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angelicyouth · 10 months

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Underwater

⇢ pairing: platonic!main 4 + butters x reader

⇢ genre: mental illness ; vampire AU

⇢ synopsis: ❝You were always careful with keeping it a secret—well, you were until you just didn't care enough to have it hidden anymore.❞

⇢ warning(s): self harm ; attempted suicide

⇢ [AO3 link]

i’m in no way trying to romanticize mental illness, prompt someone into a negative headspace, or make light of any mental health issues—this was written as an outlet for my emotions if you are not in a good place then please reach out to someone because i promise that people care more than you think they do; my messages are always open if you’d like to talk

When you wake up, it’s with a sharp gasp as the thundering sound of your heartbeat overtakes the senses in your ears. It’s too loud as you strain to hear the faint noise of steady footsteps get gradually closer, your feet scrambling to kick the metal of your razor blade underneath the cold porcelain of the bathtub.

The fluorescent glint of the sliding object catches the sliver of sunshine pouring in from the glass panel of the window, letting you know that it comes to a stop just behind the clawfoot of the strikingly white structure—not fully hidden but just enough in your last minute haste. Your hands violently tremble as you rush to pull down the coarse material of your jacket over your arms, the stinging sensation overwhelming as it touches the fresh scars running jaggedly against soft skin.

You’re thankful for the dark attire you decided to adorn today as the black color of your jacket hides the deep crimson steadily spreading across your sleeves.

Hardly biting down onto your lower lip in an attempt to silence the wail of anguish threatening to sound out of your mouth from the burning cuts, the plastic cap from the bottle of bleach clatters against the tiled floor as you pour the pungent liquid down the tub. Your chest quickly heaves up and down in anxiety when you see that there’s still an inch of blood left inside of it, your mind desperately willing for the metallic-smelling substance to drain quicker.

Painfully dropping all of your weight onto your knees, you roughly grab onto the sponge lining the bathroom shelves to frantically scrub along the inner lining of the stained porcelain as the too-loud sound of shampoo bottles clatter against the floor. Before anything can get accomplished, however, the wood of the room’s door gets harshly slammed open.

“N/N!” Kenny chirps out loud, a delighted expression on his face despite the intrusion.

“Ken! I—uh.” Your mind painfully lags in panic at the prospect of being caught before you fully process the situation. “Get the fuck out! Holy shit, can’t a girl have some peace?! What if I was shitting in here!”

With unnatural reflexes, the blonde dodges the bar of soap that you violently throw at his lithe body before the object makes contact with hardened plaster and creates an indent in the wall. He cheerily whistles as mirthful ceruleans inspects the damage, a shiteating smirk adorning his handsome face at the error of your actions.

Like clockwork, a shrill voice is predictably quick to admonish the sound of chaos in the household. “Y/N!”

You wince as you hear the thundering footsteps that follow the entrance of Kyle as he unceremoniously pushes past Kenny, Stan lazily following behind the redhead with his arms leisurely crossed behind his head to watch the source of entertainment unfold. “How many fucking times do I need to tell all of you shitheads to stop fucking—”

“Woah. Is that blood..?” Stan takes a step forward to curiously peer closer to the bathtub, your smaller body defensively moving in a futile attempt to block the ravenette’s wandering eyes.

“What the fuck, N/N.” The curly-haired teen says, his disbelieving eyes firmly staring you down in a deadpan yet non-verbal question.

“What? Don’t fucking look at me like that!” You bark out loud, your eyes darting to the side in avoidance as your voice climbs in pitch from panic. “I was playing with my food—so what?”

“... In the fucking bathtub?” Stan’s voice is similarily deadpan with indication that your reasoning was one of the most stupidest fucking thing he’s ever heard in his life (and he’s lived a long time).

It’s quiet as you don’t answer his question, your eyes stubbornly glued to the corner of the tiled floor in avoidance before Kyle heaves out a tired sigh. “Okay… Okay. We uh–”

He clenches his eyes shut, his long fingers coming up to soothe the space between his eyes that are painfully furrowed as he takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “We’re going to feed. Let’s go.”

“I’m not hungry.” You lowly mumble and it’s a terrible fucking lie—you feel dangerously woozy from the amount of blood loss because you’re now able to fill the bathtub twice before you faint.

“Yeah, and I’m a fucking dumbass.” Kenny sarcastically says as he rolls his eyes, your mouth automatically parting to say that he is before he continues. “Come on, N/N—quit bullshitting. Your eyes are as red as virgin Kyle’s blushing face when a girl so much as breathes the same fucking air as him.”

“Fuck you!”

You internally curse as your eyes quickly dart to seek the bathroom’s mirror hanging over the sink, your irises painted in a vivid red to indicate hunger. Unlike popular belief, the dead can see their reflections which unfortunately showcases the deep purple casting shadows underneath your tired eyes.

And while you’re not successful in deflecting a night out with the guys to find some food when you begrudgingly follow them out of the house, you’re successful in diverting their attention over your actions in the bathroom.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Your back rests against the wall from your seated position inside of the bathtub, your legs dangling out from the side but not quite touching the tiled floor. The cool porcelain grounds you to the moment as your slightly parted lips slowly brings out small puffs of air, the numbing feeling overtaking your body making all of your thoughts and worry dissipate into the room like your breath.

You feel like you’re submerged underwater wherein your senses are disoriented despite the heightened abilities your kind grants you. Everything feels muffled—like background noise as all the things surrounding you moves in slow motion and aren’t urgent enough to capture your attention.

It’s like the feeling you get when Kenny supplies the group with an abundance of alcohol or drugs except it’s amplified tenfold because while your body is physically present, your mind is lightyears away. Sometimes when it gets like this, you wonder to yourself: am I living in a fever dream? Or is this real life and I’m just moving on autopilot—with no control over my body as it automatically goes through the familiar motions of everyday life from years of living?

The seconds go by agonizingly slow and sometimes not at all when you check the time. Hours could have passed by and it would have been no different to what mere minutes feel like as your unfocused eyes stare at the wall on the other side of the bathroom.

A piercing scream—no, a shout of anguish is what your disconnected mind belatedly registers before your head slowly turns to locate the source of the noise. You see Kenny first before you see Kyle and then Stan. Mustering up all of your strength to bring your shaky head higher you see the rest: Cartman underneath the door frame and Butters as he worriedly hovers nearby—everyone.

The image of you strikes everyone all at once, your body lying limp and prone in the bathtub with ashen skin and a blue tint to your lips. They think you're submerged inside a mixture of water until closer inspection reveals itself to be a deep, vivid crimson of purely concentrated blood.

Dangling over the edge of what was once a pure white porcelain tub is a limp hand, a slowly growing puddle laying underneath your fingertips and tainting the tiled floors of the bathroom. It’s like a painting—a still life as you stay hauntingly still and eerily quiet.

You register someone hauling your body out, multiple hands rushing to lay your body flat on the ground before someone pushes all of their body weight onto your mutilated wrists to apply pressure in an attempt to halt the onslaught of crimson. Hysterical sobs and panicked directions get frantically called out, voices shrill and close to breaking from the raw throats creating a cacophony of noise that ruins the tranquility of the once quiet room.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Don’t wipe off the blood or it won’t clot as well, you fucking idiot!”

“I didn’t know! How the fuck am I supposed to know?!”

Your name gets repeatedly called out like it’s a voice recording stuck in a loop—your eyes dazed and vision blurred as your hand weakly lifts up to drag your bloody fingertips against the salty wetness on someone’s smooth and already wet cheeks. Deep within your mind, you try to bring yourself to care that you’ve been found like this but all that comes up is hollow emptiness.

Voice slurring, your already unfocused vision gets overcome by the black dots dancing along your peripherals before the darkness overcomes you.

“Relax—I’m not going to kill myself.”

Believe me, I know that I couldn’t if I tried because I already have.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

You were always incredibly careful—only cutting when no one was at home because it would have been suspicious if you kept yourself locked away for a long period of time. The boys and you were extremely close, one of them never too far away and always having someone by your side.

You absolutely hated it: how you’d lie and do just about anything within your abilities to keep it a secret. The way you’d triple check to see if the lock was properly in place or that no one had sent a text indicating they had a reason to suddenly barge in before you started.

Coming to, you’re not quite sure why you’re surprised to see all of the guys crammed inside of your bedroom at the Victorian mansion you all take residence in. Cartman and Stan have always complained that it was embarrassingly cliché during the modernity of the 20th century whereas Kenny often whines that chicks didn’t dig the vintage look because it made him look like a serial killer when he attempted to bring them home.

It’s quiet, but your face is blank as they all wait for you to speak.

“What the fuck did you do to have your scars last this long..?” Kyle whispers, voice almost silent as his finger softly trails down along the raised vertical lines adorning your forearms.

There was a mixture of vertical and horizontal lines—vertical because it goes along the veins and horizontal because there was a possibility of cutting through a tendon. It was more difficult for your body to regenerate when this occurred.

Your eyebrows crease as you petulantly rip your arm away, taking note of the already faded pink color that the cuts have taken up. “Fuck off, I dont want to—”

“Y/N.” Stan firmly grasps your wrists, his emotionless face steely as he forces you to stop hiding and the deep baritone of his voice sounding very tight—no, controlled.

Biting your bottom lip at all of the unwavering stares boring down onto your already vulnerable form, Butters’ wet voice slightly wobbles in a desperate attempt to understand. “What did you do…?”

It’s quiet but stiff for a few stilted moments and even when you finally speak up, your whisper is close to non-existent. “I had to re-open them a lot.”

Sharp breaths that almost sound like sobs resound throughout the vicinity of the room as Kenny takes a shaky step back from the foot of your bed, the implication of your words paralyzing everyone with sorrow and anguish. The regenerative abilities you’re all granted works hard but it seems your razor has been working impossibly harder in contrast.

No one speaks until there's a long, slow inhale. Butters' voice is now bordering on hysterical, stricken with tears and a failure to accept the situation. “Why did you do it..?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorr—”

“Y/N.” Kyle is quick to cut off your rushed apologies, “We’re not—none of us are angry with you, love. We just want to know why you did it. Help us understand, please. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you ever tried to stop? Or thought about stopping?” Butters' knuckles are rubbed raw as he anxiously presses them together, denial heavily coating his almost manic voice.

“It’s not that simple, Butters.” Kyle’s voice is strained in thinly veiled control, his stilted words coming out of clenched teeth before his throat shifts to swallow.

“Why not?! Stop and you’ll be better—we could help you get better, N/N.”

“Butters!” Stan loudly barks out, his tightly clenched fists shaking by his sides in concealed desperation for the blonde to just stop as the skin on his knuckles becomes stark white from the pressure he exerts.

Stubbornly, Butters’ desperate pleas continue. “No! She hasn’t even tried! She can get better! She wouldn’t just let this tear us apart—“

Your nose sniffs once, a very tired sigh leaving your body when Stan takes a threatening step towards the hysterical blonde before you distantly explain. “Fucking stop! I don’t know, okay?”

“Wh—”

“I’m not sad. I actually get jealous of the people that get upset from certain events because they at least have some kind of stressor.” A laugh escapes from your raw bitten lips but it’s devoid of amusement and hollow.

Your hands are tightly clenched into fists as you shakily bring them up to tiredly scrub at your face, futilely stopping the steady stream of tears leaking out of your already swollen eyes. “Why don’t I have a clear trigger, Ky? How come there isn’t a reason or a cause to my feelings? Why am I so sick?”

Everyone feels helpless as they watch you break, the words once overfilling their bodies with question and confusion suddenly gone in the wake of your desperate question.

“Is there something wrong with me?” You sob out, your teeth applying pressure as they bite down onto your already raw lips to silence your vocal anguish.

“Oh, baby.” Kenny clumsily pushes his way towards your side on the bed, his arms firmly wrapping around your trembling form to bring your body into his comforting embrace.

A pained cry gets cut off as he gently brings your sticky face against the column of his neck, your hands quickly finding purchase at the soft material of the shirt adorning his lithe frame. You want to feel the reassurance of the blondes' physical touch but you can’t help but to yearn for the attribution of warmth that was so painstakingly absent from your bodies.

“I know that I’m not but I just wanted to feel human again.” You hiccup against the expanse of skin that your face nuzzles into, Kenny’s grip tightening around your waist as he seamlessly hauls your smaller body onto his lap.

“I’m not… I’m not going to apologize for turning you, N/N. You were fucking dying right in front of me, I couldn’t just leave you to bleed out on the fucking streets.” Stan’s voice is stubbornly quick to defend his actions but his body is rigid as the doubt starts to slowly creep through as he watches your curled up form.

“I wish you did.” You softly whisper into Kenny’s safe solace, your words not meant to be heard but they are anyway as everyone helplessly finds themselves at a loss.

“Don’t—Don’t fucking say that!” The blonde frantically yells, his arms pressing your smaller form impossibly closer to his shaking body.

Like you would simply disappear if he lost sight of you again.

And you don’t say anything, because you can’t lie.

“Wh—Hey! What the fuck are you doing?!” Kyle yells, his voice interrupting what sounded like someone going through the drawers of your furniture.

Cartman ignores him as his hands busy themselves in continuing his search through your things. He doesn’t speak up until he throws a few pill bottles onto the silk linen of your bed, the orange plastic noticeably empty.

“Six bottles of sleep aid that could triple as a goddamn horse tranquilizer are fucking missing.” His arms are crossed as he vehemently spits out, his tone admonishing the others for not paying closer attention to their beloved member of the group.

“… Fuck.” Stan mutters out, a ghostly pallor to his already dead skin as he wonders how he missed all of this happening.

How he let it get this far.

“There’s only two left.” You drowsily mumble against Kenny, his lips gently pressed against the soft locks of hair adorning the crown of your head as he holds onto you. “Tried seven times already and—“

“Okay!” Kyle loudly interrupts, his trembling hand coming up to delicately caress his forehead as he takes a shaky seat at the foot of your bed. “… Okay.”

He feels like he’s actually going to vomit.

“Fuck!” Stan seemingly explodes, his tightly clenched fist flying into one of your bookshelves. The whole entire structure falls apart at his touch, violently tossing books onto the floor and releasing a smattering of wooden splinters that are quick to follow.

“Fuck! Fuck!” His feet roughly connect with a standing floor lamp next, shattering the item against the wall as it noisily fizzles out until the room is only cast in the soft glow of your bedside table’s light.

Butters is quick to restrain the raging ravenette, sobs spilling through his mouth as he attempts to stop further destruction. The two clumsily sink to the floor, Stan abruptly losing the fight in his body as his head begins to dizzily swim at further proof of this shocking discovery.

It was overwhelming because it now felt like he was the one that couldn’t breathe, like he was the one now drowning.

a/n: i'd like to think that in this universe, team craig are werewolves with one of them being reader's love interest!! let me know if any of you would be interested in reading that :)

#south park #south park x reader #stan marsh x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #eric cartman x reader #butters stotch x reader #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #eric cartman #butters stotch #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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darkmatter-nebula · 10 months

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a universe that Hunter does not flee after the events of Hollow mind, Eda says that Hunter needs a shower, Hunter takes off all his Golden Guard clothes and Eda of course burns them, Colli levitates a towel to cover his older brother, while Hunter watching everything burned, Colli says everything will be fine, then cuts to the scene Luz can't hold back her laughter, Eda was washing Hunter's back and he wiggles funny as he tries to touch the soap bubbles he saw for the first time once and Colli was there with his big brother for everything so then Eda brought Hunter human clothes that fit him and of course his little brother, Flapjack, new little brother and sister threw him a sleepover and Hooty and Eda joined in, falling asleep all together

Hi! Thank you for the request!

The "Lost But Now Found" AU Multiverse expands even more, lol.

Drabble: Tales From The Multiverse - New Home

Even though Hunter had made a traumatic experience, the former Golden Guard knew that he'll be fine. Thanks to Colli's love. The small starboy with otherworldly fluffy lavender hair and a heart of gold gave his life a new purpose.

The blonde boy held Colli in his arms and cuddled him close to his chest. Hunter felt an massive amount of inner peace when he was with the kindhearted eternal little boy. His sweet little brother, whom he loved more than anything.

Eda felt her heart swell as she witnessed her precious Little Star being the reason for the young Grimwalker's happiness. King, who became Hunter's little brother too, joined him and Colli. Eda, Luz, Flapjack and Hooty joined in as well.

Before he fell asleep, Hunter placed soft and loving brotherly kisses all over Colli's adorable multi-colored face. His magenta eyes were filled to the brim with love and adoration for the immortal celestial boy. "I love you, Colli." Hunter whispered softly.

The End

#lost but now found au #the collector #king clawthorne #hunter #clawthorne brothers #clawthorne-noceda-deamonne-whispers brothers #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #hooty #flapjack #fanfic

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teacurry6 · 1 year

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hey-there-love · 3 years

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When I Get Home

Summary: Your number 2 pro hero boyfriend surprises you after work.

Content Warning: MATURE, 18+, Slight Adult Language, fem reader, penetrating sex, fingering

WC: 1.8K

The orange and pink hues of the sunset began to sink of the horizon. There was a slight chill in the air, signaling that autumn was around the corner. You sat quietly in a patio chair, curled up in a plush blanket and sipping on a warm mug of tea. You waited patiently for your lover to float onto the balcony and laid in front of you.

You began dating the number 2 pro hero two months ago. Hawks wandered into the flower shop you worked in part time. A relaxed conversation about tulips and roses blossomed into a coffee date. You discussed minor topics, mostly dealing with work. It felt like the date mostly reared towards listening to him go on about himself, until he asked about what your goal in life was. That was all she wrote. You spent hours bonding over your shared interests, music, movies, and books. One date turned into another and pretty soon it was clear that you two were together.

