#they are out of character ye. I’m sleepy and I’m making their escape au up as I go.

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | seventeen

🐴Chapter summary: Taehyung tries his best to fit in on the ranch, and you and Jimin visit a second hand shop to get decor for your rebuilt ranch. But something happens on the way home that will alter your future together.

🐴Chapter title: Love of Your Life

🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc

🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters.

🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst

🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

🐴Chapter warnings: explicit smut in the form of unprotected sex, nipple play, spanking, dirty/sweet talk, multiple orgasms, praise kink, marking, biting, back scratching, hair pulling, crying, rain, like a loooot of rain (yes this is a warning and you will understand later), melancholy, happy tears, promises and confessions.

🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!)

🐴Word count: 13.3k

🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld, @antisocial-mochi267,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “All I See” by Kate Voegele. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?]

🐴Author’s note: welcome to sunshine and rainbows!!!!! Finally! All the angst is gone, and it’s time to bask in all the love and glory ☀️ This was so fun for me to write, I’ve honestly been excited to write this chapter FOR MONTHS. So I’m so happy with it, I love it 😭 I really hope you do too— please let me know 💜

You can send in your questions for the characters or me here → Ask away 💜*

*for people on AO3 you can also participate if you want to, just leave a comment (guest/anon or not), and I’ll reply to that and I’ll add your question in the Epilogue💜

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.Wanna see the book cover?

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“Your touch is softAnd it makes me trembleIn your armsIt feels so right” ‘Trust the Night’ by Rebecca Lavelle

You gently straddle Jimin’s slumbering figure, leaning close to his ear as you murmur softly, “Jimin, my love, wake up.”

You hear him emit a soft groan beneath you, prompting you to press your needy core against his crotch, causing a shiver to run down his spine as a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

As he gradually emerges from his slumber, his expression carries a drowsy allure, a mix of exhaustion and irresistible charm. His tousled blonde locks frame his face in disarray, accentuating his soft, almost angelic features. With a gentle flutter, his eyelashes part, revealing the depth of his sleepy gaze, stirring a whirlwind of butterflies within your stomach.

He shifts beneath you, your thighs snugly framing his sturdy body, and he grumbles softly, his voice laced with the remnants of sleep. “What’s wrong, love?” He drawls, his words slow and husky, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine.

His teeth graze his lower lip, a subtle gesture that sends a surge of desire coursing through you as you feel his dick harden against your folds. You rock against him, craving the delicious friction, and a low groan escapes his lips. Though he’s still tired and not fully awake, his body instinctively responds to your rhythm, his arousal evident despite his drowsiness.

“I want you babe, so bad,” you murmur huskily into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. He chuckles in response, his chest rising and falling beneath your hands.

With a playful smirk, he finally opens his eyes fully, the warmth in them sending shivers down your spine. His hands wander to the curve of your hips, drawing you closer as he teases, “Needy, huh?” His grip tightens, pulling you into him with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

His playful tone dances in the air as he teases, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “You’re not wearing panties?” He asks, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. His gaze drifts lower, down to where your pussy grinds over him, and he grins knowingly. “And you’re already dripping. Did you have a wet dream?” He adds with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow, his voice laced with playful temptation.

You grind down on him again, your voice is high, almost airy and incredibly needy, “I did.” You confess as you drag out the words in the rhythm of your movements as you drag your slick pussy over him, his dick teasing your folds. Each friction sends electric pulses through your body, leaving you yearning for more of him, oh God, you’ll never get enough of his dick.

“Then help yourself,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire, as he intertwines his fingers behind his head, accentuating the grace of his muscular frame. Your eyes roam hungrily over his form, captivated by the effortless allure he exudes. With a soft, inviting smile, he reclines on the bed, the epitome of relaxed confidence, beckoning you closer with an inviting gesture. Caught in the magnetic pull of his gaze, you hesitate for a moment, questioning him with wide eyes.

You’re so needy, the lust coursing through your veins like a tidal wave— the memory of your dream, where he took you from behind with your face shoved down into the sheets has left you dripping. With a needy whimper, you realize that he’s serious. He really wants you to just do everything yourself and simply take him like that. Somehow that thought alone makes you even wetter, and you finally begin to move your body, just a bit off him, so you can grab his boxers and slide them down his powerful thighs.

With a throaty chuckle, he watches as you rid him of the garment, tossing it aside with theatrical flair. His laughter fills the room, a symphony of desire harmonizing with your own as you sweep the duvet aside, to make more space for you.

You straddle him once more, a low moan escaping your lips as his unclothed dick comes in contact with your slippery pussy, sending electric tingles through your body. The sensation alone is intoxicating, but you crave more, yearning for the fullness only he can provide. You want all of him lodged deep inside you. Fuck. With a suppressed curse, you bite down on your lip, gradually lifting your body, aligning your throbbing pussy with his dick.

You grab his cock, lowering yourself onto him with tantalizing slowness, a gasp escaping your lips as he stretches you deliciously wide. Each inch of him sliding inside sends shivers of ecstasy coursing through your veins. You love this feeling, being filled like this by him— you can never get enough of it. With each deliberate movement, you moan softly, relishing every moment, wanting to etch it into memory. As you finally cast your gaze upon him, his expression is a portrait of pure bliss, his features sculpted by pleasure. His lips part in silent rapture, his eyes, though almost closed, fixated on you, drinking in every detail, every nuance of your body.

You finally meet his skin at the base, your bodies melding in a primal embrace, taking in every inch of his girthy cock. “Jimin,” you exhale, the name a reverent whisper as you rest your hands upon his chest, seeking stability amidst the whirlwind of sensation. For a heartbeat, you simply remain still, savoring the electric lust between you, and you catch the playful glint in his eyes, a knowing smirk dancing upon his lips.

“You wanted to fuck me, then get to work love and show me what you’ve got,” he teases, his voice dripping with desire and a hint of mischief. He reclines leisurely, every line of his body exuding anticipation, silently urging you to take the lead and unleash your passion upon him.

You groan deeply, a surge of arousal flooding through your core, as you slowly lift your hips and then lower them again, each movement accompanied by a fervent moan. The sensation of him filling you so completely ignites an inferno of pleasure within your depths, leaving you intoxicated with desire.

You establish a deliberate rhythm, each movement a tantalizing dance upon his incredible dick. Jimin’s unwavering gaze follows your every motion, and though you’ve shared such intimate moments countless times, the intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, igniting a blush that spreads like wildfire across your skin. Maybe it’s the raw vulnerability of this position or the newfound sense of empowerment that leaves you feeling exposed, but as you surrender to the ecstasy and lust, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Fuck, babe, you look absolutely stunning riding me like this,” he pants, his voice thick with desire. His hands, which had been idly resting behind his head, suddenly find purchase on your hips, fingers digging into the supple flesh with a satisfying slap. “And the way you’re taking me, fuck, it’s like you were made for this,” he groans, his arousal evident in every word.

“Get that shirt off,” he commands, his voice low and urgent, the desire evident in his tone. “I need to see those gorgeous tits of yours.” His hands grip the hem of your nightshirt, which is actually one of his, and he pulls it upward with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine. You’ve taken to wearing his shirts to bed, finding comfort in their familiar scent, a constant reminder of him even when right next to you.

You comply eagerly, crossing your arms and grasping the fabric of the shirt tightly. With a swift motion, you peel it off your body, revealing your breasts, their gentle sway drawing Jimin’s gaze like a magnet. His hands tighten on your ass, his touch electric against your skin as he hungrily takes in the sight before him, a hunger burning in his eyes.

Your hair cascades around your face like a veil as you continue to ride him at a leisurely pace, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, each one laced with anticipation. Despite the blissful sensation washing over you, a primal urge begins to stir within, urging you to quicken your pace, to chase that elusive peak of ecstasy that awaits you.

With a surge of desire coursing through you, you amplify the rhythm of your movements, grinding your hips against his throbbing dick. Yet, despite the primal intensity of the moment, Jimin’s hands rest on your hips without guiding or directing you; you’re in complete control.

God you love this— you enjoy being in control like this, but you equally love it when he just rams himself into you uncontrollably, or when his touch is slow and tender. Fuck, you love it all. It’s the entirety of his essence, the fierce intensity, the tender intimacy, that leaves you utterly enraptured.

You continue to ride him with fervor, each bounce driving you deeper onto his dick until you can feel the delicious pressure of his balls against your ass.

Every sensation is heightened, every movement sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins. You arch your back, seeking the perfect angle to hit your g-spot, and when you finally find it, it’s like fireworks exploding behind your eyelids, your entire body alight with the ecstasy of his touch.

As you pant for air and moan, the exertion of maintaining the pace begins to take its toll. You gradually slow down, but compensate by riding him deeper, each thrust driving his cock to graze your sensitive spot with even more intensity.

Your fingers tremble on his chest, a silent plea for him to reciprocate the intensity coursing through your body. Biting your bottom lip, you observe his nonchalant expression, seemingly unaffected by the passionate dance unfolding between you. Despite the beads of sweat forming on your brow, there’s not a drop to be seen on his honey-kissed skin. Exhaustion begins to creep in, weighing heavy on your limbs, but driven by the mounting arousal coiling in the pit of your stomach, you press on. You’re on a relentless mission to chase down your orgasm, every movement calculated to edge you closer to that elusive climax.

“Are you close, love?” He teases, his voice laced with playful anticipation, punctuated by a chuckle that dances through the air like a mischievous melody.

You nod eagerly, your breath hitching as you admit, “I am. But I need you,” each word punctuated by the rhythm of your body moving sinuously up and down his throbbing dick.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not doing anything or helping you,” he quips, his teasing tone sending a shiver down your spine.

“But I need you. I need your hands on my boobs,” you plead, your voice tinged with desperation as you teeter on the brink of release— you just need that little thing to push you over the edge. “Please,” you implore, leaning into him, your boobs pressing against his chest. “Just touch my tits, please.”

You observe him closely, noting the flicker of conflict in his eyes as he wrestles with the decision. His brow furrows in silent contemplation, betraying the inner turmoil he’s experiencing. You recognize that familiar crease of indecision on his forehead, a telltale sign that he’s grappling with his resolve. You know all too well that he always has a hard time saying no to you, his resistance crumbling under the weight of your persuasive plea.

With a decisive grunt, his hands abandon their hold on your hips, embarking on a tantalizing journey toward your awaiting breasts. His touch ignites a fiery anticipation within you, each caress a promise of impending ecstasy. “Fine,” he concedes with a playful lilt in his voice, “I’ll help you.”

As his fingers encircle your taut nipples, a wave of intense pleasure courses through you, eliciting a passionate cry of his name. “Thank you,” you exclaim with a breathless fervor, gratitude and desire intertwining in your voice.

You ride him with fervent abandon, as he skillfully toys with your breasts, his fingers teasing and tantalizing your hardened peaks. Each tug and caress sends electric currents of arousal pulsating through your entire being.

“Shit, Jimin,” you gasp, your voice strained with lust, feeling the tension within you building to its breaking point. Despite the exhaustion and the trembling in your thighs, you refuse to relent, driven by an insatiable desire to reach the peak of pleasure. “I’m coming,” you moan, the words escaping in a fervent declaration of impending release. As the wave of orgasm crashes over you, your body tenses, and you feel every muscle contract around his throbbing dick, your essence flooding over him in a torrent of blissful surrender, painting his cock with your essence that trails all the way down to his balls.

His fingers tighten around your breasts, eliciting a shiver of pleasure as he watches you unravel in ecstasy. “Fuck, you’re stunning when you come,” he breathes, his voice laced with awe and desire, his eyes tracing every quiver and tremble of your body as you succumb to the overwhelming waves of pleasure.

You collapse against him, feeling his dick still pulsing within you, aching for release. With exhaustion clouding your senses, you gaze down at him, your voice soft and pleading. “Jimin, can you... take over and fuck me?” you ask, your words a gentle plea. “I want you to finish too, but I’m... so tired. My thighs... They are so sore.”

He chuckles, a knowing gleam in his eyes that tells you he anticipated this moment. His hands, familiar and possessive, return to your ass, and with a swift motion, he delivers a playful spank, reigniting the flames of arousal coursing through your veins. 

“Can’t fuck yourself on me anymore?” He teases, his voice laced with desire, as you feel his dick twitch inside you.

“I want to, but my thighs,” you plead with him, your touch grazing over his chest, tracing the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

With a sudden fluidity, he wraps his arms around your back, effortlessly flipping you both around, leaving you wide-eyed as you find yourself beneath him, him over you, his dick still nestled inside your pussy. His face hovers above yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he presses down, his warm breath brushing against your skin. “You want me to finish what you started?” He murmurs, his voice laced with desire and mischief.

His voice drips with a potent mix of danger and desire, its weight hanging heavy in the air, sending tantalizing shivers cascading down your spine.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, you’re begging for it?” He taunts once more, his voice laden with desire as he presses his dick deeper inside you. Fuck, you just want him to move, for him to fuck you so good.

Your desperation mounts, compelling you to plead with him once more, your voice raw with need as he remains motionless within you. “Jimin, please,” you implore, your urgency palpable, “I need you to fuck me, now. Please.”

With a primal hunger, he descends upon your neck, his kisses igniting a fire within you, his bite both painful and intoxicating, but he soothes it with his breath. As he moves upward, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “Oh, I’ll fuck you until you can’t think straight, love. So you can finally rest those gorgeous thighs of yours.”

As he finally starts to move within you, every thrust feels like a divine revelation. You can’t help but moan at the sheer ecstasy coursing through your body, each sensation more intoxicating than the last. Damn, it’s beyond good.

He establishes a rhythm that’s slow yet intense, each thrust penetrating you so deep it’s enough to ignite fireworks in your mind.

“Yes, Jimin, right there!” You cry out, his precise thrusts hitting you in all the perfect spots, his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of sensations that electrify your entire being. You can feel your pussy tightening with each movement, his bites sending a delicious shiver down your spine. You just know he’s leaving marks on your skin again, but fuck, you both love that.

“You just love my cock so much, you can never get enough of it?” He bends down and whispers in your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine, so much so that you can feel how all the hairs over your body raise in anticipation. You moan in pleasure, as your hands travel to his back, where your nails dig into his honey-kissed skin.

“Yes,” you moan, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through you, “I love your cock, can’t get enough of it, or you.” Your words are punctuated by the exquisite sensations of his deep and slow thrusts, making you feel so close to another orgasm.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs huskily, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine, “can’t get enough of you or your pussy either.” His lips find solace on your neck once more, teasingly nibbling and sucking on your skin, igniting a wildfire of sensations within you.

And then it hits you like a tidal wave, that electrifying surge as the coil inside you snaps and your entire being is engulfed in the ecstasy of another orgasm. Your pussy clenches frantically around his dick, milking him with every pulsating wave of pleasure. You’re lost in a symphony of moans and pants, his relentless thrusts fueling the fire as he continues to kiss and nibble at your neck, amplifying the sensation to unimaginable heights.

“Fuck,” you moan, every syllable a testament to the whirlwind of lust swirling within you, enveloping you in a delicious haze of pleasure. In this moment, you feel utterly consumed, every fiber of your being vibrating with a primal satisfaction, as if you couldn't possibly contain all the desire coursing through your veins.

Jimin leans up, his gaze a fiery fusion of love and raw desire, igniting an inferno of longing within you. With a tender yet commanding touch, he lifts one of your legs, cradling it against his body, before repeating the motion with the other, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. As he leans closer down to you, you feel how sore your thighs really are, as he stretches them out for you in the process, and then, he quickens his pace, fucking you faster than before.

You’re swept away in a whirlwind of sensation, barely able to catch your breath as he relentlessly drives you to the brink and beyond. With each thrust, he propels you further into the depths of ecstasy, seamlessly transitioning from one climax to the next, until you’re consumed by a tidal wave of pleasure, threatening to wash over you.

Jimin’s primal groans fill the air, mixing with the rhythmic symphony of skin on skin as he drives into you with unrestrained intensity. His face, a canvas of raw pleasure, tells a story of desire as he relentlessly pounds into you. With each thrust, the bed creaks beneath you, and your hands grips the sheets tightly as you surrender to the lust running through your veins.

You sense his impending release in the ferocity of his thrusts, each one driving you closer to the edge. Your own climax builds, a tidal wave of pleasure gathering strength with each movement. The intensity of the moment ignites a fire within you, burning hotter and more fiercely than ever before.

Every fiber of your being is ablaze with ecstasy as you lock eyes with Jimin, his hazel eyes a mesmerizing blend of desire and devotion. With ragged breaths, you confess, “Fuck, Jimin. I’m gonna come again.”

As beads of sweat finally cascade down his glistening body, a few droplets find their way onto your chest, trickling sensually between your breasts. His demeanor, a mix of intensity and restraint, is nothing short of sinful. His brows knit together, lips caught between his teeth, and as he inches closer to the brink of ecstasy his nose begins to scrunch, and you find yourself captivated by his raw, primal allure. It’s a sight you relish, a testament to the intoxicating power he holds over you.

His voice, ragged and urgent, cuts through the air like a primal plea. “Fuck, yeah, come again, before me, babe,” he urges, the words tumbling from his lips in a breathless rush. You can sense the urgency in his tone, a desperate need for release that mirrors your own. He’s held back his own climax for what feels like an eternity, and now, he’s almost there.

As he thrusts deeply into your pulsating pussy, you surrender to another wave of pleasure, your essence surging around him like a wild, untamed force. The world around you blurs as your senses are consumed by ecstasy, your vision dimming at the edges— you feel so gone. With a shuddering sigh, you close your eyes, savoring every electrifying sensation of him buried deep within you.

“Fuck, love,” he pants, his fingers digging into your thighs as he plunges deeper, his rhythm slowing as he approaches his climax. With bated breath, you watch his expression intensify, his eyes fluttering shut, his nose scrunching in that adorable way you love. A guttural moan escapes his parted lips, your name a whispered mantra on his tongue. The sight of his release nearly overwhelms you, a surge of desire igniting within you, tempting you to join him in another orgasm.

He fills you up with his warm seed, his movements still gentle yet purposeful, blending your fluids together in a passionate fusion. You’re certain most of it trickles out, staining the sheets below, but at this moment, neither of you gives it a second thought. The sheets can be washed later anyway.

He gasps for precious air, his fingers threading through his tousled locks, his lip caught between his teeth in a display of post-climax bliss. As his gaze meets yours, you see the raw emotion there, an unspoken language of love that binds you together, stronger than ever before.

“Good morning, my love,” he murmurs, releasing your legs to slide gently down the sides of his body. Leaning in, he presses a tender kiss to your lips, igniting a warmth that spreads from your mouth to your fingertips.

You thread your fingers through his tousled hair, playfully tugging at the strands, and as you release, you meet his gaze with a tender smile. “Good morning,” you whisper, your voice carrying the warmth of a new day and the promise of endless affection.

He settles his weight atop you, his presence a comforting weight against your skin, and you revel in the sensation of his warmth enveloping you. Despite the softening of his dick inside you, you relish the intimacy, content to stay intertwined in each other’s embrace for what feels like an eternity. Time seems to melt away in the blissful haze of the moment, where nothing else matters except the connection between your bodies.

“We really should get up,” Jimin chuckles as he reluctantly lifts himself from your body. You emit a groan of protest, the thought of spending the entire day wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms, fucking each other the whole day is tempting you to stay in bed indefinitely.

He withdraws from you, and you can sense the trickle of liquid escaping your pussy, coursing down your ass and staining the sheets beneath you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean you up,” Jimin assures you, swiftly donning his boxers before darting downstairs to the bathroom, his footsteps echoing in the silent house.

He returns with a handful of washcloths, his presence comforting as he approaches your side. Gently, he parts your legs with his hands, his touch igniting a delicate warmth that courses through your body. As he presses the warm washcloth to your sensitive pussy, a shiver dances up your spine, eliciting soft mewls of pleasure. With careful precision, he begins to cleanse away the remnants of your passion, his attentive ministrations a soothing balm to your senses.

He descends eagerly, his lips tracing a path along your inner thigh as the warm washcloth glides over your sensitive flesh. A surge of anticipation courses through you, the proximity of his tantalizing lips to your core igniting a primal desire deep within. With each tender kiss, you can feel the intensity building, another wave of ecstasy threatening to consume you as his dangerous lips draw nearer to your pussy.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to contain the electric tremors racing through your body. There’s an inexplicable tension, an ache building deep within you at the mere sensation of his lips caressing your thighs. With every delicate kiss, it’s as if fireworks explode beneath your skin, igniting a fierce yearning that threatens to consume you whole. Your breath quickens, anticipation mounting as your pussy tightens in desperate anticipation. Yet, he deliberately avoids your most sensitive spot, his lips trailing to the other thigh, bestowing the same tender devotion with each fleeting touch.

Fuck. Could you come with just those tender kisses on your thighs and the damn washcloth teasing your core?

Oh god, you’re craving his touch on your pussy— it’s insane. Yearning for that final release, because it’s right there, tantalizingly close, and you’re already so worked up, knowing it wouldn’t take much to push you over the edge.

“Jimin,” you groan, urgency lacing your voice as you grab his hair, pulling him towards your throbbing pussy, and pressing his face down into your quivering folds.

“Make me come again,” you pant and plead, your voice trembling with an insatiable hunger for release.

He doesn’t need to be told twice; you feel the warmth of his tongue on your folds, savoring every lingering drop of your essence. Then, he ascends towards your clit, sucking on it with fervor, causing you to arch your back and lose yourself in the sensation. Your head falls back into the sheets, your body writhing with ecstasy as you grind your hips into his eager mouth.

Your fingers grip his hair tighter, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, and your voice forms a rhythmic chant of his name, interspersed with moans that echo through the room. Every sensation heightens, your body tingling with anticipation, toes curling involuntarily as you teeter on the edge of euphoria.

His teeth graze your sensitive nub, sending electric waves of pleasure through your body, and as he sucks on it, you feel yourself unraveling, like putty in his hands. A flood of your essence pours out, your body convulsing with ecstasy, fingers clenching in his hair as you cry out his name. Your hips buck uncontrollably as you reach the peak, and he expertly licks up every drop of your essence.

He keeps sucking until you’re dry, until every last drop of your essence is consumed, leaving only the lingering traces of his saliva glistening on your skin.

You tug on his hair, urging him up to your face. Flustered and panting for air, you’re consumed by the desire to kiss him. Pulling him close, you press your lips against his, a passionate exchange that tastes of your essence mingled with his, a heady blend you don’t mind.

As you part for air, you draw him into a warm embrace, molding his body against yours. Soft giggles escape Jimin’s lips, his affectionate words filling the air, “I love waking up like this, you know,” his voice brimming with adoration.

Taehyung stands out like a vibrant splash of color against the rustic backdrop of the ranch, but he’s determined to blend in as seamlessly as possible.

Jimin and Jungkook reluctantly agree to let him stay in one of the smaller guest houses, swayed by Taehyung’s persistent desire to reconnect with his brothers and catch up on lost time. However, a shadow of doubt looms over Jimin’s mind, a residue of skepticism lingering from the Deiji debacle. Despite Taehyung's assurances, Jimin remains cautious, his trust not easily earned after the betrayal he’s endured. Yet, Taehyung’s unwavering determination and the solid proof he provides gradually chip away at Jimin’s reservations, paving the way for a tentative reconciliation.

However, you can’t deny that tensions are running high, especially with Bell Ranch overflowing with people while your own ranch is still under reconstruction—though it’s nearing completion. It’s a bittersweet anticipation, a mix of excitement for the new beginning and reluctance to leave behind the life you’ve built with your boyfriend, which you cherish dearly.

Today is bustling with activity as everyone pitches in to shear the sheep. Amidst the flurry of tasks, you’ve made a mental note to seize the opportunity to interrogate Taehyung about his true intentions for staying. After all, you’ve learned the hard way that vigilance is paramount, and you refuse to let your guard down again.

Jimin sidles up to you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, his arms encircling your frame as he rests his head on your shoulder. “Ready to shear some sheep, babe?” He murmurs, his voice filled with affection and anticipation for the day ahead.

You chuckle softly as his hair tickles your neck, savoring the intimate moment as you lean into his embrace. “I was actually thinking that Taehyung and I could handle sorting the wool,” you suggest, your voice carrying a hint of determination. “It’ll give me a chance to have a chat with him.”

Jimin gently guides your body to face him, his expression tinged with curiosity. “Are you planning to interrogate him?” He inquires, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and concern.

You let out a scoff, rolling your eyes in jest, but a playful smile graces your lips as you meet your boyfriend’s gaze. “Yes, someone has to get to the bottom of things,” you retort, your determination shining through.

He nods in understanding, and you find solace in his agreement, grateful that he doesn’t resist your decision. Not that he typically would, but after everything you’ve weathered together recently, it feels reassuring to approach things with a heightened sense of awareness and scrutiny.

As Jungkook and your sister step into the shearing shed, you greet them with a cheerful wave and a warm smile, grateful for their presence amidst the bustling activity.

“Shall we get to work?” Your sister’s voice rings out, punctuated by the sound of her stretching. Clad in a white tank top that seems to repel the relentless heat, she’s ready for action, as is Jungkook beside her. You and Jimin match the attire, sporting fitted tank tops of your own, ready to tackle the tasks ahead with determination.

“We’re still waiting on the others,” you remark with a smile, your gaze drifting towards the wool sorting station. Just then, the door swings open, a cacophony of voices flooding the space, signaling the arrival of the rest of the crew.

Yoongi, Hoseok, Ha-rin, and Soo-ah saunter in, their laughter echoing joyously throughout the room. While you’re unsure of the source of their amusement, their infectious laughter is enough to brighten your spirits and elicit a genuine smile from you.

As Ara strides in alongside Taehyung, their hushed conversation catches your attention. Despite the serious undertone, there’s a glimmer of warmth in their eyes, and a hint of a smile plays on their lips. Intrigued by their demeanor, you can’t help but wonder about the topic of their discussion.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here,” Jungkook declares, his clipper in hand, “let’s get down to business.”

“Taehyung, join me at the wool sorting station,” you beckon, motioning for him to join you. With a soft smile gracing his lips, he strides over, ready to lend a hand.

“Jimin, Hobi, Yoongi, and I will tackle the shearing,” Jungkook announces, a wide grin lighting up his face. “The rest of you ladies can lend a hand by rounding up the sheep for us.”

“What? I wanna shear sheep too,” your sister protests, her arms crossing defiantly beneath her chest, a playful pout adorning her face.

“And I’m not in the mood for shearing either. How about we switch?” Yoongi suggests with a smirk, eliciting a grin from your sister. You catch Jungkook rolling his eyes at the exchange, a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

With everyone settled into their roles, you dive into the tasks at hand. The rhythmic hum of clippers fills the shed, accompanied by the gentle rustle of wool and the occasional laughter echoing off the walls. As the temperature rises, beads of sweat form on your brow, your tank top clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Sorting through the wool handed to you by either Yoongi, Ara, Soo-ah, or Ha-rin, you work diligently, the camaraderie of the moment overshadowing the discomfort of the heat.

Yoongi strides over, arms laden with wool, and deposits it onto the table with a resounding thud. “Here you go,” he declares, his voice tinged with determination as he joins you and Taehyung in inspecting the fibers for any imperfections that could downgrade its quality.

“Thanks, Yoon,” you offer with a grateful smile, appreciating his contribution before he swiftly turns back to the task at hand, disappearing into the flurry of activity as he assists in gathering more sheep.

Turning his gaze towards you, Taehyung’s curiosity piques. “You’re from the city too, aren’t you?” He inquires, a hint of intrigue lacing his words.

You offer him a warm smile, pausing your inspection of the wool to meet his gaze. “I spent my childhood here. But yes, I’ve mostly lived in the city,” you explain. “What about you? What’s your reason for wanting to reside in the middle of nowhere?”

His grin widens, a boxy and infectious smile lighting up his features as laughter dances in his eyes. In that moment, you find him utterly endearing. “I’m just craving a change of scenery,” he admits, his voice tinged with longing. “Something slower, calmer, and more peaceful.”

“Ah, yeah I get that. Everything’s more calm out here surrounded by nature, all the greens and the mountains,” you remark, your smile reflecting the tranquility of the landscape. Returning your attention to the wool, you scrutinize it meticulously, determined to ensure its perfection. After all, securing the highest classification means fetching the best prices—a goal you’re committed to achieving.

“And I also want to get to know my brothers better,” he adds, his voice carrying a weight of longing and earnestness.

You nod empathetically, grasping his sentiment. “So, did your mom just break the news to you?” You inquire, your curiosity piqued.

His nod is accompanied by a somber shift in his demeanor, a flicker of anger crossing his features as he clenches his teeth. “Yeah. I have a father—or a dad,” he corrects himself, bitterness seeping into his tone. “But now it turns out he’s not my biological one. My mom only found out recently when he was hospitalized and I offered to donate part of my liver. That’s when we discovered the truth—we’re not related.”

Your gasp echoes through the air, your eyes widening with a mixture of shock, horror, and empathy. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you murmur, your voice heavy with concern. “Is your dad okay now?”

He nods slowly, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. “Yeah, he’s alright now,” he confirms. “But it hit us like a ton of bricks. My mom had to revisit her past, all those guys she dated, trying to piece it together. And here we are,” he adds with a shrug, his pain palpable in the weight of his gaze.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” you offer sympathetically, briefly squeezing his arm in reassurance before returning to the task at hand. With determined focus, you gather the wool and feed it into the crushing machine, watching as it transforms into compacted bundles ready for bagging.

Taehyung trails after you, his voice tinged with gratitude. “Thanks. It’s okay. But,” he hesitates, leaning in closer over your shoulder, “How can I win them over? They don’t seem to warm up to me much.”

Your laughter rings out as you pivot, beckoning Taehyung to join you back at the table. “Just be genuine, kind, and humble,” you advise, meeting his gaze earnestly. “Jungkook and Jimin had their share of disagreements when they first discovered they were siblings. But genuine kindness can get you far.”

Your smile widens as Ara approaches with another batch of wool, her shy grin directed at Taehyung drawing a chuckle from you. It’s a rare sight to see Ara in such a bashful state.

“I just really want them to accept me,” Taehyung confesses, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his expression, his features taking on a slight pout.

“Then trust me, and stick with my advice,” you reassure him with a warm smile, conveying your confidence in his ability to win them over. Taehyung exudes genuine kindness, and you sense no ulterior motives in his intentions.

As you work, Jimin approaches from behind, his hands finding your hips and playfully trailing down to grasp your ass, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leans in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs softly, “Let’s take a break, my love.”

With a chuckle, you spin around to face him, your laughter fading as your lips meet his in a tender and affectionate kiss.

As the rest of the guys gather around the sorting table, Yoongi wastes no time heading for the cooler. “Anyone up for some water or maybe a cold beer?” he offers, casting a glance around the group.

“Feel like sharing a beer?” You suggest to Jimin, a playful glint in your eyes. His smile widens, and he nods eagerly, joining you at the cooler to fetch a cold one, while the others help themselves to either water or beer.

“How are you finding it here?” Hoseok inquires of Taehyung, taking a swig of his water, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

“It’s been cool so far. Just trying to get to know everyone,” Taehyung replies, his gaze sweeping across the group with genuine interest.

“I’d be happy to help with that,” Hoseok offers, his grin widening as his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm.

Hoseok’s playful finger-pointing game begins, and as he gestures to each person, a chorus of laughter fills the room. “Soo-ah’s the cute and funny one,” he declares with a grin, before moving on, “Ara’s the tall and orderly one.” 

His gaze sweeps the room, landing on each member in turn. “Ha-rin’s the sweet one who keeps us all fed,” he continues, and then he points to Yoongi, “Yoongi’s the sleepy but hard-working one—oh, and also, my boyfriend,” he adds with a chuckle. Finally, he turns to you, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And she’s pretty, but don’t get on her bad side; she’ll give you a piece of her mind.” Laughter erupts from the group, and you playfully roll your eyes as Jimin pulls you closer, his embrace warm and comforting, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

Hoseok continues with his introductions, his playful tone keeping everyone entertained. “And then there’s Jessi,” he says, a note of caution in his voice, “Never get on her bad side either, but deep down, she’s a sweetheart, a loyal friend.” 

His gaze shifts to you and Jimin, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “Next up, we have Jimin,” he says warmly, admiration evident in his tone, “Dedicated, kind, and sometimes too good for his own good.” Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he turns to Jungkook. 

“And of course, there’s Jungkook,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips, “Who tends to let his dick do the thinking for him.” Laughter ripples through the group as Jungkook playfully shoves Hoseok, earning a round of chuckles from everyone.

Laughter erupts once more, Jungkook’s protest drowned out by the jovial atmosphere. “Hey, I’ve changed my ways!” he insists, but your sister chimes in with a teasing grin, “It’s okay, Kook. Your dick is getting married to me soon.” Her playful remark earns a round of chuckles and good-natured teasing from the group.

Jessi saunters over to Jungkook, her steps purposeful, and plants a lingering kiss on his lips, a moment that seems to stretch into eternity. The group erupts into playful cat-calls and whistles, their cheers punctuating the affectionate display between the couple.

Hoseok interjects with a playful jab, his finger pointing towards Jungkook and your sister, who are locked in an embrace that borders on scandalous as they have begun to grind their bodies against each other. “And that’s precisely why we say he thinks with his dick. Too much PDA!” he quips, the lighthearted teasing drawing laughter from the group as they playfully rib the amorous couple.

“It really is a bit much,” you remark with a chuckle, stealing a glance at Jimin whose hand finds yours in a subtle display of affection. “At least we try to keep our PDA low-key around the others,” you add with a playful wink, eliciting a soft smile from Jimin as he squeezes your hand in agreement.

Yoongi huffs, his eyes rolling dramatically as he nurses his beer. “You two should just go get a room already,” he quips, the playful annoyance in his voice drawing laughter from the group as he nods toward your sister and Jungkook.

Yoongi chuckles deeply, his laughter infused with a hint of amusement. “That was pretty cool, babe, but also, very stereotypical casting for all of us,” he remarks, shooting a playful glance around the group. Hoseok joins him at his side, nodding in agreement with a grin.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok chuckles, his tone carrying a hint of mischief that matches the glint in his eyes. Yet, there's a warmth to his expression that makes his lack of apology forgivable. After all, his assessment of all of you wasn't entirely inaccurate.

“Thanks,” Taehyung replies with a genuine smile, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes as he acknowledges Hoseok’s words.

“We should get back to work,” Jimin suggests, his touch on your hip sending a familiar, comforting shiver down your spine, as it always does.

You all return to your tasks, you and Taehyung engaged in sorting the wool while sharing anecdotes about your childhoods and exchanging musings about life in the city.

Ha-rin approaches with a bundle of wool for sorting and sets it on the table before leaning in close to you, her expression carrying a sense of urgency. “I have something important to share with you,” she whispers.

You pivot toward her, your attention fully captured, while Taehyung focuses on the task of sorting the wool.

Ha-rin’s eyes sparkle with an unmistakable glow, maybe happiness or excitement, as her smile widens, and her cheeks flush with color. “Do you remember Seokjin?” she asks, her voice filled with anticipation.

You nod eagerly, a smile stretching across your face, encouraging Ha-rin to continue with her story.

“Well, We’re dating now!” She announces, her voice brimming with enthusiasm as she practically bounces with joy.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You exclaim, your voice filled with genuine excitement, as you pull her into your embrace for a tight hug.

“Who’s Seokjin?” Taehyung’s curious voice chimes in from behind you.

“Just my new boyfriend,” Ha-rin says with a proud voice, her eyes shimmering with new love, “You’ll meet him at the wedding.” 

“Cool,” Taehyung says with a smile as he goes back to sorting the wool with you, his movements fluid and purposeful as he assists in the process of crushing and bagging it. 

The rest of the day unfolds much the same, a symphony of shared labor and laughter, until the sun dips low in the sky, casting golden hues across the landscape. With evening approaching, the decision is made to take the festivities outdoors, firing up the barbecue on the terrace.

After weeks of anticipation and tireless efforts, the final touches have been put in place, completing the reconstruction of your beloved ranch. The delivery trucks have come and gone, leaving behind a treasure trove of furniture that now adorns your home. With the major pieces in place, your attention turns to the finer details — the trinkets, accents, and embellishments that will infuse warmth and personality into every corner of your space.

The rain beats relentlessly against the windshield, but Jimin’s presence beside you provides a comforting contrast to the gloomy weather outside. Despite the downpour making visibility scarce, your determination to find the perfect pieces for your home remains unwavering as you navigate through the storm into town, eager to explore the treasures waiting within the second-hand furniture store.

You both step out of Jimin’s truck, the sound of the rain intensifies, its rhythmic patter echoing through the streets. Jimin’s hand finds yours, fingers interlocking as if seeking solace in each other’s touch amidst the storm. Together, you brave the downpour, your clothes already drenched, yet the warmth of his hand in yours provides a shield against the chill of the rain.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, and Jimin’s gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting concern and affection. “Do you have a clear idea of what you’re looking for?” He inquires, his voice cutting through the sound of raindrops drumming against the pavement.

You pause for a moment, the weight of your loss heavy in your words, “I don’t really know. I suppose I’ll recognize it when I see it. It’s just... devastating, you know? All those irreplaceable things, gone in an instant.” The ache in your voice echoes the memories lost in the fire—photos of cherished moments, mementos of family and your shared history with Jimin. Yet, despite the devastation, there’s a glimmer of solace in your next words, “But we still have each other, and that’s what matters most.”

Jimin’s voice carries a tender reassurance, “I know, love. It’s not the same, but we can create new memories— together.” His hopeful smile glimmers through the rain as you reach the door of the store, promising a future woven with shared moments and fresh beginnings.

As he pushes open the door, you’re enveloped in the scent of old wood and nostalgia, a comforting embrace from the past. Inside, Jimin guides you through the aisles, where small lamps cast warm glows, paintings whisper tales of distant lands, and bedding invites dreams of serenity. Yet, amidst the array of treasures, nothing seems to call out to you, each item silent in its appeal.

You find yourself yearning for the familiarity of your old belongings, their absence casting a shadow over the task of replacement. Amidst the sea of options, uncertainty looms large, leaving you grappling with indecision as you navigate the aisles.

“Nothing here seems to resonate with me,” you grumble softly, feeling a sense of frustration as Jimin wraps his arm around you, offering silent support in the midst of your indecision.

“You don’t have to force it, love,” he says, his touch gentle as he strokes your arm, understanding the weight of the moment as you continue to wander among the aisles filled with relics of other people’s pasts, none of which seem to fit the future you’re trying to build for your home.

“I know, it’s just... I want my home to feel like mine again,” you admit, your voice carrying the weight of longing and a touch of anxiety. You can feel the restlessness creeping into your veins, a desperate desire to reclaim the sense of belonging that once filled every corner of your space. Even after the rebuilding was complete and you revisited, that familiar warmth seemed elusive, leaving you yearning for a sense of home that now feels like a distant memory.

“I understand. And if it helps, I have some old photos of us as kids. Maybe they’ll bring back some of that warmth,” he offers, his voice tender as he leans in to kiss your cheek. In that moment, flooded with memories and affection, your heart swells with love and a renewed sense of comfort.

“Thank you, my love,” you murmur, leaning into his warm touch, feeling a surge of gratitude for having him by your side, a constant source of comfort and support in your life.

“Shall we head back home, then?” he asks, gently tugging you towards the exit, his eyes filled with a tender reassurance that no matter where you go, as long as you’re together, it’s home.

“Yeah, let’s head back home,” you agree, following his lead out into the rain. The downpour has only intensified, each raindrop drumming a frantic rhythm on the pavement. You quicken your pace, darting towards his truck with eager steps, eager to escape the deluge and find refuge in the warmth of home.

You share a laugh, the sound mingling with the patter of rain around you, as you both sit there drenched, your hair plastered to your skin and raindrops trickling down your clothes like tiny rivers.

Jimin casually runs his hand through his bangs, a gesture so effortlessly captivating that it sends a shiver down your spine. There’s something undeniably enticing about the way his fingers tousle his hair, igniting a fire deep within your core.

With a satisfying rumble, Jimin turns the key in the ignition, awakening his truck from its slumber. The engine roars to life, echoing the thunderous rhythm of your hearts. As he deftly maneuvers the vehicle in reverse, the world outside the windshield blurs into streaks of rain, a symphony of droplets dancing against the glass. Soon, you’re back on the familiar path homeward, each turn of the wheel bringing you closer to the sanctuary of his home.

You gaze out the rain-streaked windows, the world outside a whirl of fleeting hues and misty raindrops. A pang of melancholy settles in your chest, a silent lament for the unfulfilled promise of finding pieces to restore the warmth of your home. Yet, amidst the downpour and the passing scenery, a glimmer of hope flickers within you. You cling to the belief that with time, dedication, and shared love, you can piece together the fragments of familiarity, stitching together a tapestry of comfort reminiscent of days gone by.

“It’s pouring buckets,” you remark, squinting through the rain that blurs the world beyond the windshield into an abstract watercolor.

“Yeah, it’s like driving on an ice rink out here,” Jimin mutters, his grip on the wheel tightening as the car skids slightly, prompting you to glance at him, relieved to find his attention still fixed on the road ahead.

Damn you hate driving in rainy weather— you know it takes so much focus and attention. Your muscles tensing with each unpredictable swerve of the car. Every moment feels like an eternity, your only wish for the storm to relent and let you reach your destination unscathed.

“Shit!” Jimin’s expletive slices through the tension as a deer darts across the road, forcing him to swerve sharply and the truck skids to a halt. Your heart lurches against the seatbelt, grateful for its hold as the truck jerks to a stop. With wide eyes, you glance at Jimin, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel, a symphony of muttered curses escaping his lips.

He presses down on the accelerator, but the wheels only spin uselessly, kicking up mud and gravel. 

Damn it, you’re stuck, aren’t you?

You turn to Jimin, your eyes widening in alarm. “Are we stuck?”

Jimin huffs, frustration evident as he runs a hand through his hair again. “I’m afraid we are.”

“At least the deer made it out okay,” he grunts in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah, great for the deer, but now we’re stranded,” you grumble, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, frustration settling in as rain pelts the chassis of the truck.

You release a frustrated huff as the reality of the situation sinks in. “What do we do now, Jimin?” You turn to him, concern etched in your eyes.

“We could try to push the truck back onto the road,” he suggests, his breath heavy with resignation.

You gape at him, disbelief etched across your face. “Why can’t we just call for help?”

He lets out a frustrated chuckle, the sound laced with tension. “It’ll take forever for help to arrive out here. We might as well give it a shot, see if we can push it out of the mud. If we can’t, then we’ll call for backup.”

