#ill only get the smallest of crumbs if any at all

[captain-yousoro]

Nah the yuri brainrot is insane. I am out here genuinely starting to ship Ruby/Kana and Kana/Akane

#oshi no ko #dont get me wrong i love aqua that is my fucked up son my baby boy #but i dont like seeing him with the girls #like theyre not for you go away #cute girls are for cute girls only #this is why i cant watch things that arent cgdct #ill only get the smallest of crumbs if any at all #even from the fandom #people who create yuri oshi no ko content where r you i need it

[chimchimsauce]

Ash and Cinder

Ever since YN’s father died, she’s been trapped in her childhood home by her scheming step mother and evil step sisters. When it’s announced that the crown prince is hosting a ball to find his future wife, all YN wishes is to see her childhood friend once again. But maybe he’s been closer than she previously thought . . .

The first thing YN feels when she wakes up in the morning is the persistent pain in her ribs. It makes her breath catch as she pushes herself upward, her hand bracing herself against the cold floor of her chambers. Chamber is too generous of a word to describe the cramped storage space in the basement where she resides. 

Once upon a time, YN slept peacefully every night in one of the luxurious bedrooms in the house above her. She was waited on affectionately by the staff and doted on by both of her parents. However, once her mother died, things went downhill fast. YN’s father, bless his soul, was never good at being alone. YN’s mother’s grave was still fresh when her father came back from one of his business trips with three women in tow - a new stepmother and two stepsisters. At first, YN was a little bitter that her father would betray her mother and so soon. They had always seemed to be so in love with each other that the sight of YN’s father embracing another woman felt so alien and wrong.

But YN swallowed any protests she had for her father’s sake. When YN’s mother died, her father was little more than a ghost who floated through the once lively hallways. YN would do anything for that smile of his to stay.

Happiness never lasts for long, though. It had scarcely been two years after his remarriage that YN’s father joined her late mother. His death had been odd and sudden. He was healthy as a horse a few months before his passing, but he had mysterious illnesses that tore him down until he was barely hanging onto life. In his last moments, he had requested to be left alone with YN.

The memory of his fragile hands holding hers, much too cold to be normal continued to haunt her. He had barely managed to request to be buried by his first wife before death took ahold of him. For a long while, YN stood by his bedside, refusing to believe that both of her parents had left her and so close together.

And while YN was overcome with grief and sadness, her stepfamily did not shed a single tear. All they were concerned with was the affairs of her father’s funds. After YN’s mother’s death, YN’s father, a once prominent merchant, fell into a working slump. He hardly went to sea anymore and thus began to drain their savings until practically nothing was left. 

Given no other choice, YN’s evil stepmother fired all of the staff and put every duty onto YN’s shoulders, stripping her of every aspect of her previous life. Her old finery was distributed amongst her snickering stepsisters and she was kicked into squalor. All she had to wear was threadbare rags she crudely sewed together herself. All she was afforded to eat was the crumbs of meals she herself had to slave other.

YN, saddened by her memories, forces herself to stand on shaky feet, placing a hand on her aching ribs. Yesterday, one of her stepsisters Anastasia kicked her when she was scrubbing the floors resulting in her going tumbling down an entire flight of marble. The pain was so intense that she laid there in agony for several moments before forcing herself to get up, knowing that things would only get worse for her if she stayed where she was.

More than anything, YN wished she could run away. Unfortunately, with no money or connections, she would last scarcely a week on the streets before she either starved or was forced to seek employment at a whorehouse. Neither option felt better than her current situation, so YN grits her teeth and pushes forward.

The sun is still down when she goes outside to draw the water for her sister’s baths. The moon casts the smallest amount of light, just enough for her to see her reflection in the well. Her face is gaunt from far too few meals and her once healthy hair has thinned and is cropped unbearably short from when her stepmother attacked her in a fit of rage. Soot and cinder is caked into every wrinkle in her skin, leaving her in a constant state of filth. 

YN slaps the water, her image melting away in a dozen waves. 

"What have I done to deserve this?" She asks, a frustrated tear falling down her face, "Why have I been treated so terribly?"

As expected, no one answers her, no one offers her any comfort. She is doomed to live the rest of her life this way.

YN takes a deep breath before turning on her heel and lugging the massive pail of water into the house.

The rest of the day passes as normally - her so-called family barking orders at her and her fingers feeling like they're going to fall off. It's only at dinner time that the usual schedule turns on its head.

Her stepsisters and stepmother are eating dinner in the large dining room and YN is just outside the door, mopping the floors.

"Did you hear?" Her stepsister Driscella, says excitedly. "The Prince is hosting a ball!"

"A ball?" Anastasia says, dropping her spoon into the bowl of soup YN made earlier, "What for?"

"To find his wife," Driscella says, "It is time for him to marry."

"To marry? Who is invited?" Anastasia asks.

"Any eligible maiden from a noble family," Driscella says, "Our invitation arrived in the mail earlier."

"We must prepare you at once," her stepmother says, rising from the table so quickly she knocks over her chair, "YN!"

YN startles at her name but rushes to come.

"Yes, stepmother?"

"Prepare the carriage. We're going into town!"

"Yes, ma'am," YN says, rushing to do as told. 

The carriage is done by the time the family is done eating. YN is not allowed to ride inside with them, instead sitting at the head and driving into town. The ride is bumpy and uncomfortable, but thankfully their house is located close to market.

As her stepfamily flutters from store to store, spending money they don't really have, YN trails behind, carrying packages and running them back to the carriage. She's absolutely starving and the hot sun overhead does nothing to assist her. There are several shops selling all kinds of food and drink, but YN's stepmother didn't give her a single coin to spend for herself. 

YN is gazing at an apple longingly when a body bumps into her, tossing her to the ground. The shock of impact rattles her bones and YN groans, her vision swimming. 

"I'm so sorry," a man's voice says, "Let me help you up."

A gloved hand comes into view and YN takes it, being pulled to her feet.

"It's alright," YN says, not having the energy to deal with this at the moment.

She turns to walk away when a hand is placed on her shoulder.

"Let me make it up to you," the man says, his voice unusually desperate, "Allow me to buy you a meal."

At the mention of food, YN's gaze shoots up, looking at the man for the first time. He's incredibly handsome and well groomed, skin clear and hair styled perfectly. It's clear that he's some sort of noble, the type of person who would never look YN's way. It makes her instantly suspicious of his offer.

"No thanks," YN says.

Even though she wants a meal more than anything, she can't trust him.

"Please," he says, "You look like you're starving."

She is starving. She hasn't had an actual full belly in over a year now. Every day she wakes up she's surprised that she hasn't joined her parents in her sleep. 

Just as she's about to reject again, YN's stomach growls loudly, embarrassing her.

"Alright," YN says, following after him.

The promise of food overwhelms her concerns. It's dangerous, yes, but when will such an opportunity happen again?

The man leads her into a small pub that is bustling due to the busy day at the market. The crowd of people makes YN feel better. Hopefully nothing bad will happen when they’re surrounded. As soon as the man walks in, though, he raises his hand and people clear out like rats, stopping in the middle of their meals and drinks to scatter. That does nothing to ease YN’s anxiety.

“What was that all about?” she asks him, taking a cautious step backward.

“The pub owner owes me a favor is all,” he says easily, guiding YN by the shoulders to an empty booth.

A worker comes to clean it up immediately, their fingers trembling. YN knows that feeling too well. All of their movements are quick and quiet so as not to be scolded.

“On second thought,” YN says, moving to get away from this strange man, “My family must be looking for me. I have to assist my sisters with their packages.”

He does not let her escape him, pulling her back down with a firm but gentle grasp.

“Sisters?” he asks curiously, waving his hand once more.

The worker leaves immediately and returns with drinks.

“We’ll have one of everything,” the man says, the worker bowing and disappearing once more.

YN takes the goblet in her hands and holds it tight, as if to ground herself.

“Yes,” she says cautiously, “My sisters.”

The man takes a long sip of his ale, not breaking eye contact for a moment. It feels as if he’s keeping her prisoner with his gaze alone.

“Interesting,” he says simply. 

“They’re getting ready for the prince’s ball,” YN says, desperate to fill this heavy silence, “They’re very excited to go.”

“And will you?” the man asks her, “Go to the ball.”

YN laughs before she can stop herself, quickly guiding her drink to her lips to distract from the sound.

“What’s so funny about attending the ball?” he asks her.

YN places her cup on the table, looking into the contents.

“Servants don’t go to balls,” YN says, “especially not ones where the crown prince hopes to find his bride.”

Perhaps if YN’s parents had not died, she would be one of the many noble women mulling about like excited bees, buying ribbons and buttons and sweet smells to rub behind their ears. When she was younger, she had even met the royal family a few times due to the wealth her father brought into the country. From her fuzzy memories, YN recalls the crown prince behind rather quiet and stoic, even as a child. But there were a few times when the two of them would play together. YN had always been imaginative, so she would insist that the elder prince play games with her. Perhaps it was a bit childish, prancing around the lush royal gardens and slaying imaginary beats, but it was fun. YN might even go so far as to say that they were friends back then.