Chaste kisses and snuggles turned into the best sleep over of your life last week. A sleep over you were looking forward to again soon. The first time you were intimate with him it was passionate, slow, and sweet. Tonight, you were in for something else. Hawks had been texting you all day detailing the all the things he wanted to do with you and to you when he got off work. The particular message that sent a fire to your belly instructed you not to wear anything special because it’d be ruined.

You opted to wear a pair of grey, soft cotton shorts, a long-sleeved tee, and fuzzy socks. Underwear wasn’t in the equation for tonight. The familiar chime that Hawks had set for himself sounded. You grinned and checked your phone.

Hawks: Hey kid, i’ve got some extra paperwork at the agency. Don’t hate me.

You sighed and unraveled yourself from your cocoon and made your way inside, sliding the door behind you. It wasn’t the first time Hawks canceled on you and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. It was one of the things you had to adjust to dating a hero. His job was important, and you couldn’t let that bother you.

You washed the mug and decided for something stronger. Pulling down a glass you filled it up with a sweet wine you had been saving. You took a long sip, letting the liquid settle into your body.

You pondered on what to do with your new found time. Trailing off to the bathroom you began to fill up the bathtub. You poured the thick lavender scented soap into the water and swirled it around with your hand. Setting down two towels you stripped down and descended into the water.

You took a sip of your wine and closed your eyes, feeling your muscles relax. You loved the fresh scent of florals. You especially loved the way lavender bubble bath clung to your skin and remained as you slept through the night.

Lathering a wash cloth with your favorite soap, you washed your neck tenderly before moving down your shoulders, arms and breasts. You sank your head into the water, letting it wash you completely. You laid there for a few, feeling inner peace.

When you emerged you were met with piercing, golden eyes. You jumped before realizing who it was. “Hey kid.” Hawks purred and leaned against the doorway. He still adorned his hero costume, minus his shoes and coat. You grinned and slid futher into the bubbles, feeling bashful.

“I thought you were hung up at work?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow. Hawks flashed that beautiful smile you had come to love before unbuckling his belt. Letting his pants drop to the floor with a thud.

“What can I say? I work quick under certain circumstances.” Hawks replied, slipping his socks off his feet and pulling his shirt over his head, leaving a pile on his clothes on the floor infront of him.

“You know, you should really lock your doors, someone might break in.” He teased. He located your towel cabinet and set out a few fluffy towels for himself. One for his body and one for his wings.

You laughed and responded, “The doors are locked and I live on the third floor!” You drank in his frame. Hawks wasn’t a tall man, you both stood at even stance. What he lacked in his height his wings made up for.

The scarlet plumage was his signature. Hawks took excellent care of his wings, making sure every feather settled in place. He was downright beautiful in every single way. His golden eyes shone in every shade of light. The blonde style he sported was always windswept, but surprisingly neat.

Hawks was more god like than any other man you’ve come into contact with. “Can I join you or are you going to keep eyeballing me?” He remarked, sliding the final piece of clothing down his thighs. You swallowed at the sight. Well endowed was an understatement. The last time you engaged in extra curricular activities you were sore the next day.

You shifted forward in the tub and allowed him to sit down behind you. Hawks wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your back towards his chest, holding you tight in place. He peppered light kisses across your neck. You smiled and relaxed into him. Brushing your hand through his hair gingerly, you enjoyed the moment.

He placed another kiss to your shoulder blade and inhaled the scent. “I got you some flowers. Coincidentally they smell like you.” He whispered to your skin.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You sighed, feeling touched by the simple gesture.

Hawks ran his hands against your stomach, stopping short of your mound. He repeated the action as he began to speak, “I just wanted to make sure you felt appreciated, babe.” His left hand kneeled across your breast tenderly, twisting and pinching the bud of your nipple. “Can’t have you feeling like I forgot about the things we talked about today.”

You moaned at his touch, endulging yourself in the words he spoke. His right hand began to roam across your stomach again, this time he didn’t stop, he explored more. “So open yourself up,” Hawks crooned and spread your legs with his hand, “and let me do all the things I’ve been thinking about.”

So you did, you gave yourself to him fully. You rested against him, laying your head down in the crook of his neck. You spread your legs futher allowing easier access to your core. Hawks began to rub your clit lazily. Small jolts of electricity shot through your lower half.

You hissed as the pace began to increase. You could feel the smirk plastered on his face. He was enjoying it as much as you were. He paid your breasts equal attention. The swirls he produced on your clit were mesmerizing. He applied just the right amount of pressure that it made your toes curl.

You were in pure ecstasy by the time he dipped a finger into your core. It was just the finger tip at first, teasing and stretching your opening. Then he sank into you, making your back arch. The water sloshed around you two carelessly as you bucked your hips. “God you look so cute when your face is curled up in pleasure kid.” Hawks praised.

He tenderly added a second finger to the mix. Finding your pleasure spot, he curled his fingers up and hit the spot several times. You felt his erection grow on your back. He groaned everytime you shifted against him. Pretty soon you felt that sweet knot tightening in your stomach. “I’m close!v” You cried out and grasped onto the side of the tub for support.

“That’s it baby, cum for me.” Hawks egged on. That was all it took. You fell over the edge into pleasure. Your breathing was ragged as you tried to calm yourself down. He chuckledt and rubbed your head. “Let’s get out. I’m not finished with you yet.”

You peaked over your shoulder to glance at him. The look on his face was dead serious. You shuddered at the threat before stepping out. He wasn’t far behind you, grabbing your towel and drapped it around your shoulders. You thanked him and wrapped the other around your hair.

The two of you dried off quickly, water droplets clung to your skin. You were quite the pair giggling and running to your bedroom like a couple of teenagers. Hawks shoved you back gently onto the comforter and disrobed you.

His mouth attached to yours, this kiss was different than the sweet ones before. It was deeper and filled with more fire. This was the first time he kissed you today and you could feel the desire behind it. He pushed the towel that was wrapped around your head so he could run his hand through your damp hair.

Your hand found it’s way to his cheek to hold him close, stroking his jaw in the process. You couldn’t get enough of each other. “I need you.” You breathed against him lips. Your arousal became evident as his erection pressed against your core.

“You’ve got me.” Hawks whispered into your ear. You were completely ready by the time he slipped into you. His moans melted into yours. His thrusts were deep, hitting every sweet spot inside of you. You relished in the closeness.

His wings shuddered with delight, some tickled your arms. He was quite a sight ontop of you. The golden pools of honey bore into your soul. You felt beautiful as he praised you each time he sank into you.

The sweet love making during into something primal when he threw your legs over his shoulders, crossing his arms against them to hold them to his chest. The sounds that streamed out of your mouth weren’t cute whines anymore. He was deeper than ever before. Your breasts bounced as he pounded harder.

Hawks increased his pace, making your orgasm rush towards you. You came quickly and chanted his name like it was your favorite song. Your back arched off the mattress, leaving a strain on your thighs. It didn’t matter. You could tell he was enjoying himself by the groans escaping him.

“Such. A. Good. Girl.” Hawks said in between thrusts. “Shit. I’m almost there.” He called, squeezing your legs for dear life. The strokes became sloppy and he pulled out to paint you with his load. His cum shot everywhere, landing on your stomach and breasts. His pride was set aside as he whined and panted, relishing in his release.

He collapsed ontop of you and peppered your face in sweet kisses. “Worth the wait?” He questioned into your shoulder.”

“Definitely.”

#hawks smut #my hero academia hawks #pro hero hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks #mha keigo x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo x y/n #keigo takami smut

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roanniom · 3 years

Note

My request is probably so lame lol. But will you please tell us about Valentines Day with Flip? How does he spoil you and make it extra special for you? I’d love it if you could throw in some praise kink and size kink too please!

I love all your writing and you’re so talented! Thank you for entertaining my request! 💛

Hi my lovelies, thanks for your patience with this, seeing as it is coming over a week after Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t 100% I had another Valentine’s story in me after my Clyde and Charlie ones, but I chose to combine these prompts, got a little inspiration today and voila - a sweet and salty Flip one shot was born. Hope you’re cool with me combining and taking a bit from each of these requests! ❤️

Stupid Little Day in February

Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 3,890

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex / semi-public sex / unprotected sex, angst in the form of Flip wanting to love up his lady but having work get in the way

Flip had never intended to find himself in this position. He was a perfectionist, giving everything he had and then some in an effort to be successful in all he did – high school sports, his career at the department, his relationships. It’s why he always tries to make time for the boys, being there for Ron whenever he needs help or just someone to bitch to over a beer after work. It’s why he does his best to shower you with love and affection every chance he gets, bringing home little gifts and spending lazy Sundays doing nothing but you. And he thought that, all things considered, he’d been doing a damn good job.

That is until he overheard you on the phone with your friend the other day. You were twirling the coiled cord around your finger while you lounged on the couch laughing and chatting animatedly. He’d walked by and into the kitchen, careful not to disturb you, but as he cracked open a beer he heard something that made his stomach drop.

“Yeah I know I love Valentine’s Day, but Flip hates it so I can be cool with that.”

Flip had left his beer on the counter and moved silently to the doorway, ears straining to hear the rest of the conversation, mind racing to all the times he had, indeed, condemned the holiday of love as a sappy excuse for bad boyfriends to redeem themselves. A day to stimulate the gift industry. You’d laughed and teased him for his soap box routine and grumpy demeanor but you hadn’t argued.

“Besides, I’ve told you. The man gets me flowers like three days a week. He remembers things, like really remembers things. And he listens. I’d trade fancy dinner, red hearts, and chocolate for him any day.”

And though you’d defended him to your friend, your words had stuck with Flip. He wanted to give you the moon, he would if it wasn’t so damn high up. The least he could do was indulge you in something you enjoyed. You did that for him constantly – sitting through football games, hanging with the boys at the bar, listening to country music though you told him that deep inside it made you want to murder the jukebox. You sucked it up and took it with a smile so you could be with him. Flip kicked himself for not being able to do the same with some stupid holiday.

But at the exact moment Flip vowed to right this wrong, the universe seemed to have made a competing vow to ruin all of his efforts. It seemed that the revelation had come to late, being that it was already the night before Valentine’s Day. He was horrified the next morning to find, after a series of tense calls made at his desk hunched over and hushed so none of the other detectives could here, every restaurant in town was booked full. Which ended up being a moot point because the chief demanded he stay late, regardless of how much he gnashed his teeth.

“Everyone with a serious gal already asked for the night off, Zimmerman. It’s too late now. Guess your gal isn’t that serious,” was the only reply he received.

Head in his hands at his desk, Flip flinched when his back received a firm clap.

“Now I know we’re in the contemplating-marriage-territory here with this girl,” Ron said, pulling a seat up and fixing Flip with a concerned look. “What’s all this about not taking time off?”

Flip repeated the conversation that he’d overheard, sure to explain that he had no intention of disappointing you despite your good nature.

“You do realize that this could easily be remedied by a simple call to your woman, right?” Ron asked as Flip massaged the space between his eyes.

“I wanted to surprise her. Calling at this point feels like admitting defeat.”

“Do you hear yourself? ‘Admitting defeat?’ This isn’t some damn battle, it’s a holiday for a fat little baby with wings.”

“Hey, he does have a weapon,” Flip countered, though this time he cracked a smile. Ron laughed heartily.

“Yeah, one that’s been used to shoot you and your little lady enough to kill a small elephant. You guys are pumped so full of the love juice it’s a wonder you’re able to concentrate on anything else.” Ron turned then and flicked the large stack of files on Flip’s desk with a smirk. “Or maybe that’s your problem, Zimmerman.”

Flip shook his head.

“That might be the case for me, but – ”

“Are you seriously about to argue that she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“How the fuck would you know?” Flip asked gruffly. Ron, used to Flip’s gruffness much as you were, plowed right on through.

“Well besides all the dinner parties and barbeques and nights we all go dancing?” Ron raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Patrice, man! You think those women get together and don’t talk about us?”

“Patrice has told you things?” Flip’s whole body tensed and Ron was quick to reassure.

“Calm the fuck down, I don’t want any of your dirty details. All I know is your woman is crazy in love with you. I don’t think some stupid little day in February is going to rock your world as much as you think it will.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Flip conceded, putting his head in his hands.

“I’m always right, you just never listen,” Ron said good-naturedly as he headed back to his desk. Over his shoulder he tossed one final piece of wisdom. “Whatever you do, just call her!”

~*~

And Flip did try to call you. Ten times as a matter of fact. It wasn’t until the sun set out the window and he hung up the phone for the tenth time that he remembered you’d had plans to hang out with your mother today. While that probably should have made him feel better – you had filled your day with plenty of things and probably wouldn’t even notice his failed attempt at romance – he couldn’t help but agonize the fact that it proved you had expected so little of him in the first place.

It’s with this on his mind that Flip buries himself in his paperwork. It’s 8pm and every member of the Colorado Springs police force that hadn’t taken the holiday off is out for a dinner break, Flip having sullenly waved them off so he could sulk in peace. He’s neck-deep in casefiles when he hears the sound of footsteps coming in from the bullpen. It was much too soft to be the tread of any of the beat cops he’d expected to see tonight and Judy, the night shift receptionist, wasn’t due in till later.

“Burning the midnight oil there, detective?”

Flip’s head snaps up at your voice to find you leaning against the doorframe to his office, arms folded casually across your chest, cheeky smile gracing your lips.

“Baby, what are you doing here?” Flip asks breathlessly as he makes to stand up. He freezes mid-motion, however, when you hold a hand up.

“Ah ah ah, no need to get up,” you tsk, closing the door with a gentle click and dropping your bag to the floor before making your way over to him. He hesitates but lowers himself back into his seat, eyes trained on your frame slinking toward him. You drop your palms to his desk and hoist yourself up onto it, prowling forward across the surface on your hands and knees toward him. “I heard my man needed some cheering up.”

“You did?” Flip asks, a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth as he leans back in his seat to enjoy what has already been and promises to be quite a show. Legs spread wide and hands gripping the arm rests he hasn’t really even heard what you said. Instead he is focusing every single brain cell on the cleavage that is visible through the red peacoat he’s never seen you wear, chest now slightly exposed as you slowly slide off the scarf you’d used to obscure it.

“Yeah. I heard you wanted to love on me but couldn’t because of work,” you say in a low voice, scooting forward so that one leg dangles off the edge of the desk on the outside of Flip’s left thigh while you place your other foot on the edge of his chair to the right of his other thigh. His gaze flits to the expanse of inner thigh that is now visible to him, your legs bare beneath the peacoat despite the freezing mid-February chill outside. His hand shoots up to smooth over your thigh, warming your skin, just as his brain catches up to your words.

“Now where exactly did you hear that, sugar?” He asks with a small frown. One of your hands reaches out to his shoulder, pulling him in his wheeled office chair closer to you and the desk. The same hand slides down his shoulder to smooth back and forth over the plane of his chest, just as your other hand threads into his hair.

“I can’t go around divulging my secrets,” you say breathily, leaning forward and arresting his lips in a sensuous kiss. You are the first to deepen it, tongue flitting over his lips to beg for entrance before plunging into the depths of his mouth. You kiss him greedily like you’re seeking the breath from his lungs to be the source of your own oxygen. Like the pressure of his lips on yours will warm the late winter cold from your bones. When you slide off the desk and into his lap, straddling his thick denim-clad thighs, Flip moans into the kiss, making you break away with a pleased hum. You relish in the look of his kiss-bruised lips, red and wet from the fervor of your contact. “Maybe cupid dropped by with a little message. Told me to come on down here and drive you wild.”

Flip’s breathing deeply at this point but the new intake of air seems to get the gears moving better in his mind. He frowns.

“And by cupid you mean Ron.”

“Bingo, baby,” you confirm with a smile before pressing a kiss to his furrowed brow. “Don’t be mad at him, though. He told me how you tried to make tonight special for me and that you’d probably bite off the heads of everyone working the night shift if I didn’t make my way down here quick.”

“I set something up. I did what I could, things just kept going wrong…”

“Shhh….” Your kisses migrate from his forehead to his cheek, pressing into his dimples till his frown smooths out and his eyes close again. Only then do you move down to mouth at the column of his throat, pressing your lips to his Adam’s apple. “So how many are there?”

“How many what?” he asks distractedly, eyes still closed.

“Dead bodies of people who had the misfortune to cross paths with my grumpy mountain man?” you ask, the smile clear in your voice though you speak the words into his skin. Flips hands tighten around your hips.

“I’m only grumpy because you deserve the fuckin’ moon and I’m stuck here behind a desk.”

“Well, if you haven’t noticed,” you say, angling in his lap so that your lower back leans against the edge of the desk behind you. “I am also behind the desk with you. So maybe it’s not all bad.”

It is at this point that you pop the few buttons at the front of our coat, allowing it to drop open and reveal the gauzy, see-through red negligee you are wearing beneath. It comes down only to the tops of your thighs, but most important of all, you are completely bare beyond the fabric. Your breasts are held in the negligee’s sheer lace cups, nipples hard, and not a scrap of panties obstructs his view of your cunt, evidently glistening from this angle, even through the garment.

“Sugar.” He intones it soft, deep. It’s a statement. A warning as his eyes slide back up your body to lock on your own hungry stare. “You’re just looking for trouble here.”

With a devious smile you settle forward again, rolling your pelvis this time to rub your heat conspicuously over the growing bulge in his jeans.

“You can punish me later, Flip,” you whisper softly in his ear as you reach down to unbuckle his belt. “When you get home. But for now let me reward you.”

