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#You should see my museum of a bedroom
milkzoro · 6 months
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need to redecorate
summary: y/n and trafalgar law are in a new relationship, but haven’t met irl yet.
cw: MDNI, smut, law being a creep, spit, slight dom!law, p in v fucking, edging
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☆彡
~
he wonders how he was able to bag a girl like you. your supple skin, thick ass and thighs. he was obsessed with the way that you’re always wearing mini skirts that are just a tad too small. he love the pudge of your stomach that puffs so softly out of the hem line.
he’s here again, back at this overpriced indie coffee shop. he knows your exact order and the approximate time frame of your arrival. he is waiting for you. not to pick you up or grab a coffee with you. but to get more images for his collection.
she was so perfect ‘n bubbly he thought, needed to capture her in every moment. when you’re grocery shopping, picking up meds, soaking up some sun while you’re in your backyard. he even has some tasteful shots of you undressing.
he finally notices you leaving the coffee shop with your cup in hand and hips swaying softly.
he has a drone. he would never bring his camera out like this, not where people could see him being a freak. his best shots always came from his camera though. the harder to get the sweeter the treat he thought. but with you just running errands, this would have to do. he’s lucky to have found one small enough to just slip past your mind and not notice it.
he glides the flying camera in your direction, lining up the angles perfectly. “my angel, such ‘n airhead. how have you not found me out yet.” he sighs and takes multiple shots of your body. he absolutely cannot not wait for these photos to develop, you looked delicious.
~
he is now hanging up his prizes from the day onto his wall. carefully placing each one with a few command strips, he could never damage his works of art with a stupid tack. ugh the thought of that disgusts him. law thinks he is a famous photographer. his works should be hung up in a museum (his bedroom).
he was especially excited for tonight though. such a cute and sweet event. tonight he’d get to watch a movie with you and it was also your one month anniversary. getting to see your face on his monitor would make his day. you always looked so innocently beautiful in the setting of your pretty room. sitting there listening to him speak with your dolly eyes.
it never felt weird being in a relationship with you considering you’ve never met in person. it’s been mentioned, but somehow one of you is always unavailable. one month isn’t even that long, he thought. i’ll be ready soon, i just uhh need to ‘redecorate.’
~
“happy one month anniversary babiee!!!” you sang on the other line. oh how you looked so stunning for him. silk cami resting pretty on your neckline and no bra. you felt so cheeky. seeing the attractive man on the other side sent butterflies to your tummy. his dark features cascading in his dark room. truthfully, kinda eery but ohhh so sexy.
his face warmed up at the sight of you. smiling warmly. his golden eyes picking up beautifully in the screen of your small laptop. “y/a ya~. happy anniversary,,,, ~pookie~.” he giggles at that last part. he’s definitely picking up some your language even if he denies that he isn’t.
after assessing our options. law agreed to your suggestion. we were going to watch {MOVIE}. law had everything all set up and had the movie on pause. “you have your snacks baby?” his voice was getting crunchy in the speakers of your old computer. stupid internet. you hummed and cuddled up with your blankets waiting for him to press play.
~
“babe.”
… he didn’t hear you.
“baby.”
“hmm?” his confused little face popped into frame. “yn ya~ what’s wrong?”
you sighed whilst sitting up, meticulously propping up on your tits so he could see you better. “the movies’ so blurry. can’t i just come over~”
law could hear you loud and clear. ‘come over?’ he thought. fuck what was he going to do. he’d love nothing more than for you to come lay with him and ‘watch’ movies. there’s just a small problem, his shrines. it’s about time you two get together, he just needed to be careful.
quick calculations and possible solutions are racing through his mind. uhhh she lives about twenty ish minutes from my place,,, i think i can do something.
he hesitated before speaking, “uhhm y- yea let me send you my address.” him actually agreeing made you so happy! you finally got to see you cute boyfriend! and on our anniversary too, what a treat! cartoony hearts were practically spinning around your head.
“oh okay!! i’m just gonna grab my things ‘n i’ll come over” you blew law a quick kissy through your camera and shut off your monitor. you were so excited.
“shit- twenty minutes to ‘redecorate’, i can do this.” law is panicking.
~
your bag’s keychains jingled against your body as you made your way up to his door, wrist immediately knocking agains the wood. a few moments pass as you anticipate his presence.
when you saw him standing there in front of you you were in awe. his skin glowing under the moonlight, he looked so perfect. was he sweating?
“y/a ya~” his voice is dripping with honey. it made you feel numb. he leaned down to kiss your lips. slender fingers coming to hold you cheek. your lips met his, his taste making you feel intoxicated.
“happy anniversary pretty~ let’s get inside” he reaches for you hand and you can’t help but notice how clammy they are. awe was he nervous? teehehe such a cutie.
~
movie long forgotten, law had you pinned beneath him. eyes assaulting every inch in your body. his thin fingers moving themselves to push on the plush of your inner thighs. “you’re so soft baby~” his fingers were toying with the seams of your panties. “‘nd soo wet already huh?” his eyes flicker to your own.
“shhhiiit ahh~ mhm yes laww” you whine out, dying for a taste. seeing pictures is nowhere near comparable to the real thing. you can already see his dick in his jeans and can’t help but arch your back at your imagination.
“want to feel me baby? let me take good care of you.” he sees your eager nodding and slips you out of your your soaking panties. his fingers are fumbling as he is trying to lower his boxers and unzip his jeans. “god yes law pleaSE.” two of his fingers slip past your fold with ease. noticing your arousal he swirls his digits around, collecting your juices. fuck your so slick, he wraps his fist around his thick cock to spread your liquid. he hisses at the relief.
“gonna fuck you good doll, just say my name for me, okay?” he whines as he gets to push just a little bit past his tip “shhhiiiitttt.”
“law please baby .. haahh~ more hmm.”
you can’t help but moan at his painfully slow movements. you can see it in his face too, the way his eyes are squeezed shut, it’s easy to tell that he wants to move too, but fucking you slowww is driving the both of you insane. his rhythm is picking up causing you to drool and mutter nonsense.
he puts a finger on your mouth pressing down firm against the pad of your tounge then moves to get in between your teeth. he’s adding one more digit to your mouth before using them to try and spread your mouth.
“open your mouth yn ya~” his eyes are lust filled as you see him start to collect spit in his own. he is fucking you faster now and with each thrust and shake, you’re eager to open your mouth for him. wanting to accept any liquid he has to offer.
“such a filthy girl y/a.” he missed, just a little. his fingers come up to rub some of the saliva away. you swallowed the remaining liquid and beg for him to go deeper. “fuck y/n you want it that bad huh, haaah~ tell me,, who’s pussy ‘s this?” his hand come to lay on your neck, squeezing tightly on both sides of your windpipe. he is struggling to hear you and pulls his dick out. “speak baby~”
feeling his length suddenly go missing from your cunt has you in tears. you were so close and full, now nothing. “law fuckk baby i was gonna cu-” he cuts you off and squeezes on your neck harder. “i said whos fuckin pussy ‘s this?”
white spots are forming in the corners of your vision, too close to your orgasm to black out now so you fight to speak back to him. “ahh, it’s ‘s yours law!! fuck- only yourss~” his grip on you looses ever so slightly but still keeps his hand there.
his lips curl into a smirk as he lines you up again. his heat filling you just right, and hearing his breathy whimpers were just enough to get you there. “such a good girl for me fuckk taking me so well baby i feel you suckin me in haahh-”
his dick so perfect for your hole, leaking soo much for him. cleanching down hard, you are ready for release. “law~ fuck s-so close, please uSE ME!” he lifts your knees to hit your most sensitive spot harder. his hips working against your aching body recklessly. you could tell he was close.
“shiit just just like tha baby,, right- ahh right fuckING THERE AHHH KEEP- keep goiNG♡” you walls are contracting hard on his cock almost milking him. your legs are shaking violently as you feel your orgasm start to take control of your whole body. hearing his moans has you squirting around him.
“fuck baby where do you want me to cum?”
comeing down from your high you manage to respond to him. “come on my tits.” you pull your shirt up slightly so he could decorate your pretty breasts with his semen.
he thinks your such a dirty girl and he’s obsessed with it. he pulled his thick, dripping cock from your hole and tightly squeezed around his creamy base. fuck he looked soo good like this, you could practically see his eyes rolling back as he fucking his fist above you. glimmers of sweat beaded on his forehead has him looking so angelic, it’s making your tummy do flips again. a gasp leaves his lips as he shoots his hot load across your breasts and swollen nipples. his breaths sending shockwaves to your aching cunt. he falls down close to you and kisses your forehead.
“happy one month y/n ya~”
~
after suddenly waking up, you notice a rough edge scratching your arm. reaching in between his mattress and the box spring, you pull on the foreign object and discover it’s a loose photo. oh it’s you. you giggle. you find him so endearing and obsessive…
unfortunately for him it was a blurry one, but you had an idea. while law was asleep, fucked out, you decided to gift him something better. his polaroid was placed on his desk so you had a mini photo shoot. you took only a few, one of your tits, still somewhat crusted with his cum. and a couple of your thighs and ass. and the final touch being a lipstick kiss stain in the corner of each one. you placed the camera back in its spot and tucked away your custom pieces of art with his other photographs. he will find them eventually. teheheh you’re welcome my love xx
*& we sleep again zzz*
an: y/n is a freak
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wraith-posts · 1 month
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i'm not really dead
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pairing: dean winchester x reader
CONTENT: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship
word count: 691
a/n: there is a pt. 2 to this that is just smut… but u let me know if that’s something u wanna see or not lol
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You dropped your keys on your dresser and nudged your bedroom door shut with your foot. You had just gotten home from a long search through library archives, and you were feeling brain-dead. The bunker was empty, so you figured you would take advantage of the silence and treat yourself to a little nap. A little resting-of-the-eyes, if you will.
You plopped down on the leather footstool by your bed and started untying your shoes. It was a little too quiet, now that you thought about it. You went through the roster in your head.
Sam was out of town, visiting a museum in Portland or someplace following up on something he read in a Men of Letters file.
It was not uncommon for Castiel to be MIA, so you weren't worried about him.
You kicked off your shoes. It was Dean you should have been worried about, but you figured he was probably on a beer run and forgot to write a note. He wouldn't have gone and done anything dangerous alone.
A familiar set of footsteps hammered down the hallway. Speak of the devil, you thought.
The door flew open, revealing a flushed and out of breath Dean. His eyes landed on you instantly, and he stumbled across the room and fell on his knees at your feet, grabbing you into his arms.
"Dean?" you asked, concern lacing your voice. "What's wrong, baby?"
His voice was muffled, face buried in your chest. "Nothing." But his voice cracked with emotion.
"Don't lie," you admonished lovingly, rubbing his back.
He breathed a heavy sigh and said nothing. Then, "I thought you were dead." His voice was hoarse. You wondered if he had cried the whole way home.
"I'm fine," you soothed. "Why would you think that?"
Then it hit you. He had gone and done something dangerous alone.
"Dean, you didn't go after that djinn, did you?" you asked, alarmed. You pushed him back and forced him to look at you.
"I've killed plenty of djinns before," he defended, dropping his eyes. "Alone, even."
"I know you have, but baby," you said. "You said you would wait until Sam got back. And clearly you should have, if it got to you."
"It's fine, I got it," Dean argued. He took a shaky breath. "It just touched me first, and I-" His voice cracked again.
You pulled him back in. "It's okay. It was just a dream."
"A nightmare," came his muffled voice.
"A nightmare," you agreed, stroking his hair.
Dean turned his head to the side. "I was still fighting it, but you were there too, and..." he trailed off, not wanting to voice what he had seen. "I've seen too many people I love die," he finished.
You kissed the top of his head. "Well, I'm not dead. So you didn't really see me die."
He snorted lightly in response. "So literal." He looked up at you, resting his chin against your sternum. You kissed him softly.
"Let's get in bed," you said when you parted.
Dean raised an eyebrow. "I know you like it when I cry, but-"
"Oh shut up," you laughed, swatting him. "I meant to take a nap, my brain melted out of my ears doing all that reading earlier." You stood up and turned around to hop into bed. You patted the blanket beside you and Dean gladly collapsed and rolled into your side.
You pressed your forehead to his and tried to look into his eyes.
"You look like you have one eye," he mumbled, smiling. You giggled and planted a kiss on his plush lips that turned into more kisses and Dean swiping his tongue across your lips. His mouth moved against yours, lazily making out with you, tongue licking gently into your mouth. You breathed through your nose, feeling like you could kiss him forever.
He broke away, keeping his face nuzzled against yours. "I love you," he whispered. "Don't go dying on me, okay?"
"I won't," you said solemnly. You gave him another peck on the lips and snuggled down into his embrace, wrapping your arm around his waist. "I promise."
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dividers by @/cafekitsune
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spiderfunkz · 9 months
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hihi!! loved ur artist hcs with the arachkids!!
could i request an artist! gf with miles? they could be sketching in their own journals on a rainy day and maybe even share a kiss??? thank you! much love xx
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✧.* lovers rock
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— summary : while the others talk, we were listening to lovers rock, in her bedroom.
— pairings : miles morales x fem!reader
— word count : 0,3k
— warnings : fluff, established relationship, super cheesy teen romance stuff, miles being a rambling mess, reader calling miles a nerd, and like a kiss (on the cheek Oops). also not proofread.
a/n : hii thank u sm for the request lovely ^_^ sorry this took so long writers block kicked my ass around, but here it is now!! hope u like it <3
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you could hear the faint sound of the rain followed with a bit of humming through your earphones. you've been spending the day sketching in your journal with your boyfriend, as the rain had cancel your plans of going out.
but there's no point in being sad about that, so when your boyfriend texts you if you wanna meet up of course you said yes.
"what're you working on?" miles peaks, "it's a surprise." you reply, scribbling on the page. your drawing a portrait of miles, he's smiling, teeth showing, with a little kiss mark on the cheek.
and he's drawing a portrait of you, his art style perfectly capturing your beauty. there are already many drawings of you in his journal, each one picturing a different memory with you, but there's just something about this one.
maybe it's because how your surroundings can effect feelings. miles loves going on dates with you to arcades or the movies, but he adores spending time with you like this, lazy rainy days where he just chats with you and sit there in comfortable silence.
"how about, if i show you mine, you'll show me yours?" he asks. you nodded, "alright, i'm also done with mine."
a few minutes pass by and you're putting the finishing touches on your sketch. "i'm done!" you smile, showing him your drawing.
miles reveals his book too, it was a similar sketch to yours, it was you smiling with a little kiss mark near your cheek. and if you squint you could make out a little 'i love you' with a heart next to it.
he gasps, "we drew the same thing? no way, i mean obviously you drew it better than me but everything you draw is basically amazing. like seriously though, this should be put in a museum, my face! well not my face but you drew my face really nicely! wait no- that sounds narcissistic but.." he rambles causing you to chuckle.
"does that say 'i love you' ?" you squint, pointing at the tiny writing. "oh you could see that?" he hides the book away from you, face turning red.
he seems embarrassed, so you reassured him not to be. "i love you too, nerd." you kiss him on the cheek, just like the sketch you made.
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Spring | JJK
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Hello darlings!!!
Pairing: royal guard!Jungkook x princess!Reader, prince!Jimin x princess!Reader (ft. Yoongi & Hoseok)
Summary: In which you, princess of the Gyeongdong Dynasty, were in the middle of wedding plans. An arranged marriage that would guarantee your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.
Or in which you are assigned a new royal guard that swore to protect you with his life. Jeon Jungkook. That's his name. A name you could never forget. A name that, slowly but surely got engraved not only in your memories but also in your heart.
Love, politics, betrayal and desire. All in ancient history. A love that never should have happened, two souls that wouldn't be allowed to be together.
Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of past life, reincarnation! AU, implied soulmate! AU, flashbacks, ft. Yoongi and Hoseok, modern! AU, lost love, yearning, strangers to lovers???, all the feels, crying, there's a kiss, sweet and soft koo, hurt/comfort, (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count: 10.4 k
A/N: Hello, darlings! Welcome the the finale of "Four Seasons"! I know you guys have waited a looong time for this part to come out but it is finally here so let's see how Jungkook and our Princess will end their love story!
This whole story was highly inspired by "Moon Lovers" and the ending it should have had, (in my humble opinion). I included different scenes of other movies/shows/dramas that I liked with the hope you will like it as well.
Also thank you guys so much for 200 followers! Take this as my thank you gift, darlings!
Thank you so much for all the love this series got and thank you for sticking up with me to see the end of this journey and hopefully the beginning of many more! Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! Happy reading, everyone!
💜 Boraghae ARMY 💜
~Taglist for Four Season: @valhallawhispers @lovingkoalaface @seokout @ackercute @jksusawife
~Tagging people who were waiting for the finale (I apologise if you didn't want to be tagged) @jjanjankook @junghoseok07 @vminkookgf @allie-is-a-panda
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We have lived through centuries, carrying many lives, carrying many deaths. Carrying a world only remembered by our pure soul.
Jungkook opened his eyes, it was still dark outside. He sighed, reaching over his nightstand and picking up his phone. His eyes burned with the sudden light coming from the small device as he turned off his morning alarm.
The phone rested on his chest as he hesitated whether to get up and go to work or probably call sick today once more. Yet a sudden weight getting on the bed made him sigh once more. His other hand blindly searched for his large and sweet dog to pet him lazily while remembering Bam was running out of food and he needed to buy another bag, that meant he had to go to work once more.
With a soft groan, he sat on the bed, searching for his slippers before he stood up and walked out of the bedroom with Bam hot on his heels.
The sun was barely out yet the sky was already painted in beautiful hues of blue and orange. Decorated with the soft looking clouds that seemed to have been delicate brushes over a painting in the museum Jungkook worked at.
Loneliness encapsulated Jungkook's heart as he gazed at the beautiful sky, he almost felt as if there was something missing in his life or rather, someone. He felt empty, divided and there was nothing that could fill that void in his soul.
He tried getting into cooking, but the soft ache was always there. Working out was the solution for some time but as soon as he was back home, that melancholy drowned his soul once more. It made him ache, dream and yearn for something he didn't even know what it was but he felt like he needed it to survive.
Spring had arrived a couple of weeks ago, the trees were blooming with beautiful pink flowers and the petals fell on the ground softly, creating an enchanting path to walk by. The parks were full of greenery and the birds began to sing after the crude winter. Warmer days were to come.
Jungkook found himself walking through the same streets like every morning to get to his full-time job. He walked monotonously, his earpods on only to stop people from talking to him, not that it had happened many times but there was something about today that he didn't wish to interact with people. The least he did it, the better.
No music filled his ears, the walk was monotonous; monochrome even. Without an ounce of colour in his life even when spring was flourishing around him.
However, the sudden smell of fresh roses invaded his senses and he was pulled back from his mind and looked around the crowd that walked alongside him but were unaware of his mundane existence.
Many people surrounded him. Many people continued their paths while he stood rooted to the ground. The scent so soft and calming it made his heart skip a beat without thinking about it. But the feeling was lost before he could fully grasp it. Something clawed at his heart to search for such a unique scent, to go after the person who owned it but the idea dissipated from his mind like fog in a spring morning as someone bumped his shoulder softly and Jungkook was forced to continue moving with the crowd who carried him away of his very first taste of spring.
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You stared out of the window of your car, your chin rested over your knuckles as you lost yourself in your thoughts. You noticed the beautiful cherry blossoms have already bloomed, spring has arrived sooner than you thought. But despite the mesmerising view outside of your car, you felt nothing about the pink petals that signalled a new season has started.
Almost as if your heart was frozen. Many called you that. Ice Queen. For people have rarely ever seen you smile. As if it was physically harmful for you to do so. The public always had its eye on you given that you were the only and beautiful daughter of a very important politician, your life was surely of entertainment to the media.
"Did you check the files I sent you yesterday?"
Hoseok, your best friend and personal assistant, spoke next to you. His voice brought you back from your thoughts. You turned to look at him with that emotionless expression he had already gotten used to as you spoke with a dry voice.
"Of course. If I'm going to buy something, I inform myself well, Hoseok. You already know the drill."
He sighed, opening his phone as he checked a new message from your father.
"Is there anything that caught your eye?"
You took a deep breath, your fingers playing with the bracelet you never took off as you spoke with that same bored tone he honestly hated in you. Not because Hoseok had come to terms with it meant he liked it. He had once heard your beautiful laughter. Your precious smile was enough to illuminate a whole room. But that had been long ago. Many years had passed since those golden days. Days when you didn't have responsibilities, when there were no explicit expectations. Days when you both were only children.
"I want to see the paintings. The Gyeongdong Dynasty is known for their magnificent art but I won't be convinced until I see such art pieces with my own eyes."
Hoseok sighed yet again. If he got a dollar for every time he sighed these days he'd already be rich.
"Stubborn as ever."
He muttered under his breath and you turned around to look out of the window, hiding the minuscule smirk that threatened to break over your cherry red lips.
The car stopped in front of the Leeum Museum. You looked at the building, hearing how Hoseok stepped out of the car, just as your driver. Your best friend walked around the car and opened the door for you. With graceful movements you stepped out as well and stood tall on your ground as Hoseok closed the door behind you.
"I'll call you when we’ll be getting back."
Hoseok spoke to the driver, the older man bowed down at you both before he got in the car again and drove off. You stood in front of the museum, admiring the beautiful architecture. Soft wind made your hair fly slightly as you began walking to the castle of arts with Hoseok trailing behind you.
A sudden melancholy filled your heart with each step you took towards the building. As if you had been missing something and were only about to find it. It clawed at your heart and you shuddered at the feeling. Suppressing it as the double doors opened for you and you entered the elegant and modern museum, wanting to stay and leave at the same time.
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"Today Miss Lee will be visiting us for her purchase, Jungkook."
Yoongi spoke as he leaned back on his office chair while twirling a pen between his fingers. Jungkook nodded, hands clasped in front of him as he listened attentively.
"She is an extremely special client, one of our main buyers. I am trusting you to tend to her every need. Don't mess with her. Let her roam around and when she decides what artefact she'd want to buy, bring her here. I'll sign the paperwork."
Jungkook looked at his boss and friend with curiosity in his big doe eyes.
"Is there anything specific I should know about her?"
Yoongi sighed deeply, twirling his chair a bit to the right as he looked outside the beautiful gardens of the elegant museum.
"You really don't follow the media, do you? Miss Lee (y/n) is known to have a very difficult temper. She has never been seen smiling and her attitude is as cold as ice, according to netizens. Don't follow her too closely, don't even look her in the eyes. We can't lose such an important purchaser as her."
"I understand."
Jungkook reassured with firmness in his voice, feeling something oddly familiar at the mention of the stoic woman's name. Something within himself he wasn't quick enough to grasp.
"You may go, she is expected to arrive any minute now."
The younger man nodded, bowing softly before he left the classy and minimalist office. Jungkook descended the marble staircase that led to the offices above only to come face to face with Jung Hoseok himself.
"Mr. Jung."
He acknowledged. Hoseok turned to look at Jungkook before a warm smile appeared on his delicate and beautiful features.
"Ah, you must be Jeon Jungkook, right?"
The latter nodded, extending his right hand forward. Hoseok shook his hand firmly before the both men began walking back to the gallery.
"I apologise. I wasn't notified when Miss Lee arrived. I'd like to introduce myself to her."
Jungkook spoke with professionalism in his deep voice. Silently earning Hoseok's silent approval about the younger man.
"Of course. I left her in the ancient relics hall. Let's go there, shall we?"
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You had ventured on your own when Hoseok left you to search for the man who was going to accompany you and assess you in your purchase. You didn't pay him much thought as he disappeared around the corner, leaving you alone in the large and beautiful house of arts.
Your feet carried you through the halls, your heels clicking in the marble floors and echoing among the walls that told centuries of history.
The exhibition of the Gyeongdong Dynasty was one the public have been waiting for a long time now. Curious as ever as to what item were you to purchase as preservation of cultural treasure as per your father's own political project.
There was something terribly familiar about the artefacts you saw kept in glass boxes. Historical treasures were kept intact, there was jewellery from noble families and even the royal families of the dynasty that were managed to be restored.
Paintings, clothes, old parchments, vases and even toys were all around the place. You walked over to the hallway where the artefacts of the royal families were kept. Ignoring the heaviness in your steps, the sourness in your heart, the odd feelings that clawed at your heart.
A big glass wall allowed you to witness the mesmerising view of the gardens, cherry blossoms in all their resplandor bloomed at the very background, pink petals decorated the outer grounds and a small fountain was at the centre of the small yet lovely garden that you felt a sudden urge to go to.
You watched it in silence. The soft and pink petals falling behind you with delicate motions. Spring had arrived. But your heart was frozen. Cold as it missed something you yearned for yet didn't know what it was or how to find it. An empty feeling that had lived within you for as long as you can remember.
With a sigh, you forced yourself to avert your eyes from the garden and focus back on the artefacts around the big room. You watched replicas of the dynasty's royal robes. A dress colour orange picked your attention the most, perhaps for its intriguing details or beautiful tailoring. Maybe because of the extravagant colour but you found yourself staring at it for quite some time. A heaviness weighing your heart down as you forced yourself to move forward from the dress you knew once belonged to a princess.
You passed the row of robes and dresses in glass cages, focusing on the paintings hanging on the walls with their respective description below.
First family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.
Second family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.
Third family of the Gyeongdong Dynasty.
And so on. It was mostly a man and a woman in the painting, some had children others did not. And you guessed they were the kings and queens of the long lost dynasty that brought the land to prosperity before the Goryeo dynasty started.
You stopped in front of a painting of a man and a woman, both quite beautiful in the art piece. The woman in the painting was holding a baby in her arms and you couldn't help but tilt your head slightly at the strange familiarity you felt towards the beautiful portrait.
There were no names of the people in the painting, the Gyeongdong Dynasty had suffered quite the loss of information when the palace caught fire during the last family of the bloodline. However, you couldn't stop staring at the woman in the portrait. You didn't know why, but it almost felt as if you were watching yourself in a mirror.
You felt as if you resembled her, as if your soul recognised her even when you hadn't seen such a portrait before. The man however made you nostalgic over their sad story.
According to the description of the painting, the man and the woman were married and had a son but she had died of a heart disease. He never remarried and historians said the queen was deeply loved by her husband.
The more you looked at the painting, the heavier your heart felt. It was a family portrait. A family portrait that told a sad story. It made your heart clench in your chest and you took a step back, as if the painting was cursed by the heavens and you had to walk away from it.
Perhaps you needed to stop taking that herbal tea Hoseok always pestered you to drink on an empty stomach.
You felt your stomach sink when you saw the next painting. You recognised the man from the last portrait. The young king. His queen was by his side in the large throne hall and all the officers stood in front of the throne in line. You saw a man, standing next to the queen that wore dark robes and had rough and large hands clasped in front of him.
It felt as if you were dreaming. Watching a movie or remembering something you had forgotten as images flooded in your mind and you found yourself drowning in the violent waters that was the mind.
---
A soft smile was plastered over your features while still facing him. However, he ignored what you said and commented, his voice a bit more distant than before.
"You will trip if you walk like that."
It was a statement rather than a possibility and that had you frowning up at him. If he was going to be like this then your little trips to the city and nearby villages were going to be a bit dull, at least until you got to your desired destination.
"I won't! I don't lik-"
But your sentence got cut off when, just as he predicted, you tripped with a small rock. You gasped when you felt your body being pulled down to the ground by gravity, the heavy skirts of your dress not allowing you to gain back your footing.
It was only when you felt a firm hand grasping yours and a pull over your body when you were back on your feet.
"I told you you would trip over."
Officer Jeon said, his voice cold and distant but you were able to catch a tinge of humour behind his words. A soft blush painted your cheeks when you realised he was still holding your hand in his surprisingly warm one.
Out of a sudden you felt shy, retrieving your hand from his grasp and taking a couple of steps away from him as you hadn't noticed just how close the two of you were a mere second ago.
"That... that was- it wouldn't... aish. I don't like for people to walk behind me, I feel like I'm being followed. Just... just do me the favour, could you? Just walk next to me, I promise you won't get in trouble."
He sighed, looking around before agreeing with a silent nod.
"And, thanks by the way. For not letting me fall down."
He bowed slightly, the both of you continuing your path down to the city.
"I was just doing my work, Princess."
You had to bite down on your lip to keep the smile from shining all over your face. He indeed took that vow to heart. You thought. Looking up at him, you noticed just how handsome your personal guard was and a warm sensation spread all over your body.
"So... tell me. What's your name? How would you like me to call you?"
Your question made him look down at you for a split second but you continued to watch him with curiosity. If he was going to always be with you, at least you could be friends?
"I am the First Officer of the Royal Guards, Jeon Jungkook. You can call me as you please, My Lady."
Jeon Jungkook.
---
"Thank you for coming with me to the city."
He bowed down at you, not saying a word. When he straightened back up he was met with the sight of you holding a small bag towards him.
"You can have them, you looked like you wanted some of them. I won't be able to finish them all anyway."
Jungkook took the bag from your hand hesitantly, his fingers brushing yours for a split second before the contact was broken.
"I appreciate your generosity, Princess. Rest well."
You smiled a little wider at him, your hands clasping in front of you.
"You rest as well, Jungkook."
With that being said you entered your room, sliding the door shut. Only when Jungkook saw that you had closed the door did he begin walking back to his own room.
---
"You have good skills but your posture can be improved."
At Jungkook's words you lifted your gaze, meeting his dark brown eyes with your own once more. He gestured towards your bow with his chin and asked, his voice gentle like a summer breeze.
"May I?"
You nodded, handing him your bow. The warmth of his fingers brushed yours and you had to bite back a smile. He crouched down and picked up the arrow that had fallen from your grasp a moment ago.
Jungkook positioned himself and you watched his every move.
"You are too tense while holding the bow, if your hold is firm but at the same time gentle it will give you stability."
You listened carefully to his explanations as your eyes were glued to him and for the first time since he became your personal guard were you able to admire him. Properly admire him.
Your gaze landed on his focused face, on how his eyes were put on the target mark and nothing else. Then, you travelled to his lips and marvelled on the way he was pulling back the arrow until it touched the corner of his lips softly. His jawline was defined as if it had been sculpted by the gods.
His broad shoulders carried years of training and you could see how his muscles could be traced even with more than one layer of clothing. His veiny hands held the bow and the arrow with expertise and you found yourself trapped in a trance in which only Jungkook existed.
He fired the arrow, hitting the target in its centre. You looked amazed at the clean shot he did and he commented, giving you back your bow.
"Would you like to try again, Princess?"
You nodded and took the bow. Jungkook walked where the rest of the arrows were and picked one up. He handed it to you and you took it softly from his grasp. You positioned the arrow and prepared yourself to shoot.
You silently gasped when you felt a large hand over your left one, the one holding the bow and it took you less than a second to realise it was Jungkook who was guiding you. You smelled his scent from behind you and felt the light pressure of his body at your back but it wasn't uncomfortable, on the contrary, you felt safe being this close to him. It was... Soothing, to say the least.
"You need to relax your hand a bit more."
Following his instructions, he smiled.
"Good, now take a deep breath. Straighten up a bit more and concentrate."
