She smiled and moved toward him. “You frightened me half to death.”

“Sorry.” He smiled gently at her. “I had just meant to leave these for you.” He moved so Sansa could see the flowers.

“They’re lovely!” She exclaimed sweeping toward them. She dropped her pile of papers on the table and brought the bouquet to her nose. “They’re beautiful.” She lifted her eyes to his.

“There’s a note.” Jon gestured, and Sansa’s quick fingers grabbed it. “I’ll leave you to read it.” He moved toward the door, but hears Sansa’s small intake of breath.

Sansa,

I’ll protect you, I promise.

Yours, always,

Jon.

As he’d said to Sam once ‘I’m not a bleeding poet’ but he’s proud of his simple, direct words. Jon’s hand is on the door handle when Sansa’s arms wrap around his waist as she buries her face between his shoulder blades.

“Jon.” Her voice is muffled, Jon brings his hands up to rest on hers, enjoying the warmth of her skin. “I know you’ll keep me safe.”

For a moment, Jon hopefully wonders if she realises, if she’s noticed, if she has finally become aware of his need of her, his feelings for her, his love for her.

“I know you have a deep gratitude for me.”

Jon’s hope dies.

~~~~~~~~~

“Big gestures!” Jaime had exclaimed to him. “Women love big gestures!” Jon had frowned trying to picture shy, private, reserved Brienne enjoying a large dramatic romantic gesture.

Now, staring down at his latest attempt to admit his feelings to Sansa, he felt extremely nervous at taking Jaime’s advice.

He heard a knock at his door and took a deep breath before speaking.

“Enter.”

Sansa slipped through the door, her face transforming into the gentle smile she often wore in his presence. The smile that made his heart skip a beat and his soul hope.

“I’ve been summoned,” She teased. “Your grace?”

Jon chuckled and gestured for her to come nearer.

“My Hand is pleased with me. I have had a crown made.”

“Oh, Ser Jaime will be most gratified.” Sansa stood next to him, and he was suddenly aware of her every minute movement.

On a piece of black cloth a circlet sat. It was made of silver, Weirwood leaves carved into the metal, floating around the entire crown. There are 7 black iron spikes arising from the silver, each with a small diamond inlaid near where the iron met the silver.

“Almost like Robb’s.” Sansa murmured, her fingers reaching out to press into the spikes. “But still not entirely Northern. And silver and black, Stark and Targaryen colours.”

Jon watched as Sansa took in the beautiful metal work. He watched as her face slowly transformed from one of contentment into confusion. He watched as her brows knitted together and her lower lip got caught between her teeth.

“Jon.” She turned to him. “I- You- Have you tried it on?”

Jon remained silent, prompting Sansa to explain further.

“It just, it looks a little small.”

“No Sansa, I haven’t tried this one on.”

“This one?” Her brows unknitted. “For your queen?” She asked.

Jon nodded. Sansa smiled that lovely sad smile and turned back to the crown.

“It’s for you.”

Sansa froze, her finger pressing into the point of a spike.

“If you’ll have it?” Jon reached out and took her unoccupied hand, his calloused thumb running over her smooth, warm skin. “If you’ll have me?” Sansa spun to face him, her eyes shining, her mouth parted ever so slightly, the hand that was resting on the crown, coming to rest on his chest, over his heart.

“You never said anything.”

Jon laughed as he reached up and covered Sansa’s hand with his own.

“I followed your advice to the letter!” He argued. He released the other hand and brought his up to cup her cheek. Sansa’s hand joined her other on his chest.

“What advice?”

“You told me that when courting, an honourable man would give his lady sweets-”

“The lemons cakes.” Sansa muttered, eyes widening slowly.

“And poetry, and flowers.”

“Poetry?” Sansa asked, a sly little grin on her lips.

“I tried, but it seems there’s a reason not every man is a bard.”

Sansa chuckled as Jon moved his hand from hers to cup her other cheek. “And pretty baubles.”

“This is hardly a bauble.” Sansa said in a soft voice. Jon noticed her eyes flickered from his own eyes to his lips and wondered if he imagined it, or if he was imagining that she was leaning in toward him. “It’s -”

“It’s a promise and a hope and a ques-”

“Yes.” Sansa breathes and she moved toward him, pressing her lips to his. Jon can’t help but smile into the kiss, as his hands drop from her face to her waist, pulling her closer to him. As the kiss ends Sansa speaks.

“I believe I also told you that when courting you should compliment a lady on her name.”

Jon let out a breathy laugh.

“I believe ‘Queen Sansa’ sounds pretty.”

#jonsa #actually jonsa #mine #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fanfiction