“What’s there to reward me for, darlin’?” Flip asks, helping you rid him of his belt and unfasten the buttons of his Levi’s. He’s not even sure why he’s pressing the matter. You’re here, rubbing your gorgeous body all of his in the middle of his workplace like some fucking fever dream and here he is, practically reminding you of his unworthiness. In some kind of verbal act of self-flagellation.

“Flip Zimmerman,” you chide, even as you pull his half-hard dick out of the opening you’ve made in his pants, careful to keep the rest of his clothing neat. “There’s always something to reward you for.” You begin applying a few measured strokes to his length, squeezing at the base and rolling your wrist to smooth the motion up to his tip.

“Fuck,” Flip grunts quietly, his head dropping to hit the back of the chair.

“This morning you sprinkled cinnamon on my oatmeal. Last night you handed me that lotion that smells like jasmine when I got out of the shower, the one I love so much.” You kiss his jaw as you say this and let your eye lashes flutter against his cheek in the process.

“Those are little things. Nothing,” Flip argues, still mentally kicking himself for the knee-jerk way he keeps dragging this on. Living in this guilt despite your loving ministrations which suggest you feel exactly the opposite.

“They aren’t little to me,” you say, your tone abruptly serious and your fingers digging into his jaw to keep him looking at you. “You read to me on Sunday afternoons. You take me camping whenever you get time off.”

Your tone returns to its original gentleness and you duck your head so that you can nip at Flip’s earlobe. Your hand continues its steady pace on his cock, thumb swirling around in the precum collecting on his tip.

“You fuck me. Good and hard and slow and fast and every which way I need it.” He’s painfully hard now, both from your hand and from your focused attention on him. From the words falling from your lips. He gazes back at you with blackened eyes and massages the skin of your hips and ass with his large, warm hands. You lick the shell of his ear then, marveling in the way it always turns red and hot, regardless of his confidence, regardless of his dominance. “You meet my needs, Flip, every day. And today is just any old day. So just like you do for me, I’m going to meet your needs, and you’re going to enjoy it.”

You say this as you lift yourself up with the muscles of your thighs and line him up with your entrance, sinking down on his cock just as you get to the last few words. Flip immediately mutters a string of hushed curses, fingers digging into your hips through your gauzy negligee so hard you’re already looking forward to the bruises. He breathes through his nose, his labored exhales fanning across your face as you work to adjust to him, eventually swiveling your hips a bit.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to yours. Your face is screwed up in pleasure-pain and you huff out a laugh.

“No, you’re just fucking huge.” Your statement gets a groan from him and you smirk as you begin to lift yourself up and down on Flip’s cock with his help. Your walls pulse, stroking his cock as your tongue moves on to stroking his ego. “You’re so big, Flip. Too big. I can barely take you.”

“You’re taking me just fine, sugar,” he shakes his head, eyes rolling back in their sockets as you grind into him on a down motion. “So wet. This little pussy takes me so well.”

“You fill me up, Flip. Stuff me – ohhh fuck – stuff me so full I think I might burst.” You reach one hand back to grip the edge of the desk for leverage while your other hand digs into the skin of his shoulder.

“Oh for me you do burst, baby. You burst and gush all over me like the good girl you are,” Flip whispers into your clavicle when you throw your head back, an automatic response to him beginning to aid you by thrust up into your quivering cunt himself. This sounds more like your Flip. Confident and powerful. Pressing all the right buttons to drive you wild. “My good girl.”

“I love it when you call me that,” you admit softly.

“A good girl?”

“Your good girl,” you correct.

“My good girl,” Flip repeats and your pussy clenches around him hard in response. So naturally Flip says it again. “You’re my good girl.”

Your breathing has increased rapidly, spurred on in no small part by the way one of his hands has snaked up to pluck a breast from its lacy confines. His head dips to suck your nipple into his mouth and you hum.

“Who’s good girl are you?” Flip asks into your breasts.

“I’m your good girl.”

You begin ridding him harder, faster. The slick seeping onto his cock around your swollen lips indicates that you’re farther along than he’d expect, a suspicion that you soon confirm with a whimper.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous. He’s used to marathon lovemaking. Even a quick fuck in a bathroom stall usually becomes indulgent for you two, trading speed for roughness and lewdness.

“I kind of…got ready before I – ah! – came here.” You bite your lip as you say it and Flip resists the urge to pull your lip out and claim it for himself.

“And by ‘got ready’ you mean…” he prompts, a wicked smile spreading on his face.

“I touched myself,” you admit, no shame in your words. “I touched myself while thinking about my handsome man and his handsome cock and the way it was going to fill me when I came over here.”

Flip grabs one of your hands then, zeroing in on your fingers. All the while he keeps thrusting up into you, feet flat on the floor and muscles rippling throughout his body with the effort.

“Did these fingers rub your little clit?”

“Yes,” you say, still confident. Flip licks a stripe up your index and middle finger, almost as if doing so would allow him to taste remnants of your essence.

“Did you stuff them inside your pussy. Press that little spot inside you like so much?” As he says it he thrusts up and forward, making his cock drag against your front wall in a way that’s got you buckling in on yourself.

“Oh god oh yes. Yes!” You’re trying to remain as quiet as possible but it’s getting harder by the second. The station was empty save for Flip when you’d arrive but soon other people would return. A fact that made your pussy drool all the more on Flip’s throbbing cock.

Flip watches you fall apart in his arms and speeds up the process by sucking on your fingertips, splitting them apart with his tongue and laving each equally. You swallow a moan as he brings your own wetted fingers down to the apex of your thighs.

“Show me,” he breathes, moving forward to kiss your lips. “Show me what I do to you.”

You begin rubbing your clit just as Flip assaults your senses in all other ways. He captures your mouth in a kiss while simultaneously returning to kneading at your breasts with abandon, tugging and squeezing at the pillowy flesh.

“Did you cry out my name in that empty house when you came?” he prompts. You shake your head feverishly, your thighs shaking around him as your climax nears.

“No. I didn’t cum. I saved that for you.”

In a flash of blinding pleasure, you unraveling on top of him, careful to suppress the reaction to little gasps and whimpers instead of the loud praise and guttural moans you would have preferred to let out. The suddenness of your orgasm catches Flip off guard and he is utterly unprepared for the way your walls flutter and pulse, ultimately milking his cock of his own release. You collapse in his arms with a shaky laugh, one he’s only able to reciprocate when the ringing in his ears begin to lessen and his heart stops trying to pound a route out of his chest.

You both revel in the afterglow for a few minutes after, holding each other like you aren’t in his office in the middle of the Colorado Springs Police Department. Like people aren’t about to file in after their dinner break, bellies full and completely unaware of the fact that Flip had just railed you into next February.

After a while, Flip finally pulls out and tucks himself away, once again the picture of professionalism. Or at least, as much the picture of professionalism as Flip cares to appear, what with his eternal flannel and comfortably warm in jeans, the wet patch of your arousal finally fading. He helps you clean up with some napkins he has stashed in a drawer, ultimately bundling you back up in your coat and scarf. You now look sweet and warm again, a stark contrast to the vixen who had crawled across his desk and stripped for him.

Now descent, you settle back into his lap sideways, opting not to straddle him tis time in case someone did finally walk in. You run a finger through the hair at his chin.

“You said earlier you said you’d ended up setting something up for me. What was it?”

Flip blinks at your question for a few seconds before letting out a laugh that ripples from deep in his belly.

“I sent Jimmy and his brother with a box of chocolates over to the house. They were supposed to sing you a Motown duet.”

“I would pay to hear that. When are they supposed to get there?”

“They’re supposed to arrive right now.”

With that you dissolve into a fit of laughter, falling into his chest as you heave from it. Flip’s arms wind around you and tug you tighter to him. And in that moment, he almost believes in this stupid holiday. Almost believes in the cartoon hearts and the fat little winged baby that flies around shooting people. What else could possibly explain the sharp pain radiating from his chest when he looks at you? The ache that dulls as it floods to his extremities, simmering into a warmth that fills him from head to toe? All Flip can think as he smooths his thumb over your smiling lips is that cupid better have a up-to-date permit for that bow of his.

~*~

Tagging some lovelies <3 (please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from this list in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @mrs-zimmerman @maryforyou @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @equivocalrabbit @soggywhore @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess

#request #queeniebee #anon #valentine's day #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you #Flip Zimmerman/reader #Flip Zimmerman/you #Flip Zimmerman smut #Flip Zimmerman fanfiction #smut #writing #roanniom #tw: semi public sex #cw: semi-public sex

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theodora3022 · 3 years

Text

Bloody Rose(Sebastian Michaelis x Vampire F!reader)

Request: Sabastian with a female vampire s/o? Can be yandere or not! You choose.

Notes: I made this in headcanons form and I’m typing on mobile during witching hours, so bear with me dear anon-

I decided to go with fluff since I am in a soft mood today~~

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of blood

To others, you were a tailor owning a small haute couture shop, a spinster who make her living by making outfits. But they won’t know you been doing this since the Georgian times.

You move from county to county, around England every decade or so, to avoid suspension. Luckily no vampire hunters has ever been on your tail: you consider yourself as a good subject to the crown despite being a blood drinker. You only consume animal blood, which made you a harmless vegetarian. Being a forever maiden is not unpleasant by any means, apart from being banished from sunlight. You miss being able to run around in the sun freely. When you do go out during a sunny day you cover yourself in fabric as much as possible, resulting you with overly pale skin.

Contrary to common belief, you slept until the afternoon, opening up the store even during the day. You had forced yourself to change your biological routine to fit in the human society. Although your bed resembles a traditional coffin in shape, it is never an actual one. The mirrors in your shop were not backed by silver, so you can still see your reflections.

You happened to be at late Victorian London when a mysterious murderer decides to drain the blood of thier victims like a vampire would, how unfortunate.

You were one of the suspects, so Sabastian and his lord were obligated to pay you a visit. Although they did not put you as priority to begin with: you never done things like this.

You welcomed them to your store with a polite smile and warm greetings, as any good saleswoman would.

Ever since transforming, you had not drank a drop of human blood. However, you can still smell the scent of their blood even through skin. It feels like...a natural perfume to you, to describe it at best. Some are sweeter then others, like tempting sweet delights, and you had to make sure you are well fed before going near them.

That little lord’s blood is sweet and tempting. The butler, however, his blood just...is that even blood? You thought to yourself. It reminds you of the mighnight, danger lurking underneath the peaceful surface.This man is no ordinary human, you can sense that much. You had never delt with a demon before, therefor your knowledge is rather limited, only from books and theaters.

Vampires are demons are cut from the same cloth, in a way right? Both can only venture in the shadows for eternity, trying to get by without being slain by those self righteous dastards. Sebastian had met some of your kind over the centuries, albiet none of them are as lovely as you are. You still act like a young human woman, if not for your overly pale skin you would be considered as normal. He wonders what made you this way, as all vampires, save a selected few, are humans before something happened. You seem like a kind lady, not one of those blood-hungry lowlifes he had seen before.

You showed Ciel your collection, took his measurements when he demanded, never flinching away from the young lord’s cold attitude. When you went into the inner chamber to retrive more material choice, Ciel decided you are most likely not the murderer they are looking for, and Sebastian agrees. There is not a single scent of human blood on you or anywhere in sight, as demons can smell such things even one uses the finest soap to cover the traces. Even though you are a vampire, if you are harmless to others Ciel is not intersted in fighting you(he has a demon for butler, so?).

“But she is a fine tailor, right milord? Maybe you can just make this a normal shopping trip.” What an unsual person you are, thought Sebastian. He might just take a little more time to observe you. It has been forever since he met another immortal being that does not irritates him.

“Very well. This would not be a complete waste of time then. I need a new suit for the social season anyway.” The young man tsked.

When they asks you to deliver the order yourself, you were hesitant about going outside. Your ususal customers send their servents to collect their orders, as you insisted so. You know what sunburns can do to you, but they offered you a down payment you cannot refuse. It is a risk you are willing to take. Even vampires needs gold to survive, if you do not wish to massacre humans for food.

The moment you stepped onto the estate, covered in a long hooded cloak and gloves, you can sense great calamity has occured in this location rather recently. But that is none of your concerns, the customer’s private life is nothing to pry about.

The servents...they are an odd flock, to say the least. They might seem clumsy or even impotent, but you know that butler knows better then to hire three imbeciles.

After you made your delivery, Sebastian insists on you staying for the afternoon tea. You wanted to decline, since normal food has been tasting like wet paper ever since that awful day, but you find it hard to say keep saying no to such a comely man. He is the most goregous male you ever seen, and you say that as an immortal. The term “devilishly handsome” is like a tailor made suit for him.

To your surprise, you can faintly taste the refreshement’s fruity flavours. When you were human yourself you have always loved food, missing it much when all you can taste is blood. So you helped yourself to quite a few tarts and biscuits, not knowing the demon had added special ingredients just for your vampire taste buds. You were so focused on your plate that you missed Sebastian’s calculating smile.

That esclated rather quickly, soon you found yourself promising to tailor more clothes for Earl Phantomhive, therefore being on their premise more.

Sebastian would always treat you to a plate of mouth-watering refreshments before you depart. Soon you find yourself answering his somewhat intrusive questions, as it is only fair to give him some compensation for those delicious treats.

The questions are surfaces ones at first. What is your favorite color or your preferred weather. Then to more personal territory, such as the reason behind your spinsterhood or what in a man that attracts you the most. You would blush madly, a feeling you have not felt in years fills your empty soul, and tell him your little answers.

How endearing. Compare to werewolves who behaves like canines, vampire leans closer to the feline side. You reminds Sebastian greatly of the black cat he encountered last spring. Your nonchalant and cheerful attitude are identical to the lovely creature. Oh and how he loves petting her soft fur. He wonders how your hair would feel under his hands. He initially might just be curious of how an odd vampire you are, but now the demon had found you to be quite an entertaining presence.

It has been so long since you had any friends, so you opened up to him quickly, disregarding the risks. You even revealed your identity to the man in black after he swears on his heart to not tell a soul.

“My entire family was slaughtered by venegeful vampires. My father used to work as a vampire hunter for the mad King, therefore he made enemies of many. Ironically I survived, only to found out I turned into this. A creature who can only hide in the shadows forever. I swore I would never be like those blood suckers, I would never kill someone just to saitate my blood lust. Thank you Sabastian, for all those delicious cakes. They made me feel human agian once more. Also thank you for listening to my rambles, it has been so many years I confided in someone.” So you where a noble lady once. That is where your fine but antiquated manners originates from.

What a calamity you had suffered, yet you remain strong and lighthearted nonetheless. Moving from place to place, afraid to be burnt for your youthful appearance.You deserve to be cherished as the treasure you cleary are. No more hiding and running, not if he can help it.

You gladly accepted Lord Phantomhive’s offer to serve as the household’s tailor, the pay is generous and working for one person greatly reduce the risk of being discovered. Plus you get to spend more time with your new friend Sebastian! It is an offer you cannot turn down.

Sebastain is in a contract right now, but Ciel could only live so long. Prior to meeting you, he never thought about the future after his contract is completed. He imagined the two of you traveling across the European contient as friends, or something more, for the rest of your infinate lives. He has always been alone whenever he was not in a contract with humans, but the idea of being with someone forever is rather appealling to the demon.

Even though he does not let his emotions discract him from his duties, you can still feel how he smiles whenever you enter the room. You would curl up your lips jovially in return, sometimes even teases him for having a charming smile.

For now, Sebastian would be your good friend, always lend an ear to you for anything, or offer his shoudler should you need it, as long it does not get in the way of his duties to his liege. But who knows what would happen after the contract is completed? The world is yours to explore, with infinate amount of time, with him by your side.

#black butler #black butler fluff #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michealis x reader #black butler imagines

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whathappenedtomyweekend · 3 years

Text

It’s Just A Spark Ch.17 - Anchor

A loud, blaring sound tore through the silence, abruptly waking Astrid from her sleep. She sat up, the mist in her head slowly fading as the noise continued.

"What-"

She felt Hiccup move next to her and scramble off the plank bed, cursing under his breath.

"That's an emergency," he said then, throwing her an apologetic look. "I'm on call and response duty."

It took her a couple of seconds to understand, but when she did, Astrid nodded. "Okay."

Hiccup sighed and stepped closer to her, helmet already in his hand.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It's not your fault."

He did not look convinced. The young woman smiled at him in the dim light and kissed his cheek. "It's okay, really. Now come on, I'm waiting for your response to the call, don't waste that time with me."

"No time spent with you is wasted," he mumbled reluctantly, but got up when she laughed and pushed him away, pulling her up with him into a kiss.

He couldn't help but linger for a couple of seconds, but forced himself to let go of her.

Astrid looked up at him, her smile sobering him up.

"Don't get fried."

____________________________________________________

"Okay, guys, what do we got?"

Scott and Gobber briefly looked up as Hiccup strode into the room, slipping his gloves on. The three men exchanged a brief glance, and Gobber gave them both a short nod.

"A boat down at the docks caught fire, they don't know if anyone's still on there," Scott caught him up as they rushed towards the exit to the garage. Hiccup nodded sharply at his cousin.

"Right, let's go."

They saw the smoke minutes before they arrived at the docks.

Hiccup's heart sank at the small crowd of onlookers and stopped the engine.

"I'll take care of that and check for injuries, you get the hose ready, if anybody's inside I'll beep you," Hiccup directed Snotlout, who nodded and together they got out of the fire engine.

Hiccup scanned his eyes over the small crowd and quickly spotted Mulch, who was trying to usher people away.

"Hey, Mulch!"

The older man's head snapped up and within a few steps Hiccup was next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you know what happened? Is everyone alright?"