But then the prince was sent abroad to study and YN never saw him again. It’s been forever since she has thought about him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the man asks her.

“I was just thinking about a memory from my childhood,” she says.

The food comes out soon after. Aromas more delicious than she’s smelled in a very long time surround her and she looks at the man sitting across her with wide eyes, silently asking if it was really okay for her to eat this. 

He smiles at her for the first time since she’s met him and a lot of her apprehension melts away. The man has a surprisingly kind smile, one incapable of holding malice. 

YN eats until she’s full and then some, wanting to savor every single bite. She may never get the chance to be this full again.

When the clock on the pub’s wall chimes, YN startles, looking outside to see that the sun has not set. She’s been with this man for much longer than she intended. No doubt her stepfamily is furious.

“Thank you so much for the meal,” YN tells the man, “I really appreciate it!”

“Where are you going?” the man asks her, a little breathless. 

“I must go,” she says, running out of the pub.

As she hurries to find her family’s carriage, YN realizes that she never got the man’s name. Ah well. It’s not like she’ll ever see him again.

After searching, it becomes clear that YN’s stepfamily left without her, providing her no means to get home. And while the trip to the market is not too long on a horse or in a carriage, it takes over an hour on foot. The moon hangs heavy overhead and the trees rustle in the leaves. Everything is serene for the moment and YN does her best to savor it, knowing that she’ll most likely get beaten when she arrives home. For a moment YN considers just escaping into the woods while her stomach is still full and she might have a chance at survival, but winter is just around the corner and she’ll freeze in her threadbare clothing. 

So with a heavy sigh, YN returns to the place she once called home. 

The young woman was right. Her stepmother is furious when she arrives and beats her thoroughly, YN crumpled into so much pain that the world spins and she pukes up her precious lunch all over the floor. In the background she can hear her stepsisters laughing at her misery and her stepmother screeching about the mess she made, but the pain and exhaustion is too strong.

YN surrenders to sleep, the faint memory of a garden in her mind. 

When she wakes, it’s to her stepsister’s foot in her side. YN had been left in the house’s entrance in a pool of her own vomit.

“Get up, you useless pig. We have much to do! The ball is in three days time!”

And just like that, YN’s life returns to normal. She is up cleaning and sewing and cooking and brushing hair from dawn until dusk, scarcely getting enough sleep and water to get by. When the day of the ball finally arrives, YN is incredibly relieved to see her stepsisters and stepmother leave in a carriage they rented for the occasion, one much fancier than the one they actually own. They’ll be gone most likely until the next day’s afternoon, so YN can manage to finally get some much needed rest. She might even be able to sneak and lie down in one of the many guest rooms if she’s careful to be gone before they return.

YN makes her way outside to the well, drawing water for herself to drink.

“May I have some as well?” an elderly voice says.

YN turns, alarmed. No one should be here, especially not at the back of the house. It’s impossible to get here without going through the manor.

“Who are you?” YN asks cautiously.

“Just an old beggar,” the woman says, “One who is incredibly quenched.”

YN looks the old woman up and down. She looks incredibly frail. YN could most likely beat her in a fight even in her weakened state if it came down to that.

“Okay,” YN says, drawing water for the woman as well.

For a few moments the two sit side by side in silence, sipping their water underneath the moonlight.

“It’s a shame to see you like this, child,” the crone says, “You deserve so much more than this.”

YN looks at the old woman quizzically. She’s speaking as if she knows her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” YN says.

This interaction grows odder by the second.

“I can help you,” the woman says, “I can grant a wish, any wish you desire.”

YN laughs.

“Oh I wish that were true,” she says.

“And if it is? Humor me, young one.”

“Hm,” YN says, deciding that there’s no harm in playing along.

“If I could wish for anything, I’d wish I could go to the ball. It’s probably hard to believe, but I used to know the prince. I’m not interested in catching his eye or anything, I’d just like to see how he turned out from a distance and maybe snatch as much food as possible.”

The old woman looks at her before standing, handing her back the cup she had been drinking from.

“Refill this cup when the moon’s reflection is perfectly over the well and take a sip. Then your wish will come true.”

Before YN can question the woman’s nonsense, the old lady swishes her cape around her, turning into a black cat and running off.

YN can barely believe her eyes. She blinks, rubbing her face. If she had doubts before, they’re gone now. 

It just takes a few moments before the time the woman told her to look out for arrives. YN does as told, filling the woman’s cup with water and drinking it all down, her eyes sliding shut.

When they open again, YN is convinced that nothing happened. She’s still in a garden after all. But her dress feels much heavier than before and something cold is wrapped around her feet. As she looks around, YN notices that she’s in the garden from her childhood, the royal garden.

YN gasps, not believing that it’s true. This must be some wild dream, but if it is, she doesn’t want to wake up.

YN migrates to a nearby stream, peering into her reflection. She doesn’t look a thing like her old self, all clean and wearing a brilliant white dress that seems to sparkle, even in the dim lighting. YN makes her way through the garden, remembering every step as if she was here only yesterday. She soon finds herself in the center of it all at the rope swing where she and the prince would hide from his guards.

YN sits on the swing, her eyes closed as she remembers. She certainly hopes the prince finds his true love tonight.

“There you are,” a familiar voice says.

YN opens her eyes, scrambling to stand from her spot.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“YN,” the man says, stepping into the light.

“It’s you,” YN says.

The mysterious man from the other day.

“What are you doing here?”

“You really don’t remember me, YN?” he asks, “Even in our secret place.”

YN freezes. No way.

“Yoongi?” YN asks before remembering her place, “I mean, Prince Min?”

“I much prefer Yoongi from you,” he says, making his way next to her and sitting on the ground.

“Here, your majesty, take the swing,” YN says, moving to get out of the way.

“Stay,” he commands, looking at her fondly.

It’s a little off-putting how intensely he’s looking at her.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for my whole life,” he says.

“The day you find your wife?” YN asks him, hands tight around the rope swings, “Shouldn’t you be in the ball, your majesty?”

“Call me Yoongi,” he says, “And I already have.”

“That’s wonderful!” YN exclaims, happy for her friend, “What is she like?”

The prince looks at her strangely. 

“Do you not know what you yourself are like?” he asks her.

“Of course I - what?” YN asks him.

“Don’t you remember our promise? We made it in this very spot.”

“Me? You want to marry me?” YN asks, convinced he must be joking.

But what would he gain from a lie such as this?

“Of course,” Yoongi says, “I love you after all.”

Today has been insane.

“How can you . . . but . . . we haven’t seen each other since we were children!”

“But we have,” Yoongi says.

He stands and under the moonlight his form seems to shiver and fade before another person stands in front of YN where the prince had stood seconds ago, just as the woman from earlier did.

This person is not unfamiliar to her. He’s the baker from the market, the one who would always sneak her extra loaves of bread. And then he shifts again, turning into the woman who gave her a free horse years ago and then into the milkman who would always bring one extra bottle for her. Yoongi shifts through a dozen different people, all people she knows, all people who have been kind to her. And finally, he turns into the woman from today, the one who had told her to drink the water.

“But . . . how . . . why?” YN gasps out.

It’s all too much. YN turns on her heel and tries to run, but the cold around her feet seems to get stuck on the ground. YN lifts up her shirt to see that her shoes are made of glass and wrapped up in vines, leaving her immobile. 

“You always used to run from me when you were younger,” Yoongi says, finally himself again, “And you even ran from me the other day. But no more.”

Yoongi, stronger than YN expected, sweeps her off of her feet, leaving her shoes behind. YN tries to fight him but can hardly move in his embrace.

“Yoongi, why are you doing this?” YN asks him.

“Aren’t you tired,” he asks her, “Of the way that wretched woman and her daughters treat you? Of the way everyone treats you?”

He places her down, her bare feet against the cold grass.

“Think about it YN. Every person who has ever been kind to you since your father passed has been me. They don’t deserve to have you. No one does! Just come with me, agree to be my wife and you’ll never have another worry. You’ll never go hungry or cold or abused again.”

YN wants to protest but finds no reason to. He’s right, after all. Everyone in her life but him and her parents have treated her horribly. And her parents are dead. He’s all she has left.

“Okay,” YN says, locking eyes with him in the moonlight, “I’ll marry you.”

Yoongi grins that sweet smile of his and pulls her close.

“Thank you, my love.”

As YN and Yoongi return to the ballroom, they are met with thunderous applause as the court and nobles in attendance cheer for his choice. He leads her to the front room where an officiant is already waiting, ready to seal their bond forever.

As soon as they’re pronounced man and wife - King and Queen, Yoongi pulls YN in for a kiss, waving his hand behind her back to signal the guard who is hiding in the crowd.

The guard returns the signal and disappears, off to dispose of three bodies - YN’s horrible family and the King who refused to allow his son to marry a noble who has lost her title. 

He’s not going to let anyone get in the way of their happily ever after.