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sheliesshattered · 4 years

Text

This Isn’t A Ghost Story - Chapter 2

Whouffaldi non-canon AU. 8 chapters, will be about 32,000 words when complete. Rated Mature for heavier themes in later chapters, please contact me privately if you’re worried about triggering topics. Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor. Mystery, pining and angst with a happy ending. Available on AO3 under the same username and title. Updates every Friday.

This Isn’t A Ghost Story

Chapter 2: The Box

When Clara’s stomach informed her that it had to be well past lunchtime, she glanced up from a shoebox full of black and white photos of her Gran’s travels and spotted the ghost standing in the far corner of the attic, staring at a dusty and crumbling box she didn’t recognise, a calculating expression wrinkling his brow.

“I forgot this was here,” he murmured so quietly she almost didn’t catch it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Oh, just letters and photos and journals and such,” he said louder, not shifting his gaze. “The same as the rest.”

“I’m not sure I like the way you’re looking at it,” she told him playfully, shuffling through the photos in her hands. “What are you thinking?”

He hesitated. “I’m wondering if I can get it downstairs now,” he said slowly, “or if I’ll have to wait until after sunset to be able to move it.”

“Why do you want to take it downstairs?” she asked absently.

“That’s where the fireplace is. Probably ought to keep it contained. Don’t want to burn down the whole house.”

That caught her attention, and Clara put down the photos she’d been concentrating on, giving him her entire focus. “What? Why would you want to burn it?”

“It’s for the best,” he said obliquely.

“What is in that box?” she demanded, standing and crossing the cramped space towards him to get a better look at it.

“Clara,” he admonished, trying ineffectually to block her view of the box.

“That’s my family history you’re contemplating burning there, mister,” she told him. “I think I should at least get to see it first.”

“I would really rather you didn’t—”

She felt his cold touch brush against the back of her hand as she reached into the box, but it wasn’t nearly enough to deter her.

“These photos are ancient,” she said, noting the sepia colours of the few she’d managed to snag. “Who is the woman in these pictures? It’s not Gran.”

“Clara, would you please just—”

“You don’t want me to see these,” she said, putting together the pieces. “Why?”

“There are parts of the history of this house that you’re better off not knowing,” he said, more ominous than the rattling of cupboards that had scared away so many potential buyers.

“No, hang on a second,” she said, looking closer at the photos in the dim light. “Who is this? She looks exactly like—”

He winced. “Please don’t.”

“Exactly like me.”

“Clara, please.”

“What is going on with you?” she demanded, turning her gaze to him. “In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never behaved like this.”

His jaw worked soundlessly for a moment before he finally said, “That’s your great-grandmother. The one you’re named for.”

She peered at the photos, pacing closer to the bare lightbulb hanging from the slanting ceiling to try to see them better. “Okay, but that is actually creepy. I look just like her. Why has no one ever mentioned that?”

“No one alive now remembers what she looked like. She died when your grandmother was a baby, you know that.”

“Why would you not want me to see these?” she asked, a chill working its way down her spine.

“Clara—”

“You’re scaring me,” she told him. “Really, properly scaring me, for the first time in my life. Why would you want to burn this box, rather than let me see these photos?”

“Sometimes the past is better left buried.”

“But this is ancient history! Nearly a century ago! What harm could it possibly—” she cut off as he abruptly disappeared, leaving her with the dust and her lingering questions and the echoes of familial pain.

After their confrontation in the attic, Clara didn’t want to leave the strange old box alone with her ghost, so she carefully carried it downstairs with her, setting it on the kitchen table as she scrounged up a make-shift lunch out of what little food there was on hand. The house had gone eerily silent after he’d disappeared, and she found herself humming under her breath as she ate and cleared up, trying to calm her jagged nerves.

“Could you not?” his voice came from behind her, and she jumped, spinning to face him. He was hazy and translucent in the early afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows near the table, but she could tell his eyes were fixed on the box and not on her.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Would ghostly footsteps really have been any better?” he asked sourly, cutting his gaze to her briefly.