Even as he spoke, he could tell that whatever Mulch was about to tell him - it wasn't anything good. His face contorted.

"I wasn't on the boat, but I think someone's still on there - I just - I'm sorry, I tried to get everyone away, it spread to our boat after I called you."

Hiccup nodded, patting his shoulder. "It's fine, Mulch, you did good. Hey, Scott!"

Scott caught his eye and nodded when Hiccup waved towards the burning boats and then himself, signalling his intentions. Snotlout nodded, unlocking the engine and pulled the fire hose out. His shouts for people to clear the path and make way for him to get through to the hydrant were drowned out for Hiccup over the numbing buzz of the fire as he walked closer to it.

He lowered his visor and stepped inside.

The fire was biting at the wood, licking at his own feet as he tried to find a path through the flames and the smoke, desperately trying to make out any movement or figure through it all.

"Hello?" he called out, crouching below the already low deck above him.

"Is anybody here?"

A deep, rasp sound made him stop. It was faint, but distinctly different from the buzzing and crackling of the fire.

"Hello?" he shouted again, louder this time, listening carefully.

There it was again. Hiccup moved towards it, or at least to where he thought it was, and there was no room for any doubt through the rush of adrenaline and the blur around him, so he crawled closer to where the sound was coming from, and a second later he saw a figure slumped on the ground, unmoving.

His stomach dropped but his legs carried him towards the body, and then everything was happening almost automatically.

His mind was racing by the time he was out of the boat again, completely unaware of the state of the person he was carrying.

He stopped near the fire engine, dropping to the ground.

"Snot - oxygen, I need a bronchodilator ready!" he ground out, laying the person - who he now recognised to be a young man, not much older than him, younger even, a boy almost - down on the ground, quickly checking for pulse and breathing before he got him into lateral recumbent position.

Within a few moments Scott was at his side and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You good?"

Hiccup nodded grimly, his eyes fixed on the unconscious young man as he reached into his inner pocket.

"I'm waiting for the phlegm. He needs to cough it out. You called the meds yet?"

"Yeah, they're on their way, should be two minutes away now."

"Good," Hiccup ground out, tearing the lid of his asthma spray away with his teeth.

Breathe out. Press. Inhale. Hold breath. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Exhale.

He closed his eyes, his body relaxing as he felt the weight on his chest lighten and finally disappear and drew a couple of deep breaths.

The young man on the ground rasped out a deep, heavy cough, gasping for air.

Hiccup nodded, placing a firm hand on his back to keep him from rolling on his back.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're okay. I got you."

____________________________________________________

Hiccup allowed himself a moment of rest as they watched the ambulance drive away.

"He'll be fine," he told Snotlout, but maybe said this more to reassure himself. His cousin only nodded and gave him a short pat on the back.

"You good?"

Hiccup nodded in affirmation. "Yeah. Let's get back. Can't wait to get the report on that one done."

Scott shot him a grin and shook his head as he got behind the stirring wheel. "I'm not saying I don't admire your drive to write a mandatory formality for the sake of bureaucracy at 4 am in the morning, but I sure as hell don't understand it."

Hiccup laughed and leaned back, watching the water shimmer under the moonlight as the waves hit the shoreline.

He thought of how fragile the boat's floor had felt beneath his feet. It was then he really realised, maybe got a full grasp on it - that really, his profession was dangerous. And not only that, it would have an effect on the people in his life if something happened to him. He thought of Astrid and how he couldn't predict anything. He could spend any moment with her and it could be their last one.

His gaze fell into his lap and he realised he'd pulled out his phone. He clicked on her contact, smiling at her profile picture for a second before he typed, 'good morning! Just wanted to let you know we made it out okay, i hope you made it home okay and slept well!'

Hiccup locked his phone and put it back into his pocket, exhaling slowly.

Thinking about it like this made everything seem incredibly, terribly fragile.

But maybe, just maybe, it also felt like now he had an anchor. Someone to check in with after a mission, outside of work. He closed his eyes, letting the sudden wave of peacefulness wash over him.

He found himself almost drifting off then, just now fully realising the exhaustion settling in his bones, so he allowed himself to close his eyes for a bit until they were back at the department.

Back at the headquarters Hiccup beelined to the bathroom, indulged in a ten-minute shower, watching the grime wash down the drain, and - for good measure - washed his face with hard soap.

"You want a tea, son?" Gobber asked him as he found him sitting on the sofa in the common room, vigorously rubbing his hair dry.

The young man looked up and smiled. "Yeah, thanks."

"So," Gobber intoned conversationally, shifting from one foot to the other. "Astrid left a little while after you got called out."

Hiccup hesitated. "I thought she'd gone straight home. She stayed with you?"

His mentor shrugged. "She came down here and we sat for a bit, had a cup of tea together and talked for a while. She's a nice young woman."

He kept eyeing him from the side. Hiccup knew there was something Gobber wasn't telling him and furrowed his brow in almost-annoyance.

"What?"

Gobber paused, then sighed and sat down next to him. "Listen, boy," he started, hesitating for a second. "I don't need to tell you our job is hard - and dangerous."

Hiccup snorted, taking a sip of his tea. "You can say that again."

"What I'm trying to say is," Gobber continued, still looking at him from the side, somewhat concerned almost. "Our line of work isn't exactly hazard-free. You know that. But I don't know if Astrid quite knows that." He held up his hand as a sign he was not finished yet when Hiccup opened his mouth to protest.

"Just make sure you have that conversation with her. There are stakes for you, being on the job, but there's also going to be something at stake for her if she's going to be in a relationship with you. You need to be aware of that, both of you."

Hiccup stayed silent for a few moments, staring into his mug.

Then he finally admitted, "You're right. I thought about that on our way back here, after the mission. There's no - I never know what could happen." He looked up at Gobber, and the older man was taken aback by his expression. Hiccup looked terrified.

"What if she isn't willing to take that risk? Realise that being with me is a risk?"

Gobber hesitated, but then put a hand on his shoulder, offering him a small smile. "With the way she looked when she was talking about you? Not a chance."

Finally, Hiccup smiled and took another sip of his tea. "Yeah," he murmured. "I hope you're right."

#ijas #it's just a spark #mine #hiccstrid #fluff #romance #hiccstrid fluff #httyd #httyd 2 #how to train your dragon #how to train your dragon 2

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 2 of 3)

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When you're done freshening up, dinner's already underway. The scent of vegetables and broth hits your nose, and the cold temperature left behind by the storm brings forth an additional hint as to what the monster's cooking up for dinner. You try to stay soundless as you sneak off to the kitchen and stand behind him, looking over his shoulder when you make it there.

"I can tell you're here, pal," Sans says, chuckling.

He turns to you with a spoon held out in his hand. There's a sample of soup on it, waiting to be tested. The scent reminds you of having missed lunch break due to the stormy weather, with the hours it lasted bringing forth your boss's decision to call the rest of your shift off. You were supposed to be at your last meeting by now, but the rain and wind had proven to be superior, canceling all plans. Less work meant less pay, though you try to refrain yourself from worrying too much about that right now. "Taste it." He offers it out to you, still waiting. You, on the other hand, take a while to do anything, overthinking the situation as you then debate on whether to grab the spoon or taste it right off his hand. The first option had the risk of you brushing hands with the monster and spilling the soup in the process, yet tasting it right off his hand was almost unthinkable to do.

Another thought pops into your mind, and that's whether it was fine to trust the skeleton by tasting the food and giving him the benefit of the doubt about it not being tampered with. Though you knew him for a few months now, it's still impossible not to acknowledge a possibility like that one. If a man you'd known for so many years had ended up leaving you, only to make a scene like yesterday's when trying to get back with you, who's to say a stranger with customs far different from yours wouldn't do something similar -- or worse?

You remind yourself of your main and original task: confronting him and the rest of the monsters over the choices they made back at the Underground, regardless of how charming and kind they were being with you currently. Sans was no less of an exception. This wasn't only for Frisk's safety and their overall state of well-being, but for your reputation as their parent -- and for your peace of mind, too.

You figure you've taken too long based on how the skeleton backs the spoon away.

His grin widens, and he then sips the contents off the spoon, leaving it empty. "I promise it ain't poisoned." He gives his back to you as he goes to wash the spoon, offering it to you after it's been cleaned. "You can taste it now." Sans moves aside, creating space for you to step forward and scoop a bit of the soup still bubbling in the pot.

Just as you're about to eat it though, he says, "I'm not the best cook around, so go ahead and lemme know if it tastes funny."

A smile forms on your face when you hear that, captivated by the idea of him having no clue how to begin cooking, and even more considering he was at your home instead of his. If it was often difficult for beginners to cook in the familiarity of their own home, you can't imagine how it must feel doing that at another person's place. For a moment, you wish you could've seen him in the process of cooking, an opportunity you'd lost while you went off to shower and change.

When you taste it, what's missing drops into your thoughts; years of having cooked at home reveal the capability of identifying that quickly. You consider the suggestion and confirm what the soup's lacking when you clean up the spoon and take a second sample off the pot. "It's good," you say, setting it aside. "Just needs a bit of salt and more time to stew. The rest is fine."

"Thanks," he replies, hands going back to his pockets. "Paps wants to improve his cooking, so I figured I've gotta better mine some more before I teach 'im anything."

Again, your mind finds itself in a conflict. While it's charmed by the thoughtfulness of that comment, it's also clouded by the morose reminder of why you'd asked him to stay for dinner in the first place. To distract yourself, you add the missing ingredient to the soup and walk with Sans to the couch while it finishes boiling.

It feels strange to sit so far apart from each other, but he doesn't close off the distance, nor do you.

You prop a leg over the other and rest a hand over your knee, bouncing the one on the floor when you lack anything more to say. Your thoughts scramble around as you try to find a way to make the situation less awkward. When you glance back at him, you see it's something he also seems to want to end; your gaze meets with his when you both decide to look at each other's side -- synchronizing.

He shifts closer and you do the same, continuing until your hands touch.

Almost immediately, you pull back, yet your gaze remains locked with his, eyes drifting down to his teeth. Even as he gets nearer, you stay put, lost in your thoughts and the risky scenario unfolding. Your brain and heart scream at you to stop; your body -- conversely -- refuses to move out of its current spot and rebels by inching closer to him, until you're near enough to catch the scent of the only soap brand you often bought for showering: soft-scented, cheap, and antibacterial. It's strange to catch that aroma from someone other than yourself. Frisk preferred using a different kind, making the situation much more intimate than you would like it to feel.

You grab his hand again as he leans into you, only stopping himself when your back presses against the armrest. Then, he pulls his hand back and uses both to hold your shoulders and corner you right into place. Height difference makes it so that his legs stay knelt on the couch while yours hang off it, these tucked aside as you focus on the matter at hand. He brings himself closer as he tries to level out your heights, grip on you staying. The sound of your heart and of the soup simmering by the kitchen are the only two other things to keep your mind occupied from what's happening; anticipation makes your breaths waver.

As if the situation couldn't get tense enough, the door of the living room opens and in barge two people, leaving you in an iced state.

Rather than Frisk and Toriel, it's Frisk and Jerry who stand at the frame, one casting a look of betrayal at the monster while the other scrutinizes the scene. You try standing up, yet the monster's hands hold you back, body held up over yours -- still cornered. His face reveals nothing but conflict, an expression similar to your state of mind regarding how freely to act with him.

Jerry leaves without a word and shuts the door too slow for it to even click. Frisk does the rest of the job for him by locking it, checking it again, and saying nothing themselves as they look at you in the eye and sign, "Can we talk later, ren?"

Still in a tough position, you nod once, lacking strength or words to say anything out loud.

Sans doesn't move even as Frisk disappears into the hallway.

You see his irises falter when you look at him; his gaze isn't fully there. A few drops of sweat are present on his forehead, and you can feel his hands grow colder with each second. "...Are you okay, Sans?" you ask, voice faint. "I, um... I think the soup should be ready now."

You hope that's enough to snap him out of it, only to have that contradicted when his hold on you stays. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he mutters, huffing, "I failed you."

Sans moves back while you sit up straight; silence returns. He stands up and goes to turn off the stove, all done within more time than you would expect as he chooses to stay there a few more minutes, staring aimlessly at the kitchen's wares. You rest your hands on your knees, and you wait to see what he does next. There's not much you can do now that you were caught in a moment like that one, and there's no time to beat yourself up over it, either. All you can do's admit your blame where it best seemed fit, and that was in letting your inner voice act before you. You'd given it your strongest efforts to wait until your first year of college to date Jerry, only to then wait until you had a stabler job by your second semester to actually do anything more serious with him, and later waited six more years alone, watching as Frisk grew up in your care for most of the time, only to let your wants show through now of all times.

Excuse through excuse -- be it valid or not -- you'd restricted yourself at every moment you saw possible.

All that, and yet it still felt as if you hadn't done enough.

You wanted to be stronger.

"Frisk told me 'bout your situation," Sans says, distracting you from your thoughts. "Not whatever happened with Jerry, but the way you see monsters, and well… me, in general." He turns away from the kitchen and sits back down on the couch, looking directly at you, though for wholly different reasons than earlier ago. His hand stays over yours, more comforting than sultry. Were you to know him for any longer, you would've assumed he's holding his soul on his sleeve, yet you remind yourself he's still a stranger. "Maybe this's my habits showin' up, but if I were to judge you based on what they told me, I'd say you're labeling yourself as the bad guy." His fingers intersect with yours, squeezing your palm. "Of all the things I've gotten to learn about you, this's one of the least you should be blamin' yourself for. If anything, you're not exactly the only one responsible for all that's been happenin' right now."

Your breaths grow tighter the longer you keep listening to him. Your heart's racing again, yet it's not the same as before. The monster lets your hand go, continuing with, "I can't tell you just how different we are from each other, and how much I wish I had a fraction the amount of willpower you and your kid have." He sighs; a hint of a smile shows despite the furrow in his gaze. "You've got some things right about me, and one of 'em's havin' chosen to act too late. Being unable to be there for those I care about, more specifically." His nose cavity flares as he lets out a stifled laugh, remorse showing in spite of his best efforts not to let that happen. "I hate who I used to be, and even now, I still feel like I could've done more. I wanna try harder, but I don't have a clue on where to start with that."

Sans tries to stand up, yet fails to. He heaves out a breath as he closes his eye sockets and surrenders himself back on the couch; he rests his elbow over the armrest and lets his chin rest on his hand. After that, he looks back to your side, an apologetic gaze showing as his grin widens and his crease deepens, the way his monster anatomy worked allowing him to further display similar movements to that of a human narrowing their gaze. "Keep taking credit where it's due, (Y/N). And when you've got somethin' you want to improve, try your best to overcome it." He pauses, and the crease in his gaze lessens as he casts a fonder look at you. "Not that you ain't tryin' already. But you're still takin' up too much of the blame, and not realizing when you can be free. It doesn't have to be with me -- or anybody else, for that matter -- but try to live life a lil' more. Don't just dwell on the past and restrain yourself from stuff you want to achieve for yourself. You should live for you, just as you're tryna live for others."

He closes his eye sockets and brings a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead until he lets out a hushed sigh. Then, he opens them and straightens up on his seat, hands resting on his lap. There's a brief pause, broken when he breathes in again, saying, "...So a skeleton and a single parent walk into a bar," he takes another stop, continuing with, "One bares their skin to the bartender, earnest down to the bone," his breath hitches, yet he composes himself quickly, "the other sits back, looks into the past, and then wonders why he's feelin' so lonely."

He huffs and ends it all with a chuckle and an attempt at covering his face away from your sight. You stop him with the brush of a hand, taking his cheekbone when he turns to you. His body's shaking and a few tears escape his sockets, these he tries to wipe with his free hand, only for you to hold him back by doing that yourself. Caught in the moment, you kiss one of them away, the expectance of a salty taste proven wrong as you receive a hint of sweetness instead -- reflecting the memory of your day with him at the pâtisserie. His shoulders shake as he chokes back a sob, breaking down. His hands grab your back, bringing you in for a hug as he seeks more comfort. In that embrace, you can feel how his rib cage rises and falls at quick intervals, slowing down when you hug him back and wait until he breaks it apart.

The wait's as long as you expect it for someone in his state; the weight of his breaths diminish as he calms down and lets you go.

"Sorry about that," he comments, chuckling. "Wasn't really myself for a moment there, huh?"

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#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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weirdfanaus · 3 years

Text

The Path that Leads Home

Summary: Azriel, on a mission in Day Court, finds himself in a moment of weakness, but somehow he finds his way back home with a life-changing dream in mind.

Rating: Mature

Words: 3347

Pairing: Azriel (ACoTaR) and Original Character

Author’s Note: All characters except the original one are from A Court of Thorns and Roses. The original one was created by a friend and she allowed me to use her in this story. You can find her under @majolishdustybooks .

No spoilers for A Court of Silver Flames

Also on Ao3

Azriel didn't know what to do.

He had always known what was going on, but now he was lost.

He was in the middle of nowhere, had muddy attire, no trace of the target he was chasing and a mood at its lowest.

He sat down on a stump and felt how his syphons hummed in agreement; they needed a break too. He sighed, combing his hair with his fingers and angled his head towards the warm light.

The sun shone and through the dome of leaves, its rays got to his tanned and tired face.

And the only thing he wanted was to sleep.

Azriel and his spies had been chasing his target for more than three months. And when they found that they had been hiding in a forest over the border with the Day Court, he didn't care who was supposed to take care of them. Thus, he winnowed near the frontier and used his connections and knowledge about that court to pass it as silently as possible.

But the mission after passing it… was not as easy as it was supposed to be.