#yandere bts #yandere yoongi #yoongi x reader #yandere x reader #bts x reader #fairytale retelling #this ended up a lot softer than i initially planned #oh well #hope you enjoy

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness??? **NOTE THERE’S A BIT OF ACCIDENTAL SELF-HARM IN THIS CHAPTER. I’LL PUT A WARNING BEFORE IT STARTS

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.2K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

UNREQUITED PLAYLISTS (SEND ME SONGS!)

-

PART 11

“Do you see yourself falling in love with him?”

Fred asked the question with no ill intent. He found you leaning against the door to the Great Hall in the middle of the night. You were surrounded by your favorite sweets, which you stole from the kitchen. He was out pulling a prank on Filch when he found you by yourself. George was setting up his part on the other side of the castle, leaving Fred to do his own part by himself. 

After a minute of pleasantries, Fred finally asked you what’s been going on. He knew you well and he was able to read you like an open book. The question that he asked you all those weeks ago at the Burrow resurfaced again. This time, you knew you had to tell Fred the truth because now you were certain there was something to share. 

You told him all about Draco. 

You told him about how the past few weeks, starting from the first day everyone got back to Hogwarts from the holidays, you’ve been sneaking away every other night to the meadow. You told him all about the fond looks that you had to hide from everyone else, the discrete touches in between classes, the stolen kisses in the shadows of the castle. 

You told Fred all about the way his lips felt on yours and how your stomach would be filled with butterflies no matter how many times you’ve felt it before. You told him all about how Draco was different when he was with you, how vulnerable he was with you. How sometimes he would somehow make it past the portraits and find his way to your dormitory in the middle of the night and you’d just hold each other, awake, until the first sign of light when he makes his way back to his own dormitory. 

You told Fred about it all. Every little thing. 

He listened closely, not sure what to say for the most part. This was Draco Malfoy you were talking about, the son of the man who made the Weasley family’s lives like hell. But he was trying to understand you because he heard your voice wavering while speaking. He saw the love in your eyes and the fear in your tone, and as much as he hates Draco, as much as he hates the Malfoys, he loves you and you need him right now. So he listened. 

You bit your tongue when you remembered one specific memory, knowing it’s too personal to share. It happened a week ago. Draco knocked on your door in the middle of the night- it couldn’t have been any later than 2 in the morning. When you opened the door, he collapsed in your arms. You knew he had a nightmare. He told you he had nightmares sometimes, but he never told you what happens in them. You knew better than to push, so after every nightmare, you’d just hold him until he calms. 

That night was different than others, however. He didn’t even wait until you got to your bed before he held you. When he engulfed you in a hug, he sobbed in your shoulder, unable to form coherent sentences. He was shaking like a dog, in hysterics, broken breaths slipping past his shaking lips. He was so silent- the type of silent you knew someone was when they were absolutely being shattered into bits. You’ve never seen him like this and it broke your heart into pieces. You didn’t know what to do. 

You carefully led him to your bed, humming the song his mother used to sing to him in his ear until he calmed his breathing. Once he did, he pulled away and toyed with your fingers, pulling you closer to his lap. You leaned over and peppered kisses on his face, kissing away the stray tears that fell from his eyes. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into your presence. It calmed him down more than he’d like to admit. He whimpered in appreciation when you kissed his lips softly, whispering words of affection into his skin. 

“You’re okay.” You assured him. “I’m right here.”

He watched you, cradling your face in the palm of his hand. You smiled at him, kissing the inside of his hand as he rubbed his thumb against your lips. He began to remember his dream- how they captured you, tortured you, and killed you right in front of him. He flinched remembering it. It felt so real. He let out a shuddered breath, “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” You questioned, cocking your head to one side. 

“First, I need to ask,” He sighed, pulling his hands away from you. “Do you trust me?”

You knitted your eyebrows together, unsure of where this conversation was going. “Of course.” 

Draco searched your face for a sign of apprehension. A sad smile grazed his features when he found you telling the truth, a small part of his doubt vanishing. But he knew that was the easy part. “Please, don’t hate me. I hope you don’t stop looking at me the way you do now once I tell you. I-I just… I need to tell you to keep you safe.”

“Draco?” You reached over to grab his hands but he flinched, placing them by his sides. Your eyes started to water, “What’s going on?”

“Please, don’t hate me.” He whispered, looking down. His voice cracked, unable to hold in his emotions. He started to tug on his sleeve, bunching the fabric above his elbow. Tears started to fall from his eyes as the black mark started to show from under his clothes. 

***

You gasped upon seeing the dark mark. Your eyes studied the mark on his forearm, breath growing heavy. The area around it was red and raw, as if he’d been scratching at it. You looked at it more closely and saw that your suspicions were true. There were faint marks, some fresh and some dull, indicating that Draco was clawing at his skin. It was like he was trying to scrub himself free from the mark. You subconsciously lifted a finger to trace the mark, immediately growing conscious of your actions when you heard him hiss from the pain. 

***

“Sorry,” You mumbled, adjusting your body to get closer to him. You watched him lift his head up, looking at you as you studied him. “When?”

“Just before Christmas.”

“Merlin…” 

Silence fell upon the both of you, neither of you knowing what to say next. Draco just watched you as you examined his forearm, tears congregating in his eyes. You still haven’t looked at him and he wasn’t sure he would be able to handle it if you looked up and looked at him like a monster. He knew he deserved that. He was a monster. As long as he had this mark on him, he’s a monster. He just didn’t want you to see him like that. Only you knew him- the real him. 

When you finally looked up, Draco felt the world stop. He studied your features, almost breaking down again when he saw nothing changed. You still looked at him with stars in your eyes, but this time, a wave of worry was also seen in your features. You were crying, holding his forearm close to your chest. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, growing concerned that you were now crying. 

“I’m so sorry, Draco.” You sobbed, pulling his face close to yours. You kissed his lips, mumbling apologies against them. “You shouldn’t have to go through this.”

Draco was stunned. He sat there, unable to say anything, because nothing in the world could’ve prepared him for what you just said to him. You don’t hate him? His eyes flickered down to where you were holding his forearm. His next words came out so soft, so breathy, you almost didn’t hear him, “I love you.”

Draco was too dazed staring at the woman he loved to notice you freeze at his words. You snapped out of it, breath hitched in your throat. Instead of saying anything back, you leaned down and kissed his skin tainted with the dark mark. He cried harder once you began kissing the part of him he was most ashamed of. 

“Y/N,” Fred asked again. “Do you see yourself falling in love with him?”

You hesitated before you spoke. A silence lingered in the air. Fred was patient, taking small bites from his snack as he waited for your answer. You looked ahead, trying to frame your response correctly. 

“Honestly,” You began, licking your lips to dampen them. “Yes, I do.” 

He took a bite out of the biscuit you passed him. Small crumbs flew out of his mouth as he opened it again to speak, making you laugh a bit. “So what’s the problem?”

“I can see myself falling in love with him but I don’t want to.” You closed your eyes, guilt taking over your body. Fred urged you to continue, confusion evident on his features. “I don’t want to fall in love with him, Fred. I’m afraid that once I let myself fall, I’ll forget about how Cedric makes me feel and I just- I don’t want to forget it. Fred, it’s the only thing I have left of Cedric. I don’t want to give it up yet.” 

Fred didn’t know what to say. He didn't know what you were feeling and as horrible as it sounded, he wished he never would feel it. He saw the impact of Cedric’s death on you and he watched you live in agony every second. He saw the way your face dropped after the smallest detail. He could see it in your eyes. A part of you died when Cedric did. 

Instead of speaking, he wrapped an arm around you, letting you fall into him. You snuggled into his side, not even caring if you two were going to get caught. You heard footsteps coming closer to the two of you. You lifted your head just enough to see a figure walking in your direction. You let out a breath of relief when you saw George, hair disheveled. You expected him to ask why you and Fred were sitting in the dark by yourself but he didn’t. He just sat on the other side of you, leaning his head on your shoulder. 

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around their waists. Your eyes shifted between the two of them, “You guys mean a lot to me, you know that?”

“You mean a lot to us too, Y/N.” George said, kissing your cheek. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without the two of you.” You sighed, honesty in your voice. “Seriously, I know I say that a lot but I mean it.”

The two boys stiffened at your words, making you panic. You sat up, almost causing George to fall when he lost the person he was leaning on. You looked at the two, eyebrow raised at their strange reaction. You waited for them to speak, heart beating quicker and quicker as they scrambled furiously, trying to figure out what to say. 

Fred started, “Y/N, we have to tell you something.”

“But before we do, we want you to know, you’ll always have us.”

“Even if we’re not physically here.”

You pushed them again, done with their coded messages. “What are you two on about?”

“We’re leaving Hogwarts next week.” 

Your heart dropped. A frown was plastered on your face as you got up from the floor. You crossed your arms over your chest, “W-what do you mean?”

George sighed, “Me and Freddie, we’re starting a joke shop. We leave next week.”

“Georgie, you guys are so close to graduating.” You argued. 