“When I know they’re from you, yes! And since when has my humming bothered you?”

“It’s not the humming so much as your choice of song.”

Clara blinked at him, trying to remember the tune. “I don’t even know what it was.”

“That’s exactly my point.” She watched him try to grasp one corner of the box, his hand passing through it, as insubstantial as cobwebs. He made a face and dropped his arm, but didn’t move away from the box.

“You still want to burn it,” she said, not quite a question.

“I’m reconsidering my stance on burning down the entire house, if that’s what it takes. Would you still have to pay the tax bill if the house were no longer here? What’s the insurance situation like?”

“I cannot believe I have to say this, but please don’t burn down the house. I will figure out how to pay the taxes, one way or another. And whatever is in that box can’t possibly be that bad.”

He looked up at her and held her gaze across the width of the kitchen. “Can’t it?”

“What is it that you’re so afraid of me knowing?” Clara asked, and he turned away, staring down into the box again. “So I look like my great-grandmother, what of it? I’m named for her, too. It’s just family resemblance, it’s hardly surprising.”

She honestly wasn’t sure which of them she was trying to convince. She’d hoped that in the bright daylight and modern setting of the kitchen, a reexamination of the photos would prove that she only somewhat resembled the long-dead woman, but her ghost’s odd behaviour was throwing that fragile hope into serious doubt.

“It’s more than that, and you know it,” he murmured, still faced away from her. “Deep down, you know it. And now it’s only a matter of time until you realise...”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her heart thudded against her ribs. “Please tell me what’s going on,” she breathed.

He reached into the box, the shadow cast by its raised edge allowing him enough substance to shuffle through the contents within. “I never spoke to Margot — your grandmother,” he said, voice distant and detached. “Or anyone else after she was born, not until you were old enough to talk to me. But I’ve always been here. I moved things, when no one would notice. Hid things. I hid this box so long ago, I’d forgotten it was there. But I’m certain Margot never found it.”

“Why did you hide it from her? If it’s just old photos, then why—”

“I made a promise, Clara. I had a duty of care. Almost eighty-seven years keeping that promise, only for this box to resurface now.”

Clara frowned, confused. “But Gran wouldn’t have turned eighty-seven until next summer.”

“I didn’t make the promise to Margot. I made it to the only person I’ve spoken to since my death. The only one who could ever see me.”

“Besides me, you mean.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder, his expression like an open wound. “Clara.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked again, trying to shake the unnerving feeling that look elicited. “There’s some deep, dark, family secret, I’m getting that much. But why does it have to remain a secret? Whatever it is, everyone connected with it is gone now. There’s only you and me left.”

He turned back to the box, gaze fixed on something inside that she couldn’t see. “I would like to think that I could tell you the basics of it and you’d leave it be. The trouble is, I know you too well for that. I know you won’t stop digging until you’ve uncovered all the gory details. If I can spare you any part of that pain...”

“I think I’d rather have the truth,” she told him bluntly.

“I know,” he said, sounding resigned. Carefully, as though it took all of his focus to accomplish, he lifted a single photograph from the box. When his hand cleared the edge of the box, the sunlight rendered it insubstantial again, and the photo drifted down to the tabletop, unsupported. “You always did demand absolute honesty from me, Clara, my Clara.” He met her eyes once more, and then was gone.

Alone again in the silence of the kitchen, Clara hesitated before crossing to the table to pick up the picture he’d taken from the box, curiosity eventually winning out over her lingering fear.

Like the photos she’d seen earlier, it was composed of monotones of brown, surrounded by a thick off-white border, but it was the image captured there that made the breath catch in her throat. A man and a woman stood side by side, gazing at each other rather than out at the camera, both smiling broadly. He was dressed in a dark suit and crisp white shirt, and she wore a pale satin gown with a dropped waist and a boxy cut. She held a bouquet of flowers in her hands, and there were more flowers in her short dark hair, formed into a circlet that held a long lace veil in place.