The Day Court had always meant something else for the Spymaster. He was feeling closer to home, calmer and even younger. His instincts were different than usual and his lazy syphons, having a mind of their own too, were enjoying their time in the court of light more than they should.

He was sitting against another tree, half of the front of his leathers open due to the heat and was trying to find the will to fight the sleep that was slowly conquering his whole body.

A voice broke the silence of the forest, the birds stopped singing and the Illyrian opened an eye and looked at at the owner of the voice:

"Wow! The Night Court's Spymaster sleeping? During daylight? I've lived to see this day! I thought that you, bats, slept only during the night. Is the Night Court no longer good for you, old man? Decided that you preferred the sun over the moon and the stars?"

His siphons suddenly woke up.

"Nice to see you're alive too, Cyra," he replied with a tougher voice, sleep already clouding his body.

"Darn! You really must like me, if you are still half asleep right now."

If it were autumn, her proximity would've been alerted by the fallen leaves. But because they were still enjoying the calm weather and longer days, the summer gave Azriel the lisp of the leaves’ help.

"One of our guards caught Edgard trying to break into the main building." That sentence was a wake-up call for the Spymaster and when he stood up, back in the middle of the clearing, he noted how close he was to the female.

The silence was familiar. He didn’t like to talk too much when it wasn’t needed, but her presence demanded it and his heart and mind was happy to oblige.

And that's why, even though it was not needed, Azriel's right corner of the lip rose and a "Hi" broke the silence.

Cyra's hazel eyes sparkled at his tone and, because of the light, they became greener. Her lips curved in a smile too, while saying: "Hello, Azriel. Nice to see you alive and well. Heard you made new friends."

The male shrugged and stretched his wings lazily, while the female was assessing him, looking judgely. He knew that his wings were something meaningful to her, not only because they were his, but also because of her Illyrian heritage. His wings, scarred and darker than wet tree branches, connected her to her mother, whose wings brought the late female more pain than freedom.

“Can we go to where you hold him? I need to winnow him to the Court of Nightmares and get him to talk.” Cyra was somehow caught by surprise by his voice, but she shook it off fast.

“Yeah, he is kind of asleep now. You hit him hard.” Her voice was calmer, her body more relaxed than usual, not as guarded as she was the first time he met her. Back when she was cold, young and with strands of brown hair flying in the bitter winds of the Winter Court’s mountains, possessing a look in her eyes that would’ve killed him right there.

“It’s of no surprise that you look like you got hit by a volley of arrows. Yeah, minus the blood. That’s all mud and probably… poop.” her hands moved with such speed, while she spoke, that only by looking at them, he felt more tired than before.

“Cyra… I know I look like actual shit, but can we not talk about my attire right now? I would prefer to sleep, I haven’t slept five hours continuously for days and I think that I might pass out.” He stepped towards her in a manner very unlike him and Cyra’s face turned into an open book, worry filling its pages.

“You smell…” was her reply when she caught him right before he could fall. It was a sure thing that she was thinking whether she had a dead man in her arms or not, but his head moved against her hair, white strands finding their way through his dark locks and some even reaching in his mouth. He tried to get rid of them without using his hands, but when he realized there had been no progress made, he tried to use his hands, but the female moved faster than him. “And still act as a baby.” Azriel’s face was empty of any sign of emotion.

One moment they were in the middle of a clearing, in the forest, under the sun and the other they were in the middle of a living room. Warm colours, browns and a lot of white surrounded them then.

He would never get used to the great number of plants in that house. Even though in the years he had known her and they had started to get closer to each other, his house back in Velaris was almost as crowded as the one he was in. Stalks, leaves and flower petals covering almost every surface.

He asked her once, while she was bringing yet another potted plant into his apartment, back in Velaris: “Why are you so keen on growing a forest inside my apartment?”

Cyra just shrugged and while he waited for the more elaborated answer, which was coming, he watched how she played with one of the white hair strands that were framing her face, the rest of it was kept together with a clip.

"More oxygen won't hurt you."

"Yeah, but when there is no light outside, they use my oxygen. So…?"

She made an annoyed face then and raised a finger in his direction. "You are already dark and broody, why not brighten the place a little bit?"

"I get that you don't like my colour preference, even though we are in the Night Court, sweetheart. You didn't have to fill this place that much that I don't have any place to even stand. And it's my apartment!"

The female shrugged, pissed off by his statement. She bit her lip and looked at the plant she was still holding.

"Plants show us that even after weeks of cold weather, there is still a moment when the sun will come and we will have our moment to be reborn. They bring us all joy. I thought you needed some joy in your life, Az."

He had always known, deep down, that happiness would come at some point, even though for much time he had lived in darkness, hurting.

Cyra, with her bright hair and hazel eyes, sometimes even the colour of the plants she loved and cherished, was like the light at the end of the tunnel for him. She brought him joy, freedom and he felt like light, weightless, although he was always in the shadows.

And then, in the Day Court, surrounded by plants and flowers and vegetables, he was home.

But he was still unsure what to do next.

The female started walking around the room, moving blankets on the sofa, opening cabinets and pulling out packages, cans, jars, utensils and plates.

The water was boiling on the stove when he finally decided to talk.

"I should've gone to sort the problem with Edgard."

"Don't worry about him, he will be there after you take a shower and have something to eat. We need to catch up. It's been a while. I want to know everything about your brand new High Lady." Cyra didn't raise her eyes from the cutting board, where vegetables started gathering. But her tone showed that she was in the mood to gossip.

"I heard she likes soup." She rose her eyes to him and cleaned the tomato juice off one of her fingers.

Azriel chuckled at that.

There was a joke between the Inner Circle, about how Feyre gave Rhys canned soup when they sealed the mating bond. And Azriel knew that there was no way, the Spymaster of the Day Court would not find out about it.

She lived off tormenting his friends, usually the males.

"Can I at least have a bite… small bite… from what you have decided to cook?" He tried, but he was very aware that he was full of mud, probably smelled of deer poop and looked like he had got run over by dozens of wild horses. He knew Cyra very well and her eyes told him that he needed to get cleaned as soon as possible and there was nothing else to discuss.

He puffed, sad that he had lost that ‘battle’ and aimed for the bathroom.

The bathroom was the same as he had seen it last. Toiletries spread out on the counter by the sink: toothbrushes, razors and different kinds of soaps, each specially created for certain use.

He swiftly undressed himself and lowered in the already filled magical pool. The water was always warm and his muscles sighed in approval for the moment of peace. The last week had been filled with the smell of grass, branches and flowers. Their pollen sometimes disturbing his senses, a problem, which was once a disadvantage but had been redeemed by knowing the woman in the other room. After all, he basically had a garden in his house back in Velaris.

He rubbed all the mud off and when he decided that he had spent enough time in the bathroom, he got out. And with a towel around his waist, he walked into the bedroom linked to the bathroom.

Sunlight bathed the room and the plants were sprawling towards it. On the bed placed against the wall, right in the middle of the room, sat a pile of clean clothes, black pants and underwear and a white short-sleeved shirt, which he put on.

Back in the kitchen, the female, now with her long white hair bound, was mixing something in a bowl, the water in the pot boiling behind her. He reached it and the smell it emanated was a sign that its contents were done. Opening cabinets with familiarity, Azriel strained the vegetables and dumped them in an empty, clean bowl, placing it on the counter. He seasoned them and watched Cyra take a tray with meat out of the oven.

"Take a plate and pick your favourite." She said, tray in one hand and a fork in the other, gesturing towards a cupboard where he knew she held plates.

Minutes later, the two of them sat at a table by the window, plates before them, glasses filled with lemon water. The sun was covering everything on the table, the flowers in the vase spreading their petals in approval.

Everything in that house loved the sunlight. He preferred it over the darkness of his past and shadows.

"I've heard that Rhysand got a mate." Cyra, even though she wasn't a fan of talking, was the one that usually started a conversation between the two of them.

And this conversation wasn't something he felt like doing after the week he had just had.

"Yeah, he did," was what left his lips as he chose to pick at his vegetables and steak instead of looking at her.

"When?" she stopped eating altogether, now sitting in the chair in a way that favoured conversation.

"When what?"

"When did the mating bond go… boof." she moved her arms as if she had just finished a magic trick.

"I don't know… maybe around the annual snow fight? We were in the Steppes when Feyre found out that Rhys kept the fact that they were mates from her. “

“So, she is what… angry at him, takes some time off from all of you and they sort it out?”

She jumped in, making her usual assumptions, and Azriel just nodded his head in approval. “And they do the whole cook a meal thing and stuff like that.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“What do you mean by ‘something’?” she looked at him confused.

“Cans.” the word made her burst into pure laughter. She moved her hands and was almost going to spoil a glass’ components on the table, but Azriel caught it just in time.

When she calmed a little, she wiped some tears from her eyes while saying: “If Cassian gets the same treatment, I swear to the Cauldron that the three of you are destined to have mates that know nothing of the culinary arts.”

Azriel just puffed at her statement, which made Cyra shrug and plaster a small smile on her slightly tanned skin.

“She will learn…” he said hopefully, but Cyra just continued to look at him, smiling.

“It’s not like she will starve by not knowing” They looked at each other longly, thinking about a night around 200 years ago in a cabin in summer court, during a horrendous storm and a bag of potatoes.

“At least I knew how to mash potatoes,” she added a second after while grabbing another bite from her serving.

Her words, her tone and her actions right after she said that, made Azriel burst into a laughter of his own. He didn’t stop for a while, thinking of the awkwardness that went on between the two of them that night. Possibly thinking about that she started laughing too.

Still laughing, she collected the dishes off the table when they were finished, his plate almost empty, except for some leaves she used for seasoning.

“How’s Cas?” she asked while cleaning the dishes. Azriel walked around the counter, right from the dining area and propped himself against the now clean marble.

“In the Illyrian Mountains. He is trying to help Feyre's older sister figure life as Fae out.” he said while crossing his arms.

“Oh… is he all right? After what happened during that last battle…”

“It’s been a rough period of time for all of us. And I also know that I should’ve come by sooner…”

“I knew that you were alive. I could feel that you were also well, as much as somebody can be after a war… That’s what mattered,” she told him while drying her hands with a cloth. They looked at each other for seconds that felt more like hours. The silence was familiar, calm and it assured both of them that there was still time left, it wasn't running out, just yet.

“I think…”

“We should…”

They started talking at the same time. And sharing a mind connection had never been weirder and more useless before. But they held their minds from each other most of the time and that path that connected them was used in the most important situations.

And that was one of the reasons why they were that day together, because, in his state, Azriel used that connection to call for help. Help that he knew would come unconditionally.

They had decided decades ago that for this eternity to not be a burden, they needed their space. Also, the secrets of their Courts were bigger than them and they needed to be kept safe.

But the last war woke up something in him. Something that he had known since he had first met her during that mission in the Winter Court.

“You say first.” As she could feel the fight that went on inside his head, she broke the silence. Cyra looked off guard, something that he wasn’t used to, but he had seen before.

His hands were sweating, he was nervous and he didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like that was the first time they shared their hopes, dreams and insecurities with each other.

They were mates.

“I think… I think that we should try to have a baby.” He said. His voice small, eyes partially filled with fear, scared of rejection. He didn’t expect her to be always on the same page as him.

But Cyra didn’t look as angry as he had expected. She played with her fingers, one holding her wedding ring with a blue stone, the same colour as his siphons, which shone in the midday sun. And when she raised her eyes, hazel mixed with silver, she just nodded.

"I think so too."

And his whole world became even brighter than before.

He hugged her and kissed her whole smiling face, forehead, cheeks, nose, eyelids and lastly her lips a couple of times.

Their last kiss was longer than the previous ones, minds open to each other, secrets still hidden in the darkest depths of them, but happiness was buzzing between them.

Their foreheads were together when Cyra opened her eyes to look at him. He could feel her eyes on his face, his olive skin, the scars on his brows and cheeks, the circles under his eyes, but also the wrinkles created by the smile still present.

He started kissing her skin again, but this time his lips took a different path. Her throat was covered by his warm, chapped lips and in their trail, the skin was left wet and sometimes red, from sucking. She brought her arms closer to his neck, fingers running through his dark locks.

Small sounds were leaving her full lips when Azriel’s hands gripped her thighs and she was lifted off the floor and carried to the bedroom.

The sound of a closed door was followed by the rustling of clothes. Laughter filled the air again when the Illyrian stuck his shirt in a talon of his wings, but she helped and they kissed again.

The world seemed to be suddenly set on the right path when they finally joined. His kisses covered the inked skin of her chest, their marriage tattoo set right over each of their hearts. And with each step they took in their dance, they got closer and closer to the end.

Her legs hugged his waist, her arms, his neck, hands massaging his scalp, his elbows on the mattress, one hand at her nape, the other keeping him from crushing her, lips glued and their hearts were over the other, skin on skin, tattoo over tattoo. His hand searched blindly for hers when he felt that they were close to the climax, his movements speeding up. When their fingers laced through each other on the bed, the moment came.

Ragged breaths replaced the sounds of pleasure and their foreheads were once more against the other, bodies still joined and coming down from the high.

“I love you.” Her hoarse breath broke the silence. Her hand covered his cheek, trying to wipe some sweat off of his face. In a movement so similar to a cat’s, Azriel nuzzled his nose, face and hair against her damp face and placed his head in the crook of her neck, kissed the pulse point and hugged her body even more. She replied to his action by moving her hips higher and squeezed his middle. He muffled a swore in her now wild hair.

I love you too. Filled her head and a smile crept on her lips.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #acotar #acofas #weirdfanaus

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crazy4myself · 4 years

Text

No Harm List Pt.3

Word Count: 12.8K

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

Warnings: Violence, explicit language, angst, brief mentions of cannibalism and human trafficking (like literally just the words are used zero detail),

A/n: Sorry theres no gif or banner! I’m loosing the battle of bandwidth in my house and my computer can’t load any images on such a large post. :( On the bright side Jungkook says: women's rights :D

Jimin sighed as he received the text from Jin asking him to bring a dessert to the impromptu family dinner tonight.

It was his only day off this week and he really wanted to go the full day without getting flour in his hair. He glanced at his clock in disappointment seeing he napped and lazed most of his day away, and decided he would just pick up a box of pastries from Sugar Daddy instead of making something himself.

Dragging himself out of bed, he pulled on a dark pair of jeans and a pale blue button-up that was only slightly rumpled. He had a little time to kill before he needed to leave, so Jimin wandered out to the front of the house to see if Taehyung was home. He wasn’t, but the sight of the still-warm bowl of ramen on the breakfast bar hinted that he may not have left too long ago. He sighed as he dumped the bowl in the sink and started the dishes. His roommate wasn’t inherently messy, neither of them was.

Their apartment was never spotless, but it was clean and comfortable lived in, and that’s how Jimin preferred it.

But since Tae’s promotion as one of Namjoon’s spiders a few months back Jimin found himself picking up after him a bit more since Tae was always being called out of the house at obscure times. Jimin told Teahyung he needed to set boundaries and be willing to tell their leader no on the occasion, he would understand, but Tae was in love with the task. The boy was enthralled with adopting a new persona and sweet-talking information out of unsuspecting targets. He loved being someone else and living a different life for a short time.

Taehyung was an expert at stealth, but he didn’t need it when he could become whoever he wanted in a blink of an eye.

No Taehyung didn’t like to hide in the shadows like the other spiders in Alcor who acted more like flies on the wall, he liked to look his victim in the eye and unravel their secrets with his charm. A true spider trapping his prey in a web before he feeds.

It worried Jimin to no end, he still didn’t know if he preferred him in the dangers of the streets pushing pills, or in the dens of the most dangerous and powerful people in the city risking getting caught in his own web of lies.

Jimin liked to play it safe. He works off most of his debt to Namjoon through working at Sugar Daddy, the bakery Jin opened two years ago. There he maintains a regular job and provides his more specialized services in the back. His other work for BTS kept him off the frontlines less than Taehyung or any of the members really. It was rare for Namjoon to have jobs or missions that called for his skillset, so he was occasionally recruited to a job that requires more numbers and brute force.

Jimin wasn’t a bad fighter or a bad shot by any means; he just didn’t like the violence and preferred taking care of his enemies from a distance instead of risking the lives of the people he loved to put them on the front line. His affinity for chemistry made that possible.

Jimin finished washing the dishes, drying a handful before placing the rest on the drying rack before slipping on his boots and heading downtown. The bakery was within walking distance of his house, and he didn’t feel like dealing with parking, so he opted to leave his car and make the walk to the Den.

He passed through the familiar storefront of Sugar Daddy skipping the long line and heading directly for the back where he gathered an assortment of fruit tarts and small pies into 2 boxes, silently daring Jin and Namjoon to add the expense to his tab before making his way to the Den.

Sugar Daddy’s was on the corner of a growingly popular part of the 7th Ward, the growing storefronts down 28th street (most of which were funded by BTS) filled the air with the power of local business, the vintage buildings paired with their modern interiors was making the area grow into a more Hipster part of town. Which in turn was good for business as more university students began making the commute from campus to buy overpriced artisan soap wrapped in burlap.

A few blocks from the bakery Jimin turned into one of the nicer neighborhoods in the 7th Ward, the grass appeared more vibrant, and the houses grew in size as he made his way down the road until coming to a stop in front of a large Art Deco style house at the end of Gardenia Circle.

The three-story house had two wings and looked far too grand for the street rats that occupied it. The property was one of the family properties Jin inherited from his Uncle when he passed, one of the few relatives that still kept in contact with him. Jin and Namjoon both wanted to sell it feeling it was far too grand for any of BTS’s needs, but Yoongi convinced them to keep it, the property was already paid for they just had to pay the maintenance bills, and the gang was growing exponentially at the time, so it wasn’t unreasonable to believe the gang would grow into it.

