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petite-ely · 3 years

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Afraid // JJ Maybank

five - but what if?

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (don’t swear kids), mention of drowning, mention of death, nightmares, mention of guns, mention of fight, did I miss something.

Description: after his reckless actions at the party, JJ is unable to sleep but he isn’t the only one still awake.

A/n : I don’t want to make this longer than it already is, I think I’ve talked enough lol. If for some reason you want to know why I’ve been gone for so long I’ve written a post regarding it. Sorry again for not posting in so long. If you want to chat, feel free to reach out. I’m friendly. :) please kindly tell me if I’ve made some mistakes, I’ve reread this like a hundred times but its possible some mistakes slipped.

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

Gif by @cobrazkai

Song recommendation

JJ Maybank was 14 years old when he first realized that he had feelings for one of his best friends. The thing is he didn’t know what the hell those feelings were. He had always thought that y/n was really pretty and he considered her to be one of her closest friends and that was it. Friends- that’s what they were.

But after years of friendship and wild adventures and basically hanging out 24/7, something felt different. And boy, did that scare him.

JJ was not the kind of person to be really in touch with his emotions. Being abandoned by his own mother and living with an abusive alcoholic father didn’t really help either. If anything, his past traumas only made him more disconnected from his emotions and feelings.

He might’ve been hot headed and impulsive but that didn’t stop him from feeling things, often even too deeply. The issue was naming the emotions he was feeling. He didn’t know what he was feeling like half of the time. So when it came to y/n, his feelings for her were so intense and unknown. He had never felt this way for anyone before. He was so confused.

Being around her felt weirdly homely and yet, he never really had a real home to come to. For him, it was only a house. It was a building with things he wasn’t really attached to and a man he couldn’t really call a father, despite DNA saying otherwise. Being with her felt warm and golden and it was like a drug he couldn’t say no to. He was constantly looking for ways to feel this specific way. It was euphoric. But he only felt this way when he was around her. And it felt like home.

She was the home he wanted to come to every freaking night. And he wanted to dance with her and have night long discussion and caress her cheeks tenderly. He wanted to kiss her more than anything else, his lips on hers staying that way until one of them needed to take a breath - oh what heavenly feeling that must be. He wanted to proclaim his feelings to the entire island - the entire world even.

Only he couldn’t. There was this rule, and he couldn’t break it. Usually, he wasn’t the kind of person to let rules determine what he should and shouldn’t do. But it was the pogue rules, he couldn’t break them. He couldn’t do that to his friends, regardless of his own feelings.

Love. That’s what his feelings were. It took him some time to realize it, but yeah, it was love. He was certain of it (which was rare for JJ). A first love, innocent, deep and one sided. At least that’s what he thought. How could she love him? How could anyone love him when even his own father didn’t? Who would want him?

Now, JJ had messed, big time.

He was sitting beneath a tree, at the edge of the yard whims the château, a few feet away from where the water started. His gaze was turned towards the sunrise though he wasn’t really looking at the magnificent show of colours that nature was offering him. He was thinking or more like regretting.

He kept replaying the event that had happened just a few hours ago on the boneyard again and again in his mind. The arrogance on John B’s face while he taunted the kooks, the empty, psychotic look on Topper’s face while he was holding J.B’s head underwater, his own hand holding the gun against Topper’s head. It felt so powerful at the moment and yet in retrospect he felt so stupid. What would he have done if something had actually happened, if someone had gotten hurt because of him?

In the spur of the moment, he hadn’t thought about it really much. How crazy it actually was. He saw his friend in a situation where he could actually die and only thought about helping him. He had this thing with him that could help save him, an object that take could take someone’s life in the matter of seconds. So he used it at his advantage. He had only wanted to help, but at what cost.

He kept picturing the expression on y/n’s face when he got the gun out. It wasn’t anger, no it was much worse, she was terrified. She had actually been scared of him. How could he ever make up for that. How he could he ever admit what he was feeling for her after he had brought her such terror. He had ruined everything.

What if she never forgot that moment? What if she never forgave him?

A branch cracked somewhere in the distance, and JJ turned to face whoever, or whatever, was lurking in the dark. He was blinded by the bright artificial light of a flashlight. “JJ?” A voice spoke and the blond immediately recognized it. Y/n.

“Can you please turn it off, I don’t think it’s necessary,” he responded, motioning to the clarity that brought the sunrise. It was light enough for them to fully see one another.

“Oh, yeah, sorry, “-she sat down beside him- “Couldn’t sleep?” JJ stared at her for a moment before taking his eyes away.

“Yeah, you could say that. What about you? John B snoring too loud?” Y/n gave a small laugh.

“Um, no, not this time.” Her smile went down. “I had a nightmare.” JJ’s brows furrowed.

“Not about um, not about tonight right?” He asked, guilt hidden in the tremors of his voice.

Images of the past night filled y/n’s mind. Her brother being held under water, JJ pulling the gun out, the loud echoing sound of the firearm as it shot in the air. She could still hear it ringing slightly in her ears.

A small moment went by before she finally shook her head in denial, earning a small sigh of relief from the blond (at least that wasn’t his fault, he already felt guilty for so many things). “No, uh, no it wasn’t that,” she said, her voice barely audible.

JJ stared at her face in the golden light of this early morning. He noticed the blank stare in her eyes and frowned. Nightmares, although worrying for most people, were pretty common for y/n. JJ of course knew this, yet something felt odd.

He rested his hand on the small part of her back between her shoulder blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She turned her head to meet his eyes, the feeling of his skin, warm and soft against hers sending small tingles at the base of her neck.

She didn’t want to bother him with her problems, she knew how horrible his home life was compared to what she was living. She didn’t want to remind him of this not make him feel bad about her small problems when he was facing such violence on a daily basis. Still, she knew JJ and talking about his dad was the last thing he wanted to do. And his eyes, his beautiful ocean blue eyes, it’s like they could see through her. How could she lie to him?

“I, uh I-I-“ his hand went to her shoulder and he squeezed it reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” Y/n felt her cheeks burning (hopefully he didn’t notice it). She took a moment to breathe in deeply the fresh air, calming herself slightly before putting her hand on his.

“No, I-I want to. I think it’ll help, in a way.” JJ cracked a sweet smile. “Alright then.”

“I keep having this one dream about my dad and I see him on his boat wandering. He’s lost in the middle of the ocean and he’s calling my name.” Saying those words, she really felt as though she could hear her father calling her name in the far distance, as if he was right beside her. Sadly, it was only her imagination playing tricks on her.

“And it keeps turning to this nightmare, where he dies in various horrible ways. Either drowned or starved or eaten by sharks.” JJ’s gaze softened, his eyes admiring her lips forming each words one after the other. “But tonight-“ she let go of his hand, shifting her body to face him completely, “-tonight, for a reason, I didn’t see him.”

“The boat was empty.”

Flashes of her nightmare came back to her like waves crashing on the beach. Her dad on his boat, a smile sketched on his lips. The sky is clear blue, not a cloud is in sight. There’s a warm breeze, she can almost feel it on her skin, and the sun is shining. It’s almost utopian, the perfect day to spend out in the sea.

Then the scene changes. The sky darkens to a deeper shade of blue, grey clouds towering the ocean. The wind is stronger, much stronger. It whistles as it makes its way in the crevices between each tree and threatens to tear the sails down. And the boat, she can see it floating hauntingly on the wild waves the same way a ghost would in abandoned castle. And there’s no trace of her father. Not even a feeling, that would tell her he’s there, trying to survive this storm.

“What if he really is gone J? What if my dad-“ she stopped her sentence to look at the horizon, somehow hoping to see a sign that would prove she was wrong. “I’m trying so hard to be positive and optimistic, but it’s been so long. What if he never comes back?”

The look in her eyes was heart-wrenching. JJ didn’t know what to say or do. He never really thought about it. What would happen if Big John was gone. To be honest he didn’t want to, that man was more of father to him than his own ever was. And losing him would be... he preferred not to think about it.

“I disagree,” he finally said. “What?” “Your dad is like one of the smartest person I’ve ever known. I think that, he, of all people would know how to get out of any situation, especially if it seems impossible to everyone else. I don’t think that you should give up on him yet.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he smiled. “So fuck everyone who tells you otherwise,“ y/n giggled. “Fuck all of them! You’re allowed to have hope, y/n, even after this much time. They can’t take that from you.”

“In the meantime, we’ll there’s us,” us, “the pogues, our own family. We can get through anything, right?”

“Yeah, we can.” Y/n’s head fell on his shoulder. “We’re the pogues.”

JJ admired her carefully. How her face looked, basked in the golden rays of the sun, looking so terribly tired and yet so beautiful. He could stay like this forever, losing himself completely in her smile. God she was so wonderful.

“Hey y/n/n?” “Yeah?” “Are you mad at me?” “Huh?”

“Why would I be ma- oh, oh.” The gun. He thought she was mad at him for what he did. Though he saved her brother, didn’t he? So, she didn’t understand why he would think she could hate him.

“It’s just that you looked so terrified when-” “You saved him JJ, that’s what matters most.” Y/n interrupted the boy mid sentence, placing her hand on his arm in gratitude. “If you hadn’t done anything, he could have...” she didn’t finish her sentence.

When she saw JJ holding the firearm against Topper’s head just a few hours ago, she had first been incredibly shocked. She didn’t recognize the JJ she knew. But now, she completely understood. It was his way of protecting his friends, his way of showing he cared. And that, she admired him for it. Though he could’ve shown it in a less dangerous way.

“I admit,” she added, “it was dangerous and a bit scary to see and we’re probably gonna get some kind of revenge from the kooks soon, but no one got hurt. And J.B, well he’s okay! We’re all okay!”

“Also, I’m pretty sure I did some very, very stupid things last night, so I can’t really be mad at you,” she cringed remembering the amount of alcohol influenced things she had said and done during the party. “God, I must have looked so ridiculous.”

JJ laughed at her comment. “Yes, yes you did.” “Man, John B was right, I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Asked y/n, once their laughter had died. “Depends what?”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt yourself with that thing, or anyone else for that matter.”

“I promise, y/n. ”

“Thank you.”

Taglist

@deionswannabegirl @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily

If I forgot you or if you wanna be added/removed just tell me! Also I’m sorry if your name didn’t work :/

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

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tapestry 👑 XI

Warnings: eventual dark elements (tags to be added as fic continues)

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: King Steven had a wandering eye but you never thought it would fall upon you.

This Chapter: The reader finds herself in need of allies.

Note: I thank you all for coming along on this adventure with me and I can’t believe we’re already on part 11 over here. Things will amp up in the next chapter and I’m just hoping I can bring into fruition all that I imagine. I love you all, I appreciate you all. You is good, you is kind. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply! Love ya!