You did as you were told, closing your eyes and relishing in the comfort Jungkook provided. The warm feeling of his hand over yours was nearly overwhelming. The moment you opened your eyes again, the only thing you could focus on was the target. Letting go of the arrow, it travelled through the air with a mute noise and landed directly on the mark.
A gasp left your lips and Jungkook let go of your hand just as you turned around and looked up at him. Your smile showed pure happiness, a happiness he was responsible for and for some reason, that settled a spark of proudness in his chest.
---
"I care for you, Princess."
You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.
"You can't."
Whispered words reached his ears. Making his heart shake with the need to hold you, promise you that it was going to be alright.
"But I do."
You opened your eyes, looking at Jungkook through blurry vision. His eyes were filled with tears and you felt an ache in your heart at the sight of his tears.
"You weren't supposed to. You were only meant to protect me, Jungkook. That's it, nothing else."
He sighed, his eyes lowering to your trembling hands resting on your lap. He had a sudden urge to hold them. To hold you. To comfort you.
"I know. Love is blind, Princess. No-one gets to choose."
---
Your eyes were locked with his, not daring to break the eye contact that was grounding your thoughts, in a way at least.
"I'm begging you to put yourself in my shoes, it is not correct for me to write to you in such a way. Your fiancé is in the palace and you could get in trouble if someone finds out."
The way he said "you could get in trouble" not "me", not "we". It was you who he was worried about. His heart feared for you and the fact of such care brought tears to your eyes.
"It is not appropriate, Your Highness."
He bowed slightly at you, a lump forming in your throat as realisation hit you. You were losing him. You were losing the only man who could ever own your heart. The man you cared for over everyone else. The man you loved. You were losing your Jungkook but, was he really yours to begin with?
You could never claim yourself as his so no, he wasn't yours. He wasn't yours to love and care, he wasn't yours to be with you out of what was needed to be.
You took a deep breath, holding your head high and swallowing the lump in your throat. You were never going to say you loved him, you weren't going to put yourself in such pain. You didn't want his pity. The misery it'd come afterwards.
"You are right,"
This time, Jungkook flinched at your tone. Your words were void of any emotion, a sound that he used to know was as warm like the summer days felt now cold like winter.
"it is not right for us to write to each other. It will not happen again."
Even though that was what his mind desired for you to say, his heart hurt at your words. As if someone had just stabbed him directly in the heart. Your words had such an impact on him. Not because you were the Crown Princess but because he loved you. He loved you with all his body, soul and mind. He loved you more than love itself. But he knew the cruel reality. Jungkook knew that you both could never be together.
---
"Yes. You?"
He nodded. Not hearing the commotion from before. The intruders had been defeated by the remaining palace guards. He could hear Yoongi talking to the king about investigating the bloodbath that had just occurred in the throne room.
Jungkook looked down at you. The hand that once rested on your shoulder travelled down your arm until his fingers locked with yours, holding your hand and giving it a firm squeeze in reassurance.
But the moment was short-lived. The moment in which you lost yourself in his dark orbs and relished in the feeling of his touch as innocent and reassuring as was to hold your hand.
You saw, in a matter of milliseconds how his eyes shifted from you to something standing behind you. His sword clanked to the floor and his hand left yours, leaving it cold once more. You suddenly found yourself in his arms as he twisted you both. Being him who's back faced the entrance way.
You gasped at the motion. But nothing could have been worse than the pained groan he let out a mere second after he spun you around.
Tears gathered in your eyes when you saw one of the remaining intruders holding a bow, pointing it at you. Your eyes widened when you saw an arrow had pierced him on the back.
"Jungkook!"
He began to slump forward and you did your best to ease his fall. The hand that held the bow you had used to defend yourself clattered to the floor as you knelt on the ground, while Jungkook nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck.
Jimin, who stood next to the entrance way, had seen everything unfold before his eyes. He was quick to run towards the last intruder and kill him with his own sword before he turned back to you and watched how you held Jungkook in your embrace.
"Jungkook! Stay awake, you have to stay awake! Do you hear me? Jungkook!"
---
“I just remembered,”
He stood up, his hands leaving your grasp and you felt them cool down without the warmth of Jungkook’s large hands over your own. Your gaze followed him while he searched in one of his drawers until he pulled something out and walked back to you. 
“I made you something for your birthday but with everything that happened, I never got the chance to give it to you.”
You were glad you were sitting, if not, you would have probably fainted with the amount of love you had for this man. Had he really made you something despite the terms you were in before the engagement ceremony? Did he really love you that much?
Of course he did. 
When Jungkook loved, he loved with all his heart. And right now, you were the owner of that heart of his. He gave it to you without a second thought and his little actions kept proving it to you over and over again. He grabbed your left wrist and you looked down, watching as he tied a red braided bracelet around your skin. He tightened it with the perfect amount of force, tight enough for it to not fall but not that strong that it would hurt your precious skin. 
“Do you like it?”
You couldn’t take your eyes off his gift. It was a beautifully braided bracelet with small pearls in it. 
“It’s perfect.”
You whispered. Afraid that if you spoke any louder the moment would be ruined. His heart skipped a beat with your words.
“No-one has ever given me such a beautiful gift. Thank you, Jungkook.”
He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat and looking away. But you were having none of that so you, once more, grabbed his hand and made him look at you. Your (e/c) eyes met his big doe ones and you said, with tears prickling at the corner of your eyes.
“Thank you, Jungkook. For everything.”
He smiled, a warm smile that made butterflies go wild in your stomach. 
“You are very welcome, my princess.”
---
"Aren't you cold?"
That voice he enjoyed so much reached his ears, making him look up at you. He smiled. Shutting the book as his arm rested next to him. Your feet crunched the snow below as you made your way towards him.
"Not really, princess. I kept myself busy."
You smiled. Looking up at him as your hands clasped themselves in front of you.
"Aren't you cold, Your Highness?"
His voiced concern made your heart flutter. You feared he could hear just how fast your heart was beating inside your chest.
"No, I just came from taking a walk with the Crown Prince."
Jungkook kept his gaze on you yet you were aware how something flashed in his eyes at the mention of your future husband. It was there in those dark orbs you loved to get yourself lost into, a second in which he let his emotions take control over him. Where he was vulnerable to your watchful eyes.
But it was gone as you blinked. He gave you no time to question whatever you had seen in his gaze as he asked you next.
"Are you ready for your wedding day?"
The atmosphere turned sombre. As if clouds had hidden the sun of a summer day during tea time. Soft snowflakes began falling from the darkening skies in a soft motion. Delicately even.
"You know I'm not. How could I?"
The smile that once adorned Jungkook's handsome features was now gone. A sad look covered his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that."
You took a deep breath. The little bubble of happiness and freedom he provided was now popped and you were brought to the harsh reality. You didn't say anything but you could feel his eyes on you as the both of you walked slowly through your private gardens.
The playful and innocent mood like a summer breeze had been clouded by the cold winds of winter. Of reality.
---
"You came."
You breathed out. Not really believing he was standing there, in front of you when you were literally getting married tomorrow.
"You called."
Jungkook answered. A fond smile was painted over his pink lips. His eyes twinkled with happiness upon seeing you. His hand reached forward in an unconscious manner. But he paused his motion before his palm graced your cheeks with his loving touch.
He lowered his arm and cleared his throat. Speaking once more to break the silence that fell between you two.
"I will not ask how you managed to send that note to me, Princess."
You let out a short laugh, blessing his ears with such a pure sound. A melody his heart cherished more than life itself.
"I have my ways, Officer Jeon."
He snorted at that, his frame relaxing in your presence as he leaned his side to the tree. His eyes never leave your own.
"Can't you call me by my name, Jungkook? Just once?"
Your plea made his eyes harden. You asked for the impossible but you desired more than oxygen to hear your name in his voice. That sweet voice that lived in your mind rent-free. That would console you in your memories when you were sad and would bring a smile upon your face in the most random times of the day.
"I cannot, Your Highness. It is against His Majesty's order to address you improperly."
You frowned.
"Even if I am asking you that?"
He sighed. A hand running though his dark hair. How you wished you could run your own hands through his locks. You could bet on your life they were as soft as cotton.
"I can't, princess. I'm sorry."
Silence stretched between you both. Somehow, the air felt colder, breathing got more challenging upon your rejected request.
"Why did you want to see me? Did you miss me that much?"
Jungkook said, trying to lighten the mood. A playful smirk over his lips. You looked up at him, your eyes as transparent as the lake's water; revealing your soul.
"I don't know if you'll want to speak to me after I say what's been on my mind for the last two days."
He lifted an eyebrow at your response. Curiosity got the best of him as he took a step away from the tree, now standing fully in front of you. The soft snow continues to dance around you.
"It can't be that bad, now can it? Just tell me, Princess."
You took a deep breath, your pulse quickening. This was it. The opportunity to speak your mind. To reveal your most intimate desire to him.
"I don't want to get married, Jungkook. I don't want to marry the Crown Prince. Jimin is worthy of the throne but... I don't love him."
He remained silent. His eyes turned from playful to serious the moment you mentioned your marriage. And he listened. He listened with all his attention to each word that left your lips.
"I can't marry a man I don't love. I want... I want to be with you. It is you who I want to marry, to spend the rest of my time with. Only you can make me happy, Jungkook and it breaks my heart every time I am reminded you won't be at the other end of the altar tomorrow."
Tears began to cloud your vision. But you tried to blink them back. This was what you had been trying to say to him. Yet your most desired thing in the word was still to get revealed.
"I want to leave, I want to leave this place, Kookie. I don't want to be a princess if it means I cannot be yours entirely. I burn for you, in every extent of the word. I cannot breathe when you are not near, I cannot think when I cannot see you close to me. You are everything to me."
A lump began forming in his throat. He felt exactly the same. Jungkook was glad you spoke of this first, you revealed your soul to him, your thoughts, your heart. You needed him. You lived with him, for him. It'd be a pointless life if you couldn't share it with him, he saw that now.
But the surprise when he heard you next couldn't be hidden even if he had wished to do so.
"I want to run away with you, Jungkook. "
---
"What are you doing outside at this hour, Jungkook?"
He untangled his hands from behind him and let them rest by his side, his eyes never leaving yours. Not knowing how his gaze alone was enough to make your heart thump wildly inside you.
"I couldn't sleep. I'll assume you are here because of the same reason."
You nodded, he took a step forward and your breath hitched in your throat. The action of inhaling was already painful as the air was cold, as cold as your neglected heart. Was he really going to take the risk of being this close to you? Another step. Perhaps he was. Then another. He certainly was.
It wasn't until he stood so close to you that you could feel his warm breath dust over your cold cheeks that you silently gasped and took a step back on instinct.
If anyone saw you both, there'd be problems. You didn't want that, not for Jungkook at least.
"And because I missed you. I had to see you. You do not only own this kingdom, you own my heart too and I couldn't live another day without seeing you, my Queen. For you are the one who rules my heart and soul."
You savoured the way his sweet words sprinkled your sour soul with sugar. It was delicious. To think that you were his, that he loved you, that he thought of you, dreamed of you. That he wanted you, perhaps even more strongly than how you wanted him.
You allowed yourself to drown in his sweet words. If only for a moment. Just a moment. A minute. A second would suffice. You didn't ask for more. You didn't want more. The only thing that you needed was his love and he gave it to you on a silver tray.
"Do you really want me that much?"
He nearly flinched at the way your voice was so soft, delicate even. Carrying emotions that were only reflected in your eyes.
"I want you with every fibre of my body and I can't stop thinking about that day. The day when you wanted to leave this place, I only want you to know that if the circumstances had been different, I would have escaped with you but taking you with me only meant death. I would rather die every day for not having you by my side than being the reason for your demise. I love you too much to do that to you."
You didn't realise you were crying until he reached his hand to wipe the tears but you took a step back. Hurt flashed in his eyes and that alone was enough for more tears to roll down your cheeks.
"You can't touch me, Jungkook. Not without the King's permission. Not even in an innocent way."
Your mumbled words reached his ears and he lowered his hand, he clenched it in a tight fist by his side but you didn't notice. Not when your eyes were glued to his own.
"And I understand why you didn't run away with me. I love you too much to get you killed. I'm so sorry I even proposed it on the first place."
His own eyes reflected the sadness in his soul in the form of tears. They glistened under the moonlight, little tears that he refused to let go; to set free.
"Do you really want me that much?"
A question you had already asked. A question he had already answered.
"Do you really want me that much, Jungkook? Even when I am another man's woman?"
He had to physically hold himself back so as to not take another step towards you. It pained him. His feet ached. His heart ached. It was painful to have you so close yet so far away at the same time yet he knew it had been like that since those warm summer days. Since the very beginning of the forbidden love story you developed with your royal guard.
Even when I am another man's woman...
Those words would repeat themselves in his head until the end of his days. A tear rolled down Jungkook's cheek, the chilly air hitting him and making him shiver.
You weren't his. Not anymore. You had never been his. At least not in this lifetime.
"You could never be tainted for me. You are and will always be perfect to hold my heart in your hands. And in our next life you will be mine, and if not in our next one or our next one after that. "
---
"Congratulations, Your Majesty."
Your steps halted when you heard his voice. A big banquet was held to announce your pregnancy to the village. Your father had come to bless you himself, he even told you he'd be staying during the last trimester of the pregnancy as he didn't want to miss the moment his grandchild were to be born.
You could only smile at that thought. But a gulp in your throat upon hearing that voice dissipated the thought, like fog when the sun came out. You turned around, eyes meeting with Jungkook's dark orbs.
A soft smile graced your lips yet he noticed how it didn't reach your eyes.
"Thank you, Jungkook."
There were so many things unsaid between you both. But have words ever been enough? He could see the sadness in your soul, the remorse, the longing and the love that existed in you. How Jungkook wished to go back to those summer days when everything was perfect, when you were happy along with him. When there existed no such barrier between you two of you being married to another man.
You could see it too, how his posture was tense, his eyes sharp with swirling storms of emotions in his dark gaze. You felt the yearning, the pain, the heartbreak from his part. And it crushed your heart even more for you knew he loved you but Jungkook couldn't step closer to you. Literally and figuratively.
He didn't know what else to say, all the courage he had managed to gather in the ceremony was gone now. Leaving him standing before you. His Queen; owner of his heart.
"I do not wish for this encounter to be like the last one, my queen. I only hope that you find the happiness you deserve for I cannot express how proud I am of you. Your child will resemble you in many ways, I am sure of it."
You wanted to run to him, hold his hand and wipe the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. But you could not. Dare not step such boundaries for his sake.
"You must find your happiness too, Jungkook. Live your life and live it right so that we can meet in our next lifetime."
---
A sharp pain made you gasp as your knees hit the floor, your dress puffing out around you. Jungkook was by your side the next second, concern was written all over his face while worry filled his eyes.
"Your Majesty, what's wrong? Please, talk to me."
You took a deep breath between your gasps and whimpers. Your hand grabbed his in your pain-induced mind, trying to ground yourself onto something, someone.
"I-It hurts... Jungkook, it h-hurts."
Your water broke the next second but you felt as if there was something wrong, this was not how a natural birth was supposed to start.
"Please... something's wrong. It- it hurts so much."
Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to suppress the scream that threatened to escape your throat. You felt him let go of your hand, positioning his arms beneath your kneeling figure only to be lifted by him the next second.
Your arms circled his neck on instinct as you curled yourself in his hold. Jungkook began walking back to the palace at a fast pace, the weight of your body grounded his mind while at the same time numbed his senses. If you hadn't been in so much pain at that moment you would have noticed how his hands were trembling.
"Hold on, my Queen. You'll be fine, I'm here. It's alright."
He cradled you against his chest firmly, not wanting to let you go ever again now that you were in his arms. His heart feared for your safety, you were only eight months pregnant by now, he knew the risks of pregnancy and Jungkook knew he wouldn't be able to live if something were to happen to you.