“Fine,” you grunt, regretting not grabbing your raincoat before this impromptu adventure. Anger simmers beneath your skin, though you know it’s futile. Still, frustration pulses through your veins as you swing open the door and step out into the relentless rain, each drop feeling like a reminder of the day’s misfortune.

Jimin joins you, and together you march to the rear of the truck, determination etched on your faces as you brace yourselves against the heavy load. With gritted teeth and strained muscles, you throw your weight against it, but it remains stubbornly unmoved, resisting your efforts with an infuriating steadfastness.

“Jimin, have you even put it in neutral?” you demand, your patience wearing thin, the frustration evident in your tone as irritation simmers beneath the surface.

“Shit, I forgot that,” Jimin apologizes, rushing back to the driver’s seat to rectify his oversight and shift the gear into neutral. You can’t help but roll your eyes and emit a frustrated grunt. Forgetting such a crucial step isn’t exactly conducive to getting the truck unstuck, and you're feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

“Seriously, love,” you grumble, the frustration mounting within you like a tempest.

“Are you mad now?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity and concern.

“Yeah! I’m so frustrated that we’re in this situation at all!” you huff in anger, your voice resonating with frustration. You plant your hands firmly on the load at the back of the truck. “Help me push it.”

Jimin joins you, his expression apologetic as he understands your frustration. Despite his remorse, you’re determined to push the damn truck back on the road and get back home. The rain continues to soak you both, and while the weather isn’t freezing, you're aware that staying outside in wet clothes isn’t ideal.

You exert every ounce of strength to push the damn truck, but it remains stubbornly stuck in the mud. Your feet struggle for traction in the slippery terrain, and with a frustrated grunt, you lose your balance, landing with a heavy thud in the mire. Jimin, ever beside you, extends his hand, offering support in the midst of your muddy ordeal.

As you grip his hand, now coated in mud like the rest of you from your unplanned plunge, Jimin’s concern is palpable in his voice. “Are you alright?” He inquires, his eyes scanning you for any signs of injury amidst the muck.

Frustration boiling over, you unleash a torrent of emotion, your voice echoing in the rain-soaked air. “I hate this fucking truck!” You scream, the words carrying your exasperation and anger into the stormy air.

With a surge of frustration, you unleash a primal act of defiance, kicking the stubborn truck with all your might. Storming around to the passenger side, you yank open the door, then dive into the glove compartment, your hands fumbling desperately for anything to wipe the mud from your face.

In the heat of your fury, items tumble from the glove box, but you pay them no mind. Enveloped by anger, you allow the contents to spill onto the muddied ground, a chaotic symphony of frustration. Finally, your hand closes around a fabric, and as you draw it out, relief washes over you at the sight of the handkerchief clutched in your grasp.

“I’m so sorry, but there’s no reason to be mad,” Jimin’s voice breaks through your fury, gentle and soothing, yet you can’t shake off the bubbling anger as you tighten your grip around the cloth, your frustration simmering beneath the surface like a tempest ready to erupt.

“This is your fucking fault! If you hadn’t swerved to avoid that deer, we wouldn’t be stuck here!” You erupt, the words laced with bitterness and frustration, punctuated by the slamming of the door. Bending down, you scoop up a handful of mud, your movements fueled by anger, and hurl it at your boyfriend, the wet earth splattering against his chest with a muddy thud.

“Hey!” He shouts, his voice tinged with both surprise and frustration as the mud hits him squarely in the chest. “If I hadn’t swerved, we would’ve collided with the poor animal,” he huffs, his words defensive yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

“I don’t give a Shit! Why do you have to be so damn sweet?” You curse, frustration dripping from every word as you slump against the passenger’s door, letting your body slide down to the dirt. At this point, you couldn’t care less. You’re drenched, the rain relentless, and your clothes are soaked and caked with mud. You scoop up more dirt, hurling it at him, but a small smile tugs at your lips nonetheless.

“Why are you throwing mud at me?” He chuckles as you continue to hurl clumps of mud at him.

“You deserve to be as filthy as me. After all, this mess is all your doing,” you retort with a laugh, embracing the absurdity of the moment. You feel utterly ridiculous, but in the midst of your misery, why not find a bit of humor?

Your fingers coil around yet another clump of mud, but this one has an unfamiliar weight to it. Just as you’re about to launch it at him, a flicker of caution halts your arm mid-swing. What if it’s not just mud? What if it’s a stone? You freeze, the gravity of potentially hurting him suddenly sinking in. With a conscious effort, you halt your motion and peer closely at the object cradled in your palm.

As you inspect the object further, it dawns on you that it’s not a stone at all—it’s more box-shaped, its contours distinctly different from the surrounding mud.

You pull the object closer, curiosity piqued. With both hands now engaged in the inspection, the handkerchief falls forgotten into the mud below.

As you remove the mud from the box, your heart races with anticipation, and a surge of emotions washes over you—love, excitement, and a hint of disbelief. With trembling hands, you begin to realize the significance of what you might have stumbled upon.

Jimin notices the box in your hands, and as your eyes widen with realization, he senses a shift in the atmosphere. His own expression morphs into one of nervousness and shock as he hurries over to you, his voice pleading, “Don’t.”

“Jimin,” your voice quivers, uncertainty laced with a trembling anticipation as you gaze at the box in your hands. A strange mix of fear and longing swirls within you, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your body trembles with emotion. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Please don’t open it now,” he implores, his voice tinged with urgency as he kneels before you, eyes pleading.

You disregard his pleas, your focus solely on the mysterious box in your hands. His touch, though comforting, fades into the background as tears blur your vision. 

“Is this... for me?” The question trembles in your voice, laden with hope and uncertainty.

He takes a deep breath, a hint of frustration flickering across his features before he confirms with a soft, resigned tone, “It is.”

You lock eyes with him, your gaze searching for answers. “Why can’t I open it then?” You ask, your voice a blend of curiosity and longing, yearning to unravel the mystery within the box.

He bites his bottom lip, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he weighs his words carefully. “It’s not the right time,” he murmurs softly, his tone laden with hidden meaning, leaving you wondering what secrets the box holds and why now isn't the moment to unveil it.

“Right time?” You echo, your voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and longing, your fingers tightening around the box as if it holds the answers to all your questions. You draw it closer to your chest, the weight of it pressing against your heart, desperate for the secrets it guards to be revealed.

You feel as if the air has been sucked out of your lungs, a lump forming in your throat, making it hard to speak. “I don’t care about the right time,” you manage to say, your voice strained with emotion, your heart pounding against the confines of your chest.

Your voice quivers with raw emotion, the weight of your longing evident in every syllable. “I want to open it,” you insist, your words carrying the depth of your desire, echoing the urgency in your heart.

You catch a glimpse of uncertainty flickering in his eyes, a silent plea for patience. Yet, an undeniable yearning propels you forward. Damn it, you need to uncover the mysteries held within that box!

“Or better yet, you open it for me,” you press the box into his trembling hands, your voice a whisper of longing, “Please.”

He accepts the box from your hands into his own, his fingers tracing its edges with a tenderness that mirrors the emotion swirling in the air around you. For a timeless moment, the rain’s relentless patter provides the only soundtrack to your anticipation.

“Alright,” he whispers, his voice a gentle breeze in the midst of the rainstorm, laden with layers of emotion—love, adoration, and a hint of vulnerability that draws you closer.

With deliberate care, he unfurls the box’s lid, revealing its hidden treasure, as you stand there in the rain, every droplet echoing the rapid beat of your heart. Your breath hangs suspended as the ring emerges, a golden band adorned with a mesmerizing purple gemstone. Your hands quiver with anticipation, your gaze flitting between the ring and your beloved, each moment pregnant with emotion.

Jimin kneels before you, his eyes alight with a blend of love and hope that sparkles even in the rain-soaked dimness. His hair, drenched and plastered to his head, gives him an endearingly disheveled appearance, yet there’s an undeniable allure in his vulnerability. With the box cradled in his hand, he exudes a nervous energy, his lip caught between his teeth.

In that suspended moment, every beat of your heart seems magnified, echoing in the space between you and Jimin. Emotions swirl within you, a tumultuous mix of love and anticipation, rendering you speechless. Your affection for him surges, a tidal wave of adoration that threatens to overwhelm you. All you want is to feel the weight of that ring on your finger, a tangible symbol of your boundless love. 

Yet, as the seconds tick by, the question remains unspoken, hanging in the air like an unclaimed promise.

With a deep breath, he begins, “My love,” and the mere sound of those words sends a shiver down your spine, a surge of emotions welling up within you, threatening to overflow. His voice, soft yet laden with sincerity, washes over you like a gentle breeze on a summer day.

“I’ve loved you for so long, with every beat of my heart,” he confesses, his voice wavering with emotion amidst the relentless downpour. “I want nothing more than to spend eternity by your side, to cherish every moment with you. Will you marry me?” With those words, he offers you not just a ring, but his soul, laid bare before you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his devotion despite the storm raging around you.

Tears mingle with the raindrops, cascading down your cheeks, as you gaze at him, your heart a tumultuous symphony of emotions. In that moment, the world around you fades into a blur, leaving only him, his earnest expression etched into your soul.

“Fuck yes, you beautiful fool,” you manage to gasp amidst tears of joy, your muddy fingers staining his cheeks as you pull him into a fervent kiss. In that embrace, it’s as if the universe itself has aligned, every piece falling into perfect place. Your kiss is a declaration, a promise of endless love and boundless passion, a testament to the unbreakable bond between your souls. As you meld together in that moment, you can’t help but release a guttural sound of longing and satisfaction into his mouth.

With a tender chuckle, he breaks the kiss for a moment, and as you catch your breath, your left hand trembles with the weight of your affection as you extend it towards him.

Gently, he slides the ring over your muddy ring finger, his eyes never leaving yours, and when it finally settles in its place, you glance down at the ring. There, snug on your finger, it feels like it belongs, a tangible emblem of your love. You’re overwhelmed with an indescribable sense of completeness, your heart brimming with an abundance of love.

With a soft smile, you meet his gaze, captivated by the dimples adorning his cheeks. Eager for another kiss, you lean in, your enthusiasm propelling you forward, but in your haste, you inadvertently push him down onto the muddy ground. His back meets the wet earth, but undeterred, you lower yourself on top of him, your lips meeting in a fervent embrace, each kiss imbued with the passion and love that fills your heart.

You couldn’t care less about the rain, the mud coating your clothes, or the dampness seeping into your skin. In this moment, with his proposal still echoing in your mind, you’re consumed by an overwhelming sense of love and euphoria. It’s as if the world around you fades into insignificance compared to the depth of emotion swelling in your heart.

“Jimin, I…” You pause, your voice cracking with emotion as you lock eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze conveying volumes of unsaid words. “Damn it,” you continue, your voice trembling with raw sincerity, “I love you more than words can express. We’ve weathered storms together, faced hardships, but through it all, my love for you has only grown stronger. I want to spend eternity with you, by your side, through every high and every low.”

Tears stream down your cheeks, a mixture of overwhelming joy and profound emotion washing over you. But instead of words, you convey the depth of your feelings through a tender kiss, your lips meeting his with a fervor born of love. As you press against him, you feel the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling, a comforting reassurance amidst the storm of emotions. With each tear that falls, you’re reminded of the depth of your love, your journey, and the unwavering bond that binds your souls together.

With a gentle touch, he reaches for your face, his fingertips tracing the path of your tears, a futile attempt to wipe them away amidst the mud and rain. Despite the grime that now marks his hands, his touch carries a tenderness that speaks volumes, a silent promise to be there for you, even in the messiest of moments.

He lifts you gently, his hands cradling your face as he meets your gaze with sincerity. “I’m so sorry for everything, love,” he murmurs, his voice carrying the weight of his remorse and the depth of his affection.

You gently shake your head, your eyes meeting his with a soft intensity. “I know you’re sorry, and I am too. But we’ve said sorry enough,” you whisper, your voice carrying a note of resolve. “I just want to look ahead, please.”

With a solemn nod, mud now smudging his hair further, he reciprocates your kiss, his lips molding against yours as if they were made for each other. His lips, soft and warm against yours, feel like a sanctuary, each beat of your heart syncing with the rhythm of his own.

You break the kiss, your fingers intertwining with his as you guide him to sit beside you, eager to admire the ring together. The sight of it takes your breath away; it’s not just beautiful—it’s downright stunning. The way it catches the limited light, shimmering with a brilliance that reflects your love, leaves you speechless.

“How long have you had it?” Your question lingers in the air, accompanied by the gentle patter of raindrops. You can’t help but smile, feeling like the luckiest person in the world, despite the downpour soaking you both.

His laughter dances in harmony with the rhythm of the rain, a melody of joy amidst the storm. As his hand navigates through his hair, smearing more mud across his face, you can’t help but join in, your laughter echoing through the downpour.

“You won’t believe me,” he chuckles nervously, a hint of mystery teasing his words. You playfully shove him on the shoulder, your laughter mingling with the pitter-patter of raindrops. Leaning into his sturdy frame, you find comfort against the backdrop of the truck, a sanctuary in the midst of the storm.

“Try me,” you tease, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as you place your muddy hand over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your touch.

“I’ve had it for months,” he confesses, and you let out a gasp, pulling away to gaze at him with wide eyes, surprise painting your features.

“Shit, really?” You exclaim, disbelief evident in your voice. It’s hard to fathom that he’s been carrying the ring around for so long.

“I got it before Deiji came back and announced her pregnancy,” he confesses, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, though a hint of sadness lingers in his eyes.

“I’m still sorry about that, but I’m also relieved that we don’t have to deal with that anymore, to be honest,” you confide, a wistful smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah. I know,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a weight of longing and resignation. “I was really looking forward to being a father, I guess.”

You gently cup his cheeks, locking eyes with him. “I know, love. But you can still be a father-– a father to our kids. I want everything with you, even kids. Maybe not right at this moment, but in the future, absolutely.”

You witness the spark in his eyes ignite, tears welling up and cascading down his cheeks, his whole being pulsating with emotion. Without hesitation, you draw him close, enveloping him in a tight embrace, sharing in his overwhelming moment of vulnerability and love.

“Thank you. I love you so much,” his words, though muffled against your shoulder, resonate deeply within you, carrying the weight of his love and gratitude. You hold him tighter, cherishing the warmth of his embrace and the sincerity in his voice as he expresses his boundless affection.

You gently stroke his back, feeling the rise and fall of his trembling breaths against your chest. With tender reassurance, you speak softly, your words carrying the weight of unwavering devotion. “You beautiful fool,” you murmur, “I love you so much too.”

As the rain continues to cascade around you, mingling with the mud beneath your feet, Jimin’s resourcefulness shines through. With a determined glint in his eye, he offers a solution amidst the downpour. “How about this,” he suggests, his voice cutting through the rain’s steady rhythm. “You take the wheel, and I’ll push the truck forward from the back.” His hands grip a sturdy piece of wood, strategically positioned beneath the wheels for added traction.

Feeling a surge of determination, you nod decisively and make your way to the driver’s seat. With a sense of purpose, you settle in, the familiar hum of the engine beneath you. Guiding the gear shift into place, you take a deep breath, your focus unwavering. As the engine roars to life, you ease your foot onto the accelerator, the truck finally inching forward with each determined push from Jimin’s hands against its frame.

With each concerted effort, the truck gradually inches forward, overcoming the resistance of the mud with each determined push. A surge of triumph floods through you as the tires find traction, guiding the vehicle back onto the solid ground of the road. As Jimin approaches, his eyes bright with pride and relief, he leans in and seals the moment with a tender kiss, a silent celebration of your shared victory.

His grin widens as he gazes at your hand, adorned with the beautiful ring, and then back up at you. “Do you want to take the wheel?” he asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

Your laughter fills the cabin, a delightful symphony against the drumming rain outside. “No way, not in this weather,” you chuckle, relinquishing the driver’s seat and venturing back out into the rain. Jimin flashes you a grateful smile as he settles back into the driver’s seat, ready to navigate the wet roads once more.

Through the rain-streaked windshield, he guides you home with a steady hand, the soft hum of the engine blending seamlessly with the pitter-patter of raindrops. In this tranquil cocoon of affection, words seem unnecessary as your love speaks volumes, enveloping you both in a comforting embrace.

With practiced precision, he guides the truck onto the familiar terrain of the yard, the rain still a faithful companion to your journey.

You both leap out of the truck, a contagious giddiness infusing your steps, your hand instinctively seeking Jimin’s as you scan the expanse of the ranch for your friends, the anticipation palpable in the air that mirrors the fluttering excitement in your hearts. You can’t wait to tell your friends and sister what has happened.

As you scour the house and comb through every corner of the property, your curiosity leads you to the stables. With a creak of the door, you’re greeted by a chorus of voices resonating from within, hinting at the presence of your friends.

You tread down the rustic aisle of the stables, the earthy scent of hay and sawdust swirling around you. There, amidst the soft glow of fluorescent light, you spot your sister, Jungkook, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok engrossed in the meticulous task of cleaning out the stalls, their laughter echoing off the wooden beams.

You beam, your eyes catching Yoongi’s in the warm glow of the stable windows. His puzzled expression prompts a chuckle as he gestures towards your muddy attire, “What happened? You’re all covered in dirt.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling like the protagonist in some quirky romantic comedy. Grinning ear to ear, you confess, “We drove off the road.”

You observe as the guys down their tools, their attention instantly drawn to you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and worry.

Concern etches across your sister’s face as she strides over to you along the aisle, her voice soft with worry as she asks, “Are you okay?”

Grinning, you reassure them, “We’re all good. Managed to push the truck back on the road,” your laughter intertwining with the warmth of Jimin’s hand in yours.

Yoongi’s curiosity draws him closer, his eyes narrowing in on your beaming expression. “What’s got you grinning like a fool?” He prods, his voice a mix of amusement and genuine interest.

Yoongi’s playful smirk widens, his gaze shifting between you and Jimin. “Did you guys do it in the truck or something?” He teases, his tone laced with humor and a hint of mischief.

You burst into laughter, shaking your head at Yoongi's jest. “Nah, not this time,” you reply between chuckles, exchanging a knowing glance with Jimin.

“Gross,” Taehyung grunts in mock disgust from one of the stalls, his voice echoing playfully through the wooden space.

With a gleeful grin, you extend your left hand, showcasing the glimmering ring adorning your finger like a prized possession, the sunlight from the windows catching the gemstone and casting colorful reflections around the stable.

Yoongi’s eyes widen in surprise as they dart between the ring on your finger and Jimin’s face, his voice tinged with disbelief, “You proposed?”

Your sister practically shoves Yoongi away in her eagerness to get a closer look, grabbing your hand despite the mud, her eyes widening as she takes in the glinting ring. Then, her gaze shifts to Jimin, a mixture of joy and teasing in her voice, “You finally did it, huh? I’m so happy for both of you! Congratulations!”

You give Jimin and your sister a puzzled stare, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What do you mean? Did you know he was going to propose?”

Your sister chuckles, her eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “Yeah, me and Jungkook knew. I saw Jimin in the jewelry store, and he showed the ring to me. It’s perfect, right?” As she speaks, Jungkook appears behind her, wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace, a grin playing on his lips.

“It absolutely is,” you reply, wiggling your fingers and soaking in the sheer joy of the moment.

With no regard for the mud covering both of you, Yoongi envelops you in a tight embrace, drawing Jimin into the hug as well. “I’m so happy for both of you,” he declares, his voice thick with emotion. As he releases you and moves toward his boyfriend for a hug, you feel the warmth of his happiness lingering in the air.

As you prepare to return home, a strange sensation grips you, a reluctance to part ways with Jimin. Despite the completion of your ranch project and the fond memories made there with him, the idea of leaving him behind feels unsettling. You feel like you’re leaving a piece of your heart behind with him. Yet, it’s a decision you’ve both agreed upon, a part of the plan to return home.

You and your sister pull up to the two-story ranch, freshly painted and gleaming in the sunlight, and a wave of disbelief washes over you. The transformation is remarkable, almost surreal. Where once stood a weathered, tired structure now stands a vibrant testament to renewal and hard work. It’s as if you’ve arrived at the wrong address, the familiarity of the old ranch replaced by the unfamiliarity of its rejuvenated form.

Your sister’s voice breaks the momentary trance, her words a gentle reminder of the significance of the place. “Home sweet home,” she declares, stepping out of the truck, her tone imbued with warmth and nostalgia.

“Yeah,” you respond, the word carrying a weight you hadn’t intended. As you shut the truck doors, a melancholic sigh escapes you, a silent acknowledgment of the bittersweet feeling settling in your chest.

Stepping into the once-familiar yet now transformed house feels like entering a parallel universe. Everything appears unchanged on the surface, but the atmosphere is different, charged with an unfamiliar energy that leaves you feeling like an outsider in your own home. Memories, both joyful and sorrowful, linger in the air like whispers of a past life now distant and unreachable.

You trudge your way to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed that feels foreign beneath you, devoid of the familiar impressions of nights past. Your gaze sweeps across the room, noticing the barren walls and the stark emptiness of the new dresser. It’s as if the fire that swept through, consumed every trace of the life you once knew, leaving only ashes in its wake. Anguish tightens your chest as you stare up at the ceiling, the truth settling in like a heavy weight on your shoulders—this place, this shell of a home, it’s not where your heart resides.

Nothing is home if Jimin isn’t there.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 Remember the Q&A that is coming in the Epilogue— if you want to send in some questions for the characters, you can do it now (and later too) → Ask the characters (or me), anything ❣️

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[writing-shroom]

Hooo congrats for 200 <3 (this for the 200 event)

Heyoo:D oml oml ive never done a request before so baban I’m nervous ahhh I’m sorry if I did this wrong 🥲

Can I request prompts 6 and 40 with Kyōjurō ( if not kyo, then giyuu or uzui pls🌟) i watched mugen train last week and I’m dying so please can make it fluffy and just the kny au? That makes sense right? Like no au just the world they live in I’m confused uuih no preference really for type, just do whatever is easier for you <3 I was thinking maybe smth just domestic and soft because I’m a softie for soft things :D sry if this wasn’t clear enough

Byebye!! Have a great day shroomie~

(Can I call you that?)

No place like home // R. Kyojuro x Reader || 200 Celebration

Pairing: R.Kyojuro x reader [KNY au, yes this is to poke fun at tea /j /lh]

Summary/Prompts: You were patiently waiting by the engawa for your love to come home, just as you were about to retire to bed, a fire tipped haori caught your eye. Prompts 6 + 40; "Can you hold something for me?" "Yeah sure,,,dear that's your hand." "I know" + Clinging hugs, not wanting let go in fear of losing them.

Words: 2,1K words

Warning: TW! Mentions of injuries, no mcd we're not doing that here nonono, im not gonna hurt y'all like that. Not proofreaded (?), you've been warned.

Gender neutral reader!

a/n: teeeaaaaa my bestie how you've been :DD i just talked to you a few hours ago but still, i never wrote for kyojuro before i hope i do his character right .m. but i just had to! we need to keep san loyal here 👏👏😂 /lh /j

You scrunched your face, the cold nighttime wind made your hair smack against your cheeks. Puffing away the stray strands away from your eye, you sighed and brought your knees to your chin.

"(Y/N)-san? What are you still doing awake?"

Yelping, you abruptly turned around. Only to find little Senjuro standing by the sliding doors.

"I could ask you the same thing Sen," You jested, wrapping your arms around your legs tucked under your chin. "Kyojuro wouldn't be happy to see you staying up so late."

He sat down next to you, fiddling with his fingers.

"I know, but I couldn't sleep." Another sign of his anxiousness were his feet swinging back and forth off the side of the engawa. "Not when aniki's on a mission."

Feeling your heart sink, you sighed and pulled Senjuro to your side. "He'll come home, like he always does remember?"

Was that meant to comfort him or you? You weren't really sure, but you knew it didn't really work on either of you. Kyojuro always came home, he promised he would.

But, this mission felt different.

A train was being suspected of demon activity, mugen train if you remembered correctly. Normally when your boyfriend would go on his mission you had not a single doubt that he would be coming home, you had gotten used to it.

This time however, something didn't feel right. He should be back by now.

"Come Senjuro, let's get you to bed," You coaxed, ruffling his hair. "Then when you have enough energy in the morning, we can make some snacks for when Kyo comes back."

He debated over the idea, on one hand he wants to stay up with you but on the other he was really sleepy. The yawn escaping his mouth was proof of it. And it didn't help that you were running your hand soothingly across his back, you were trying to get him to sleep and he knew it.

Giving in he nodded sleepily, letting you pulled him by the hand to his bedroom.

"Good night Sen," You got an incoherent mumble and a loose hug as your response, he meant well though, he's just really tired.

Sliding his bedroom door shut you stepped back, maybe you should've tried to comfort him more. But what else could you say? Sighing you massaged your temple and walked down the hall.

You should probably head to bed too.

It didn't matter if he came home littered with cuts and bruises, Kyojuro would be worried sick if he found out that you stayed up all night waiting for him. Shaking your head laughing fondly at the memory, still remembering the way he was racing around the place, panicking over the fact that you had a cold.

Taking the scenic route, you walked pass the entrance, wanting to check in one last time. Just in case he came home tonight.

Staying there for a few minute, you sighed disappointedly when you didn't see his oh so familiar red tipped golden hair coming towards you. Guess it's bed for you then.

Breathing out on your freezing hands you walked slowly round the corner, you hoped he was warm where ever he was. As you were about to disappear behind the corner a fire bordered haori appeared in the corner of you eye.

He's home

Spinning around you took a double take, just incase it was your sleep deprived mind playing tricks on you. But no, there he was, standing up with the help of some kakushi but he was there.

"Kyo!"

He wasn't expecting you to be up, his surprise was evident with the way his body straighten out suddenly, trying to walk to you but failing. The two kakushi at his side panicked momentary to catch him, but they sighed in relief when they did.

"(Y/N)? What you doing up? You should be sleeping," He asked when you rushed over to meet them in the middle.

A quick chat with the kakushi brought you up to date, upper moon three had unexpectedly appeared during his mission. Luckily he had manage to hold it in a stand still until sunrise, where the demon fled to hide from the morning sun.

But of course, he suffered some injuries, some more serious than others.

Trapping Kyojuro within your embrace you helped him stand upright in place of the two kakushi, who had already said their farewells and now are just leaving. Once you couldn't hear their footsteps anymore, you buried your head in the crook of his neck.

"My dear what's wrong?"

You but your lip, tightening your arms around him, not wanting to let go incase you actually did fall asleep and this was all just a dream. It never occurred to you how easy it was for you to lose him while he's on a mission miles away, but seeing him stagger in —barely being able to stand by himself and covered in bandages— it shook you body and mind.

Pinching your eyes shut, you ignored the tears rolling down your face and clutched onto the back of his clothing, sending your gratitude to what ever powers that lies above for letting him come home to you and Senjuro.

While the sun rose behind you, the both of you stayed there for a few more minutes. Just soaking in each other's warmth or a little while longer, squeezing him one last time you stepped back a little —you figured it was time for him to get some rest after such a tiring mission.

Kyojuro whined when he couldn't feel your embrace any more, making you giggle and sling his arm over your should to keep him balanced.

"We can cuddle later, right now you need to get some rest," You tried reasoning, laughing when your boyfriend retorted that cuddling you is resting.

Leading him to your shared room, you helped him sit down at the futon and handed him some clothes to change into before rushing off to get some water. Not only for him to drink but to wash away some of the grim they couldn't clean in the rush to cover his wounds.

You'll have to make a quick trip to the butterfly estate to get more salves and gauze, but that didn't matter, Kyo was home now.

Taking one step into your bedroom you burst into a fit of laughter when you walked in on your said boyfriend struggling to get his hair in order, some of it disobeying him entirely and made a crown of spiked up fire-like hair surrounding his head.

Hearing the sound of your laughter, Kyojuro froze and looked up at you as best he can from underneath all the hair falling in front of his face.

While he was being dazzled by you, his grip became loose and now even more of his red tipped locks fell on his face. Spluttering and blowing away some of it, his vision only partly came back when you brushed a portion away. Still chuckling, you continued sweeping away his hair from his eyes.

"There we go," Grabbing a brush, you gently combed through his hair, untangling any knots you find along the way.

Meanwhile Kyojuro sat there obediently and simply enjoyed the feeling of your fingers brushing his hair, humming contently when you message his scalp lightly. He'll say hello to Senjuro in the morning, he didn't want to wake him up in the middle of the night after all.

Feeling your hands move from his hair to his shoulders, he pulled on them to bring you forward, making you press against his back. You propped your chin up against his shoulder, in return he turned slightly to nuzzle his cheek against yours.

Circling your arms around his shoulders you placed a kiss against his temple, intertwining his hands with yours he breathed out.

He was glad to be home.

The sun was high in the sky by the time Kyojuro woke up again, but he didn't want to just yet. Rolling over to his side, he tried reaching over to hug you, only to grab a pillow instead.

'Wait, this isn't (Y/N).'

Groggily blinking at the pillow, it took him a moment to finally realise that you weren't in bed with him.

Pouting a bit he grunted as he tried sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Kyojuro looked around the room to see if you where there or not. Sniffing the air however he smelled someone cooking sweet potatoes, oh he knew where you were.

"(Y/N)-san! I'm going to clean up the garden," Senjuro said taking off his apron. "I'll go extra fast though! So I can come back when aniki's awake."

Chuckling you set down the knife and pat his head, "Okay but, don't rush yourself Sen."

Leaving with a nod, he went out to do the task while you finished up preparing lunch. Nothing but the quiet thuds of your knife cutting through vegetables could be heard in the kitchen.

While normally you would trust Senjuro to cut the vegetables while you could clean up the house. He's so excited that his brother's home, that he wants to get through his chores as quick as possible, and it was less likely for him to get hurt with a broom than it is a knife.

Speaking of which,

"Good morning my dearest," A voice said behind you while wrapping their arms around your waist.

"It's the afternoon Kyojuro, but yes good morning darling." Looking behind you, you scrunched your face when you were met with a kiss in between your eyebrows.

"Can I help you in anyway?" He asked, like every other time you were in the kitchen, still tilting his head to the side cutely as always.

"No no no, you're injured therefor have to rest," Setting down the knife again, you tried shooing him away back to the bedroom. The attempt was unsuccessful since he simply shuffled to side a lil to avoid your pushing.

Crossing your arms, you and Kyojuro entered a staring match. It was a wonder how you even lasted five seconds against his pleading eyes, sighing you gave up and linked your arms together so you could guide him over to the kitchen counter to help you with the vegetables.

Happy with his new job, he worked by your side, both of your cracking a few jokes here and there or maybe starting up a new conversation.

Finally after roughly half an hour you were done. Wiping down the table, you took off your apron and was about to call Senjuro back for lunch.

"Can you hold something for me?" It was an innocent question, so you went along with it.

"Yeah sure,,,dear that's your hand."

"I know"

Looking up at your boyfriend, who had a cheeky grin on his face, you rolled your eyes at his cheesiness and pecked his cheek so he would let you go for a just little bit. But when you tried walking away you were stopped by Kyojuro still holding your hand.

Huffing affectionately and you let him twirl you back into his arms. "Hun you are being really sweet right now and I think it's absolutely adorable," You started, poking his nose playfully. "But I need to get Senjuro for lunch."

Perking up at the mention of his brother, Kyojuro's eyebrows shot up as he grinned. "Where is he by the way? I tried looking for him but i couldn't find him."

"Aniki!"

Came another voice behind him, swiftly turning around he spotted Senjuro running towards him.

"Right there," You answered too late, the brothers were already hugging. Each had wide grins, and you could maybe see a few tears pricking out of the corners of Senjuro's eyes. You'll wiped his face later, going to set the table you let them have their moment.

It was much too sweet for you to interrupt anyways.

Taking a sip of tea from your cup, you sat at your end of the table gazing at the bright blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. What a nice day to be together.

woof another one done :3 eee can't believe im your first request ;w; i hope i did it justice lovely! reading ur request was so cute, never stop being cute hun. nothin like a bit of soft angst to make the fluff even sweeter, and yes you can absolutely call me shroomy please do not stop. Remember to stay safe and hydrated lovelies! Hope everyone had a good day, and I'll see you in the next fic :DD

Event closed! ☼ Masterlist ☼

#🍪200.milestone #🍪200.celebration #🍪200.event #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kyojurou x reader #rengoku x reader #🌼friends #☕️teeea #look tea and cookies :D #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #shroom kny fic

[buckyownsmylife]

Memory - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where Bucky's a vampire but still manages to develop a breeding kink

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, vampire!AU, creampie, daddy kink, mention of blood because of biting

A/N: this is for my darling cousin @whisperlullaby​‘s challenge, and also my own! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. I hope you guys will enjoy this silly idea of a vampire with a breeding kink 💛 I had a blast writing it! Unbeta’ed because I almost died this week and cannot be bothered to stare at my writing for any longer.

Bucky’s P.O.V.

“Okay, let’s play truth or dare!” I groaned as silently as possible at the proposition. One of the downsides of dating someone in college was having to deal with the immaturity of their friends, especially when I was unable to escape yet another invitation for a weekend getaway.

There were only so many encounters a man could refuse before mysterious became annoying, and I knew I was toeing the line, even if my girlfriend never complained.

She understood just how irritating these gatherings could be to me. It would have been easy to imagine if there was a realistic age gap between us, but considering the centuries that separated our birth dates, it was laughable that anyone would entertain the idea of me with a bunch of young adults who only wanted to get laid, smoke some weed and drink their asses off.

Of course, her friends didn’t know my true age, so they only thought I was a little bit irked by their behavior. Y/N knew the truth, and so evidently she tried to get me out of it, but I resisted.

I wanted her to take part in the normal experiences people her age were having. There was already so much that she was missing out on just by being with me - and I wasn’t even referring to the blood that she granted me every night.

I’d accepted to be there with her that evening. I was going to immerse myself in the full experience, if only to learn a bit more about her and those she surrounded herself with.

Her best friend let out a little excited yell when she noticed that we were joining the circle and I forced myself to smile at her. “Alright, let’s do this.” One of the male friends rubbed his hands before reaching for the bottle, making it spin as I frowned. I thought that was a different game, but apparently I was mistaken.

It landed on a girl I had yet to get acquainted with, and so I disconnected myself from the conversation as I watched my beloved laugh and have fun with her friends. It made me feel warm. It made me grateful I had decided to join.

A few more rounds went by without anything of essence actually happening. I was about to excuse myself when the bottle surprisingly stopped while pointing at Y/N.

She gasped as she stared at the man who was responsible for deciding her fate, and I already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming next. But she was smart, so she avoided the dare that would undoubtedly enrage me, leaving her to answer a question that I also would have preferred not to hear.

“So… Y/N…” He began, taking far too much pleasure at the situation, and by the way she rolled her eyes, I knew she was thinking the same.

“Yes, Simon.” He opened his mouth to say something, but instinctively looked my way. I was trying my best not to let any emotion slip through the cracks of my perfectly constructed mask, but whatever it was that he saw seemed to make him change his mind.

He closed his mouth and frowned, for a second deep in thought, before he sighed and finally voiced his question. “Just tell us one of your kinks.”

It sounded like he was trying to get this over with, and although Y/N seemed just as confused, she cleared her throat and gave him an answer.

“Oh, I don’t know… I guess.. Creampie?” Little giggles and comments rose around the circle, but nothing really stuck out and they were quick to motion her to spin the bottle so another person could have a turn.

It was a different reaction that I was expecting, especially considering what everyone did for much tamer answers, but the explanation for the lukewarm crowd was made clear by a groaned comment from Simon to the man beside him.

“This is no fun now that she isn’t single.” A small giggle resonated by my side, and I turned in the direction it came from to find my girlfriend trying to suppress her amusement behind her palm.

“Something funny, little one?” I knew they’d take notice of the pet name, but I honestly couldn’t be bothered to even pretend to care, and the fact that she smiled openly up at me showed me that she didn’t, either.

“Not at all.” She pulled me closer to deposit a quick peck on my lips and I was sure if my heart was still beating, it would have fluttered at the way she looked at me. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course.” Thankfully, the game didn’t last much longer - for us, at least. Somehow, the bottle didn’t land on me once, and Y/N started to yawn, her head resting against my shoulder after the third consecutive “Who would you rather bang?” question.

“I think we’re gonna leave for the night,” she excused us even though I knew she wasn’t really sleepy. She really could be an excellent actress when she wanted to.

We walked up the stairs to where the bedrooms were located, quickly getting in what had been assigned as ours for the weekend. She smiled softly at me as she reached for her backpack, no doubt looking for the one shirt of mine she always slept in, but I had a few things in my mind I wanted to ask her about.

“Why do you like creampies to much?” The words spilled out at me so unusually, considering the silence in the room, it didn’t surprise me that it took her a while to answer. When she did though, I was surprised to find her biting her lip, a look between amused and horny in her eyes when she approached me.

“Dunno.” She shrugged, taking my hands in her and playing with my fingers. I knew it was a way to avoid my intense gaze. “Guess I have a bit of a breeding kink, actually. It just felt too personal to share with those guys.”

The answer took me by surprise as I stared down at her, blinking a couple of times as I made sure to really process what she had said.

“A breeding kink?” I confirmed, and she rolled her eyes in that way I knew she did when she was embarrassed but trying to play it off as annoyed.

“Yeah, you know.” She pulled away from me to sit on the bed, legs dangling off of it almost like a child. “I like the idea of being bred. Even though I’m in no way ready to become a mother,” she added in a serious tone, making sure I understood what she meant.

But I didn’t. I didn’t and I guess it was clear in my face, because she quirked an eyebrow and jumped out of the bed, coming to stand before me once more.

“Why is this so weird to you?” She inquired, head tilted in amusement. “You’re over a century old, I’m sure your expectations regarding sexual relationships were related to impregnation for most of your life.”

And I mean… she wasn’t wrong. But I hadn’t thought about that for so long, I guess it didn’t occur to me that there was an actual term for it these days.

“There’s no way you don’t have a breeding kink.” The affirmation sounded almost like a dare, so my instinct was to fight it, wrap my arms around her torso so I’d keep her close to me, but deny it.

“You know I can’t ‘breed’ anyone anymore, darling.” But she wasn’t giving up. Her fingers softly traced my jawline, eyes sparkling with a dangerous glint as she countered, “Doesn’t mean you can’t like the idea of it.”

Even though I didn’t need the oxygen, I inhaled sharply, suddenly fascinated by her every movement, the way she gently unwrapped herself from my arms to slowly unbutton her simple dress, the one she made it look like a fucking gown.

“Think about it, Buck…” Every inch of skin that became exposed to my eyes still had my mouth watering, desperate to taste her all over.

“Wouldn’t you want to see me round with your child?” The question provoked my imagination, playing with her features as I thought about what she proposed. Her breasts fuller, stomach protuberant, and maybe a little feet rubbing against the skin, something I could kiss.

“See me carry your genes, continue your lineage… Wouldn’t you want that?” Her innocent eyes spelled trouble when she stood before me again, close enough to touch.

And I couldn’t deny that the idea did something to my heart - even though it didn’t beat anymore. Most undeniably, it definitely did something to my cock, which now strained against my pants, the arousal that the image of her impregnated by me provoked bursting as I looked at the creature that I loved in wonder and fascination.

“Are you trying to tempt me, doll?” She bit on her lower lip to stop herself from giggling before I pulled it away from her teeth when I took her in my arms again, naked breasts rubbing against my shirt.

“Is it working?” She breathed out, eyes connected to mine while she tried to gather my feelings about her attempt. I pressed her body closer, making sure she’d feel the hardness in my pants before I even voiced it.

“Very well,” I whispered in her ear, enjoying the way my cold breath awakened goosebumps all over her warm skin. She never complained about the difference in temperature, something that I was profoundly grateful for, since I loved to feel her hot blood pumping underneath my fingertips whenever I trailed my digits over her flesh.

“So tell me,” she pressed, still going for seductive even though she sounded slightly out of breath, her desire evident in the way her pupils had dilated. “Would you like to breed me, James?”

A shiver went down my spine at the question and I closed my eyes for just one second, just to relish in this sensation before I opened them to confess, “You have no idea how much I’d like that.”

My hand easily spread her lower lips, middle finger running between them to test her wetness and finding her soaked, like she always seemed to be for me. The knowledge had me smiling as I lifted my hand to taste her before making quick work of my belt, observing her slowly walking backwards towards the bed as I followed, almost like there was a thread connecting us, keeping us close.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned against my ear as he buried himself inside of me and I clutched at his shoulders, desperate to feel every part of him connected to every part of me.

Only he could get me this way. Chest heaving, mouth open just from the simple act of feeling him stretching me open. It didn’t matter how many times he took me, it still burned the same - and I loved it.

“Tell me, doll,” he panted, hypnotizing eyes connected to mine, unwilling to let my gaze escape his hold. “Tell me you’d want to have my child. You’d look so beautiful with your body changing because of me, wouldn’t you want that?”

I groaned, throwing my head back as James fucked me senseless, his cock ramming against my sweet spot over and over again. He knew no mercy, I knew that. I just never anticipated to have such an overwhelming reaction to a silly little kink I never even thought I’d ever get to explore.

“Answer me, little one.” His fangs came into play then, piercing around the nipple that he sucked, galvanizing me into actually responding, “I would, I would, daddy,” while pulling on his hair without even realizing.

He let go of my breasts to look at me with dark eyes - not because he had come in contact with my blood, oh no. It was clear that this was the reaction to the name that escaped me so easily, waving its way into him until it broke the last bit of his control and left him completely undone, only determined to fuck me.

I watched him lick his lips before he ordered, “tell daddy you want his cum inside of you.” Hearing him acknowledge this other secret kink, refer to himself as it had me delirious, unable to formulate any words to obey him, so I opted to hide my face in the crook of his neck, hoping the feeling of my burning cheeks would satiate him.

What a mistake.

“Oh, so now you’re shy?” He mocked, rubbing his jaw against my cheek as I whined against him. “Want daddy’s cum so much but can’t be a good girl and beg for it?”

I came with a long drawn-out gasp right then, my body twitching underneath his as his cock dragged along my walls once, twice, a third time until it spilled his cum inside of my channel. The act was so hot to me that it had me pulling on his hair, whispers of “I love you, I love you,” tumbling out of my lips.

He silenced me with a kiss, still managing to keep on thrusting until I had to push him away because of my sensitivity.

“Spread your legs for me, little one…” He ordered, brushing his tongue over his lower lip in contemplation. “Let me see the mess I left there.”

I was still a bit nervous about the whole ordeal now that the wave of horniness had left me, but I did eventually spread my legs for him, whimpering as he bit down on his own lip at the sight of his spent dripping from my abused pussy.