You sat at the vanity as Marge plaited your hair. You still weren’t used to having her around but the ritual was soothing. Since the feast, not a week past, the king’s attentions had become more adamant, his visits almost daily. He brought his footman and his usual vows of devotion. Though now, they were underlined with darker tones.

You looked tired. You felt tired. The king was not the only royal fixated upon you. The queen did little to hide her distaste but you would not relent in your attendance. It would be to admit a guilt you did not carry. For as much as you tried, your will proved insignificant. It was upon the king’s inclination that you found yourself as you were.

That day was no different. You would break fast at the queen’s table then follow her to mass. A sewing circle, perhaps some recitation, until the afternoon meal. The women would be as they always were. Whispering and wiling away their time amidst their gossip.

Marge finished pinning your hair as you stared into your own distant eyes. “The grey hood should do.” You said.

You tore your gaze from your reflection. You waited for her to near and pull the hood over your hair. It was as plain as all your clothing. No golden tassels like the queen or embroidered flowers like Rose. Grey trimmed in black. Almost nunlike.

You stood as Marge backed away. Before you could enter the receiving chamber, a knock sounded. You stepped aside for the servant to pass and watched as she went diligently to answer the visitor. You held your breath as the hinges groaned and were almost relieved to find your father upon the other side.

“Father,” you greeted stiffly.

“Daughter,” He entered with a dull look. He glanced around the room, his eyes passive as he took in the expanse. He hadn’t even a receiving chamber for his courtly business. “You look well.”

“Thank you,” You clasped your hands together and watched him stroll around the room. Marge closed the door and took her spot along the wall.

“I apologize for not visiting sooner but I’ve been just as busy as yourself,” He preened as he turned to you. “Have you heard of my promotion?”

“Promotion? Why, Father, I hear so little of you or from you.” You returned and he sneered.

“Well, while I do think you’ve behaved rather ridiculously in this whole...affair, it has not been without benefit,” He smiled as he crossed his arms. “Did you not notice the absence of Lord Alan at the feast? Or that I took his place among the counselors?”

“I noticed but I assumed an oversight.”

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Let’s hope that sharp tongue does not see you fall as swiftly as you’ve risen.” He warned. “I am a councilman now, and still your father, and you remain within my reign. The king has yet to supersede me.”

“I could never forget my patronage, father,” You assured. “Not even a fall from a horse could shake such unpleasantness.”

“I know not how the king bears you, but I am only thankful that he does.” Your father dropped his arms, hands on his hips in a stance much like the king’s in the portrait above your mantle. “Do you not wonder how Lord Alan’s seat came to be vacant?”

“Should I wonder, father?” You asked. “And if I should, you might be quick about the explanation for I am due for my attendance of the queen.”

He chuckled. “Why, he did confess to his crime. To planting that whelp inside Lady’s Rose’s womb and he didn’t say a word when the harlot did accuse the king.” Your father could not help the delight in his voice. “The king did consider the dungeon, an axe even, but he is merciful. He did only strip the lord of his seat and order him to marry the girl so that she not continue in her accusations.”

“What?” You were truly stunned. The revelation did account for Rose’s recent absence.

“They will be allowed to remain at court but not without the stain of their sins,” Your father reached up to adjust the pin on his chest; a golden feather which denoted a member of the king’s council. “Though, I think the king’s clemency wanes.”

“Should he need clemency?”

“Oh but daughter, all speak of the crimes which do remain unpunished,” Your father preened. “And as whispers rise louder, he will find it harder to ignore the conspiracy.”

“Conspiracy? What madness do you speak of?”

“Do you think that was truly an accident?” He pointed to your arm still bound in a sling. “Hmm?”

“A nervous horse and nervous rider,” You assured him. “It was a blessing it wasn’t worse.”

“Oh, but why should the queen house such a nervous beast?” Your father raised a brow. “The creature was examined and identified. He was the queen’s newest purchase, barely trained and known for its temper, and yet, she would have it saddled out of a dozen others for the hunt.”

“A coincidence. An oversight,” You felt the heat along your neck. “Nothing more.”

“And that its saddle was ill-fitted and lined with brambles?” He ventured and his eyes lit at the shock that washed over you. “The king outfits his own men and the queen sees to her ladies. And she surely saw to you.”

“That cannot be,” You touched your injured arm. Another day and it would be without the hideous sling. “I don’t believe you.”

“You may not, but should I suggest you have your food tasted before you would nibble at it, I assume you might heed my advice,” He suggested. “The queen has her allies and though the king is yours, his friends will not be so loyal as him.” You stood straight. “Do what you can to find some of your own and realize that I am not so much your enemy as you think, daughter.”

You stared at him. You sighed and smoothed your hand over the front of your bodice. “I should be late if I tarry longer, father, and I suspect you would too. The council awaits, do they not?”

“They do, daughter,” He nodded, half a bow, “Do not take your eye from the queen.”

He marched to the door and Marge opened it for him with a quiet “my lord.” When he was gone, she looked to you. Her concern mirrored your own.

“Do you think the queen truly did it?” She asked.

“I do not know what to think,” You replied. “Or who to trust, so perhaps I should trust no one and keep my thoughts to myself.”

👑

To your surprise, Rose attended the queen that day. She was quiet and her dainty blue eyes were downcast. You caught yourself staring at her as she poked her needle into the tapestry. She did not sew, only pretended to. Her cheeks were red and blotchy and for the first time, you saw the girl behind the lady’s facade.

Joan and Beatrice sat with her as they always did but she did not answer them when they spoke. You did not know what was worse; to have been cast out or that she would remain at court to face her shame. Your own hand was slow without a second to hold the cloth and in your distraction, the fear that bubbled at the sight of the king’s former mistress, you were useless.

When you were dismissed to ready for the evening meal, you lingered and watched as Rose trailed behind the others. She shrugged off Beatrice who huffed and turned to grab Joan instead. You waited for them to depart as Rose dragged her feet. You caught up to her as the ladies turned the next corner.

“Rose,” You said softly. She looked to you and the pain in her eyes turned to anger.

“What? You here to boast?” She stopped sharply. “Can’t you see I’ve already been dragged low enough?”

“I do not wish to boast. I wish to speak to you,” You said calmly. “Peaceably, if we could.”

“Why?” She spat as she raised her head on her long neck.

“Because I am not your enemy, I never have been.” You replied. “Perhaps that is how you saw me but I never saw myself as such.”

“You think I do not see how you pleasure in my disgrace--”

“Have I said a word on it? Have I whispered with the rest?” You asked. “I think you should realize that we are much more alike than you want to believe.” She frowned but did not flee. “We both know the king to be a philanderer and entirely selfish.”

“How can you when he would still have you?”

“Because I don’t want him. I never did and for all I’ve tried to deny him, it’s only encouraged him.” You kept your voice low as you ushered her towards the wall. She followed reluctantly. “And my current favour does not set me above you, it sets me alongside you. Your fate could as easily be mine. Likely worse for I am not a duke’s daughter.”

“So you play at kinship with me? Pity?” She fluttered her lashes angrily.

“I don’t play at anything. You are to marry Lord Alan and have a child who is likely the king’s bastard. This court will not be hospitable and I think it worse that he should keep you here to abide their cruelty.” You looked her in the eye. “We are both alone here but know that you do not need to be. The king declared us enemies, that was not our choosing, was it?”

She blinked and lowered her chin. When she looked at you again, her eyes glistened. “Why don’t you hate me?”

“You’ve enough of that,” You assured her. “And I have too. We needn’t be friends, Rose, but I do not want another foe.”

She sniffed and breathed deeply. “I don’t want another either.” She said. “And I am sorry for you because you are right. We’re not so different and I would wish this on no other.”

“Thank you, Rose,” You glanced down the hall. “You’re not so thorny as you pretend to be.”

👑

After your evening prayers, you returned to your chambers to find the king awaiting you. He rose as you entered and Marge waited nervously to close the behind you. Hugh was in the corner as usual, his eyes alight but unfocused. The fire crackled and the moon shone in between the heavy curtains.

"My lady," The king greeted. "I've been awaiting you most eagerly."

"Oh," You let him kiss your hand. He did not release you as he stood straight. "Your highness, the day has worn on."

"As they do when we're apart," He grinned though his tone was laced with more. "I did think of you as I went about my daily tasks. I had a fitting done today," He steered you around to the sofa. "And I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" You tired of the king and his surprises. "You did not have to."

"Oh but I saw it and thought of you." He stopped before the sofa. "Sit and close your eyes."

"Your high--" He waved his hand to silence you.

You sat heavily and closed your eyes as he bid. You heard him move around the couch and the gentle rustle of something unseen. You folded your hands in your lap and waited. You flinched as you sensed him before you.

"Open, my lady," He said.

He held a bolt of fabric. A gentle silvery muslin embroidered with beaded curlicues. You raised your brows as you gaped at the rich cloth.

"It will need to be lined but I should like you to have a gown for the yuletide." He explained. "One befitting your beauty."

"I've never sewn with anything so delicate," You touched the corner of the fabric.

"I will send a seamstress and my personal tailor," He set the roll down beside you on the sofa. "Tell me you like it."

You stared at him a moment. Only days ago he was threatening you in a dark corridor and now he was back to his doting ways. How far could you push him before he made good on his vows?

"It is very beautiful," You smiled. "Thank you, your highness."

"I will have other fabrics sent. You are in need of a new wardrobe. Perhaps a jeweler too."

"It is too much," You protested but his sharp glance curtailed you. "I thank you for your generosity."

"For you, anything," He smiled just before he turned from you. There was another side to the words. Was he willing to give you anything or give anything to have you?

He strode to the mantle and considered his own image above the fireplace. He leaned on the mantle as he looked up at himself. The room was still and silent. Marge stared at her feet and Hugh looked at nothing in particular.

"I was barely more than your age when I stood for this," He said. "They sent a copy to every princess in the world. In return, I received dozens of portraits. I had my choice of any I pleased."

He slowly turned away from the painting. "My mother wanted Eleanor. She is a fair woman despite her demeanor. The very image of a queen. But her being does not match her appearance."

You listened nervously. You shifted as he paced.

"When we wed, she was still in love with her old prince. She wept for weeks. She tried not to show it but I knew. And she knew I did." He exhaled and hung his head. "We never truly had a hope. A marriage built on fallacy."

"And it cannot be fixed?" You asked softly.

He looked at you and tilted his head. He neared and sat beside you. He took your hand in his.

"No, because I love you, my lady." He kissed your hand. "And there is no end for me but you."

"Your highness."

You did not pull away for fear of angering him. He tugged you closer as he peeked over at his footman and then your servant. He leaned in and whispered.

"You haven't any idea of what I dream of. Of the thoughts that fill my head whenever you are near and when you are not." He squeezed your hand. "I want you, lady, and I want all of you. I swear to you that once I have you in my bed, you shall rarely leave it."

Your face was on fire and you closed your eyes in shame. You trembled and he released your hand so that he could play with a fold along your skirt.