Tears soaked his robes, your hand fisted his collar. Your small whimpers were like poisonous needles piercing his heart. It hurt. It pained him to see you in so much distress.
"Hold on, love. Please."
---
"You called for me, Your Majesty."
He bowed down at you and you sighed, realising how much you hated when he bowed at you when you'd go on your knees with only a word falling from his lips. He had that power over you. That way to command you. To make you feel.
"Jungkook."
The man before you lifted his gaze and your eyes met his once more. Had it been within any other circumstances, you'd have smiled and ran toward him. How you wish you could embrace him, how you wish you could kiss him and declare your love for him. How you wish you could love him freely.
You were sitting between blankets and cushions, taking rest after the hard labour. The prince lied next to you as he slept soundly while being wrapped up in luxurious fabric.
"I haven't seen you in a while."
He smiled. Not that smile that reached his eyes or that warmed your insides. It made you shiver with the sadness within it. Like a cold breeze on a winter day.
"I was told you were to rest, my Queen. Captain Min ordered me to give you some space, at least until you are feeling better."
You smiled, gesturing for him to sit in front of you, which he did. A moment of silence passed between you both. Your gaze lingered on his handsome features, drawing a map of him in your mind.
"I missed you."
He sighed at your whispered confession. Those words clawed at his heart with nothing but a heavy guilt that existed within him.
"My Queen... please."
You took a deep breath at his pleading, his begging. You looked aside as your heart constricted in your chest.
"Forgive me."
He looked at you with eyes full of emotions you weren't quick enough to grasp. Why must love hurt so much? Jungkook shifted his gaze from your figure, focusing on the little bundle where the prince, your son, slept peacefully.
"Congratulations on your baby. May prince Ha-joon live a long and happy life with his family."
---
"Kook!"
Ha-joon had said. Your hands felt cold against the warm cup, your soul froze when you looked up. There he was. Jeon Jungkook. You hadn't seen him in days. And before today there were only small peaks here and there followed by short greetings.
Jungkook turned to look at you, your eyes met his from across the garden. You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mere sight of him. Your hands trembled around the cup, forcing you to put it away.
He bowed down at you slowly yet his eyes never left yours. Emotions invaded your body as you stood up from your chair. Hoseok noticed your actions and sat up, Ha-joon left his side and ran with his little legs where Jungkook was.
Your royal guard smiled down at your son and Hoseok stood up from the ground, walking the steps to where you stood.
"Your Majesty, are you alright? You look pale, should I walk you to your chambers?"
But you shook your head, your eyes following Jungkook's figure as he approached you with Ha-joon by his side. The little prince was telling him something that you couldn't hear and he smiled widely. Flashed him that bunny smile you loved so much and had missed just as fiercely.
Jungkook bowed down at you once he stood in front of you. Ha-joon looked up at the man next to him and mimicked his actions. Your heart clenched at the sight. Having the man you loved and your child who was your husband's son before you was too much for your heart.
It clenched inside you, it burned, it ached.
"Your Majesty."
Jungkook acknowledged you. You nodded softly at him and he rose to his full height. Ha-joon doing the same.
"Kook! Play, together."
Hoseok watched the interaction from where he stood. His own heart clenched at the sight of your hidden pain. You have always been an open book for your best friend. You had been able to hide your love from your father, even from your husband but not from Hoseok. He had known you his entire life. He knew you, he knew the core of your heart. He knew your unspoken words. He knew.
"Only if the queen allows it, my prince."
Jungkook's eyes found yours once more. A sad smile painted his lips. Ha-joon was a clear resemblance of you but also of his father and Jungkook was reminded once more of what he had lost the day you married Jimin. Of that dream that he wished would become his reality was instead a mountain of ashes. Of burnt dreams and wishes.
You smiled tightly at the pair in front of you, not wanting to deny sweet Ha-joon of his free days and innocent happiness.
"You may play, but please be careful."
---
"Jungkook."
His name coming from your lips was the sweetest melody he has ever heard. He had missed it. He had missed you. His eyes locked with yours and he nearly gasped at the sight of you laying on the soft bedding, your skin was paler than usual, your eyes were tired and your body was beyond weakened.
"Your Majesty."
He acknowledged you. Bowing softly at you without tearing his gaze from you. He saw you shift in your position, laying on your left side so you could see him properly. You smiled and in an instant his dark world was lightened by your existence. 
"Come closer, Jungkook. Come here."
Your hand extended towards him as if trying to reach him. He couldn't hold himself back any longer upon your innocent request as his legs moved with a mind of their own. Nearly jumping until he was kneeling by your side, his hand holding yours ever so softly.
“I heard… I heard that you are sick, my Queen. Is it true?”
Jungkook asked almost shyly. Not meeting your eyes as his own gaze was fixed on your joined hands. 
“It is.”
He sighed at your response. Feeling how his heart clenched within him. Tears watered his dark eyes and a lump grew in your throat at the sight of his sadness. 
“Don’t cry, Jungkook. Don’t waste your tears over me.”
He looked up at you, his expression hurt with your words. A frown was between his brows, eyes watered with his materialised sadness and a soul that he could no longer carry on his own. 
“How can you say that to me? I am dying with you, my Queen. Only you are capable of causing me the greatest pain yet it is you who eradicates it as well.”
You squeezed his hand, feeling your chest aching. Your mind was shutting down as you gazed at the man you loved with your entire being. 
“Forgive me.”
He shook his head, refusing to let his tears roll down his cheeks as his eyes roamed over your face as if trying to memorise all your little details in his mind. 
“It is I who should beg for forgiveness. I cannot protect you from this, I have failed you. I cannot prevent you from leaving me.”
A tear left the corner of your eye as you looked at him with so many unsaid things and raging emotions you were never able to pour out. It was too much. Too much love. Too much longing. Too much sadness. Too much anger. Your heart couldn’t take it any more.
“Maybe you can’t make me stay, but you gave me the opportunity of knowing what it was to love. Even when we couldn’t be together in the end, I still love you. I will always love you, Jungkook. In each… in each lifetime.”
A choked gasp left your lips as the memory dissipated from your mind like morning fog during a summer day. You didn't even realise you were crying until you sniffled and your hand came up to your face and your skin was wet with your own liquid sadness.
What kind of dream was this? What kind of cruelty had fate bestowed upon you? What kind of crime did you commit to feel this pain? You had loved, you had been loved only for it to melt like ice in those warm summer days when everything was perfect. You couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips as the realisation hit you:
You were the queen of the portrait. A representation of your old soul trapped in your past life as the unfortunate lover.
It wasn't a dream. It was a memory. Your memories from your past life and that love you were once denied to have. 
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Hoseok was nearing the hall of ancient artefacts when his phone rang and he stopped in his tracks. Jungkook halted beside him and waited in silence.
"I'm sorry, I have to take this. I left Miss (y/n) at the end of this hall. You shouldn't have difficulty finding her."
Jungkook bowed softly, his warm eyes meeting the ones of Hoseok as he spoke in his professional voice once more.
"Don't worry, Mr. Jung. I'll do my best to assist her."
Hoseok nodded before he accepted the call and walked away, leaving Jungkook to sigh to himself before he ventured on the journey of finding the eccentric politician's daughter.
He walked among the centuries of history around him, through the halls that held art and a lost empire through time. Something about his line of work had always intrigued him. It made him wonder just how insignificant life was. Years, decades and centuries of history, of people that once walked on this Earth were now kept in glass boxes, a strange way of trying to preserve what should have died years ago.
It made him think about all the lives, all the deaths, all the heartbreaks from the past. All those untold stories buried in time. In every aspect, in every lifetime, in every way. It was simply melancholic to acknowledge all the history around him.
Jungkook walked, allowing his mind to wander as he thought of the beautiful politician's daughter. He thought of the times he had seen her, seen you in important events. Always looking so beautiful, always captivating the media. Always perfect, always next to your powerful father.
He reached the end of the hall but there was no sight of you. A sudden tightness gripped his heart fiercely, as if he were in pain, as if someone clutched his heart in its claws and it bled out.
As if on instinct, Jungkook walked to the royal hall. His feet moved on their own, his mind spiralled with all kinds of thoughts. With dream-like memories that he would have sworn were from one of those historical dramas he knew were popular among the hopeless romantics.
The sound of a sob echoed over the walls and it was as painful as being stabbed on the heart. He turned around with urgency only to spot you looking at a painting, your back was facing him while your left hand covered your mouth.
"Miss (y/n)?"
Your eyes widened when you heard that voice. That voice that was lost in your thoughts. That voice that was from your forgotten memories. That same voice that had broken your heart was now stitching it back together.
You turned around, your misty eyes met his in a dance of emotions you were, for once, able to dance along. Pink petals from the cherry blossoms in the garden behind fell slowly and when your eyes locked with Jungkook's he saw it as well.
He saw everything. All those memories, all those experiences. He saw his love. His sadness. His life. His reason for living. His flower. His darling. All in ancient history.
Jungkook saw his past life with you.
Like a movie in front of his eyes. A dream he wanted to reach. A memory he had promised to not forget but time was cruel and it was buried in the depths of his soul.
"Jungkook? It's you, isn't it?"
Your voice brought him back from his forgotten memories. He looked at you with a familiarity and a strangeness in his eyes. It was enough to make tears roll down your cheeks while his own eyes watered at the impossible sight before him.
"...princess? H-how?...."
You sobbed and he walked toward you. Unable to resist the sight of your tears. Perhaps this was the first time he met you in this lifetime but your souls have been in love for centuries. Your heart hadn't changed, his feelings remained the same. Love cannot be killed, not even by death.
He stood at arms length, eyes gazing down at you with the urge to know the truth. To know if you were that missing piece in his life. To know if this lifetime was worth-living.
"You found me. You said you'd find me."
Was this a dream? Was this a false memory? Was this real? He deeply needed for it to be real. Jungkook felt whole when he looked down at you. As if you were the missing piece for this puzzle called life. And you? You didn't know if he still wanted you. If Jungkook was your Jungkook. Your lost lover. Your forbidden romance. Your unfinished story.
"In every lifetime, princess."
His hand flexed next to him with the urge to touch you. To hug you and never let you go. To kiss you. To finally kiss you after all those denied moments he had before. To love you like he had dreamt long ago.
You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand and something on your wrist caught his attention. It was a subtle glimpse of a red string around your wrist and he knew, in that moment he knew.
"You still wear it huh?"
A smile appeared on your lips at the same words he had spoken to you. A long time ago. Once upon a dream. In another lifetime. And the same answer is what he got. The same words that you had replied to him. The answer to his lovely sentence.
"I never took it off."
He was referring to your red bracelet. Something you remember always having, never truly knowing how you got to possess such a beautiful item but it simply felt right to wear it. So you did, you never took it off. As if it was engraved in your skin, almost like Jungkook's name was written in your soul and his whispered love was locked away in your heart.
"Can... Can I hold you?"
There was desperation in his voice. It sounded almost bitter that it pulled on your heartstrings. You nodded almost immediately. Burning just as him to feel him once more, to touch the man you had missed for centuries. To be held by your one and only love.
You were in his arms the next second. His hands pressed you against his chest as your own circled his waist. A long lost hug. A missed love. A romance out of time. But it was a timeless love nonetheless.
Something clicked inside you once you were held by Jungkook. As if your heart had been filled with his life, as if your broken soul was stitched back with just his simple touch. As if memories had been unlocked after your skin touched his.
"I missed you. I missed you so much, queen of my heart."
His hold on you tightened and you couldn't help but bury your face in his chest. How he had wished to do this in his first lifetime. How he wished he had been able to hold you like this. How he wished he had had you before just like this.
All the pain was gone. The tears were dried by his love. His hands held your heart so softly and purely you didn't want to part from him. You couldn't. You wouldn't. You wouldn't let go of him like that once more. You weren't going to lose him again. Not after all that pain, all that heartbreak, all those tears and all that yearning. Not again. Never again.
"I missed you too. So much, so much..."
Jungkook rested his chin at the top of your head, closing his eyes as he held you softly but firmly. It made him wonder just how much time you had been robbed in your past life. He realised just how evil fate had been to break you both like that. To separate two lovers is the worst cruelty of this fallen world.
But now, those cold days are over. Winter had passed. Even after centuries of living buried in the freezing snow, warmth had finally touched his heart. The soft rays of the sun were melting his once frozen soul. Your love did that. Only with you was he able to live in warmth. Only with you existed that flame in his heart that kept him alive.
You looked up at him and he met your gaze midway. It was magical. To look at the eyes you had unknowingly missed so much. How your soul was mourning the loss of Jungkook, how your life was always grey and cold was now warm and coloured in pink. Like the petals falling behind you.
One of his hands cradled your cheek and you smiled. Your heart was beating wildly in your heart at the proximity, at the love, at the emotions that came flooding like a waterfall from the sky.
You stood on your tippy toes only to press your lips against his. It was soft, delicate. Like a spring breeze. A kiss full of love. A healing kiss. A kiss that should have happened a long time ago. Jungkook kissed you back, burning at the feeling of your soft lips against his.
He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and you sighed, tightening your grip around his waist as he poured all those long lost emotions into that kiss. A kiss he had wished he could give you centuries ago. All the love, all the yearning, all the heartbreak, all the feelings of missing you, missing your warmth, your love, your touch, your existence were poured into that kiss.
A sealed kiss of timeless love.
"Don't ever leave me again."
He whispered against your lips. voice desperate with the promise of your love. Of your devotion. Of eternity.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Your answer was said in a soft voice, only meant for Jungkook to hear. He pressed his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes as he felt the memories slowly come back to him. During those golden summer days, rainy autumn evenings and cold winter nights. Everything about his life with you came back like a soft spring drizzle over his soul.
Perhaps fate had been cruel when he separated you from your Jungkook with death. But it now gave you the opportunity with your rightful lover. That soulmate you were destined to love since the very beginning of life.
Through life and death, only time gets in between. Through tears and pain, it is love that keeps the hope alive and through silent feelings and absent minds; it is time that keeps them together in a dance with a melody only meant for the tangled lovers to hear.
In every lifetime, in every way, in every universe and in every season. Love is stronger than death. 
February/16/2024
~Masterpost
Please let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings!
**I do NOT give my consent for this or any of my works to be posted or translated into any other platforms or languages. 
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avocado-writing · 5 months
Text
Kinktober 16
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16. Speech/Movement Restriction, Body Worship (Genitals), Vampires/Werewolves
“Aziraphale? Crowley?”
“In the back, love.”
You walk into the bookshop’s kitchenette and find your angel making a cup of tea. As if he knew exactly when you’d walk through the door, he passes you a mug of oolong and a kiss at the same time.
“How was your day, my dear?”
“Atrocious. Every day it feels like we’re fighting for our lives. Do you know how bad off museums are with that witch in power at the moment? Honestly I’m glad to just be home with you.”
You step into his open arms and bury your face into his shoulder, sighing in happiness as he presses his lips to your neck. 
“Anyway, are we still on for the theatre this evening, angel?”
“Absolutely. I got us front row seats for the opening of Phantom of the Opera tonight!”
You grin at his excitement, then notice a distinctive lack of complaining about, well, going to the theatre tonight. 
“Hang on, where’s Crowley?”
“Oh,” says Aziraphale, a devilish grin creeping over his face, “he’s been naughty I’m afraid. You’ll find him upstairs.”
You take your cue to go and have a look. You find Crowley tied to the bed, spread out and tied with silk scarves to each of the four posters. The gag in his mouth makes it impossible for him to speak and he grunts, half in irritation and half in desperation when he sees you. You approach him and remove it, allowing him to talk. 
“Finally. I thought you’d never get home.”
“And why are you all trussed up like this, eh?”