“We know, Y/N.” Fred got up next, walking closer to you. “But you know us. School’s not the right path for us and plus, Umbridge is really laying it on us. We hate it here, Y/N. Please understand that.” 

You groaned, knowing that he was right. Of course you understood why they were leaving. A joke shop seems perfect for the two boys. It’s everything that they’ve always wanted. They get to live on forever, be as young as they want to be. It’s perfect for them. “Where’s the shop at?”

George smiled, “Diagon Alley.” 

“Lovely,” You smiled, despite a pang of worry hitting your chest. You motioned for them to hug you and they happily obliged, sandwiching you between their two warm bodies. “You two better write me, you hear? Don’t forget me just because you’re running a successful business.” 

“Never.” George chuckled. “You’re too special for us to forget.”

“I told you, Y/N,” Fred added, tears in his eyes. “We’ll always be here for you. And you need to know that if Malfoy ever breaks your heart, I’ll curse him myself.”

George pulled away, eyes widening in shock. “Come again?” 

You blushed, hitting Fred’s arm. You faced the other ginger, smiling as you began to think about Draco. “Oh Georgie, you’re in for a ride.”  

Back in Draco’s room, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw the flash of yellow that illuminated his otherwise dark room, even if it was just for a second. And with that, he let himself drift to sleep with you in his dreams.

-

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#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter series #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy x yn #draco malfoy imagine #cedric diggory #cedric diggory series #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fanfic #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x yn #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #unrequited fic #frances writes #hermione granger

[jaggedheartstrings]

Quiet My Restless Soul

1.

Summary:

When Sarah told Steve and Bucky that they could go to Italy for the summer, Bucky never expected to fall in love with the man behind the soft piano notes.

He thought maybe the first time he heard him might’ve been the first thing he fell in love about him.

-

AO3 Link

When Sarah Rogers informed her boys that they’d be spending the summer in Italy at a house her friend owned, Bucky couldn’t believe the luck. Sarah’s friend had promised to pay for the boys tickets, too. Which really was the only reason why Bucky and Steve were going to Italy in the first place. They both knew money was tight, even more tight than it had been last year. See, Sarah had fallen ill and unfortunately her jackass boss had fired her because she was sick for two months, unable to come to work. They were basically living on support checks.

If Bucky and Steve weren’t going on this trip, they’d have spent their summers working somewhere unpleasant. It was still hard to get a decent job without any degree. And all the past summers they’d work as cleaners or something similar to that. Bucky was grateful, though he was worried. The summer jobs have payed for a lot before, but Sarah had assured it was fine and that everything was handled. He still wasn’t assured, but Steve had guilted him into coming as it was a great opportunity for him to make more art and go to museums.

So that put them here, in the middle of nowhere Italy, in front of a quite large villa. Frankly Bucky was expecting a house with possibly three bedrooms. Though this explained why Sarah’s friend had offered to pay for the flight tickets. They obviously had the money.

“It’s gorgeous,” Steve breathed out next to him as they stepped out of the black SUV. Bucky couldn’t help the glance of befuddlement towards him. Bucky couldn’t see the beauty in the old villa. Sure, it was great architecture, but he never could appreciate things on the level Steve could. The smaller boy had an artist’s soul and he’d had for it as long as Bucky had known him.

Steve, the small ball of fury, grabbed Bucky’s hand to pull him towards the villa. Despise his size the boy could pull him along without struggle. A soft half smile tugged at his lips and he couldn’t help but wonder; what would his life be with out Steve? He surely wouldn’t be in a place as good as now. No matter how much he pretended to be annoyed and frustrated with his best friend, they both knew Bucky wouldn’t trade Steve for the world.

The large mahogany door was something out of a museum. The door was obviously old and heavily used, time had worn it out. “You think we should knock?” Bucky grumbled.

“Did Ma say there was someone here with us?” Steve asked, pausing his hand on the door bell. Bucky racked his brain for any knowledge about possible roommates or “villamates” in this case.

“Not that I remember,” Bucky admitted.

“Then why the hell’d you ask if we should knock?” Steve scowled at him. His long and delicate fingers (an artists fingers) reached into his pocket to retrieve a pair of keys for the villa. With an effortless move he slid the keys into the lock and grabbed the handle of the door. But once Steve actually pressed the handle, the door opened. Steve demanded at Bucky, “It’s open. Why is it open?”

“How would I know?” You’re the reason we’re here anyway, Bucky left unsaid.

As soon as they stepped into the foyer an old woman bustled towards them, “Ah! Perfect timing.” The woman smiled and pulled them into the hallway. “Leave your shoes and bags here. Mrs. Stark informed me you would be arriving soon.”

Steve turned towards Bucky, and mouthed Stark? His eyes were comically wide. Bucky just shrugged.

They followed the older lady into the warm and large, but homey kitchen. There she sat them down around a large wooden table and offered them both a mug of tea and chocolate chip cookies. Steve eagerly dug in to the cookie platter, scarfing down at least three in one go. “Stevie, don’t choke.”

“I’m fine, mom.” Steve said, or that’s what Bucky assumed the mumbling through cookie crumbs actually meant. Gingerly, Bucky took one of the cookies and sipped his tea slowly. It was an amazing mix of fruit and berries. The flavor burst on his tongue.

“Who built this villa?” Steve asked once he had swallowed his cookies. “Are they someone I’d recognize?”

“Most likely not,” the old lady who’d introduced herself as Mantri admitted. “This was built in the late eighteen hundreds by a fellow named Angelo Carbonell, Mrs. Stark’s grand-grandfather. So, unless you are familiar with the Carbonell family line, you would not know who built this.”

“It’s a beautiful villa anyway. Do you live here?” Steve questioned all the while grabbing another cookie. Bucky grumbled something into his tea before standing up and leaving the kitchen. The chatter fading into the background as Bucky set to explore the villa.

* * *

 He’d been wondering for at least half an hour, before something made Bucky stop in his tracks. In front of him was a beautiful grand piano. It was situated in a circular room with large windows facing the forest around the house. The room itself only held the piano, a large sofa and a single bookshelf filled with different books from all over the world.

Bucky wondered into the room, going straight for the grand piano. His fingers slid over the edges, caressing the wood. He had always gravitated towards hard hand work (though he preferred cars and machinery over crafts). He could see the piano was made by hand. Someone who’d loved to create had carved the piano with sweet caresses and hard work.

A soft smile rose to Bucky’s lips. Maybe it was Mrs. Stark who played the piano. Or one of the staff. Whoever it belonged to, they deeply cared about playing. He could see the wear on the keys.

Bucky heard a noise and turned around. No one was in the room or at the door, but Bucky could swear he heard a sound that could only come from a human. Narrowing his eyes, he moved towards the door. But once he got there, he couldn’t see anyone.

Bucky huffed out a breath of frustration and headed for the bookshelf that had been on his mind since stepping in. Most of the books were in Italian, but he could see a few here and there in English. He grabbed one that looked interesting and sat down to read the book.

He’d gotten about a fourth through the book when Steve entered the room, looking out of breath. “This place is a maze.” He complained and flopped onto the couch. The blond closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and looking around. “Oh, this place is amazing.”

“It’s quiet.” Bucky murmured and marked his book before setting it aside. He turned towards Steve who was watching him carefully.

“It is. And peaceful,” Steve observed and smiled. “It’s like the perfect place for you to relax.”

Bucky flashed the smallest of smiles in Steve’s direction and the blond straight up beamed up at him. “Yeah,” he sighed. It truly was something Bucky wished he could have anywhere. Steve kept looking at him and frankly, it was making him uncomfortable. It was the same stare he’d gotten all the time after his accident. He couldn’t help but snap at Steve, “would you stop that?”

“Stop what?” Steve looked so goddamn innocent. Bucky felt like tearing his hair out.

“Waiting for me to go insane,” he growled out, his anxiety raising. “I have to go.”

“Wait, Buck-”

But Bucky was already gone.

#winteriron #bucky barnes #Tony Stark #Italian Tony Stark #Summer romance

[giasonesdream]

I Can’t Even

Pairing: Jeongguk x Taehyung, Taehyung x Jimin

Summary: A story where Jimin is the side-piece and he knows it, Taehyung is a shit boyfriend and he knows it, and Jeongguk thinks Taehyung is the best boyfriend ever...(Explicit)

Crossposted on AO3 and based off this still amazing FMV

tagged: Smut, taekook, vmin, cheating, videotaping, Angst, hella sad, read at your own risk

Word Count: 6679 (14 fucking pages what glue was I even on when I wrote this wtf)

You: hey I thought you were coming over??

Jeongguk sends the message without any hesitance. He is tired from the long day of classes and his part-time job at the university’s bookstore, and all he wants to do is cuddle up with his stupid boyfriend and preferably watch an even stupider movie (“I don’t think ‘stupider’ is a word, though,” Taehyung would say in retaliation).

But said boyfriend is not sprawled out over his couch when he gets back to his apartment, and he usually always beats Jeongguk home.