Any hope that Clara might have clung to that she bore only a passing resemblance to her namesake was shattered, the longer she looked at the photo. The likeness was uncanny, and downright eerie given the fuss made over this box. So far as she could tell, they were identical in every way, from their height and their facial features to the dimple that only appeared when she smiled. It easily could have been her in that photo. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn that it was.

And if there was any other face that she knew as well as her own, it was that of her ghost. His ageless, expressive face had been seared into her consciousness since childhood, doodled in the margins of homework assignments in adolescence, and featured in her dreams for as long as she could remember. There was absolutely no question in her mind, not at first glance nor after careful examination, that the man stood beside her great-grandmother was one and the same. She would know him anywhere. His hair was perhaps a touch longer now, more untamed, but he didn’t look like he had aged a day.

Turning the photo over, she found a short inscription on the back. Clara and John, 12 May 1923 was written in large block letters, but John had been neatly crossed out, and above it small, looping handwriting had added the Doctor in its place.

She’d never known her ghost’s name, and when she had prodded him for personal information as a child, he had given her only a few sparse details. It had never particularly bothered her — she knew him, so as a child she had simply accepted that he was her ghost, and she was his Clara, and that was all that mattered. Besides, it wasn’t as though she could speak to anyone else about him, certainly not after the way her Mum and Gran had reacted.

But she wondered at it now, at the life he had led, long before she was born. She wondered about the man in the photograph, John or the Doctor or whatever he preferred to be called, this man that was so clearly her ghost. Had he had a good life? And what had made him want to linger in this house after it had ended?

She turned the photo back over, her eyes catching on his familiar face again. He looked so very happy in that frozen moment, gazing with absolute adoration at the woman who could have been her. Her great-grandmother wore a matching expression, giddy with happiness and clearly very much in love. Clara didn’t think she had ever looked at anyone that way. In her nearly twenty-eight years of life, she had never once felt for anyone what the two people in that photo so obviously felt for each other. Not anyone, except—

That thought cut short at the sound of music drifting down from upstairs, ethereal and haunting, even discounting the fact that she knew it was played by a man dead almost a century. Still cradling the photograph in both hands, Clara followed the music up the stairs, and found him in the dim back bedroom, perched on an old blanket chest with an acoustic guitar across his lap. He glanced up at her when she paused in the doorway, but didn’t stop playing. She didn’t want him to stop.

Clara watched his long fingers move effortlessly across the frets, felt the way the familiar melody reverberated out from the guitar, full of love and longing, and thought again about the expression he’d worn on that long ago day, captured in the photograph in her hands. As a teenager she had entertained fantasies that he might one day look at her like that, but as she’d gotten older she had come to accept the futility of it. He was a ghost, dead decades before she was born, and no matter how special he was to her, or she to him, there would never be any way to alter those facts.

But now she found herself confronted with something almost infinitely worse: here was her ghost directing that look at her great-grandmother. The familial implications were obvious, and distressing in a way she couldn’t even quite articulate to herself. It wasn’t just the likelihood that she was descended from this man who had featured so prominently in her life, or that he had never bothered to reveal that bit of information to her. It wasn’t even jealousy, exactly, but rather a sort of longing for what could have been. It could have been her in that photo. It should have been her.

She leaned in the doorway and listened to him play, and tried to imagine a world in which he wasn’t dead, and she was free to love him.

“That’s the song I was humming earlier,” she said softly, once the last note had faded away. “What’s it called?”