“Oh, you look so good like that, darling.” I could barely contain my giddiness as he laid down by my side and pulled me to rest on his chest, pressing a kiss to my temple while he caressed my arm. “But one question remains unanswered.” To my almost sleepy hum, he proceeded, “Why do you like the idea of breeding so much?”

That got me thinking, wiping the tiredness off of my muscles like a bucket of cold water. It felt weird to admit it, but at the same time, I wanted nothing more than to bare my soul to the man I loved, to have him aware of every little thing about me…

So I admitted, “I like the idea of being yours… in this very scary, slightly territorial way.” At his silence, I giggled, hiding my face on his chest as I waited for his response.

“But you are mine,” he reminded me, and even as I rolled my eyes, a silly smile painted my lips, loving that he felt like he needed to tell me that.

“I know I am,” I recognized. “It’s just another way I’d like to be claimed by you. Besides, I can just imagine how well you’d take care of me…”

Silence filled the room as we both got lost in the images of what could never be. Me with a fully-grown belly, walking like a penguin as he held up tiny onesies that looked ridiculous in his huge hands.

My heart ached for what could never be, surely, but I couldn’t really grieve a future I’d never have while I was so happy with the man who wanted to give me one.

“I’ll always take care of you.” He kissed the back of my hand, and even though he knew it wasn’t exactly what I meant, it was just enough. “I’m sorry that I can’t ever give you children.”

The guilt in his tone was almost palpable, and I wanted to do anything in my power to make it disappear. This wasn’t what I intended when I shared my sexual fantasies with him. They were just that - fantasies. I wouldn’t trade my reality for any alternative version the universe could offer me.

“It’s alright, babe,” I assured him, depositing a kiss on his chest, right where his heart would be beating for me if it could. “I think the way you want to claim me is just as territorial… and much more final.”

Bucky held me close, breathing me in - even if he didn’t need to do that to survive - before he asked me the last doubt that still hovered in his mind.

“Aren’t you scared?” And as I laid there in his embrace, feeling loved and cared for, I knew the only acceptable answer that I could give him was, “It’ll be worth it.”

#whispers700challenge #my 2k challenge #my fics #bucky barnes smut #smut #vampire au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes reader inserts #bucky barnes fanfiction

[schrodingersauthorii]

In honor of Salvage Ch. 18, I have prepared the first chapter of my Phoenix Salvage AU. @muffinlance , there’s one scene that’s 100% an improvement in my overall writing structure I pulled from you, and I bet NOBODY can tell which one it is.

—————————

The young soldier must have somehow heard the blade coming. He didn’t have time to cry out, but the panic stains his face. Not quite the easy death Hakoda wanted, but unavoidable, and still far kinder than leaving him to the sea.

Two years of fighting had left many too-young Fire Nation soldiers dead on this deck, but this was different than a battle. Different even than a mercy kill, back when they thought maybe Fire Nation prisoners would simply accept a fate other than death.

The soldier wouldn’t have left them any choice in the end. But he hadn’t forced their hands. Not yet.

One of the men murmured a prayer, a simple benediction for the journey to the next life. This wasn’t the clean up after a battle, and there might not Fire elders speaking rites for the kid somewhere across the sea. The soldier might only have what they give him, and they're pragmatic people- not cruel.

The Fire Nation burns their dead. That would be kindest, but if they could safely build a pyre, then they could have safely kept a firebending prisoner. The young soldier have a sea burial.

The corpse vetoed this. Violently.

Akake and Tuluk yelped, dropping the suddenly burning body onto the wooden deck.

Fire shouldn’t be green and purple, Hakoda barely had to think, and the fire disappeared. He blinked the sparks out of his eyes, and the deck was as clear. No fire, purple-green or otherwise. Just a vaguely soldier shaped mound of ash.

Hakoda reached down to touch it: barely warm, and not so much as a soot mark beneath it.

Something stirred. Something tiny. Hakoda grabbed it without giving himself time to think about it. Whatever it was squirmed frantically in his hand.

Hakoda looked down, expecting- something. A still beating heart, perhaps. A reptile or worm, at the very least. Something repulsive and macabre. But a tiny, down-feathered bird trembled in his hand. He brushed ash off of soft, orange wings. Even filthy, the fledgling glowed like sunrise.

“It’s a bird,” Hakoda said, dumbfounded.

“A bird,” Tuluk repeated.

The bird cheeped in distress. Hakoda started to pet it, but it nearly fell to the deck in its effort to escape his hand. He quickly cupped it with both hands instead. The bird pecked at his fingers.

The entire deck stared in stunned silence. What were they supposed to do with a bird?

————————

Tolko presented a box hastily stuffed with hay from the albatross-pidgeon coop. Hakoda carefully dropped the chick inside. It burrowed down into the loose “nest,” still cheeping incessantly.

“He’s so cute,” Tolko gasped. “What are we going to do with him?”

Tolko stared at the bird with love already in his eyes. The bird stared back with… suspicion. At the very least.

Hakoda’s temples begun a warning throb.

“Ask Kustaa if he can… find anything,” he finally said.

Tolko cooed at the bird as he walked away.

Hakoda felt a dreadful portent hum in his bones: this would not end well, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

------

“What is that?” Kustaa asked.

“A bird,” Tolko said. And held the chick up to Kustaa’s face, as if not seeing the puffball was the problem.

“Which might also be a Fire Nation soldier. The Chief wants to know if you can find anything.”

“A soldier.”

“Yeah. He was drifting past, we fished him out, but he was. You know. A Fire Nation soldier. And he said he was a firebender. So.”

“So what?”

“He kind of...died. And spontaneously combusted. The bird was in the ashes. See?”

Tolko brushed the bird’s head and held up a sooty finger. The chick couldn’t really floof in anger- it was already at maximum floof- but it gave its best impression of outrage anyway. Tolko hastily placed it on the table before it could tumble out of his hand.

“This is a bird,” Kustaa said. “I’m a healer, not an ornithologist. Or a shaman. All I’m qualified to say whether or not YOU have brain rot.”

“Umm…” Tolko mumbled.

“Any headaches? Blurred vision? Acute pain in your arms or legs? Motor difficulties?” Kustaa asked as he prodded Tolko’s arms.

“No?”

“Then we’ll work with the assumption that Spirits were involved, not Swamp Fever. Hopefully, a minor Spirit.”

Kustaa leaned down in front of the bird.

“Can you understand us: peck two times, then three.”

Low and behold, the bird did… then stared at them and pecked a deliberate pattern of some sort.

“I don’t understand that,” Kustaa said.

A storm of outraged peeping.

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Are you a Spirit, one peck for yes, two pecks for no.”

Two pecks, and more outraged peeping.

“...Are you a bird?”

In hindsight, it was incredibly bold of them to assume Zuko knew more than they did about anything.

--------

Tuluk entered Hakoda’s office after a single knock, and Hakoda’s temples immediately resumed pounding.

“Apparently, the bird insists he is the soldier, and NOT a Spirit,” Tuluk said.

Hakoda pinched the bridge of his nose. And resolved to make an offering soon. There were stories about shapeshifting Spirits who forgot they weren’t human.

“Keep an eye on him,” Hakoda said. “We’ll head to the nearest port and find an Earth Sage. This is exactly the kind of trouble we don’t need.”

Tuluk nodded grimly.

A thought struck Hakoda. “How did…?”

Tuluk sighed. “Lots of questions. Lots of patience. Kustaa is positively charmed with the little menace.”

“He’s a bird.”

“A mean one,” Tuluk agreed. “But he’s warmed to Kustaa and Tolko, for stars knows why.”

Hakoda didn’t like the idea of a Spirit getting… attached to his crew, but he liked the idea of an upset Spirit on his ship even less.

“Keep an eye on them, please,” Hakoda said.

Tuluk nodded, understanding in his eyes.

“I’ll do my best, but that’s a conversation you need to have with Kustaa and Tolko. Probably the rest of the crew, too.”

Hakoda’s headache sharpened with knife-like intensity. Tuluk eyed him with concern.

“Chief. Nobody will blame you if you need a drink before that. Kustaa’s almost ordered a shipwide medicinal order.”

Hakoda sighed.

“After,” he promised. And didn’t clarify after what.

—————————-

Their youngest crewman tucked the surly creature into his parka, from where it eyed everyone and everything with deep suspicion. Tolko kept up a mostly one-sided commentary, which the soldier-bird seemed surprisingly engaged with.

“Do you know his name?” Punuk asked as Tolko showed the bird their snack break offerings.

“No,” Tolko said through a mouthful of salted fish. “It’s the character for ‘righteous rule,’ but we couldn’t figure out the pronunciation. So Birdie it is.”

“Birdie” cheeped aggressively enough to attract the other crewmen’s attention for the first time in hours. There was still work to be done, and his constant noise quickly faded into the background.

“That’s terrible. How about… Sparky? Ember?”

“Blaze.”

“Inferno.”

“Red.”

“You can’t call him red, he’s pink.”

“He’s definitely more orange than pink.”

“Orange still isn’t red.”

Ragnalok tossed an empty water skin at the pair.

“Stop torturing the poor guy. He already died once today.”

The trio went quiet.

“Way too soon, man,” Panuk said.

Birdie was… worryingly quiet for several hours after that.

-------

Tolko roused in the middle of the night, awakened by a faint stirring of downy feathers and soft cooing. Birdy was awake. Tolko couldn’t see it, but dawn must be on the horizon.

Birds liked dawn. So did firebenders, presumably. It was early, but Tolko wasn’t tired-tired, so…

Tolko scooped Birdy up in one hand and slid out of his hammock. “We’ll go top deck,” he whispered as he tucked Birdy into his collar.

Birdy cheeped in a maybe grumpy, maybe affirmative way. But it was soft, so Tolko didn’t think he was upset. Birdy was very, very good at communicating when he was upset, bird or not.

It still seemed uncharacteristic. And Birdy was slumping on Tolko’s shoulder in a way he hadn’t yesterday.

Tolko scooped Birdy back into his hand, and Birdy just… cheeped quietly. Cheeped once and fell silent.

Okay. It was early: Birdy might just be tired. It was a Thing, that birds got sleepy when it was dark- even if it wasn’t actually night. They’d go topdeck and watch the sunrise, and if Birdie still seemed off he’d come back and wake Kustaa.

Tolko climbed the last stair just as the sun broke free of the horizon. Birdie chirped softly again, and Tolko held him out into the light.

“It’s beautiful,” Tolko said.

And Birdie once again caught fire on the Spirits damned deck.

#avatar the last airbender #fanfic #phoenix salvage

[nicka-nell]

Say… Who do you belong to?

○ Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader, mention of Oikawa ○ Words: 7.675  ○ Genre: Mafia-AU, NSFW, Smut, 18+ ○ Warning: noncon! oral, force, gun play, slightly breath play, violence, slightly manipulation, daddy kink, blood, pain, rape, dark content, 18+, Minors DNI! ○ Note: All characters are grown up! This fic contains dark content! ○ This fic is part of a server collab. The masterlist can be found here 

Prompt: "I wonder what he'd do if he knew you were with me right now."

Summary: You are Oikawa’s most precious treasure. His beloved wife, whom he married a few years ago and with whom he had bought a wonderful house. But what you don’t know is that Oikawa has a lot of debts with a mafia boss, who suddenly pulls you out of your wonderful life and declares you as his victory. You’re husband and wife, so his debts are also yours, which you now have to settle with Ushijima.

A little sleepy, you turn around a few times in bed. The fine silk sheets have nestled tightly around your body, flattering your contours, while the space next to you is cold and empty.

“Good morning, my precious angel.” The cheerful voice of your husband sounds as you feel the warm, soft lips of Oikawa on your shoulder blade and turn to him with a smile. “Good morning Tooru. Why are you up so early?” The moon is still bright in the sky, while the rest is adorned in darkness.

“I have to leave early today. But I’ll be back tonight, and then I’ll take good care of you.” Winking, he grins and gives you one last kiss before he walks out of your front door. You still don’t lose your smile when you look at the closed door. Because you are happy.

You have wonderful friends, a wonderful husband by your side you married a few years ago, a big house, and hopefully soon children who would make your life perfect.

With quiet music in the background, you stand in the kitchen and prepare Oikawa’s favorite food as you hear the door quietly open. First, you frown and are surprised that Oikawa is there so early, but the closer the steps are to you, the more uncomfortable the feeling in your stomach becomes.

These are not the steps of Oikawa. Besides, it’s two people you hear. Iwaizumi? No, he would always greet you loudly even before he took off his shoes. 

With shaky hands and a racing heartbeat, you reach for a large kitchen knife and hide behind the door. Two tall men, one with light hair and a dark look, the other with red hair and an almost demonic appearance, stand in the room and look around.

“Does this guy have a wife?” Ask one of the two indifferently as he points to the unfinished food. “Looks like there’s got to be a little Oikawa wifey around here somewhere.” The other grins and begins to giggle.

A wonder they haven’t noticed you yet. You could swear that if they turned off the music they could hear your heartbeat. You can’t fight two men this tall, maybe it’s better if you try to escape instead of attacking them. But maybe they are friends of Oikawa who want to surprise him?

But how did they get into your house without a key? Annoyed, the gray-haired man presses his hands to the hip and exposes a shiny metallic object. Your blood is freezing when you realize this object is a weapon.

You have to get out of here, and as if your body understands what you’re trying to tell, your legs are moving. Your ankles are almost white, so tight you hold the knife in your hand to prevent it from falling and making a sound.

Almost arriving at the door, the relief is already painting in your face as the wooden floor below you begins to creak. Your eyes are getting big, and now you know you have to run. But your legs are not fast enough against those of the tall man who pulls you back into the house with a loud shout.

“Who the fuck are you?” The tall man behind you calls while he pulls you to his back. With the knife, you try to attack him but only manage to graze his leg. But it’s enough to let go of you.

“You fucking whore, man!” He yells, his gun pointed at you, but you don’t listen, because you just want to get away. However, you won’t make it to the exit, as a dull sound echoes through the hallway, followed by your body sinking to the ground.

“Tendou… Did you just really knock her out with a pan?” Skeptically he looks at the red-haired man, the hands on his leg with the slight flesh wound. “Yes, of course. What were you gonna do? Shoot her in the leg? Come on, she’s a lady. So don’t disfigure her.” Smirks Tendou, and swings the pan back and forth in his hand.

“So what? We’re supposed to take Oikawa to Ushijima, not some woman.”, “Buuuuut, this isn’t just any woman. That’s Oikawa’s wife, and she’s cute. I’m sure Wakatoshi will like her. Maybe the idiot will pay his debts faster if he knows we have his pretty wifey.” The redhead interrupts him with a broad grin and squats down to lift your flaccid body.

Your head pulsates with pain as you open your eyes and try to straighten up your body. Everything is dark, only a moldy, metallic smell lies in the air. The floor below you feels wet and crumbly. Like you’re on a muddy underground.

Your clothes are already soaked and stink of a mixture of concrete, soil, and moisture. Where are you? In the dark, you grope along the wall until you reach a cold, iron door. From outside, you can hear the voices that you had in your head recently.

Just as you want to lean even closer to the door, you can hear the hinge clicking, how it is snapped up and you land on the floor. “Come with us.” Says the gray-haired man grimly, who now wears an improvised, sloppy bandage around his leg.

Motionless you sit on the floor and look at the two men puzzled before Tendou reaches out to you. “You’ll be fine. So come on.” Your body acts against your mind as you reach for his hand and he pulls you up with a jerk.

You walk up to a huge, imposing mahogany door with golden accents as the fierce man opens it next to you and the three of you enter. Just to meet a man who sits focused at his desk and writes something.

“What do you want, Tendou?” Without even raising his head, his deep voice fills the room. “You know, we didn’t find Oikawa, but we have something much better. His beloved wife.” Tendou hums happily as he steps forward. “Oh? So… What am I supposed to do with a woman? I can’t do anything with that thing.” He hisses indifferently and frowns.

The words ‘I told you’, are written in the face of the gray-haired man as he looks at Tendou, shaking his head. 

“Then you bastards can finally let me go!” You shout to the two men and try to get away from their grips when Ushijima looks up to you in amazement. He does not know whether it is the sound of your voice or this angelic but also fiery charisma, but somehow you seem to have awakened his interest in you. 

Maybe it’s because you belong to Oikawa and don’t belong to him. After all, Oikawa, for reasons inexplicable to Ushijima, hates him. Probably because he could never defeat him and had to admit that he would have taken a better, more successful path if he had gone with Ushijima.

It’s Oikawa who has a lot of debt to Ushijima, not the other way around. So what would happen if he took away the most important thing in his life? He’d have nothing. Right, his world would break in pieces.

But whatever it is, he can’t keep his eyes off yours. “This is Oikawa’s wife?” He finally says and puts the pen out of his hand to stand up and walk in your direction with quiet steps. Now that he’s standing in front of you, a cold shudder runs along your spine.

He is a real appearance as he stands so large and broad in front of you, his eyes sharp as a freshly sharpened knife. With an annoyed sound, he lowers his gaze, his big, cold hand on your chin, forcing you to look at him directly.

Only a few steps separate you from each other and you sense how a masculine, strict cologne flows through your nose. “Yeah, she’s quite pretty, but also cheeky, isn’t she?” Tendou giggles and looks with narrow eyes over to the gray-haired one, who rolls only displeased with the eyes.

With his fingers, he moves your face back and forth, brushes his thumb over your mouth, checks you out, before he lets go of you and looks at his friend and best man Tendou. Shortly after he takes his thumb off your mouth, you feel a metallic unpleasant taste on your tongue. Almost like the taste of fresh gunpowder.

What is all this about? Why are you here and what were they talking about earlier. What is Oikawa involved in? And worst of all, why didn’t he ever tell you? After all, you are his wife. 

“Maybe she’s good for something. Perhaps he’ll pay his debts when he knows his wife is with us.” Ushijima clicks his tongue, turns around, and sits back in his chair. His debts? “Tooru has no debts! We are doing well. We bought a wonderful house!” You respond to him with a trembling voice.

“Oh yes? And how do you think he managed to raise the money for your house? Believe me when I tell you he’s in debt, or not. Apparently, he doesn’t care about you enough to share his dark secret with you.” He says monotonously, looking back at the paper on his desk.

“You’re lying!” your screaming voice sounds, which is provided with a touch of insecurity. Because you don’t want to believe this man. “Hey, don’t yell at our boss like that, you stupid bitch!” You had almost forgotten the gray-haired man when he looked at you grimly and stepped in front of you.

“Don’t call her that, Semi. She must have a name, right?” Even if he still doesn’t look at you, you sense how the question is directed at you. Stubbornly you press your lips together as if you want to signal them that you won’t tell them anything, but then you see Semi moving his hand towards his weapon and open your mouth. “Oikawa…. Oikawa Y/n…” you answer with a little resistance in your voice.

“Good Y/n, Semi will take you to the guest room next to mine and clean you up. Dress her up and then lock the door behind you if you leave her alone.” He just wants to say something about this task because he obviously doesn’t like you, but he stops since he doesn’t want to contradict his boss.

“Come now.” He just hisses annoyed, while he grabs you roughly by the arm and pulls you out of the room, into a spaciously beautiful room, with a large bed and a wonderful wardrobe. Pictures decorate the walls, the light on the ceiling is so bright that you forget to stand in a room without windows.

Violently, Semi puts you in a room connected to yours, so you’re standing in the middle of the bathroom. “Take off your clothes.” You feel his hand in your back pushing you to the shower with a shovel.

“I’m not gonna undress in front of some creepy guy like y-”, “Shut up, little doll! You’re nowhere near the first woman I see naked, so stop acting like that, and start taking your clothes off, or I’ll rip them off of your body!” He stops you loudly and grabs your wrist to pull you against him and roughly tear on your top.

“Stop it!” you roar and bite him in the arm with all your strength. Angry, he shakes you away from himself and wants to pull out his gun when a hand from behind stops him. “Hehe, what’s going on Semi Semi? Are you mad that there are also women who don’t spread their legs when they see you?” Tendou chuckles, who steps out behind Semi’s back.

“You take care of that bitch, I’m gone.” Without even looking in your direction, he turns around and disappears, followed by a loud bang of the wooden door.

“Come on, sit on the bed.” Tendou tries to calm you down and puts himself a piece away from the door frame to let you through. You don’t know why, but he seems to be the nicest one here so far, so you nod and follow his instructions.

Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you hear the door open again, and next to Semi now Ushijima, their boss comes in. Directly, Tendou takes a step away from you and pursues his boss with his eyes, who sits next to you, with a gun in his lap on the bed.

Right away, you start to hold your breath because you’re sure he’s gonna kill you now that you’ve disfigured his colleague. With his free hand, he brushes a strand of hair off your face and clamps it behind your ear to then pull your face in his direction.

“You know, Y/n, I don’t like it when someone attacks my men. No matter how pretty and innocent that person may be. But neither do I like it when my men don’t handle women properly. Believe me when I tell you nothing will happen to you as long as you stick to the words of your master, your daddy. Do as I say, and you and your pretty face are safe with me.” he breathes to you with his deep voice that makes your whole body shudder again.

“Tendou, I’ll leave her to you. Do what Semi couldn’t do. Next time I come back in here, I want her done for me.” are his last words before he leaves you alone in the room with Tendou.

You’re supposed to be ready for him? What is this man up to with you? “Hey, don’t look like a deer in the headlight.”  Tendou’s laughing voice gets you out of your mind. Humming he moves towards the cabinet and opens it to push the hangers back and forth. “I think this should fit you.” Happily, he turns to you and holds a beautiful set of lingerie in his hands, purple fine lace, with black leather straps and a short silk gown.

You’d think it’s beautiful if you knew you were wearing it for Oikawa, but you’re supposed to be wearing it for another man? Now you can also guess what Ushijima meant when he said you should be ready for him.

Suddenly your eyes fill with tears and before you know it, these are caught by Tendou’s thumbs. “You heard Wakatoshi, you’ll be fine as long as you do what he wants. Believe me, he would never hurt you. He’s a good man, so come with me. I’ll give you a nice warm bath, leave the door open, and wait for you in the bedroom.” He smiles and brings the clothes to the bathroom.

The water comes out loud from the tap and fills the bathtub as you walk carefully towards Tendou. “Why are you being so nice to me?” You want to know from him. “I have no reason to be mean to you.” You hear his voice and how he checks with his finger if the water temperature is good. “The water’s good, so clean up and put your clothes in the hamper over there, the maid will take the laundry and clean it so you can get it back. I’ll wait outside.” 

As he said, he leaves the bathroom door open but doesn’t look your way. Thoughtfully you look at the lingerie and after a few moments get out of your wet, musty clothes to get into the warm water. The warm water kisses your body, your eyes get heavier and before you know it, you close your eyes and listen to the sparkling foam.

Uncomfortable you go into the bedroom, even if you find yourself beautiful in this lingerie and it fits surprisingly well as if it was made for you. But knowing that another man sees you as your beloved husband makes you want to throw up.

“If you get hungry, knock on the door. If Wakatoshi is not in your room, I’ll be in front of it. Water is next to your bed. Well, I’ll see you then.” Without even looking in your direction, Tendou says goodbye to you and leaves you alone in the room.

Shortly after you hear the door closing, you look around hastily to see if you have a chance to escape in this windowless room. Next to the bathroom door and the front door, there’s another door that leads to a room you don’t know. But of course, this door is locked, so you are looking for an item that may help you escape. Even here, in vain.

Crying, you crawl into a corner and slump on the floor, knees tightly pulled to your chest. Why didn’t Oikawa ever tell you anything? Why didn’t he trust you? Could it be that this man was right and you weren’t enough for Oikawa? No, it can’t be!

You don’t know how much time has passed since only this ceiling light illuminates the room. But the clicking of the door makes you twitch. Tired, you lift your head and see blurred, how a large, strong person enters the room. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He sits down in front of you, looking into your swollen face as he presses a cold metallic object against your chin and makes you look into his eyes. “Ah, ah baby girl, look what you’ve done with your pretty face. It’s all swollen up.” Full of fear but also hate you look him in his dark olive eyes. He’s a handsome man, yet you hate him for taking you away from your husband.

“You don’t have to look at me like that. It’s your husband’s fault you’re here now, not with him. But don’t worry, you’ll soon think of other things than your husband. The bed, lie on it!” He commands bossy, and quickly straightened up.

But you just shake your head. “Don’t be silly, baby girl.” His deep voice enters your ears, and even before you can open your mouth, you feel the chilly opening of his weapon lying on your temple.

Instinctively, your eyes fill with new tears running warmly down your cheeks, and your body moves against your will to crawl on the bed. “Please, I didn’t do anything.” You beg him because you just want to get out of here.

But he gives you no answer, just looks at you with his indifferent look, the gun in his hand at all times, while he gradually lets his clothes slide to the ground. Freed from his clothes, he stands before you, a few scars drawing his perfect muscular skin.

Even though you’ve been crying all the time, your eyes only burn more when you see how huge his member is, which still hangs flaccidly between his legs. It’s not even erect, yet you know it would never fit into you without hurting you.

Sobbing, you look from this massive thing between his legs up into his eyes that send out anything but warmth and ask him to let you go. “Stop talking so much. Use your sweet mouth and suck on my cock just like it should be for a good baby girl. Show your daddy that you’re worth treating you well.” 

His words make your stomach twist, you get unwell as you look at him in disgust. But it was stupid of you to think that you could defend yourself against such a tall, strong man. Because just as you’re trying to shake your head, you feel his cold hand burying itself in your hair and pulling you roughly forward, the other hand with the gun to your temple.

“Suck it!” His patience has disappeared when he angrily gives you this command, presses his limb literally into your whiny face. Afraid to hear the trigger go off, you open your mouth and start to put his cock in your trembling mouth.

You just have the tip in, when you realize that it is much too big for you so that you’re about to throw up. Fearing for your life, you still try to stick it in, but quickly realize that you are beginning to choke and fresh tears appear in the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh? Does your beloved Oikawa have such a tiny cock or why would you have problems with gagging after not even half of my dick?” His words are accompanied by a deep, barely audible laughter as he plunges his limb into your mouth with a jerk and makes you open your eyes full of pain and shock.

Reflexively, you support your hands against his thighs and try to prevent him from pushing his dick even deeper into your throat. His hand buried in your hair moves your head back and forth.

The only sound you hear is your sniffing, your swallowing, and the increasingly audible groan of Ushijima, whose cock grows painfully fast in your mouth and makes you gag every time its tip kisses your palate.

“Your mouth does it so well, it takes my length so well. Let’s see if you can absorb and swallow daddy’s sperm as good.” He mutters one last time before he presses his limb full strength into your throat and colors it white.

Next to his dick, which still twitches in your throat, you feel the warm sperm, running thickly down your inside. Just when he hears you swallow his cum, he pulls his cock out of you and takes his hand off the back of your head.

Only a mixture of sperm and saliva binds you together before this thread tears and sticks to your chin. You look so cute, lying on the bed in his favorite lingerie, adorned with his cum, and looking at him like a lost puppy. 

But this wonderful view does not remain for long, because you turn around against his command and want to crawl away from him.

You want to get away from the man who used you as a toy for his desires. You feel disgusting, used. But again, you have to admit to yourself that you’re stupid, for just following your will.

Suddenly you feel an arm wrap around your waist and jerk you backward. As if you are smashed against a wall, your body lands on Ushijima’s chest. “Where are you going huh?” His husky voice is dangerously close to your ear as you feel his hand crawling under the silk coat and caressing the outline of your body.

“Oh? You don’t think that satisfies me, do you? Oikawa has a lot of debts. You’re husband and wife, so it’s your debt too. So if he can’t pay the debt, I guess you’ll have to take them over.” He adds indifferently as he pins you down on the bed, his chest still on your back so that you are prevented from fleeing. “Please, I don’t want to, I’m scared.” You sniff under him and keep squeezing your legs together, afraid of what’s about to happen to you.

“Don’t be scared, baby girl. I’ll make it fit.” It’s not just the gun you feel cold on your spine. No, you also feel Ushijima’s stiff cock on your back, as it painfully reminds you that everything that happens now will be unpleasant.

You just hated Oikawa for not telling you about the debt and getting you into this situation, even though you still love him. But how could he do this to you? Just leave you to a mob boss who will do what he wants with you or shoot you if you don’t obey him.

You feel his legs on your inner thighs and how they spread them with force, so that Ushijima can get better access to your most sensitive body part. With pleasure, he licks his lips as he begins to knead your ass and slowly work his way up to your walls.

“No, please…” You whine when you feel his fingers on your skin as they try to break up your walls to get into your entrance. Calmly, he savors your soft skin as he goes up and down, exerting pressure on your clit to then get back to your entrance to check if you are getting wet by now.

But to his dismay, you’re not. You try to prevent your body from feeling good, which is not difficult for you, as you are forced to do so, and besides this man is not someone you love. “How unsatisfying.” He just hisses displeased, takes his hand off you, and lifts his chest slightly, so that you take the opportunity to tear yourself away from him and crawl away.

In vain, because aggressively he pins you back on the bed now fully in rage, and constricts the air to breathe away, from behind. It’s almost as if he knows exactly when your lungs are starting to hurt and your vision becomes unclear when he reduces the pressure on your neck and after a few seconds his big hand loops around your tender neck like a snake. 

“Now I’ve had enough of you! I’ve told you I’m good to you as long as you follow my orders but apparently I have to show you where your place is!” He calls to you angry and presses with force his rock hard, massive cock into your dry entrance.

“Ahhh stop!” You scream in pain as you feel this thing aggressively getting in and making everything in you pound. Everything in you burns, contracts, pulsates, and hurts extremely. You have the feeling that he tears your womb into pieces and senses an unpleasant wet feeling spreading between your legs.

You know it’s not your juices, rather your blood, which promotes Ushijimas movements and helps him to penetrate deeper and more aggressively.

"Look what we did to you, if you’d listened to me, this would have been different.” You hear his strained voice behind you, as it makes you understand that here you are nothing but just a toy for him, which should obey him.

And you have to admit that if you want to get out of here alive with no pain, no visible wounds, you have to do what he tells you to do. Crying, you admit that your body is being used by a man other than your husband.

“You do it well, don’t fight back baby girl.” He praises you as his movements get sloppy and he pulls his cock out of you to spread his warm cum on your back. He proudly looks at his masterpiece before he takes a handkerchief from the nightstand and cleans himself.

Relief draws your face. While all of this seems to be over for today, even if everything in your body continues to hurt. Yet you remain anxiously lying down, as you do not dare to move and be used again by him.

But to your astonishment, you feel incredibly soft, warm lips on your shoulder blade lingering lovingly for a moment before they let go of you just to then caress your arm afterward. “You know, it doesn’t have to be like this if you don’t fight back.”, “Leave me alone!” Your voice is dull under the blanket.

“Well… until then Y/n.” One last time you feel his warm lips on your arm, as only a few seconds later you hear the door closing. Irritated, you turn around, only to find out that Ushijima is no longer there.

Deep breathing, straightening up, you pull your legs closer to your upper body and bury your head inside them.

“You know, Wakatoshi is actually a very great man.” All of a sudden you hear a voice that strangely gives you a sense of security, followed by a soft, slightly damp towel that gently moves over your back. 

With your eyes still slightly closed, you look aside to find Tendou looking at you with a wide smile and cleaning your body without even looking at your most feminine parts.

“You should be grateful he found something in you. Normally, he would take pieces of body parts from you. First a strand of hair, a finger, your tongue… Something every day until Oikawa pays his debts. But you seem to be an exception here. So don’t blame him for your husband getting you into this.” Even though his words are anything but reassuring, it is his look and tenderness with which he helps you get up into the bathroom.

"Do you understand how good he is? He lets you sleep here in a great room instead of locking you down in the dark basement. So be a good girl and listen to your new friend Tendou." He whispers in your ear with a slim grin, just before he leaves the room.

Still shaking, you let the warm water splash over your body, trying somehow to wash yourself clean and think about Tendou’s words. Somehow he is right, after all, it’s not Ushijimas fault. Oikawa is the one who lied to you, not him. Still, he didn’t treat you very kindly.

Completely torn back and forth, you go back to the bedroom, where Tendou has already re-made the bed and waits for you with a drink. “What is this, Tendou?” You ask him confused while he reaches out to you.

“Just a tea, that makes you sleep well.” He smiles and waits for you to drink the delicious-tasting tea. “Lie down, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With these words, he says goodbye and leaves you alone in the room.

You notice how your eyes get heavier, your thoughts blurred and how you suddenly collapse on the bed and fall asleep.

The next few weeks are just like your first day here. You don’t know if Ushijima enters the room every day to sleep with you or if he does it several times a day or just every few days because you don’t have a sense of time anymore.

No matter how many times you have to think of Tendou’s words, in the end, you try to defend yourself, and again everything hurts in retrospect. However, you hate your husband every day more for what he did to you and therefore feel increasingly connected to Ushijima.

It’s probably also Tendou’s words that subconsciously manipulate you. How precious you are to Ushijima. That everyone can see it and you will see and understand it as well when you finally give yourself to him.

Forget your scheming husband, who abandoned you. 'Cause, only Ushijima would be the man to please and protect you. 

Yes, it was Tendous words… Because the last time Ushijima sleeps with you, you notice how your body builds up less resistance. Ushijima knows it won’t take long before he owns you until you belong to him and not Oikawa.

Today you wear his favorite lingerie, the one in which he likes you in so much, in which he looks at you hungrily.

You’re just waiting for Ushijima to enter the room and do what he usually does to you. And when he finally enters the room, undressing wordlessly, as you go straight to your knees without resistance to take his cock in your mouth, he knows exactly that he has broken your will.

A barely visible grin draws the corner of his mouth before he approaches you and looks down into your eyes from above. “Get up. Not today.” Are the only words that come out of him while you look at him puzzled when he pulls you up by your hair. “Come with me.” He adds and points to the door, where you have asked yourself until now where this leads only to find out that this guides exactly to his bedroom.

A huge room with ground-level windows that provide a view of the snow-covered forest and a frozen river illuminate the room in an almost romantic atmosphere. It looks like the sun is about to set because the darkness is slowly coming out.

In the room is expensive furniture, a huge king-size bed, with gray-golden silk sheets. It looks so incredibly soft and the rest of the room just leaves you amazed, standing on a spot, until you feel a hand on your back moving you towards the bed.

You can feel his cold fingertips skilfully opening your bra and sliding down to the floor along your body, followed by your panties kissing the floor just seconds later. With a push, he shoves you onto his bed, which catches your body with ease and looks at you with fiery eyes.

“What do you think? Do we need it today?” His lust-filled voice resounds as he holds his cold weapon against your nipple and stares at you as he slowly strolls down to your entrance with the weapon and lingers there.

A feeling that you previously only knew at Oikawa, spreads within you. You sense the area between your legs getting wet from the cold metal, from Ushijima’s look when you pinch them together and a shudder runs along your spine.

With glowing cheeks you playfully bite your lower lip and shake your head embarrassed, your eyes focused on Ushijima’s. You don’t miss his quiet laughter when he looks into your beautiful, scattered face and knows exactly that you squeeze your legs together because you are only excited by the touch of his weapon.

That’s exactly what he wants to see, his baby girl begging for him and his cock, which only wants him and no one else. Not even her beloved husband Oikawa. Without you having to touch his cock, it grows along with the thought of making you his woman.

He would have liked to see Oikawa’s face when his beloved wife knelt for his rival without resistance, only to suck on his cock and milk him. But it is even better to know that you got involved with Ushijima, that you understand that you are his and he can take care of you much better than Oikawa.

He proudly puts the gun on his nightstand and pulls you by your legs to the edge of the bed to suck fervently on the inside of your thighs, to kiss them, and to work himself down to your entrance. 

His touches are like a drug for you, you can’t and won’t get enough of them. From these kisses that tell you he’s proud to have you. When you feel his breath on your wet walls, you shrug briefly and tilt your pelvis down. “Ushijima, that feels so good.” You moan softly and tilt your head backward as you startle with a slap on your sensitive walls.

“Ah, ah… Are you trying to be naughty again? Have you forgotten what to call me?” He hisses in a husky voice as his olive eyes come up between your legs and stare at you. “D- Daddy… Sorry, daddy…” you correct yourself and wait for the praise of Ushijima. “That’s my good baby girl.” He answers you with a grin and turns back to your walls.

His eyes are on your face as he circles his fingers around your entrance, slowly enveloping them with your juice, and watching you groan with the feeling of having his index and ring finger in you, the thumb on your clit to give you a benevolent feeling there as well.

“Daddy you’re so good to me!” You groan as you feel his fingers explore your walls and bend to meet exactly the right spot. How your cheeks gain even more warmth, your nipples become stiff and your body moves willingly, drives him crazy.

He still moves his fingers in you before he replaces his thumb with his lips and sucks on your clit, licks over it, blows against it, and starts sucking it again. “Come for me baby girl.” His voice vibrates on your skin as you feel the knot loosen inside you, your legs start to shake while squeezing his head, and your eyes roll backward. “Damn it, daddy I’m coming.” You groan as you push your pelvis further to Ushijima and cover his lips with your juice.

Without changing his expressions, he licks your delicious juice off your lips and pulls his fingers out of you just to leave a bitter void in you. He carefully inspects his fingers, which shine in the yellowish light of the lamp, and looks down at you as you lie out of breath with an open mouth in front of him, legs still shaking, beautiful for him to look at. 

“Suck on them, clean them up! Do what your daddy tells you to do.” You can feel his deep voice on your neck and how he puts his fingers in your mouth. Reflexively, you seek contact with his eyes as you begin to wrap your tongue around his fingers and suck loudly at them.

His gaze is razor-sharp as his olive-colored eyes look at you and enjoy the sight. “Tell me, baby girl, do you want my cock in you? Do you deserve it?” He wants to know from you while his fingers leave your mouth with a loud plop.

"Yes daddy, please give me your cock!" You’re begging him. This desire to absorb his length fully in you is so huge. Which only makes Ushijima happier, and makes him enter inside you piece by piece. 

Unlike the weeks before, he is so careful and gentle, making sure you don’t have any pain. "Nnngh…" You groan as you feel every vein of its length painfully spreading your inner walls. But the pain is different than usual, it is pleasant in an odd way. 

"Are you in pain baby girl? Shall I stop?" he asks rhetorically because he knows you don’t want him to leave a void in you again. 

"No, please! I want to feel your whole dick in my cunt daddy!" You say weeping and reach for his upper arms to stop him from going away from you.

Lovingly his arms wrap around your waist and pull you up so that he can get your delicate body just with one arm, holding you in the air, while his cock enters deeper into you. 

A prick spreads in your abdomen while you pinch your eyes together and bite your lip. "Nngh daddy your dick is too big…", "Oh? Too big for my pretty baby girl huh?" Interrupts his deep voice, just before he lays you gently on the bed and then squats in front of your entrance.

He gently caresses your legs before he spreads them with a little pressure, lifts them with his hands at your ankles, and presses his body against them to enter you with a loud murmur. 

Through this new angle, and by opening your legs so wide, his cock can enter you much more easily. He needs a few thrusts until his dick is wrapped in your juice and smoothly kisses your inner walls. 

With slim eyes he watches you as your breasts move up and down, his limb sinks into your sweet pussy, you lay awkwardly under him, not knowing where to put your body and the lustful feelings that want to get out of you. A sight that satisfies him incredibly and makes his member twitch in you. "Look, you are such a beautiful baby girl for me."

Even if you think it’s great that Ushijima praises you so much and gently touches your body, you want him to get rough and aggressive again. Because strangely enough, you have to admit that you find his rough nature as attractive and masculine and how he controls you.

"Ahh I want everything from you, show me you’re my strong daddy." You whine while tilting your head backward. "Oh? You want me to be rough with you? Well…" You hear his astonished deep voice as he begins to enter you faster and deeper.

"Nnngh so good, so good." You groan loudly at his sloppy, more aggressive thrusts, and feel his balls clap against your skin at every thrust. 

"Tell me how good it feels to have my dick inside of you Y/n." his husky voice sounds through the room, accompanied by the damp sound of your skin coming together. 

"So good daddy! Your massive cock feels so good in me, there’s no one who can fill me as perfectly as you!" You purr and push your pelvis deeper into the duvet to feel his limb even better in you.

With each powerful thrust, he hits just the right spot in you that takes you to the edge of your climax. 

"I wonder what he'd do if he knew you were with me right now." With a lustful look, he faces you while these words leave his mouth.

For a moment your eyes widen in panic because you have completely forgotten your husband. But what kind of husband is he, if he leaves you alone for weeks. 

"Tell me, baby girl, what would you do if he knew that you were with me and so willingly give yourself into me? Admitting that only I can really satisfy your needs, huh?" Hungry, his hand wanders from your ankle down to your neck and presses it lightly.

His big hand adorns your neck so beautifully. This feeling of power that is spreading within him, leads him to distribute his load within you soon. “I… don’t know…” You answer him, torn back and forth, since you would never want to see how broken and hurt Oikawa would be if he saw you with another man. But on the other hand, he abandoned you, lied to you, and Ushijima was the one who cared for you and didn’t kill you for the debts Oikawa has on him.

“I don’t think Oikawa would be so happy to see us here, huh? The way you so wonderfully wrap and squeeze around my cock. That feels so good baby girl. So tell me, who makes you happy? Who can make you orgasm?” He wants to know while he’s fucking your brains out.

You don’t know what to say anymore, you just know that your whole body is burning with lust, that this knot that has newly formed is tightening up harder as you know exactly that you will come any moment.

“Who, give me the name that makes you happy! I won’t let you come before you answer me.” Demands Ushijima, when even before he can finish his sentence you call his name. “Ushijima!”, “The whole name!” he orders again while slapping your breast, and again his name comes out under your trembling voice. “Ushijima Wakatoshi!” you cry out. 

“My name sounds so wonderful when you say it so needy. I’m going to shoot my cum so deep into your womb that you’re carrying my fucking kid Y/n Oikawa, or should I call you Y/n Ushijima from now on?” His voice is also getting throaty as his movements get harder so that you can’t hold back your voice any longer. 

Your walls contract and the knot in you, just like your mouth loosens and makes you roll your eyes backward in an incredibly benevolent desire.“Haaah Ushijima! I’m coming!” 

“Come for your daddy baby girl!” He growls almost animalistic as he accelerates his movements and presses his thick sperm into you with a loud moan. Out of breath, he collapses on you, his cock still twitches in you and remains there, so that his sperm stays in you.

Sweat drips down his temple, his skin sticks to yours, as you feel his breath loud and restless in the crook of your neck. The room, which had smelled so fresh earlier, now smells of sweat and sperm.

You feel so good with his warm body on top of you, his soft hair tickling your neck, and the loving kisses he spreads on your body while leaving little hickeys, to mark you as his.