Not a minute later, his phone dings! in reply:

taetae<3: haha yeah..sorry? something came up. I’m pretty busy rn

Jeongguk isn’t given time to respond when Taehyung shoots back with:

taetae<3: ill come over tomorrow and bring your favorite cookies :))

Heaving a sigh, Jeongguk sinks into the cushion of his sofa. He can already feel the crumbs of the flaky almond cookies tumble from his chin, making him a proper mess that Taehyung will try to tease him for. “Now we match,” he would say back, feigning annoyance before placing a sloppy kiss on the other’s cheek, the evidence of his lips being the crumbs that stick to Taehyung’s golden skin.

You: oh okay, I love u bby

taetae<3: ill ttyl

taetae<3: <3

He tosses his phone onto the coffee table in front of him, only giving himself a moment of silence before he pushes himself off the couch, ready to wander around and enjoy his weekend freedom.

Meanwhile, Taehyung’s heart drops in his chest as the message shows that Jeongguk has seen it. He isn’t lying - he truly does love his boyfriend. But that is where the truth ends, Taehyung knows. He stares at the chat right as he gets a notification from a number saved conspicuously as Pizza Hut. When Taehyung clicks on the chat, the first new thing to pop up is a photo attachment that loads to show something very unrelated to pizza (though, maybe just as mouthwatering):

Jimin is lying on his bed, a black hoodie that looks suspiciously like one that Taehyung had left at his place on his chest and the hood covering his eyes, only to leave the view of parted, plump and full lips. Then the messages read:

Pizza Hut: Im waiting..

Pizza Hut: babe i need u

Taehyung still feels a bit guilty, honestly...but Jimin is so goddamn enticing, tempting. It’s hard for him not to shoot up from his table in the tutoring center, waving goodbye to Namjoon as he shrugs on his jacket and makes his way out of the building and off campus in the opposite direction of his boyfriend.

You: omw

Jimin busies himself with scrolling angrily through photos of a happy couple he has known for, what, two years now? If he recalls correctly (and there’s no interpreting this wrong, he fucking remembers) he was the one to help Taehyung and Jeongguk become friends. Taehyung had been the spritely young man in his general education calc class that had a voice deep enough to rattle in his bones (and he has no shame in admitting he’d wanted to drop to his knees instantly for him), and Jeongguk was the reserved, polite, adorable kid in his first level hip hop dance class that seemed to contain the upper body strength of someone twice his size. He hadn’t seen any harm in having the two meet each other especially since Taehyung had spoken to him first, shown interest in him fucking first.

But here he is, glaring at a picture of Jeongguk’s selfie, one that just so happens to show the hickies scattered on the side of his neck as if Taehyung has never done that to him either.

When he gets another text from Taehyung informing him he’s just five minutes away, Jimin slides from his bed to grab the equipment, heart beat picking up a little at the excitement of his plan. His dresser stands on the wall in front of his bed, and there he has a makeshift tripod constructed to hold the video camera he’d been gifted with before he started university.

When the red light signifies the camera is recording, he paces, unsure of what to do exactly. There’s some sort of adrenaline that pumps his veins even though he knows there’s more to come. He finally opts for sitting on the foot of his bed, flopping back. Words flow from his mouth before he even knows it.

“Jeonggukie,” he sighs. He hopes he’s speaking loud enough for the camera to hear. “I’ve been hooking up with this guy...he’s the best I ever had.” There’s a smile on his lips that he knows the camera cannot see. His mind wanders to the times he’s spent with Taehyung, getting fucked with his tongue, his fingers, his cock; the smallest moan escapes his lips, the blood traveling south. “So good…”and this moan isn’t as clipped.

He cuts his imagination short, sitting up and running his fingers through the black strands as he looks at the camera. He smiles, pinkie slipping between his lips. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

And by the grace of whatever deity looks down on Jimin fondly, he hears a faint knock on his apartment door. He gives one last wink to the camera before scurrying off to answer the door.

Jimin still isn’t used to the fiery red of Taehyung’s hair as it simply sits on his head, no need to be styled, unlike with Jimin’s hair. There needs to be some effort with Jimin. Taehyung is flawless, and Jimin is the luckiest to be able to witness that perfection.

“Hey.” Taehyung greets simply, though his voice is low and his eyes are dark. He takes a step forward, not waiting to be allowed into the living room.

“Hi.” Jimin smiles sweetly because he is always so excited whenever he gets to see this man in front of him. Oh, how he’s changed in the last two years that they have known each other. The thin sweater Taehyung wears now hangs nicely from his broad shoulders, clinging to his chest just a bit tighter than how they used to. His neck is thicker, so much room to mark him.

But he knows he can’t…

Jimin pushes those thoughts aside as he wraps one hand around that neck to drag Taehyung into a kiss. It starts out innocent enough -a happy greeting-, but when Jimin pulls back to breathe, the other is already chasing after him, slipping his tongue into the parted, full lips he spent the whole walk thinking about. He had a thing for biting, and the lips were never left unscathed...especially when they looked absolutely sinful when blistery and red, swollen from abuse.

Taehyung pulls back then, his eyes fluttering open to no more than half-lidded as he tugs on the fabric that practically swallows the other whole. “You have my hoodie,” he states simply.

They’re both panting, and Jimin is slowly starting to lose his train of thought, so he nods with a smile. “Looks good on me, right?”

“Shit, is that even a question?” Taehyung yanks Jimin forward so their bodies are molded together, every inch meeting from head to toe. “Gonna let me fuck you against the wall? Let my sweater keep you nice and warm while I work you open?”

God, that mouth. It’s the very thing that drew Jimin in and it wouldn’t be just perfect if it didn’t eat him alive with every word uttered. He shivers at the idea; it’s tempting, that’s for sure.

“M-maybe later.” His breath hitches. “But I need to show you something in my room first.” There’s a frown to Taehyung’s features that makes Jimin take his hand and lead him down a very familiar path to Jimin’s bedroom.

Taehyung doesn’t notice it first, his eyes staying on the back of Jimin’s head as they enter. It isn’t until he’s guided to sit on the foot of his bed that Taehyung realizes the camera looking him in the eyes. With an eyebrow arched, Jimin explains.

“I wanted to try something different.” Jimin sits on his knees next to him, facing his profile as he leans in to whisper in the other’s ear. “I want something to watch when you’re gone off playing ‘Boyfriend’ with Jeongguk.”

Taehyung turns his head at the name mentioned, face colliding with Jimin’s as he breathes the other in. Some part of him aches at the reminder of what he’s doing, but the lust burns more potently, and the idea of punishing this small boy comes to mind. “Told you not to talk about him.”

Their lips are hairsbreadth apart, and Jimin is too focused on how they are touching his. “I’m sorry.” The apology sounds sweetly insincere. “Should I turn the camera off?”

Taehyung’s head shake is subtle but enough since Jimin was on him again, pressing their lips together as the kiss turned open, desperate. He climbs to straddle Taehyung, a lick of fire trailing up his spine at how those hands encompass his waist so perfectly, so securely, like he wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if he wanted to. And Taehyung swallows his moan when his hands move from Jimin’s hips and around to his ass, nails scratching into the denim fabric when he pulls the other closer.

Some part of Jimin wants to lose himself in the kiss, the way Taehyung’s tongue licks at the inside of his mouth and claims him; he wants to keep grinding down on both their growing lengths, but there’s too many obstacles. Too many layers of clothes. Taehyung must have the same thought as his hands push underneath the hoodie to find bare skin, dragging his fingers up the smooth skin of his back before pulling away.

“Off,” is the only word Taehyung gives, but Jimin understands, slides off the man’s lap to tug off the hoodie and go for the buttons of his jeans. He can feel those dark, deep eyes on him, watching his rather graceless stripshow and Jimin cannot stop the heat that rises up his chest. He plans on complaining once he’s naked, but after his underwear pool at his ankles, hands find their way back to Jimin’s waist, tugging him back into Taehyung’s lap and bringing their mouths together again.

“What about...you?” Jimin asks between kisses.

Taehyung rests his forehead against Jimin’s, panting and trying hard to find some semblance of control. “What do you want me to do?”

A surprised groan falls from Jimin’s lips. So it’s that kind of night, one where Taehyung will make it seem like the other has all the power. “Tell me what you want,” he’ll say; “How and where do you want me?” This kind of power is hardly ever in Jimin’s court, and it’s almost dizzying how fucking hot it gets him.

After a heavy sigh, Jimin says, “T-take your clothes off and sit back down. Wanna make you feel good.”

An obedient Taehyung is rare, Jimin knows this. But that’s what makes the times when the taller pulls out the choker, holds his wrist together, all the more worth it. Not to say that Jimin doesn’t absolutely love the Taehyung that likes to tease, laugh when he begs for more, pulls back just to edge the pleasure until it’s unbearable- no. Jimin has jerked off so many times to a memory of Taehyung pinning his body down and taking what he wants with reckless abandon.