"Even now, I think of pushing you back against this sofa and burying my head beneath these skirts. And when I finished, I would tear loose your modest bodice and reveal the womanly body you so piously keep from me. And I would have all of it. All of you."

"Your highness," You caught his hand and gasped.

"Kiss me," He slid his hand from beneath yours and grabbed your chin. "Kiss me or I shall do it."

You pressed your lips to his. His hand moved to cradle your face and he ran his tongue along your lips. You winced and opened your mouth. He slipped his tongue inside and you struggled to breath as he turned to crush you against the back of the sofa.

He parted, both of you out of breath, and slowly sat back. He hung his head as he collected himself. You stared at your sling and the way your hand trembled within.

"I can wait. I can." He said as if convincing himself. "I promise you that this will be over soon. The new year will see this matter concluded."

He stood and sniffed. He stretched and motioned to his footman.

"I must retire for the night, my lady." He announced. "See that you are well-rested. my tailor should visit tomorrow."

"Your highness," You rose and curtsied to him.

"You must start dressing the part," He said as he neared the door, "And holding yourself as such."

Hugh opened the door and waited for the king to precede him into the corridor. Steven looked back as he entered the hall and smirked just before he set off down the stone. His footsteps echoed until Marge stifled them with the door.

"My lady," She turned to you, "Do you really think he means it?"

"I…" You slowly sat and touched your lips. "I think he does."

#tapestry #king!steve #Steve Rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #medieval au #series #fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #dark!fic #dark fic #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes

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warandpussy · 3 years

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omg PLS talk more abt ur 12dole!

sure! link

fyi I barely remember writing this, all i remember is that it's super weird i suppose the point is it's about being lonely. i love s10 for the way it slows down, gives the doctor a home base, a time to breathe. but i also love how, with that, he has to deal with the demons in his head scrabbling at the door; he can't ignore them any more. like. his wife just died. so this fic was like, i want to explore that loneliness and that grief.

to be clear, it's also about the doctor getting off with a decapitated robot head.

i'll put this under a cut

The Doctor stares into the mirror on the wall.

It isn’t – it’s not something he likes to do. It’s uncomfortable, he thinks, to observe the evidence of a long life carved into a face. To confront the evidence of age and time passing, old regrets scoring delicate lines over the brow, the cheeks, beneath the eyes. He considers his reflection and swallows the lump in his throat.

It’s with a trembling hand that he reaches out to his glass counterpart, feeling that even a touch of his skin will send it shattering to the ground at his feet, that a press of his fingers against something that isn’t even him, not really, could break him apart. You’re lonely, you’re lonely, his brain cackles at him, and it sounds like –

In the end, it’s just cold, smooth. Nothing.

He runs his finger over the image of his lips, lets himself slip into memory, lets himself remember being touched there. Allows himself the indulgence of it. A wicked grin; a puff of curly hair; ‘hello, sweetie.’

so we start here. you ever been so lonely you just touch your own face to imagine someone else doing it? yeah. i guess the doctor feels like someone who never really gets to process any of this a lot of the time, because one series will end with a tragedy, and then the next one will just pick up on the next adventure. but if your wife died, you got trapped in a university with a woman who hates (?) you and a bitchy robot, you'd probably have some issues.

i wanted to start it here, on his own, because that's the thing, really. he's alone. or he feels alone. and it's a bit dramatic and over the top because when you're miserable that's what you do. the world is falling apart. i'll be alone forever.

the next scene is him and Nardole, and it's like, a drastic shift in tone

“How’s the new head working out?”

“Oh.” Nardole reaches up a hand and pats at his ample cheek. “Quite well, actually, sir.” He strokes his neck a little, tracing a light finger underneath his collar where the seam in his skin is. “Much more efficient processing power.” He gives a little self-conscious cough. “I’ve been having new ideas every fifteen minutes or so.”

“Wonderful,” the Doctor tells him, picking up Rachael Simmerton’s essay on – faith and free will, apparently – and pretending to read the introduction. It’s not, of course. Heavens above, he doesn’t need Nardole having ideas. He’ll have to fix that in a later upgrade. “That’s – fab. Great to hear.”

none of the above is coming through. he's masking it, of course he is. the worst thing about being lonely is that you can't say you're lonely, otherwise people will know how lonely you are - and isn't that to most pitiable thing. no - best to.. uh.. snog a robot head, apparently.

i wish that was how it worked in real life

i really like this scene for the banter between him and Nardole. they're so awful together. I love them.

Nardole pushes himself up with his elbows and stomps over to the Doctor’s desk. He jabs a finger in his face. “Rude. That was rude.” The Doctor shrugs. “You’ve been in my room before, and it was fine.”

“There were pants on the floor.”

“I was in the shower!”

“Ugh.” The Doctor shudders again, deliberately meeting Nardole’s gaze as he does. “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s my room, I can leave my pants on the floor if I want to.”

“My spaceship,” the Doctor reminds him. “And I don’t make you pay rent.”

Nardole rolls his eyes. “Good thing, too, given you don’t pay me at all,” he says, and trundles irritably into the TARDIS.

So yeah, the Doctor gets Nardole to bring out one of his spare heads (it's a whole thing, there's a cupboard full of heads, they have some kind of shared memory drive, the old ones go a bit insane the longer they're detached from the body).

It’s a little disconcerting, having your cyborg assistant’s decapitated head on your desk, but at this point the Doctor has seen enough of Nardole’s body, given all the upgrades he’s had to do over the past seventy years, that it doesn’t faze him. He’ll end up seeing a lot more, most likely; they’ve still got over nine hundred years still to go. This doesn’t faze him either – certainly not as much as it would have done back when they’d first been stuck here, uncomfortable in their stillness, squabbling with each other just to pass the time.

The first time he’d had his hands in Nardole’s chest, sometime in the late nineties, tinkering with the artificial heart he’d had installed, Nardole had asked him why he even bothered.

“Can’t have my manservant dying on me, can I?” he’d muttered, irritated at the question.

“Oh, is that what I am?” Nardole had bitched.

Covering his face with his welder’s mask, the Doctor let out a snort. “If you shuffle off this mortal coil, Nardole, I’ll have to hire a new assistant. I can’t be bothered.”

“Let me be clear, you're giving me eternal life so that you don't have to hold job interviews?”

“Yes.”

Nardole had looked at him for a long time after that, uncharacteristically silent. When the Doctor was done, he’d grabbed his wrist and squeezed, before standing and making two cups of horrifically sweet tea. The Doctor had drunk the lot.

i was talking about this the other day with you. i guess i tend to think there's a real power in delay, in writing. when the real scene is going on, but then the characters trip into a memory. the Doctor's nervous about what he's going to do (and, in a doylist fashion, the reader doesn't KNOW what he's going to do) so by pausing the 'real' scene and tripping into this memory, we get to hold off on that reveal for a little longer

but we also get to explore the Nardole and Doctor dynamic. which is, here, one where they bitch and squabble with each other, but they still obviously deeply care for one another. #married.

Carefully, he probes behind the left ear for the on-switch, flipping it over with a slight press of his finger. It takes a moment, but the eyes flutter open and the mouth pulls itself up into a tiny smile. The smile drops off his face when he sees who’s holding him up.

“What do you want?” Nardole snipes.

he's such a bitch i'm obsessed with him

The Doctor sighs, and buries his face in his arms. “In the past, it was always – adventure, fun, heat-of-the-moment, explosions, running, kissing,” he mumbles. Nardole grunts at the acknowledgement of it. “Now,” the Doctor goes on, “now I just sit here.”

quarantine vibes.

no, but seriously, quarantine vibes. when i wrote this in february i was working the most gruelling, horrible job i've ever had in my life, and also i was in lockdown AGAIN and i couldn't fucking go anywhere or do anything fun. my whole life just became this awful job, that i did sat at my desk at home. i'd get off work, go lie in bed and cry, and then go back to work. now i just sit here indeed.

“Main Head said he was talking to you lot daily,” the Doctor says. He gives him a look.

Nardole puffs out his cheeks. “For a few minutes, sure. But it’s not like we get on.”

“You are exactly the same person,” the Doctor says, exasperated.

me @ me

(sorry this isn't going to just be all me laughing at my own jokes)

yeah. so they make out. there's like, negotiation on what Nardole (Spare Head One) is going to get out of this deal - he wants to go outside (mood) and he wants sweets and tea (bigger mood). he also doesn't want the Doctor to fall in love with him (uhhhh biggest mood??? i feel like if the Doctor falls in love with you you're doomed to a horrible ending).

“Guh,” Nardole says, and the Doctor pulls him off, lips tingling. Nardole’s face is red, which is interesting from a technical point of view – no blood, how does that work? – but the Doctor finds he doesn’t really care to think about it at the moment. He feels suffused with life; that empty cavity in his chest at least partially filled in, something present that had been missing.

The body is made to touch, after all.

for this i really need to insist on something. this is sci fi, nominally, but i DON'T CARE about the science. i really don't. why is Nardole's face red? how does he have spit? i don't care!!!!! i don't care about worldbuilding. i think, personally, for me, the "science" part of science fiction is just about finding a way to heighten a concept to reflect back something about the real world.

also i feel like it makes it more doctor who the less i give a shit about the science but that's by the by.

i guess this is like. THE scene. the scene of the fic. the point of it.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me with you to visit her,” Nardole says, scathing. They’re wandering through the grounds, as promised, the Doctor clinging onto the ears and holding out the head in front of him.

The Doctor snorts. “You’re not coming in with me.”

“What?”

He gestures at the sports bag he’s got slung over one shoulder. “I’ll chuck you in here.”

They walk past a clump of students who are chattering among themselves. They don’t even balk at him carrying an extremely lifelike head around with him. None of them have. Nardole had said it was because he was ‘super old’ and that young people don’t even notice he exists unless he’s looking frail and delicate next to a traffic light. The Doctor had frowned but hadn’t been able to dispute it.

Still, he makes Nardole hold his expression very still whenever they’re near other people. He’s got a whole story planned out in case he does get asked.

“Professor! Professor Doctor!” some enterprising young thing would say, jogging up. “What’s with the mannequin? It looks just like your assistant!”

“Ah,” the Doctor would say, stroking his chin like he had a goatee – he’d done that once in front of Missy and she’d told him he looked very refined, and offered tips for growing one – “you see, I’m planning a lecture series on death masks in Ancient Greek culture, so I’ve been experimenting with plaster casting.”

“Oh, how fascinating!” the student would say, fluttering their hands in front of their chest. “I’ll have to sign up!”

The Doctor would nod dismissively and stride away as if he had something important to go to. Nardole would almost certainly grumble about the Doctor saying he was dead, but he’d not have a leg to stand on – ha – because he was a robot and therefore had never even been alive. (Well – maybe he had… the Doctor didn’t really remember Nardole’s backstory – River had explained it once while they’d lain together in bed, but he’d zoned out, staring instead at the fine whorls of her ear).