But what you don’t notice is that Tendou, Semi, and especially Oikawa are standing in the door frame. Broken, his face dressed in tears he looks at you. His mouth glued with tape he tries to pull himself out of the clutches of the two men holding him. To get to you, to his most beloved precious wife, to tear you away from this monster. In vain.

But unlike you, Ushijima knew that Oikawa had been standing in the door for several minutes and watched him fuck his beloved woman. Taking the most important thing in his life will pay off any debt he owes. Having such a beautiful woman by his side is better than any money he can get.

“Get him down to the basement... and take the ring off of him. Because there’s no husband and wife Oikawa anymore. Y/n belongs to me… You’ll be a Ushijima soon.” His cold voice lies in the air as he reaches for your hand, pulls off the ring, and kisses you on the now-empty ring spot, his olive-colored eyes fixed on yours the whole time.

For a moment, you think you need to cry now that you know Oikawa’s heart has been shattered into thousands of pieces. However, these tears do not come. Without even looking at him, Oikawa is taken away by the men. 

Lost in your thoughts, you rub your thumb over the empty ring spot. But even before you can think about anything, Ushijima’s fingers make sure that you look him directly into the suddenly so warm eyes. 

“Y/n… You don’t have to be afraid anymore. No one will touch or hurt you, I’ll make sure of it. You belong with me now, my pretty baby girl.” His last words are so quiet that you can hardly understand them before he bends forward to give you a warm kiss that is full of love and passion, for the first time. “My pretty girl.” 

You don’t know if you would feel guilty if you looked Oikawa in the eye, or hate, or even feel nothing. But you know one thing…

You’re not Y/n Oikawa anymore.

#haikyuu smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #hqhq server collab #haikyuu x reader #tw noncon #tw force #tw gun play #tw breath play #tw violence #tw blood #tw manipulation #tw dark content #tw dark fic

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Anniversary Drabble: i miss u like ... a lot (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first! but this drabble can be read alone

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: One night until Taehyung is back from his boys’ trip but you miss him too much.

Genre: fluff, smut, kinda crack?, boyfriend/established relationship au

Warnings: unprotected sex (oc on contraception so don’t u do it), teasing over the phone, riding and grinding, just kinda vanilla i-missed-u-so-much sex, a particular selca

Word count: 5k

A/N: It was Heatwave’s one year anniversay on the 17th so I decided to write a quick(?) drabble for this. I fully intended on posting this on time, but wanted to change up some stuff so only managed to finish this now. Happy birthday to my first fic and forver my baby!

MOSTLY UNEDITED

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The absolute one thing you hate most about your boyfriend being away from you is your boyfriend being away from you.

You have never been the clingy needy type, that is more his role in this relationship, nor are you really one to show affection. In fact, you would hate for that false image to be perceived of you because all that sappy shit makes you want to throw up your dinner. But one thing you’ve learnt since Taehyung had gone away on a week-long boys’ trip down by the coast is how cold the house feels in his absence, despite being in the middle of a sizzling summer.

Everything is so eerily quiet without his random outbursts into song and fits of laughter. Having spent 3 years living together, you have gotten so used to his constant presence that you had even caught yourself several times calling out for him only to remember that he isn’t here. Waking up without his arm draped around your waist, slided up your top at some point during the night, impacts you more than you’d like to admit.

Are you glad that he’s having a great time with his friends by the beach, relaxing all day and drinking all night? Of course. Are you having a great time all by yourself over here in the absence of your boyfriend? Certainly not.

Though, of course, this isn’t something you would confess to out loud, especially to him. He doesn’t need to know how often the thought: ugh fuck, I miss Tete is crossing your mind, lest you want him to rub his smugness in your face.

It isn’t just that. Your relationship hasn’t been without its tests in the course of its years and things have only finally stabilised. It’s not that you don’t trust Taehyung to be with his ladish friends for seven days, shirtless dusk till dawn, intoxicated to the point where he calls you thinking that you’re the pizza delivery guy but…

A hammered Taehyung at a beach full of girls who are no doubt thirsting over him leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You trust him to be loyal to his core, but you don’t trust anyone else to keep their hands from copping a feel. No matter how you look at it, you would just so much rather he be at home with you right now.

You have endured this for six days. Six full days without Taehyung. Six full days with no sex, no tummy kisses, no clammy hand holding even though you’re only to get groceries. Just one more night and this torture will fucking be over, praise the lord. But you also don’t know how much more you can hold back that I miss you text because you’re combusting from the need to see him again.

It’s almost 4am. Your sleep schedule is fucked and it’s really his fault.

The bright screen of your phone offers the only luminescence at this hour. Your messages from him in the past week have not been shy of your daily dose of Taehyung - clips of the beach (always mischievously caption with something along the lines of “thinking of Mykonos ;D” where you went on your first holiday together), selfies that you dwell way too long staring at because you miss that face buried in your neck, drunk videos of the antics him and the boys get up to that you’ll definitely chastise him for when he comes back yet can’t help but laugh at. You find yourself scrolling through them every single night.

Your personal favourite: a pouty selfie he sent you after he dropped his ice cream, the picture you always go back to and the one you’re staring at right now. His hair is frizzy from the sea, lips jutted out childishly and cheeks puffy. Your chest constricts, fuck...

Just one more night, you remind yourself. And then he’s back and all yours again.

Then suddenly, the phone in your hand vibrates, short and abrupt. The bar slides down from the top of your screen reading New Message from Tete. Surprised, you scramble to open it, maybe a bit too desperately for you to be proud of.

04:11

Tete: bby

You blink at those three letters, lips pressed together because your heart is cinching.

Tete: ur prob aslep rn but

Tete: i missu

Tete: <334

The typos indicate that he is wasted, and you take a guess that he has just returned from their last night out of the holiday. The corners of your lips turn up knowing that he is thinking of you right now.

You: no im awake

Your fingers are itching to reply with i miss u too, and it takes all your willpower and stubbornness to stay true to your steadfast self. There is just something so unpleasantly moist about these kinds of texts, something that makes you cringe and gag when you read them. You refuse to be one of those people. A heart is all that you allow yourself to reply.

You: <3

You: r u drunk?

Tete: drunk in love

Tete: yes

A giggle escapes you at his god awful cheesiness - drunk, sober alike. Insufferable. But probably Taehyung’s most endearing quality.

You: did u have fun!!

Tete: yeah

Tete: but i miss u

Tete: more than i had fun

God, you feel like a teenager again, suddenly overcome with this gushing urge to roll over and scream into your pillow. You’re glad he’s merely texting this to you right now because if he had said this to you face to face, your skin would most definitely stain scarlet from neck to hairline, scalding to the touch. Even months into officially being his girlfriend, these curveballs of overwhelming affection throw you off guard.

Again, the compulsion to tell him you miss him too yanks at your heartstrings. You truly don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to say how you feel, let yourself be soft and vulnerable. You know it’s one of your flaws so it’s something that you’re working on, but you can’t say you’ve made much progress.

But just as you decide that maybe you should take the plunge, suck it up and just text him those three words, he sends you a picture.

Tete:

No, not just a picture. A selfie, of him in bed, shirtless under the covers. “Oh, fuck…”

Hand clasped over your mouth to prevent any sound from involuntarily escaping, it takes a moment for your breath to return to you and for you to stop gawking. At this hour… Really? Is he seriously doing this to you right now?

His sleepy eyes. His messy curls. And his fucking nose mole.

The undoing of your existence.

Tete: this boy misses u :]

You: bruh

You: bruhhhhhhh

You: taehyung

Tete: oui my lady :))

You: 👁👄👁

You: can u not do this to my heart

You: y did u send me this </333

You: what was the reason

Tete: coz i miss u

Tete: do u like it

Tete: :D

‘Do u like it’... Actually, you have tears in your eyes, albeit mostly due to staring at a screen for too long so late at night, but it’s certainly contributed by this selfie. You tell yourself you’re acting out because it’s been six days since you last saw him. Perhaps Taehyung Withdrawal Symptoms is the explanation behind why you want to print and frame this picture because that is definitely not a normal reaction to a picture. But this is a masterpiece.

You: taehyung my soul left my body

You: like i could weep

You: u look so soft and fluffy

You: :’(

Tete: lollll

Tete: simp

This boy has some nerve?! Simp! He called you a simp?! Laughing like a maniac, you can’t even pretend to be mad at him, not after this picture he sent anyway. So you guess you are a simp. This selfie is your kryptonite.

Tete: jkjkkkkk

You: hahahaha

You: y r u doing this to me

You: its 4am

You: u can’t send me this rn

You: i won’t be able to sleep

Tete: o yeah how come ur still up?

Tete: go to sleepppp

You: can’t sleep

Tete: aw no whyyy

Because you miss him that’s why.

You miss Kim Taehyung. You miss Tete. You miss your boyfriend, your best friend, your other half. You miss his touch, his smile, his wide eyes when he’s confused. You miss his morning snuggles and late night kisses. You miss the way he hugs you from behind as you prepare your meals. You miss the wandering hands that he can’t help when you’re out in public. You miss playing PUBG together until the sun comes out then both sleeping past noon. You miss taking baths together where bubbles would get into your mouth as your kisses get heated.

You just miss him.

It’s only been six days and you’re in this state. What has he done to you?

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you let out a great sigh and deflate. No other reason offers itself for you to be awake at this hour; he knows you cherish sleep above anything. Teeth digging into your lip, you inhale long and hard, then exhale the gust of your cowardice. It’s not that deep, stupid. Fuck it.

You: coz

You: i miss u

You: like … a lot

You: 🙄

It’s final - you guess you’ve become a mushy wet sap. Truly it is embarrassing how big of a step this is for you; but the sense of pride and accomplishment feels oddly validating. Baby steps. The eye-rolling emoji right after is subconscious because you could only betray the core of your character that much. Forgo it and taehyung might not believe that it’s you.

Tete: omg

Tete: :D

Tete: rrly?

You: *blank kissy emoji*

Tete: wow

Tete: u actually don’t know how hard i’m smiling rn

You: simp

Tete: ofc that’s my middle name

Tete: i miss u a lot too

Tete: like a lotttttt

Tete: i’ll show u how much when i’m back

Ah… Of course, the Taehyung specialty - smothering you with his affection. You freeze at the thought of his wildfire kisses and head between your thighs. Nothing screams of how much you’ve missed each other more than a good dicking down, climax after climax until you’re both panting messes of sweat and entangled limbs. The anticipation makes you squirm under the sheets, legs pressing together.

You: pls do

You: i need u

It’s uncertain what spirit has possessed you at this ungodly hour for these words to come out of you. There’s an instant flash of ickiness, but you let the self-cringing simmer and dissipate into the realisation that this is okay, this is normal. Taehyung’s your boyfriend, couples text like this. You need to grow some.

Tete: fuck baby

Tete: i’m so not used to u texting like this, it's driving me crazy

You: crazy how *cat smirk*

If you weren’t smiling before, you’re definitely grinning like an idiot now. His reaction is predictable, yet oddly still, an incredible wave of satisfaction hits you. And because you want to savour this moment, maybe give him a taste of his own medicine, you send him a picture of yourself.

Camisole strap slid off your shoulder, hair splayed out, bottom lip deep red from biting down on it too much. Just to return the favour.

Tete: y/n

Tete: call me now

-Incoming call from Tete-

Laughing to yourself, you wait a good few seconds before picking up to prolong his torture. “Yes, Taehyung?” You put your thumb between your teeth to suppress the laughter.

“Fuck.” Against the silence of the night, the low rasp of his voice permeating into you from the speaker of your phone sends tingles up your toes. You’ve fucking missed his voice more than you thought. “Y/N… You can’t do this to me.”

“I told you, I miss you. Like… a lot.” The saccharine tone in your reply is foreign to your own ears, but you like the sound of it and the deep rumble it elicits from your boyfriend.

“How much?” Taehyung eggs you on. His words are barely slurred, so you gather that he has sobered up at least for the most part by now. Yet there is still a slowness to it that suggests

“Hmm, like… I touched myself every night at the thought of you a lot.”

A sharp inhale. Then silence. But you know better so you give him a moment to gather himself.

“You shouldn’t be putting that image in my head.” Exasperation is evident in his voice, desperate and yearning. You can imagine him now, one hand on his phone, the other sliding over his pants that are getting a bit too tight for comfort. Your breath hitches.

“Then you shouldn’t have sent me that picture, Taehyung…”

“You said it was soft and fluffy. What you sent me back was not soft and fluffy.”

“Just because it’s soft doesn’t mean it doesn’t turn me on. You do things to me… okay?” Heat trapped beneath the skin of your cheeks, your grip on the phone against your ear slackening as your thighs rub together.

“Fuck, I’m getting hard, baby…” Nothing gets him going more than the knowledge that he turns you on, it’s his weakness but somewhat his strength.

“That’s… unfortunate. Are you going to do something about it?”

His gulp is audible even over the phone. “Uh…” A sigh. “Um. Maybe. Thoughts are being thought.”

“What kind of thoughts? Thoughts about me touching myself and moaning your name? Thoughts about how much I wish my fingers were your cock thrusting so deep into me that I feel it in my guts? Or are you thinking about what you’ll do to me when you’re back tomorrow? Fucking my mouth until I’m crying or filling me up with your cum first?” Your hips buckle at the filth leaving your mouth. This is more like you; you haven’t abandoned your nature after all.

“Oh, fuckkkk.” His moan resonates into your skull, not quite as if he’s here with you but good enough to fill your desire. “Y/N… I need you so badly.” Breath ragged, you hear movement of his sheets in the background as he adjusts into a more comfortable position.

“Are you stroking your cock right now?” A warm slick oozes out of your own entrance. There’s something about Taehyung masturbating to you that elevates you to a different kind of high.

“What do you think, baby?” As you listen closely, you hear the slow rhythm of his pumping, and your fingers ache to pleasure yourself. ‘The things I’ll fucking do to you when I’m back.”

“Mmm, but it’s late, Taehyung, why don’t we go to sleep.”

“Wait, what?” The stroking stops instantly and surprise in his voice releases a smug satisfaction into your veins. The equivalent of pouring a bucket of ice water over his head right now. Teasing is an old undying habit, what can you say? “You wanna end the call now?”

“Yeah, we should sleep, babe.” Grin unsuppressed, you turn over onto your side, probably a bit too pleased with yourself at your success. Taehyung is an easy victim always.

“What the fuckkk?” Your boyfriend groans. “You’re seriously going to tease me this hard then leave me high and dry?” When you offer no more response than a sly chuckle, he add, “You’re so evil.”

“Save it for tomorrow, Taehyung. Think about it, we’re one sleep away from seeing each other again.”

“Fuck, I know. But you just got me so fucking horny, bruhhh. I thought we were gonna have phone sex.” You are still laughing at his whining, basking in the victory you��re holding over him.

“Taehyung, save it for the real sex.” The idea of phone sex crossed your mind several times to be honest, but you really want to collect every single drop of desire and longing and unleash it tomorrow. Raw and pent up. Nothing to dampen the fire.

A sigh of defeat down the line. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know?” You know. “How am I supposed to sleep now though? I’m so rock hard that it hurts.”

“You can figure that out yourself, big guy.” Your cheeks ache from smiling for too long; they often do during calls with him. “One sleep away, okay?”

“Ugh, fine, you demon. I can’t believe you sometimes.” He lets out another sigh. Your heart skips at the anticipation of how he will punish you for this. “Good night, I miss you.”

“Good night, I miss you more.” There’s a sudden change of tone with these words. Because you truly mean it. Sex and physical intimacy aside, you really just missed his voice, his banter.

You fall asleep almost immediately.

.

You don’t think you’ve heard a sweeter sound than the keys rattling at the door the next day. Practically leaping off the couch where you had been awaiting him in your Taeyhyung-less boredom, you run to the door.

As it swings open, heat courses to your chest when your eyes land on his, so full of comfort. Your boyfriend is home. Handsome as ever, much more tanned than your memory of him and much more attractive. White t-shirt and loose black shorts, a mundane outfit that only he could make look exceptional.

And as much as you want to sprint up and throw yourself onto him, your feet stay planted on the floor.

“Hey.” You barely breathe out.

Stay calm and composed, you tell yourself. It was only one week without him, it’s not like he’s returning from war.

But Taehyung doesn’t even reply, because in two long strides he is standing before you, bags tossed to the side, a sign of their insignificance in the presence of you. His arms find their home circled around you, face buried in your hair before you can utter another word. You don’t hesitate to return his embrace, holding his waist as you let yourself fall into his chest. He smells like what summer should, the ocean, sweat and young love; his familiar musk greeting you as if he never left.

Your lips meet his, strong and full of intent. He’s so unexpectedly soft when he kisses back, a timeless romantic dance like he is saviour your taste on his tongue.

With your weight leaning on him, he slowly topples back, stepping hastily until your bodies land on the couch. You fit your legs on either side of him as you burrow your nose in his neck and breathe him in, memorise him. In nothing but a large shirt, your bare thighs are exposed for his roaming.

When you pull away and face each other, you are struck by his beauty. His skin is sun-kissed and glowing, hair an effortlessly beautiful mess, the slightest hint of a stubble peeking through below his nose. Your heart belongs to him forever, you know it without a doubt.

“You smell so good. I missed you so much, baby.” And his voice… That deep baritone honey that you have taken for granted all this time - music to your ears.

“Imissedyoutoo…” You mumble, shy under his undivided attention and mercilessly unbroken eye contact.

With your chests pressed together, his chuckle rumbles into you. “What was that?”

“I missed you too… I guess.” Face flaming, you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye at your admittance, fingers twirling around his curls to preoccupy yourself.

But he cups your chin and turns your face to him, forehead pressing up to yours until your noses are touching, breaths mixing. “That’s not what you said last night.” Taehyung smirks, hands sliding down to your waist, the material of your shirt bunching up in his hands. “Do I need to remind you?”

“No…” You find yourself unable to keep your eyes open, your core pulsing mercilessly as you grind onto him. “How are you already hard, Taehyung…” And though you mean to scold him, it comes out breathless.

Lips hovering, he traces the edge of your jaw, tingling the sensitive little hairs on its way to your ear. When he reaches the shell of your ear, warm breath infiltrating so relentlessly into you, you almost lose yourself right there on his lap. “Don’t you know how much I love you?” He whispers.

“Show me.” Is all you make out.

His hands are already beneath your shirt before you even notice, palms kneading into your breasts as he takes your nipples between his two fingers and rolls. As he kisses you again, the same tenderness exchanges between your lips. It’s a different kind of desperation to be so slow and gentle, one that means so much more than sex, one that’s telling of how much you truly missed each other. Your hips roll with a mind of their own over him. One hand of his comes down to your ass, guiding the waves of your rocking. And each time his stiff clothed member digs into your clit, you whimper into his mouth.

Carefully, Taehyung rolls you over onto your back, sucking your bottom lip to keep the seal from breaking. He pulls away when he’s on top of you, and a string of glistening saliva bridges between your mouths. “Foreplay or no? Tell me what you want?” Compliant as ever.

“I need you to fill me up right now. Anything else can wait.” You watch the devotion ignite in his eyes. His fingers are in a hurry as they pull your panties off, knees spreading your legs open as he kneels between your gaping entrance. He tugs his shirt off from the collar, such smoothness in his action that your insides coil up. His newly-bronzed rich skin revealed, you can’t help but reach up and run your hands down from chest to navel, revelling in his blemishless ridges.

A low sound reverberates from the back of Taehyung’s throat as your touch travels down to unbutton his shorts. They fall loose. His hard throbbing members springs free, a glistening bead oozing from his slit. “You didn’t wear boxers?”

When you glance up, you notice his sheepish grin. He presses his mouth onto yours, still smiling, guiding you back onto your back. “I just couldn’t wait.” Taehyung whispers. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, especially since last night… Ah, fuck.” Another deep groan erupts from him as you reach down and slather that bead of precum all over his tip. His head falls onto your neck, writhing under your merciless stroking.

His tip brushing against your clit, your toes curls at the teasing of your weakness, hips jolting up involuntarily and perhaps a bit too violently. You’re so embarrassingly sensitive after this many days without Taehyung, and he notices from your breathless reaction. Smirking, he takes his shaft in his hand and runs his stiff head over your clit mercilessly. And as you roll your head back helplessly, he nibbles onto your exposed neck, faint stubble grazing your skin.

“Quit the teasing…” You whine, unable to withstand the build up of twisting pressure begging to be fulfilled between your legs. “Just put-”

Taehyung pushes himself into you so abruptly that you yelp. And there it is, that mind-melting stretch of your walls that you’ve so much missed. “Fuck, Taehyung…” Your entire core feels ablaze, so numbing that your nails dig into the leather of the couch before they find grip on his arms.

“Like that, baby?” His voice his strained, as if he’s struggling not to lose his mind as well.

Nodding because you can’t make out a word as he slowly pulls out, you grab his face and pull him up to meet your lips. You whimper into him mouth when he rams into you again, hitting your walls in full force, no mercy. His kiss doesn’t lose its sincerity despite the juxtaposition of his vigorous thrusts, though you can’t say that he is quite as gentle with as before. You pinch his bottom lip between your teeth, sucking on it as your fingers get lost in his hair.

After seven days of deprevation of his cock, your cunt is leaking with the fluid of your arousal, aiding in the ease of each plunge. You feel the stiffness of his ridges pulling you open as he slides in and out of you. “Fuck…” He pants, mouth hovering over yours.

“Let me get on top.” Taehyung’s eyes flash at your suggestion, instantly rolling onto his back. He slips out during the switch of position and the wetness of your cunt is assailed by a sudden rush of cool air.

You swing your leg over and mount him, watching him watch you pump his dick, your own liquid slathered over him sticky in your hand. Letting his member fall against his abdomen, you grind over him between your folds, hands splayed out over his chest. The friction created each time your clit would slide over the thin pinch of skin where his tip unfolded into his shaft has Taehyung a groaning mess.

He looks remarkable under you.

You push his sweat-dampened curls out of his forehead, eyes half closed in euphoria, half watching you roll your cunt so lewdly over his length. You know you could make him cum like this if you continue. But you want him to cum inside you first, you want to feel that thick hot spurt of his desire shoot again and again into you until his cock is twitching.

So slowly, lubricated by your wetness, you sink inch by inch down until the skin of your ass meets his thighs. This angle fuck with your mind; you think you feel him at your cervix. Then your hips start to do what they know best, pounding over him with a rhythm that you’re proud of.

Taehyung grabs hold of your waist, your breasts, fury in his eyes as he watches you ride him with such determination. “I love you so much.” He heaves between heavy breaths.

“I love you, I missed you more than you could imagine.” You huff, thumb running over his red swollen lips.

“I love when you admit it.” He sits up and takes the swell of your breast in his mouth, making his way to your nipples where his tongue relentlessly flickers over.

Your thighs are starting to burn, core aching because his cock is thrusting up into you so deep that you feel it in your guts. The signs are appearing - your vision is going hazy, walls squeezing tightly around him, tangle upon tangles knoting in your stomach. His are too - his head is slumped against your chest, arms crossed behind your back as he holds you close to him, whole body starting to tense as he begins to curse.

Pace quickening, you don’t let the tire of your muscles stop you from your chase. The slap of your skins ringing in your ears, you keep riding, cunt swallowing his cock whole each bounce. Taehyung breaks first. “Fuck!” He calls out into your neck. His cum squirts into you, pulse after pulse, your boyfriend’s hips jolting each thrust.

“I’m so close, babe, keep going for me.” You plead, knowing how sensitive he is right after his climax. He nods wordlessly, face still buried in you hair. The lubrication of his cum abolishes any resistance, letting you slide over him easier than sitting down. And not five thrusts later, your own coil snaps. You through your head back at the wave of pleasure that drowns you, your entire core on fire as your moans echo through the room. It takes maybe twenty seconds for your walls to stop throbbing and for the orgasm to slowly die down.

Taehyung is already growing limp inside you after his orgasm. “Thank you.” You whisper against his forehead while you dismount. His cum flows out of your slit and down the insides of your thighs, but he refuses to let go of you.

When he looks up, you are struck by an overwhelming sensationf of adoration. His long dark curls fall slightly over his eyes, in disarray but just the way you like it. His eyes are so full of genuine love and gratitude of having you that you can’t help but capture him with your lips. “No, thank you.” He mumbles against you, falling back onto the couch with you in his embrace.

After a long kiss of after-sex affection, you pull away before it leads to a second round. “I want you to know that I really missed you a lot. I can’t even call you a big baby anymore because I stared at all the pictures you sent me every night till the sun came out.”

Taehyung’s boyish smile melts your heart. You’ve missed him way too much. His smile, his goofy comments, his tender kisses. “My heart… is squeezing…” If his smile doesn’t tell how smitten he is, his eyes definitely do. “I missed you so much too. All the boys made fun of me for being such a wettie ‘coz I couldn’t shut up about you.” The thought is so endearing that you can’t help but hide your face.

“So how was your trip? Plenty of hot girls drooling after you?” Trick question of course, you know that for a fact already.

“Haha, it was good, fun. Bet you couldn’t sleep ‘coz you were trembling from jealousy.” Scoffing you land a smack on his chest. “But nah, no hot girls. Nowadays there’s only one hot girl in my eyes.”

Your own lips spread like a cheshire cat. “Shut up, cutie.”

“Rachel McAdams.”

“Let go of me. Don’t even touch me.”

.

A/N: Moral of the story, never sit on their couch if you’re a guest at the Heatwave house.

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24/08/20

© Copyright 2020

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[iliveiloveiwrite]

Late Fees // D.M.

Summary: Draco moves to a sleepy village after the war, wanting some time away. To keep himself busy and his mind occupied – away from the terrors lying in wait – he volunteers at the local library. There, he meets all sorts of characters. Mrs Taylor who has a love for trashy romance novels, Mr. Roth who is more than happy to be left alone with his books, and you.

A/N: A Librarian AU that absolutely no-one asked for.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, mentions of nightmares, flirting, pining, cuteness

Word count: 7k (this got away with me)

The sleepy Yorkshire village never changed. Perhaps that is what Draco liked so much about it. Routines established and set in stone; everyone knew everyone and what they did every day.

The decision to move to Yorkshire from Wiltshire had been made overnight. Draco had sat through another painstakingly awkward meal with his barely-keeping-it-together parents and decided that he had had enough. Draco had returned to his room; hands shaking as his mind raced through the pros and cons of his decision. He needed to leave; he had to – he was injuring himself further the longer he stayed, yet he had nowhere to go. The Malfoy name was not one to be greeted with open arms and warm smiles.

He had chosen Yorkshire for the fact that other than Neville Longbottom; he didn’t know of anyone from there. With Neville training under Professor Sprout at Hogwarts, Draco had high hopes that he would run into the Gryffindor there. He was not yet ready to confront the sea of apologies he owed Neville.

So Yorkshire it was and Yorkshire it is.

He had moved in the spring; the fields surrounding his sleepy village finally turning green after the winter’s frost, fresh blooms on the trees lending the air a floral scent. The house in which he chose was relatively smaller to that of which he was used, but that was what he wanted. He wanted a complete change from what he had grown up; from what he was accustomed to. Draco needed to shake up his life entirely and his three bedroomed cottage in the Yorkshire Dales would do just nicely.

It takes six months for Draco to become bored of the same routine. He wakes on the couch after another restless night, he makes his first coffee of the day as he cooks his breakfast and then he leaves the house. He tries to spends as much time as he can outside; believing the fresh air to be doing him the world of good as he follows the well-worn paths through fields and forests, the temptation to get truly lost almost too much as he ambles aimlessly.

It takes six months for Draco to give into the desire to find something to do. He needs a job, he tells himself. Not for the money – no, Narcissa Malfoy had ensured he would be set for life when he moved out. He needs to a job to keep his mind occupied; to keep his body busy and his mind on other topics so he doesn’t continue to focus on everything that happened before. The Second Wizarding War had destroyed so many lives, and he bitterly regrets the part he played in destroying those lives. The survivor’s guilt mixed with the guilt by association is a nauseating concoction that leaves him unable to sleep, paralysed with the fear of what his mind could conjure once his eyes slip closed.

The sighting of the job advert in the window has Draco feeling as if all his Christmases have come at once. It was on his daily walk through the centre of the village that he sees the sign hanging in the window of the small library. A place he hadn’t yet ventured for fear of the silence, but a place he would happily enter if it kept him somewhat busy.

He had rushed inside; striding quickly up the small ramp and grabbed the ‘Volunteers Needed’ sign from the window, barely stopping himself from slamming it down onto the counter.

It was almost laughable; his desperation for the job, but he didn’t know how long he could continue the same mind-numbing routine. He didn’t know how much longer he could explore the forests of Yorkshire and not want to scream; he had seen vista after vista, his breath stolen at some of the views, but he wanted something else. He needed something else.

The grey-haired lady behind the counter jumped as Draco cleared his throat. “Morning dear,” She greeted, “How can I help you?”

Draco pushed the sign across the counter, “I’d like to volunteer with the library, please.”

That had been that. Madge, the elderly librarian, was wanting to retire. She had been a volunteer with the library service for nigh on forty years; her love for books something else entirely as she dedicated her life to lending them to others. After a brief conversation over the role in which Draco would take, she had given him his start date and that was that.

Draco had left the small library feeling lighter than air. The usual pressure upon his shoulders and behind his eyes barely there as he sprinted home; wanting to write a letter to his beloved mother to tell her of his news.

-----

The library was situated in the centre of the village. On its left sat the only pub, a large building that exuded nothing but happiness as it opened at noon on the dot. On the library’s right was one of the few general stores – it held everything. In his first few weeks in the village, Draco found himself spending his money there rather than travelling to other towns and cities. It had everything he could possibly need.

From his position at the desk, Draco had the perfect view of the village green along with the sole church in the village that catered to nearly every single resident. Day in and day out, Draco sat happily at his desk, sorting through returns and library catalogues as he ambled through the aisles when he needed to stretch his legs.

It wasn’t a large library. He felt certain that the library at Malfoy Manor was twice the size of the one he finds himself standing in now, but nevertheless, he appreciated this one just as much. Books had been his solace for much of his life. The library at the manor becoming his safe space at the age ten to the age of twenty. He had never worried when he was there; he could find an escape in the pages of an ancient tome explaining the histories of spells and charms, or he could find solace in one of the risker muggle books his mother kept hidden away from his father.

He doesn’t need to spend too much time inside to know he loves it. It was an oddly shaped building; octagonal with a shoot off where Draco’s new desk sits. The shelves line the walls; each one titled clearly with its genre and then books sorted alphabetically by author. The building itself was just over a century old; having seen two world wars and survived to tell the tale like many of the residents of the small village.

As Draco wanders the library, running his fingers over the spines of much cherished books, he knew he was going to be very happy within these walls.

-----

Draco meets Mrs. Taylor on a Wednesday morning a month after he started working at the library. It had not been a very busy morning; Draco spending most of it going through the ancient catalogue system and wondering whether it would be worth it to apply for a grant with the local council to get a computer. He’s thinking of his very first day in the old library, staring at the shelves and shelves of loan records when a loud cough breaks him from his daydream.

“You must be Madge’s replacement?” A feminine voice chimes: there’s no hint of the Yorkshire accent that Draco has come accustomed too in his time up north. Her accent is southern, but whereabouts, he couldn’t place.

He smiles politely at the grey-haired lady. “That I am,” He confirms, “I’m Draco. How can I help you?”

The elderly lady doesn’t reply. Instead, she rakes her eyes from Draco’s face down his body, leaving him feeling like a piece of meat rather than a living and breathing human. She must like what she sees, Draco thinks, as she smiles broadly, stepping closer to the counter. She holds a hand out to Draco, expectant in his taking of it. Draco shakes her hand once before letting it drop as she introduces herself, “I’m Mrs. Taylor, dear. I’ve been visiting this library for nearly forty years now.”

Draco blows out a puff of air; impressed with Mrs. Taylor’s dedication to the library. “So you’ll have known Madge well then?”

“Oh yes, but I can’t help but wonder whether I’ll get to know you just as well too.”

Draco reels back at the obvious meaning to her words. He raises a single eyebrow at her tone, replying carefully, “I plan on being in the village for some time. I’m sure you will see me around.”

Mrs. Taylor nudges her rounded glasses further down her nose; resting them on the tip, “I hope I do.”

Not knowing what else to do, Draco laughs, “How can I help you today, Mrs. Taylor?”

Disappointment evident in her tone, Mrs. Taylor drops a tote bag onto the counter. The bag is full to the brim with books; all returns for Draco to sort through this afternoon. He has to resist the urge to give Mrs. Taylor hope in the form of a loud kiss on the cheek; she had just sorted out his plans for the afternoon to keep his mind deliciously numb from the panic that had started to creep in once more.

“These are all to be returned, lovie,” Mrs. Taylor states, pushing the bag closer to Draco in the effort to get their hands to brush like in the romances she adores so much.

“Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. Will you be taking anymore out while you’re here?”

She laughs; her hand on her chest as if Draco had asked the most ridiculous question known to man. “Of course, I always take out new books. I shall see you in a bit, lovie.”

Mrs. Taylor toddles off, her red polka dot skirt swishing with every step. Draco shakes his head, amused by the older lady before getting to work on her bag full of returns.

It takes three books to realise the genre Mrs. Taylor enjoys reading. He catalogues romance novel after romance novel; each with a title that leaves very little to the imagination. Seducing The Viking and Romancing The Cowboy make their way to the returned stacks as Draco continues to work on the bag of books.

The more books she returns, the more he gets an insight into Mrs. Taylor’s mind. Draco has nothing against romance novels; he’s read a fair few in his time, but he had never read books with titles such as Taming The Pirate and Teasing The God.

Hurriedly, he makes a mental note to visit the romance section of the library to get a peek at any further books with such titles. He could see exactly what the appeal was; half naked men with ripped abs on the cover promising romantic liaisons in the rudest of manners. He understood why they were so popular despite having not ventured into the genre himself, preferring classic romances like that of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

Mrs. Taylor returns to the desk; her arms full of new books to read. At the sight of her struggling, Draco rushes out from behind the counter, “Let me get those for you, Mrs. Taylor.”

“Oh… thank you, lovie,” She responds, smiling, breathless from the walk around the library but also from the weight of the books.

Draco leads Mrs. Taylor back to the desk where he spies the title of the first book in her large pile. Bewitched By The Billionaire stares up at him as he writes out the title and stamps the return date in the designated section of the book.

To help, he places all the newly borrowed books back into her tote bag, smiling politely at the grey-haired lady as he does so. “There you are, Mrs. Taylor, I hope to see you again soon,” Draco comments, handing her the full bag of salacious books.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Draco,” Mrs. Taylor croons; hoisting the tote bag full of new books onto her shoulder. She waves at him so flirtatiously that Draco cannot help but respond with a wave of his own as she leaves the library.

He feels amused long after the pensioner leaves; her overly flirtatious manner and her taste in books providing Draco his afternoon entertainment as he returns books to shelves and goes through catalogue records, trying to make some sense of the librarians that came before him.

All too soon, however, the light of the day fades behind the clouds as the sun sets. Draco releases a shuddering breath, going through his routine for closing up the library – making sure all records are locked away along with any money. He locks the door behind him, pulling down the shutter and shoving his hands into his jean pockets, setting off up the road in the direction of his home.

He dreaded this part of the day. In the daylight, he could keep himself occupied with the shelves and shelves of books, organising and recording. He could keep his mind busy, away from the terrors that lurked on the sidelines – waiting for the moment in which they could invade.

That moment is always comes. Draco tries to avoid it as much as he can; does anything he can to stave off the inevitable, but it always arrives, and it always catches him off guard.

Tonight, it’s as he’s sleeping. He’s pulled from a nightmare; scream lodged in his throat so tightly that his throat aches from the power of it. Tears trail down his cheeks as he tries to catch his breath; tries to slow his heart rate to an acceptable rhythm.

Draco looks around his bedroom; counting whatever he sees. Two bookshelves, one dresser, one wardrobe. He counts them all over and over again until his mind has cleared of the paralysing terror he had just experienced.

Nightmares came often. They started after the end of the war, and for now, it seemed like they were here to stay. It was never the same one, however. Draco had experienced so much trauma through the events of the war that his mind constantly replays them like a film; choosing a select memory and letting it play as he sleeps.

He settles his face in his hands, counting to ten as he inhales and exhales. He has to calm down; he cannot focus unless he calms down.

What feels like a lifetime later, he pulls his face from his hands, letting the inevitable wave of tiredness wash over his body. His body is tired; it’s dead tired and screams for rest, but his mind. His mind is awake and it’s restless. Draco sighs heavily, glancing at the clock on his bedside table, noting the early hour and knowing he would not be able to sleep anymore.

He flips on the light to the bathroom, turning on the shower before getting a look at himself in the mirror. skin pale save for the shadows under his eyes; whilst his sleep pattern had improved since moving away, there were still nights where Draco struggled to get more than three hours sleep. He tugs off his t-shirt, his eyes running over the pale pink scars that could not be wholly healed by Snape and Madame Pomfrey. The curse he had been hit with was brutal; only to be used on the worst of people and he understood why now. He had healed wonderfully; only a few scars remaining, but it would take longer to recover mentally from what had happened. His most common nightmare revolves around the pain he felt after the duel in the bathroom.

A shive runs through his body as he steps into the warm spray of the shower. Lavender is his body wash of choice as he squirts a large glob onto a sponge. He refuses to think as he washes himself; refuses outright to think about a thing other than what he needs to do next. Now you need to wash your hair Draco, grab the shampoo and wash your hair. Then you need to rinse off, Draco.

He talks to himself, getting himself through the aftermath of the nightmares just like he has always done. He brushes his teeth before leaving the bathroom; hoping that the spearmint of the toothpaste will overcome the acrid aftertaste of the scream that was lodged in his throat for Merlin only knows how long.

Draco dresses robotically; going through his list in his head to make it easier to cope with the fog that feels like it will be staying with him all day. He gets downstairs, only managing a cup of tea before deciding to head out.

The brisk walk to the library has Draco’s mind starting to clear. The early morning air tied with the frost has Draco startling awake even further, rejuvenating the blood in his veins and making his steps faster.

He barely looks around on his walk to the library; too used to his surroundings to be in awe of the rich landscape around him.

It’s why he freezes when he spots you.

You stand outside the library; breath nothing but white puffs in the air as you huff into your hands, trying to warm them up. You feel someone watching you; startling slightly when you catch Draco’s eyes on you.

You smile at him, “Please tell me you’re opening the library.”

Draco nods; holding up his keys as evidence, “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long. Fifteen minutes at the most.”

“That’s not so bad if the weather wasn’t this cold,” He comments, unlocking the shutter and then the door, turning back to face you, “Are you coming in or what?”

You come back to life; dragging your eyes from the lithe figure of the man before you to meet his eyes with a sheepish glance, “Let me unfreeze and I’ll follow you.”

Draco laughs, he truly laughs. He opens the door to the library; glad to hear your footsteps following close behind him. Draco doesn’t take off his coat, he heads straight to the desk where he counts down the seconds for you to join him.

Timidly, you hand him your return. He takes it from you, automatically flipping to the record at the front of the book. “It’s two weeks late,” He comments; eyes wide, voice aghast.

You purse your lips, “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”

His eyebrows raise in shock, “How could I not notice that when I have to check the return dates?”

You shrug, “I’m not sure, but is there any way I can get out of the late fee?”

“What?” Draco asks, voice loud and in shock once more.

“I’ve never returned a book late. This is the first time this has happened,” You defend, crossing your arms across your chest.  

Draco hesitates, chewing on his bottom lip. He had seen the late fees waived before; had seen Madge’s notes in the columns of the records, but he had never waived a late fee before. He watches you; noting your body language as well as the dark shadows under your eyes that reflect his.

He nods twice, “I’ll waive the late fee this time.”

“You will?” You ask, your voice breathless, your eyes wide in shock.

“Yes, I will.”

“Thank you,” You say; repeating the words over and over as you smile widely at him.

Draco waves away your thanks with a motion of his hand; he’s simply happy he could bring a smile to your face.

With another smile, this one smaller – more genuine, you gesture towards the shelves, “I’m going to find something else.”

Draco nods, “Of course. I’m here to help if you need anything.”

You nod your thanks, turning from him and heading towards the stacks of books. Draco watches you walk away, unable to truly comprehend the conversation. He should have charged you the late fee; he knows he should have, but he took one look into your eyes and knew that he wouldn’t be charging you much of anything.

Clearing your throat, you bring back Draco’s attention. He smiles at you, “Did you find something?”

“I did. I’ve had my eye on this for a while,” You reply, holding up the cover to a fantasy novel, “I’m glad it’s finally available.”

Draco smiles, taking the book from you. No words are spoken as he records the borrow along with the date it needs to be returned. On a whim, he underlines the date twice before handing it back to you. You tuck the book in your bag; smiling gratefully at the blonde haired man before a laugh escapes your mouth,  “You’ve met Mrs. Taylor, haven’t you?”

Draco averts his gaze; feeling the familiar blush creep onto his cheeks, “How did you know?”

You point towards the stack of romance novels behind him, “She’s the only one in the village to read them. Madge would order them special for her to save her travelling to the next town.”

Draco feels oddly touched on behalf of Mrs. Taylor; that Madge cared that much for her to order books to save her travelling so far. He smiles softly, “I’ll have to see if there’s any new that have been published to save her reading Seducing The Viking again.”

You snort, “From what she’s told me, that one is her favourite. She would love you very much though if you were to order some new novels for her.”

“I’ll have to have a look into it though she might love me already.”

A fond grin makes it way across your face, “She’s a regular flirt, but she means well. If you’re ever in a pickle, it’s Mrs. Taylor you need.”

“How long has she lived here?” Draco asks; curiosity getting the better of him.

“All her life. She was born here in the forties and never left. She met her husband, had her family and that was that. She was settled. She’s like the village’s grandma.”

“She sounds like she has lived a whole life,” Draco murmurs, hoping slightly that the elderly lady would pop into the library today so he could hear some of her stories. It makes him miss his parents bitterly; they had their mistakes, but they loved each other wholly with a passion entirely encompassing.

“She has,” You utter, “I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you…”

“Draco,” Draco supplies.

“It was nice meeting you, Draco. I’m (Y/N).”

“It was nice to meet you too. I hope to see you soon… minus the late fee.”

You laugh once more; promising him that there would be no more late fees. Draco watches you leave once again, shouldering the bag on your arm. You tug your coat tighter against your body, shivering against the bitter cold air.

As he watches you walk away from him, Draco briefly wonders how long it would be until he saw you again, and just how much he was looking forward to it.

-----

Three weeks later and the library is the busiest it had ever been. Not only does Draco have a slew of new orders to get ticketed and on shelves, he has three people wandering the shelves.