“All I said was that I didn’t want to go and see Phantom, and Aziraphale—”
“You didn’t say you didn’t want to see it,” Aziraphale calls, “you kept going on about it all day, at length, until I got fed up with you.”
“Aah, I see,” you hum. Crowley opens his mouth to keep going and you use the opportunity to shove the gag back in place. He baulks and tries to keep talking, but finds himself unable to. You cross over to the bedside drawer and pick out your newest vibrator; take your time to rig it up to press against his tight arsehole and switch it on. 
Crowley shrieks against his gag. You’re sure he’s swearing beneath it. 
“Aziraphale, shall we go out for dinner too?”
“Oh that sounds lovely.”
You leave Crowley thrashing in the bedroom. You won’t keep him there all night, of course… but a couple of hours should teach him a lesson.
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blurredcolour · 5 months
Text
The Night Moves | Part Four
The Night Moves Masterlist
Alternate Universe
Vampire Hunterl!Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader; Vampire!Jacob Seresin x Female Reader
Summary: An internship with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History should have been the highlight of your academic career. The perfect addition to your resume while you worked on your doctoral thesis. An interdepartmental assignment, however, sees your reality ripped apart by incomprehensible forces. Five tumultuous days will leave you forever changed and inextricably linked to two men born centuries apart.
Warnings: Angst, Language, Violence, Blood, Major Character Death, Serious Reader Injury, Supernatural Themes, Historical Inaccuracies, Institutional Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only
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Author's Note: My Halloween party got crashed by COVID so surprise! Here is the second-last installment a few days early. Please be advised that two men go into this chapter and only one makes it out. You Have Been Warned!!
Word Count: 3933
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-Friday-
Waking the next morning to news of more murders in the neighborhood, it was no surprise that Bradley had insisted on driving you into work. It had not made the drive any less awkward, however. Loaded silence pervaded the apartment while you ate a quick breakfast and followed you into the Bronco until he had eventually surrendered to turning on the radio. You had parted with a barely audible ‘thanks’ at the curb before hurrying into work, not wanting to spend another moment in forced to be in his proximity. Tears had already broken through your resolve after you shut the bedroom door last night and you would have been loathe to give him the satisfaction of seeing fresh ones today.
Despite your intentions when declining Amira’s invite the night before, you had not taken that bath nor gone to bed early. Nor had your sleep been of any quality. Thankfully she arrived armed with an extensive make-up kit, nearly double the size of the one you had thrown into your bag that morning, and dedicated nearly all of the thirty minutes you had to get ready on making you look quite presentable. The bandage on your wrist was explained away easily as a cooking accident, though as Bradley predicted, it itched terribly. Utilizing the single-stalled washroom across the hall, you slid into the floor-length gown she had lent you, smoothing it over your curves.
You took a moment to appreciate the way the colour of it brought out your eyes. To marvel at the skill of Amira’s make-up. You looked good – vampire hunters plagued by latent professionalism be damned. Taking a deep breath and setting your chin at a confident angle you stepped out of the washroom to allow Amira a chance to change as well before the pair of you hurried to Flag Hall. Waiting there for you was the box of five hundred pouches, ready to be set out at each of the place settings on the banquet tables. Under the watchful eye of Caroline from Resource Development, one pouch was set at the top of each place, resting against the menu card, until three hundred and fifty were put out. The remainder would be given as gifts to the staff volunteering their time and a few select guests attending the cocktail hour but not staying for the seated dinner.
With that duty discharged, you were then seated at the registration table, assigned to different portions of the alphabet. You were responsible for checking in guests with last names from S to Z. The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of greetings and checking off names before the four lists were consolidated down to one. You and Amira were released from your obligations to go enjoy the remainder of the cocktail party and she quickly disappeared into the crowd.
Snagging a glass of one from one of the circling trays, you took a fortifying sip of wine before seeking out someone you knew, grateful when one of the department heads pulled you into a conversation already in progress with a few generous donors. Disappointingly, you found your tolerance for answering the same questions, discussing the same topics, having the same conversation repeatedly as you circulated the room wore thin with shocking speed. Instead, a scream began to build in the back of your throat, begging to be unleashed, and you set your second empty wine glass down on a nearby table with a touch more force than intended before quickly making your way from the hall.
Because whatever was about to fly out of your mouth – the truth that Bradley had revealed to you last night, or perhaps your sheer frustration with him for his lack of transparency whilst toying with your affections, or better yet how frivolous this gala felt in the face of the dead bodies that seemed to be falling in your wake…well more accurately Jacob’s wake as he followed you – it most certainly did not need an audience.
Making your way through the locked doors with your swipe card back to the sanctity of your workspace, you felt the urge to wail lessen the further you got away from the crowd. The frantic pace of your steps eased. Perhaps it was just time to go home. Sighing the last of the tension from your body, you opened the door to the intern office and nearly tripped over your dress as the long-legged lieutenant sat, swivelling idly in your computer chair.
“Ah.” He grinned broadly and stood smoothly, obviously having been waiting for you. His eyes raked over your form as he drank in your appearance. “You look truly divine this evening, pet.”
Stumbling backward, you winced as the harsh edges of the door frame jabbed into your shoulder blade. “What are you doing in here…how did you…” Your pulse rabbited in your throat as it felt terribly difficult to take a deep breath. His clothing had changed – a dress shirt that fit him perfectly, hinting at the musculature that lay beneath, and a pair of black slacks with a charcoal grey pea coat hanging open over top. No doubt stolen from one of the many corpses he had been leaving in your neighborhood, your mind supplied, causing your palms to grown damp with fear.
“Easy, pet, I missed you. There is no need to be quite so afraid.” Jacob soothed, stepping closer.
You shook your head violently. “I know what you are.” You hissed and pressed tighter to the door frame, away from him, legs wobbling slightly beneath your dress. You glanced behind him to your desk where your phone was locked away in a drawer…Bradley might as well have been on the moon for how easily you could reach him now. Yet thinking of your usual savior also brought with it a new bitterness that had you furrowing your brows.
“Then you know what I want.” Jacob murmured, stalking closer to trail a frigid forefinger down your cheek.
Your eyes flicked to his face, focusing on his unnaturally luminous green eyes as you swallowed nervously. “Were,” you began, hesitated, but set your jaw in determination and continued, “were you really there?”
He arched an eyebrow, silently prompting you to expound on your question.
“During the War of Independence?” You clarified, sinking your teeth into your lower lip anxiously as he was awfully close and more than a little lethal.
His eyes glinted ominously as he seized upon something you desired. “I most certainly was. Born in 1760, came of age in the thick of it. Why do you ask?” He tilted his head in feigned innocence.
You exhaled shakily, trying desperately to smother your excitement at the idea of a firsthand source for a long passed historical era. Yet as you attempted to focus on Bradley’s warning that the man who had lived through that time period had been murdered to give birth to the creature before you, all you felt was the sting of his rejection. The questions you longed to pose to the lieutenant were endless. Right before you was a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn from someone who had been there.
“You are fairly teeming with questions, are you not, pet?” There was a derogatory edge to his tone. A smugness at having sniffed out something you desired. “The information only I could provide would certainly be quite the feather in your cap. Surely would secure your place within this palace of stolen things.” He smirked, drawing your gaze to his striking white teeth.
Reluctantly, you nodded, lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. “Yes.” You admitted in a hushed whisper after a moment.
“It seems to me, darling, that we have an opportunity before us. There is something that I greatly desire from you…” He paused, eyes taking a moment to drink in the column of your throat. “…and you in kind from myself. Shall we not make a deal?” He raised an eyebrow.
Alarm bells rung distantly in your consciousness as your hands fisted into the fabric of your dress, awareness of his true nature warring with the desire to learn all that you could from him. A war taking place on an internal battlefield muddled by whatever mental impairment his very presence seemed to inflict upon you. The sound of a door opening down the hall jarred both of you and he looked to you sharply.
“Might we take this somewhere more private?” He asked hurriedly.
“Not my house.” You replied reflexively, able to keep some sense of clarity and recall Bradley’s insistence from the night before. “A hotel.” You nodded to yourself before pushing off the doorframe, past the lieutenant, and toward your desk.
Grabbing a fresh notebook, your phone, extra charger, and shoving it all into your bag, you threw on your jacket before leading him out the delivery entrance. Purposefully avoiding any and all prying eyes – particularly Bradley’s. As you walked, you retrieved your phone to pull up a hotel booking site, snagging a last-minute deal on a room a few blocks away. It was by no means glamorous – a dated, two-star hotel, but all you needed was a place to make a deal with a murderous creature. You did not need to also break the bank to do it.
Fog swirled around the hem of your dress with each step you took as you glanced around nervously, for once hoping not to see any trace of Bradley Bradshaw. The humidity had combined with the frigid air to create an unsettling ambience and the fact that a murderer was following hot on your heels did nothing to ease your tension. You were surprised the grip you held on the pen whilst signing in at the hotel did not cause the writing implement to snap in half. The front desk clerk, mercifully, made no comment on the absence of any and all luggage, handing over the room key with no more than directions to the elevators.
The key chain bearing the room number jangled in your hand as you struggled to align it with the lock, eventually sliding it home and opening the door to a cramped, musty room with a queen size bed and small desk. Jacob slid out of his jacket, finding a hanger in the tiny closet to place it on before reaching a hand out in silent offer to do the same with yours.
You shook your head quickly in refusal and stepped over to the desk, pulling out the chair and perching on the edge of it apprehensively. Jacob chuckled easily and sat on the edge of the bed across from you. The polyester coverlet printed with a patchwork design popular from several decades previous made an aggravating swish sound against his trousers.
“Your terms?” He smirked, clearly at ease as he planted his hands behind his hips, leaning back with casual arrogance.
“Answer my questions. Truthfully.” Came your immediate reply. “As many as I can think of….”
“Within a three-hour time limit.” He countered, eyes narrowing playfully, clearly enjoying himself.
You chewed your lip, briefly concerned it would not be enough time, but the volume of questions that had been welling up inside you would ensure it would be used wisely.
You nodded before asking, “and yours?” loathing the tremble in your voice, even though you were pretty certain what he wanted.
“Let me drink my fill of you…” His voice was thick, roughened by desire, his gaze intense as he spoke.
Your throat constricted nervously, and you swallowed to clear it. “You cannot kill me…” You protested.
“No of course not.” His face took on a mask of tenderness. “What a terrible waste that would be pet…just enough to satisfy.” He assured you.
You sat on the poorly cushioned chair eyeing him warily, heart still beating at quite a steady clip as the potential terms of your agreement hung in the air, awaiting your assent. The factors at play paraded through your hindered consciousness – the danger of him, the opportunity of him, the mix of pain and pleasure offered in his bite. Your hand strayed to your inner wrist absently, scratching futilely through the bandage there. His eyes flickered down to follow the movement, lips stretching wider into a knowing grin.
Blinking in confusion you glanced down to where his gaze was aimed and huffed in frustration at yourself before thrusting your hand out to him to shake. “Deal.”
With a bemused grin he took your hand in his, grip as cold as marble as he shook in agreement.
“I would also hazard a guess that you need some food before we begin, pet? Need you to keep up your strength.” He grinned as he settled back against the headboard, legs stretched out before him.
You frowned slightly as you realized he was right – two glasses of wine and a few canapes were not going to sustain you. Rifling around on the desk you found a room service menu and called down to order the most appetizing thing they had on offer. Plugging your phone into charge, you opened the fresh notebook and started an audio recording in an app. Your last step was to set a timer for one hundred and eighty minutes before looking to the lieutenant.
“Ready?”
“Whenever you are, pet.” He nodded.
Pressing start on your timer, you asked your first question. The question that had been burning in your mind since you had first examined the artifacts three days ago. “Why did you have a coat from both sides?”
“Made my life easier. I could go wherever I wanted, do what I needed to, wearing the colours of convenience.” He answered with open honesty as you began scrawling into your notebook.
You were relieved that he was upholding his side of the bargain and yet felt an increased nervousness at the idea of having made a deal with a man without loyalties.
“What did you do during the war?”
“Joined up, of course. A group of us enlisted in the South Carolina Continental Army shortly after Independence was declared. My father was proud, my mother was less than pleased given than I was only sixteen, but we were caught up in the political fervor, desperate to join the fight that had been brewing for years. I could already shoot better than most of the recruits, and I was good with horses. It was easy to get a promotion to lieutenant. Especially when our soldiers were dropping like flies.” His tone took on an edge of bitterness that had you glancing up from your notes, but he was gazing off toward some unseen memory at the end of the bed.
“It was becoming increasingly apparent that were severely disadvantaged, particularly when it came to our leadership. The great Washington did not make his way south of Virginia, you see, we were left to fend for ourselves in an increasingly desperate fight against a superior enemy. By 1780 Charlestown had fallen to the British and I had no more interest in dying for a lost cause. I fled my post, made my way into the city to make a living off of my connections and the occupying troops desperate for the finer things that were hard to come by.”
A memory of the ledger found inside the sarcophagus, filled with its neat rows of items and prices, flitted through your mind and you swallowed. “A smuggler.”
“Some called me that, yes.” Jacob chuckled, looking to you with a shrug. “I was no longer killing people, my life was more comfortable, how could it not be considered an improvement for everyone involved?”
A knock on the door, signalling the arrival of your food, startled you into scratching a jagged line of ink along the margin of your notebook. Exhaling shakily, you stood to go retrieve the tray, finding some loose bills in your bag to tip the porter, before carrying the food in and setting it on the desk. Finding the small room overly warm, you shrugged out of your coat at last, not missing the way Jacob’s eyes traced every inch of skin revealed to him by the action.
“Where did you grow up?” You asked your next question, hoping to divert his attention and not waste any more time than you already had.
Alternating between taking notes and eating bites of your rapidly cooling food, you covered all manner of topics from his upbringing to the ins-and-outs of eighteenth-century smuggling. Your notebook grew increasingly full, the pages curling slightly from your frantic shorthand highlighting thoughts and ideas born from his answers, not wanting to miss any details even though you knew it was also being recorded.
“How did you become a vampire?” You asked just as your alarm chimed and you frowned in dismay. How could three hours have passed already…
“I will give you that one, pet, because I am a man of honor.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up to face you properly. “My trade had me working with all manner of people, procuring all sorts of items. That is where I first encountered the children of the night. I provided them with what I thought was traditional evening entertainment, but they were soon having me disposing of the leftover pale corpses with ravaged throats. After much persuasion they promised me eternal life…” He laughed bitterly.
“I had barely paid the price of high-value Continental Army information – no sooner had I been turned when the ancestors of your handsome Bradley,” you breath hitched in your throat and his eyes flashed with irritation “showed up for all of us. They promised me a way out, passage back to England. They locked me in that box with my consent. With the understanding that I would be freed as soon as I was aboard a ship out of this place. But instead, I lay there forgotten, my veins running dry, rasping against my skin until I could no longer keep my eyes open. Until a few days ago when your sweet blood fell upon my lips, bringing me back. Now,” his eyes darkened as he stood, looming over you, “you have had your fun. It is my turn.”
He leaned forward, lips parted, baring elongated fangs as he prepared to bite your neck, but you planted a firm hand against his chest, pen still threaded through your fingers. “Wait…s…somewhere it can’t be seen….” You pleaded shakily.
He pulled back with a growing smirk before sinking to his knees before you, fingers seeking the skin of your ankles beneath your dress. He chuckled as you jumped slightly at his cool touch, watching with bated breath as his hands rose up your legs, the hem of your dress gathering at his wrists. Your hands fell to clutch at the arm rests of the chair as he eased your knees apart, inhaling your scent greedily. You could feel each rapid beat of your heart lodged in your throat, shifting slightly at the feel of warmth gathering at the apex of your thighs, certain Jacob was more than aware of the effect his proximity was having on your traitorous body as he grew ever closer to that warmth.