Anyway, no one has asked yet, but he’s prepared if they do.

again - delay, so important here. the Doctor and Nardole (Spare Head One) are walking round and about the grounds on one of Nardole's requested walks. the Doctor is Not Doing Great, but he's trying to fake it. he gets triggered into a memory where Nardole calls him "super old", and then, almost as a defence to that, imagines a world where the students (who are ignoring him) all come fluttering up to him and admiring him in that way that he likes.

that's not happening.

It’s one of those cold spring mornings where the sun casts its light over the world in a glittering array, bouncing off dewdrops, shattering through windows. The air is sharp and bright, bracing the breath, probing his lungs with its chilled fingers. Everything teetering on the verge of too much. Too bright, too cold, cutting like a knife.

I'm really proud of this paragraph. I was trying to imagine how you would describe like, beautiful weather, on a day when you felt like shit. it's "glittering" "shattering" "sharp". it "probes him with chilled fingers" - it's invasive, harsh, awful. and it triggers another memory.

The last time he’d been out, alone, on a morning like this, the Doctor remembered, he’d embraced this muchness, let it fill him up, let it consume him. He’d thought it was the only way to feel touched again. Not by a person, but by the world. Then he’d berated himself; so pathetic, so maudlin. People don’t owe you their touch. It’s enough to have felt it at all. Enough to know.

Greedy, he’d thought. Insatiable. Selfish.

He falters by the sycamore tree, dropping Nardole lower. There’d been a cat here.

There had been a cat that had rubbed up by his legs, purring. He’d been so bright, so lonely. He had it picked up, holding it upside down so he could rub gently at the soft hot fur of its belly. It had let him, for a moment, lax in his arms, blinking, squinting up at the cold sun. Then, it had wriggled and squirmed, saying let me down, let me down, and he had thought, oh, not even you?

Not even you, he had thought as he set it down again, not even you want to touch me, and it had scurried off, heading to the cafeteria where the students likely would give it scraps of bacon sandwiches and drop pieces of cheese into its pleading mouth.

“Sir?” Nardole says quietly.

"not even you want to touch me"

like, that's the whole point - what he's been circling around this whole time. he came up with this crazy coping mechanism (snog a robot head, let's not forget his solution was to snog a robot head), but it doesn't fix the root cause which is that his wife is dead and his friend/enemy is locked up and he's lonely

anyway. they go to visit Missy (Nardole zipped up in a bag the whole time).

“What’s with the bag?” she asks. “Not seen that one before. You joined a basketball team?”

“Tried that once,” he tells her. “Got kicked out.”

“You thought it was netball, didn’t you?”

He huffs a breath through his nose, smiling again. “I thought it was netball,” he admits.

Missy purses her lips, eyeing the ceiling. “Makes sense,” she says. “It’s a net, and a ball. Honestly. I would understand it if they were chucking balls into baskets.”

“Football has a net too,” the Doctor says.

“And tennis.”

“I might just start calling every human sport ‘netball’ and see how angry they all get.”

Missy frowns. “I thought I was here to learn how to be nice to the wee humans.” She raises her eyebrows, tilts back in her chair. “You’re a bad example, you are.”

This is what they do now, this talking without really talking. Lots of words that say nothing at all.

he wants to connect with her so badly, but nothing they say has any meaning. they're just talking, blandly, about what's in front of them. they're there, together, but there's no connection. you can be lonely even when you're with other people

then Missy plays the piano for him (and there's NO duet, which as I'm sure you know, means that there is NO INTIMACY)

sex joke:

When the Doctor gets back to his office, Nardole is reclined in his favourite armchair, reading a saucy magazine. The Doctor peers over his shoulder.

‘HIS SECRET SEX SPOTS’, the article screams, ‘HOW TO PLEASE YOUR MAN IN THREE EASY STEPS’.

“Why are you reading that?” he asks before he can stop himself. Nardole looks up and fixes him with a look. “Actually don’t tell me.”

“I’ve got a boyfriend.”

The Doctor blinks. “What about Sharon?”

Nardole sighs loudly. “Haven’t you heard of polyamory?”

“Your spare head hasn’t told me about a boyfriend.”

“Oh!” Nardole says, narrowing his eyes. “Is that why you wanted him? To gossip about my comings and goings?”

“I definitely don’t want to know about your comings,” says the Doctor.

sorry i promised not to just laugh at my own jokes but honestly why else would i be here

they do this for a while. then Bill catches them.

“What are you doing?!” someone squawks.

Instinctively, the Doctor surges up and flings Nardole’s head clear across the room.

It’s Bill, standing in the doorframe, backlit by the light from the corridor. She’s looking at him, her face a picture of pure shock. Horrified. “Did you behead Nardole?”

oof. poor Bill, she goes through so much.

she drags Nardole to the office, and

He swings his feet back to the floor, turns to the two of them. Three of them. “You know,” he starts, “that I have been alone since my wife – left me.”

“Died,” Spare Head Nardole supplies.

Bill’s mouth drops open. “You’re married?”

Main Head Nardole elbows her. “He was.” He spins the photo of River on the Doctor’s desk around, making as if to grab it, and the Doctor is suddenly furiously, furiously angry. He slaps Nardole’s hand away.

“Do you mind!” he snaps, and clutches River’s picture close to his chest. His breaths are coming harsh and ragged, his throat tightening again. “I have been alone,” he says at last, “for seventy years. Alone in this office, in this building, in this city.” He puts the picture frame back on the desk, focusses on straightening it out, puts it perfectly in its place. “So yes,” he says, and breathing is coming easier now, “we came to an agreement. Me and him.” He gestures to Spare Head One.

“Him and me,” Spare Head One says.

“I see,” Bill says after a moment. The Doctor has hopes that that will be the end of it, that these two might piss off now, but then Bill ruins it by continuing to speak. “So you’re lonely.”

he can't even say it, that's the worst thing. he can't even say "she died" because it hurts too much. easier to say she just left. easier. better. because then maybe she'd come back.

Nardole doesn't let that happen though. he's someone that just like... says things, as they are. he just says it. she's dead. Bill's the same. you're lonely.

she's dead, you're lonely.

honestly wtf would the Doctor do without these two.

Bill goes like... you literally have a girlfriend locked up downstairs just talk to her for heaven's sake

Bill snatches up Spare Head One, who lets out a small squeak, and turns to the door. “How about we just go and get everything sorted out? Communication’s what it’s all about, you know!”

yeah Bill! comminication IS what it's all about

the problem with her plan - which is, as far as I can tell, "get the two weird Time Lords to speak to each other, maybe" is that she forgot to account for Missy being as weird as shit as well

Missy cackles. “Of course he doesn’t.” She whips the mango off the shelf and plunges her hand into the base of it. “That’s because he’s here!” And with a dramatic spin, she whips out another Spare Head from inside the mango.

“What was he doing under there?” Bill asks, baffled.

Missy rubs her nose. “Well,” she says, pointing at Spare Head One, “he offered.”

“So you fixed him,” Bill says, “and then you just shoved him under a thing on a shelf and – left him there?”

“No,” says Missy. “I bring him out from time to time.”

Bill frowns. “What for?”

Missy’s painted-red lips spread into a wicked smile. “Kissing.”

Bill blinks at her for a second, and then rolls her eyes. “Jesus Christ,” she says. “You two deserve each other.”

there's like... symmetry to it, right? synergy. they were lonely, there were some spare heads floating around, why not have a snog

OBVIOUSLY their problem is that they don't TALK to each other, they don't acknowledge their pain and they just like... cope, in the worst possible ways. but also i think it's funny so that's why i did this

the mango is obviously a reference to my other missydole fic, where Nardole gets his head stuck in a mango

obviously

THEN we get to the REAL weird bit

“Doctor,” she says, voice low, and hands him the head. “Kiss him for me?” The Doctor chokes on his own spit. “I want to watch.”

The Doctor turns his eyes to Nardole, who twitches his forehead in a way that might mean might as well, or might mean get away from me. Slowly, he leans in. Nardole’s eyes get big and round, but he doesn’t say anything, and as their mouths touch he lets out a soft sigh. The Doctor pulls away again and turns his head back to Missy. He raises an eyebrow. “Happy?”

“Very much,” she says, and plucks Nardole out of his hands.

“No, sir, don’t let her!”

“Oh,” Missy says, nostrils flaring, “I fix your head but I’m not allowed a little thank you kiss?”

Nardole narrows his eyes. “Only if you fix me, too.” He sniffs, and darts his eyes over to Spare Head Two, who sits still on the piano watching them all silently. “Like you did him.”

“Done.”

“Oh fine then,” grumbles Nardole, and she presses a dry, almost chaste kiss against his lips. When she pulls back, he has the impression of her lipstick all over his mouth.

“Your turn again,” she says throatily, and passes Nardole back to him. The Doctor leans in again and licks the lipstick off his mouth, smearing the red between the two of them. Missy leans in and whispers in his ear, breath hot, while he does, “It’s almost like you’re kissing me, by proxy, isn’t it?” He grunts, and kisses Nardole harder.

They part with a slick sound, and the Doctor eyes Nardole’s mouth with satisfaction, the faint pink stains all over his lips. He runs a finger over them. Missy leans over, and as the Doctor turns his head she kisses him on the corner of his mouth, pulling back with an irritated scowl.

"You were aiming for my cheek, weren't you?" he accuses.

“Give him to me,” Missy says, and he complies. She stands, Nardole clutched close to her chest, and wanders over to the piano stool which opens to reveal a full tool set. She grabs a screwdriver, and starts fiddling around in Nardole’s neck.

“Oh, we’re done, are we?” the Doctor says, trying not to sound petulant, and not really succeeding.

She gives him a disdainful glance. “Wanted more, did you?”

look i just want things to be awful and horrible for them all. like these are literally such rancid vibes. i think it's funny.

(oh, another note - in my FIRST publishing of this fic, did the Doctor and Missy kiss? no. did you come sobbing into my DMs about it? yes. did I write an entirely new bit just for you? yes)

i think. there's probably a version of this where they talk more. they open up to each other more. but i liked this more quiet, subdued version, where Missy fixes the other head, and it's more about what's implied than what's outright stated. i mean, yes, i love a good love confession, but i think there's almost something more intimate about this quiet understanding.

they've kissed, she's fixing something.

he knows things are going to be okay.

and, last words to the Doctor and Bill:

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” she says. “I’m sorry. You can – obviously, you can do what you want.” She swallows. “I didn’t know about your wife.”

Oh. The Doctor puts the essay back on the desk, and opens his arms. Bill burrows into them, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You didn’t know.”

“How long?”

“We’re time travellers, it’s difficult,” he deflects. She doesn’t say anything, but pulls back and gives him a look. “About seventy years.”

Bill smiles sadly. “That’s a long time,” she says, “to be alone.”