Mrs. Taylor returned first; her tote bag once full to the brim of her returns. She had shamelessly flirted with Draco some more, stating that it was his grey eyes that did the trick. She had never seen eyes like it. Mrs. Taylor grasped Draco by the cheeks and kissed him on the forehead when he showed her the new delivery of romance books. At one point, Draco swore he saw tears in her eyes as he let her delve into the new books.

Then entered Mr. Roth. Mr. Roth was a man he had only met twice in the whole time Draco had been working at the library. He was a man of few words; happy to keep to himself and his demeanour reminded Draco too much of his own grandfather. A man he had only met a handful of times yet knew he was happy to never meet again.

Mr. Roth nodded at Draco in greeting before making his own way to the military history section, browsing the titles silently and happily. Draco had left him too it; too nervous of Mr. Roth’s reaction should he be asked for any help.

For a time, it was those two. The both of them milling about the library, adding more books to their pile to be read.

However, they are soon joined by Madge herself. She smiles widely as she enters the library; rushing over to Draco to sing his praises for how well the whole place looks. Draco blushes something silly at her words; he hadn’t heard much praise through his life, had needed to for the perfect mould and was disciplined when didn’t. For Madge to praise Draco over the care he takes with the library, it isn’t something he’s likely to forget anytime soon.

Madge leaves Draco after that. She dawdles through the shelves, knowing the exact layout like the back of her hand. She spies Mrs. Taylor by the romances and Mr. Roth by the history section, but she herself, heads towards the classics. Having read them all multiple times, Madge was always happy to revisit her favourites whether it be Pemberley, Wuthering Heights, or Thornfield Hall.

All the while, Draco couldn’t help but hope that you would walk in through the door. He had met you once, spoken to you once but he longed to see you again. Twice now he had seen you walking past the library; earphones in and nodding your head to whatever song you were listening to. He had raised his hand both times, waving to you. You waved back, smiling gently to him.

He didn’t want to tempt fate; didn’t want to harbour feelings for someone he had only met once, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling deep within his gut that you were going to mean something to him one day.

If only you would enter the library.

----

It takes another week.

It’s another week of wondering and wishing. It’s another week of nightmares and early starts.

At this point, Draco has been living in this sleepy Yorkshire village for a year. He celebrated by working late at the library; organising new stock and creating a new display depicting the best reads of the month as voted for by the residents of the village. He had unashamedly added Mrs. Taylor’s newest favourite book at the top; that alone had earned him a wet kiss on the cheek.

You enter the library on a slightly warmer day in March. The month had begun frigid and frosty, but now closer to the middle, it seems that spring had finally taken its hold of the village.

You enter with yet another sheepish smile on your face, an apology already falling from your lips as you hand Draco the late book. “I know it’s late,” You ramble, “But I really haven’t had the time to sleep never mind drop it off considering the commute to work and back and the weather.”

Draco stops you by raising his hand, “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

You chew on your bottom lip, “Are you sure? I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine. You don’t need to pay the late fee either.”

“What?” You ask; hand already reaching for your purse.

“You don’t need to pay the late fee.”

“Why?”

Draco sighs, “Can I be honest with you even if it’s only our second time talking to each other?”

You nod wordlessly; nerves beginning to settle in your stomach in response to whatever could come out of his mouth.

“You look like you have a lot going on right now. You mentioned the commute to work and back, but you also look shattered, so I get it. I get what you mean when you haven’t had the time.”

You blink, the familiar burn of tears starting at the back of your throat. “You get it?”

Draco nods, “I get it. I know what it feels like to be so tired you feel like doing nothing else. I don’t know why you’re so tired, and you don’t have to tell me, but if you need to talk, I’m here.”

He’s stretching his neck out. It’s only the second time he’s spoken to you, but he doesn’t like the way the shadows under your eyes are looking. They seem to suck any happiness out of your face, leaving you almost gaunt looking.

“Can I repay you?” You ask suddenly; voice determined.

“What? Why? How?” Draco asks in a barrage of questions. He doesn’t need repayment; he would never ask for such a thing in the first place.

“You’ve shown me kindness. Can I repay that?” You state; voice clear as it rings out across the empty library.

“How?” He repeats; still unsure as to just how you would repay his kindness.

You glance at the clock; it had barely past ten am. You smile at Draco, “Would you like a late breakfast?”

It takes him less than ten seconds to answer; of course he would join you for a late breakfast. Draco grabs his coat; scrawling a sign for the door stating that he would be back in less than an hour, but truthfully, he didn’t think anyone would be in today.

----

Breakfasts consists of a full English rounded off with a pot of Yorkshire Tea. You argue stubbornly over brands of tea; yourself choosing Yorkshire as Draco opts for another brand.

Conversation never stops flowing; any silence is filled with a question or a story that always seems to lead to laughter either from Draco or yourself. Draco sits through the whole breakfast with a smile; he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. He had spent such a long while dealing with the guilt he harboured for surviving a war he was on the wrong side of.

It’s over this breakfast that he realises he needs to tell you. He needs to explain to you who he is and why he is here. Draco could talk to you all day long about tales from his education and his childhood, but they would all continue to be half-truths if he never told you about the magic that flowed through his veins and made him capable of incredible things.

Walking back to the library after breakfast, he resolves to tell you if he sees you again. You hadn’t taken out another book so he doubted he would. However, the small voice in the back of his head and also resided in his heart hoped that you would so he could confess.

-----

Draco does see you again. You start to frequent the library; wandering the aisles in search of your next read but also to spend time with Draco. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him fascinating and handsome, but he had an air of mystery around him that you were desperate to get to the bottom to.

A friendship forms. The both of you finding yourselves better matched for each other than anyone else; becoming close and confiding in each other when things seem darkest. You confide in him your deepest secrets, explaining the nightmares that hide behind the dark circles under your eyes. Draco confesses much of the same, but his desire to tell you about the magic he can wield remains on the tip of his tongue, turning more bitter the longer he waits to tell you about himself.

He tells himself excuse after excuse: it’s too soon, it would scare you off, he isn’t ready. In actuality, he is ready, and more than enough time has passed for the relationship to be so firmly cemented that it wouldn’t scare you off.

Yet he panics, and it keeps him up more often than his nightmares. How does he tell the one he’s closest to that he can form light with a whisper of a single word? That he can brew potions to not only heal but to incapacitate?

He hasn’t neglected his magic whilst he’s been in Yorkshire; he’s used it well enough. To dry himself off if caught in the rain, to send books back to their shelves if he’s comfy in his seat. However, he has always been wary of his talents around you, too worried about being caught out and destroying the one positive friendship he has had since he was fifteen years old.

Draco needs to tell you. He knows he does; he’s let his feelings get in the way of confessing who he really is and what he can do. His feelings for you hadn’t crept up on him; he had constantly been aware of his changing emotions. As the friendship progressed, he found himself wanting to reach out and take your hand randomly or wanted to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and then stroke your cheek. These hadn’t been the ponderings of someone who held platonic feelings; they were entirely romantic, and Draco wanted nothing more than to pursue that option with you, but he didn’t know how you would feel after he confessed his magic.

Truthfully, he didn’t want to tell you because he didn’t want to see the fear and disgust in your eyes as he had so often seen reflected in the eyes of witches and wizards around him. To see that in your eyes, it wasn’t something Draco could ever be prepared for.

How long could it last though? How long would he have with you before you sniff out the lie and the friendship falls apart from there?

Draco ponders these questions as he tidies up the library; new books on shelves along with freshly returned ones. The two questions float in his mind as the late afternoon turns into the evening and Draco readies himself for closing.

He startles slightly as you enter the library. You look lovely this evening, and everything Draco wants to tell you sits perched on his lips, waiting to be screamed into existence.

“Are you ready?” You ask, leaning forward on the desk.

“Ready? For what?” Draco questions, confusion lacing his tone.

You frown, “We’re eating at your place tonight? You told me to meet you here and we’d walk there together?”

Draco’s eyes widen as he suddenly remembers the promise he made you last week; to cook for you one evening so you could eat something other than pasta and noodles. “Of course I remember,” He covers, laughing nervously, “I was just messing with you.”

Your frown deepens, “If you don’t want to do this Dray, it’s okay, we can reschedule or something.”

Draco shakes his head rapidly from side to side. “No!” He all but shouts, “Let me grab my coat and my keys and we can go.”

You laugh; feeling the awkwardness that had quickly settled between you, “Are you okay, Draco?”

Draco nods: gulping as he herds you out of the door so he can lock up. “I’m fine, I just have something important to tell you tonight.”

“Tonight?”

He nods once more; the words stuck in his throat. The decision had been made; he would tell you tonight and then deal with the consequences afterwards.

The walk to his home is silent; nerves settling in both your stomachs as minds run into overdrive over what could be said tonight. Draco – terrified for your reaction. You – terrified for what he has to say, wondering nervously whether your feelings for the blonde had been too obvious from the beginning and he was going to put an end to your friendship.

It didn’t matter how often you visited his home; it would always leave you breathless at the sight of it. It had been a home you had admired for years, knowing the family that had lived there before Draco. They had moved to the next village over, wanting to downsize after their children had left home.

The large cottage had always been gorgeous but seeing Draco in a domestic element added more appeal to you. He takes your coat from you, hanging it up before doing the same, toeing off his shoes as he does so.

You expect him to lead you to the kitchen where you had watched him cook so many times before. An expert chef as demanded by his mother, you loved to watch Draco cook and bake. He could create marvellously tasty dishes from just a handful of ingredient – a talent you wished you possessed.

However, he doesn’t lead you to the kitchen, he leads you into the living room where he switches on all the lamps in the room without touching a single switch.

“How did you do that?” You demand, wonder and curiosity making your tone sharper than you intended.

“This is where I need to you to not lose your mind,” Draco whispers, his hand reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a long stick.

“Why do you have a stick, Draco?”

“It’s not a stick. It’s my wand. Hawthorn with a unicorn hair centre.”

You frown, puzzled, “A wand? As in a magician’s wand?”

Draco nods, “If you need to sit down after I tell you, I understand.”

“Tell me what?”

“I’m a wizard,” He states bluntly, no room for argument.

You laugh; it’s breathless from confusion, “I don’t get what you mean.”

“I’m a wizard. I have magic. I can turn on the lights in any room without saying a word or touching a switch, I can brew potions that heal injuries, I can fly a broomstick and I’m pretty good at it too.”

“So you’re a wizard and you can do magic?”

Draco nods, “Would you like me to show you?”

You nod wildly; the action sending your hair flying into your face. You push it away, not wanting to miss a moment of this.

Draco sends you a bashful smile as he holds his wand out, pointing it at a lone book on the coffee table beside the couch. In a clear voice, he calls, “Accio!”

In a single instant, the book flies across the room and lands in his outstretched hand. He holds the book up to you as evidence. Your mouth drops open; in shock at what you have just witnessed. Draco represses a laugh at the look on your face, knowing how hard it must be to comprehend all of what has been unloaded on you.

“Then why are you here? In Yorkshire of all places?” You ask, even more curious for his life in Yorkshire.

Draco sighs, “There was a war. I found myself on the wrong side and I saw too many people I know die. In the aftermath, when everyone was healing and starting to live their lives again, I couldn’t move on. I left home so I could start to heal and find myself, find who I want to be.”

“And have you now?” You ask; hope shining in every word.

Draco nods slowly, “I think I have. I think I’ve started to heal at last.”

“I thought you wanted to end our friendship,” You confess, your voice no higher than a whisper.

Draco steps closer to you; dropping the book and taking your hands in his. “Never,” He promises, then he takes a deep breath, “If anything I want more.”

“What?” You gasp.

Draco bites his lip, feeling the all too familiar blush creep its way up his neck. “I want more,” He repeats.

He waits for your response, desperate to know what you think about everything else he has just unloaded on you. You open and close your mouth a few times; words failing you. Draco starts to panic, starts to form the words to take pressure off you when you step forward and kiss him.

It starts as a gentle brush of lips, but then the pressure becomes firmer, and Draco starts to respond. He gathers you in his arms, tugging you tight against him as his mouth memorises yours and every whimper that leaves it.

Your lips part under his and Draco takes every opportunity to deepen the kiss; relishing every second of the kiss and the way you feel pressed up against him. Your hands find themselves in his hair; carding through the blonde locks before tugging gently, smiling against his mouth at the groan the action elicits from the back of his throat. His hands start to wander; memorising the expanse of your body as he dips you slightly, wanting nothing more than to lay you out on the floor where you stand.

He doesn’t. Instead, Draco breaks the kiss. Pulling away with one, two, three pecks to your lips, grinning widely when you chase him for more. “You don’t care that I have magic?” Draco asks, gasping from the kiss.

You shake your head; tears shining with happy tears, “I couldn’t care less. I thought you were going to end our friendship because you figured out my feelings for you.”

Draco reaches up; tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, “Never, darling.”

You feel your face flush at the use of your new pet name. Draco choosing then and there to refer to you only as ‘darling’ if your response what to be that every time.

He dips his head once more; kissing you for all that he is worth. Pouring every ounce of emotion he has in his body into this kiss; hands grip you tightly as your hands start to wander, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and skirting the flat plains of his stomach.

“One condition,” Draco whispers against your mouth.

“Name it,” You whisper, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.

He groans; low and throaty as he kisses you deeply, barely remembering to break the kiss so he can mutter, “No more late returns.”

The laugh that leaves your body has you shaking in Draco’s arms. He swallows your laughter with his mouth; silencing you effectively as he leads you back to the couch where he politely persuades you into no more late returns.

********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen​ @theweasleysredhair​ @harrypotter289​ @kalimagik​ @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @nebulablakemurphy​ @figlia--della--luna​ @idont-knowrn​ @birdie-writes​ @big-galaxy-chaos​ @black-lake-confessions​ @annasofiaearlobe​ @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​ @accio-rogers​ @starlightweasley​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @lestersglitterglue​ @msmimimerton​ @obx-beach​ @izzytheninja​ @slytherinprincess03​ @bbeauttyybbx​ @breadqueen95​ @acciotwinz​ @kashishwrites​ @slytherinsunrise​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @remmyswritings​ @xfirstfemale-marauderx​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @ria-rests-here​ @superbturtlemakerathlete​ @inglourious-imagines​ @ithilwen-lionheart​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @ilovejjmaybank​

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @minty-malfoy @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @fallinallinmendes @ochrythum @gryffindors-weasley @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @reaganwonders @lahoete @beiahadid @ravenclawbitch426 @detroitobsessed

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #Draco Malfoy

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

#fic: Give Me A Reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #my fic #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #Cassian x Jyn

[binniesthighs]

two tails | the series prologue | reader x minho

in which a chance encounter with your neighbor’s fluffy cat buds a romance when you least expected it 

Part One coming early January 

if ya would like to be on the taglist for when this series starts, send me an ask ♡ 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: a lil bit of everything!

Tags: neighbors au, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, skz side characters, slow burn, gradual romance, neighbors to lovers, friends to lovers 

Word/part count: tbd! 

Requested: by a lovely anon! 

Chapters now available! 

Start here ➡️ ONE 

[open me for the prologue]

The tabby cat yawned, stretching out it’s little white paws in front of itself. You would have thought that the poor little lost thing would have been much more panicked, but this cat was rather the opposite. It’s golden-brown eyes dilated while it studied you. 

“What am I going to do with you...” The cat’s fur was cloud-like between your fingers. “Clearly someone takes care of you...you’re not gonna tell me who?” 

The cat stared at you blankly and unamused. 

“Of course you can’t...you’re a cat...what am I saying.” 

The cat rubbed it’s orange cheek into the side of your hand, a thankful little sign of trust. 

“Nothing scares you, huh?” 

As if saying, yes, the cat’s scratchy tongue licked at it’s chops. 

“Hungry? I’ve got just the thing for you.” 

The aged wood flooring of your duplex groaned under your feet while you patted your way to your kitchen. The tiny modest place flooded with the late-morning light. Streams of light brushed past the windows lined with your garden’s menagerie of budding flowers. In her usual spot on the windowsill was your calico, Bomi. Her sleeping green eyes peeked at you lazily when you entered. 

“You’re not gonna say hi to our new friend, Bo?” 

Temperamental as always, Bomi chose when she wanted to recognize your voice. 

“Hope you don’t mind that I’m borrowing some of your food for then.” You scooped out some of Bomi’s kibble--a sound which made her twitch her ears. “I’ll leave you to your nap, princess Bomi.” 

Even flattery didn’t phase that cat. 

Once you had returned, the tabby had jumped up onto the edge of a chair overlooking your front lawn. The cat was unmoving and sphinx-like as it watched the cars roll past. 

“Here’s some food. If you want it.” 

The cat twisted it’s head back as if to say thank you. 

“You’re alright, Cat. Maybe I should keep ya!” You scratched behind it’s ears eliciting little purrs. “No...I shouldn’t do that. Someone’s probably looking for you right now.” 

Across the room, your TV hummed with the cooking show you had been watching before your walk. 

“Well...I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll just be...over there.” 

You slid back onto your couch, cuddling yourself up as tightly as you could into one of the sides. It was no wonder that you adored cats as much as you did when you were so similar to them. On your most peaceful days, there was nothing more that you enjoyed than reading or writing out in your garden, soaking up the sun, or your quiet nights with open windows, cicadas singing and fireflies dancing to their tune while you would wash your dishes. 

Never had you thought that talking to Bomi was strange. She was your only companion, even if she would begrudgingly accept your love. You couldn’t picture your quiet little life without her. 

The tabby loafed it’s body on the upholstery and you laid yourself down too. The constant droning of the chef on TV was the perfect lullaby to your sleepy eyes...

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Ding dong! 

“Hello?” His muffled voice seeped through your front door. 

You shot awake from your couch with a startled gasp, your socks had twisted themselves all around your feet making them look like little elf booties. Undoubtedly your hair had resembled a bird’s nest. 

The tabby stared at you with wide eyes and chirped as you approached the door. For a couple moments you fumbled with the obscene amount of keychains on your keys--many of them cat themed. 

“Can-can I help you?” You tried your best to rub the nap out of your eyes and patted down the knots in your hair. 

“Oh. Ahem Hi, I’m-uh, I live a couple houses down, I wanted to see if you had seen a cat around, maybe in your yard, it’s a tabby, they’ve got some white on their belly and their face...” 

There were other words that had escaped out of his mouth, but those easily slipped past you. What was startling was how he was really...pretty. You had never really seen someone quite like him that made you feel as such. There was something about him too that seemed a little cat-like: perhaps it was his chocolate eyes, or bouncy coca-colored hair. He wore silver wire glasses that framed his face perfectly. There was a cardigan draped around his elegant figure, and it pooled at his hands into little paws. 

“...have you seen them? I’m sorry to bother you.” He pushed his glasses up his nose bridge. 

“Oh! Sorry, yeah, I’ve--” 

The tabby yowled out, suddenly and proudly making its presence known.

“Doongie!” The boy gasped out, and promptly scooped the cat up while it’s legs dangled. “Thank you so, so much.” 

“It’s no worry at all, I have a cat of my own, so it was no issue. I gave them some of my cat’s food as well.” 

“Oh really?” His smile was just as pleasant and calming as you could have expected. “What kind? And thank you.” 

“Calico. I think that she hates me most days but what would I do without her, you know?” 

“Ahhh. That’s the life of a cat owner.” 

You chuckled out a bit. “Hm. Yeah, it is.” 

His face lit with realization. “Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself, I’m all over the place—I’m Minho. Lee Minho, from 2503.” 

“I don’t think that I’ve seen you around this neighborhood before?” You leaned into the doorframe. “Then again...I don’t get out of my house all that much...” You laughed aloud a little at yourself. 

“Me either,” He joined you. “Actually, I just moved back in with my mom, one thing after the other happens and living in the city doesn’t stack up too well...commuting is what works best for me now.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry...” 

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. It’s a lot nicer than I realized coming back home after being away for so long. She helps me with my cats as well. I have three.” 

“Three?!” 

He warmly laughed. “It’s kind of a lot isn’t it? For one person?” 

“No, no! If I could have more cats I would, but...the one I’ve got already is a bit of a handful sometimes.” 

“Maybe you could meet them one day...if you’d like?” 

Minho’s cat Doongie had settled into his arms cozily, tail swinging and a paw slung over his arm. 

“...Sure! But, I-I don’t want to impose--” 

“--Please, my mother would love for me to invite someone over. She already thinks I’m a recluse.” 

You cracked out a hard “HA” and Minho’s face flushed as pink as the petals from your yard’s cherry blossom tree. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that my mother thinks the exact same about me.” 

Minho nervously joined in your laughter. “Good to know I’m not alone.” 

Between both of you and the door frame, an awkward silence pervaded the air. 

“I-uh, should get going...but--you didn’t tell me your name?” Minho swayed his cat gently in his arms. 

“It’s Y/n.” 

“Ah...Y/n. I’ll...be seeing you around then?” 

“See you around.” You smiled to him as he clumsily attempted to walk backwards off your front porch. 

You closed the door after him, facing the tiny mirror nearby. You looked an utter mess, baggy eyes and hair looking as if it had survived a windstorm. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at yourself. 

meow? 

Bomi had sauntered up to you, then twisted between your legs. 

“Sorry Bo, guess we don’t get to keep the cat.”

Bomi licked at the hair on her leg, going right back to ignoring you.

“I...wouldn’t mind seeing them again.”  

#I’m just 🥺🥺 #petowner! aus absolutely MELT me #please look forward to it 💕 #stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #kpop drabble #stray kids drabbles #kpop imagine #skz angst #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #Lee Minho #Minho #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #minho x y/n #minho x reader #Lee Minho x y/n

[sly-merlin]

KILLING ME - 12 |n.y

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre :    angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : mentions of blood and brutality. For future chapters, major character death(s).

words : 

summary : “life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”                                  

or              

“  curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

A/n : this was supposed to be a longer chapter. The Tumblr was bring problematic since three days. This is not how the chapter was supposed to end but i couldn't post anything longer than this so i had to make changes to end it on a surprise tone like other chapters. I hope you still enjoy it.

Was he asking for too much?

His unsteady hand rose and fell, internal monologue stopping him from knocking on the door. Johnny wasn't sure how he even ended up outside taeyong's door. One second he was fighting with his thoughts and the next second he found himself jumping out of his car, almost ready to confront the person behind the door. 

He took a deep breath and was about to drum the wood when the door opened from inside, taeyong's sleepy figure greeting him instantly.

"John. Why are you here so late? Do you need something?"  from red pressed strikes on taeyong’s face, anyone would have guessed that he had been sleeping.

“Johnny! I’m talking to you.” he waved his hand in front of johnny’s distracted eyes.

“Huh” 

“Do you want something?”

“y/n.”

Your life was back on the wagon. Not truly but with a few exceptions here and there, it certainly felt like the old days. You were in chois on weekdays and took tuitions on the weekends. You met your friends while visiting the library and everything felt quite normal. Even with a few oddities, that being the five day training sessions with Jungwoo, some new people in your life, a residence that you felt happy coming back to, absence of someone that you’d never grown a liking for, everything was smooth. Just like before. The only thing you missed was some time. Time for yourself. Though you lived alone, which was a luxury nearing its end, you barely got a few minutes alone with your mind and that was something you craved more than the drink shoved in your hand at the moment. 

You loved your friends, without any doubt, but they lived with the bad habit of disregarding your feelings, feelings that said you would be anywhere but the restaurant you were sitting in. 

“y/n is going into hibernation again.” minjun’s voice broke your trance.

“What did you say?" You challenged him but he cowered in his seat and turned his focus on the soggy french fries instead. When he silenced, yugyeom spoke up, 

“Yo y/n. Don’t scare the child. Just drink away your sorrows. The wine is quite expensive here. If you are making me pay then at least make it worth it."

Suddenly, Jungkook's loud snorting caught everyone's attention as they all quietened, waiting for him to reveal the reasons for his action. Swirling his burgundy glass, he chugged the last bit of the drink before leaning backwards in his chair, relaxing himself.

"Now what's the drama with You" Yeong grumbled, clearly intoxicated. 

"She's already hammered" minjun giggled. 

"When are you going to invite us to your house y/n?" Jungkook chimed in, a smirk plastered on his blushed face. 

"Oh yes. Ms. Lawyer no more l-lives i-in the d-dorms." Yeong hiccupped, losing the grip on the bottle of soju. Yugyeom chuckled at her antics before snatching the bottle away to avoid any fuss.

"I also meant to ask you but you are never available for more than an hour or so. Are you doing alright" gyeom shifted his chair towards you while keeping a hand on his girlfriend's back.

You didn't know how to reply or what to trump up so they'd stop pestering you. However, you had no other choice than to continue with the streak you had started a few months ago.

"Of course i want to have you there but my roommate is very, how to explain, very bitchy. He got this corporate job and he-he works from home so I'm supposed to pretend like I do not exist and keep quiet. That includes no outsiders as well. It's gonna be like this for a few months i guess"

You mumbled the last part.

 You averted your eyes but didn't mean you could've escaped their intense judgemental gaze. You repeated the whole lie that you recited to arrange it in the box of deceit that you were filling since the commencement of these stories. Forgetting any of these would mean shattering their trust. And that was exactly what you were supposed to protect.

Once reiterated, you gathered how foolish the sentence was. Had it been said to you, there wasn't a chance of putting your belief in it. But your company was drunk enough to believe it; two of them were enough to carry the whole table.

"Wow. How horrible of him. We should take y/n with us yugy. She'd be happy and she can invite anyone." Yeong low-key let out a little drunk growl to press her point. 

Yugyeom cooed at her before replying,

"And where will you live? Our apartment has only two rooms and both are occupied. Where do you plan to settle down instead?"

His question made her think harder than she ever had in life as she picked at her jutted out lower lip. 

"Laundry room. You and me, will live in the laundry room because y/n needs a nice home."

"I already have a nice home yeongie." You took the opportunity, got up and reached out to pinch her cheeks, "but you won't know unless you are sober. Take her home, yugy. I'm also sleepy so I'll get going. See you on Tuesday." 

" It's already 11. Let me drop you home." Jungkook suggested, startling you.

"No It-

"Yeah you drop her. I'll take Yeong and minjun home but help me in carrying their asses to the car please." Yugyeom pleaded. He left the bills on the table and took Yeong in his arms. You expected jungkook to do the same but he passed minjun your shoulders instead,

"Wait for me outside. I have to call someone first." and he walked away, his lover grinning on your shoulder like it was the funniest thing in the world but you were fine as long as their drunken state saved you from some heavy confrontation. The only person left was jungkook and you had the perfect idea to dodge him as well. 

"So the same place or are you staying in the dorms this weekend?" He asked, driving out of the busy street.

"Just drop me at the nearest bus station. I'll ta-

"Nakamoto residence or the dorms y/n" you almost choked on the air as the word left his lips. Taking a bus home had seemed like the perfect plan but you had overvalued your common sense. Again.

"What are you talking about?" With hesitation evident in your voice, you muttered.

"Do you really think you'd go to a random house in front of me that I know nothing about and you'd be left alone without questions. I was there until the door was opened by someone. You really thought I'd have left you with a stranger. But i knew something was fishy when the receptionist told me that it's a home sweet home of Mr and Mrs nakamoto. Now spill before I get yugyeom to ask in his own way." He shifted the gears in frustration, your relaxed persona bothering him to no end. Getting jungkook wokred up wasn't a grunt work. He was like a matchstick, always ready to be ignited by any possible frictional surface. 

"It's not what you are thin-

"Don't lie please," he started, words dangerously polite, "If he's your boyfriend then there's no need to hide y/n. We would always be there to support you. When, how, why, i don't want you to feel pressured to answer me. Just because you go around with no commitment tag doesn't mean we'd judge you if you ever got in a relationship. We love you. Make us part of your life like we do. Can't we just expect that much." 

You gulped at how disappointed he sounded. He was right. You needed to include them in your life adventures but how were you supposed to explain him the riots you were dealing with. How were you supposed to spill everything without him getting his sword out. That would only lead to more troubles than you had the power to deal with. Trouble for you, him and for everyone who'd be passed that secrecy. 

So you begged, for some more time until you'd be more than comfortable to let all of them into your present life. 

Like every other word, this was also a lie that, in the first place,  you never chose to proceed with. 

He might have give in to you, but you knew eventually you'd have to muster up the courage to answer him and that day would decide another turn of your future. 

And you would make sure, inter alia, to shift the wheels in a more likeable direction.

“Use your fists!” 

Jungwoo’s grip was strong. His one arm was holding your waist and the other was around your neck. It was painful but you knew he wasn’t going to let go easily this time. This was the third consecutive scuffle or demo fight with him within the span of the last forty five minutes and having lost the last two, awfully at that, expectation of some mercy was not very demanding on your part. But only if he would grant that! You heard his chuckle as you wriggled in his hold. He was clearly having a lot more fun than you were. There was no way you could’ve applied renjun and hyuck’s advice but you still tried to follow their vague instructions.

“Bit his arm and turn.”

“No, don’t. Turn around and hit his torso with your knees.” 

Bit him?

Halting your movements, a low grunt left your lips as you lowered your body and pressed your teeth on his flesh. He screeched and immediately retracted his arm. Taking advantage of his loosened grip on your waist, you whirled around and raised your knee to strike at his upper body. In an instant, your hands fell on your knees and you inhaled a harsh breath, regaining your strength. Jungwoo, on the other hand, was curled up on the floor like a baby. You wanted to laugh at him but the more astonishing thing was the lack of any noise from your cheerleaders. Right from the start, they were rooting for you like you were earning them some hard cash and now that you had done exactly what they had wanted, they were silent. 

“Wha-

you opened your mouth to speak but their lack of attention held you back. Their eyes were fixed at Jungwoo,who still laid where he had landed. 

“What did you do?” renjun shrieked.

“Exactly what you told me to!” you replied with heavy breathing.

“We said torso!”

“Yes and i hi-

Mechanically your hand slapped your face as you noticed the position of jungwoo’s hands. You had, mistakenly, kicked him in the groin which only meant more trouble for you. 

“Save me.” you mouthed to hyuck and renjun while approaching jungwoo. 

“Sorry teacher.” you mumbled.

He remained quiet for a few seconds and didn’t make any movement. When he did, you took a few steps back, afraid of his wrath. Palms down on the mat, he sat up and with painfully quiet voice spoke up,

“Looks like you won. Good j-job. I think i need to visit the medical room. You can go and celebrate.”

“Does it pain too much” pointing to his crotch and averting your eyes, you asked.

“No. not at all but i might need to adopt your kids someday. You know if i can’t make my own.” 

“Sorry” you cried.

“Dismissed.” his civil tone, probably due to the ache, glued you in the position.

When you didn't move, donghyuck came, took you by your arm and guided you for the door.

"He's just being dramatic. Just chill. Another hit and he'd be good to go." He giggled and was soon joined by renjun as well, who was now crouching down in front of jungwoo. 

"You sure?"

"If he doesn't then you can always give him your baby. Ofcourse after asking your husband." Only after he rambled, he realised what he had actually said. His face screamed surprise. To save him from spiralling into deep shame, you eased him by cutting off his apology,

"Ew hyuck. Give him one of yours if you want. Don't come for mine!" And you exited the door.

You were halfway through the basement when you realised the lack of your device. Running back, you were about to shout when you overheard their gossip.

"No, I'm telling you she meant to injure me so i won't teach her anymore or this might be the revenge of all the weapon training. Her knee is stronger than jeno's punch. Don't laugh at me you shits."

Jungwoo was whining. 

"Haha. Yeah ok. But i told you renjun, she's physically stronger than her. Kind of totally opposite." Hyuck's voice quietened at the end but before he could speak further, you interrupted,

"Like who hyuck?"

Their faces went blank at your question and the reason of sudden heaviness in the air was beyond your contemplation. 

"You don't want to answer? Fine. Maybe it's not my place to question." You simply stated before circling the mat to pick up your phone from the chair.

"No. It's not li-

"It's fine hyuck. Chill." You shrugged and walked away, deciding against pestering them for information that they clearly felt too uncomfortable to share. 

"You need a fucking lock on your bloody mouth." was the last thing you heard before they were out of your hearing.

What was the need to ask something when you knew you won't ever get an answer out of them. Everyone was beyond friendly with you but still, there were some borders that nobody dared to cross. Maybe the mention of that woman was one of them. Fear of some unknown ghost of embarrassment was swallowing you whole when you heard grunts. Loud ones. You were still in the basement, the scuffle center being at the far end. The stairs were in front of you. The  snarls and growls were coming from the other end of the basement. The election wasn't hard and you didn't want to give in to your curiosity but you did. Your feet, not cooperating with the voice in the back of your head that told you to turn away, took you ahead in the direction of the noise. Though the residence consisted of only one plot but the basement covered two. Unknown to everyone, the house next to B.N was also their property and it was only utilised for the underground space. Hence the never ending lane and the countless closed metal doors.

The echo got louder with each step you took. It’s been more than a month since you were visiting the basement but those noises had never crossed through you until today. The end doors were forbidden for you, according to what you were told but now that you were exposed to it, there was no chance of ignoring. No prudent person would ever overlook such a thing. That was the justification you were repeating as you took baby steps.

All the doors were closed except one at the very far end. You thought about peaking inside then halted as if your conscious called you. The whimpers also stopped for a minute or so but your heart skipped a few beats when a collision following with painful shriek reverberated in the empty space. The door, slightly ajar, was just a few strides away but you were too startled to even back away from your position. Same pattern of hit and shouts continued again. Unaware of the happenings, you stood there as If you were waiting for someone to separate you from the concrete beneath your feet.

Adding to your distress, the metal door opened abruptly and you realised, you were again at a place where you weren't meant to be.

"What are you doing here?" Jaehyun's growl broke you out of the unconscious state you had fell into. Mechanically, you eyes roamed across him to notice a body lying on the table inside the room, strained cries escaping his lips. The limp body was enough to put two and two together to conclude that he was being tortured. He was a victim of jaehyun's wrath. 

"I asked what ar-

"Y/N!" he picked up his hand to touch your shoulders but you distanced yourself when you noticed the stains covering his clothing and hands, the blood red prominently visible even under the low light. 

His gaze caught yours in time and his eyes softened noticing the fear in your body. 

Very slowly, he reached out for you but immediately stopped, taking a note of your quivering lip.

"Hey. It-its not blood. I ca-can explai- Y/N!" 

The yells of your name covered the whole arena as you rushed away, leaving a dazed jaehyun behind.

"Who was it jae?" 

Jaehyun saw your trembling figure diminishing while you ran away from him as if you were disgusted by him. Not that he expected any other reaction, some good time has passed since someone innocent had came across their work. To say the least, it was never pleasant to have someone witness their harsh manners.

"JAE!"

"Y/n. She saw the body and also the blood."

He mumbled to ten whose visage, upon hearing, instantly mirrored jaehyun's.

"What about him?" Ten pointed to the man, "he's not speaking shit"

"Finish him off if you want. I need to handle something else now"

You raced as fast as you could have. You had never thought of yourself as a weak person but the sight was gruesome to just disregard and walk off. With shaking legs, you finally made it upstairs but the ringing, only became more earsplitting. Your hand harshly rubbed at your chest as you tried to defuse the tension bubbling in your whole body. After what felt like minutes, you covered your ears as if it would stop the ringing. It certainly did not but surprisingly it was muffled. You removed your hands and the blaring returned again. But this time, you laboured yourself to look into your surroundings. You saw chenle, jisung, jaemin running back and forth from the kitchen while doyoung seemed to be scolding jeno for something. Few others were also there, cleaning the couches and spraying some fragrance in the air. Everyone seemed to be their own turmoil, origin was which was yet to be known.

That's when it hit you. Maybe your ears weren't booming due to fright. 

"Chenle"you screamed at the passing boy, "do you hear this sound?" You pointed your fingers in the air to exaggerate your point. He merely nodded before he went past you and the very next second the noise was reduced to mere buzzing. You inhaled sharply to regulate your heartbeat but failed due to the ruckus  that enclosed you. Suddenly jaemin emerged, 

"Why are you so disheveled? Go and change from these workout clothes. Uncle is outside. Didn't you hear the alarm." Only Half of his words entered your head and before you could come to your senses, you were interrupted again.

"Y/n my girl!" Whipping your head, you saw a familiar figure entering the threshold. 

An old man that you surely had seen somewhere. 

His voice was a lot stronger than his aged body which he was dragging along with the help of a walking stick. 

Jaemin nudged you to greet him and you complied as soon as could have in your current state. Only when you got closer, you realised he was the same man you had met in the office celebration. You haven't seen him since then but he looked significantly weaker than before. Even with dark circles present, his face still was still shining with the smile he wore as he staggered inside. 

"How's life treating you my kid" he asked, patting the empty space on the couch. You took the seat and replied in a small voice,

"I'm good. Everything is nice." 

"Why am I smelling Jasmines this late in the evening?" He sniffed the air and galred at doyoung, " Do you take me for a fool? One thing! Cleaning. that is the only thing i ask of you. There are- how many of you are present since the morning. Answer me doyoung." 

The man barked and doyoung muttered a sheepish apology, his head dropping with shame. 

"Each one of you is nonsense. If you'd just clean up your stink once in a while, you'd save your money on the thousands of spray bottles you buy every month. But you thick heads only know how to shoot and punch. Now get me a glass of water before i die of this fake flowery smell"

He shouted like he owned the place and Maybe he did. Your mind and heart were not aligned up to comprehend the simple scenario that took place before you, the dizziness coming and going with intervals.

Then you were called again. 

Looking at your right, your saw jaehyun standing, his face ridden of any colour.

You noticed his new shirt. There was no blood on it. His hands were also cleaned and you were stunned at how quickly your eyes were running on his body to find any trace of what you saw in the basement a few minutes ago.

"y/n, i need to talk to you" 

For the first time, jaehyun's words were directed towards you without any poison in them. 

You still didn't wish to face him so you moved yourself to face the old man.

"Y/n ple-

"Now you don't even greet your own father jung jaehyun."

He spoke with a steadier and louder voice that felt like it was only meant for jaehyun. The contrast in his tone was striking. 

He was jaehyun's father.

"Sorry dad. I have something imp-

"I called you in the morning to inform yuta and taeil and yet i do not see anyone here. Do i need to die for you to respect me!"

You couldn't believe your ears when jaehyun answered in shuddering tone. 

"Yu-yuta is not here." 

He sounded like a child responding to his teacher, scared of some evaluation.

"Then call him."

"I mean he's away on business dad."

"Civil?"

It was like hearing Morse code.

"No."

"You sent him on a target place?"

"No. He's in Nice to collect information."

"Wow. Can you please clap your back for breaking the only sacred rule this family lives by?"

The silence in the extremely large living room was suffocating. This time, except you, everyone else was scared. And it still wasn't of any help.

"How dare you send a family man away on anything remotely dangerous. I thought you all were careful after taeil's incident but no. Nobody cares enough t-

Before he could complete, shaky coughs engulfed his body. Somehow, jaehyun grabbed him the moment he was about to fall from the couch. Doyoung ran for the kitchen while xiaojun, who was always too swift in his movements, came to the living room with a medical box.

You weren't sure what was happening with him or why he was being treated like some high mighty force or why he was so adamant on bringing yuta back but you could only pray that his wish won't be granted.

You weren't cruel but you were sure he'd be able to survive without that piece of shit roaming around.

You couldn't lose the few weeks you had without him.

Taeyong hands clutched yours like his life depended on you.

"Please please please y/n. It's been over a month since he's gone. I never withdraw from a deal. But this is an emergency. Uncle doesn't know you both were forced. He is a soft and weak hearted man. We cannot afford to tell him anything like this and clearly this would be seen as a betrayal to him. You both are nothing like what he's told but he doesn't need to need. He's the only father figure we have. Please just this time. I promise I won't ask anything from you after this. You do not need to live with him. he'd be here until two months are over. Please."

You lifted your brow at his last sentence and liberated your hands from his, feeling his trembling fingers. 

"I don't see the need to lie anymore, taeyong. You can tell him the truth and be over with it. If he has jaehyun as a son, he must be used to hearing blatant lies. This won't be the only one, I'm sure of that." Crossing your arms, you coldly said.

"I know you hate me but please y/n. You know how it is to lose the only family member you have. We have no one besides him. Never had anyone before him. The least we can do is keep him happy until it's too late. Please. Just this time."

Gobbling down each word, you merely nodded at him. If it weren't for his glossy eyes, you'd have threw up on him right after the first pleading but you weren't heartless like him. He was right. You knew how it felt to lose your loved ones, a fate you would never wish upon anyone. Not even the person you despised the most.

"Thank you. I owe you this one kiddo." He hugged you and you pushed him away. 

"Let me call him."

"Yuta!"

"Hmm"

"You need to come back immediately "

Taeyong spoke with urgency.

"Nope. I still have Three weeks and two days left." You heard his non-chalant words through the speaker.

"Yuta it's abou-

"Sorry I'm busy with my french girls. Call you later and please forget to take care of yourself."

And he hung up. 

A smirk formed on your face watching the grim expressions of taeyong.

"Good luck convincing him and while you are going to explain him the difference between the French girls and the French monkeys he has mistaken as women, why don't you explain me what exactly jaehyun does in that other end of the basement. I love some good stories, taeyong. So let's hear how good of a storyteller are you!"

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[cartoonsaint]

Try Not to Use the “F-Word,” Okay?

[Ao3]

was reading about @doodledrawsthings​ ‘coffee shop au’ and thought it was interesting that from the jump Luka uses “peck” as a swear. told myself not to overthink it... so naturally here’s nearly three thousand words about the idea that Luka used to swear a LOT. not sure how in keeping it is w his character, but it certainly is in keeping w MY experiences of unthinkingly swearing around a toddler ahahah.... fuck 8)

Summary: three snapshots of luka that are definitely only about swearing (coffee shop au) Characters: Luka, Vanessa, baby Hattie, Luka’s parents. Rating: T (features swearing, implied unhealthy relationship, post-birth scene, minor bleeding) Length: 2878 words

One evening during dinner, Luka loses his grip on his fork and drops it under the table with a clatter. “Fuck,” he says mildly.

Dad gasps, which is a poor choice since he was mid-sip of water. He sputters and coughs, face turning alarmingly red, while Mom throws her head back and laughs. It’s even louder and longer than usual; even by the time Luka crawls back up from under the table, errant fork clutched in one hand and brow wrinkled in confusion over his weird parents, his mom is still laughing. His dad, though, has managed to get his breath back.

“Luka T. Princeton!” he says hoarsely, looking both absolutely scandalized and absolutely soaked from the water that escaped his mouth and cup. “We do not say that word at the dinner table!”

“What word?” Luka asks, before a metaphorical lightbulb goes off. “Oh, ‘fuck’?”

“Don’t—!” his dad says, then goes “hrng” and looks to his wife for help. 