The Den has had many forms, but the same concept over the near-decade BTS has been around.

When BTS first formed Namjoon believed in the philosophy that every member of BTS would have somewhere warm to stay each night. The promise that was made when members joined and took the Tattoo was they would always have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs as long as they stayed loyal.

If they ever recruited someone who was in a tough spot they were welcome to stay at the Den while they get back on their feet. It also acted as a safe house for people who might have had their cover blown during jobs and needed somewhere to lay low (although BTS had actual safehouses now, keeping a member with a warrant for their arrest in the same place as their leader was not ideal).

Once the inner circle expanded, the rooms have slowly morphed into ones the members use regularly between jobs or the younger members like Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook lived in and were raised by their crime lord dads. Once the Den was upgraded for the first time it was done so with the intention that each member of the inner circle would have their own room to stay in. Despite having their own apartments by then It was just nice to be together and always have that option. It was also becoming too high a risk to welcome just anyone into the Den.

The second Den was compromised and raided by a rival gang who infiltrated them two years back, Namjoon was still recovering from the betrayal, and the Den was forced to relocate. That's what brought BTS to Gardenia Circle.

BTS has made too many enemies nowadays to trust so easily. But with that growing list comes a growing number of resources at their disposal now. People who need somewhere to hide out after a tough job can easily get a room on the 7th floor of the Bulletproof. A floor where rooms were always reserved for the gang members. They also had a number of safe houses and small apartments at their disposal throughout the city. They even had one on the top floor of the bakery where Jimin worked, although Jimin often used it for other overnight adventures…

Their new home had a security gate and was also decked out in surveillance camera, that Suga or one of his minions were constantly monitoring, They even had two guys running security constantly to keep the Den safe. The large building did not just act as a home to the inner circle, but also a number of resources and savings BTS use for everyday business to keep the gang running.

Despite its larger size the Den still managed to feel homey under Jin’s watch. The interior was completely modernized at this point. Jin and Yoongi saw to its transformation over the years. Taking out nearly all the interior walls that divided the public spaces of the first floor of the house so that the living room, kitchen, and dining room were a seamless area for BTS to be together. Down the hall from the living room lead to the ‘man cave’ area of the house that was best suited for drinking and gaming as well as a door to the garage.The only other doors on the first floor lead to the bathroom and the East wing of the house.

In the west wing there were enough bedrooms for each of the seven members of the inner circle and any unexpected guest. Although Namjoon, Jin, Yoongi, and Jungkook were the only ones who solely resided at the house. The West Wing also held the gym and training area where the guys kept up with their fighting skills. Hoseok once pushed for an onsite shooting range to practice at, but Namjoon insisted on using the facility downtown, claiming it would be too noisy for him to properly get peace and quiet.

The East wing was closed off from the rest of the house and was used strictly for business, Namjoon and Jin studies, and the conference rooms where BTS met with trusted clients. The top floor of the wing was where Yoongi and most of his surveillance crew reported for work.

Upon entering the house Jimin's nose was immediately hit with a flood of spices and savory smells. Jin was in the kitchen stirring at a pan of caramelizing onions. Jimin greeted him and set the pastries on the breakfast bar hands immediately flying to his pockets to check his phone and wallet were still there. It was Alcorn after all where you either rob or get robbed.

“Dinner will be ready in ten,” Jin said in greeting before turning to peek into the box.

“Did you buy these?” he asked, confused.

“They’re from yesterday, couldn’t put them out on the floor,” Jimin lied as he headed for the couch where Jungkook was working on his homework.

“Did you have a good day at school?” he teased ruffling the younger's hair. Jimin still didn’t quite understand how Jungkook could choose to go back into debt with Namjoon in order to go to college, the kid had the chance to cut his ties and walk away before he even graduated high school, taking every job they came across and paying off his bail and any major living cost he accumulated since Namjoon took him in. The boy was brilliant and talented and while like Jimin BTS was the only family Jungkook will have he still wished to see the boy walk away from the life sentence that comes with taking the tattoo when he had the chance.

“Hyung,” he whined slightly before turning to look at him, “stop, I'm not a kid,” he said betting his hands away.

Jimin smiled giving Jungkook a look that said he believed the exact opposite before huffing a laugh, “I guess you aren’t, so what's the verdict on your punishment?” he asked as he reclined on the couch, “Did you get grounded?” he asked with a taunt and Jimin groaned.

“I have to help open the bakery for the next week, and help train the next round of recruits” he grumbled.

Jimin laughed, “You love teaching the newbs how to fight,”

“Yeah but not on Saturday mornings,”

“You also have to do inventory in the warehouse next month,” Namjoon reminded as he came down the stairs,

“Owch inventory, your heartless Joonie” Jimin said with a taunting smile as he got up to help Jin set the table. Jungkook followed wordlessly grabbing seven glasses from the cabinet.

“Well it would be one thing to go prance around the 9th ward like he owns the place, it’s another to sell to a client that’s been blacklisted since before you joined,” Namjoon said with a glare.

“You tried to sell to Sylvia?” Jimin asked in shock. He remembered Jungkook mentioning the idea to him about a month ago, but Jimin thought he finally let it go when Namjoon shut him down.

“He was willing to pay twice what we were selling for,” Jungkook defended.

“The dude’s a cannibal!” Jimin all but shouted in disbelief “And a rapist, and I'm pretty sure he abuses animals” he listed as an afterthought. Sylvia was one of the many monsters in the 9th ward, known for trafficking exotic animals many go there to buy snakes, peacocks, big cats, or what other kinds of odd pet you would need. But he was also known for collecting men and women as well, and the ones he didn’t sell he indulged in himself in a multitude of ways.

“Everyone in Alcorn is terrible, and he was just buying a sedative for whatever shipment of cats he has coming in to keep his employees from getting hurt,” Jungkook said in weak defense

“Yeah but he-”

“Enough talk,” Namjoon said, cutting Jimin off before he could further elaborate on how there was a special place in hell for guys like Sylvia. Namjoon lowered his voice as he watched Teahyung and Yoongi come into the house followed by Hoseok, “you tried to deal with someone on the blacklist, you violated major protocol and almost got killed in the process, you're on probation. But we don’t need the entire gang to know about the mishap, got it.” sending a pointed look to both Jungkook and Jimin.

“Got it,” they both responded and Jungkook had the decency to look a little guilty as Taehyung came into the room.

Quickly the room filled with mindless chatter as the guys all greeted each other before fixing their plates and taking a seat at the round marble dining table.

“So why the emergency meeting, “ Jimin asked bluntly, breaking the silence that overtook the room the moment they got Jin’s cooking in their mouths.

Namjoon looked up at him irritably, “I was going to wait until we finished eating to talk to business,”

“It’s rude to leave people in suspense like that besides were good at multitasking,” Jimin countered with a bratty smile as he stuck his fork in his mouth

“Well I actually have a few interesting jobs that came up over the weekend. I also,” Namjoon sighed as he gathered his thoughts, “wanted to talk about the terms of the newest addition to the No Harm List,”

“What do you mean the terms?” Jungkook asked breaking the short silence that fell over the table, “I figured we just protect her like we do everyone else,”

“Everyone else is two people, Jungkook.” Namjoon “And this is different Lena and Dax are old and keep to themselves. Their livelihood is in that diner by campus. We have them employ a member or two from BTS and they’re set and safe. Your girl is all over the place,” he explained Jungkook didn’t know if he liked or hated the pointed term.

“Whoa whoa hold up, your girl?” Hoseok asked, confused. He heard JK ran into some trouble over the weekend, but he didn’t realize it was bad enough to mean whoever got involved to be added to the No Harm List. “Can someone please catch me up on what’s going on?” He asked as he took in the brace on the younger's arm and healed his black eye.

“Kook decided to go through a stroll down the 9th Ward alone last week, some Black Tips snuck up on him and got the best of him, He was so desperate some college girl had to intervene and save his ass,” Suga grumbled with a teasing smirk.

“Ya know I’m getting real tired of these implications,” Jungkook scoffed, letting his fork fall to his plate with a rattled. “I messed up big time and someone had to help me. That’s my bad, and I’m really ashamed of it. I’m not ashamed of the fact that the person that saved me was a woman, but I’m sure as hell tired of you ass holes acting as I should be.”

Jin beamed proudly at the younger, “You're absolutely right Jungkookie. She’s a hero, and it’s wrong of us to imply otherwise” Jin said, sending a small glare at Yoongi and Namjoon who looked down at their plates, “But her being a woman does complicate things a little more. In a city like this it makes her all the more vulnerable, and even more important we try our best to keep her safe from threats we normally wouldn’t think about. It's important we talk about those things.”

Meanwhile, Hoseok paled as he made the connection between y/n and Jungkook. Jungkook looked at Jin sheepishly and as Hobi took his younger in he saw it, Bambi. Hoseok clenched his jaw and looked over and Jin across the table, who was not meeting his eyes. Jin was the only member who really knew who y/n was staying with him that summer and who y/n was to him. It was Jin’s job to know everything, he had to have connected the dots beforehand and didn’t give Hobi any kind of warning.

“What's there to discuss,” he said roughly, his voice low drawing all eyes his way.

Namjoon hesitated feeling the change in the mood. Hoseok was like a ray of sunshine, so when he was upset you could feel the temperature drop. He shifted in his seat before he spoke confirming Hoseok's suspicion that he too knew who ‘Cinderella’ was

“We need to decide exactly how many resources are we going to expand on her, how involved in her life do we want to get to keep her safe?”

“What do you mean how involved? Isn’t the whole point of this to keep her safe from a distance, were not about to initiate her,” Hoseok snapped.

“There's a bit of a compromising matter,” Suga mumbled all eyes shifted to him, “Y/n was wearing her work polo when she intervened, the Black Tips know where she works, and it doesn't take much to trail her after her shift the idiot walks home from work each night”

“Watch it” both Jungkook and Hoseok snapped in usion looking at each other a little shocked.

Suga continues unphased, “The safest thing to do for this girl is get her fired from her job, but we don’t know her. Jin pulled that she's a college senior. So maybe she's about to get a job, but we have no clue if getting her fired is just going to put her out on the street and in even more danger.”

“She’s going to grad school, she needs that job.” Hoseok blurted

Jungkook looked at him, “You know her?”

“She’s a family friend. She's going to med school and she's going to get out of the west side as soon as she finishes school. She's not getting involved with BTS, it will only hold her back” he grumbled

Everyone stiffed at the unspoken words ‘like BTS holds him back’ Hobi had a chance to get out the west side before his sister died. He even had plans to have his tattoo removed after his sister graduated college. He wanted a better life for both of them.

“So we get her a new job?” Tae offered with a shrug.

“She doesn’t owe us a debt, we can’t just hire her somewhere, we have a system,” Namjoon started.

“You're right, but we do have a debt to her” Jungkook started leaning forward. “Think about it, she compromised the safety of her employment to save me, we offer her new employment. It’s an exchange. Hobi said she's going to be a doctor, she’ll quit the job when she doesn't need it, that can be our way of ensuring her safety while she stays on the Westside. It would be way easier to keep up with her routines. Not to mention if she works in our territory we know no will touch her,” he said proudly with a smile.

Namjoon couldn’t help but smile as well. That business minor may pay off after all.

“The bakery does need a new set of hands since we moved Monica to the new club,” Jimin offered

“Y/n’s next shift is tomorrow, we either get this taken care of before then, or we need someone to be at the store before she goes in incase they’re waiting there to gang up on her,” Hoseok informed

“I can have her boss do it tonight” Yoongi offered taking out his phone,

“Whoa whoa whoa you can't just-” Hobi struggled “How do we get her to work at the bakery”

“Tell her to apply,” Jin said simply

Hobi’s head was near spinning; this was happening too fast. You were too close to the part of his world that he never wanted you to touch. She was going to work at a BTS business, probably befriending Jin and Jimin in the process. Hobi looked at Jimin quickly, the womanizer already smiling at the thought of his cute new co-worker. “You don’t touch her,” he warned.

“She's off-limits to all of you, got it” he pointed his stare at JK who slumped in his chair.

After a few orders of business involving a promising job for Hoseok to take on in the next month, and a round of dessert, Namjoon announced the meeting adjourned, the guys immediately wondered their way to the living room to start a round of video games, an unspoken tradition. “Hobi you want in this round?” Taehyung asked by holding up a controller.

“Nah, I'm going to pass tonight. I have some stuff to do.”

Taehyung shook his head solemnly as if he understood the weight in Hoseok's chest, and he might for all Hoseok knew he felt like the kid was capable of reading minds, before plopping on the couch between Jimin and Suga. Jungkook and Jin were in the kitchen washing up. Namjoon must have already retreated to his study, he’s been slammed since the opening of the club. Hoseok wished the other guys a quick goodnight before heading out. Hoseok made one stop by a nearby Deli picking up a large order of kimchi cheese fries and a 6 pack of apple cider beer before heading straight for your apartment.

You were only mildly surprised when Hoseok showed up unannounced. You told him you had the evening off and that was basically an invitation for him to come over. You were already dressed down in a pair of black sweatpants and a white tank top, your hair in a messy knot atop your head, your bangs pushed out of your face with your glasses frames even though the oils from your hair always streak the lenses.

“I’m not going out tonight,” you answer with your arms crossed, taking the way he was still dressed like a respectable human.

“Good, because I was hoping for a night in,” he said as he held up his offering. Your eyes lit up at the sight of the familiar grocery bag and you assured him in.

“You spoil me,” You said as you walked into your kitchen to grab two forks. Hobi slipped off his shoes before letting himself in the living room to get comfortable. He set the food down on the coffee table, noting that it was already littered with your laptop and a textbook. You must have been studying, you never did stop really. “Your sweats and stuff are in my bedroom in you wanna get comfy,” you offered as you sat cross-legged on the couch. “I’m fine I don’t want to keep you up too late,” he sighed as he unbuttoned his shirt a few notches to better relax.

“Anything good on?” he asked nodding towards the TV that was playing some mindless home improvement channel.

“The Bachelor comes on in 10 minutes, can we make fun of them?” you offered with a smile.

This was your routine watching shitty TV and movies and making fun of it together. Other than marvel movies it was hard for the two of you to watch anything serious because you both talk over everything on the screen. Except for that one time you put on Vampire Diaries as a joke, and you both enjoyed it? You remember last winter being filled with near all-nighters as you were both captivated by the Salvator brothers. Not one of your proudest moments.

You guys got through the intro, munching happily on kimchi fries and placing bets on who was going to cry before the end of the first date before you decided to break the ice.

“So are you going to tell me the real reason you came over?”

Hoseok looked at you confused at the tail end of a fry hanging out his mouth as he struggled to stuff his face. “Wudd ya mmean” he asked through a mouth full. You wrinkled your nose in disgust.

“Kimchi fries and beer, you're trying to make me compliant, and it’s working, so what do you need?” you clarified calling him out on his obvious bribe.

He looked at you guiltily before taking a swig of beer and clearing his throat, “I want you to consider quitting your job,” he said simply.

You froze, not expecting that at all, “If this is about the other night-”

“It’s not just about the other night,” he cut you off “All though yeah that is a big deal, the job is sketchy as hell the hours suck, and it doesn’t even pay that well,”

You don’t know why you felt so defensive, suddenly ready to defend the honor of you convenience store job with a joust to the death, but your felt your face flush as you argued “929 is a good place to work, the owners are nice and understanding about school, the pay doesn't suck it's 50 cents above minimum wage and its close to home. Besides I can’t just not work-”

“I’m not asking you to not work,” Hobi started his voice overly soft the way he does when he tries to calm you down. It only riled you up. “I have a friend who works at this bakery, it’s really nice, they said they’re understaffed right now. The hours are just as nice and they pay $2 above minimum wage plus tips, the atmosphere is nice, and I think you would like it” he said simply.

You tried to swallow down the lump of pride fighting its way up to your throat, You knew he was looking out for you and just wanted the best for you, but your feelings were hurt you felt like your job didn't seem good enough to him. He was always criticizing your choices. Claiming to be looking out for you.

“There’s nothing wrong with my current job, and you know it”

You held his stare but didn’t open his mouth to argue. You could almost see the rusty gears in his stupid head spinning as he tried to think of a response that would rile you up more. The way he was tip-toeing around you and not calling you out for your bullshit excuse set you on edge.

“What aren’t you telling me?” you prompted and you watched the hesitation before he replied

“Y/n, I’m not hiding anything, the job is available I thought it was a good opportunity and-”

“You’re a terrible liar” you cut him off with a scoff as you reached for your beer

“And you’re stupid if you think it’s safe to go back there, y/n they know where you work,” he pleaded

“No, they don’t I told you Ju- Bambi and I got away and hid in the shop if they saw us we would have known,”

“But they saw you in your work polo if they want to go looking for you that would be the first place to start,” he countered, you head your beer to your lips as you froze.

“How did you know I was in uniform,” you asked softly

He spluttered “I didn’t, I’m just assuming you-”

“No, no you seemed confident, you know something, don’t you?” you accused your anger sputtering back to life.

“No I don’t know anything, y/n I swear,”

“Get out, you know I can’t stand liars” you hissed frustrated

“I’m not-” you shot him a withering glare that made him shut his mouth only confirming your suspicion. You watched him with disinterest as he got up leaning toward the table, “leave the beer,” you ordered as you watched his hand go near the six-pack. He only placed a business card on the table, the curly font reading ‘Sugar Daddy.’ You shoveled fries in your mouth in response trying your hardest to convey your petty anger through the action. You listened to him shuffle out the door and heard the click of the lock as he locked it after himself before he was gone. The bastard always looked out for your safety and it made you sick. But still despite your pride what heated your body you felt goosebumps on your arms as the forewarned threat lingered in the back of your mind.