Taehyung pulls at his clothes unceremoniously, subtle glances to the camera that the other catches every second. Jimin can see the cogs turning in that perfect head, and he’s about to ask what he’s thinking.

“Is this for you only?”

The question seems innocent, but a pang of worry creeps into Jimin’s mind. Had he put two and two together?

“It’s just that...you’d look so pretty and if the camera missed anything-”

Jimin promptly shuts the other up with his tongue in his mouth, both with happiness at how willing Taehyung is to try this out, but also at the twitch of his own cock at the idea of having the camera focused solely on him and what he can do to the other man. There’s no doubt about it that Jimin likes to watch himself given he plans on making a career out of observing and making note of the way his body moves and how it can be better, so it doesn’t surprise anyone that he may or may not have a few videos of himself masturbating, fingering himself or using some of his favourite toys (there was a prostate massager he bought and tried out with Taehyung. It was then categorized as a toy for special times because that thing was powerful).

When they finally part, Taehyung stands and reaches for the camera, plopping back down on the bed and ignoring the squeak as he turns to focus the camera on Jimin. “As you were,” he says with a chuckle.

There’s a sultry glint to Jimin’s eyes, a smile none too pure as he sinks to his knees, first holding Taehyung’s gaze before giving a wink to the camera as he starts of trail of soft pecks on the inside of Taehyung’s thighs.

It doesn’t even feel real when Taehyung watches everything from the viewfinder, can’t comprehend that the face he sees in the camera is the same one that is between his legs at this very instant. That is, until Jimin’s lips come to kiss Taehyung’s stiff cock. It’s a featherlight touch, one he hardly feels but it only makes him ache for more. Lucky for Taehyung, Jimin doesn’t tease all that much, and soon enough the other licks up the underside until he can wrap his lips around the head.

Taehyung nearly loses his grip on the device in his hand, stuck between wanting to watch the man as he actually takes his time to thoroughly coat his dick or watch it all unfold through the viewfinder. His brain chooses for him, opting to weave his fingers through the raven strands as he watches Jimin’s head bob up and down his length.

The elder revels in the low, husky sounds that come from the man above him, how his voice reverberates through his body, allows him to feel just as much as he can hear how much he affects Kim Taehyung. The hand in his hair tightens a fraction when Jimin feels he can take more of the other’s cock, fighting back his gag reflex and never stopping the swirl of his tongue as he goes further down. Curses fly out frantically and it encases the smaller man on his knees, the sounds going to his own hard member, and he needs some type of friction to alleviate the pressure. The hand not holding Taehyung’s dick sits in a fist on his own thigh, itching to just move and palm at his own boner- no. No, Taehyung will make him feel good. He always does.

Taehyung bucks his hips up just as Jimin finally manages him down his throat, swallowing thickly at the intrusion and trying hard not force him out. It feels too good, Jimin’s mouth. So wet, hot, addictive, Taehyung just wants to continue. But when he looks through the camera just as Jimin looks up, he knows they can’t keep this up for long. He wants to fuck Jimin every way he knows how; fucking needs to.

With the grip he has on Jimin’s scalp, he tugs the man off his cock, a string of saliva connecting his bottom, swollen lip to the red and angry head. He doesn’t give his lover a minute to breathe before he drags Jimin into a searing kiss, probably not getting a good angle with the camera, but at this very moment, fuck the camera.

Jimin desperately needs air but also desperately needs to keep kissing Taehyung, and a whimper bubbles in his chest as his body fights for its basic necessity. Taehyung tears them apart, pupils wide and focused on the dishevelled man in front of him. His voice is a growl when he speaks.

“Put the camera back and lay on the bed.”

When Jimin feels level-headed enough, he pouts, knowing good and well how great he must look right now. “But I thought I was in charge tonight.”

The red head laughs even though there’s nothing amusing about Jimin’s statement. He only gives a nod before standing up, the few inches he has on the other boy playing well into the dominant act as he leans down, their faces leveled with each other.

“Be a good boy and put the fucking camera back and lay on the fucking bed.”

Without a word, Jimin does as he is told, taking the camera to put back on his dresser and walking past Taehyung, ready to sit down when the other tells him to lay “on his stomach”.

He rolls over, lying horizontally across the bed so that the camera can easily capture their profiles. Jimin feels the bed dip underneath him and waits in anticipation.

He starts at the nape of Jimin's neck, a soft peck to contrast the hard member that slots between Jimin's cheeks. Taehyung loves when Jimin melts under his touch, becomes relaxed and sated with the softest touches. He keeps going, creating a searing path down the elder's spine, eyes focused on the way his muscles seem to simultaneously relax and tense with his actions.

When he gets to Jimin's ass, he stops, attentive to the boy of the other's head. "Why so tense?" he taunts, grabbing the globes of Jimin's ass and spreading them apart, kneading them just to hear how Jimin's breath stutter.

Park Jimin, the unabashed fiend he is, has the nerve to act shy, pleading with a small voice and reluctant to look back and meet the eyes of the man that makes him feel insane with pleasure.

And Kim Taehyung, the smart man he is, falls for it every goddamn time.

The first long lick to his hole leaves Jimin with tight muscles, as if he's never been eaten out before. On the contrary, Taehyung was the master at using his tongue in the most sinful, dirty ways imaginable. Every time would always feel like the first.

With his hands resting at Jimin's hips, Taehyung gives another tentative lick, making sure to start at his perineum, the tip of his tongue getting caught on his rim.

"Shit," Jimin hisses, clenching around air while his dick twitches where it's trapped between him and the bed. "Just...fuck...please."

He shivers at the responding chuckle, Taehyung's hot breath fanning across his hole. "Want me to fuck you with my tongue? Get you nice and wet for me cock?"

The heat that shoots up his spine leaves Jimin panting, the images in his head getting him even more eager for the other's tongue. He nods frantically , pressing his cheek into the cotton of his duvet. When he catches the red light of the camera, he grins, another bout of lust to fuel him when he thinks about how incredible they must look and-

"Oh, fuck!" keens the elder, jerking away from the pleasure as Taehyung dives in, sucking at his rim and dipping the wet muscle inside only to pull it out. Always the tease even when he's getting down to business.

His eyes are closed to the world, focusing on the pleasure the other gives him. He doesn't even try to hold back the noises, the moans, whimpers, groans, breathy cries. When Taehyung finally licks inside him, pushing his tongue in to stretch his walls, Jimin falls silent, mouth open and fingers curling into the sheets.

Taehyung groans low when he feels Jimin clench around him, hardly able to fuck him properly. "Relax, baby," he soothes before he's going back in to thrust his muscle in and out.

It's too much, the heat searing Jimin's skin and there is no relief in sight. His heart hammers in his chest, blood ringing in his ears and dick curled tightly to his stomach. He needs to relieve some of the pressure, rub against his bed, get a hand around himself- something. But when he tries to wriggle away, Taehyung only clamps down on his hips more, trapping him to just take whatever the other will give him, and Jimin is never sure if he's ready for the onslaught.

And then he feels a finger press inside beside his tongue, and a tremor racks through his body, burying his face in his elbow while white spots dance behind his closed eyelids.

Jimin's words are muffled, but Taehyung think the other is saying "please" over and over. He could stay back here for all of eternity, making the other fall apart on his tongue and fingers. But the way his walls flutter around him, he cannot exactly forget how incredible Jimin feels around his cock.

He needs to fuck him into the mattress. Fucking yesterday.

Taehyung pulls away, admiring the way the other whines but ultimately stays in place. He quickly grabs the bottle of lube he knows is stashed under Jimin's pillow (easy access is how Jimin explains it) and crawls back to hover over the boy panting with a slight sheen of sweat coating his fair skin.

"Want something, gorgeous?" taunts the red head, watching as the other arches his back in search of him while he slicks up his fingers. "You are in charge, after all," he whispers into Jimin's ear, faintly feeling the goosebumps that rise under his light touch.

There's a moment of silence where Jimin thinks of what to say: "get your tongue back in me", "tear me apart", "fuck me so I can feel it for days". But his brain doesn't work so well when he's already high like this, not being able to make his mouth work properly when his brain is damn near fried. "Fuck me," he commands simply, eyes fluttering to meet Taehyung's.

The answer must be good enough for him, a lazy smirk on his lips as he leans down to nibble at Jimin's neck, all the while running his lube coated fingers over his already spit-slick entrance. He can tell the elder is holding his breath, waiting to be breached. It would be amusing to Taehyung if he wasn't also holding some crazy amount of self-control himself.

The first finger goes in easily, a sigh of relief escaping Jimin's bloodshot lips. He looks sedated, calm. That changes, however, when Taehyung decides that Jimin can take another, the fit more snug as he curls two long fingers deep inside the silk walls of his ass. Black strands matting to his forehead, Jimin seems to be in some state of euphoria with Taehyung’s fingers massaging at his inner walls. Satisfyingly beautiful.

The furrow in Jimin’s brow deepens when Taehyung expertly grazes the other’s prostate, still thrusting slowly, making sure to stroke at that bundle of nerves every time. He allows the boy under him to twist about, trying to get his fingers deeper, make him go harder. With a frustrated sigh, Jimin snarls.