Luka’s mom, now face-down at the dinner table in stark contrast to her usually flawless manners, just smacks the table with a fist and laughs harder. The water in Luka’s cup ripples with it, which in itself is pretty funny, but his dad still looks so uncharacteristically thunderstruck that Luka is unsure whether to join in. Plus he pulled out the full name, so… 

Luka bites his lower lip, suddenly worried. Did he do something bad…?

“Where did you even hear that word?” Dad is massaging the bridge of his nose now in the way he only does when dealing with a tough client or a call that he doesn’t want Luka to overhear, and Luka finds he has to bite his lip even harder because it wants to wobble and he’s a big kid, he’s not going to cry.

“M-Mom said it the other day, when she cut her finger,” he admits, fiddling with his fork. Dad turns to her with such a look of betrayal, even as Mom tries to stifle her continuing giggles. “Um… is it bad?”

“Yes,” Dad says, just as Mom catches her breath and says, “Well, sort of.”

Luka’s parents glance at each other in surprised confusion, but Luka barely notices. He said a bad word… Does that mean he’s bad? Despite his best efforts, his vision starts to go blurry with tears as he stares down at the fork in his hands. He doesn’t want to be bad.

“I don’t think it’s that big a deal,” his mom says.

“I do,” replies his dad, sounding baffled. “I just assumed we were on the same page with this.”

Luka sniffs, trying desperately to hold it together, but he said a bad word — but he didn’t know — but does it matter if he didn’t know? He’s still bad, right? Hot tears start to trail down his cheeks and he sniffs again, harder and louder.

“Oh, Lu,” his dad says softly and crosses around the table to kneel by Luka’s seat. Luka wipes at his eyes fruitlessly as his mom reaches across and takes his smaller hand in hers. “I’m sorry, kiddo, I didn’t mean to get upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It’s okay,” his mom tells him, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’s alright, Luka. We’re not angry — it is a, ah, a ‘bad word,’ but you didn’t know. It’s alright, sweetheart.”

Once Luka starts crying, though, it always takes him an embarrassingly long time to stop. He can’t help it. His frustration about unwillingly acting like such a dumb little kid makes his tears come faster and harder; he has to scrub at his face for a while, his dad handing him tissues, and so he doesn’t pick up on the silent conversation happening over his head between his parents.

They are a matched set in so many ways. To Luka they seem to move in perfect tandem, one picking up the tasks of the other with seamless grace. It seems so natural, so unpracticed and easy, and indeed some of it is — but as Luka cries, they communicate in a series of small expressions each has long-studied in the other: We will talk about this when Luka goes to bed. And, Well I thought it was funny. And, Alright maybe it was but I still don’t want him swearing. And, We’ll discuss it. We’ll figure it out together. I love you.

Luka never realizes. He just assumes that perfect couples are never out of sync with each other — and if they are out of sync, then they must not be perfect.

***

“Fuck, Ven, she’s perfect,” Luka breathes.

He couldn't get close enough sitting in one of the chairs, so he had been leaning against his wife's hospital bed when Vanessa passed him their child — their child, their baby, theirs — and his knees went weak. Now he’s kneeling on the tile floor, barely aware of his surroundings because in his arms he holds a truly, beautifully perfect little baby girl.

She has… a nose. He couldn’t say whether it’s more like his or Vanessa’s because this perfect bundle of joy is a scrunched up little pink newborn so mostly she looks like a lot of wrinkles that a sleepy face got on, but fuck, he loves that little nose and everything attached to it. Honestly through the tears he can barely see her right now but she’s perfect, perfect, perfect… even if she is, objectively speaking, not actually that appealing to look at. “Shit, Ven. Ven. Look at her goddamn little face, fuck.”

Vanessa makes a sound and reaches for him, touching his hand. “You don’t like her face?”

“I fucking love her face,” he says hoarsely. “I love her so goddamn much, Ven, I don’t even know how to say it. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Good,” Vanessa says tiredly. Luka doesn’t want to put their daughter down for a second so he does his best to wipe his eyes on the shoulder of his shirt sleeve. He gets to his feet only to sink right onto the bed beside his wife. His perfect, wonderful wife who has given them the tiny creature he never wants to look away from. “You wanted to name her Harriet, didn’t you?”

It’s like there’s a thread pulling his gaze directly to their daughter but he resists it for long enough to look up at the radiant woman he loves. She’s watching him, eyes glittering. “Do you mean…?”

She gives him one of her luminous smiles, even exhausted as she clearly is. “If it’s what you want, my love.”

Luka’s heart leaps as he looks down at their daughter — at Harriet. “Harriet,” he whispers in wonder. “Little Harry.”

Vanessa’s grip on his arm briefly tightens. “No,” she says.

Luka can’t help the wet laugh that comes out of him, though he tries to keep it down for the sake of his exhausted wife. “No,” he agrees. “How about… Hattie? Little Hattie?”

Hattie sleeps on, a teeny tiny person wrapped up safe in Luka’s trembling arms. He’s probably going to get dehydrated from all this crying and his face already hurts from how hard he’s smiling but, fuck, he doesn’t care about that at all when their perfect daughter is right here. “Hm? Hattie? How’s that sound, princess?” And he presses a gentle, wet kiss to Harriet’s brow.

Luka doesn’t notice Vanessa’s stung shock. He doesn’t notice the shadow of fear, anger, and confusion that darkens her face as she looks between her husband and the daughter she’s given him. It will take him a long time to realize his assumptions about their mutual goals as a unit are different.

For now, he loves Vanessa with all his heart — and loves their little Hattie just as much, if not more.

***

“Fuck,” Luka hisses, jerking his hand out of the hot, soapy water to check his fingertip. Blood wells up from its soft pad, mixing and diluting in the dirty dishwater. “Fuck,” he sighs again, and turns the squeaky nozzle of his shitty sink to run clean water over it. What kind of a fucking fool leaves a sharp knife in the sink like that, anyway.

Obviously, he does. This god awful apartment is just his, after all — he’d run here as soon as he could manage to pull together both the separate funds and distance necessary to prevent Vanessa locating it. This place is safe: Vanessa has never been here, and as of today she never will. So it’s safe, that is, from her — not from Luka’s own inability to keep track of where the goddamn sharp objects are.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself as the water rushing over his cut starts to run clean. “Shithead.”

It’s been a weird day — a weird week — shit, a weird few years, if Luka thinks about it. When Vanessa came into his life, she seemed to him so bright that nothing else was worth looking at. It took until their daughter — his daughter, now — for Luka to start looking into the darkness she brought as well. Then the divorce proceedings, custody battles, the restraining order — for so long it had seemed that the legal system would fail Luka and Harriet, that Vanessa’s long shadow would follow them wherever they went.

Until earlier this week, that is, when Vanessa used magic in the courtroom.

Things had happened quickly from there. The paperwork barring Vanessa in his and Hattie’s life was just signed and made official today; his copies are still set neatly on the junky, second-hand kitchen table until he figures out exactly where to put them. After so long, it’s finally over. He and Hattie are free.

The old pipes complain as he turns the water off. The cut isn’t too bad, but he probably ought to bandage it anyway. He wipes away the spilled water with a ratty towel, turning to —

“Ffffpffpffpfpfpflllffff,” says Hattie from right by Luka’s feet, which is also outside of her playpen.

“Fuck!” Luka yelps, leaping about a foot in the air. Hattie stops blowing air through her lips to smile up at him, totally angelic. Luka presses a hand to his chest, staring at his little girl. “Kiddo! You scared me! How did you—?”

He looks across the small, open floorplan into the den, where he’s set up several different brands and varieties of baby gates to keep Hattie out of the kitchen when he’s occupied with cooking or cleaning. Her many toys are left behind, the gates apparently untouched, but somehow she’s escaped them — again — to hug Luka’s leg and smile up at him.

He smiles back, of course — he couldn’t deny her anything. And even if it is a problem that his little girl can’t be contained anywhere, he feels a swell of pride at her continued and baffling ingenuity — as well as a slight prickling in his eyes because even with all her toys she always just seems to want to be close to him. “No one’s gonna keep you trapped anywhere, huh, sweetheart?” he asks, squatting down to ruffle her light brown waves.

“Fffpllfpllfff,” Hattie replies importantly, graciously accepting the affection.

“Ah, I see. Your jumping abilities are unmatched, are they?” Luka says in return. His daughter started moving early, her curiosity about the world apparently unable to be sated with just looking even when she was just a few months old. She has always wanted to touch, to crawl, to walk — just the other day Luka could swear he caught her trying to climb the couch. His little princess is unstoppable, and his pride in her every step has gotten him teary-eyed more than once (more than once this week, even).

“Fffflpllplflffff,” Hattie tells him, eyes bright. She smiles hugely in between blowing air through her lips. What she lacks in the ability to form words (she’s a little late, and Luka’s not worried, exactly, but he is watching that with hawk-like eyes) she makes up for in expression. She turns her big blue eyes to the hand Luka isn’t using to brush back her wavy locks, curious. “Fffllllllllflflplf?”

“Oh, your dad cut himself,” Luka explains, showing her the slim red line of blood beading up on the pad of his finger. “Pretty stupid, if you ask — oh, sweetie, don’t—!” She’s grabbed his finger in a little fist before he can stop her, smearing blood all over it. He quickly scoops her into his lap, frowning down at her messy hand. “Fuck. Alright, we’ll just—”

“Fffffffuck,” Hattie says clearly.

Luka blinks once. Twice. He looks down at his daughter, who is beaming up at him with clear pride.

“...what,” Luka says.

“Flffflpplf.”

“A-alright, okay, that’s — sorry, princess, your dad thought for a second there you said—”

“Pllllfffflllplflflfff. Fffuck!” Hattie says again. Then she claps her little hands together in delight, further spreading the blood between them.

“Ha,” says Luka, voice unusually high. “Hahaha I? You??? …Alright! Alright! This, ah, this is fine, kiddo, we’ll just—”

“Fuck! Ffplplffuck fuck fuck?”

Luka takes a deep breath. Then he takes another one.

When Harriet was first born, he’d made an effort to cut back on the swearing. He had the ability to turn it off, after all, in the courthouse and with clients, so presumably it should have been easy to transfer that back home, too. But changing the way he’s spoken for years in his own space turned out to be quite difficult; with the stress of the past few months, that effort had been one of the many things to fall by the wayside in favor of more immediate concerns.

So Luka has been swearing a lot lately. And his sweet Hattie has been quietly soaking it all up, patiently biding her time until she could attempt to communicate with her dad in his own language.

“Ffffuck?” Hattie asks, eyes concerned. She presses one dirty hand to Luka’s face, as though attempting to stem the flow of tears. “Fffpllppff?”

“Oh, princess, I’m sorry,” he tells her, rubbing his wet face on his shoulder to clear his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have — I—” He sniffs, then exhales hard. “Alright. Daddy’s been saying some bad words lately, but he’s gonna stop now, okay?”

“Fuck!”

A part of Luka really, really wants to laugh, actually, because damn is Hattie cute with her big, sparkling eyes, her chubby cheeks uplifted with a smile, the absolute adoration on her face as she looks up at him for approval. The contrast between how sweet she looks in her bird-patterned onesie and the foul language coming out of her mouth is almost —

“Fuck?”

“Nope!” he says brightly. “We’re gonna try something different! Okay, kiddo?” Hattie tilts her head adorably and Luka’s chest squeezes — fuck he loves her. “Hmmm…”

She watches him silently as he thinks. In the dozens of parenting books he’s read there was never anything explicitly about what to do if a toddler started cursing (because no one else has this problem because only he is this bad a dad, holy shit), but he can recall a number of chapters about encouraging them in pronunciation…

He’ll need something that sounds like “fuck,” but definitely isn’t. He laces his fingers together, tilting his head at Hattie. She pats his hands, looking solemnly back. He sticks his tongue out at her; delighted, she does the same. What word to use?

He notices that her orange onesie has penguins on it. 

“Alright, kiddo, this is going to be a little silly,” he says, and goes, “fllpppplffffpeck.”

It might be easier to just let this go, to let Hattie say and do whatever she wants, and part of Luka is tempted. But he knows now how important it is to talk in a family, to put in the work to understand one another. This situation might be a minor instance of it, but he wants to make sure he and Hattie never have a problem talking to each other. He’s willing to put in the work, as much as it takes.

It takes an hour or so to convince her that “peck” is superior to “fuck.” The process is complicated by the continued desire to laugh every time she swears, but eventually they manage, and Hattie goes toddling off merrily chanting, “peck peck peck peck.”

Luka painfully hauls himself up (shit, his tailbone hurts) to finally finish doing the dishes in water that has long gone cold. This is a good start, he thinks, but he’ll need to watch his own language as well. Maybe he can encourage Hattie’s positive association with the word with a bird toy or something? He considers this as he reaches into the water to unplug the drain —

And jerks his hand back as the same finger grazes probably the same goddamn knife. “Fff—!”

“Peck!”

He glances over his shoulder. Hattie is painstakingly tugging at the baby gates, trying to get back into the playpen he knows she knows he prefers her to be in. Her eyes are solemn, watching him for what he’ll do.

“...peck,” he agrees weakly. She smiles brilliantly and goes back to her toddler work.

God, he fu— he pecking loves her.

#a hat in time #coffee shop au #snatcher (ahit) #vanessa (ahit) #ahit #saint writes #1. #feel kinda bad not including the birds in this but #i couldn't rly pull off effectively including them DX #2. even in a non-au harriet might be a nice name for luka's mom #3. almost included vanessa requesting ice chips in this bc lol

[atths--twice]

Heart of the Desert

After the First World War, Mulder is left with wounds, scars, and PTSD, though it is not diagnosed. He feels lost and unsure, not knowing what life holds for him. Then, the discovery of King Tut leads him to Egypt, and to a woman who is quite lost herself.

This is my contribution for the AU Exchange. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

London, England Late December 1922

He sighed as he stood in the ballroom, his leg aching, though he tried not to show it. Music swelled as people began to dance, laughter and conversation filling the room. He cleared his throat and glanced around, trying to find a clear path to avoid anyone as he attempted to go outside for some air.

“Fox!” His mother said as he turned, smiling at him, a glass of deep red wine in her hand. “Why are you standing here all alone?” She handed him her glass, reaching up to adjust his tie. He sighed and allowed her to fuss, even as he wished that she would just let him be.

“There. That’s better.” She patted his chest and he gave her what he hoped was a happy smile, though he knew how forced it felt. She took back her glass of wine, raised her eyebrows, and asked again. “Why are you here on your own?”

“No particular reason. I was uh…” He took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fox.” She shook her head at him and he let out his breath.

“I’m sorry, Mother.” He nodded and she sighed.

“Have you danced with anyone tonight?”

“No.”

“Fox… there are many women waiting for you to simply ask them.”

“I know.” He gave her another strained smile, their conversation not a new one.

Taking his arm, she raised an eyebrow as she waited for him to take a step. He did so, limping a bit as he grimaced. A few steps, and it was somewhat better, the limp less pronounced.

“Hello,” his mother said kindly to people as they passed and he smiled pleasantly, though he had no desire to speak to any of them. She steered them toward a cluster of women and he gritted his teeth.

A pretty woman with short blonde hair, in a dark green dress, smiled at him and he sighed through his nose, smiling as he knew was expected of him. She clasped her hands together as the other women around her stopped their chatter and looked toward him and his mother.

“Good evening, Mrs. Mulder. This is simply a lovely party.”

“Aren’t you just the sweetest,” his mother said. “You know Fox, of course. Fox, you know Ruby Andrews.”

“Yes. Good evening, Miss Andrews.” He bowed slightly, raising his eyes to the blonde woman.

“Mr. Mulder,” she said, the dimple in her cheek showing when she smiled.

“Fox was just telling me he was looking for a dance partner.” He forced a smile and nodded, not looking at his mother, but felt her squeezing his arm tightly.

“Yes, I was. Miss Andrews, would you be so kind as to escort me to the dance floor?”

“It would be my pleasure,” she agreed with a smile and he nodded.

“I will leave you here then, Mother. I’m sure you all will find something to discuss.” He kissed his mother’s cheek and then crooked his arm to Ruby. She slid her hand into it, allowing him to guide her away from the group.

He felt the familiar nervousness that came when he was alone with a woman, especially one of his mothers choosing. It always felt forced and uncomfortable.

“How are you, Mr. Mulder?” Ruby asked and he shook his head.

“Please, not that. Mr. Mulder sounds as though you’re speaking to my father.” Ruby laughed and he smiled, a little less strained than earlier.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you, I wasn’t sure what was proper anymore.”

“Miss Andrews-”

“Ruby, please… Fox.”

“Ruby.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. “I need to inform you, I’m not quite as skilled at dancing as I once was. My injuries-”

“Do they hurt terribly?” She looked at him with her wide green eyes and he wished he could run away. Run quickly and escape.

“Uhh, they come and go. If I stand still for too long, my leg can begin to ache.”

“Well then, let’s not remain still,” she said, turning and smiling as a waltz began.

He held her, his heart racing, knowing he would undoubtedly make a mess of the dance. He only hoped to not embarrass her as he led her around the dance floor, not wanting others to laugh at her or speak of her unpleasantly. His leg stuck once or twice, but she smiled and said nothing, waiting patiently for him to catch up to the music.

When the music stopped and people clapped for the musicians, he breathed a sigh of relief as he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He really needed to get out of the room.

“Thank you for the dance, Ruby. If you’ll kindly excuse me,” he said with another little bow and she smiled, although her eyes seemed sad.

“Of course. Thank you.” He smiled and without a glance around, knowing his mother was most likely watching him, he walked away and out of the room.

He passed people outside, bundled up against the cold, and he nodded but did not stop to speak to anyone. He felt he could not breathe and wanted to be away from people before he made a spectacle of himself.

Down the outside stairs and around the corner, he slipped back inside the house and hurried up the backstairs to his bedroom. Closing the door and locking it, he pulled his tie free and took off his jacket, tossing both onto the bed. He walked to his balcony and opened the door, breathing in the cold night air.

Taking deep lungfuls of air, he unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and closed his eyes. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he shook his head and gritted his teeth.

“God,” he whispered, opening his eyes, feeling off balance as he gripped the railing and took more deep breaths. Shuddering, he stumbled back into the bedroom, crashing into a chair before he sat heavily into it, his heart racing as he closed his eyes.

Calm down. Just breathe.

In through his nose and out his mouth, he concentrated on the feel of the air filling his lungs, the room slowing and then no longer spinning. Opening his eyes, he let out a shaky breath and ran a hand down his face.

It had been four years since the war ended and yet at times it felt like no time had passed at all. Some days he could nearly fool himself that it had not been him, but a character he had read about in a story who had spent days and nights in freezing muddy trenches or war torn buildings. It was not he who had seen and heard men dying, calling out for their mothers with their last breath.

He could sometimes push it away, keep it from surfacing, and at other times it felt as though he were right in the middle of it again. It happened without warning and he was unable to stop it. He could be in a crowded room or on his own and he would begin to sweat, his heart pounding erratically, his breathing hard and labored.

He had been to doctors for his physical injuries- his thigh, where a blade had ripped open his flesh, and his shoulder where a bullet had gone clean through. Describing the pain that continued to linger as the doctor listened intently, making notes in his file, he would then tentatively discuss his feelings of panic and nightmares. The doctor would stop him from speaking as he shook his head, telling him he only needed to hear of physical ailments.

A painkiller was given to him to alleviate his aches and as beneficial as it was, it also made him exceedingly sleepy, unable to function during the day. He took them at night, but not as often as he should have for his pain. His dreams, while medicated, were odd and the heavy feeling persisted throughout the next day.

When he had been taken to the field hospital after he had been stabbed, he had been given morphine for the pain and it kept him blissfully unaware of the extent of his injury. He had been told after he was past the worst of it, that twice they believed they would lose him. His wound had become infected and amputation had been discussed as his fever continued to climb.  

But then his fever had broken, the infection plateaued and became manageable. It had been a slow recovery, but one he was thankful for every day.

He had seen men lose a limb in battle, the sight of it causing him to retch. Men in the hospital, their bandages bloody as it covered the missing limb, had once again turned his stomach. To lose an appendage in such a horrid way, and then suffer the future repercussions, it made him shudder at the thought.

After spending weeks in the field hospital, he had traveled home, the injury to his leg deeming him unfit for duty. Within two weeks, he had contracted pneumonia and was in the hospital again for nearly a month.

Weak and thin, once he had been home, his recovery from both his leg and the pneumonia had taken time, his mother fussing over him all the while. Sleeping most of the days away, he woke only to eat and drink.

After that, he fell easily to sickness. A cough or cold quickly became something more severe. He spent a lot of time in and out of hospitals, sometimes wishing he had died, as his body had shaken violently from chills or ached from fever. But then when it would pass and he had been on the mend, he chastised himself for such horrible and selfish thoughts.

Once he had gained his strength, sicknesses no longer a constant plague, his mother began discussing a celebratory dinner party for his return and recovery. He had rejected the idea, telling her it was not necessary, but she had insisted, his fathers opinion of the idea quelled with a look from her.

A dinner party had been planned and executed, one in which he felt incredibly out of place. Discussion had revolved heavily around the war and he listened to those who did not fight, had not seen any battle, give their opinions on how it should have gone. He had to excuse himself, anger rising inside of him, not caring what his mother would say to him later.

Since that dinner party, there had been many more. He had become tolerant of them, but often slipped out before they were officially over, his mothers looks and words the next day a small price to pay over his need to escape the stifling room.

He had never been one who enjoyed parties. Too many people fanning about, all watching one another, looking for tidbits of gossip. He hated the formalities, the stiffness and uncomfortableness of the evenings. The women were always too heavily perfumed, too giggly, and too intent on gaining his attention for him to find any happiness in them.

Though he knew the parties were enjoyed by nearly everyone but him, he knew his mother also had other reasons for them, one which he had suspected and was confirmed when she announced at breakfast one morning that another party was being planned.

“It’s time you settled down and married, Fox. There are many women who have been left behind and there is a surplus of young women from which to choose.”

“Mother,” Fox had scoffed and she raised her eyebrows in question. “They have lost-”

“I am aware of what they have lost. Their betrothed will not be coming home and many would welcome the chance to marry. To not be a burden to their family.”

“You make it sound so romantic,” he had muttered with a shake of his head.

“There is no longer time for romance,” she had stated firmly and he lowered his eyes to the table with a heavy sigh. “There are many women who will gladly welcome your attention and a proposal. A comfort where there may not be another.” He had lifted his eyes to hers and for a second he had seen her falter under his gaze. “I do not want you to be alone.”

She had said the last sentence so quietly, he had been unable to remain angry with her, but nor had he easily acquiesced to her demands.

Parties had continued, dinners and dancing where he had many partners, but no courting or engagement had come of it. He felt no attachment to any of the women, finding them more nerve wracking than anything else, causing him to slip away, trying to catch his breath, his leg throbbing.

He was better off on his own.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up from the chair and began to undress, not calling for Connor, his valet, still needing time to himself. Laying his clothes neatly on the chair, he walked into his bathroom and turned on the water in the bathtub.

When it was full, he removed his underclothes and stepped inside carefully, sinking down into the warm water. Relaxing back, he closed his eyes and tried to block out his thoughts, wanting to calm down, needing to calm down.

He stayed in the bathtub until the water was lukewarm, rising from it slowly, his leg throbbing like a heartbeat. The water drained from the bath with a gurgle as he dried and dressed. He considered ringing Thomas for a cup of tea and some toast, but decided against it, just wishing to sleep.

Tomorrow he must face his mothers words of disapproval and the thought of them left him exhausted.

_________________

Mid January 1923

The theater was not overly crowded as the lights dimmed and the newsreel began. Paying attention, he sat forward as the tomb of King Tutankhamun was shown to have been discovered. Men were grinning as they walked around and the narrator told of how Howard Carter had found steps leading to the tomb, chambers leading to many rooms inside.

Women walked past in a temple and his eyes scanned the screen as others waved and smiled, the news then moving to something else, something that did not hold his interest. He sat open mouthed as he felt his heart rate quicken, and not from nervousness, but excitement.

Sitting back in his seat, the film began, though his mind was not on it. He was in the hot desert of Egypt, standing beside Carter, trying to get a peek into the chambers.

“Wow,” he breathed, shaking his head and bending low as he stood up, not wanting to block the view of anyone. His brain was running rampantly as he left the movie hall, the woman selling tickets staring at him.

“Sir? Did you…”

“Not feeling well. Please excuse me.” He bowed his head at her and she smiled with a slight nod.

He left and walked into the cold winter air, pulling his coat tight around himself. He shook his head again, an old thrill propelling him forward, his limp barely perceptible. Stepping past people, he thought of the days he had spent digging up rocks and shells, imagining himself a great discoverer, one for the history books.

Days on the shore of filling baskets with his spoils, bringing them to his mother as she and his father had sat on chairs under umbrellas, all came washing over him anew. He had squatted with a small trowel and spade, the waves crashing as he dug and found smooth white rocks and shells abandoned by sea creatures.

Every item had been exclaimed over, his mother and father delighted with his findings. She would laugh and hold them up to the sun, smiling as crystals caught in the rays of light. Her eyes alight, he would smile at her before running back to the shoreline, intent on finding more.

“Our little archeologist,” he had heard his mother say and he had beamed with happiness.

He shook his head as he stopped walking, looking around before he crossed the street, laughing softly under his breath. So many questions filled his head and he needed to find the answers.

The house was empty when he arrived, save for the servants. He shook his head at Bonnie as she inquired if he would like any tea, smiling quickly as he made his way to the library. Closing the door and sitting at the desk, he took out a pen and paper and began to write a letter, laughing excitedly, his fingers fairly flying across the page.

15 January 1923

To whom it may concern,

My name is Fox William Mulder.

This morning I was attending my local film hall. A newsreel appeared first and I was on the edge of my seat at what I saw before me: the discovery of the tomb of King Tutankhamun.

Speechless would be the best word to describe my initial feelings. Thrilled and excited would be the next.

I left without watching the film and am at present in my library, writing a letter in hopes of learning more about the recent discovery.

Ancient Egypt has long since been a topic I have found intriguing. I spent days during my youth, poring over books about gods and goddesses, kings and their lives. I would rattle off the names I had learned and why they were worshiped or revered, much to my parents' dismay, I can assure you. I am not embarrassed to admit I was more than slightly obsessed.

I know there will probably be more information shared in newspapers in the coming days and weeks, but I know it will not equal that of news directly from the source. Any and all information that can be shared will be greatly appreciated.

I eagerly await your response.

Fox Mulder

He read the letter through and nodded. Smiling, his heart still racing with excitement, he folded it and placed it in an envelope. Rising from the desk, he left the house, realizing in his hasty arrival, he had not even removed his coat.

With a laugh, he hurried to the post office, intent on seeing the letter posted that day, his mind once again imagining the warm air of the desert as he shivered in the cold wind blowing about his hatless head.

_________________

The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities Cairo, Egypt Late February, 1923

Crowds were already gathering by mid morning, the museum seeing more steady visitors than it had in a very long time. With the news of the discovery of King Tutankhamun, people had become excited to learn more about the past.

Tours were given to groups of men, women, and children, whispering and pointing out items they found interesting.

Letters had begun to arrive. Some were from children sending their pocket money to help explorers find more “losted items,” and others were letters from older children excited to learn more. Then there were some from adults- journalists, scholars, and those who had fancied themselves budding archaeologists. Every letter was written with the excitement of adventure, yearning to be a part of the discovery, no matter the distance they were from it.

A pair of researchers were tasked with reading the letters and sending back a reply. They were to be perfunctory, concise, and sent off with haste to expand on the popularity of the moment.

One letter in particular grabbed the attention of a researcher and additional information was added when the response was written. Something about the letter had sparked an immediate kinship, though it could not be described to anyone including themselves.  

The letter was sealed and addressed, but not placed in the pile to be taken the next day to the post office. It was held until it could be dropped off personally on the walk home later that evening, a feeling of unknown and unexplainable excitement felt as the letter was taken to begin its travel to Fox Mulder in London, England.

#The X-Files #XF Fanfic #Alternate Universe #World War One #Historical AU #PTSD #Archaeology #Letters #New Outlook

[moondustaeil]

cynosure ⌖ lee jeno

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ✧☾.·:·.cynosure

⠀ ⠀⠀ about

⋅  genre : contract killer/gangster!au : romance, fluff, angst

⋅  characters : Jeno x fem!reader and ot21

⋅ word count : 17k (yes, it’s a lot)

⋅  warning : violence, use of weapons, gambling, kidnapping, betrayal, blackmailing, timeskips, murder, blood, character death, roughly based on bap’s skydive. Don’t read if you’re not ready

⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ synopsis

⋅  Contact-killer Jeno finds himself lurking between twenty possible perpetrators. One mission-based game with only few chances to save y/n, if it’s not too late that is. Only one gets to be the last man standing, but who will be the lucky cynosure?

suıǝ 

“Lee Jeno”

The voice of unofficial leader Taeyong made Jeno look up from the tiled floor. It was the strictness of the voice that required him to pay attention. “What?” He asked.

“I just did the casting but if you’re uninterested, don’t bother to come. You know what that means, right?” Taeyong asked, his white hair falling in front of his eyes as he tilted his head to the side. Not that Taeyong expected an answer, and not that Jeno was willing to give the answer even if it was expected from him. All twenty-one members were aware of the one unwritten rule, perhaps a little selfish to remember that one but forget the remaining ones. Everyone knew, and yet there was one person who felt like reminding everyone. “More money for the rest” words said by no other than wiseacre Doyoung.

A silent sigh threatened to escape from Jeno’s lips, but the word “money” kept him hostage despite not being interested in a new robbery. “Just give me my task please,” he said while his eyes traveled from Taeyong to the other nineteen people around him: wearing the same black outfits, carrying the same uninterested attitude, and still it was him who got called out. “Easy. You and Yangyang, clean up after the rest leaves.”

“Cleaning up your mess? Am I a trashcan or something?! All I’ve been doing in the past weeks is clean up behind your dirty ass, wiping blood from floors like I’m cleaning snot from a baby’s face” Jeno opened his book of mental complaints, letting them flow out mindlessly. It wasn’t exaggerated as in the past few weeks he had only been paired up with younger members, given the task to make proof disappear as stars disappeared from the night sky. 

“Audition for a different part next time, loverboy” Taeyong shot back upon hearing the complaint about his casting method, his words gaining strength from Donghyuck who was making soppy kissing noises in the background. When was the teasing finally going to stop? Did he prefer scolding instead? Yes, he did. At least scolding wasn't as hard to ignore as bratty behavior. "At least I'm not lonely" Jeno quietly protested despite feeling lonely in the group of twenty other young men, no one seemed to take his side and those who considered taking it were silenced. 

Laughter followed after his words. These were his friends, his enemies hidden behind a tight string that tied them together. This was neo culture technology, and he belonged to the limitless set of demons. 

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"I'm not from NCT, I'm a part of wayV" Yangyang insisted as he pointlessly raised his finger in the air to prove his point.

Jeno couldn't help but let out an annoyed sigh at the younger boy. After nearly three-quarters of an hour, he was tired of the constant boyish behavior... Little did he know he acted like that too around older members.

"That's the same thing, just not in public. You're even lucky you got in, I bet no one else wanted an annoying orange" Jeno shot back. Pacing back and forth in the dark alley, shadows didn't even follow him as there was no light to give him the double life. "At least I didn't get stuck in a group named dream, with some other teenage kids. Speaking of, when are you going to graduate?"

Jeno swallowed thickly when he heard the question, his focus changing from the annoying boy to the content of the things he said. It was ridiculous to fear a simple graduation while he risked his life at least once a week. No one in the dream team dared to urge a word about graduating, scared it would speed up the process.

Where would he go once he graduated?

Perhaps his rank would be higher as he moved into another unit. Or this was the end of his young life in the environment, or even in the world. Time would give him an answer, though he preferred not knowing the answer to that question.

Dream was a wonderful unit as the name already stated. Wonderful enough to make it sound like they were a clubhouse rather than a gang.

"I don't know" Jeno answered truthfully, his eyes lowering towards the black earpiece in the palm of his hand. With a sigh, his fist clenched around the piece of plastic. "We should focus on the mission now. Even if we're just the blood wipers, I want to know what's going on" he said, moving the earpiece from the palm of his hand into his ear.

Yangyang was quick to follow the lead despite his natural reaction of following his own nature. The millennium kid had made his official debut to the gang in 2019, January to be exact. The training he was required to follow before that date didn't prepare him much for the real job. When he wasn't being annoying, or rather, when he was feeling insecure, he would follow the lead of older members. And apparently, this minute had hit a certain level on his insecurity meter.

Gunshot

The sound seemed to break the talk Jeno and Yangyang had between the two of them but in reality, it was the earpiece that separated their vocal connection momentarily. Nothing but footsteps and some incomprehensible words falling from voices he didn't recognize.

Gunshot

This time things seemed to get more frantic. The quiet footsteps seemed to turn into a nonexistent escape route and he could hear Taeyong yelling something to the rest of the team.

"Take the money"

Protests followed after those words, the same voice from before begging for either his life or the packs of money. But between gangs: there was no such thing as concern for justice, peace, or respect for each other. Humans were no people, they were animals hunting for the prey. 

Gunshot

That was the cue. The third gunshot existed but ended just seconds after its birth. "Go" Jeno announced to Yangyang, pushing the boy out of the alley as he followed behind.

Multitasking between looking around to check surroundings and listening to the other members leaving the site was hard, surely when he had Yangyang to watch over as if he was a toddler from barely two years old.

Time ticked by as the members did their own tasks, as many members left the site: Yangyang and Jeno entered the site, Doyoung and Kun took out their earpieces from their hideout. That's how neo culture technology worked: alone together. Each with an own task, all for one pot of money.

Between the identified color of blood and forgotten bills of green gold. Jeno found himself with one earpiece dangling on his shoulder, replaced by his phone that was currently pressed against his ear.

"I'll be with you soon" he spoke into the phone to break the silence you had offered him. It wasn't an awkward silence until you connected the soppy sounds together with him not saying much, someone else's blood was getting erased from the floor but would drip from his glove-covered fingers instead. "Just be safe, not quick," you said in a soft tone, hushing yourself just in case the walls had ears.

Jeno couldn't help but chuckle softly at your worried nature, totally ignoring Yangyang and the task that he was given. "You know me," he said into the phone, already knowing which answer you would give, and he was waiting for those exact words. Your reply followed not long after, the smile audible as you spoke, "That's why I said it."

"See you soon, y/n"

ıǝʍz

The pearly white silk protected your skin from the fitted sheet that covered the mattress. Smoothly and without friction, your sleepy body turned itself forty-five degrees.

Heaven seemed to live its secret life in your bedroom: no sounds, no such thing as too much or too little. The symbolic golden spoon-fed you and Jeno, in reality, it was made possible with money from robberies and killer contracts.

A soft sniffling sound turned heaven a little bit cold, your eyes opening from your own sounds. Your side felt uncomfortable now that you turned to it but felt the bones through layers of skin, yet, your body had no intention to make you comfortable again.

Next to you was your boyfriend, Lee Jeno, your first and hopefully last. The naturally dark roots fell over his closed eyelids, shielding him away from the miracle of a new day. His broad shoulders half-covered with the sheet, the other half showing up from where the same sheet was crumpled together.

The peaceful feeling made you blink slowly, on the verge of falling back into a light slumber. Until, in the midst of blinking, your eyes noticed the lonely dot on the sheet.

As red as love, shot through the arrow of Cupid.

Sobered up from your drowsy moment, your body untangled itself from Jeno's. Your face hovered close enough to the red dot to see that the dot no longer seemed a dot: whatever it had been before, its wetness had seeped into the sheets overnight to create something that changed the circular form if you looked close enough.

The heap of sheets suddenly felt like a rag covered in blood, and you were in the midst of it. That little dot, that tiny little dot, made you feel even tinier than the few inches it was.

"Lie down, it's cold" Jeno's voice interrupted your silent investigation. A crime scene unfolding as you still had to check whether the blood was from either of you or not, but the map with possible hints was quickly thrown overboard when your boyfriend made his appearance.

Your body was frozen in its position, your lips tightly pursed together which prevented you from giving an answer to your boyfriend. "y/n?" Jeno asked, his eyes finally opening when he realized you weren't lying down with him again. His brown eyes were greeted with your silk-covered back, your shoulders tense enough to make it noticeable. "What's wrong?" Out of worry, he sat up as well, his arm lazily slinging around your shoulder as a sign of comfort.

"Please talk," Jeno said, the hand on your shoulder pushing you into his arms but your muscles wouldn't allow that. It was then that he noticed you were staring at something, his eyes angling themselves the same way as yours in order to see what you were looking at. And that's when he saw it,

the droplet of blood on the Virgin-white sheet.

As used as Jeno was to blood and gore, he found himself staring at the little dry patch for a few seconds. Unlike your mind, his wasn't focused on finding answers to questions, he just stared with a black expression displayed on his face.

"Whose blood is this?" You asked him, your arm pushing his arm as you immediately wanted an answer. Even if it was a lie, an answer was an answer. Jeno licked his lower lip before he separated the upper and lower part to start speaking "It's mine" he uttered out, the two words coming out slow even though he finished speaking after one second.

You looked away from the blood, instead, looking at your boyfriend. A question mark seemed to be written on your face, though, it was only a symbolic sign for your confusion. "Yours?" You asked him, eyes begging for an explanation instead of your words. "Mine. When we were cleaning up the scene I cut myself on a bayonet. I forgot about it and just went to bed"

Jeno's words made you throw off the sheets as fast as possible, not that you wanted to get rid of the little droplet, but if he was telling the truth, you had to clean up the wound for him. "Fuck, Jeno" you whispered in shock as the fitted sheet was now not only white but also had a red gradient in it. The patches were still partially wet, and those that weren't had started to discolor. 

Jeno's eyes didn't follow yours this time, knowing well enough what was going on near the end of the bed. "Let me get everything to clean it up," you said quickly, not waiting for a reply as you got up from the bed and ran around the place to get the first-aid kit.

Minutes after, you found yourself and Jeno sitting on the clean side of the bed. His back pressed against the soft headboard while you sat on top of your pillow, his arm resting in your lap while you took care of the wound. While you cleaned the wound, your tough contract-killer boyfriend had winced due to the stinging of the alcohol in his open gash. He should have been used to it by now, it was something monthly as sometimes they stupidly got hurt during their robberies.

"I should have told you, but you were asleep. And it was past midnight" Jeno tried to explain to you, looking at you rather than the open wound. He wasn't the type to look at it continuously, which probably was surprising seeing his profession. "You should've" you answered to his words, not giving him more attention since you didn't want to mess up and make the cut worse. "I will next time," he told you, but mostly himself. A spoonful of lies that he swallowed down, he wouldn't wake you up in the middle of the night for a stupid cut.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jeno opened his eyes again for what felt like the second time that day, in reality, it was the second time that day. Tiredness had taken over his body after the crime scene cleanup, or two of them as he could suddenly remember how you cleaned the cut this morning.

"y/n?" He asked out loud, scanning his surroundings momentarily but was quick to conclude that you weren't there with him.

As tired as his body was, he sat up and got out of bed. Replacing his lazy sweatpants by the usual black outfit, not forgetting to layer over the bandage on his arm. No one had to know he got hurt, not even Yangyang knew as he had mistaken Jeno's blood for that of the enemy.

He called out your name again as his steps quickened once he was out of the bedroom. Panic spread through his body as he became aware of his hate for you living in your own apartment instead of at his hideout with the others. No one could protect you, apparently not even him when he was around.

"calm down, Jeno" your voice called out from the kitchen, immediately he followed the sound of your voice, and more than that the scent of fresh breakfast. The frown he unknowingly had on his face was replaced with a look of relief. "I'm calm" he answered, steps slowing down until he was able to reach out to you.

His arm wrapped around your waist in an attempt to pull you closer, or an attempt to apologize for not telling you about the wound. "You didn't even say good morning" he complained in a more playful way, needing affection as he did feel a bit down after what happened and the way he was treated by the others. "It wasn't exactly a good one," you said, trying to smile despite your feelings. Was it disappointment? Or were you just worried about him?

"I know, sorry" Jeno mumbled, his head meaning towards your neck before he placed a tiny kiss upon the skin. He could imagine that waking up to heaps of blood wasn't the most pleasant thing, he didn't have to imagine it though as he had gone through it together with you.

Your standard answer laid on the tip of your tongue, it was only a matter of seconds before your lips parted and you let the words escape. "It's fine" were those words, words that you used weekly if not daily. Jeno knew that it wasn't fine, and you knew that Jeno knew. Yet, neither of you protested against those words.

"I love you, you know that right?" Jeno asked you, his lips trailing towards the side of your face. You had a hard time not smiling, but as soon as his lips were placed against the corner of your lips, those corners curved upwards. "I know" you confirmed, your head lightly tilting to enjoy the warmth of his lips against your skin. "I love you too," you said back to him, finally turning your head for a small peck upon each other's lips.

Breakfast took place on the sofa, the two of you sitting intimately close to each other while having some minor talks. Talks about your life rather than his, because he didn't want to put you at a risk by giving you too much information.

"Why don't you live with us..." Jeno started his sentence but never got to finish as you held up your hand and finished it off for him. "It's a lot safer?" You asked, using your index and middle finger as quotation marks.

He nodded as soon as you finished what he started, nervously tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. "It's a lot safer and we would see each other more," he said. You would say yes because you would see him more, but you still said no because it wouldn't he safer at all. Moving in with him would mean that you stood in the midst of chaos, safe, but one mistake and the circle pulled you in as a guest.

"I don't know, I'll think about it," you said with a tiny smile on your lips, which disappeared due to the frozen reaction of your boyfriend. "Please do," he told you, putting down the finished bowl of cereal before he leaned back.

It seemed like he didn't care after that. Though in his mind war was going on: could he manipulate you into living with him? And did he do it for your safety or just because he wanted to be close to you?

ıǝɹp

Jeno [ 9 : 19 am ] : good morning x

The small hand of the clock had moved itself upwards while Jeno waited for a response, he hadn't heard the seconds tick by but was aware of how slow they were passing.

"Why aren't you awake yet?" He asked himself out loud, unaware of the members that were in the same room as him. Though it was Renjun who decided to get up and make his way towards his friend: as quiet and savage as he was, Renjun cared deeply and was ready to fight anyone who hurt his friends.

"What's wrong?" Renjun asked, his eyes on Jeno rather than his phone to give the man his privacy. Jeno's response was silence for a few seconds, but after a short sigh he decided to speak up. "y/n isn't answering my texts. She was busy today so she can't be sleeping" he said, slamming the phone against his free hand in frustration and worry.