With one final glance up at you he at last turned his head to sink his fangs into the supple flesh of your inner thigh. Your head fell back between your shoulders with a ragged moan, one which he echoed against your skin, your body trembling in response. A mixture of pain and pleasure rocketed through your body as he began to feed, drawing your blood from the bite wound, making you writhe beneath him. A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as his hands moved to pin your hips, holding you in place as he swallowed greedily.
Gradually your grip on the arms of the chair weakened, the beat of your heart dropped to a normal tempo before becoming sluggish beneath your rib caged. Rolling your head forward, you feebly tried to push his mouth away, afraid he was drinking too much. The lieutenant did not budge, eyes closed in ecstasy, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully, as he continued to drink.
“Jacob…” You whimpered weakly. “We…had a deal…” You panted in an odd cocktail of frantic languidness.
A terrific thud suddenly collided with the door, but you barely had the wherewithal to flinch in reaction. It was followed by several more before the door frame gave away with the horrific screech of protesting metal and wood.  Through heavy eyelids you watched a slightly winded Bradley Bradshaw hurtle into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the scene – Jacob’s position between your legs, your inability to lift your own head. In a swift movement blurred by your weakened state, he was suddenly grasping a stake in his fist, his knuckles gone white from the force with which he held the weapon. Jacob, meanwhile, remained suctioned to your flesh like an overgrown leech, oblivious to all around him.
Bradley wasted no time, drawing his arm back to gain momentum before powerfully driving the stake into Jacob’s back between his ribs. His head snapped up from your thigh with a roar, mouth and neck painted with your blood as he stumbled to his feet, reaching back for the intruding object. With one final blow of his palm to the hilt of the stake, Bradley drove the point of the wood straight through Jacob’s heart. The dying vampire gave a pathetic gasp before his entire being suddenly disintegrated before your very eyes.
Leaving you staring in lethargic shock, Bradley stepped into the tiny washroom that could barely contain his frame and gathered a towel and robe from, returning to press the rough fibres of the towel against the tender flesh. You yelped pathetically, pushing at him weakly as tears pricked your eyes. You did not have the energy to determine if they were tears of shame or tears of sadness for the pile of dust now on the carpet that had very recently been the lieutenant.
“You killed him.” You breathed faintly.
“He was killing you.” Bradley replied sharply, punctuating his statement by pulling the towel tightly around your thigh with the belt of the robe, tying a secure knot in the terrycloth.
You flinched in pain before gulping as he pulled the hem of your dress down over your legs to preserve your modesty. You vision was beginning to narrow as he leaned down to retrieve his stake, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket before moving to lift you into his arms, all brisk efficiency. His ability to find you in a hotel with over two hundreds of rooms, in a city full of dozens of hotels, was a puzzle you might not ever be able to solve. Least of all now with your rapidly dimming consciousness.
“Wait!” You channeled the last of bit of effort within your body towards catching his attention. “My stuff…” You gestured listlessly at your phone and notebook, wanting at the very least for this to have not been all for naught.
“You historians are really something else.” He replied gruffly before sweeping your things into your bag, hanging it from his shoulder before scooping you up, his supernatural strength making it a thing of ease as he hurried for the elevator.
“Where we goin’….” Your head lolled forward against his chest, shivering against the radiant heat of his body, barely able to form the words.
“Hospital.” He grunted before everything faded to black.
-------------------------
Read Part Five
The Night Moves Masterlist
Tag list: @moonyinthestars, @roger-that-cap, @gaminffnerd, @blckgrl-sunflower
60 notes · View notes
damisarki · 1 year
Text
how to seduce a nerd (as a nerd), a comprehensive guide by riri williams.
pairing: shuri udaku x riri williams
summary: the hc of shuri being a giant nerd that can't flirt is 100% factual but i argue that riri is exactly the same she's just better at faking it. so here's almost 4k words of riri attempting to seduce shuri and shuri being painfully oblivious. just sum black sapphic nerd representation.
warnings/tags: idiots in love; fluff; no like they're both so dumb; and so smart; miscommunication 🤭; riri was playing the long game; like real long; king of yearning; smut (18+)
a/n: missed these girls real bad so yh i had to drag this out of my v-day drafts 💋
word count: 3.7k
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step 1: invite them to do several, seemingly random activities and pray they notice your attempts at flirting?
“do you want to keep doing this, shuri?” riri asked in a low voice
shuri's eyebrows furrowed and then arched.
“doing what?” she said.
riri’s shoulders slumped and she give a tired sigh. “this,” she said, gesturing between them and then generally around her apartment.
“the coding club?” shuri said looking baffled. “minecraft?”
riri felt tempted to shake her.
“all of it,” she gasped , exasperated that she was making her spell it all out. “you are clearly and abundantly not interested, so is there a reason we’re still doing this after two years?”
shuri looked at her, wide-eyed and bewildered. her cheerfulness had vanished and her eyes were so large she could practically see herself in the reflection.
“you want to stop?” she said, her expression growing visibly hurt. “why? how can you say i’m not interested? i’ve never missed a discord session. i know i'm late sometimes and have to reschedule—because of my duties, but that—that’s never intentional. i’ve always texted on that phone your force me to use to let you know. i know i’ve done that a lot lately. but that wasn’t—i’m sorry. you should have said something. i didn’t realize it bothered you. i—”
riri stared at her dazedly.
shuri’s lower lip trembled faintly and her eyes got shiny and she abruptly coughed and then cleared her throat and stopped talking.
riri felt her jaw fall somewhat slack.
“oh god,” she said and buried her face in her hands for several seconds while she tried to absorb the realization she just had.
when she looked up at shuri, she found her staring at her with an expression of extreme hurt and a glimmer of anger in her eyes. she stared down at the floor and opened and closed her mouth repeatedly as she tried to figure out where to begin.
“shuri,” she said at last, using a slow, even voice as she looked across the kitchen at her, “has it never struck you as odd that we are the only two people in our coding club?”
shuri blinked at her.
“well, the projects we like to work on are rather complex and obscure. it would be surprising to find someone else who was interested in all the same things we are,” she said. “were you wanting to expand it? we—can. i suppose our solutions probably aren’t as comprehensive since it’s just the two of us.”
riri swallowed and tried again.
“we have dinner. specifically, we have dinner here in my apartment whenever you're able to come, which we normally cook together.”
“we drink wine and eat junk food and play minecraft and talk about literally anything else that comes to mind until late into the night and you regularly stay over and sleep in my guest bedroom,” riri said.
shuri nodded slowly.
“we regularly go to parks or to visit museums or new bookstores together on the weekends - we went to legoland for my spring break,” she added.
the bewilderment in shuri’s expression suddenly faded and became replaced by a look both pensive and regretful. her mouth quivered faintly before she spoke.
“oh… i understand. i’m encroaching aren’t i? of course, i’m stealing all your spare time. you must have other people you’d rather spend your weekends with. it probably gives the wrong impression that you have me spending the night here. you should have said something sooner. okoye’s been saying i’m practically dating you. i understand. do you—,” her expression grew wistful. “would you be willing to just scale back? we could only meet online like we did in the beginning. just half an hour. or did you just want to—want to stop?”
riri clamped her hands over her mouth as she stared at shuri, supposedly the smartest person in the universe, and tried to formulate a reply.
finally she dropped her hands and gripped the edge of counter instead.
“shuri,” she said in a strained voice, "please don’t be offended by how blunt i’m bout to be, but i’m honestly afraid that if i explain this with any type of subtlety it'll somehow continue to elude you.”
shuri’s expression grew indignant but riri ignored it and pressed on.
“i'm trying to seduce you,” riri said, staring her straight in the eye. her indignation faded as her mouth dropped open and her eyes slowly grew round.
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step 2: make your intentions absolutely, painfully clear
riri continued, “i have been trying to seduce you for over two years; why else would i spend every friday night pair-programming and playing minecraft with you till 4am ?”
she gestured around the room.
“i moved out of my dorm and got an apartment (that you somehow now pay for) just so i could invite you over and cook for you; because i was trying to seduce you. i stay up till ungodly hours of the night with you and you have your own toothbrush and drawer of clothes here, because i’ve been trying to seduce you. i haven't gotten acrylics done in two years, because i have been trying to seduce you.”
she sighed and slumped against the counter slightly.
“i thought that you just needed time. at first i wasn't even sure if you liked girls or not, of course that was before i heard you go on an hour long rant about beyoncé. then i thought that maybe you didn't see me in that way, and we were just friends. i was okay with that too, but then sometimes- i don't know- sometimes, you'd look at me and I'd think- if I was patient that eventually you’d-
but—it didn’t even occur to me that you hadn’t realized that i have been trying to seduce you this entire time.”
she needed a blunt. several. actually an eighth would probably be ideal. more than a quarter. perhaps she’d just say fck it and buy an ounce.
shuri’s eyes were so enormous as she stared at her that she looked a bit like a cartoon animal.
“you—you—what?” she finally choked out.
“i. have. been. trying. to. seduce. you.” riri said again in a flat, resigned voice and wondered if she should write it on a board or perhaps print it into a book for her. she’d already said it half a dozen times and if she continued to not understand she would probably feel obliged to jump off a bridge somewhere.
“how was i supposed to know that?” shuri said in a shrill tone.
riri stared at her, stunned.
“what did you think was going on?” she said in bafflement.
“i don’t know,” shuri said in wobbling voice, fluttering her hands around in a way that she tended to when she was at a loss for words. “i don't really have a lot of dating experience. normally—girls just tell me they think i’m pretty and then try to kiss me. they don’t start clubs and invite me to cook dinner with them and set up spare bedrooms.” she gestured up toward the ceiling but then her hands abruptly shot down and she gripped the edge of the counter, looking as though she were on the verge of falling over. “did you expect me to assume i was special? for all i know you do the same things with all your friends.”
were riri's hands shaking? yes. it appeared that they were shaking from nerves and frustration.
“yes, princess, on thursday nights i have mj over for crochet club and we cook dinner and waltz together in my kitchen and then drink wine and she hand feeds me chocolates too,” riri said in a voice that dripped sarcasm. “and then, when i’m not spending my weekends with you, i instead take ned to to random places in boston and we go star gazing at night.”
shuri bristled.
“i’m not—i’m not good at noticing things like that,” she finally said in a very small voice. “flirting. I always miss the cues when it comes to flirting.”
“yeah. i’ve realized that now,” riri said, thinking back on how pointedly she had always refrained from ever actually saying anything because she’d feared it would be too much and might pressure her. that at some point, if she were patient enough, shuri would be willing to initiate some type of physical reciprocity and then she could go from there, confident that she was comfortable with it.
but she hadn’t even realized…
“so, just to be clear. since tonight is all about finally being clear. i’m assuming that since it never so much as crossed your mind that i was trying to seduce you, that means that you are not interested,” she said in a wooden voice and as she started a mental checklist: one, pick up. two, get high. three, repeat two.
“i’m—interested.”
riri blinked and stared at her in astonishment.
“what?”
“i mean, i was interested ages ago, but you just—never made a move,” she said, tossing a hand up in apparent despair. “you'd stay up with me all the time and invite me over here to make handmade pasta and turn on music and have us dancing around the kitchen but you never tried anything or said anything about liking me or wanting to date me. when we went to science museums or bookstores you never asked to take me to any of them, you’d just mention that you were going and say i could come if i wanted to. so, i just assumed that it was how you were; that you had, had—,” she stammered slightly and glanced away. “that you had a line that you didn’t want us to cross, and i tried not to do anything that would make it seem like i was trying to cross it.”
riri stood blinking at shuri, trying to absorb everything she’d just said.
“define ages ago,” she finally said.
“i thought back when you first asked me to have dinner here that it meant something. but—then you didn’t ever so much as kiss me on the cheek and you always went to events with other people. you never seemed particularly enthusiastic about having me over when your other friends were. so i just assumed that i wasn’t supposed to read into anything—that you were just joking around; that flirting is your way of being friendly, and that you were the same way with everyone. i was afraid that if i was misinterpreting and then you realized that i was—that i was interested, that it might make things awkward.”  
“oh my god,” riri moaned and then proceeded to down shuri's entire glass of wine. she set the glass down on the counter and exhaled shakily.
“please kill me,” she muttered. “like right now. i don’t think i can live with this feeling anymore.”
"i- i'd rather kiss you instead, if that's okay" shuri whispered
riri whipped her head up to catch her eyes, too stunned, too scared to process what she'd just heard.
"please"
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step 3: kiss them, duh!
shuri dipped her head down and captured her lips with hers. riri made a pleased, kittenish sort of noise in the back of her throat and gripped her hood as she kissed her back.
she tasted like raspberries and wine and something uniquely shuri. riri nipped her lips and then delved her tongue inside her mouth; sliding along and entwining it with hers as her hands roamed across her body and she pushed her back against the counter.
she had been dreaming of this moment for ages. imagined iterations of it again and again until she’d worried she was setting herself up to be disappointed if the moment ever did come.
she had been mistaken. her fairly vivid imagination could not top the thrill of finally getting to kiss shuri after waiting to do so for years.
riri's hand crept up underneath shuri's hoodie, skimming over the bare skin of her back, gliding her fingers along her spine. she felt her gasp against her lips.
“i've been dying to kiss you,” she muttered before pressing her mouth against hers again.
her heart was pounding as though she’d just flown across town and back in her suit. the entire universe faded away until there was nothing left but shuri in her arms, her satin tongue gliding against her lips, her soft skin under her hands, and the sensation of her fingers slipping along her neck like a whisper.
kissing shuri was—magic; a rush through her whole body. she gave breathy little whimpers and tugged at riri's hair, and it sent a shiver through her body and straight to her clit. she pressed herself against her more firmly and moaned.
as soon as riri drew back to take a breath, shuri took a few of her own. one after the other. then, she went right back to her mouth, kissing her deeply, letting her tongue explore freely. building on it, she curled her hand around the back of her neck, touching the hair there, hearing the low groan coming from riri that shot right down her spine.
“we should wait,” riri whispered against her mouth, nipping at her bottom lip in a flash of pleasure and pain before kissing it better. “be patient.” another kiss as her hands strayed further up, “w—” shuri swallowed her words by crushing her mouth against hers, letting herself sink into it. into her. deeper. her shoulders sagged as she pressed against riri, harder and harder until she pulled back again. 
“tell me no.” riri's lips left hers, travelling with intent to her chin, up her jaw, then down the side of her neck, making her tense and grip the back of her neck in her fist, careful not to apply too much pressure. riri groaned and it sounded like it hurt . “tell me to wait. and i will.” her teeth scraped the thin skin right behind shuri's ear. 
shuri turned her head, catching her eyes and staring right into them. searching and finding the answers she’d spent the last two years looking for in equations and algorithms. answers that had been right in her face all along, had she only taken the time. 
riri shut her eyes, resting her forehead against hers, hands trembling. “i’m patient.”
“i’m not.”
riri's eyes shot open. 