“Harder, please.”

And there’s that laugh, the one that both makes Jimin feel safe and riles him up all in one. “Since you asked so nicely…”

A slight burn comes when Taehyung adds the third finger, making Jimin clamp around him, inhaling deeply.

Fuck, he would feel so amazing around Taehyung’s cock.

The redhead leaves wet kisses on Jimin’s shoulder, helping him to loosen up so Taehyung can prepare him until all he feels is pleasure. Not a minute later and Jimin is back to moaning, his voice angelic and filthy all at once, making Taehyung’s neglected cock twitch in excitement. He doesn’t think he can wait any longer, burying his fingers inside to press at Jimin’s prostate until he’s drawn tight, only a squeak to get past his lips.

Jimin threads his fingers through the fiery tresses, yanking Taehyung down so he can whisper into the other’s mouth, “Get your dick inside me now.”

Taehyung obeys, quickly removing his fingers and grabbing the bottle to pour some lube onto his member, hissing slightly at the cool liquid that meets hot flesh. He coats his dick evenly, mixing in the lube with the precum that’s pooled at the head before he falls back over Jimin, grabbing his cheeks to spread him, watch the way his hole flutters.

“Shit, baby,” Taehyung hisses, taking one hand away to guide himself in. “Gonna fuck you open so you feel me for days.” He doesn’t give Jimin much time to respond with anything other than a whine as he thrusts forward, not stopping until he’s completely sheathed in Jimin’s tight, wet heat. A stream of curses leave him before he even realizes, his head falling to rest at the nape of Jimin’s neck.

The other isn’t faring so well, either, breathing uneven as his body tries to adjust to Taehyung’s size, the feeling of him bottoming out something he can never get used to. He stays deathly still for what feels like hours before he starts to push back even though Taehyung hasn’t left him much room.

“Move, Tae,” Jimin pleads, head dropped between his shoulders.

And, of course, Taehyung does as he’s told because he doesn’t need to be told twice. He starts slow, making sure Jimin feels every inch as it slides out and back inside. But with the way Jimin contracts around him, Taehyung isn’t sure how long he can keep this up. The elder seems to hold the same sentiment.

Taehyung feels a smaller hand scramble to grab to his ass, using his strength to drag Taehyung impossibly deeper. “Harder, fuck.” And again...who is Taehyung to deny his baby what he wants?

Jimin gets the breath knocked out of him when Taehyung snaps his hips harshly, but he loves it. Loves the sting when the other’s hip slam against his ass. Their bodies fit so perfectly together, uneven breaths synced to a rhythm that just flows. Jimin would be lying if he didn’t admit that he just loves them together. Thinks it’s perfection, just like the man pounding into his ass.

His vision goes white when Taehyung shifts and nails his prostate. His head falls to the bed, muffled screams and professions of “there, there, there,” leave his mouth  with his eyes screwed shut. But Taehyung must hear him since he pulls back until he’s on his knees, grabbing the other’s hips to pick up his pace.

Jimin’s nails dig into Taehyung’s skin, and they both forget the younger’s rule of no marking, because how can he explain to Jeongguk why there are scratches on his ass like that? Jimin needs both hands to clamour at the sheets, though, white-knuckling the duvet while Taehyung shows no signs of slowing down.

He’s burning up from the inside out, fire prickling his every nerve, and he can’t take it. “Tae,” he mumbles weakly, his brain short-circuiting while he gets pounded into the mattress. There’s no way he won’t feel this in every muscle of his being. Fuck.

Eyes fluttering open, Jimin meets the camera that stares them down once again, and a wicked idea enters his hardly functioning brain. With trembling hands, Jimin palms at Taehyung’s hip, pushing him away.

Taehyung stops immediately, worry painting his features as he pulls away and examines the boy beneath him. “You okay? Something wrong?”

If Jimin wasn’t such an diabolical shit, he would probably find this adorable. But he has a plan set and he will see it through. “Let me ride you.” His voice is fucked, a mere croak from the abuse it’s gotten tonight.

The words seem to lag in Taehyung’s head, but once it all catches up with him, he groans, falling forward to capture Jimin’s lips in a frantic kiss that only uses tongue. He pulls away after a minute, flopping next to Jimin and grabbing at his waist. “Yeah, ride me, baby.”

Jimin musters whatever strength he has left to crawl into the other’s lap, not wasting a minute before he’s sliding down on the other’s cock. He sits there, barely moving his hips as he revels in how deep Taehyung is inside of him. He’s going to feel this, for sure.

Taehyung’s hands on Jimin’s waist urge him to move, and Jimin allows it, covering the other’s hands with his own as he uses the muscles in his thighs to bounce up and down on Taehyung.

Taehyung’s orgasm creeps on him, allowing him to enjoy the feel of satin walls massaging his hard member, sucking him in and gripping him tight. But when he feels it, it practically hits him like a freight train, and suddenly he’s thrusting up into Jimin’s heat just as the other sinks down, slamming into his prostate head on.

“Fuck, Tae!” cries out Jimin as he falls forward, thighs trembling while Taehyung continues to pistol into his hole. He thighs clamp around the other’s waist, forcing him higher and higher until Taehyung yanks him down by his hips, keeping him still. “Shit, shitshitshit- right there Tae, fu-”

Taehyung groans, enjoying the view of Jimin falling apart above him. “That’s it, baby. Fucking take it like a good boy.” The keen Jimin responds with is music to his ringing ears. He needs to cum, but he won’t until Jimin finishes first. “Gonna cum for me, baby?”

That seems to sober Jimin up just a bit, enough for him to open his eyes, pupils blown and staring Taehyung down.

“Say his name.”

Taehyung’s brain racks for understanding, still too caught up in ecstasy to understand the command. “What?” he pants. His head falls back into the covers when Jimin clenches around him so deliciously tight. He can feel it, his climax just standing there at the edge. “Who?”

Jimin rolls his hips languidly, reveling in how Taehyung’s pace stutters. “Say his name for me, baby.”

With a growl, Taehyung heaves himself up, wrapping an arm around the other’s waist to keep him seated, keep himself buried balls deep. Jimin’s jaw drops in a silent cry, walls tightening around the other like a vice grip.

“Fuck, Jimin,” Taehyung moans, voice reaching some deeper octave that vibrates through the other’s bones, makes him feel it in every inch of his being. “Cum for me, baby. I know you can.”

Jimin can feel it all over, the way Taehyung’s cock sits so perfectly inside him that his body screams for release; his toes curl just as his fingers grip at the other’s shoulders, some last effort to hold on for dear life as the euphoria drips from his pores, surges through his veins and leaves him locked tight. Cum spurts from his untouched cock, not like he can see it with where his face is buried in the other’s neck to muffle the litany of high pitched sobs and tears that threaten to leak from his eyes.

Taehyung can’t swallow back the hearty groan that rips from his chest, his dick suffocated in the burning walls that contract so exquisitely around him. He tries to focus on holding onto Jimin as he shakes violently, keeping him close while he comes down from his high.

“We’re not done,” he reminds the other, feeling the way he licks at the salt on his neck. Jimin pulls back to see his face, cheeks and neck flushed in a deep red, hair matted to his head and eyes wet. Cute, Taehyung thinks, holding onto Jimin’s waist as he rolls them over, keeping himself buried inside the other.

Jimin is weak, but he still grips Taehyung’s biceps as the other fucks him almost furiously, chasing his own orgasm and rubbing at his sensitive nub. The tears from before trail down, mixing in with the sweat on his face as he arches, unsure of whether he wants to get away or pull Taehyung closer.

“Shit,” he hears the other curse, bending down to encompass Jimin completely as his thrusts get sporadic. “Chim…baby -fuck- you feel so good.” He licks messily at the sweat on his neck before he bites down, eliciting a weak moan from the other.

Jimin turns his head, giving the other room to mark him like he knows Taehyung loves to do. For the time before, Jimin is okay with the one-sidedness. One day, he’s sure it won’t matter who marks who. Again, his eyes meet the camera, and he’s sure his grin does not seem all too innocent, all too playful.

“Taehyung,” he sighs, still looking at the camera. “Cum for me, baby.”

And, of course, Jimin is in charge tonight, right? It’s almost instant how Taehyung pushes forward, burying himself to the hilt as he feels his orgasm flow through him, muscles strained and shaking with every blow. And Jimin milks him beautifully.

Neither are sure how long they stay like that, both more than happy to stay connected like this. But there is a very present feeling of cool cum drying on their chests, and Taehyung pulls away, pulling out and flopping onto his back next to Jimin.

They lay there quietly, only a second or two passing before Jimin giggles lightly. “I won.”

Still letting his blood flow at a normal speed, Taehyung slowly turns to face Jimin. “Didn’t realize we were playing a game.”

Jimin giggles again. Taehyung doesn’t understand. It’s almost precious. “Can you turn the camera off for me? I don’t think I can move.”