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You checked your watch again nervously as you stood at the edge of the sidewalk outside of Sugar Daddy, you were 25 minutes early, and you always prided yourself on being punctual, but 25 minutes seemed like just a little too long to wait inside the business before your interview. You didn’t want to seem awkward. You told yourself 15 minutes was an appropriately early time to prove your punctuality without seeming like a nuisance. You watched as patrons flitted in and out of the bakery carrying boxes of pastries and fancy looking coffees as you tried to process the past two days.

Two days ago you got a phone call right before leaving your shift from your boss telling you not to come in today and that she had to let you go. You tried to beg her to keep you on staff, saying you were fine with taking fewer hours or even a small cut in wages if that would help, but she insisted there was no other way. The prospect of being unemployed hit you like a truck and your first instinct was to call Hoseok frantic and not knowing what to do. But you reminded yourself after the first ring that you were mad at him. For what exactly? For insulting a job that didn’t want you anymore?

You wondered what you did that could have qualified you for being fired, you always prided yourself on being a good and diligent worker, even getting a small raise after your first year at the shop. You were on the edge of your entire routine changing as you got closer to graduation, and the thought of losing your one constant made you want to unravel.

You knew if you let the phone ring Hoseok would come over immediately to console you saying it was for the best. But you didn’t want to hear what was best for you from him. It took you the entire night of tossing and turning before you decided you would call the bakery the next morning. With the nearing of summer, part-time jobs were being gobbled up by high schoolers, and you didn’t have enough saved up to be unemployed for too long.

You hated the thought of a handout, but at the end of the day, you were qualified for the job and thought yourself more than capable. The owner Seokjin was kind to you over the phone, telling you Hoseok had already put in a good word for you. You ignored the twinge in your heart and made yourself focus on the positive. The atmosphere seemed fun and the promise of early morning hours would work great with your current and future class schedule.

So here you were, in a white button-up and slacks wanting to appear professional for the interview. Contemplating what you would do if this didn’t work out. You tried to ignore the small drop of sweat you felt forming at the back of your neck and running down your back, hoping you weren’t about to sweat through your blouse and decided maybe it was for the best if you just went inside now, in the safety of the air conditioning to maintain your professional appearance. Your makeup was light, some foundation and a light dusting of blush across your cheeks, you kept your eye makeup neutral and decided to go for a lip gloss instead of a colored lipstick, not wanting to have to worry about maintaining the pigment in a setting where you would be doing so much talking.

When you entered the bakery you were hit with the sweet scent of pastries and baking bread mixed with the jolting smell of coffee. Your mouth started watering. The display cabinet by the register was filled with a colorful array of sweet treats, and the far side wall was made up of baskets filled with different loaves of bread people would walk up and choose from. You suddenly thought about backing out of the interview simply so you could maintain your figure which you knew would be at risk when you were surrounded by carbs all day and didn't have an ounce of self-control.

You stood near the wall taking it all in when you saw a handsome man wearing an apron, with a smiling lump of dough with the word ‘Weirdough’ embroidered above it, approach you. He wore a light pink sweater that matched the icing on a number of the pastries with a pair of jeans and converse. He smiled at you and after further evaluation of his broad shoulders and full lips you confirmed that he was the most handsome man you had ever seen.

“You must be y/n” he greeted, taking in your professional attire and the small portfolio you held with a death grip in your hand. You nodded unable to find your voice and his smile grew. “I'm Kim Seokjin, the owner,” he said offering you his hand, you accepted it hoping your hands weren’t as clammy as you felt they were and noticed the patch of ink peeking through the rolled-up sleeve of his forearm, but at this angle, you weren’t able to make out the design.

“Come on to the back and we can have a talk,” he said with a nod of his head before leading the way. You followed him past the counter and into the back where you saw a blond man in the corner kneading dough with a swirl of cinnamon coloring it.

“Do you have any allergies, y/n?” he asked looking over his shoulder as you followed him through the kitchen to what you could only assume to be his office. You shook your head and he sighed with relief, “thank goodness, we make an effort to accommodate all allergies and intolerances in our menu, but it’s a bit harder to escape in the kitchen. I once interviewed someone with a cinnamon allergy, and let's just say that did not go well,” he let out a squeaking laugh and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“You’re shy for a friend of Hoseok’s although I wouldn’t be surprised if he did all the talking, the only time that man is quiet is when he has a mouthful of food,”

You let out a startled laugh at the slight jab as you closed the office door and helped yourself to the chair across his cluttered desk adjusting the pillow behind you slightly as you settled. The feeling of tension in your shoulders ease and the knots in your stomach loosened as you took in the cozy office. You took in Jin’s warm presence, still looking so casual even when sitting behind a desk in the business he owned and found yourself able to relax around him.

“Not at all it just takes a minute for my social battery to warm up, he’ll be the one telling me to shut up once I get started,” you said with a smile forcing a persona of confidence up your throat.

You learned at a young age you truly could fake it till you make it in most social settings. Making your body language appear more confident than you felt. You just needed a few minutes of observing whoever it was you were meeting, formulating how to match their mood. The right amount of humor in your voice, the right amount of attitude. Many thought you were clever and funnier than you actually were. When really you were just a good listener, making a habit of referencing jokes they already made earlier in the conversation to charm them, and get them talking about themselves more before deciding which side of yourself to show them.

Many could misunderstand your attempt at social survival as you being fake, but you saw it more as adapting to your environment. You never pretended to be someone you weren't; you merely highlighted qualities of yourself that would be most appealing to the setting you were in. Most people do it unintentionally. You were just more aware of it, had to make more of an effort in doing it, to overcome your own anxieties.

Jin grinned as he rolled the sleeves of his sweater back down his arm, you again glimpsed the flash of a tattoo making out a familiar geometric shape. “I understand that completely, I’m the same way,” he offered as he leaned back in his chair. And you felt warm as you realized maybe you wouldn’t have to ride out this interview on false confidence after all. Seokjin seemed to be a kind and understanding man, his warm smile putting you at ease despite the interview setting.

The two of you continued on with the interview asking the usual questions before Jin asked you to detail your previous work experience at 929. Afterward, he gave you a brief overview of what your duties at the bakery would entail; baking, taking care of the cash register, making coffees, and cleaning. You were a little intimidated by the thought of being responsible for preparing food, but he assured you you wouldn’t be left in the kitchen alone until they felt you were comfortable.

“So could you start your training tomorrow afternoon?” he asked as he opened his calendar adjusting the glasses on his nose.

“You want to- I’m hired?” you asked in surprise.

Jin smiled at you warmly, “You seem more than capable, and we are in need of a new set of hands, so if you’re still wanting to work here then yes”

“O-ofcourse, yes thank you, thank you so much,” you said shaking his hand.

Seokjin gave you some paperwork to fill out before excusing himself to go check on a few things. You took in the office now that you had a moment to yourself appreciating the slight messiness to the desk that was covered in stacks of paperwork, and a few sheets sprawled in handwritten notes of what looked to be recipes, but overall the room was clean. The bookshelves behind the desk were filled with cookbooks of all kinds, a few business-related titles, and to your surprise what appeared to be a chemistry book or two on the bottom shelves were also accompanied by a few knick-knacks and Mario figurines all strategically placed and dust-free. Above the door was a small wooden plaque that said “All you knead is Love” underlined by a rolling pin. The room overall felt cozy and homey, but maybe that was just the pillow in your chair with the phrase “Espresso yourself” in loving needlepoint, that was doing the talking.

You gave him your banking information and student citizenship card to document in the system so he could add you to payroll, and within an hour you found yourself walking out of the office with plans to be back at 1 pm tomorrow to start your training.

“Were asking you to come so late because the morning rush is our busiest time, I would hate for you to be overwhelmed,” Seokjin clarified as he walked you out of the front of the store.

“Please take something home with you before you go,” he offered, sliding open one of the pastry cabinet doors. This couldn’t be real. Your luck couldn't be this good. You grinned as you selected a flakey blackberry strudel pastry that was braided in a long rope and covered in sparkling sugar. It was delicious, and then you were ready to make your way out the door.

That is until a familiar face made his way out from the kitchen.

“Hey, boss where did you- oh hello princess what are you doing here?” Jimin purred with a Cheshire smile

“Jimin,” Jin warned softly before turning to you with a customer service smile, genuine, but not as warm as the one he revealed to you before.

“This is Jimin,” Seokjin introduced gesturing at the blond in front of you, “He’s going to be one of your co-workers, he’ll actually be here to help with your training tomorrow.” he introduced “But it seems like you already know each other” he voice ended in a question

Jimin looked you up and down with a smile as he swept his bangs back from his forehead, you shifted your weight from leg to leg feeling so flustered under his gaze that you almost missed the geometric tattoo on his forearm twin to the one Seokjin had on his, “We've crossed paths once or twice, I thought you preferred to go by Ella around these parts?” Jimin asked with a knowing look his voice intensifying with his inflection

“Is that true?” Jin asked his voice laced with concern

You swallowed keeping your eyes on Jimin even as you turned your head to Jin and nodded accepting the protection Jimin offered, “I know my family name isn’t as easy on Alcorn's preferred tongue,” you offered as explanation letting your native accent poke through a bit more to sell your point.

Jin raised an eyebrow but nodded in understanding, “In that case, I’ll put Ella on your name tag if that makes you more comfortable.” And with that you took your cue to go, your head spinning as you made your way down the block pastry still clamped in your hand.

“Do you think the cover name is really necessary?” Jin asked as he made his way to the register reliving Monic for her ten.

“Hoseok said she didn’t want her to be affiliated with BTS after she leaves the Westside, and it’s the name Jungkook gave her the night we met. I figured it would appease both of them.” Jimin offered, “besides you have to admit, it is kinda sweet,” he said with a smile Jin rolled his eyes.

“Jungkook really called her Cinderella, I swear he could romanticize roadkill if you let him think about it for too long,” Jin said with a huff. “At least she managed to get a cute nickname out of it,” he added as an afterthought.

“Cute name for a cute girl” Jimin's smile was a little too predatory for Jin’s taste.

“Yah, get back in the kitchen, what am I paying you for?” the elder ordered with a smack to his shoulder.

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You found yourself standing outside of Sugar Daddy at 12:45p.m. the next day, determined to keep your reputation for punctuality, and smiled at Jin as you came in.

You wore a white blouse with a pair of light jeans and yellow flats for a pop of color. You were still unsure of how formal or casual to dress for work, having a uniform at your last job gave you no point of reference, so you elevated your casual attire by accessorizing with a pair of yellow dangling earrings the same color as your shoes and a matching silk scarf you wrapped around your hair tie, letting the long ends with a pattern of honeycomb and bees fall just short of your ponytail. You felt like the soft color pallet of the outfit would help you match the vibe of the bakery better, but you may have to get more creative with your wardrobe if you made a habit of it since a majority of your closet was black.

“Ella,” Jin greeted as you made your way to the counter hovering as you were unsure of whether or not to join him behind it. “I’m glad you're a little early, I had something come up that afternoon that I can't seem to get out of, so I wanted to take you in the back and get you started in the kitchen before I have to go. Jimin will train you upfront after that,” he explained before bringing you back in the kitchen where Jimin was frosting sugar cookies with seasonally appropriate designs. You didn’t remember artistic talent being part of the job descriptions, so you hope that task was reserved for him.

Jimin gave you a kind but unusually quiet smile as he looked up from his work taking his silent cue to head up to the front. You didn’t know what you expected from him today, but the mild mannerism surprised and confused you a bit. Finding out he was your coworker set your nerves on edge yesterday, you had to face the fact that your adventures from last week may not be something you could put behind you. And the fact that you felt more eagerness than dread was a whole other concern you weren’t ready to unbox just yet.

You wondered exactly what would come from working at a ‘gangster bakery.’

The thought of a gangster bakery was so odd you felt silly for being worried about it. You didn’t feel like you were in danger per se, you recognized the symbol on Jimin and Seokjins forearm as the same one that marked Hoseok’s. If this was his way of bringing you into his world after being closed off for so long you weren’t entirely opposed to it. You knew he loved you and wanted to keep you safe. The thought of Hoseok being connected to the night you met Jungkook simultaneously put you at ease and fed your worries.

It made the unknowns of that night less intimidating. Hoseok being in the same gang as the group of men who know where you live meant he could possibly protect you from them. But the thought of Hoseok being affiliated with that kind of violence also made you so nervous it put your stomach in knots.

You also realized Hoseok knowing them didn’t mean you were safe. It was stupid for you to assume so, but having a job with them and getting to know them better gave you a chance to evaluate your situation a bit better. That's what you were hoping at least.

“Ella?” Jin questioned pulling you from your thoughts. You looked up startled to see you had fixated on the ink on his forearm while your thoughts had run wild.

“I’m sorry what did you say?” you asked flushed and you bit at the skin on your bottom lip.

“I said let’s get you an apron,” he said hold out the gray canvas to you. It was then that you saw he was wearing a different apron from yesterday, today said ‘Donut worry. Be happy.”

You unfolded your apron to find it blank, but lined with pockets at the waistline and two tortoise shelled buttons where the straps connected to the top, and unnecessary but fashionable detail. “Don’t worry, I’ll have your embroidered once we find the right pun,” Jin assured as if it was an actual concern.

Your time in the kitchen went by quickly, after a thorough tour of where all the supplies were he showed you how to navigate the iPad that had all the recipes currently on the menu. The recipes were written out in nice steps that made it near impossible to mess it up. Or so Jin thought until you got in the kitchen.

The first accident happened when you got to the mixer, you were making a classic chocolate chip recipe. The measuring of ingredients went by easily, your time in the labs had served you well. But you had never used such a fancy piece of machinery in the kitchen. You forgot to lock the blender down, so when you pushed the dile to turn it on, putting it at max, butter quickly flew out of the metal bowl and right onto Jin’s cheek. You were both horrified and amused by the shocked sound that ripped through his throat. And had to stifle your laughter as he excused himself to wash up in the bathroom mumbling about being worried about breaking out. He decided that later that night he would write directions for all the equipment in the bakery.

Once the cookies were in the oven you were tasked with preparing some cupcakes so you could practice frosting. Any downtime you thought you would get from the pastries cooking was spent cleaning and weighing out the ingredients to the next thing. Two dozen cookies and a dozen muffins later you were finally faced with your worst fear, the decoration station. The cupcakes had cooled and you were given the task to pile them high with a swirl of frosting, place a strawberry in the pile at just the right angle, and drizzle white chocolate over it artistically. You would rather dissect a frog. After two failed attempts, Jin took pity and decided to show you his technique for a third time, when his alarm went off.

“Ella, I hate to cut us short, but I need to get going, you can head upfront with Jimin if you want.”

You did not want.

But you smiled brightly at him with a cheery ‘of course’ and wished him a good afternoon before heading to the front of the bakery. Behind the counter, Jimin was leaning across the register scrolling through his phone in boredom. He fumbled to put his phone up quickly when he heard you come through the door.

“Gosh you scared me I thought you were Jin,” he sighed as you approached, carefully as you balanced a tray of cupcakes in your arms.

“Sorry to disappoint?” you said hesitantly as you set down the tray on the countertop tugging at the skin on your bottom lip subconsciously as you focused on keeping the tall towers of icing from tipping. .

“How did baking 101 go, I don’t smell anything burning,” he said, making easy conversation before raising an eyebrow at your sloppy decor job.

You sighed, “I’m surprised he hasn't fired me yet” you near groaned as you debated your employment. Jimin laughed.

“Well at least you only got a little flour in your hair,” he teased gesturing toward the near-white strand, “Oh no!” You gasped searching for a reflective surface to assure you were presentable. “Relax it comes with the job, I get flour in all kinds of places,” he amended.

“No one wants to hear about your places,” a deep voice broke startling you. You looked up to see a grinning V standing across from you at the counter, you hadn’t even noticed he was there when you came in.

“Oh, it’s you,” you stated dumbly as you turned to Jimin. Tae tilled his head in an oddly felin gestur his curls shifting atop his head as he took you in.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you too my darling El, got any business?” he smirked as you watched him pluck a strawberry from your cupcake and pop it in his mouth.

“Hey, I was going to sell those,” you snapped ignoring his comment as he reached for another one of the berries.

“No you weren’t,” Taehyung replied simply between chews, “they’re ugly” he said punctuating the point as he ate a third strawberry. You turned to Jimin in hopes of him defending your honor, but he only smiled at you confirming your decorating deficiency.

“Alright, that enough,” you hissed, pulling the tray away from him, he chuckled softly before retreating to his side of the counter space right as Seokjin walked out the kitchen decked out in a full suit. It was at that moment you realized Taehyung was dressed in formal attire as well.

“How do I look Ella?” Jin asked with a confident smile. You started at him wide-eyed glancing quickly at Jimin as you debated the HR policies you read in your hiring contract before settling with a safe “Umm very handsome, sir”

“Oh god you’ll only make it worse,” Jimin groaned right as Jin gave a confident, “I know,” in response.

“We should get going,” Tae said looking over to you with a grin “It was a pleasure seeing you, princess,” he said with a flirtatious wink that you were not at all affected by, before turning to walk out the door. Jin gave a quick goodbye, reminding Jimin to behave before the following suit and getting into a familiar sleek black car parked illegally in front of the shop.

“I guess we should get started then,” Jimin said with a smile, and suddenly you had a whole new set of nerves.