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step 4: i think u know...
somehow they landed half-undressed on riri's bed in a mess of tangled limbs. she was everywhere all at once, knees slotted between shuri's legs, spreading them wider, settling between them. higher. closer. and once shuri felt her, she couldn’t help but grind down on her a little. then a little more. then a lot more when her hands travelled to her hips, gripping her, controlling her movement with quiet encouragements.
and Bast, shuri thought as she shut her eyes, she could probably come from touch alone because riri's hands were intense—hot. taste. touch. sight. sound. smell. all her senses sparked to life in an instant. it was better than she could have dreamed. riri was better than she’d imagined; everything she wanted, but had no idea she needed. 
it didn’t help that riri was kissing her thoroughly. roughly. kissing her like she hadn’t been kissed before. and she had been kissed, plenty of times, but nothing like this. riri kissed like it was all she thought about, all she needed. her tongue was hot in her mouth and her lips met hers with everything she had. giving.
everything she did was focused, deliberate.
riri's mouth broke away from hers to work across her jaw, over to her chin, searing a path of hot, open-mouthed kisses down from the centre of her throat to the top of her chest. suddenly, she pulled away and shuri gasped in shock when she rolled them over so she was on top.
she stared at her for a moment, sucking in a breath. “stay here.”
and then she was gone. 
for once in her life, shuri followed another person’s instruction without question. she only rose up on her elbows to watch riri make quick work of her clothes. she stood before her in her panties and not much else, eyeing her with a tiny smirk as she watched shuri appreciate her body. she gestured for her to scoot farther onto the bed and she did, slowly, watching riri as she climbed in with her. riri slid her underwear off and tossed them somewhere shuri couldn’t see. she laid back flat, her eyes on the ceiling, anxiously waiting to feel the pressure of her fingers on her. 
but it never came.
instead, she kissed each knee before parting them slowly. shuri tensed when her head lowered between her open legs. “i’ve not…” riri's eyes lifted, meeting hers with heat and hunger and oh… now she was even more nervous. “i mean, riri, i’ve not had—”
the words died in her mouth when riri smoothed her palms up her inner thighs. “relax.” she ran a trail of kisses up her thigh, making her shudder both at the sensation and… then in a fluttery sort of anticipation of her next move. “trust me.”
shuri exhaled a ragged breath. then inhaled sharply. it wasn’t easy with her heart and mind racing, but she did just that… “okay.”
riri’s voice was low and intimate when she felt her breath on her. “i kinda know what i'm doing. also i've had two years to think about nothing but this.”
the first touch of her tongue felt like a lightning strike. shuri almost jumped off the bed, bumping her with her hip, but riri held her down, her legs wide, opening her up to her explorations. she took her time licking everywhere, gently pulling, nipping with tiny bites that made her quake. “oh Bast.”
not quite.
all of her nerves vanished as she ran her hands through riri's braids. the self-conscious jitters bled into the background, melted away with every stroke of her tongue. her hands gripped her shaking thighs and she’d never—no.  
shuri tried to pull away because she could . 
right then. 
she would.
but by the way riri kept squeezing her thighs, holding her in place to stop her from squirming, she seemed determined to pull it out of her. 
rip it out of her if she had to. 
the wet sounds seemed louder than the thunder that rolled outside, but shuri was too busy sobbing riri's name over and over again. and even though she didn’t ask, she couldn’t help but tell her how good it felt. how good she felt. 
yes and please and more. 
riri gave and gave until the inevitable drew too close to avoid or delay. it happened far before shuri was ready, before she could warn her. that growing chant in her hits its peak, making shuri arch off the bed and press into riri's mouth, shaking, swearing, trying to grasp at something to keep her tethered to the earth. 
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shuri pressed riri back down onto the bed and kissed and nipped her way down her arms to her fingers. then she sucked each one into her mouth, her hands fondling her breasts. riri's eyes slid closed as she whimpered and began to writhe beneath her.
when she was incoherent with sensation shuri finally slipped a hand down between them. she heard the other's breath catch as she slid her hand over her pelvis and caressed the thatch of curls between her legs.
she glanced up and found that her eyes were scrunched closed and her fingers gripping the sheets tightly as she lay frozen. her expression almost tense as though she were bracing herself against something.
“awusemhle [you're beautiful]” she murmured, “i’ve been dreaming of this for ages and yet you are somehow managing to exceed all my fantasies.”
riri snorted and started to open her mouth in what was undoubtedly a retort, and then…
then shuri was inside, filling her, exhaling like she’d held onto her last sliver of patience as long as she possibly could and now she just… wanted.
needed to see her come apart.
the pace she set with her fingers was brutal. rough and eager. the sounds riri made—the sounds they made together—were intoxicating and overwhelming. frantic. fucking shuri was the equivalent of wiring new pathways in her nervous system that had been destroyed by the experience, all the while not knowing who she was going to be in the aftermath. 
but she knew something: this couldn’t be it. 
not a one off. nothing she could pass up.
not when she wanted more. 
and more.
and more.
shuri gave her everything with each deep thrust, circling her clit and hitting just right every time, and the low, almost painful groan she made when riri clenched around her…. 
“fuck.” her word pooled in riri's belly like falling over the first crest of a roller coaster. she couldn’t help it, gripping her even tighter. harder. shuri couldn't tear her eyes away from between riri's legs as she gritted her teeth. “fuck, you’re killing me.”
“don’t stop,” riri whimpered
not that she would.
not that she could.
shuri wrapped her hand around her throat, squeezing gently, teaching her something about herself that she didn’t know. she used her teeth, her tongue, her hips, all of herself, as they rocked the mattress with their movement. whispering against her skin, words like finally and riri and ntomb'am [my girl] spilled from her like a tidal wave. affectionate words she didn’t intend to speak—not with the way she bit down on her lip to stop them from tumbling out. 
but riri knew.
shuri's fingers were curling steadily against riri's g-spot. her pace was less punishing but harder and more determined as riri held on tight and tried to breathe. it was like being swept up in a deluge of sensation and knowing she was going under, knowing she was going to drown, but it didn’t matter because they were going down together. 
“stop thinking.”
her insides twisted tighter and tighter, breath coming out in ragged gasps. logic and reason blurred and all riri could think was yes and please, but the part of her that was still functioning realised she had no idea what she was asking for.
but shuri knew. “let go.”
she arched her back, and with a shout, riri did as instructed.
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end-notes: and they were girlfriends the end 🤭💌
dividers by: firefly-graphics
226 notes · View notes
haechnnie · 7 months
Text
ALL NIGHT PARKING, a yn x haechan 18+ smau: prev ≻ we need to talk ≻ next
yn finds her life increasingly intertwined with haechan’s after accidentally texting him her nudes. (masterlist)
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a/n: i think each update will be a blend of texts and conversations from here on out. (sorry if that’s not your style!!) despite this, there will still be some context lacking just because of the type of story this is. if you really want some details, feel free to let me know and i will try to make it happen for you. also if there are any specific moments you like to see between them you can lmk that too :) i love them and have so many side thoughts but they don’t fit into the current storyline so they’re just hanging out in my head haha
2 images, includes written addition wc3072: it’s fluff <3 can’t even deny it they’re cute and stressed and cute (i opened and saved this sooo many times if anything looks off pls let me know!)
tag list🎼 @liliansun @tddyhyck @chimiwimi @toroufriteh @asteriaskingdom @sundamariis @funkygoose @jenoleeaesthetic @ifyoudareto-believe @n0hyuck @haychhans @bbh-kji @gyulfriend @matchahyuck @xtrataerrestrial @brownsugarbaybee @babyjenono @yueisyum @makiswrld @minkyuncutie @kittydollzz @jaylaxies @citylightsdoll @kosmicbomb @choi-beomgyulvr
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“What’s wrong?” Haechan asks, quickly answering his phone when he sees Yn’s contact come up.
“What?” She asks, voice thick with sleep, and he finds himself deflating a breath or two at the sound. It’s cute, raspy and confused in his ear, and he feels his face heating up over the fact that he’s hearing her like this. “Y-you text me at nearly midnight talkin’ about we need to talk” -she attempts to sound like him, which only softens him more- “and then ask me what’s wrong?”
“Sorry- I expected you to be asleep.”
“I barely sleep these days,” she quickly admits, sighing tiredly a moment later. He can hear her shifting around, as though it was physically exhausting to admit. “Ya know…with everything. What’s up, baby H?”
“I feel like we should talk about that.”
“I sincerely doubt my sleeplessness has anything to do with the reason you texted me.”
“Something to do with it, at least. Unless you always had trouble sleeping?” He leans back on his couch, staring at the ceiling as he listens to a soft laugh make its way through the phone. “I think you would have mentioned that by now.”
“You’re annoying.”
He laughs, loving the fact that he can hear her smile in her voice. “Have a good weekend?”
“Sure. Museum, dinner, dancing yesterday. Today was brunch out and movies on my couch.”
“I’m a little jealous.”
“You mean you didn’t have a riveting time doing something with someone?”
“Not in comparison to dancing and movies.”
“It’d…be nice. If we could do it together.”
“Is that the delirium talking?”
“How’d you know?” She asks, voice a little muffled now. Haechan imagines that she’s laying back down, phone next to her on the pillow, moonlight pouring into her bedroom. He closes his eyes at the thought, free hand coming to rest on his chest as he imagines what it’d be like to be laying next to her. 
“Lucky guess…It wasn’t interesting. More troubling than anything else.”
“Did you call me to get cheered up?” The bit of hope in her voice draws a tightness he refuses to acknowledge under his hand. “I’m not doing a good job, sorry.”
“That…isn’t exactly why. I was going to ask you to carve some time out of your day for me. I don’t think what I have to say will make you happy. But you need to hear it.”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“Am I- what? First of all, if I could do that: I wouldn’t. You could take a bite out of me and I’d ask if you want another one.”
The gasp she makes is almost the sweetest thing he’s ever heard, but he remembers ger laughter in his ears at the aquarium and decides that the gasp is just a close second for now. “You’re killing me.”
“I want to save you.”
Yn whimpers, the sound shooting straight through him. It’s sobering and uncomfortable and before he can find the words to explain that he can’t bear to hear it again, he realizes that she’s crying. It causes his eyes to pop open, every inch of him seeming to burn with a desire to do more than he really can. No without being asked to.
“Baby girl,” he murmurs, and it doesn’t feel like enough but it’s all he can do. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to cry. I just…need you to understand. You aren’t safe.”
“Th-that’s all you say to me, you know? You n-never tell me anything th-that means something.”
“What do you want me to tell you? I don’t feel right doing it, if Ten and Johnny haven’t in all this time.”
“Look where that g-got me, H. I’m in it. I d-don’t even know how to get out of this mess-”
“Just leave. Come home. Just say you want to, that you will, and I’ll take care of everything else.”
He can tell that she’s trying to quiet her tears, to lessen the obvious distress she’s in, and he can’t help but wonder if this is part of the reason they kept her away from it all. He’s always sensed a strange, oblivious calm about her. A clueless naïveté or inescapable innocence that he thought was humoring and attractive, sweet in a way nothing in his life was. Careless in a way that only someone who has never had to fear or want anything in life can be.
But he understands now. It was all a lie. She’d all but told him that late one night, when she’d asked him to only think of her as hot and carefree, and he’d let the fact slip by as unimportant. It pulls a groan from his throat that he’s forced to quiet, lest she thinks it’s directed at her.
She takes on too much- loves a little too hard and keeps any hardship a secret from others. He hates himself for not realizing it before. Hates himself for thinking that it's endearing now, too.
“It isn’t that easy.”
“It can be,” he affirms, voice gentle. “Just…say it. Tell me. Don’t think about it. Don’t take it on. Let me do that for you.”
As though she hasn’t heard him at all, she goes on to say, “I want it to be. You have no idea. But I’m scared, H. I’ve let him twist me into every aspect of his life.  I’ve been questioning myself, wondering if I just missed it all somehow. If I’ve purposely closed my eyes to it. I don’t know how- no one would believe I don’t know anything. I don’t believe it.”
“If you think hard enough you probably do.”
“Th-that’s not helpfulll. I’m really worried h-here. And you’re joking.”
“I’m not,” he amends. “I’m serious. If you think about everything, you probably know more than you realize. You wouldn’t have missed it though, babe. You wouldn’t have even known to look for it.
“There was no reason to believe Audi does anything nefarious.”
“Except for the fact that h-he does.”
“Well, yeah,” he chuckles. A sigh follows as he leans back into his couch. “Hindsight is 20/20, right?
“He knew what he was doing…Ten really does believe the man cares for you, though. You…would probably be taken care of. If anything were to happen.”
“Like what?”
“…just come back. You’ll be safe-”
“Ok” -Haechan’s breath catches in his throat- “if I came back-”
“Yeah. I’ll come right now.”
“I’m being s-serious.”
“Me, too. You’d just have to grab your N City emergency bag and get in my car. You don’t even have to bring that, to be honest. Just say yes and I’m on my way,”
“If,” she goes on to say with a tired sigh, “I come back, what does it solve?”
“Peace of mind.”
“For who, exactly? I’m terrified of Audi following. What if he does and he hurts you all? I couldn’t forgive myself.”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Haechan says, hoping his voice sounds as confident as he feels. “You need to be concerned with yourself.”
“What did he do? Why aren’t you all friendly anymore?”
He sighs before carefully saying, “He didn’t do it himself. He just chose to stick with the group…I can’t blame him for it, to be honest. NCT is my family…I know blood is thicker than water but I love them like I love my own siblings.”
“Wanna know something?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“The saying is the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.”
“Whoa…what?”
She laughs and he likes it. He really, really likes it. He wishes he could see it and feel it in real time. “It means the bonds you establish yourself are more significant than those you didn’t freely choose…not that your family isn’t important. It’s just…it makes sense that he would go. Especially since he got to keep his family in the fallout.
“They all seem…untouchable. The others, too.”
“They got away with it.”
“With what?”
Haechan laughs. “Ah, babe. You almost got me.”
She offers a soft laugh in return, sighing sleepily after. “Worth a shot.”
“I know I’m asking you to just trust me. But…”
“I do trust you.”
“When’s your birthday?” She tells him, a smile in her voice. “Most used password?” She laughs, the sound drawing a smile to his lips as she recites a complicated series of numbers and letters he doesn’t recognize. “Is it really?”
“Yeah. There's methodology there.”
“I’ll take your word for it….Mine is 6 June. And M dash the number 1 Jackson.”
“That’s really cute. Were you 12 when you thought of it?”
“Yeah.”
“Cute…what’d you really text me for, H?”
He swallows thickly, already knowing it’s a lost cause. At least for tonight. “I want you to tell me you’re blinking twice.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is. It will be. I promise.”
She’s still crying. Or crying again. He isn’t really sure. He hates it. Really, really hates it.
“I’m sorry.” Not for the first time, he wishes he knew her name. Wishes he knew where she lived. Not even to drag her home but just to be there. To say something real. “I’m sorry you have to do it alone.”
She mutes herself. He knows she does because the silence on her end is suddenly deafening. He honestly hadn’t known that something could be worse than hearing her cry but this is.
“Can I do something for you?” He asks as he gets up from the couch and makes his way to his den. “I haven’t in a long time, now that I think about it. Hopefully it’s ok…hold on one second.”
He sets his phone up on a stand and mutes himself for a second, fingers trailing over the keys of his piano to make sure it’s still in tune. He takes himself off mute as he sits down. “It’ll be a little cliche, I think. Actually, really cliche. But, I hope it…reaches you…”
He begins to play, mainly from memory as he considers the run of songs he can reasonably play her. “You have to guess the song. Don’t think you’re getting out of it….
“Baby girl, do you not know it?” He asks once he’s nearly done. “You’re a fake fan?”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
He laughs. “I won’t.”
“The fact that you can play Taylor Swift songs is a little embarrassing. It’s, um…The Lakes, right?”
“Ooo, 3 points to [Hogwarts House].”
“Just 3? You gotta give me more or I’m outing you.”
“To who?”
“Johnny. As a swiftie.”
He feels heat pooling in his stomach, slowly overflowing into his limbs, and he considers briefly that the feeling is worse than butterflies or lust. That it’s something he could get addicted to. “Why are you threatening me?”
She sniffles, but there’s a smile in her voice as she says, “I don’t know. Because you like it…thank you, H.”
“For liking it?” He asks, finishing the song and looking over at his phone. 
“No. Twice now you’ve mentioned me having to do it alone. It’s a funny way to think about it. Especially since you keep telling me you’ll come.”
He hums thoughtfully, letting silence linger for a second before getting up from his piano. “Wanna watch me play?”