The Doctor looks down at her hand, and holds it in his own. He smiles at her. “I’m not alone,” he says. “Not any more.”

YEAH

i guess that's sort of explicating what was implied in the previous scene. he's not alone. he's got friends. he's got a plethora of spare heads. and he's also got Missy.

i think OBVIOUSLY i wanted this story to be funny and silly and wild and i wanted the Doctor to have a really embarrassing time snogging a robot head, but i also was really trying to say something about what it feels like to be lonely, and i am like, genuinely proud of it. i think it's probably one of the best things I've written.

i wrote it at a really horrible time in my life, like i said, and i don't really remember writing it for the most part. reading it back was actually like.. good. which is honestly so nice.

like, i wrote this for like two people (hi), and myself, and it's very much my brand of humour, which is that it's funny but it's also sad because i think funny hits harder when it's balanced on the knife edge of tragedy.

SO. YEAH.

~~fin~~

#sorry this is so long i was going to do it with images but the image description only lets you put 200 characters #also i had a lot to say apparently!!!!!!!!!!!!!#spare hearts #writing

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lonely-full-of-secrets · 5 years

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Love Sacrificed (Fangs Fogarty x Reader)

Word Count: 1519

Summary: Fangs sacrifices your relationship for your future

A/n: written for the daily one word prompt challenge on the southsidearchive discord. Prompt: sacrifice

As a Southsider, you know the risks of getting involved with the Serpents. You grew up knowing the risks, nobody had to tell you twice. But despite knowing what could happen, no one prepares you for the emotional tolls it can have on you. Loving a Serpent is dangerous.

You knew this going into your relationship with Fangs Fogarty. He was the son of a Serpent which meant he would be one too, but you didn't care. When one falls in love, nothing else matters and nothing or nobody can keep them apart.

You and Fangs have been dating for almost four years. Freshman year of high school was when you met him. He didn't have much confidence back then. It was actually kind of adorable the way he stumbled over his words trying to ask if you had a partner for a project that wasn't even due for a couple of months.

Now, he was a cocky son of bitch. Fangs already knows how much you love him and it just feeds his ego whenever you remind him. Don't let that fool you though, he's still that adorable dork you met freshman year, only with a lot more confidence.

Even though you're not a member of the Serpents, a lot of your friends are. In fact, most of the people you know are either Serpents or they're dating someone who is one. You're all there for each other when needed. It's like having one huge family despite the hardships suffered by everyone who is in one way or another connected to the gang.

Things with Fangs have never been weird. Sure you’ve had your disagreements like most other couples but you rarely, if ever, fought. So when he came over one night and picked a fight over something so small and insignificant you knew something was wrong.

Things just escalated from there. At first it was a lot of bickering, until it wasn't. Soon it was full fledged angry yelling at each other. All the time.

This was the summer before college. You thought it’d be full of fun and adventure with impromptu road trips and going to amusement parks. But the only rollercoaster you were riding was an emotional one. One where the screams were not filled with excitement but rather of anger and resentment.

Everyday you drifted further and further apart and it was starting to be too painful to bear. So, you decided to confront him about it. You waited for him in his trailer until he got home.

When you first arrived you sat on his couch running what you were going to say through your mind. But every possible scenario you imagined ended badly.

The air felt hot and thick. You started breathing heavily but it just burned your nose and throat. You ran to the window and yanked it open. The hot summer air did nothing to sooth your breathing difficulties. So, you went to the freezer to breathe in its cool air. After about a minute or two, you felt better and finally shut the freezer door.

You didn’t need your mind wandering into dark places again. Instead you busied myself by tidying up the place a bit. Not that it really needed it. Fangs was a really clean guy.

As you were wiping down his counters, you heard the key turn in the lock and Fangs appeared behind the door.

He seemed pleasantly surprised to see you. “Y/n? I didn’t know you’d be here. If I did I would have bought some food on my way home,” he kissed your cheek and went to his fridge.

The kiss had surprised you. He hadn’t done that in a while. Before this summer, Fangs always found any excuse he could to kiss you. But ever since he came home from a particular Serpent run, things changed.

That made you question what really happened that day. You told him you didn’t want to know what he did on those runs. You preferred to be left in the dark about that part of his life. Not just because it was safer that you didn't know, but because you selfishly wanted to preserve the image of that sweet, innocent, dorky boy you met Freshman year of high school.

But you also reminded him that if he ever needed someone to talk to about it, you’d be there for him with open ears. He never did though.

His hot and cold personality was confusing you. You never knew which Fangs to expect. Right now you were just glad he at least didn't seem annoyed that you showed up uninvited and unannounced, unlike last time.

You leaned against the counter and sighed. “Fangs, what are we doing?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“What do you mean?” he wondered, not looking at you but still searching for something edible in his refrigerator.

You fidgeted with your fingers before taking the plunge and just getting it out there. “All the fighting. Lately it just feels like we’re miles away from each other. I hate it.”

He paused what he was doing and stood and held the refrigerator door open as he looked at you, suddenly disinterested in the conversation. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Maybe we’re just growing apart.” Then he looked back to the fridge.

You blinked back and stood up straight, heart beating faster. Moments passed and he still didn't look at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you finally asked, afraid of his answer.

He avoided your gaze as he said, “It means I think we should break up.”

Those words hurt like hell. It nearly broke you, but at the same time it infuriated you.

You scoffed a laugh. “Seriously? That's it? Three and a half years and you can't even have the decency to look at me while you break my heart. Because that's what you just did. I gave you everything, my trust, my love. I bared my soul to you, told you things I could barely admit to myself, and this is what I get in return?” You didn’t scream at him. You didn’t need to, he heard the conviction in your voice loud and clear.

“I know things haven't been right for a long time. But I can't help you if you don't tell me what’s wrong. I want to be there for you Fangs, like you have been for me. So tell me. Tell me what's wrong and we can work through it together.”

He scoffed in annoyance, “But that's just it.” He finally looked up at you. “I don't want you to.”

You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion. “Why not? Please, just help me understand. I love you, Fangs. I thought we needed each other?”

“Yeah well, I don’t need you anymore.” His face was expressionless. You couldn’t get a read on him like you usually could. Fangs wore his expressions openly. It’s what made him bad a poker.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes but you refused to let them slip past. “I thought you loved me?”

He remained silent. He didn’t know what to say to that. What could he say? He was already breaking your heart enough as it was. Telling you he never loved you would not only ruin you but him too. He couldn’t say those words.

Your tears were free falling now. They wouldn’t stay back anymore. “I could say that I wished I’d never met you, but that would be a lie. Even though this hurts, I will never regret loving you Fangs. Just remember you were the one who did this to us.”

You turned to leave but when you got to the front door Fangs finally cracked, the pain and frustration clear in his voice. “Do you know how hard it's been trying to push you away when you're the love of my life? I want nothing more than to spend my life by your side,” he shouted.

You didn’t dare look back at him. Not if he was only giving you false hope in his confession. “So why don't you?”

He sighed and whispered as if you two weren’t the only ones in the room. “You deserve better. A better life away from the Serpents, away from the poverty and the violence. Look at me,” he turned you around to face him as he cupped your face in his hands, “you are meant for so much more than this piece of shit town. I just want to protect you from it.”

He wiped away more tears that fell from your eyes. “You will never let this go will you?”

He shook his head, his own tears spilling over.

You leaned into him for at least one last kiss. At least he gave you that. It was soft and tender but didn’t last nearly as long as you would have wanted it to. Fangs pulled you away from him and said, “Goodbye Y/n.”

It hurt you deeply but you turned and left his trailer, leaving your shattered heart there with him.

#fangs fogarty #fangs fogarty x reader #riverdale drabble #fangs forgarty imagine #fangs fogarty drabble #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #fangs fogarty prompt #daily prompt #lonely-full-of-secrets #mine

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mininky · 6 years

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Tainted Souls (Taehyung)

Summary: Vampires were no longer a myth, the world knew that they were very very real. The world wasn’t ready for it, and they really weren’t ready to find out that all those whacky conspiracy theorists finally got something right. A lot of celebrities were, in fact, undead. Including BTS. Touring constantly, always on the move it was painfully difficult to ensure that they received their meals. Until their manager learned of a business that specialized in vampire fine dining.

Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (female/male receiving), biting, multiple orgasms, swallowing of bodily fluids, no condoms (don’t do that!)

Word count: 6.3K

Series list: Prologue, Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook

"What book are you reading?" You look behind you on the plane to see Taehyung standing up at an awkward angle so he can peer over your shoulder. "Dracula." You move your sights back to the book in front of you, trying not to smile at the laughter ringing out above you. "Dracula, really? So, does that make you my Mina?" "If I was your Mina then I would have gathered a group of men who would have become so completely infatuated with my kind, sincere, and oh-so-innocent character that they would murder you for me. Well, technically for her fiance, but let's be honest they all did it for Mina." You try to go back to reading but close the book when you realize your eyes have been dancing over the same page for the last few minutes. You put your bookmark in and look up again to see Tae giving you a boxy grin. "Yeah, well I suppose in a sense you are Mina. You could definitely have a bunch of dudes do your bidding." "Is that so?" "Yup." You watch Tae whip his head back around and can barely hear Namjoon saying something about 'sit down' over the hum of the engine. Tae, however, stays up anyways. It can't be comfortable, he's having to stand at an obscure angle/crouch in order to avoid banging his head on the overhead. "But I appreciate that you aren't trying to kill the vampire and you aren't really Mina. Besides, cute and innocent gets boring really fast, doesn't it (y/n)?" You watch Jin's hand clasp around Taehyung's collar and jerk him back into the seat before you can even respond. So instead you have to settle on pulling up your KKT (and paying the outrageous WIFI fee) so you can have the last word. "Why kill the vampire when it's so much more fun to fuck them?" You wait a few moments, praying that Tae also paid for in-flight WIFI before you hear him sputter and cough behind you. Checkmate. You and Tae have been playing a game of cat and mouse from the moment you met. It's hard not to be drawn to him. He's charismatic, handsome, sweet, and he has this air of unflappable confidence that comes close but never fully crosses the line into arrogance. And you...well you've found your new favorite past time but you never thought about the implications it would bring about later in time. You and Tae flirt back and forth with each other constantly, but you've never crossed the line. Come close, dipped a toe over, sure...but you refuse to be the first one to break. Oh no, Tae will be the one to break. He's not like the normal fuck boy type, you'll give him that. In fact, he's not even really a fuck boy, he just has the tendencies. He's got this really sweet, sensitive, kind side to him. He's also very intuitive, the type of person to know exactly what you need or want before you ever say it. But he's also the type that's unapologetically himself and it's naturally an easy attractant for women. He could have any pick of the litter, and he knows it. He walks like he knows it, talks like he knows it, but he never actually comes out and says it. And the thought of conquering him, of being the one that he begs for. The one that gets the cocky side of him to bow down before your feet. Oh yes, you'll break him. Unlike Tae, who flirts shamelessly possibly just for the fun of it, you do it for more perverse and personal reasons. You're attracted to him. More than you'd care to admit too. You want him, you want all of him. You're not sure where in the game that started happening, but you know it's far earlier on than you care to admit to yourself. But he doesn't need to know that. Not until he's worshiping you, and then you'll bare your heart and soul. But he needs to break first. You want to wash off that cocky grin from his face, you want to see him vulnerable and bare to you. And as much as you'd like to pretend it was just a game of conquering the man who can conquer all it was now much more than that. So you've been pushing harder than ever, trying to get him to cross the finish line. You think he probably understands what you're doing. And it seems to you that he's drawing it out to see if you'll break first instead. You've had to slow back down in retaliation. Well, that and the fact that you had been so caught up in the thrill of the chase that you've had witnesses. Technically just one witness actually, just on a few occasions. Unfortunately, poor Jungkook has been caught in the crossfires of your little 'chases' a few times now. So now you have to be a little bit more careful. Poor Jungkook. The last time he walked in on the two of you had been the worst. He'd found Taehyung feeding from your thigh when he came over to see if Taehyung wanted to play a video game of some sort with him. As if it wasn't bad enough of a position with your dress hiked up and your expensive black lace and chiffon underwear on full display it of course just had to happen right when he finally started looking you in your eyes after he accidentally saw the racy photo you'd sent Tae a few weeks prior. It wasn't that bad, but you're pretty sure that he's maybe seen boobs in real life a handful of times and that didn't help anything. He's a shy, innocent thing under all that bravado he puts on stage. Jungkook still refuses to talk around you, he just turns into an awkward statue and runs away which has caused his blood type endless entertainment recently. She's been using you just to chase away Jungkook, and it's only made you tread more lightly in your game with Taehyung. Your thoughts are brought back to the present when you hear your phone buzz. You glance over at Jungkook's blood type on your right and Jin's blood type on your left to see both of them sound asleep before pulling up the text. It wasn't a dick pic per say. It alluded to it, but the angle cut off right after the thatch of well-groomed pubic hair. Interesting, so he doesn't shave completely. Somehow, you kind of anticipated him to be an all or nothing kind of guy. Not that you're complaining. The real question is how to respond? You take a moment to ponder your options before a text pops up.