Working the front of the store was a lot easier than the kitchen. You were already experienced with the cash register system they used, only needing to familiarize yourself with their menu and how to specialize orders. The pastries all had description cards in the display cabinet, so it was easy to know what is what as well as describe it to the customers. The only thing you had to learn really was how to make coffee. You weren't a stranger to fancy coffee shops, almost regularly indulging in an overpriced, over-sweetened cup yourself. But Navigating the equipment will take some time for you to get used to. And considering how grumpy customers got in the mornings Jimin took extra time to make sure you had the basics down to prepare you for the morning shift.

"And then you just pour the milk in like this," Jimin said with a smile as he made a flawless heart in the milk once again. It had been a slow afternoon at the shop, ideal for training you, and once he was sure you got the hang of things he decided he could give you a head start on mastering your barista skills, because you were not going near the frosting again if he could help it.

The counter was lined with cups filled with various drinks and failed latte art attempts, and the few customers you have had this afternoon had been delighted with the free coffee that came with their purchase. You and Jimin were also buzzing after drinking one too many of the failed attempts.

"If you ever have time and you want the drink to be really good, mix the syrup in with the milk when you steam it, it may take a little extra cleaning, but it helps the flavor stay consistent throughout the drink," he continues as he demonstrated again on a new cup of milk, you watched the milk slowly darken as the chocolate syrup blended in and became frothy. He poured the milk into a cup of espresso skipping the art in favor of adding whipped cream on top before drizzling it perfectly with chocolate syrup. You gasped as he added a marshmallow on top and lit it on fire with a small torch by the register.

"Ta-da!" he said with a grin, "It has toasted marshmallow syrup in it too. The Fireside it’s one of our more popular drinks. Tell me what you think." he said while offering you the beverage.

You blew out the marshmallow with a quick puff of air before tentatively taking a sip, your taste buds danced in delight, "Oh my gosh this is delicious!" you beamed as you looked at him in amazement. He giggled, ruffling his hair as he thanked you.

"Yeah, I get pretty bored here when it gets slow on nights like this, so I kinda let my creativity run wild. Jin lets me have a specialty menu," he said nodding towards the small chalkboard propped by the register, "and if something in particular becomes a hit then he'll add it to the official menu."

Sugar Daddy was basically an equal parts bakery and coffee shop. The business set itself apart by being specialized in having out of the ordinary pastries and drinks like the Fireside where they lit a marshmallow on fire. To be honest Jimin tried to incorporate fire into the menu as much as possible. He was a bit of a pyromaniac at times.

The bakery had a modern feel despite being fit into an older building off the main street of the 7th ward. It wasn’t overly girlish in that sickening way most trendy bakeries are headed, where they are over saturated with pastel colors and curly font menus that were damn near impossible to read. No, Sugar Daddy had a relaxed and cozy vibe; the red brick walls and hardwood floors were complemented with more industrial decor, like the minimalist wire basket wall filled with bread and bagels to be sold, and the Edison light bulbs that hung over the display cases.

"That's so cool!" you said genuinely impressed by his creativity as you read through the flavors on the list. "Honestly Jimin, some of these pastries are so beautiful they're basically art," you continued as you peeked at the display case again admiring the lavender blossoms painted on the small lavender macaroons.

"You're too kind," he said bashfully and you shook your head as you stole another sip of your coffee, a dollop of whipped cream sticking to your nose in the process. Jimin stepped forward, whipping it with his finger with a swift but gentle flick, fighting the urge to lick his finger as he kept eye contact with you. You looked away shyly, a blush staining your cheek. Off limits. he reminded himself begrudgingly.

"Let's take another go at the register. We don't want you to slip up in the middle of rush hour," he said before turning away and breaking any tension that may have built between you two.

Jimin was a natural flirt, but you made it dangerously easy. He was going to have to keep himself in check as he gets to know you more. You were so enthusiastic about everything he's taught you so far and your personality was sweet enough to give him a cavity even in a bakery. But then you kept surprising him with a snide comment or joke that made him do a double-take, your seemingly innocent eyes suddenly appearing all too knowing. It was your first day and you were already driving him crazy.

For a while he was drilling you again, listing off random orders and making you ring them up on the register as you familiarized yourself with the menu. You were both starting to lose interest, as the streetlight outside came on indicating to Jimin you had a little over an hour until closing, and he was worried you may not see another customer for the evening when the bell chimed and a couple entered the store arm and arm.

"You take this one," he encouraged taking a step back to clean up the coffee equipment. You greeted them cheerfully complimenting the woman on her blouse so effortlessly, Jimin wondered if it came naturally or if you were gunning for tips.

Jimin clicked with you well. There were no awkward pauses or hiccups that normally came with training days. You were confident and capable so much so he almost found it a little intimidating at first, found himself seeming like he was the shy one as he struggled to think about what to show you next. You were making small talk with the couple as you collected the pastry of choice for them out the cabinet, rushing it to a natural end as the bell chimed from another customer entering the store. He could tell you were practiced in customer service, your overall energy was both warm and efficient, and he could hear the slight tone in your adapt depending on who you were interacting with.

“Good evening, what can I get for you, sir,”

“I’ll have a cortado,” Jimin froze as he recognized the familiar voice, looking over his shoulder to see Kim Namjoon standing across from you at the counter.

“Late night?” you asked as you smiled at him sweetly and scrolled through the list of drinks to ring him up.

“I find I’m more productive in the evenings,” Namjoon responded smoothly.

“I say the same thing, but if we’re honest I think I’m just guilty of procrastination,” you joked as you wrote his order on a cup and handed it to Jimin, who tried his best to keep one eye on you and the espresso machine as he made the drink.

“Thank you, Ella,” Namjoon said as he dropped his coins in the tip jar with a rattle, and took his drink from Jimin with a small smile.

“You seem tense,” you said softly as you watch Namjoon take a seat at one of the tables scrolling through his phone.

Jimin blinked quickly before turning to you with a smile, “Not at all princess, but it’s almost time for closing so let me show you how we pack and clean up everything,” he said with a smile. Before he could go further the bell chimed again and to his displeasure saw another one of his brothers enter the shop. Jungkook looked about as shocked to see you as you did, despite having the warning. Jimin forgot he and Namjoon were taking care of a deal tonight and using the storefront as a meeting place.

Jimin watched Namjoon frown as Jungkook walked passed him. A dopey smile forming on the idiot’s face as he strolled up to the counter. You didn’t take your eyes off him as you brushed by Jimin to take his order. Saints, you were both pathetic.

“What can I get you?” you asked your voice shy and small as you reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Caramel macchiato,” his articulate brother responded softly.

Jimin watched Jungkook shift he weight as you rang him up searching for something to say before blurting, “I saw you the other day, at the library”

Your smile faltered, “Yaeh, I know the elevator you-”

“Sorry I didn’t say hi, I guess that was pretty weird,” he laughed rubbing the back of his neck nervously

“It was,” you agreed, eyebrows furrowing, and Jimin had to hide his smile with his hand as he watched the younger deflate. You were brutal and Jimin adored it.

“But you can say hi now?” you offered catching your mistake.

Jungkook flushed as a smile broke across his cheeks and gave a soft, “Hey Ella,”

“Hey Jungkook,” you responded as you smiled back at him endearingly and he felt his stomach flutter at the fact that you remembered his name. Jimin wanted to bang his head into a wall at the sight of the middle school romance blooming in his shop. He looked around for inspiration desperate to spoil the moment before your eyes turned into actual hearts.

“Kook,” Namjoons voice almost echoed in the quiet bakery and you both jumped as you handed Jungkook back his card, “Sorry coming,” he called walking over to the elder.

They exchanged words softly, Jungkook plugging a jump drive into Namjoons laptop as Jimin talked you through preparing his drink. By time you were ready to bring the drink to him he was gone, “You can set it on the table.” Namjoon said with a sweet smile flashing two crater deep dimples at you. “Jungkookie is just running something over to a friend he’ll be back soon,” he assured. You flushed and realized you probably looked disappointed by his absence and set the steaming mug on the table, wishing to all gods that Namjoon wouldn't notice how you teasingly wrote ‘Hey :)’ in caramel sauce on top of his drink. Stupid, stupid you hissed to yourself as you returned to a smirking Jimin. What were you doing exactly? Flirting??

Jimin got you started with closing the kitchen, standing the doorway to keep one eye at the front of the shop while directing you on how to wipe down the ovens and prep some of the yeast for tomorrow morning.

At one point Suga came into the shop and chatted with Namjoon, but he didn’t order anything so he kept you in the kitchen deciding you didn’t need to meet the entire household tonight. When you did all that you could while the shop was still open Jimin had you come back to the front to show you how to clean the coffee machines. Namjoon was still at the table in the corner, a small plate of lemon cake half-eaten in front of him as he worked on his computer and Jungkook’s cooling mug across from him untouched.

“El your sleeves are soaked,” Jimin groaned, noticing the dingy white fabric, “here.” he sighed, reaching for your wrist and rolling your sleeve up your forearm. “You’re going to have to make a habit of rolling your sleeve now that you work in a kitchen,” he said as he reached for the other one.

You nodded not really hearing him as your own eyes looked down at his arms. You realized while you established you were probably safe to work here, that you still haven’t gotten any answers about the guys.

“I like your tattoo,” you said, your voice sounding more forced than casual, but Jimin stiffened in response before letting a small smirk crawl across his face, “Yea, you got any?” he asked as he finished and dropped your arm. You shook your head as you shifted uncomfortably, “No, not yet at least, I think they’re super cool though. What does yours mean?” you prompted trying to make yourself seem only slightly interested.

Jimin glanced over his shoulder to Namjoon observing the two of you with a raised brow, and Jimin rolled his eyes. It’s not like BTS was his secret, it was Hoseok’s. “It’s a family crest,” Jimin replied dismissively,

Your brows rose in disbelief, “Really it’s so modern looking, I didn’t realize you and Jin were kin.” you prodded as you returned to wiping down the counter.

Annoyance flashed across his face before he huffed, “We’re very distant cousins, but he’s like a brother to me.”

“Wow you must have a massive family,” you prompted with a smile. And Jimin’s eyes glinted as he saw a way out of your little interrogation. “Very,” he said as he leaned in to whisper, “that's not the only massive thing I have though,”

You immediately turned scarlet stepping away from him, “Jimin,” you hissed scandalized. He smiled cheekily before turning back to the floor, “C’mon nosey let's get back to work.” he prompted. You and Jimin continued cleaning and whipping down the counters before the shop finally closed. Jungkook never came back, and you tried not to look disappointed as you took the cold coffee cup, off the table along with Namjoon’s cake plate. Most of your message sunk to the bottom of the cup in a large sugar lump. You noticed Namjoon still sat at his table working after Jimin flipped the sign, and Jimin saw the curiosity in your eyes as you placed the dishes in the sink.

“He’s the owner,” Jimin offered as explanation.

Confusion wrinkled your brow “I thought Jin was the owner?”

At this Jimin’s eyes turned to crescents as he smiled “He owns Jin.” he said simply before returning to the dishes. Once the dishes were dried and put away Jimin took you to the back to finish cleaning the kitchen and preparing the dough to rise for the morning’s bread.

“It’s getting late, why don’t you head home early,” Jimin offered as you placed reusable cling wrap over another bowl.

“Are you sure, we’re not done?” you asked confused, he nodded with a smile. Feeling tired from the long day you decided to take him up on the offer. You quickly slipped off your apron and gathered your things before leaving the store Jimin locking the door behind you.

You shuffled down the street as you dug in your bag to grab your pepper spray, while this area was lit much better than your old job, you still were taking a maximum precaution on your walk home.

“Y/n?”

You squealed in shock as you whirled swinging your purse at your attacker. Jungkook didn’t seem affected at the bag met his arm with a loud smack, but he looked at you sheepishly as he apologized. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just going to offer to walk you home”

“Gosh, Jungkook I could have hurt you what were you thinking sneaking up on me like that,” Jungkook laughed as he started walking with you, “No you couldn’t have, I barely felt that,” he teased bumping you slightly with a solid shoulder.

“Don’t tempt me to try again, I’ll make sure you feel it next time,” you threatened lightly. He grinned cheekily at you

“I could teach you, ya know?” he offered and you raised a brow for him to elaborate, “How to fight- defend yourself I mean, you held your own the other night, but it’s important that people like you know how to defend themselves properly in a city like this,”

You scoffed, “First things first, I believe it was you who got jumped the other night, and I saved your ass” you reminded

“You did a great job of distracting them, so I could take control of the situation,” he corrected. You ignored him.

“Secondly, what do you mean people like me?” you asked a flush already creeping up your cheeks. Is it a compliment to be told that your pretty enough to be kidnapped? You made a mental note to reevaluate you standards of what is and isn’t a compliment in the shower later.

“People who walk home from work at night,” Jungkook clarified and your face fell as you realized he wasn’t flirting with you. He was being a sensible and nice guy.

“Thanks, but I think I can handle my own,” you said your voice flat, and Jungkook wondered what he said wrong this time.

“Oh, c’mon I can teach you the good ole’ one, two,” he insisted punching his fist through the air for emphasis.

It was at that moment you caught sight of the trapezoid design on his forearm two. You don't know why you were surprised, You reached grabbed his arm gently pulling it to get a better look, the inner doctor in you trying not to lust after the thick veins protruding from his arm. You should ask him if he donates blood often. “What does it mean exactly,” you asked catching him off guard.

“The family symbol” you elaborated as you traced the pad of your finger softly around each side. Jungkook tried to contain the shiver that ran through him but had no way of stopping the way he felt his heart swell at your question. You knew. Hoseok or Jimin must have told you. But you knew he was in a gang and you weren’t repulsed by it, you saw it for what it was, a family. You were even willing to let him walk you home. He smiled brightly as he responded,

“They’re doors,” he said simply, “One open inwards one open outwards, it’s supposed to mean you’re never alone, there’s always somewhere for you to go when you're part of the family, The symbol is a promise that you’ll take care of each other.”

You angled your head as you saw the doors and smiled softly, “So what’s the family name,” you asked still trying to wrap your head around how a Park, Kim, and Jung could all be kin. Their grandparent must have been busy,

“BTS?” Jungkook asked confused “Oh it stands for-” Jungkook stopped as he saw the way your face fell.

“BTS as in the gang?” you asked and he tried to not dwell on the waiver in your voice.

“So you didn’t know,” Jungkook said realizing his mistake.

“Well I figured, I mean I always assumed Hoseok was apart of something, but when I asked Jimin he said it was a family crest and then you had that beautiful explanation and I thought. I thought for a second that maybe,” your face turned red as you got flustered, “Maybe someone would be honest with me for once, but no I work at a gangster bakery.” You huffed your mouth set into a firm pout as you continue your rant, “ Which is the most absurd thing, by the way, you guys should really re-evaluate your business tactics. Open a dive bar or something cool” you said starting to pick up your pace as you grew frantic or furious. Jungkook couldn’t really tell.

“Y/n, please I’m sorry I thought you knew,” Jungkook pleased

And you laughed humorously, “I should have I’m so stupid I really thought-” Jungkook struggled to understand you as you continued to mumble to yourself angrily your mouth in a firm pout as you turned around to head in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?” Jungkook was jogging to keep up with you as you were on the border of full-on sprinting.

“To talk to my best friend, I wanna know if he’s capable of telling the truth” you hissed and Jungkook slowed as you turned on the road of Hoseok’s apartment complex.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man” he huffed, pressing his hands to his ears in despair. He tailed you slightly just to make sure you got there safe before quickly sending a warning text to Hobi. Though he wasn’t sure anything could properly prepare the man for you.

You stomped of the flight of stairs in Hoseok’s building, banging on the door to warn him before you dug through your purse for your keys.

“Y/n?” Hoseok asked confused as he opened the door, you shoved right past him near hysteric with anger, “Let’s talk,” you snapped as you made your way into the living room.

“Y/n, what the hell is going on?” he demanded taking in your disheveled state.

“I was just wondering now that I got fired from my job and work at your gangster bakery how long until I get my own cute little tattoo,” you said with a saccharine smile. Hoseok’s stomach dropped, “I can explain.” he started.

“I bet you can,” you snapped before your eyes watered your emotions quickly getting the best of you, “Hobi, I don’t wanna be mad I just wanna know the truth.” you pleaded voice wavering. And that was the truth, you felt like you could care less if he was in a gang. It was Alcorn, you had to be in a gang to survive if you weren’t rich. The only reason you hadn’t joined one yourself was because you were an international student and no one cared about you, but even that hadn’t kept you out of it. You and Daewon almost joined Black Pink, a notorious girl gang at your university during a drunken mishap your freshman year.

Upon seeing your eyes water and your lip tremble Hoseok instantly wished you would scream at him. He didn’t want to hurt you. He didn’t mean for it to go this far. For you two to get so close after his sister's death, or for him to lie to you for so long. He told himself he kept you out of it for your safety, but really it was just too easy for him to live two lives, for you to look at him like he wasn’t a murderer and for him to pretend for a few hours that he wasn’t. He sighed sitting on the couch and you plopped down next to him and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“I guess it’s best to start at the very beginning which was when I was around 16,” he started.

A/N: Whew this is the longest thing I’ve written (so far). And I’m super stoked to see what everyone thinks! I had a personal deadline to post before the end of the month bc I’m working 40 hours a week and taking online classes, but I got hit by a truckload of insperation and have felt so beyond flattered by the comments that I started writing during my lunch break and shot this bad booy out and plotted out possibly nine chapters?? So stay tuned y’all we’re in for a long ride. As always thank you for reading! Please comment if you feel led they really help me out!!! <3

pt.4

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