He was silent a long moment. “It’s called Clara,” he murmured, carefully setting aside the guitar and not meeting her gaze. “I wrote it, a very long time ago, for your great-grandmother. I used to hum it for you sometimes, when you were a baby. I don’t know if you were always that fussy, or if you’ve just never slept well in this house, but it seemed to... help, I suppose.”

“I didn’t know you appeared to me when I was a baby,” she said. “But I guess it makes sense.” She glanced down at the photograph in her hands, thought again on the familial relationship that could be inferred from it. “I’m not sure I have a first memory of you,” she told him honestly. “I remember the first time I spoke to you, the first time you responded, but even before that, you were always just there, every time I visited Gran.”

If she didn’t know his face so well, she would have missed the sad smile that briefly curled one corner of his mouth. “Ellie brought you here when you were a week old. Your grandfather’s health was failing, and he hadn’t been able to visit her in hospital. She let him hold you, but rather than look at him, you looked directly at me. Focused on me like I’ve never seen out of a newborn. It’d been fifty-eight years since anyone had seen me, and then there you were, staring right at me. My Clara.”

Her heart flipped over in her chest, and she looked down the photo again and willed herself to speak. “I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

“And there you go again, demanding utmost honesty from me,” he said with fond ruefulness.

She hesitated, chickening out and deciding to take a slightly different tack. She held up the photo so he could see it. “Is this you?”

He glanced from the photo up to her face, like he was surprised at the question. “Yes.”

“Are you my great-grandfather?” she blurted out before she could lose her nerve again.

He winced. “That’s a complicated question.”

“It’s really not,” she pressed, gripped with the need to know, no matter how much it might hurt. “Either you are or you’re not.”

“Clara—”

“This is a photo of you and my great-grandmother, on what certainly looks like your wedding day,” she said, pushing the words out in a rush, as though that would make it easier. “You said you had a ‘duty of care’ for my Gran, a promise strong enough to keep you here for the last eighty-seven years. So are you or are you not my great-grandfather?”

He sputtered a moment, clearly not wanting to answer the question. “Legally, technically, yes,” he finally said. “If you go digging into the paperwork — wills and birth certificates, that sort of thing — you’ll find my name there. But in reality? Biologically? No. Margot wasn’t mine. There was no way she could have been mine, and your great-grandmother knew it.”

A strange sort of relief washed through her, quickly followed by confusion. “Wait, that’s the dark and terrible family secret?” she asked in disbelief. “That you’re not Gran’s father?”

He hesitated. “That’s part of it, yes,” he hedged. “And if anyone had ever found out, it would have cost her this house and the rest of her inheritance, every bit of anything that provided her with stability and security, as a girl orphaned at three months old.”

“That’s why you were trying to keep it hidden from her,” Clara realised.

He nodded. “Margot lived her entire life never knowing the truth of her parentage, which is exactly what her mother wanted. That was part of the promise I made, to spare Margot from as much of that pain as I could.”

“Why have you never told me any of this before?”

“It didn’t seem right to speak of it while Margot was alive,” he shrugged. “But you’re right, there’s only the two of us left, now. And I suppose there are some things you are entitled to know, as much as I might wish for nothing to change.”

Clara watched him for a long moment, studying his face. “There’s more you’re not telling me,” she said, trying to keep her tone from turning accusatory. “What else is in that box?”

He held his hand out for the photo, taking it from her carefully when she offered it to him. “This was a good day,” he said, staring down at the man he had been, and the woman who could have been her. “We were very, very happy. But there were less happy days, memories I would protect you from, if I can. If you’ll let me.”

“You can’t protect me from everything,” she told him, gently but firmly. “I’m not part of your duty of care. I never asked you for that.”

He looked up from the photo to find her gaze again. “My Clara. You shouldn’t have to ask.”

Chapter 3: The Journal

#Whouffaldi #Twelve/Clara #Clara Oswald/Twelfth Doctor #Twelfth Doctor #Clara Oswald #Clara and the Doctor #Doctor Who #Doctor Who fanfic #This Isn't A Ghost Story #This Isn't A Ghost Story chapters #my writing #available on AO3 under the same title and username #please comment and reblog!

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