[Tae-Tae] Speechless? [you] No, I'm just debating if you shave and trim or just trim. What a cocky little shit. You'll break him one day, you swear it. [Tae-Tae] Care to find out? [you] Hmm... [Tae-Tae] I'll show you if you ask me. ;) [you] Nah, I think my own imagination is probably better. [Tae-Tae] :( It's not tho [you] Whatever you say, babe. [Tae-Tae] babe? I get nicknames now? What can I call you? How about baby doll? [you] Gross, veto. [Tae-Tae] Princess? [you]...I can work with that one, but it's not my favorite. [Tae-Tae] My queen? [you] Much better. I accept from you my humble servant.

You try to stifle your laughter as Taehyung suddenly appears down the aisle. He shoots you another boxy grin and leans over for a moment to whisper in your ear. "See, I told you. You can get guys to do their bidding. All you have to ask and your wish is my command. My queen." You look at him for a moment before staring back straight ahead. "I'd rather hear you beg." You watch his pupils dilate for a moment when you spare a short glance back his way, his head cocked to the side before he finally moves back over to his seat when a stewardess starts walking by.

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A few days later and you're finally back in the comfort of your own home. In a strange way, you aren't actually that happy with it. Being out and exploring and...being with Tae...well it's fun. But meanwhile back at the ranch you just go through tedious monotonous tasks of daily life. Not that it's that bad, it's really nice to be able to catch up on all your favorite shows and finish a book in your favorite spot on the couch. It's just...well it's boring. You've been going and traveling nonstop for the last couple of months, and sure it could be stressful. Especially trying to get through an airport while not being caught with BTS and the constant reminder of 'no scandals, we hired you to be discrete' from the ever so lovely management. (Honestly, with some of the stunts you've seen the other girls pull you're surprised that there hasn't been a scandal yet. It's not that they aren't discrete, it's more that...well there's zero tolerance for bullshit from some of the other girls when fans get out of hand.) But with all its rules the job is still worth it. You got to explore museums and sites and food all over the world. Your bank account is certainly not a concern any time soon. But more importantly...with Tae. And when you're back at home...well you're just a regular old girl again. When you're with Tae it's like everything is an adventure, his optimistic boyish charm is infectious. When it's back to just you in your apartment though it's like everything is slightly muted. Your thoughts wander back to Taehyung for a moment. The tour had ended with things getting...slightly awkward between the two of you. You're pretty sure that both of you are getting tired of this little game, but both of you are too stubborn to try for something more. Each conversation with him lately has kept you on edge, both of you seem to be daring the other person to just say it first. You know you're in deep shit, you don't just like him...you love him. And that puts you in an odd spot. This is after all your job. And he is after all famous and under a microscope constantly. And then there's his personality. It's almost like there are two sides to him. The flirty grand charismatic face he shows the world and then the much more serious, sometimes stoic side he'll occasionally give you a glimpse of. But what's real with him? You can't help but wonder if he actually likes you, or if he more just enjoys teasing you. And this dilemma really isn't his fault, it's yours. You started this. You were the one challenging him, instead of just coming forward and being honest. But being honest is scary. Rejection is a serious possibility, and you're not sure if you'll ever be able to recover from it. I mean, sure you will, but...man it won't be easy. And let's say he does reject you, do you have to go back to your old routine at Tainted Souls all over again? You're in the middle of a deep True Blood binge under the confines of the pillow fort you've made when a knock at the door interrupts your thoughts and has you pausing the show. You have no clue who it could possibly be. Your friends rarely show up unannounced and all of them have day jobs so considering that it's only 1:00 in the afternoon it couldn't possibly be them. And you didn't order any food, you actually forced yourself to cook for once just a little while ago. You peak your head out the pillow fort and squint at the door (not that it's helpful in any way but you're hoping you can somehow will the person away if you do this long enough.) Another round of knocks, louder this time, ring through the apartment before the doorbell is rung no less than five times in under thirty seconds. You grunt as you crawl out of the fort before marching over to the door. Swinging it open you're ready to give an earful at your intruder before seeing that damn boxy grin. "Tae?" "Hiya, my queen. I was just bored and in the area and-" "How do you know where I live?" Taehyung stops for a moment and you see a mischevious glint in his eye. "I have my ways. Are you going to invite me in?" "What is this, some old-timey vamp shit? Yes, please, I invite you in oh undead one." Tae chuckles as he steps in, his shoulders brushing against yours momentarily before he steps aside to take off his shoes. "You aren't off the hook that easy though. How did you find out where I live?" "It's on your resume, duh." You watch him survey your small apartment before his eyes light. "Is that a pillow fort???" He skips with glee over to the area, a childlike innocence and enthusiasm taking over as he crawls down and shuffles into the area. "What are we watching?" "We're not watching anything. I was watching..." You stop yourself short. How do you explain to a vampire that you're basically watching a vampire porn show that got a disturbing amount of things about vampires right? I mean, the Dracula thing was already a bit embarrassing enough but hey, it's a classic! "What, cat got your tongue? Come on, come join me in the fort, my queen!" You glance over to see him patting at the side next to him before finally giving in with a reluctant sigh. You didn't exactly make enough space for two people though, so you're squeezed rather tightly next to his side. "So...were you watching porn?" "...no..." No that would almost be less embarrassing, unfortunately. "That...that wasn't the answer I was expecting. Oh...oh my god. You WERE weren't you?" You're struck with horror as he moves to press play. Why god? Why you? Why didn't you destroy all the evidence before opening the door? Why didn't you hide the remote? Why couldn't you have been watching anything else other than- The sounds of moaning fills the room. Of fucking course, this just had to be the worst possible scene for it to start on. And of course you just haaaad to watch the whole series over from the beginning and this is the part where they find the tape of the girl who died after sleeping with a vampire who chains her up has very rough sex with her and then drains her. "Holy shit, this is...this is really kinky. It feels like I'm watching some of Hobi-hyung's stash, but worse. Wow. It's always the ones you least expect I guess." His eyes are glued to the screen as it finally cuts back to the police. "No!!!! No, no no no no no no no!!!" You're smacking Tae repeatedly on his arm, hoping that you're somehow making your illiterate rant get across to him. "No, it's a TV show. It's called True Blood! It's about vampires and okay it's honestly trashy and kind of awful but I mean, they got so much right. A lot of it wrong, but so much right too! Like synthetic blood, and vampires coming out of the coffin! And and and..." You stop at the sound of Taehyung laughing maniacally at your outburst. "Oh fuck off Tae. Even if I was watching porn I'm allowed to do so! Who died and made you my dad? Also, what ARE you even doing here? Don't think I bought that 'I was in the area' bullshit! You're not getting off that easy mister!" "Mister, really?" Tae sighs before cuddling closer into your side, his face pressing into your shoulder. "I just missed you, if you really must know." "Oh." What does that admission mean? Does it mean...no he couldn't possibly be throwing in the towel. "Oh?" You glance down to see Tae looking up at you through his messy fringe. You hadn't really paid attention when he first came in, but he looks paler, tired. "OH, you're hungry." He rolls his eyes before he cuddles even closer and throws a leg over you. You pray that your heart will stop thundering soon because you know for a fact he can hear it. "Not really. I still have two more days before I need to eat. I told you, I just missed you. Is that such a crime?" "You look hungry. Tae, you don't need to lie. If you just came because you need to eat that's fine, I'm sure you've been working harder now that you're back and-" "I told you that's not why I'm here!" His face snaps up, and you're suddenly reminded by his inhuman speed that he is indeed a creature not to take lightly as he's straddling you. His eyes bore into yours, flickers of annoyance tracing over his features. "Why don't you believe me?" "What?" "Why, why do you do all these games? You fuck with me, and you play these games, and god I can't get you out of my fucking head. Your taste, your smell, your laugh fuck it's like they're just running through my mind all god damn day. And then you have the audacity to act surprised? How could I not miss you? Is this all it is to you, just some game? Because I swear to fucking god if it is I'm-" "It's not just a game. I mean, it kind of started that way but..." You trail off, your eyes refusing to look up at him for longer than a few seconds. Tae relaxes at your admission, but his gaze never wavers. He's clearly waiting for you to continue, but you're too stubborn. After a minute of the two of you daring the other to speak first, he finally gives a small chuckle before throwing his face into your neck. "God, you just really want to make me say it first, don't you?" "Yes." Your words come out tiny and small, and you suddenly feel incomprehensibly stupid for just not being honest with him sooner. "Why?" "Because you're you. You could get anything, anyone. And...I don't know at first it was just to get someone as great of a catch as you to look at me and I was kind of bored with having just one client. But then...it just morphed into something more. The more time I spent with you the more I wanted you to really like me. Like really really like me, not just want me...you know? But...I guess...I'm also just really afraid of rejection. A game of cat and mouse keeps things easy and light-hearted, feelings don't really have to be involved." "I fell for you so long ago it's ridiculous. I just figured it was all just fun and games for you so I didn't admit anything. We're both idiots aren't we?" You find yourself grinning up at his words. "Yeah but...we can be idiots together." "I like the sound of that, a lot." For a minute silence just fills the room, although it's not uncomfortable. It's more the two of you basking in the realization that there are no more games. Both of you are finally being honest with one another. And then after that warm and fuzzy glow starts to ebb away do you realize the rather compromising position you're in. He's still straddled over your hips, his hair falling down and eye's just barely peeking out, his hands resting on the side of your head and face just a few inches away. You're not sure what to do in this situation. Do you ask him to move? Do you kiss him? Do you touch him? What would be the most proper? Because really all you want is to feel his lips, but you're not sure if that's what he wants. You're pretty sure he can see each thought playing out based off of the way he cocks his head to the side and lifts an eyebrow. You've never been very good at concealing your inner thoughts. (Note to self, work on your poker face.) So you steel your nerves and finally say in a voice you hope doesn't give away your anxiety, "Tae?" When he hums in response you finally lift your eyes to him. "Tae, can I kiss you?" His smile stirs something in you, a frenzy of joy and something slightly more carnal caused by his fangs shining down at you. "Of course, my queen." He doesn't however budge. Clearly, he's going to make you work for it, and your stubborn side is starting to roll back in. You weave your hands into his hair (you'd like to note that it's oddly soft for all the chemical damage it's taken and you really should find out what shampoo he uses) to bring his lips down onto yours. The force of the movement causes a rather awkward clash of teeth, but neither of you seems to pay any mind. There's been too much build up, too much tension, to really care about little details like that. His lips are slightly chapped and he tastes faintly like mint. It's not long before the kiss deepens into something less chaste, tongues roaming and exploring and hunger starts to drive both of you. Your hands untangle from his hair and move to his arms before snaking around his waist to flip him over. There's something so euphoric about seeing him under you, at seeing the shift as his eyes start to shine red and the way his breathing starts to stagger under your touch. And it hits you, really hits you then, that he's yours. Maybe the world gets a lot of him, but right now you get a side of him that they don't. Your lips trail down his neck as your hands slide up his shirt to feel the cool skin underneath. The way his muscles clench under your touch coupled with his soft panting has desire pooling into your underwear. "You look so pretty like this." You grin as you peel his shirt off before leaving a wet trail of kisses down