Renjun couldn't help but smile to himself at Jeno's contradicting words. "Did you hear what you just said?" He asked, trying not to laugh because it was cringeworthily adorable to see Jeno worrying so much about you. Jeno didn't reply as he didn't see the point, he knew well enough what he said: you were busy so you couldn't be sleeping, which meant something must have happened to you.

In his head he was already imagining how another gang broke into your home and killed you without mercy, yet, he saw your alive form in his imagination.

"y/n is busy, that means she can't reply to you because she's doing other things. You said so yourself" Renjun pointed out, snapping Jeno out of his filthy imagination. Perhaps Renjun was right but that didn't stop Jeno from worrying about you, and yes, he had reasons to worry about you.

In the meantime Chenle had also joined, his read resting on Renjun's shoulder as he was listening to the conversation. "I think Renjun is right about that. y/n is probably busy, you just said that yourself so why are you expecting her to reply?" the youngster inquired. It wasn't a real inquiry as the two other boys were just trying to make Jeno see the context of the situation and the reason why you weren't replying to a simple morning text.

In their eyes, it had been merely one hour that passed by, in Jeno's eyes it was like you hadn't messaged him all week. It couldn't be ignorance, you would never purposely ignore him, not even on your worst day. The image of someone killing you continued to live on his thoughts.

"I bet you're right" Jeno concluded, his phone dropping on the little coffee table in the middle of the living space. His lips carried a fake smile, unable to kill his thoughts despite the tries of his dream team.

Everyone could see the smile was fake. Even Hendery who was on the other side of the room could see the fabricated facial expression. But no one spoke up about it: not even Renjun and Chenle who had been trying to guide him through the thorny path just seconds ago.

The minutes continued to pass by, it seemed like time had no motive to move forward, perhaps it even wanted to move back to another moment in its big fragment album.

When Taeyong walked in, the time had seemingly decided it was time to follow the leader. "I got our next mission" he declared, holding the big white envelope between his index and middle finger like he was proudly showing it off to the twenty guys in the room.

He opened the envelope, handing everyone a little bundle of white papers. The Korean writing on it revealing who they were supposed to kill, whether they had to take money, and if they could elegantly kill the person or if it would be a bloody job.

"We're killing this man for our mission. He's forty-one years old, one of the better people for his age... At least in his job." Taeyong quickly described as his own information sheet was thrown on top of the table, he knew his victims before they were even his. "Just a bullet through his skull, as elegant as possible. Clean up the scene and that's the job" he continued his plan, it became clear this wasn't a twenty-one people job. A maximum of five people could be assigned to this, otherwise, they would become their own victims.

"Price tag is 100.000 for the hit. Divided by the dream team who will do the job. Jaemin will lead the team and cast the others" Taeyong said, giving a bod as a sign that was all they had to do. Though behind the five-person job was a broader network: people who were always waiting somewhere close in case things got a red code, others who stayed at the hideout but listened through their earpiece and updated on possible information as they kept control over the surrounding streets.

Jeno glanced at his bundle of information. His eyes on the little picture of the man he was supposed to kill, unless Jaemin cast him in the cleaning team again, but he wasn't going to let that happen this time. His eyes needed only one scan over the text to get the man's name and situation, not missing how he had a daughter of nine years old and a son who was merely five. Information about a wife or partner wasn't included but guessed the man had no time for love or his children seeing his profession.

"Jeno, can you come with me? I need to speak to you" Taeyong asked seriously, his eyes on Jeno who still seemed caught up in reading the mission. Jeno looked up slowly but his eyes quickly shifted when the youngest, Jisung, snatched the papers out of his hand and threw them on the table. "Go," he said, trying to do his best on impressing the others even if he had been a part of the team for years.

Jeno nodded his head slowly, getting up from his seat and followed Taeyong towards the empty office space. Once both were in, the door was closed and silence filled the space like furniture was supposed to do.

"Something wrong with you?" Taeyong asked, his arms crossed, and yet his posture seemed open enough to trust him. Jeno shook his head at first: not ready to tell him how he was worried about you, and not ready to tell him even more than just that. "Nope" Jeno answered, his casual speech making him lore suspicious. And Taeyong who saw the tiniest details knew Jeno was giving false information.

"I'm just worried about y/n" Jeno admitted, breaking eye contact as he knew Taeyong could look through him. "I knew this would happen, that's why we don't have girlfriends," Taeyong said, though the tone he said it in didn't match the words, it was sounding more caring than the words truly were. "She didn't reply to my text earlier. It's been over an hour, almost two hours, and she still didn't reply" Jeno continued off where he left earlier, leaving Taeyong’s words in the dark.

"And why are you so worried? Usually, you're too busy to even notice she didn't answer." Taeyong stated, his eyes narrowing as he needed Jeno to specifically tell him what was going on behind the scenes. Perhaps he knew what was going on, but preferred to hear it from Jeno's lips instead.

"because someone sent me a picture of her while she was outside."

ɹǝıʌ

"So you're not staying the night?" You asked Jeno just to be sure, but the way he was preparing his gun didn't make it seem like he would stay the night. Your eyes picked up how he shook his head in response, his lips pursed not to spill more secrets about the contract he had signed for tonight. You would be the one killing him if you heard he was going to kill someone who had two young kids and still half of his life to live. You just didn't understand his job, which was the reason talks about that were nonexistent.

You nodded in response to his little signal, your phone clutched in your hand as you tried to hide a bit of the frustration. Fighting about this wasn't common, but arguments were as for him it was just a delete button that he had to press, while you saw it as killing real humans who had something to live for.

"And I'm going out with Dream after that" Jeno said quickly as he looked up at you, hoping that part would make you smile a bit. And to his surprise, that smile appeared on your lips. "Finally some time for yourself" you commented just as he expected you to. For some reason you always liked to see him doing his own things: going out with his friends, exercising because he loved doing so, going outside without a gun hidden behind his zipped up jacket.

You stood up and let out a silent sigh as you stepped towards your boyfriend. Once he was close enough, your arms wrapped around his body from behind, engulfing his body as you wished he would be safe tonight. "Be safe" you whispered, your nose pressed against his shirt to take in his homely scent.

"Always," Jeno said, his hand brushing over yours as they connected on his stomach. He noticed your smaller fingers under his, his hands standing out more due to the veins and the silver ring around his finger. As a promise he would be safe and come back to you, he slipped the thick band from his finger onto yours. "See if as a promise for now," he said, his body turning towards yours to look into your eyes. You looked surprised, still tense but he could also see a bit of relief upon your face. "You should take my necklace as a piece of good luck," you said, your hands reaching behind your neck to unclasp the piece of jewelry. Once you removed it from yourself, you carefully put it on on him.

"I love you" he whispered as he smiled, the relief you had on your face, reflecting onto his as well. He was more worried about you than himself: even if he stood at a bigger risk to get killed in the mission. "I love you too," you said back with a smile, your hands resting behind his neck where you just clasped the necklace.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips, showing you indeed how much he loved you. His arms snaking around your body to hold you close: the fear of losing you still played in the back of his mind even though this time he had managed to hide it well from you.

"I should go now, I still have to get to the hideout and get the others" Jeno whispered against your soft lips, hesitating as he was trying to pull away but the warmth kept his lips glued against yours for a few seconds.

It wasn't him who eventually pulled away as you did, leaving his lips completely after one last peck. "You really should" you whispered as your body separated from his, the lack of warmth making you wrap your arms around yourself. Jeno nodded in agreement, knowing if he didn't leave now, the mission could go horribly wrong even if it was only a few minutes late.

"you don't need to tell me to be safe, I already know," he said with a small smirk on his lips, knowing you wanted to tell him those words once again. You let out a small laugh, your boyfriend knew you a little bit too well. "Still, be safe. And have fun with the boys later" you said, a soft and calm smile on your lips as you tried not to worry too much about your boyfriend... Even if he a part of the best gangs and contract killers, that didn't mean others couldn't make him a victim.

His hand brushed over yours as he walked past you, his presence leaving out of the door as soon as his body did as well.

The fortune-teller in your minds was right, troubles were on the way, even if you hadn't believed now. You would be a believer by the end of the day.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jeno held the old-fashioned glass with liquor in one hand, the ice cubes within it making a slight ringing sound as the glass was moved towards his lips again.

"Does it take that long to clean up?" Renjun asked with a deep sigh as he glanced at the entrance, waiting until the door opened and the two youngest dream members walked in. But nothing seemed to happen, even if they had been waiting for half an hour already. "Jisung might have gone home, he can't drink anyway" Jaemin answered, an oversized wine glass standing in front of him which made the red liquid cover a part of his face.

Jeno didn't answer as he kept on glancing at the bar, his eyes on the man who seemed to sit there and enjoy his drink alone. "who is he?" Jaemin asked curiously as he tried to catch a glimpse of the man's face. Even though Jeno didn't come alone, he stood up, took his glass, and looked apologetically to his friends. "I have to talk to him, we just know each other," he told Jaemin who didn't seem satisfied with the boring answer.

Jeno went over to the bar and placed his glass down, catching the eyes of the man by just his manner of doing so. "Jeno," the man said with a slight smile on his lips, welcoming Jeno to sit next to him and talk for a little while. "Didn't expect to see you here. You dropped out before we knew it" Jeno said soft, his hand resting under his head in an attempt to look more interested than curious about the ex trainee.

"I wanted to make it alone in the world. More money for myself, fewer chances of getting caught." The man said, his wise words leaving an impression on Jeno even though he wasn't planning on leaving NCT just to get more money. "How about you? Are you still part of NCT?" He asked but already guessed the answer as he remembered Jaemin and Renjun from the few times they had seen each other while training.

"I am. I think I found my place there" Jeno answered with a smile, it felt sentimental to smile while thinking about his group of friends even though they were killers and did other things that no one was supposed to do. "You seem like you belong there, NCT is getting big. You deserve to be a part of it" He answered, his hand loving to Jeno's back to give it a little supportive pat.

Jeno's eyes shifted to the entrance as the door opened again, revealing not only Jisung and Chenle but also the other sixteen members. "I should go," he said to the man as he quickly got up, not wanting to be guilty of talking to someone else who did the same as him. He stood up but instead of going to his friends, he first went to the back of the club to try and call you.

His fingers were quick to find your contact within the list as the amount people that he saw outside of his gang were limited as well. The sight of your contact name already made a smile appear on his lips, he was just in love with you.

The beeping tone made him expect that it would last no longer than a few seconds. At this time of the night, you probably weren't asleep yet, in fact, you were probably waiting for his call. It was like a routine built up for nights when he wasn't going to be around you and yet when he wanted to update you.

"y/n?" He asked as he heard his line being connected to yours, the smile on his lips already prepared for what you were about to say. Slowly the corners of his lips tired themselves out when silence was his only reply.

Jeno repeated your name once again, the phone pressed tightly against his ear like that would make him hear the silence better. "Hello? y/n?" He asked, this time louder in case you hadn't realized you were on the phone with him.

Without realizing, he swallowed away the worries that collected in his throat. His heart seemed to beat slightly faster and out of slight panic, his fingertips quickly made an end to the one-way conversation. Yet, he kept the phone in his hand just in case you would call him back right away, or just to call your number again within a short time.

His feet to him back to the bar as he saw his glass still as filled as before, though, not awaiting for him as much as an unfamiliar black envelope did. The young man he had talked with minutes ago was gone as he had never been there, or like he had been replaced by the envelope.

Jeno's hands were curious and grasped the clasp envelope from the bar and between his two fingers, scanning the paper case for a handwritten message or name. Though only the black color greeted him from every angle possible. It didn't take long before the flap was undone from its glue and opened up.

Nervously his hand stuck inside the paper wrapper, gripping onto anything that his fingers could sense. He felt tense as his hand slowly revealed itself again with all of the collected documentation.

A picture was flipped between his fingers, his eyes unprepared for the image that was burned on the retina just seconds later.

"y/n" he whispered quietly as he stared at the picture of you. Jeno's eyes went over every little detail of the picture: your eyes closed but not entirely, your hands that weren't in the picture but from the angle of your arms they weren't really placed comfortably and your knees that were pulled up towards your chest like you were freezing. Something definitely was wrong.

Wildly Jeno began to look around in the club, searching for the culprit as the envelope couldn't have flown itself to here. His eyes began to examine all of the people around: the members who seemed all occupied in their own thing, a small group of girls who were just having a drink, the people on the dance floor acting drunker than they actually were. But where was the barman? Jeno was about to suspect him until he saw the man return with a few bottles of champagne.

The other documents in the envelope were forgotten as he went to his group, more specifically, Taeyong as he would know what to do. The urge to not say anything and go straight to your apartment overpowered him: anyone was a suspect, even his best friends.

Rational thinking didn't seem to pop up into his mind, straight away leaving the place together with the evidence. Even though he came with the others, he was stupid enough to run all the way to your apartment.

His veins were filled with dynamite

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Steganography

A message within a file, that was what Jeno was staring at. The message had been revealed on the back of your picture, or the picture of you. His eyes scanned each syllable slowly even though, together they would form words that would turn into sentences once they were put together.

Invisible ink. Just those two words didn't sit well with him, and then he wasn't even thinking about the odd fragrance that was now stuck to the picture. Did he ever use invisible ink? No, but he knew people who used it. And those people were a little too close to him.

"It's do or die."

Jeno mumbled as he read out the words, staring at the unfamiliar handwriting until something else caught his eye. In the right corner of the picture was an address written, together with a very specific time. The place he knew all too well: another dark alley between a couple of houses that were open for rent, but no one was willing to live there because it was infamous to be a dealing place or even worse than that.

The words on the back of the picture slowly turned invisible again, so slow that Jeno didn't even notice how they faded before completely disappearing. He didn't need to see them again: it was printed in his mind like the image of his first kiss with you.

He turned his wrist and checked the time, mentally checking if it was close to the time that had been asked of him. "Shit" he silently cursed when he saw that in fact, there were only a few minutes left before he was supposed to be at the given address. Without thinking twice, he bolted from your apartment and started to run the way to the alley, hoping he would get to meet the person who had you captured, but wished it was you who just tried to pull a prank on him together with one of his members.

Though his wish wasn't granted, he didn't need a genie to tell him the wish he made was impossible, he knew it as soon as he stood in the middle of the alley, being over five minutes later than planned. It didn't feel like you could be there, this probably was one of the places you wouldn't even go because you knew what went on once innocent people found themselves in the midst of the gangs.

Silent footsteps made Jeno want to turn around, getting tense at the thought of someone being behind him. His fingertips reached behind his jacket, merely touching the grip of the gun but was interrupted by someone roughly pushing him forward against the brick wall.

Jeno's breathing sped up, perhaps a bit of fear jolted through his body and made his hands tremble so much that the light grip he had on his gun turned into non-existent. Out of habit, his head slightly turned to look behind him but as a result, his head was pushed against the wall roughly.

"where is y/n!" Jeno said loudly, his voice breaking the wince he was about to let out after getting his head bumped against the wall. The sound of a gun cocking made Jeno's eyes get darker, and just like he expected, the cold object was placed against the side of his head in order to keep him still. He was focused on that and that only, wanting to hear every little sound so that he could defend himself when things got out of hand.

Once more his head got pushed against the wall, his forehead falling to the side after it came in painful contact with the stone wall. It was like the world stopped spinning for a while, but once it did, he could hear footsteps running further from him.

His hand instinctively went to his forehead, soothing the possible wound in rough rubs before he turned his body around. Relief washed over him for a mere amount of seconds, until the real realization seemed to hit him: he still didn't have you in his arms, nor did he know who actually led him here. While continuing to rub rough circles over his forehead, his body bent over the lying black envelope. Once again the envelope greeted him without name written on top of it.

His bloody hand was quick to open the new piece of evidence or a new clue towards you, shaking the envelope upside down until its contents fell to the ground. A bundle of A4 papers faced him: more specifically a file that looked similar to how Taeyong received files of those they had to delete off of the world.

The handwritten text over the file screamed out his name before the picture did, the message was clear enough without the picture, and Jeno was willing to comply.

"Kill the informant"

ɟun̤ɟ

The sound suppressor attached to the muzzle of Jeno's pistol faded out most of the noise as a bullet was shot through the informant's skull. Blood spattered against the half-open window but left some small evidence upon Jeno's black coat.

He pulled his gun back as soon as he had reached it a few seconds ago, hiding it behind the long coat that was already in possession of a half confession. His eyes went to the man once more and the heap of files that were waiting on the seat next to him, minus the file Taeyong had taken with him when he left the place a few minutes ago.

A new mission for NCT, perhaps the last one now that Jeno had pressed a delete button in front of the informant's eyes. But he didn't care about that fact: he followed the path of the person who had you and didn't care how different that path was from the path he wanted to follow. Any path where you were on, was the path he would walk on too.

He stepped away from the car and left the place delict, no time for cleaning up messes as Taeyong would have made him do, no one would find out it was him. The man had more enemies than clients, and those clients were left in a dark hole while enemies were on a lovely display. His eyes went from left to right to check the surroundings, walking out in the open street once he saw no one else was around.

His hands were kept in his pocket before it was the two little devils that made people suspect him of unclean actions. He unknowingly wiped the bit of blood in the inside of his pockets, making the little hiding place feel uncomfortably moist and his hands perhaps bloodier than they had been before he put them there.

The walk to the hideout was longer than Taeyong's car ride, of course, as Taeyong drove past the speed limit. Wasn't fast driving a privilege of being a gang member too? Probably not but there was no reason he would keep the speed to its original limit at midnight. If he had known Jeno would be behind him, he would have given the younger member a ride, but that was the secrecy in friendship. No one needed to know Jeno was behind the murder of the informant and no one needed to know that Jeno was on the hunt for you.

"Jeno is back from his girlfriend. Did you get laid again, lucky boy?" Ten teased as soon as he saw who walked inside, it wasn't hard to guess as only one member was missing from the hideout, and as usual, that member was Jeno. Jeno dug his hand deeper into his pocket in an attempt to hide the blood on his hands and sleeves, clenching his fist in anger when Ten started his endless teasing.

No one could do it like Ten, sure Haechan was the biggest brat out of them, but there was no one as manipulatively teasing as Ten. The sweet smile he carried on his lips while he was at it made people want to punch him straight into the face, but it's what the boy did best. "I didn't," he said, holding himself back from saying that he hadn't been around you since you'd been kidnapped, but he wisely shut his mouth before the tea boiled over the pot.

"Admit that you did. You're such a pussy" Ten shot back and rolled his eyes, a laugh escaping from his lips as he seemed to see a flustered look in Jeno's eyes. Protective sub-leader Kun gave Ten a shove against the shoulder in order to stop the Thai man from provoking even more "stop it" he whisper-yelled although it was loud enough for Jeno to catch the words from a distance.

Jeno looked away, missing one last smirk that Ten gave him. He was about to go to the room he had for himself in the hideout, luckily he was the one who didn't have to share a room as his roommates would have easily found out what happened behind their backs.

"Meeting time" Taeyong announced right before Jeno was about to walk away from the others. A fake hum left his lips as Jeno turned around again to face his group. "Can I change first, I've been running from y/n's place to here and I'm sweaty" he said, making up the excuse without thinking twice about the unathletically long coat that covered his body, and the fact that there was no droplet of sweat running down his defined facial features.

"An hour. You all get an hour and now stop complaining" Taeyong answered unexpectedly, making Jeno get away with the lies he told and he wasn't planning on waiting another few seconds so that Taeyong could realize the lies. He went to his room at a fast pace, his hands urging to take off the coat before he even entered his room.

The bedroom door closed behind Jeno, shielding him in his own little cocoon for a maximum of sixty minutes. His mind ran overtime while Jeno tried to empty it from all thoughts: his layers of clothes getting taken off like a book revealing all of its secrets.

The blood-covered coat got its original spot back in his closet but with rolled-up sleeves, and the gun back in his drawer where he would always keep a gun out of safety. Despite it being after midnight, the reflection of the mirror picked up how he changed into a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. So formal for no one and nothing.

He picked up his phone from the bed before sitting on the spot where his phone lied before. His fingerprint unlocked his device so that his eyes didn't have to stare at the picture of you and him for too long, he didn't want to be reminded of the fact that he wasn't able to protect you. Even though he didn't want that, he found himself scrolling through heaps of collected messages to and from you.

Text messages that had been keeping souvenirs alive from even before you disappeared: messages that had been kept into his phone for months, messages that he would read whenever he felt down but couldn't reach out to you. Each time he scrolled past a sugary sweet message, he smiled at the memory of even sweeter memories with you.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Jeno brought his hand up to his eyes as soon as the feeling of being awake brought him back to reality. A cold but painful material scraping over his skin as he was in the process of rubbing his eyes, which made him pull away and open his eyes faster than the light allowed him to adjust to the new situation.

He opened the palm of his hand, still a little drowsy from the abrupt awakening, making something fall from his hand and onto his lap.  A silver necklace chain leading the trail to the charm of your necklace and his ring dangling from it as well.

His fingers tightened around the silver, lifting it in the air to examine it. His eyes soon enough fell to the charm that had been yours until you gave it to him as a sign of good luck, he would have smiled at the memory if it weren't for the ring dangling next to it. The same ring he put on your finger just a little over a day ago.

As the band twisted itself around the chain, Jeno's eyes continued following each little movement it created. He could clearly remember the way he slid it onto your finger like he would when he proposed, he could even remember how he said something about a promise.

The tight grip became a clenched fist as realization seemed to spread through his body, eyes never tearing away from the necklace. Looking at it wouldn't give him an answer to the simple question in his mind, but at least he received a hint. The hint that would open a new path towards you: and he was going through every little obstacle to get to you.

His fingertips began to thread around the little chain, consuming it within his first until only the little clasp was left to see. He could feel the charm leaving its print in the palm of his hand due to how hard he was squeezing the material, the pain was nothing compared to anything he had ever felt, but everything was nothing compared to losing you.

"it's one of us," Jeno told himself quietly, knowing very well someone - the culprit - could be listening from outside the door. His footsteps were loud as he approached the door and swung it open rather roughly which made it slam against the plain wall.  The hallway didn't seem as empty as it always had been, perhaps because he knew someone had been in his room the moment he fell asleep.

A hesitant step was made, glancing right, and left to get a better view of the hall. Even though he couldn't see anyone, it was hard to convince himself that no one was here: the others could be in the main space or in their own rooms, perhaps even out of the house. But out or not: it was one of them.

With forty minutes left before the new mission meeting would start, Jeno dashed from his room to the common room, his head wildly spinning from one side to the other to get a glance of those that were in the room. After a brief glance, he had managed to count all twenty people that needed to be there but still, his eyes weren't able to detect the perpetrator.

"Something wrong?" Jaehyun asked, immediately receiving Jeno's eyes on him. Jaehyun looked as confident as usual, especially with the deck of cards in his hands like he was sure that he would win the game already. Around the same table as him sat Taeil, Mark, Hendery, and Doyoung waiting for the cards to be dealt. "You look as if you've been visited by a ghost" Hendery pointed out, laughing at his own words even though they weren't funny. "Grab a drink and join us, we're not playing for money this round" Taeil said after silencing Hendery's loud laughter by just giving him the slightest slap on his thighs.

Without responding, Jeno used his eyes to go over everyone once more before he turned away and went back in the direction of his room. Not one of them looked like they were capable of kidnapping you but at the same time they all looked like suspects in his eyes: the words Hendery said nearly made it sound as if he had been in the room, and Jaehyun's confident glance gave away a little too much pride. Members who hadn't said anything seemed a little too quiet to be innocent.

Jeno reached to his room again and sat back at the same spot where he found himself falling asleep earlier. The piece of jewelry tightly clutched in his hand as his mind was drifting towards you again, the pretty memories overshadowed by the feeling of betrayal. Twenty possibilities but who was the hidden cynosure?

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ (this involves a listing system with flashbacks so don't read if you don't want to)

Taeyong and Ten "It would be better if I was the leader," Ten said to Taeyong, a smirk on his lips as the younger boy provoked even more by sitting on top of the desk. His fingertips lingering over a couple of files that laid around, hoping to get burned before anyone would see them. "I don't think so, you'd kill one of us" Taeyong answered Ten, not caring if the words were straightforward, everyone knew it was the truth. Ten could kill either of them for the leading position, but in reality, all of them would. "At least I wouldn't withhold money as you do, Taeyong"

Taeil "I get the first shot, I'm the oldest" Taeil announced as shots were being poured into the tiny glasses, more than half of it spilling past the mini-glasses but everyone seemed to blind to notice. "So that's one of the benefits of being the oldest?" Xiaojun asked in a rather playful way, though was not prepared to receive the attention of a pair of serious eyes. "If you'd only know my benefits, you'd feel poor."

Johnny, Jaehyun, and Mark "Do you think we should mislead him?" Mark asked with a tiny devilish laugh as he looked at Doyoung in the distance. Jaehyun's half-smirk didn't disappoint, showing off his sweet dimples but the smirk was what made it mischievous "I think we should" he said to Mark but looked at Johnny. Johnny twirled the car keys around his finger while he listened, of course, he was willing to mislead Doyoung, anything so that it wasn't him who had to clean up the blood. "Get out. We're leaving."

Yuta "Do whatever you want, I don't want to be a part of this" Yuta said as he raised his hands, instead of surrender it was a sign of how he wasn't going to participate anymore. The body of a man who wasn't meant to be killed hanging over the table as his last breath had been let out minutes ago. Some furiously began to clean up the mess in order not to get caught, but Yuta only watched as everyone worried. He sat on his knees, picking up some fallen money and shoved them into his pocket behind everyone's back.

Kun and Renjun "Tell my parents that I'm dead," Renjun told Kun, his expression staying blank as he said the words. Kun shook his head almost right away, sighing in disappointment. "Why would I do that?" Kun asked, glancing around the room to see if anyone was around, no one seemed to be around but walls still had ears. "They have been calling me non-stop and they don't need to know I like killing people for a living!" Renjun exclaimed, nearly showing his phone to the older member but stopped himself as he didn't want to give too much private information. "You shouldn't like killing people, Renjun" Kun said, trying to keep his voice down as the light footsteps seemed to come closer to them. "You shouldn't either, yet you did it for fun before joining us, right?"

Doyoung, Jaemin, and Haechan How was it that Taeyong's office was opened in the early hours of the morning? Did he leave it behind like that after he drank too much and forgot about the secrets that he was supposed to keep? "Look at the money" Jaemin whispered as he pulled Haechan inside of the office without hesitation, the pink-haired boy saw no problem in going inside to take the money. "Doyoung?" Haechan asked with a smirk as he saw an older member being nosy, or more than that, taking the bills of money out of the desk drawers. "Aren't you supposed to share with us?" Haechan asked, faking more interest while he looked at Jaemin with a slight smirk. Caught in the act. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed, nosy kids?"

Winwin The gunshot made everyone in the scene look up, but Winwin didn't seem to catch their eyes, his attention was on the prey and the prey only. The young man that was barely older than him limping in any way that was free to go, but a hunter wouldn't let his prey escape, right? Another gunshot filled the silence of the room, blood splashing right before the man's body hit the dirty ground. "Winwin, stop," someone told him, but Winwin had no intention of stopping himself. He went up to his victim, kicking against his body before the third gunshot left its mark on the man's forehead.

Jungwoo and Jisung "How are we supposed to set this up, Jungwoo!" Jisung screamed worriedly as he looked at the scene in front of him. Used bullets covering the floor but no victim in sight, simply because the victim no longer was a victim after he ran from the scene. "I don't know, just make fake blood and tell Taeyong he's been killed!" Jungwoo said, his voice filled with worry but also disappointment in himself. Jisung was about to speak and tell Jungwoo it was an impossible idea, but before he could even start, Jungwoo had already laid a new idea upon the table "we'll just kill someone else"

Lucas and Yangyang "We could easily disappear now" Yangyang whisper-yelled to the other WayV member, the hideout quieter than ever before as they were the ones who stayed there to lead everything and watch over from their position at home. "And what? Let the others get killed in this mission and have no money. The one who survives will hunt us down" Lucas said back, trying to make Yangyang change his mind. Though the youngster was hard to convince when the genius ideas took up a certain amount of space in his brain. "Don't say you don't want to. You kill everyone and I take the money" Yangyang said, licking his lip as if the thought only made him horny. "How about you kill everyone and I take the money" Lucas answered.

Xiaojun and Chenle "Let's burn down these files," Chenle said as he collected all of the papers that he found, all files of people who had already been robbed from their existence in this life. Xiaojun gave Chenle a look and got up from the chair "hang on, I have something else that needs to get burned" he said as he quickly ran to his room, took the object he wanted erased and returned. A couple of minutes later the two of them stood by the fire, watching evidence burn. "So what did you throw in there? Chenle asked, curiosity taking him over. "Invisible ink, needed it once or twice" Xiaojun answered casually.

Hendery Hendery's gun was aimed at Ten, or more specifically at his head like he was about to end the man's career before it even reached its climax. "Do you wanna die?" he asked, his finger on the trigger which made Ten reach his hands up in surrender. The power that Hendery felt made him spin some degrees to end up at another possible victim "do you wanna die, hm?" he asked Mark, a maniacal laugh slipping past his lips as he was unable to hold himself back. Power was a great thing, was it not?

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

"So in front of you, you will be able to see the new mission," Taeyong said as he motioned to the papers in front of every member, laid out unlike usual which made Jeno glance from bundle to bundle just to see if his was any different from the others.

Before falling out of tone, he held up the bundle of papers just like the others. He pretended to be interested in what he was reading, but his eyes not once read the text that was typed down in black syllables. Another sense of his was working hard on its job, despite the fact that it had to be hidden.

Invisible ink. Or at least the scent of invisible ink imprinted on the last page of the little bundle, probably the last page as it drew less attention than on the first one.

Everything Taeyong said went in one ear and came out of the other one, but this time Jeno was smart enough to sometimes reply with a hum, yes or no. From what he understood: there were no people that stayed at the hideout, no one to clean up the mission as it was too serious to waste time or leave members. A lot of money was promised, but only if the mission went exactly like it had been asked of them.

"When is the mission?" He heard Winwin ask Taeyong, the blonde-haired boy already mentally preparing for the fun he would have. Though at this moment it wasn't Winwin that Jeno suspected, suspect number one carried a different name.

Xiao Dejun

Why was Xiaojun his first suspect? Because he had seen Xiaojun burning the bottle of invisible ink together with Chenle. But Chenle didn't matter in the story as he hadn't been the one saying he used the bottle of invisible ink.

Jeno glanced at Xiaojun from time to time, each time his eyes got darker as he felt his heart beating faster. Luckily Xiaojun was too busy with pretending to listen to their leader, pretending, just like he seemed to pretend to be everyone's friend while he was the devil in disguise.

"Tomorrow," Taeyong said shortly, since it was included in the file and Taeyong wasn't the type to waste his time answering stupid questions. "But leave. I don't want to see any of you in this room, I have things to take care of" he said, urging everyone out by using his strict voice.

Without holding himself back, Jeno stood up from the chair and disappeared from the eyes of the others. The file was tightly gripped between his fingers, not noticing how he was crumpling the paper out of anger. Footsteps and voices followed behind him: he could recognize Lucas speaking Chinese to Hendery but had no idea what they were telling each other.

He quickly opened the door to his room, and as fast as possible slammed it shut once he was inside. It was as if outside his room a war was going on: all suspects but no one who dared to admit their deeds, despite doing it for a living pretty much. His mind traveled further, to the point where he started to imagine all twenty members being against him and coming up with the plan to kidnap you. Though, he still had some trust in a few of them… his dream team belonging to those few.

A couple of minutes later, Jeno found himself in his bedroom, reading the message that had been written over the last page of the bundle. It was faint but Jeno could see it clearer than it actually was. The set of numbers was not just a set or a code to decipher, it was a phone number presented to him. It had the same amount of numbers as a phone number and started with the right combination to belong to the country.

Jeno dropped the papers on the bed and frantically began to look for his phone. The sheets on the bed getting messier with each rough roam his hand did around the limited space. "Fuck" he cursed silently as he remembered, and not a second after, fished his phone out of his back pocket.

The faint number had stopped showing itself but Jeno needed no reminder, his memory was still fresh despite the many thoughts ghosting through his mind. His fingertips pressed each digit carefully, almost making sure that there was no chance to make a mistake in the phone number. Lastly, his finger hit the call button before he tightly pressed the phone against his ear.

"…Jeno"

Your voice made Jeno sit up straight even though in nervousness, he stood up from the bed, ready to come and get you wherever you were at this moment. He nearly forgot that you were kidnapped and unable to randomly leave whenever you wanted, even though, it had never been confirmed someone kidnapped you.

"y/n, it's me, Jeno" he whispered into the phone, using his second hand to shield over the phone. One of his feet kept on turning from left to right as the bundle of nerves in his stomach was slowly getting bigger, it was already a good thing it couldn't explode.

He listened to your breathing while you listened to the sound of his voice and cherished it for the shortest seconds in your lifetime. "Jeno, I'm sorry" you whispered silently into the phone, it seemed like you were close to the phone one second but further away from it the next, so, Jeno could guess that you were shaking and unable to control your voice. "Don't be sorry y/n, you're going to be fine. I'm going to come and get you once I figure out where you are" he said to you, trying to calm his voice so that you would calm down as well.

"You have to do something for me. There's a mission" you said to his surprise, another mission, the sound of that only made him more nervous as there were once again chances that he would fail. No one told him what it meant if they failed, but there was that little ugly spark that told him exactly what would happen if he did. "What is it?" he asked, taking a deep breath to prepare himself.

"You have to…." you started but halted before you said anything more, the words getting stuck at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to say them but you could feel the guilt washing over yourself before you were even able to pronounce the name of the person that would be dead within days. "You have to kill Taeyong."

Jeno swallowed thickly when he heard what mission number two would involve. His ears heard it right as the voice in his mind was able to repeat the words over and over again until the name Taeyong would no longer exist in his mind. "Taeyong?" he asked you softly, keeping his voice as quiet as possible just in case someone was listening from the next room or just out the door. Perhaps Taeyong was the kidnapper and just wanted to see who Jeno would choose for at the end of the story.

You let out a soft noise as a sign he was right when he said Taeyong. Jeno knew you were selfless enough to think that they should kill you instead of Taeyong, but also knew you deserved another chance to live which was why you didn't tell him to choose Taeyong.

"Who did this y/n? You have to tell me everything you know" Jeno asked, he had no idea if his previous guesses were genuine. By now, he had already suspected everyone at least once, but he couldn't put the label on when he couldn't even guess properly who was capable of doing something like that. "D-did you hear me wrong?! I said kill Taeyong, not Taeil, not Jaehyun. Between. Between now and tomorrow" your voice stuttered over each word that passed your lips, clearly, this wasn't your original message.

Jeno was quiet for a little while, to let the words sink in, yet, he couldn't help but hear footsteps on your side of the line. The shaky breaths you let out against the phone, making it clear someone was around you, and that someone was monitoring your words. "Between?" he asked silently, praying the speaker wasn't on so that it was only you who heard him instead of one of the twenty possible options he had in his head. "Exactly," you said back to him, almost letting out a sigh of relief when your hint had been successfully delivered to him.

"Listen to me y/n. I will get you out of there, I will do anything to save you" Jeno said in a softer voice, knowing now that the message had been delivered, there wasn't much time left for you to talk to him. He wanted to continue speaking to you for hours, but he was wise enough to know how time was money, and in this case, time was a bigger chance to lose focus and get caught. "Be safe" you whispered soft, tears were streaming down your cheeks as a gun was placed against the side of your head, it cost you a lot to not scream and get killed that second.

"Always" Jeno whispered back into the phone, hearing how you were crying silently from the way you said the words. He wished he could embrace you and tell you that all was over, or better, that all had been a bad dream. Though he could pinch his skin over and over again, and open his eyes in the same dimension. His mouth opened to speak again, but the abrupt beeping tone made him close it again.

Not Taeil, not Jaehyun.

Between.

Suspect count: six

sɥɔǝs

4:59 am

A sleepless night and yet Jeno found himself being filled to the brim with adrenaline and nerves, more than energetic, he was left restless after what happened some hours ago.

Jeno would lie if he said that his mind had ever stopped producing thoughts in the past hours, the thoughts only doubled themselves until he went over every possible suspect and worked out a fitting theory for them. But outside of the possible suspects, there was also the fact he was going to shoot a bullet through the skull of the person that gave him a new chance in life. Lee Taeyong.

He forgot for a moment between his six suspects, there was also the leader he was so fond of, that exact same person that gave him his life here. If he killed Taeyong, what was going to happen to NCT? What would happen to each one of them? They were nothing without Taeyong, despite WayV leader Kun's presence.

His thoughts momentarily got killed when the office door opened and after a second was slammed shut once again. What followed after were Taeyong's footsteps going through the common room and towards the door that led outside, darkness out the hideout made his plan entirely possible right now.

Jeno was silent enough as he followed behind Taeyong, knowing the older male wouldn't have one single idea that someone was keeping up with the pace of his footsteps. The walk outside began to get darker with each step further from the hideout: darker because of what was going to happen but at the end of the tunnel, there was a light that would lead Jeno to find you again.

The thought of finding you seemed to speed up the pace of his footsteps, or perhaps it was because he saw Taeyong sneaking between a small street that had old buildings on either side. The dark figure of Taeyong was still easy for Jeno to recognize, though easy to recognize didn't make him an easy target. Together with Ten, Taeyong was one of the better people in his profession, followed up by Jisung who had the skills but had too much of a soft heart to eliminate people from the earth.

A tiny grin was hidden on Taeyong's lips, his tongue running past his lower lip as the sudden catch and shoot game revolved around him as the head character. How did he figure out Jeno was behind him? Simple. There had been twenty pairs of shoes at the door whilst no one had left the house, and then again, which loser that wanted to play a game like this left the light in the common room on at that hour of the day?

Taeyong's feet quickened once again, the straight street making it easier for him to get lost in the darkness like he was an almost invisible shadow on the cold ground. Not even two meters away was his little game buddy: nearly like they were sitting next to each other in the PC room, two different views in one single game.

Though Jeno was left one step behind as the narrow street no longer seemed to give him little hints on where Taeyong was, absorbed in the darkness which almost made it seem as if he was alone here if it weren't for the strong presence that Taeyong left behind wherever he went.

Jeno quickly moved further into the little path he knew Taeyong followed, a mix of emotions filling his heart but no space to let it out in this narrow place. His fingertips wrapped around the gun that he had been hiding in his coat pocket, and with one little finger flick, the safety barrier was now turned off. His only worry: where was Taeyong?

"What game are we playing, Jeno?"

Two pairs of footsteps came to halt right at the same moment, a crossover making it seem like two cars wanting to go over the intersection at the same time, and neither of them were playing it fair.

Jeno thickly tried to swallow away the bundle of nerves he had, his hands gripping tighter in the pocket of his coat, his index finger on the trigger as still, he was prepared to play the game until he made it to the finish.

"I don't think we're playing here," Jeno said as he slapped away Taeyong's hand that was dangerously close to his shoulder. Though his hand retrieved as soon as a sharp object came in contact with the tender skin, the cold metal only meant one thing: a knife.

Jeno slowly turned his head to the right to see Taeyong standing there, the knife in his hand paying a little bit too much attention to the exposed bit of skin on his collarbone. "That was still tolerable for a first hit, right?" Taeyong asked, the grin on his face never disappearing. Jeno had to keep in a wince: feeling the blood seep from his hand onto the ground, the contrast of the warm blood running over his cold fingers only made his head spin more.  "I don't think you know what tolerable is, how would you know? You kill people for a living" pushed past his lips, mentally hitting himself in the face to keep him from getting distraught by the thought of you or the wound on his hand.

"And you do? If I'm correct you're the one who came with a plan to kill y/n's ex and never told her about that dirty little secret. I bet guilt never tasted as sweet as when the bullet hit his non-existent heart" Taeyong pointed out, his tongue running over his teeth as he was trying to make his words more intense. Now that Taeyong said the words, Jeno felt the bittersweet lies on the tip of his tongue. The only gunshots that were memorable to him, combined with the facial expressions of your ex as soon as he knew his end was near, the way he didn't smile in the end which only brought more peace to Jeno's mind at that time. "I didn't kill him for the laughs, I did it for y/n" he protested before Taeyong could continue to dig into the past, a past where there were more truths than lies, at least that was when Taeyong did the digging. "Ah, I get it. You did it for the money so that you could buy y/n the necklace, paid by the money of her ex… You're right, that's real love"

Jeno's hand moved as he tightly gripped the gun and pulled it from his pocket. "I'm sorry Taeyong, I'm going to eliminate you," he said, his words faster than his actions as his finger managed to quiver over the trigger whilst he brought the gun up towards his leader. A loud laugh left Taeyong's lips, the heel of the knife hitting against the gun as a sign there was no way the gun was going to get unloaded by the end of the little game. "Why is that? Out of all twenty possibilities, you choose me?" he asked a little more seriously than before.

The tip of the knife pushed against Jeno's exposed collarbone, drilling into the skin before the younger male had a chance to stop his leader. "Say it" Taeyong spat out, his eyes getting wider as he saw a wound under the tip of the knife. The cold caress wasn't going to end anytime soon if Jeno kept his lips pursed like that. "I'm going this for y/n," Jeno said, his lips no longer pursed which made a wince leave his lips before he could stop himself. Why did this hurt more than getting shot by the enemy?

"True, I nearly forgot, that makes it tolerable"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Unknown [ 9 : 42 pm ] : failed

Jeno's eyes were greeted with the six lettered word on his iPhone display, after exactly fifteen seconds the word said goodbye and faded out on the screen. The tight grip on his phone seemed to fade along with the brightness until the little device made a soft landing on his lap.

He ran his fingertips through his black hair, all possible scenarios colliding in his mind, but there was no conclusion to take at the end of the day.

After the early encounter with Taeyong, his suspect count had gone down to five. There was no way Taeyong could be a suspect: who would ask to get killed by a younger person, especially the leader of the gang. It was like he scribbled over Taeyong's name in his mind and didn't bother looking at the scribbles once more.

Without realizing, his fingertips went up to his neck, ignoring the plaster-covered wound on his collarbone as he delicately touched the necklace around his neck.

His fingertips caressed over the little charm dangling from the silver chain, feeling the initials of your name but also his own name at the back of it. Love gifted to you with money from your ex-boyfriend, he no longer could deny Taeyong was wrong when he said those words earlier.

Next to the chain was the ring he had given you with a promise, his own ring as it didn't feel like you. It felt like his ring, that he simply gave to you together with a promise he couldn't keep. His finger slid between the silver but pulled back before it could steadily test around his finger.