Though Taehyung clicks his tongue, he still sits up. Jimin must still be in charge.

“And carry me to the shower!” he adds, plastering on a sickly sweet smile.

“Tch, why are we showering?” asks a very confused Taehyung. When Jimin mirrors back the same expression, Taehyung smiles sneakily. “Baby,” he drawls, tone deep and primal. “Did you think we were done? Put that hoodie back on and follow me.”

Now Jimin is the one to obey, sitting up and watching as Taehyung turns off the camera, staring through the lens as the red light goes off.

Jeongguk wakes with a start on Saturday morning, feeling well-rested after passing out at 11pm; quite the feat for a college student. Plus, the sun is shining through his window and really, who can ignore an obnoxious shining sun?

Speaking of shining suns…

Jeongguk feels at his nightstand, grabbing at his phone and rolling over to his side. He’s sure his boyfriend isn’t awake yet, always taking the opportunities to sleep in late. He still decides to leave a morning message, asking him when he’s coming over so he can figure out how much time he has until he’s bombarded with his crazy love.

The day is lazy, much to Jeongguk’s fortune. He parks himself on the couch after fixing a bowl of cereal, feeling his bones mold comfortably with the fabric and he knows he won’t have the energy to get up and put his bowl in the sink (that is what boyfriends are for).

And soon his laptop is pulled onto his legs, the white noise of the television filling in the empty air as he mindlessly goes through social media. He almost misses the Instant Message that pops up on his screen, saying it's from a number he didn’t even remember he still had: Park Jimin

Jeongguk contemplates leaving it unread, but it doesn’t seem to be one he can get away with reading whatever comes up in the notification because it’s a video.

Their friendship hadn’t lasted all that long, Jeongguk befriending the elder male in his first level hip hop class when he was just a freshman. He’d seemed nice enough, tolerant, eager to help him whenever he needed help. The thing was that Jimin was already pretty much classically trained, having gone to performing arts schools and studying modern dance for most of his life. He’d just signed up for the class to get a taste of the “other side” as Jimin had put it.

But not a month later, Jimin had set up a time to hang out with both Jeongguk and Jimin’s stunning friend from his calc class. Kim Taehyung was something out of a high fashion magazine, effortlessly beautiful and unique. Jeongguk had hoped he hadn’t seemed so smitten after just one meeting, but Taehyung will admit that he could tell the moment they had parted ways.

And Jeongguk remembers when he told Jimin that he and Taehyung were going on a date another month after that, the way Jimin tripped over his own feet and sputtered like a fish out of water. Jeongguk would have been lying if he didn’t mention that he noticed the way Jimin spoke of Taehyung, how Jeongguk noticed the way he’d bodily throw himself into the taller man’s arms when he laughed or how he’d always find a reason to whisper in his ear. Jeongguk may have been young, but he was not so oblivious. Jimin had a thing for Taehyung, and if the night went right (which, obviously, it did), Jeongguk would be the one holding Taehyung’s hand and hiding his hickies (or not trying at all) from the public eye.

That is where the friendship of Jeon Jeongguk and Park Jimin ended.

So, he’s quite surprised when he sees the bubble appear with Jimin’s admittedly handsome face.

Ignoring his better judgement, Jeongguk clicks open the chat, noting how it says they haven’t spoken in over one and a half years. The thumbnail of the video is pretty hard to decipher, but he thinks it’s Jimin, laying on his bed. He presses play.

The video starts out simply, Jimin walking back and forth in front of the camera before sitting heavily at the foot of his bed, then fall back with his arms splayed out.

“Jeonggukie, I’ve been hooking up with this guy...he’s the best I ever had.” His voice sounds airy, happy, and Jeongguk is left only slightly confused. Yes, that would explain the times Jimin has came to class with bruises all over his neck (and sometimes on his thighs, if he hiked his shorts up high enough). But why would Jeongguk care?

Jeongguk hears him moan, “So good…” and really, Jeongguk is about to pause it and just message Jimin when he sees the subject sit up, a tight grin on his face. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

Jeongguk almost expects Hoseok, one of their TA’s, because they had both speculated the older man’s sexuality, and maybe Jimin was trying to find a way to make up with the younger...funny way of doing it, but who is Jeongguk to judge?

Intrigued, Jeongguk continues watching as there’s the faintest knock at Jimin’s door. He’s gone for about half a minute or so, the time stamp reads out. And when he comes back in, Jeongguk’s heart drops to his stomach, probably trying to drag himself to hell. It’s not Jung Hoseok.

But his boyfriend.

Kim Fucking Taehyung.

No. No this can’t be real. Jeongguk wants to stop watching, doesn’t want to see it all unfold, but it’s like a trainwreck that he can’t take his eyes off of.

It’s when Taehyung has Jimin pinned to the bed that Jeongguk’s vision goes blurry, and he’s almost thankful for the tears the obstruct his vision because his boyfriend, his love, his Taehyung...has been lying to him.

His eyes are glued to the scene, so he doesn’t notice when Taehyung sends him a message that he’s heading up to his apartment. He doesn’t notice until the front door opens, and he finally tears his eyes away from the monstrosity in front of him to see the perpetrator, standing there with the same black hoodie Jimin had started the video wearing, holding a plastic bag of almond cookies.

The room is silent, safe for the video that plays.

“I won.”

A/N: Whew boy. I would say I’m sorry but a very tiny part of me feels bad. Actually some pretty good discussions happened in the comments of the AO3 posting. Any feedback is always welcomed ^-^

#bts #bts smut #taekook #vmin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #park jimin #bts scenarios #bangtan

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10. Revolutionist x Monarch’s Guards AU.

@fromgallowsandgraves

Kveta and Adam

Men, women, and children werefighting off illnesses, starvation, and thirst while the king, in all hisdespotism, sat upon his throne indulging his insatiable greed. There was nomoney. The king had taken all of that in the form of taxes. And there was nofood. A drought had ravished the harvest and what little was left had beenrationed out, but the queues for such were long and by the time one approachedthe counter there was hardly anything but crumbs to be seen. Desperation had set in. Thecity was falling into despair and those left were faced with impossiblesituations. Many stole, or worse, murdered, for the smallest of morsels to feedtheir children while they, themselves, went without.

Riots had begun to spring forthlike wildfires around the kingdom. Not that it surprised Kveta. Even she,someone who had grown up without a home, or food, and had to scavenge all herlife, knew that it wouldn’t be long before the people rose up to overthrowtheir king. The momentum was spreading. And while it was hidden, the girl hadbranded herself with a mark of the revolution. She believed in a better future. She had to. Surviving was not a way to live. And so, she had agreed to search the castle walls for a weak spot. All fortresses had them. It was just figuring out where and how to exploit it.

Quietly the cloaked girl scouted around the skirts of the wall. Her footing, while sure, led her along the edge of a rocky precipice which fell several feet down into a river. It was just wide enough for one man to walk abreast, but no more. If the revolutionaries were going to be successful, they were going to need to be stealthy and organized. 

Tearing her gaze away from the edge of the cliff, Kveta continued until she found it. Just on the North-Eastern side of the wall she found a small place where the guard towers could not see. Golden hues glanced around before scaling the tree just opposite of the wall. She was glad she was small because she wasn’t sure how much weight these branches could hold. Certainly not a full grown man, but her?? 

Kveta held her breath as she edged towards the wall along the shaking branch. And carefully, oh so carefully, she managed to step onto the wall, thankful for its thickness. 

Standing there, hands on her hips, she wore a wide smile. She had done it! She had scaled the wall without alerting anyone of her presence. Even if the men couldn’t walk out on the branches as she had done, it would be easy enough for her, or someone else, to climb up and tie a rope around the thicker branches so that they could brace themselves against the wall. 

Which is exactly what she did now, throwing the rope over the side and within minutes she had scaled back down on to sturdy ground. Only, she was now safely inside the walls. Quickly and quietly she paced through the dusky night time land towards the servant’squarters.

She would have had to have been afool if she were to think she could waltz in through the front door of thecastle. But the back door? The servants’ quarters were hardly protected. There weren’tenough guards to watch over them. Not when the King was far more concerned withhis people bursting through in a riotous mob with pitchforks and torches. Which…was actually quite a likely scenario…

Kveta had already finished the scouting job set out for her, but it seemed like such a waste to let the King keep his entire hoarde of food....And so she found herselfsneaking into the kitchen to stuff her pockets with anything she could find—anylittle bits she could take back to share with the other street urchins. No one was looking out for them... 

However, as she headed back outside, pockets laden with scraps of meat, bread, cheeses, pastries, and fruits, she found herself face to face with the largest of all the guards. Golden hues widened and she scampered back. This man was tall-- taller than anyone she had ever met. She had heard rumors of a giant and a monster protecting the King, but she hadn’t believed them. Was this who everyone had been talking about?? 

She glanced past him... How far could she get if she ran? Probably not very far.... 

“Wha’chyew gunna do?” She glanced back up at him, almost challenging him to take her in for stealing.