his torso. "Pretty, really? Wouldn't handsome be a more apt description?" His hands are wound into your hair, pushing you slightly further down as you get steadily closer to the waistband of his sweats. "Well, you are plenty handsome. But...I think you look pretty right now. Delectably pretty. Like a perfect meal presented to me." You linger at his pants, hands resting on the button before your attention flickers back to his face. "May I?" "Please. But I mean, really? If anyone is the meal here it's you." "The big bad vampire routine is unbecoming of you. Be a good boy though and you might just get a treat." The glare he levels at you has a giggle of elation bubbling up in your throat. "Really, still with the games?" "Do you want me to suck your dick or not Tae?" His head whips up as you slide down his pants and boxers, freeing his rapidly hardening cock only a mere few inches from your face. You'd like to note that he does, in fact, shave and groom. Guess the question is finally answered now that you're finally seeing the perfectly shaped triangle of hair in person. "Fuck, no I do." "Then just lie back down and be a good boy." He groans as he throws his head back, biting on his lip to stay quiet. You've always wanted to be the one to get under his skin, to make him fall apart, and now that you're finally here it's better than you ever imagined. You take a moment to just enjoy the site of him laying under you, twitching with barely controlled impatience. Your fingers ghost over his dick, lips coming down to pepper small kisses up along his thigh before halting right at his balls. His hips flex and shake the closer you get, precum beading up and falling onto his stomach. "Jesus, please (Y/N), please just fucking touch me. This is just torture, cruel and unusual punishment. I'll do whatever you want just please, please just touch me." "Whatever I want?" A cheshire cat grin is on your lips as you look at him. You get that technically you guys already agreed to be together, but hey you've been thinking for a long time about just what you would do when he finally breaks. And right now you're finally about to get what you've always wanted. "Fuck, yes, just please fucking touch me." "Hmm, okay, since you begged so nicely." You finally grasp his dick in your hand, tongue snaking along his balls before trailing up and enveloping his velvety head. The tangy precum smears over your lips as you lock eye contact with him, your smile growing wider at the long musical moan that falls out of him. Oh-ho, if Tae is already moaning he might just not be able to handle what you have prepared for him. You give him just a moment to calm down as you keep him resting in your mouth before finally sliding down to the base in one go. "Oh, holy fuck. Fuck, fuck, oh god. You weren't fucking kidding when you said you were a pro at sucking dick, oh my god." You stay stationed at the base for a moment before working up, setting an easy rhythm for yourself to breath in as you go up and exhale slowly as he reaches past your molars. The dull ache in your jaw is worth it for the sweet sounds he's gracing you with. You can feel your panties clinging onto you, your own need beginning to cause a different dull ache. But that's not important, what's important right now is staying in charge. You aren't about to pass up this opportunity that you've worked so hard to finally get. "(Y/N), if you don't stop I'm going to ah fuck!" Your hands massage his balls gently before his hips buck with force into your throat and his cum is filling your mouth in hot white ropes. His eyes are locked on yours as you finally pull away from him, giving small licks to clean up anything left behind before opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. "All clean, my what a good girl you are." You can't help but preen a bit under the praise. There's something about hearing the words from Tae that make the (honestly almost unbearable) taste worth it. "But it's not fair, I'm almost completely undressed, and you're still in all of your clothes." His words come out whiney as he tries to grab the hem of your shirt, but you're quicker than him. You scooch your way out of the pillow fort, ignoring his whines of protests. "Come on Tae, you promised that you'd do whatever it is that I ask." You glance behind you to see Taehyung behind you, a deviant smirk plastered to his face as he tugs his pants back up. "Well, my queen, I'm hoping that your wish is for me to eat you out like a five-course meal." "No, but nice try. No no, I'd like something far less sexual, sorry to burst your bubble." You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers curling into the soft hair at his nape. "I'd like for you to take me shopping." "What?" "Shopping, I want to go shopping with you. More specifically I'd like to go out on a date with you. I think it would be fun to pick out some clothes with you. Oh, but I suppose I should tack on that I'd like to go to the new exhibit at the museum with you too if you have the time this month. It's not a permanent collection so I suppose that might have to take priority if you can manage the time." "You...you could have me do anything and you choose a date? I thought for sure you'd have me sit there and beg for you or something, or literally kiss your ass, or make me do something really embarrassing. But you...choose a date?" His shoulders are shaking with poorly contained laughter before he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. "Just when I think I've got you all figured out you pull something like this. You're a weird one, you know that?" "Well at first I thought about making you beg, in fact, that was my original goal. But the plan changed a long time ago. I realized I didn't want to make you beg, I would never want to hear something like that forced out of you. I want to hear that you want me because you want me, not for any other reason. So then I started thinking about what I really wanted, and I realized that even though it's selfish and even though you can't technically go out on dates or be seen in public with me I'd still really like to go out on a date with you. I understand though if it's not really possible." You say the last words quietly as you reflect back on your contract and the firm words from management. Dating and scandals were absolutely not allowed, and while you wanted nothing more to be with Tae you also understood the precarious place dating would put him in. "Hey, don't worry about it. We can definitely go on a date. I can wear like a fake beard or something." "What?" "Ooh, or maybe I'll learn how to do some special effects makeup and turn myself into an old man. With a big beard." Tae is talking animatedly, his hands smoothing down his imaginary beard. "No fake beard, please." "Why not, I thought girls like beards." "Yes well I don't. Especially not fake ones. That's just weird. But I'm sure we'll figure something...less...abstract out." You watch his gaze flicker back down to you, his fingers tracing over your jaw before dipping lower until they finally grip at the soft flesh of your ass. "Well, I suppose that we can figure it out some other time. I don't have enough time for a date tonight, I still have to be back for practice in a couple of hours. But that does leave me with enough time to continue where we left off. What do you say?" His breath is warm on your neck and the fire that had begun to calm down is roaring back. That familiar ache, the need to finally be one with him begins driving all action again. You try leading him to the bedroom, but his hands pull your hips back flush to him. "Always so impatient. Let me take my time with you." His tongue trails slowly down your neck, over the prominent vein before he nips down slightly on your collarbone. Each movement is slow, precise, and it already has you wanting more. You're not normally so greedy, you usually enjoy dragging things out more. But Taehyung is masterful at this slow, erotic torture and it's quickly becoming too much for you. Each touch to your skin tingles and burns, his hands lazily roaming and groping has your hips rutting into his. "Tae, don't be a fucking tease." "Oh please, you've spent enough time torturing me let me have some fun." His eyes lock onto yours before he finally strips your shirt off of you before his mouth latches onto a nipple. His tongue swirls around the bud before he's tugging it in between his teeth with enough force to have you cry out. His mouth twitches into a grin at your moan and suddenly he's off of your breast and picking you up. He doesn't, however, take you down the hall into your bedroom as you initially guessed. No, instead he's leading you into the kitchen and placing you on the counter. He just gives a small chuckle at your cocked eyebrow before explaining. "Listen, this might sound ridiculous to you but I've always wanted to have sex in a kitchen but considering that I live in the dorm or I'm always in hotels I don't exactly get that chance often. Also, I really want to fuck you in a bathtub while we're on the subject. Honestly just about every surface of this apartment, but the kitchen is a good place to start. Don't you think?" Before you can respond his hands drag your ass to the edge of the counter and his mouth is on your thighs. Each wet kiss, each small nip, closer to your clothed and dripping core has you shaking with want. "Tae, please. Please, come on baby, please." You're not sure if it's the begging, or the use of the pet name, or just his own desires that finally cause him to peel away your panties but you really don't care. You just care that you're finally getting relief. "God, look at you. You're dripping all over the counter. What a pretty fucking pussy, and it smells so sweet." He licks one long stripe over your folds before clamping down on your throbbing clit. Before you can even react he has two fingers slipping into you, strangled moans bubbling out at the dual sensations. With each loud suck on your clit, his fingers prod deeper inside you, scissoring and stretching in all the right ways. You can feel that familiar coil tighten and lurch at his ministrations. Each time his tongue brushes against you, each time his fingers prod in just the right spot, you can feel yourself start to unravel. You want to tell him how good it feels, how amazing he is, but words get lost in your throaty moans. "You're going to cum already? You gonna cum all over my fingers? Come on (y/n), cum for me." That's all it takes to have you finally fall into your orgasm. Thighs clenching, abdomen tightening, toes curling. Faintly you know you're screaming his name loudly, but you're too far gone in bliss to fully register that it's you who's making those noises. By the time your opening your eyes back up he's finally pulled away from you. His mouth is still shining with your release and you can't help but groan at the sight of him slowly fisting his leaking cock. His mouth is on yours in an instant, both of you groaning at the taste of both your orgasms. Your hips jut into his, the desire to feel filled by him is starting to drive you into a frenzy. You need to feel him, one orgasm isn't enough. Never really has been for you, but especially not when it's finally with Tae. "Tae, come on, please fuck me." The way he groans low and sweet has you clenching around nothing and desire trickling out of you once again. You watch, entirely entranced, as he finally enters. You're well prepped enough that there's no burn, just sweet sweet satisfaction. His head rested in the crook of your neck, peppering small kisses along the vein as he stayed still before slowly pulling back out. His hands wrap your thighs around his waist before he starts moving rhythmically. Each movement is harsher, faster than the last. Each thrust has both of you groaning at the sensation. You can feel him everywhere, so utterly full as he prods away at the right spot that has nerves on fire. "God, you're so fucking tight. And wet, holy shit. Can I...can I feed from you?" You can't help but moan at his words again. He looks so perfect, almost like a sculpture has come to life. The sweat is making his hair cling to his face, casting a glow to his tan skin. "You have to say yes, I'm not taking a moan for an answer." "Yes, please Tae." At the green light, he nuzzled back into your neck, his tongue snaking along the pulsing vein before his fangs sunk in. There's something about the mix of pain and pleasure that almost feels like a high each time. Sinful, dirty, perfect. And it has you tumbling into another orgasm around him. Clenching, moaning, milking Tae to finally come to his own. His tongue laps up the last of the blood, seeling away the bite as his hips begin to rut sloppily through his own completion. He stays lodged inside as he starts to soften and presses a few soft kisses on your lips. You feel not just satisfied, but somewhere into a place of warm and fuzzy bliss. "You know, it was worth the wait." He sighs at the sound of his phone going off and grimaces as he finally pulls out to look at his phone. "I have to leave now so I won't be late to practice. Can I...come back over tomorrow? I don't have the day off, but I do have a break in the afternoon." "Of course, just text me when you're on your way over. Don't push yourself too hard." Tae gives a boxy grin as he pulls on his clothes before weaving his fingers into your hair and pulling you into a heated kiss. "As much as I love seeing you naked, you should probably put on some clothes so you don't catch a cold. I'll see you tomorrow, my queen." You watch him leave silently, a smile plastered to your face. You certainly weren't expecting for this to happen when you took on the job. You weren't expecting these blossoming feelings of love to take over when you started to first tease Tae. But the world works in mysterious ways, and you couldn't be happier with the results.