Unknown [ 10 : 08 pm ] : immediately

The phone lit up again as soon as the same number sent another text to Jeno's number. This time Jeno didn't hold the phone in his hand while reading it, from his lap, he had an excellent view over the text even though he didn't want to see it.

Before the standard fifteen seconds were over, his phone's brightness decided to stay together with a new message addressed towards him. This time more than one word, more than just stupid pieces that didn't bring him closer to you.

An address.

Jeno glanced at the time on his phone and let out a sigh as he realized this was the moment he had to choose: D-day which basically was a mission where a lot of money was involved together with the entire team, or saving you from the hands of one of those teammates. How was he even meeting up with one of them when not even in an hour, they had to be at a completely different location for the endgame.

He stood up from the bed and immediately started to collect a heap of objects he could possibly use in this momentum. A gun without silencer as he was done with little games, his phone just in case he would receive more hints than just the address, and of course his usual coat that would somehow have to replace a bulletproof vest.

Cynosure

His footsteps were loud as he ran from his room into the common room, barely put on his combat boots, and with a loud slam left the hideout.

He didn't even notice how his team members had been staring at him as if he was a fool, but no one was willing to help a fool. Though rather than not willing, it was the case of not being able to as Jeno hadn't shared the context with anyone.

The person who knew the most was walking amongst them, and surely that person wasn't lenient enough to help him.

"Where is he going?" Jungwoo asked as he sipped from his late-night coffee, knowing there was not one chance to yawn during the upcoming hours. The sweet taste of sugar in coffee made him blind to the bitter situation his younger member found himself in. A dart was thrown between Jungwoo and Doyoung who was about to reply, hitting the board with a light thud. "Going to y/n, get some dick before we get our victory," Haechan said as a giggle pushed past his lips, eyes never breaking contact with the dart that found itself pinned right in the middle of the board.

"he knows the rule: if he doesn't participate. More money for the rest"

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

The soles of Jeno's shoes seemed to get worn out a lot faster than usual, these days he seemed to live in the black pair of combat boots. But today they felt exceptionally worn out compared to yesterday.

The combat boots helped him to run through narrow streets. Streets he had never seen even though he found his way through them with ease. Both left and right seemed to end up in the same streets if it weren't for the little name tags and numbers upon the brick walls of the building.

His footsteps faded out as he tried to pause his running. His breathing deep even though he wasn't out of breath or tired from running. His eyelids covered his brown eyes as he tried to recall the address in his mind, even though he was sure he knew, he wasn't confident in trusting himself.

Silently and without a word, he repeated the address inwardly. Once. Twice. And when he lost count because he was so focused, he knew he could continue with his mission.

He picked up his pace again, needing only a couple of seconds before he was at his maximum speed once again. His eyes wildly drifting to everything suspicious around him: every little letter on white tags and every number next to a door. Wasting time was something he didn't do when the first few letters didn't match with the address in his head, he no longer would spend time on it.

It was like he was running through a maze where every little path ended up somewhere in the middle of nowhere. His feet were finally starting to get tired and painful from the neverending fight against time and a stranger that actually was his teammate.

Jeno ran past another little path, scanning the surroundings rather than the tag that was right in front of his eyes. As soon as he wanted to look in front of him again to continue, his eyes met the name from up close. Two steps passed the little street, his feet came to an abrupt halt.

This was it.

The tip of his shoe was dragged against the ground whilst taking a step back towards the little street to his left. The big two steps from seconds ago, became small and slow steps to make himself more camouflaged in the darkness.

He turned his body to the street before he was able to take his first step towards the new path. The repetitive setting staring at him as he felt like the main character, especially when his eyes didn't meet with any of the suspects.

"I'm here, what do you want from me!?" Jeno shouted loudly as his first step forward happened right in the middle of his sentence. His eyes didn't see anyone around, yet, he had yelled out to anyone willing to hear him.

This time it wasn't him getting stared at, his eyes moving clockwise around his surroundings. The houses that seemed to be evenly abandoned like the others, the shards of glass lying on the ground between the cobblestones, the bags of trash collected against one home which made the smell less than pleasant.

Why was he alone?

After hesitating due to his thoughts for half a minute, he started the path further into the street. The stench of the bags of filth filling his nostrils more and more with each step that he took.

It was like the odor took over more than half of the thoughts in his mind. The thoughts he had disappearing rather than being replaced by other thoughts.

Your fragrance.

Jeno swallowed away the fictitious thoughts until the odor solemnly remained.

His nose attempted to identify the strange mix of scents unknowingly. His footsteps following the progress by taking tiny steps towards the place where the scent was only getting stronger.

A molecule of your fragrance contested with the unfamiliar but unpleasant odor as he got closer to the bags of trash. The stench seemed to lose its battle as Jeno limited himself to the molecule of you around him.

Other senses helped him to find more particles of you: his hands spread in order to feel something in case you were close, his ears ready to focus on the sound of your voice, his eyes moving from spot to spot.

You were the cynosure.

His vision stopped at a low point that seemed to catch his eye due to the little details that didn't match with similar positions. Between the different colored trash bags, he could see a white piece of fabric sticking out slightly.

Kneeling down, Jeno started to investigate the piece of fabric from up close. Luckily the ground managed to keep him steady upon seeing the little droplet splattered on the white fabric.

The droplet of blood on the Virgin-white piece of clothing.

As used as Jeno was to blood and gore, he found himself staring at the wet patch for a couple of seconds. Fragments of time seemed to travel through his mind, taking him to one specific moment.

The time the two of you woke up together, his blood resting between both of you after he got wounded during one of his tasks.

This time, the blood wasn't his.

His fingertips no longer delicately wanted to touch the piece of evidence. Instead, his hands started to roughly move the trash bags out of the way.

His fingers were hurting from the dirt they pushed aside but it didn't stop him from moving the last few to the middle of the street. For some reason, his eyes hadn't seen the slow reveal that happened with the removal of each bag, perhaps because he feared what hid underneath them.

On the other hand, his eyes had no choice but to watch the result unveiled. A lump of air got trapped in his throat when the sight wasn't what he predicted.

Around him, the world continued to spin and he felt dizzy living in that frame of time. Together with the rest of his body, his skin felt numb to the salty tear that fell from his eyes and onto his cheek.

"y/n" Jeno whispered as his hands roughly grabbed your white-clothed shoulders, shaking them which only gave him a fabricated response.

Seconds silently ticked by as Jeno waited, or hoped for a short response to push itself past your lips. His hands remained upon your shoulders as he waited, the grip tightening with each second that ticked by. "y/n c'mon" he nearly begged, the last bit of hope soon making space for grief.

A loud wail left Jeno's lips as you had no response to give. Your lips parted but not one word escaped from them, yet, Jeno continued to stare at them as if you would move them to speak any second.

"I'm so sorry" Jeno whispered through the sobs that left his lips, making the words incomprehensible as they had to make space for his emotions. His hands were no longer tightly attached to your lifeless body, instead, he found his fingertips trembling inches away from your face. Too scared to caress the face he had kissed hundreds of times.

His head hung low, allowing the tears to fall onto the dry ground. A cough left his lips once he managed to catch a glimpse of the large red spot that coated the upper half of your heavenly-white outfit, under the lace he could see how the elegant prints had been colored in by your blood. Despite dry heaving, he held the coughs quiet, giving his cries the full freedom.

Your fingertips that seemingly were holding onto something non-existent were resting in the middle of your lap, placed like an old doll. Jeno took your hand in his, ignoring the liquid that was no dripping between the connection you two had. He brought your hand up to his face, making it rest against his warm cheek as he continued to free his emotions from their cage.

"y/n" Jeno whispered quietly, your fingertip brushing against his upper lip as he quietly moved your fingertips to place them where he would want to feel your love. The way your thumb would move over his upper lip and slowly run over his cupid's bow in the process. His lip pouted merely, pressing a little piece of affection upon your cold skin. "Sorry for not being able to keep the promise" he whispered to you, swallowing as he felt the silver chain of the necklace nearly burning through the pockets of his pants.

He pulled out the little piece of jewelry, staring at it with hatred in his eyes. How could a stupid piece of jewelry ruin his beautiful moment with you? His view changed as he remembered the ring was his promise to you, held in his hand as it gave him a chance to make a new and lasting promise.

"always" Jeno whispered, remembering quite a few times where he had used the word to indicate that he would be safe, and each of those times always took the second meaning that he would come back to you. He detached the ring from the necklace, holding it between his thumb and index finger. Delicately, he slid the ring back onto your finger, sealing the promise with the gesture.

Tears fell from his eyes, cleaning away bits of your blood away from his cheek. Blood could be washed away, but pain couldn't. Around the heart filled with love, a layer of pain had coated itself.

Always.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Unknown [ 10 : 58 pm ]  : game over?

Jeno furiously wiped under his swollen eyes as the brightness made him incompetent to read the message that had been sent to him. Though rather than retrieving his eyesight, he got rid of dried-up tears upon his skin.

His eyes read over the two simple words that formed an unneeded question together. In his eyes, it was obvious that the little game had been played, and he was chosen as a first place in being a loser. His game had cost him more than his life was worth, and no matter what price he paid, there was no second chance in which he could prove he deserved to win.

That's when real life and memories started to collide again in his head, not like they did before by ruining him even more, but by realistically telling him there was a mission to finish. D-day was what they called it, and now he realized why it was named that beforehand.

His exhausted pair of feet continued a further unknown trail once more. Silently, he called himself crazy for doing this after what happened, but it felt like a dedication to you... Even though the knife of hope, had already gone through his heart to tell him off.

A couple of minutes after his watch had announced eleven hours passed noon and one hour before midnight, he found himself in the unknown place. The oversized garage door merely opened, but he still managed to crawl underneath it until it left a little tear in his jeans.

It was still around him, no voices that would usually shout at one another for the next stage to finally start. Jeno looked around, trying to be noiseless as he walked further into the seemingly empty storehouse. It was Yuta's long hair that managed to catch his eyes first, but once he looked past that, he noticed the circle his members were positioned in.

Jeno took an unexpected step towards his members, causing someone to uncover himself from behind the large columns. The stranger wearing a combat helmet together with a completely matched black outfit underneath, yet, the black lettering on the uniform gave away that they were faced with authorities.

Within seconds, a dart was tossed towards the police. Jeno was quick to move due to his reflexes but noticed the person that was meant to get hit, wasn't so lucky. The first gesture set the rest into action as more police members revealed themselves from hidden positions, making eyes of the NCT gang widen at the unannounced reveal of the authority.

Gunshot

Jeno's eyes were quick to follow even if he wasn't able to see the bullet until it had been planted in the enemy's shoulder, yet, he turned back to Chenle and smirked at him as praise. His own gun safely stored the pockets of his outer layer of clothing, his hand already on the trigger for the moment he had to pull it out.

Bullets seemed to fly around everyone, lacing them in a spiderweb that they could hardly escape as every bullet was aimed towards one of them. Though, bullets didn't plant themselves in his skin when he moved around just like everyone else did.

"Taeil!" Jungwoo's voice echoed through the hall as his soft voice was suddenly louder than ever before. The tall boy dragged his older friend towards the nearest wall but was instantly killed by a bullet going through his vital organs. His body falling right over Taeil's as the two first victims were eliminated by the enemy.

Jeno barely heard what was happening over the noises around him, he had heard Jungwoo's cry for Taeil but his eyes hadn't picked up how his clan now existed of fewer people than before. He pulled Jaemin aside roughly, shooting at an officer who immediately landed on the ground seconds after the shot was fired.

Right in the middle of the place, between large columns and higher placed people, Jisung found himself crouching over his best friend Chenle. Tears pooling in his eyes, but before they fell, it was his body that hit the ground.

"Shit, Jisung is down." Jeno heard in the background as he looked towards Renjun who was torn between his two youngest friends or continuing to fight for whatever was left. He was about to move to the center to get to the two boys, but it was Lucas who took over the job. Unfortunately for the team, temporary informant Renjun had lost the battle when his eyes had lost focus of what the mission really was.

Jeno rested his back against the column, his eyes taking a little too long to figure out who was going to be his next target. The role of one of his possible targets had been swapped around, as one second later, a gun was aimed at him. His hands reached up in the air, shakily trying to keep himself steady against the column. "Sorry" he mumbled but his voice easily disappeared between the bullets and shouts of other members. His fingers already went up to his shirt before the bullet was planted on the left side of his body, immediately coating his black clothes with a layer of blood.

A cough left his lips, immediately triggering his gag reflex as a spoonful of blood dangled down his parted lips. He slumped down against the column despite his fingertips trying to scratch the material in order to keep him standing. His head was pounding, between all of the sounds around him, he faintly managed to hear you telling him to be safe.

Always.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅

Monochrome

One shade of black, one tint of white, ten different palettes filled with grey. That was what Jeno's eyes detected when they opened for what seemed like the first time in months. He could only state in front of him, the surroundings not revealing themselves as their dull colors refused to show him what was going on.

An unexpected grunt slipped past his lips when he tried to set his body straight against the cold support in his back. That's when the pain had announced itself and he finally became more aware of the things around him. His hands were coated in blood, as red as love was supposed to represent.

Red was the first real color his eyes saw at that moment, turning the pallette of grey into a never-ending set of colors samples when he looked up from his hand and to the open space around him. His lips held a silent sound of surprise back when the colorized truth came to life.

Exactly nineteen of his teammates on the floor, recognizable by their hair colors, facial features, or body types. A few other bodies scattered around, people who didn't know but were hidden behind protective helmets in order to keep their identity safe. He could see Taeyong lying on the floor, facing him and his eyes were still opened like he was staring into the soul of his younger member.

Jeno licked over his lower lip, unexpectedly drawing in the taste of blood with his actions. His mouth already had an odd taste but knowing the red liquid was covering his tastebuds made him spit it out. The remains ending up right at the corner of his lips, not further than where it had been seconds ago.

"Thought your heart would have been crushed by now," A voice said which made Jeno look up, his eyes weakly scanning the person in front of him even if he could recognize the voice without seeing him. He swallowed thickly, struggling as the metallic taste of blood was pulled further into his body. His lips slowly parted again, some dried blood hidden within the cracks of his lips. Words were mouthed, not spoken as not one sound broke through the momentum.

Instead of speaking, Jeno weakly presented his gun, holding it up a few centimeters as he was too weak to hold it higher. The meaning behind the gesture was unclear, even for himself: did he give himself over to the game, did he want to live in peace and willingly lost because of it?

The older man kneeled in front of him slowly when he saw the gesture Jeno made, seeing it as an offer even though it was a perfect opportunity. Because as the unspoken rule said, who participated got more than the others: and he was the only participant left.

Beneath the black unbuttoned shirt, Jeno could see the bulletproof vest upon his skin. A simple trick that twenty other people had forgotten about despite it being something classic in the world that they lived in.

"any last words?" He asked Jeno, turning the gun around in his hand so that it was aiming at Jeno. Whilst he waited for Jeno to answer the question, his hand helped the gun to find the right angle. Jeno didn't even notice how his hand was lifted up and wrapped around the gun, his index finger resting upon the trigger.

Be safe

"Always" Jeno silently said as his tired eyes stared at the man who once was his friend. Jeno felt a finger over resting over his, immediately feeling the tension if the trigger getting more intense. But gave himself over to the feeling before it even came.

Images of you flashed through Jeno's mind as he tried to find relief in his future, a future he didn't have unless it was with you somewhere in a dream in a dream. Unknowingly his eyes went over the number and name engraved on the gun, yet, in his mind, he read the numbers of your anniversary and your name right next to it.

Gunshot

The cynosure of no eyes was left standing alone between dead bodies, the gun dropping on the ground as he stood up and gracefully walked away from the game he finished playing. Gameover.

960201, Kim Doyoung

Author’s note: 

Helloah, you have reached the end of cynosure! I hope you liked the fic despite the perhaps sad ending (I didn’t cry). I decided to write this in celebration of 5K followers: thank you for 5k, it seriously means a lot to me to know that people like my writing and look forward to reading it!

Anyway. I hope you liked cynosure and if you have any feedback/questions about the fic, I’ll gladly respond  <3

#neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #nct reactions #nct soft hours #nct smut #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct angst #nct au #nct fic #lee jeno #jeno #jeno x reader #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #nct imagines #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno au #jeno imagines #nct drabble #nct blurb #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct dream smut

[bluewhale52]

The History of Us - Ch. 25

Synopsis: You have built your career and you have 2 rising hip hop superstars as your besties. Life is pretty good, until one drunken night that derails your life plan. How would you survive?

Pairing: ?? x OC , main characters are mostly Namjoon, Yoongi and Tae, but all 7 are present now

Fic type: text

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, fluff, angst, NSFW

Rated: R/ 18+

Warning: swearing, talk about sex and pregnancy, foreplay that includes breast touching/ massage

Disclaimer: photos are not mine, and of course characterization and scenarios of the boys are purely of my imagination

Masterlist  |  Next>>

Ch. 25 - Bombshell

3 May 2019, 06:30am

You sit at the edge of the bed, watching Taehyung sleep. Little snores escape his mouth, and his eyes twitch occasionally, and you wonder what he is dreaming about. His hair has grown longer now, and you have come to adore the soft curls that adorn his face. You smile at how much his hair reminds you of a King Charles Spaniel.

You brush your fingers over his hair, not wanting to leave just yet, but you know he is not going to wake up anytime soon. You wish you could just sleep in with him, but with the success of your best friends’ tour, you know there are a lot of things to do and plan for the rest of the year and even into the next year. You are determined to give them the world tour that you have promised.

With one hand rubbing your back (the back pain is becoming a daily occurrence, as all the pregnancy books and blogs have warned you), and one hand on the bed as an anchor, you push your 27-week pregnant body up. You gasp lightly when you feel a fingers wrapping around your wrist.

You sit back down and turn to Taehyung, who is blinking his eyes to rid away his sleepiness. His voice hoarse, he asks, “What time is it?”

“Early. Go back to sleep.” You gently answer.

Rubbing his eyes, Taehyung sits up and looks at the clock at your bedside. “Noona, it’s so early.” He blinks a few more times. “And you are dressed for work. Why are you leaving so early?”

“I have to leave the office early to get ready for that gala.” You answer, rolling your eyes. Hoseok has reminded you all week that he will be brining a stylist and a make up artist to your office at 4pm on the dot. “I don’t understand how I’d need three hours to get ready. I mean it’s just dress, hair and make up; I could do it all myself in under thirty minutes.”

Taehyung lies back down on the bed, chuckling. “Always so efficient, my darling.” He rubs your arm and yawns. How does he still look so handsome when he yawns? “I’m sorry I came home so late last night.”

You shake your head in understanding. “It’s ok, how was it by the way? Your bro-date with Seokjin?”

“It was good, I’m really glad we did that.” He rubs his chin. “It’s nice to have that one on one talk, you know?”

“Put your mind at ease?” You ask carefully. You know Taehyung has not been the most receptive having Seokjin in your and his inner circle, and you have been extra careful to keep the balance between your boyfriend and your baby daddy.

“Yeah,” Taehyung lets out a long exhale. “We talked a lot. And I think I needed that more than he did? I was being very honest with him, maybe I was being too honest, like I told him all the reasons why I didn’t like him.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Wow, and how did he react?”

Taehyung scrunches his nose. “I hate that I put him in a corner like that. But...” Taehyung trails off, you stroke his leg, encouraging him to continue. “I wanted him to know what he’s put me through. Although you know most of it is my own overthinking. That was so cruel of me, right? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Yeah, that’s quite mean, Tae.” You reply in a low voice.

“But he’s such a good guy, Noona, like despite everything I said, he was still willing to listen and not retaliate at me. There are so many what-ifs going through my mind now he’s in the picture. He makes the effort to understand where I was coming from, in terms of you, us, the baby... he even bought me ramyeon.”

You burst out laughing. “Oh dear Taehyung, he knows your weakness.”

“Don’t tease. But yeah, we ended up eating ramyeon by the river, and then we just talked. I mean, really talked, and not about the three of us, but you know..” Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair.

“Like friends.” You conclude for him. Taehyung nods. “Well that’s fantastic, I’m happy, Tae.” You try to bend down to kiss him, but your pregnant belly is in the way. You pout. “Come up here and kiss me, daddy.”

Licking the corner of his mouth, Taehyung sits up and scoots closer to you. He wraps his big hand around the back of your neck, his fingers burying themselves in your hair. “You can’t call me daddy and expect me to just kiss you, darling.”

You sigh contentedly as he presses his lips against yours. “Maybe I want more than just a kiss.” You murmur. Taehyung hums as he continues to kiss you, then you abruptly pull back.

“So you’re good with Seokjin now, right?” You ask as Taehyung presses his body closer to yours, his lips start moving to your jaw.

“Yes, we’re good, darling.” Taehyung huffs as you push him back.

“OK, good, because it’s difficult for me to play mediator all the time between you two. And, Taehyung, stop it!” You squeal as his lips latch onto your neck and his hand sneaks up to cup your breast. “We’re not done talking about it!”

Taehyung is covering your neck with kitten licks, you have been very stern about him not to mark you on areas you cannot hide. “Hmmm, we can talk now,” he answers between licks. His hand is massaging your breast harder.

You moan his name as you feebly try to push him away again. “We always do this, when we need to talk, ah!” He sucks at your collarbone, interrupting you.

"We have the best talk when I’ve got my cock deep in you.” Taehyung mouths at your neck again. He glances at the alarm clock. “What time do you need to be in the office?”

“7:30.” You breathe out, voice thick of neediness.

“Good, shall we see how many times I can make you cum in thirty minutes?”

-------

3 May 2019, 13:20pm

You slurp another forkful of spaghetti bolognese as the door to your office opens. Namjoon and Seokjin walk in, followed by Yoongi who grimaces at your lunch.

“Noona, seriously, do you even eat anything else?”

You wipe your mouth. “What Little Miss wants, Little Miss gets.” You watch the three men standing around awkwardly before you. Something is up.

“Is everything OK?”

The three of them look at each other, before Namjoon speaks up. “About the gala tonight, there’s something you need to know.” He turns to Seokjin. “Hyung, I think it’s best you tell her.”

Seokjin rubs his face repeatedly. “OK, promise you won’t get angry, please.”

“We’re just here for moral support, by the way, he was too scared to talk to you.” Yoongi pipes in, earning an annoyed groan from Seokjin. You put aside your spaghetti. This is serious.

“Ok,” Seokjin takes a seat in front of you and inhales sharply. “do you know a Lee Yuri?”

You narrow your eyes. “Lee Yuri, whose father is in the National Assembly? Who works in my old firm and exists in this world to be my ultimate arch-nemesis?”

“I told you this isn’t good.” Yoongi whispers to Namjoon, who only nods sympathetically.

Seokjin seems to sink deeper into his seat. “Yes, and who also happens to be an acquaintance of mine...”

“He means fuck buddy.” Yoongi pipes in.

“Yah Yoongi!” Seokjin turns to glare at Yoongi angrily.

You look at Seokjin and your two friends questioningly,  “Are we here to discuss about Jin’s horrible choice of a fuck buddy? Because Jin, seriously of all the women you can get, really? Lee Yuri?”

Seokjin shakes his head, his ears immediately turning red. “She’s easy, OK? One phone call and.. no, we’re not talking about that.”

You stare at Seokjin, still unsure where the conversation is heading. He takes a deep breath.

“I did call her last weekend, you know for... that purpose. But that’s not the point of the story here. The point is,” he hurriedly says before Yoongi can interrupt him, “the point is, she’s friends with the owner of that god-awful gossip site that we hate and whose name will not  be mentioned here.”

Your eyes widened. Seokjin quickly continues. “She talks a lot after.. you know, and we kind of go way back,  we went to the same high school and university..”

“Where Seokjin first became fuck buddy with her.” Yoongi comments.

You look at Yoongi. “Thanks for the information no one asks for, Yoongs. How do you even know..”

“He told us.” Yoongi gestures to Seokjin.

“Not important to what I’m trying to say, but..” Seokjin tries to continue.”Well her family is friends with mine and I think our moms once tried to set us u..”

“Hyung, focus.” Namjon places his hand on Seokjin’s shoulder.

“Right, OK,” Seokjin clears his throat and glances at you nervously, “so, she knows you work here now, and that you and me are business acquaintances, BUT she doesn’t know that we’re all friends.”

You hold your breath, waiting for the bombshell to drop.

“And last weekend when I was with her, she was asking a lot about you. As if she’s trying to dig some dirt on you.”

There it goes. You remember Lee Yuri as the ultimate queen bee in your old firm, a position she holds because people offer her gossips inside and outside work relating to her co-workers, in return of, well, you suppose her attention and being accepted into her clique. She uses her collection of gossips and hearsay to manipulate your co-workers, and even the bosses and the clients.

You remember exactly how you and Yuri became enemies. She wanted the Bulletproof account; at first she acted all sweet and charming but you saw through her. You saw how she wanted to account so that she could sell it to another investor, and you would not sacrifice Namjoon and Yoongi. Not being able to take rejection gracefully, she launched an salicious attacks on you. For two years, you put your head down and focused on Bulletproof. As long as your friends’ label was doing well, there was no reason for the upper management to remove you. It annoys you greatly that even after you were fired from your firm, she is still haunting you.

“We think she's the one who hinted at your being Joon’s baby mama.” Seokjin cowers.

You swear in response. You know Seokjin’s legal team is doing its job, they have scared the living daylight out of the gossip site for publishing such slanderous article about you and Namjoon. You know they can’t afford to go to court, so an apology is soon coming. And you trust Seokjin enough that he will not say a single word about you, or Namjoon, or anyone else in Bulletproof to that snake. So, this is not the end of Seokjin’s confession.

“There’s more isn’t it?” You ask the three men. You brace yourself for the final blow.

“She’s coming to the gala tonight.”

You close your eyes and exhale in defeat. “Seokjin, you gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“She’s a family friend! My mom curates the guest list! I just found out this afternoon that she’s coming! Please don't kill me.” Seokjin begs.

“Ok ok ok...” you take deep breaths. “This is not a problem, right? There’s nothing she can do even if she sees me at the gala.”

“No, Noona, you see, she hates- HATES- you. She was saying how you stole the Bulletproof account from her, apparently your boss promised to give it to her after you were fired. And then you came here and you took over yourself, leaving the firm and all that. She is out for your blood.” Seokjin explains hurriedly.

“Well what else can she do? That site can’t say anything anymore about me and Joon.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Doesn't mean she can't tell the others, Noona.”

“She will purposely provoke you at the gala. So you have to be ready.” Yoongi sighs.

“And people will talk. They will talk and whisper behind your back. You have to be ready for that too.” Seokjin says apologetically.

“Is it going to hurt us? The label?” The four of you look at each other at your question. "You guys have great momentum after the tour, we can't afford to lose it over some gossip, guys.” You remind them.

Seokjin rubs his chin, “We’ll just have to play this to our advantage. We can get an interview with a respected unbiased journalist. We’ll just tell it as it is, let the truth be out there, anyone who tries to twist it will just be seen as petty or jealous.”

You gulp. “Tell it as it is? Including your identity as...”

“If we hide nothing, there’s nothing for them to dig.” Yoongi murmurs. Namjoon nods in agreement.

“It’ll cause people to talk, no matter how good the interview is. But... It’ll show how we are different than other labels. That we’re honest, and open, and most importantly we don’t judge.” Namjoon carefully says. “But whatever action we take in this matter, we take it only if all of us agree to it.”

You bury your head in your hands. Seokjin and Taehyung have just reached a milestone in their friendship. You and Taehyung are growing closer and stronger. You dare not think what would happen if Seokjin’s plan does not yield the result you all hope for. Your head is cloudy, you can barely think right now.

You look up at Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi. All three are fidgeting, waiting for your final call. “You all three agree to this? The interview option?” They nod.

“OK.” you breathe heavily. “OK. So what’s the game plan? Joon and Yoongs are supposed to attend with me. Would it be better now if they don’t?”

“I agree they shouldn’t go. Joon, especially you. It may just create unwanted attention.” Seokjin says. “Take Hoseok, Noona. Attending with the designer of your dress is the safest option.”

You nod your head, agreeing with Seokjin. “Does he have a suit?”

Namjoon laughs out loud. “Noona. He has one of every color.”

“Ok, that was a silly question.” You set your hands on your desk. “Ok. Ok. We’re doing his then?”

“Yes.” Seokjin answers with conviction. “And we’ll pray for the best outcome.” He sticks his hand out. You, Yoongi and Namjoon look at him quizzically.

“Are we doing a cheer or something?” Yoongi looks at Seokjin with a smirk.

“We’re not. Sorry Jin.” You stand up from your desk. “But I’ll tell you what we’re doing. We’re telling Taehyung and the rest about his crazy plan of ours. Let’s go, guys.”

You are about to walk out of your office when you suddenly turn around. Spotting Yoongi trailing behind, you ask him sweetly. “Yoons, can you get the spaghetti from my desk please? I’m still hungry.”

#bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts fluff #bts social media au #bts social au #bts scenarios #bts smau #bts x you #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts x oc #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #seokjin x you #yoongi x you #hoseok x you #namjoon x you #jimin x you #taehyung x you #jungkook x you

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Vignettes by CosmicZombie

fandom: The Borgias (Showtime 2011)

pairing: Cesare Borgia/Lucrezia Borgia

word count: 17k

is it explicit: yes

bottom line: Cesare heals Lucrezia from the emotional trauma of her marriage; this fic healed me from the ennui of being alive

It’s an S1 AU where Lucrezia returns to Rome from Pesaro to await her divorce, but Rome does not feel like home anymore and Lucrezia does not feel like herself. Pesaro isn’t just a place, you see—it’s the physical manifestation of Lucrezia’s loss of identity. That bastard Giovanni Sforza made her feel worthless, made her feel like less than nothing, and you don’t recover from that kind of abuse overnight. This fic pulls off an astounding sleight of hand where it repeatedly juxtaposes Pesaro against Rome, alien-place against home-place, and then it turns out Rome isn’t home—Cesare is home. That revelation hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Am I different, Cesare?” “You are Lucrezia.” “I—I sometimes feel as though I cannot remember who I used to be.”

She’s home but not home; she’s with Cesare but she wants to be with him more (she wants his dick inside her lol).

This fic takes its time with the slow buildup of UST, and I adore how tactile Lucrezia and Cesare are. We have tears being wiped away, nose bumps, brushing of lips against knuckles, warm breath on skin, dancing in the moonlight, cuddling, even bedsharing! Another thing I’m in awe of is the imagery: I could hear the burbling of the water fountain and I was getting sleepy just from the descriptions of sunlight. She even has a dream where she sees Cesare in her own reflection in a mirror, and it was such a disturbing image that it stayed with me. In truth it’s a dreamlike atmosphere that’s evoked here—Vanozza, Juan, Gioffre etc are onscreen for 0.2 seconds even though they’re all living at the villa together—it’s pretty tightly centered on Lucrezia and Cesare. What’s going on in the outside world?? Is France about to invade & occupy the Vatican? Is Milan in cahoots with them? Are there rumblings of discontent from Naples? Has Savonarola set Florence on fire yet? Who tf knows—not Cesare or Lucrezia, they’re in their own little bubble!!!

When other characters are mentioned, however, the context is revealing:

Juan had mocked them when they were children for being like a two-headed Cerberus

Djem had told her of Indian tigers once, how when the monsoon came after months of drought they sometimes drank so much in compensation that they drowned their own hearts in water.

That second quote!!! That’s Lucrezia being reunited with Cesare and immediately trying not to gorge herself on him. She missed him so much while she was away in Pesaro!

So Lucrezia has insomnia. Of course, before she left Rome, she used to sleep like a baby:

“Come,” Cesare said gently, pulling their clasped hands to his chest and kissing her knuckles. “Let me read you to sleep as I used to…What should you like to hear, sis?” “Anything so long as it is in your voice,” Lucrezia murmured, eyelids heavy.

This passage, I think, best encapsulates the rupture that has occurred in Lucrezia:

She wondered now that she was back how she had been able to bear being away from him for so long, but then she felt that she had not only been away from him while at Pesaro, but also away from herself. Now that she had returned she ached for both of them so deeply she felt as though it would consume her.

What a turn of phrase! She had not only been away from Cesare but away from herself. Because Cesare is her own self q.e.d. bye

“Sometimes I feel as though I no longer exist,” Lucrezia whispered, leaning her forehead against his … It is only when I am with you that I feel like myself again, Cesare.” “I would cut out his heart for what he has done to you, sis.” “What good is his heart? It will not make me feel myself again …Only yours can do that, brother, as it has always done.”

ONLY CESARE MAKES HER FEEL REAL AAAAAAA!!!

Here is where the UST really starts to build, and Lucrezia feels the little tremors of physical attraction under her abiding affection for Cesare:

she felt as though she were simultaneously glimpsing the assurance of the one thing which would never change, and flickers of things she had always known before but never truly been confronted with.

shoulders pressed together the way they had sat together so often over the years; on one or other of their beds, or the walls of the Vatican, or on this very spot – yet it somehow felt infinitely different to any of those times. He had always been her solace, in everything. Never before had he somehow been part of what troubled her.

This is a conversation wherein Lucrezia doubts she is worthy enough to experience all-consuming soul-engulfing romantic love the way it’s valorized in stories and songs:

“But you have been with women, Cesare …You know what it is to love someone, to be loved. I have not known that. I may never know it.” “You will know it someday, my love. I promise you.“ “But I do not know it now. Tell me what it is like. Tell me that it exists…Please, Cesare.” “I do not know if I have ever loved a woman I have been with in the way you describe, sister.” “Is such love impossible?” “In every sense of the word, my love.”

This conversation is EVERYTHING. I cut out out the body language but it’s like, Cesare is finishing every single sentence with “my love”??? What more proof does she want that he loves and adores and desires her above all other women?? “Impossible loves” indeed!!!

She had craved his attention and his very presence whenever he was missing from her – but she felt now that she still craved him even when she was with him. The power of it overwhelmed her and empowered her all at once, and was more consuming than her love of god had ever been.

THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER IS MORE POWERFUL THAN THEIR LOVE FOR GOD this is it this is the essence of Cesare/Lucrezia

For most of her childhood, she had lived in fear she would never find anyone else in the world whom she loved as much as her brother. Sitting amidst the wildflowers with her hair unravelling and her heart racing as they looked at each other, she knew it had been a long time since she had feared that.

Did somebody say platonic/fraternal affection shading imperceptibly into romantic attachment??? My jaaaaaam

“How many people do you think are blessed with such intimacy of the soul, Cesare?” “None that I know.”

Soulmates!!!

This is the prologue to them consummating their relationship—they rode out into the woods and the scene is as picturesque as can be:

“I do not like the way men look at me … I feel like fearful Daphne under their gaze, and just as helpless to escape them. They do not see me, they only see the pope’s daughter, a Borgia.” “I do not see only that.” “No, I know you do not. But you are different, Cesare … I cannot imagine what it would be to fear you.” “Many do not have to imagine.” “I do not fear you …But I fear this, Cesare…I fear what I feel for you when we are together.”

There’s no going back after this—they’re taking an irrevocable step in their relationship but they’re also ruining each other for any future partners, who could not possibly ever measure up.

She could feel how hard he was against her thigh, feel the urgency in the tremor of his hands where they touched her hair, feel the fevered thump of his heart where his chest was pressed against her own. For the first time, she felt as though she was given a glimpse of the recklessness which drove him when he was wielding a sword or charging headlong into the chaos of a battlefield.

Making love is actually not dissimilar to making war: the adrenaline rush?? The anticipation? The endorphins??

Oh wait no jk they don’t consummate till they get back to the villa later that night. This is my favorite passage from this fic, it’s Lucrezia running into him on the terrace after supper and really seeing him. She’s the only one who’s ever seen all of him:

Here in the shadows with just the two of them the impatient ambition and calculating intelligence that constricted him as much as his Cardinal’s red was lost, and he was just himself. The brother Lucrezia had known since she was placed into his arms less than an hour after she first came into the world, who had existed before ambition or anger in his devotion, curiosity and passion. It was the Cesare she and she alone knew, and it made emotion bloom in her chest to think she was the only person who had ever known him as this.

And then they go back to her room and bang, which is how Lucrezia finds herself again. Protip everyone: skip the Eat Pray Love and instead embark on a journey of self-discovery by banging your brother!

#cesare x lucrezia #fic rec #the borgias

[my-soul-sings]

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge  Characters: Yooha x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (last part coming soon)

Summary: An AU where MC and Yooha meet under different circumstances. 

The original prompt:

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a werewolf?” the human shouted.

“When we first met, I said I was a dog person.”

“Oh my God.”

***

It had been a week since... that happened. He had left you a string of messages, pleading for you to talk to him, but you had ignored them, as well as the subsequent calls that came. 

You needed more time to process this. In fact, you’d prefer it if you could just forget everything and not have it dwelling on your mind anymore. 

But the more you tried to forget and push all stray thoughts of him away, the more you realised just how much space he had come to occupy in your life. Traces of him were everywhere: in the extra toothbrush in your bathroom if he stayed over. A bunch of his clothes in the laundry basket. The small kitchen cabinet that was reserved only for his best bottles of wine. 

Even when you tried to distract yourself with things, reminders of him popped up in every corner. While working you’d remember the photoshoots you did together with him. The cold night breeze made you miss the smell of his cologne lingering on his scarf that he would wrap around your neck. And that bakery nearby sold his favourite persimmon bread. 

There was just no escape. All you wanted was to breathe, to stop feeling this suffocating constriction in your chest every time his smile surfaced in your mind. 

You missed him.

But you didn’t want to meet him, let alone talk. What could you say? That it was alright that he was a seon-ho? That it didn’t matter that he had basically lied to you for a whole year about something so important? That you were totally fine dating a guy who was a few hundred years old? Even though he looked like he was in his twenties and was the most handsome man you’d ever seen? 

...Then there was the question of whether you could even see a future with him anymore. You could never come up with an answer. 

Or maybe you knew what it was already, and simply didn’t want to admit it. 

You sighed, feeling a stab of physical pain to your chest. It sucked feeling like this—heartache was the worst.

You took a big gulp of beer, the gassy drink burning your throat. The breeze was cold and you shivered in your seat on the wooden bench outside the convenience store that you frequented. Somehow you always found yourself here on the tough days. A few cans of cold beers would make you feel better, you’d sleep it off and then you’d wake up, ready to deal with whatever came at you.

With some shame, you realised that it was already the third night in a row that you had come here.

Just drink. Stop thinking. A long exhale dragged past your lips as you swallowed another large mouthful of beer. The bitterness on your tongue was oddly comforting. 

You were about to chug the rest of it down when you felt a hand wrap around yours to snatch the near-empty can away from you. 

“Hey!” you yelled, ready to pummel whoever it was who thought they could just steal your drink. They could get their own beer if they wanted one, the store was right there.

But when you turned around, your voice caught in your throat, and your entire body went rigid. 

Yooha. You’d recognise him anywhere — you had even dreamt of him the past few nights. Although those dreams had been tainted by the tails that still haunted your memory.

You wondered briefly if you were still dreaming, or maybe even hallucinating. Maybe you’d drunk too much. But then you heard your name on his lips, and it made your mind snap to its senses. 

He was the last person you wanted to see right then. Or maybe it was the opposite. You couldn’t tell from the way your heart clenched and pounded painfully against your ribs. It had only been a week and yet it felt like years since you last saw him. He looked frustrated, exasperated, maybe even pissed. You couldn’t tell, your vision was getting a bit wonky. In fact, he seemed to be turning upside down... heh... 

“I told you not to drink so much if you can’t handle it. What if you pass out on the streets? At least call me if you’re drinking so I can watch over you.” You felt his warm breath by your ear, and his arms wrapped around your body in a tight embrace. The alcohol was making you sleepy and it felt nice to rest your head in the crook of his neck, just like you were used to. 

You had missed this. Missed him.

“Yooha...” His name came out in a muffled murmur against his cotton shirt. 

You felt his chest rise and fall as he released a long sigh. “What am I supposed to do with you...” 

You felt him begin to drag you away, but you were lucid enough to remember you still had two cans of beer to finish. 

With a huff, you placed two hands on his chest and pushed him away with strength you didn’t even know you could muster. He seemed equally shocked, stumbling back a few steps and struggling to keep his balance.

“Leave me alone,” you said, plopping back down on the bench and opening a new can of beer. You were about to take a swig when the can was swiftly snatched away from you again.

“Yooha!”

“Stop,” he said, tugging on your arm. “Let’s just go home.”

“No. I don’t want to.” Shrugging his arm away, you made a sloppy attempt to swipe the can from him, but he easily dodged it out of your reach. Too freaking tall. Stupid model height. 

"Please,” he said. You tilted your head, a little perplexed. Yooha rarely said ‘please’. Not in this tone, anyway. Usually he was just fooling around, or giving you a smirk while saying it because he knew you would cave and say ‘yes’ to him. 

Now, he looked uncertain. Searching your eyes for any hints to your thoughts because he didn’t know what to expect. Hell, you didn’t know how to respond either. 

Did you want to talk? No. But at the same time did you really, really want to hug him? Yes. 

The mental tug-of-war played out in your head as you pondered what you should do. Listen and go with him? Or stay here and continue avoiding your problems like you had been doing for the past week?

You probably took too long. Yooha had never been the most patient person. 

With a surprised yelp, you felt yourself being yanked upwards, until your feet could no longer feel the ground.

Your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, and you began flailing your limbs, using your fists to hit him wherever you could reach. “Yooha! Put me down!” you shouted.

“I will, once I bring you home.” 

“I can walk on my own! Just put me down!” 

“You’re just going to run away from me again. How long more are you going to avoid me for?”

“I-” You stopped short, unable to think of a comeback. Curse you and your inability to lie when you were drunk; the alcohol was seriously interfering with your brain. 

“Just... put me down,” you said. Why was he acting like this? Like he cared? “I’m heavy,” was the only decent excuse you could think of. 

“What are you talking about? You’re light as a feather,” was his reply, bouncing you twice in his arms with ease to prove his point. “Just stay still, we’ll be at your place soon enough.” 

“Seriously, it’s embarrassing.”

“No one’s out here at this time of night, it’s fine. Besides...” his voice lowered to a barely audible mumble that you thought you misheard, “I've been wanting to hold you like this for the past week.”

Well, if Yooha was anything, he was stubborn. It was clear there was no winning this argument, especially when you didn’t have the energy left in you to struggle and fight your way out of his hold. 

So you quietly wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your heavy head on his shoulder, allowing him to carry you the rest of the way home. 

You could smell his cologne... it was nice. And he was really warm too. 

A short nap sounded good for now. You could think about what to say later, when morning came. 

#wannabe challenge #wannabe challenge fanfiction #wannabe challenge fanfic #yooha #yooha fanfiction #yooha fanfic #my writing