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oyehobi · 7 years

Text

W.T.D.G.Y.W

Prompt: Unrequited Love

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jungook X Reader

Word Count: 1835

He was beautiful. At least that's what Jungkook heard from you, daily to be exact. You loved the way his hair fell into his face and the bright smile that was his constant companion. You told him you adored his personality and the warm feeling you got whenever he held you close. You loved him, but Jungkook loved you. Jungkook loved the small sighs you took whenever you were tired or frustrated and the way you always seemed to be able to lift his spirits no matter what mood he was in. He loved you but you loved him, and Jungkook could never say a word.

You heard the steady beat of the loud bass coming from the small dance studio. You smiled thinking about your favorite boys, working hard for their next promotions. Not bothering to knock, you gently pushed the door open, slightly struggling with the amount of plastic bags you were carrying. Miscellaneous members of the company cheered when they saw you and instantly swarmed towards the excess bags of food you brought for them. You knew how difficult it's been for not only the boys but the crew as well, and you made sure to bring enough to feed an army. Graciously accepting their thanks, you couldn't help but let your eyes wander to the boys who haven't missed a step despite your grand entrance. Your eyes were drawn to one in particular and you couldn't help but stare at the fluid movements of his body and sharp thrusts of his dance moves. You blushed, quickly looking away. You tried not to focus on the warm feeling growing in your stomach and instead focused on the crew who were still coming up to thank you for your kindness. One unnie, in particular, gave you a knowing wink and you felt your face grow darker in color. Finally, the last note of their latest track played and the members collapsed in exhaustion, drinking in the feeling of their muscles burning. “[Y/N]!” A voice called out, and you whipped your head around, smile dipping slightly when you realized it was just Jungkook calling your name. “Jungkook!” You smiled, running into his open arms. You braced yourself as he picked you up and spun you around, causing a burst of giggles to leave your body. “Okay! Okay, put me down you big muscle pig,” you smiled, lightly swatting his chest, “I can't believe I used to beat you up when we were kids.” He laughed and held you close despite your protests. “You still beat me up,” he said, faking extreme pain as you jokingly hit him again. “You better watch out Jungkook, I bet [Y/N] could totally take you in a fight,” a voice laughed from behind you. You immediately recognized who it was and Jungkook watched as you completely lit up in excitement. “Hobi!” You cried, spinning around and launching yourself at him. He chuckled, gracefully catching you in his arms. “How have you been, [Y/N]?” You simply hummed, holding onto him for as long as you could. You tried not to sigh when he pulled away, making a straight beeline for the food. You brushed off the feeling of disappointment before anyone could notice and replaced it with a wide smile instead. But he noticed, Jungkook always did. After years of friendship, he knew your habits like the back of his hand. He knew how desperate you were for Hoseok, for him to look at you the same way you looked at him. The same way Jungkook saw you. The entire idea of you being together spoiled his appetite, so when he muttered out a faint excuse of needing to use the restroom, no one batted an eye. He quickly walked away, trying to ignore the way you were tucked into Hoseok’s side like you belonged there. “You're always so nice [Y/N]! Maybe I should make you my wife,” Hoseok joked. Even though Jungkook was turned the other way he could already imagine your flushed cheeks and bright smile. He needed to get out of there right now. Half running to the open bathroom, he shut the door behind him, leaning heavily on the aging wood. He groaned; nothing was going his way.

“Jungkook?” You called out, doing your best to find the bathroom in the dance studio maze. You were worried he might have started feeling sick or worse, was refusing to eat because of promotions. You knew he and the other boys would sometimes starve themselves to achieve the ‘perfect idol body,’ and just the thought of Jungkook feeling that way made you run faster. Finally reaching the door you assumed was the bathroom, you tried the handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. You slowly pushed it open, but before you could say anything you were distracted by the noises coming from inside. It sounded almost as if Jungkook was…talking to himself? You opened the door a little more and found Jungkook staring at himself in the mirror, clutching the sides of the sink in a tight grip that had his knuckles turning white. “I-I know you don't see me that way,” he started, before completely stopping mid-sentence, “no, no that sounds stupid.” “We’ve been friends for a long time- no that's not right either,” he growled, slamming his fist onto the sink. You smiled, watching him panic over what to say. It sounded like he wanted to confess to someone and you couldn't wait until you got to meet the lucky person that held your best friend’s heart. You walked forward to make your presence known, maybe you could help him come up with something good. But before you could utter a word you heard the phrase that changed your relationship with Jungkook forever. “Dammit [Y/N], I'm in love with you.” You let out a loud gasp, unable to keep quiet when your best friend had basically just confessed to you. Jungkook immediately spun around, a look of horror painted on his handsome face. “[Y/N], it's not- I didn't mean-” he spluttered, reaching out to touch you. You flinched back unable to say a word, as you turned around to run. Before you could get far, Jungkook grabbed your wrist forcing you to look up at him. You could see the pain in his eyes, and you knew there was nothing you could do. You didn't think of him in that way, at least, you didn't think you did. There was nothing you could say or do to make this situation better, and a million thoughts were crowding your mind. “Since when?” You croaked out. He took a shaky breath, letting go of your wrist and begging you not to leave with his eyes. “Since we were nine?” He winced, finally realizing how pathetic he sounded, “you came to school with a new haircut and I went home and told my mom I was going to marry you.” He let out an empty laugh, so different from his usual warm and bright ones. You couldn't laugh with him, unable to feel anything but numb disbelief. All this time, he's been in love with you? Through all the fights, the piggyback rides, the midnight adventures, and you couldn't see it? “Jungkook, I-” you started to say, but you trailed off leaving the empty sentence hanging there in the air. “[Y/N] look, I know you don't feel the same way. Trust me, I know. All I want is to keep being by your side. I'm not asking you for anything more or less, just please I can't lose my best friend.” You saw the desperation in his eyes, his outstretched arms begging to touch you. “Jungkook, I don't think I can do this,” you whispered, pulling away. Your mind was in overdrive, you couldn't comprehend anything that was happening. “Please, god [Y/N], don't do this. We can forget about this, please just forget you ever heard anything.” But you couldn't, you couldn't forget the way his eyes looked into you yours. You couldn't forget the long looks he's always given you, and the hidden meaning behind the affectionate touches you always assumed were platonic. You couldn't forget how much you've hurt him over the years. “Jungkook,” you said, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes, “I’m so sorry. All these years, I didn't know, I ignored your feelings and just-” You stopped, unable to continue talking as he rushed forward to hold you in his arms. “No [Y/N], this is all my fault,” he cried, his voice cracking with each word, “I never wanted you to find out this way.” You both stood there, arms clutching each other tightly. You cried because you loved each other but in different ways. You couldn't see him the way he wanted you to, you couldn't be his happily ever after. The world should have never been so cruel. You cried because he gave you his heart, and you shattered it into pieces. “Jungkook, I love you,” you whispered, and you flinched at the way his entire face lit up, “but not in the way you need me to.” The reaction was instantaneous, and you felt your heart break right along with his, as his entire face darkened, and he held his head down. “I understand,” he whispered, letting you go. You sighed, wiping your eyes and moving away. Today has been a long day, and you just needed to get home and relax. You turned around to begin your walk to the dance studio, where you left your things. Before you could move more than two steps forward, you felt strong arms wrap around your waist. “Jungkook…” You warned, feeling his head rest on your shoulder. “I'll wait for you [Y/N], no matter what,” he promised, “I'm not making you choose me, and I know you don't feel the same way. But I want you to know, my heart will always belong to you. So until you're ready, and even if you never are, I'll never see anyone but you.” You could hear the sad smile in his voice and your heart ached. You couldn't help but feel guilty for breaking the beautiful boy in behind you. “Jungkook I-” “Don't say anything [Y/N], just let me hold you for a bit more. Then I promise i’ll go back to being the old me. Please.” How could you deny him that? You both stood there in silence, his arms wrapped around you so tight you were worried he would never let go. When he finally did, you couldn't help but feel a strange feeling come over you, a feeling that you've never felt with anyone else. “Okay, let's go!” He said giving you a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and dragging you along behind him. You pushed the feeling down before allowing yourself to be pulled along.

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