“What?”
“Not, like…my face. I look exhausted right now anyway. Hardly the way I’d want you to see me for the first time.”
“Yeah, because I look like Miss Universe right now.”
He thinks she’s going to say no from the way her words hang in the air, but a second later he realizes she’s FaceTiming him and fuck of butterflies don’t add to the heat the seems the be attempting to drown him. “Hold on one second, ok?” He asks as he accepts the call. “I was going to angle the camera a particular way but I realized I could just put on a mask.”
“K,” she says, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He grabs a mask and makes sure his hands look good before hurrying back to see her sitting up against her bedroom wall, arms wrapped around a plush as she stares blankly at the camera. Her eyes are red and swollen, exhausted from what he can only imagine is everything right now, and for a moment he wonders if she sleeps with her eyes open because she doesn’t react to him leaning in toward the camera. “Baby girl?”
A smile spreads across her face, everything about her brightening, and he can’t tell if it’s forced or not. It drives him crazy, even as he finds himself smiling back at her.
“Ya know, Tay’s always on one about some blue or green eyes…” Yn sighs, leaning a little closer to the camera. “I don’t think she really valued her time with Taylor Lautner-”
“She wrote a whole song about it.”
“And missed the effect entirely! You’re like Bambi right now, H! I want to rescue you.”
He laughs as he sits back down. “You can if you want. You know my code to get in.”
“This feels like a trap.”
“Smart girl,” he agrees. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll give you a hint. It’s DreamWorks.”
“Bambi’s going to play me a DreamWorks song?
He laughs, brow furrowing as he refocuses on the keys.
“You ever mentioned that you’re more than just like…a keyboard guy.”
“Damn, that’s how you thought of me?”
“Yeah.”
“I have one. For when I’m just messing around. It’s in my bedroom. This one is mainly for decoration, or for something like this.”
“Sorry- you make it a habit of cheering up people whose lives are falling apart? By serenading them late at night?”
“Silly,” he murmurs as he begins to play. “I meant something more serious.” The statement is contradicted by what he’s chosen to play, but her laughter rings out and he decides it’s ok.
“You clown me for liking Shrek but you know the song, baby H? That’s so fake of you.”
“Sorry I can’t hear you.”
She laughs, laying down on her side and watching with the softest of smiles on her face. It never fades as he plays, even as her eyes droop tiredly throughout the entire song. 
“You’re really beautiful,” she praises once he’s done. He’s grateful she can’t see his cheeks because he can feel them warming painfully. “Really talented. You should do a jazz night at Horizon with you as the main event.”
“This is our secret,” he informs as he thinks about the next one. “They know I play but not to what extent.”
“Really? I feel really lucky, then.”
“Me, too. For tonight, at least…
“And you’re really beautiful, too, noona.”
“I’m a mess right now.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, absently playing another song as they talk. “I like this as much as the hot and carefree you.”
“As much as?” She asks skeptically.
“A little more, honestly. I don’t want you to think I like you more when you're emotionally vulnerable, though.” He watches as she buries her face in her plush. “You have to make the decision on your own.”
“What?”
He swallows his nerves, not wanting to upset her again but needing her to understand. “I keep saying you have to do it alone because you have to decide for yourself. I want you to make a certain decision, I can’t and won’t deny that. But ultimately, it doesn’t matter what anyone else wants. You have to do what’s right for you.”
She looks away from him, eyes once again shiney. “Yeah,” she agrees. “I know.”
“Feeling sleepy?”
“Yeah, but I want to keep listening.”
“I’ll keep playing. Until I’m absolutely sure you’re asleep. And a little while after that, too.”
“Really?”
“Of course. You have to guess one more, though. I’m really excited about it.”
“Do you memorize these for fun?”
“Yes. I don’t have many hobbies that are solely mine…Although, I guess this one isn’t anymore.”
“Just think of me as the same person and it’s ok.”
He laughs. “That sounds a lot like soul mates, baby girl.”
“Ok. You said it. Not me.”
“Same person, right?” He asks as he begins to play. “It just popped into my head, I had to say it. Like, on your behalf.”
They both stop talking as the song picks up, Haechan quietly humming along as he does his best not to stumble through any of it. He’s barely a few seconds in before she’s sleepily murmuring, “Is it from Up?”
“A few years earlier, actually.”
“You’re old enough to know something earlier?”
“You’re sooo funny.”
She laughs, sleepy and slow. “I dunno, H. But I like it…Tell me.”
“I’ll tell you in Paris.”
“Are we going?” 
“Sure. Why not?”
“When?”
“Next month,” he says, completely serious despite the fact that god only knows where either of them will be in a month.
“Perfect. I’m really…”
He doesn’t really notice that when she stops talking, but he does glance over to find her asleep once he makes it to the part he’s sure she’d guess it at.  He doesn’t stop, though. He goes through the handful of soft theme songs he knows, watching her from time to time until he himself gets tired.
“Baby girl?”
Haechan gets up from his seat, tugging his mask off and tossing it in the trash before grabbing his phone. He considers hanging up. It’s probably better for him to. But he doesn’t really want to. And if he’s already fucked then he might as well enjoy it, right? He has no clue how long he really has left after all.
Especially with Baekhyun’s deadline looming in the near future.
So, he takes her through his night routine, talking every now and then, and watching as she snuggles deeper and deeper into the giant Pooh Bear plush she’s cuddled against. It’s insanely cute, nearly fever inducing, and he sneaks a screenshot of it once he’s finally in bed, saving it in his baby girl folder before laying his phone on the opposite pillow.
She’s gone by the morning, a sweet message of thanks left behind. Haechan wants to read too much into it, wants to see a promise laced between her so-obviously-carefully chosen words, but he decides to keep his head on straight. Because Baekhyun was right: she’s a messy loose end.
…one he can’t keep holding onto. No matter how desperately he wants to. 
.
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🥺 i want an H 😭😭😭
next update : if you let me
the piano covers i imagined him playing: the lakes, fairytale, le festin
67 notes · View notes
julesclues · 2 years
Text
Leave a Mark pt. 2
Warnings: mentions of abuse, cursing, cleanup of injuries, sexual references
Word count: 5.42k
Pairing(s): Eddie Munson x Henderson!reader
Not proof read :p
Summary: After a harsh encounter with your father, Eddie continues to clean you up in his trailer now that the coast is clear.
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You and Dustin decided that sleeping over Eddie’s was a good idea. Dustin was supposed to do it anyways, and you didn’t feel in the condition to drive home, especially with him in the car. Your head was still killing you, and it hurt to walk for the most part.
After the boys had settled down from their little play session of running around the trailer, Eddie went in his room and grabbed some blankets and pillows for Dustin. “Woah, wait a minute. I’m not sleeping in a bed?” Dustin asks, as he follows Eddie out of his bedroom and onto the couch, where you sat. “Nope! I like you Henderson, but I will not be giving up my precious bed. Capisci?”
“But-“ Dustin turns to you to protest but you’re already giving him a death glare. “Eddie was nice enough to let us stay here. You’re lucky you’re not sleeping on the floor,” you say while Dustin’s shoulders fall in defeat. He turns to Eddie and Eddie wiggles the pillows and blankets. “Yeah, keep complaining Henderson and you’ll be outside.”
You chuckle slightly as Dustin accepts sleeping on the couch, and you get up so Eddie can set it up for him. “Where should I go?” You ask softly, rubbing your hands together. “You, lovely lady, can go in my room. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Why does she get your room!?” Dustin protests, but Eddie hits his arm. “She’s hurt. And besides, she hasn’t been complaining this entire time. I think she’s starting to become my favorite Henderson.” You blush at his playful words, but Dustin is just kinda disgusted. “Don’t you dare start flirting with my sister! I liked it better when you two weren’t friends. Fuck.” You laugh a bit and glance at Eddie, but he’s already looking at you with a sparkle in his eye, causing your breath to hitch in your throat for a quick second. His eyes were beautiful.
“I-I’ll be.. I’ll just go now. Yeah..” you say a bit awkwardly. You clear your throat and walk toward Eddie’s room, hearing his chuckle fade. You walk into his room and it matches him exactly. It’s exactly what you thought it would look like. Posters of Metallica, Dio, and Black Sabbath hung on the wall, worn down but still standing. Magazines of metal bands flooded the floors and his desk, along with guitar picks and music sheets. On the nightstand besides his bed was a little notebook titles “dnd campaigns” which made you smile. It was cute how Eddie hated English class and yet kept a notebook of creative ideas for a game he was so passionate about.
You picked up the book and sat on his bed. You scrolled through the notebook, glancing at the thousands of words plastered on the pages. There were also some doodles on the corners of a couple pages, which made you smile. But there was one that made you stop scrolling and your smile widen.
It was Dustin. A cute little sketch of Dustin wearing his hat that said “thinking cap.” The sketch wasn’t as good to put in a museum, but the fact that you were just able to see that it was your brother made you smile widely. You knew Dustin loved Eddie like a lot, but you didn’t really put together that Eddie shared that same love. Now you definitely understand how wrong you were about him. You had always thought he liked to be feared, that he was a scary cult leader but really, it was the total opposite. 
“Snooping, sweetheart?”
You jump from being startled, dropping the notebook on the floor and turn to face Eddie leaning against the door frame. “I-I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I know I shouldn't have been looking through your stuff, but your room is awesome. It’s exactly how I thought it would be.” He smirks, a small blush forming on his cheeks at the mention of how awesome you think he room is. “So, you've imagined what my room would look like?” Your eyes widen as you chuckle at his playful banter, picking up the notebook. “In your dreams, Munson.” He puts his hand on his chest like he’s wounded, and sits down on his bed. “Who told you about my dreams?” You sit down next to him and throw your head in a circle, ignoring his rhetorical question. “How’re you feeling?” he asks with concern. You turn to look at him but he's already looking at you with those goddamn puppy eyes. “Honestly, my torso hurts a bit.” He jumps up which, yet again, startles you. You were confused as to what he was doing when he went to his drawer and started looking through it, mumbling things you couldn’t quite understand. You see his tongue stick out a bit, which you find absolutely adorable. “Ah! Here it is,” he says quite loudly, turning around to face you. 
In his hands were a couple of elastic bandages. “We can wrap these around you to help with the bruises on your torso and legs. Besides, it’ll make you look badass.” You chuckle softly as he sits besides you again, making the bed dip down. You admired how easily he can make you smile or laugh, even in the shittiest of moments. You never knew he had such a sense of humor. Maybe that’s why Dustin got along with him so well, so quick. You stare at Eddie as he unravels the bandage, ready to put it around your torso first. “You can totally do this yourself if you’re uncomfortable, but I need you to lift your shirt a bit so I can wrap this around you sweetheart.” You were a bit hesitant.
Not because it was Eddie, but because you didn’t want to reveal such a bruise. You felt it even if there was no pressure on it. It was throbbing and the pain was definitely there. For some reason, you were embarrassed.
Eddie noticed your hesitation and was quick to reassure you. “I know I’m supposed to buy you dinner first, but I promise I’m still a gentleman. Say the word, I’ll leave the room, and you can patch yourself up.”
“I know you’re a gentleman,” you say a bit too quick. “I just get a bit nervous to show people my injuries. Don’t know why,” you chuckle nervously as he gives you a small smile. “You don’t want me to see you differently,” he says. You tilt your head in confusion, wondering how he was able to connect with you so easily and understand what you were feeling. “My childhood wasn’t the best,” he admits. “Before moving in with Uncle Wayne at around 7, I lived with my dad. My mom split when I was young. Never really knew her,” he chuckles sadly, but you just continue to listen, leaning in a bit so he knows you’re really listening.
“My dad was a selfish prick, exactly like yours. Textbook definition and all. I always defended him though. Always told people he was amazing and the best father ever, even though he would do that same thing to me,” Eddie admits, pointing to your face quickly as he mentions the last couple words. Your eyes widen in surprise a bit, not expecting Eddie to share the same experiences as you and your brother. “It wasn’t until Uncle Wayne took me in that I started to notice the real reason I never told people the truth. I was embarrassed. Everyone spoke about their parents being the highlight of their life yet my highlight was a fantasy board game about warlocks and dragons and creativity. No wonder people call me a freak, huh?” Before you could respond, he shakes his head.
“But this isn’t about me. This is about you, sweetheart. I never told anyone that, but I needed you to know that I understand you. Maybe not personally, but I’m not exactly in the dark here, you know? So I get it. I’m here for you.”
I’m here for you.
Those four words were words you were longing for, and you didn’t even know it. Eddie saw tears form in your eyes as you just inhaled slowly in silence. “I’m sorry you went through that,” was all you said before a couple tears starting falling. “Hey, don’t cry. Come on, we should be patching you up like a potato head.” You chuckle in confusion, wiping a tear as he scoots closer to you. He was so weird.
“Like a potato head?” You question.
“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly. “Like, those weird doll things. That you put together and stuff? You can take off their eyes and mouth and then put them back on.”
“How does that relate to me?”
“Cause like.. you know. Putting you back together.”
“But I’m not broken.”
“Well no, but I mean, you’re not a potato either so don’t take it too literal, sweetheart.”
You hummed, smiling at him in silence. “You can patch me up,” you say after a moment. “I trust you. And besides, with these bruises, I don’t think I have the strength to turn too much.” He nods slightly and picks up the bandage again. “If you would be so kind, m’lady,” he says, mimicking the action of lifting up your shirt. You do exactly that, lifting up until it reaches right below your chest area. You saw Eddie’s face drop a little bit when he noticed your bruises, and it made your heart hurt.
It was a deep purple and it looked like it wasn’t done forming yet. The color circled from your belly button to your back, and went up about two or three inches. It was one hell of a bruise. Eddie had never seen anything like it. He was shocked this wasn’t from a car accident or something along those lines.
“Y/n,” he whispers, looking up at you. But he saw you were looking down with a slight redness to your face from embarrassment. So, Eddie being Eddie, he tried to make you feel better with the one thing he did best - humor!
“Ever go mechanical bull riding?” He asks, starting to wrap you up with the bandage. Very lightly, but it still hurt when you get his fingers graze your stomach. “What’s that?” You ask in curiosity. He looks up at you and scoffs. “What- wait, you don’t know what that is?!” He asks in disbelief. You smile and shake your head, as he mentally praises himself for helping you loosen up a bit. “You get on this mechanical bull, hence the name, and the operator tries to throw you off. It starts off slowly, but the longer you stay on, the quicker and harder it gets. Eventually you get thrown off. You only hold on with one hand though.”
You laugh, imagining yourself on it. “I’d get thrown off almost immediately. It sounds like a lot of fun though. I’d pay good money to see you ride it, Munson.” Eddie laughs, halting his hands and looking up at you. You were smiling wide now, almost as if nothing had happened within the last 24 hours. God, did he love your smile.
“Well guess what, sweetheart? I’ve gone on one before.” You gasp in surprise, your eyes widening as you lean closer to him. “No way!” You squeal. “Yep, no bullshit. Went with my band once and-“
“Corroded Coffin, right?”
He almost died right then and there.
“Y-yeah. That’s us,” he smiles. “Anyways, they dared me to do it,” he starts off, continuing to wrap you up. He was almost done. ”Once I got up there, it was actually decent. Stayed on for quite some time. Until that shit starting spinning. Let me just tell you, it was not a pleasant experience. Almost shit my pants and puked at the same time.” You laughed for probably the hundredth time tonight, and yet Eddie could listen to it until he died. He loved to make you laugh. It was his new favorite hobby.
He laughed along with you, finishing the wrapping of the bandage, admiring his work. You lower your shirt with a strain and a wince after a couple of minutes, causing him to look up at you. “You alright?” He asks in a sincere voice. You sigh, but nod. “As good as I can be. I just hope that little one out there is okay.” You say with as much concern as Eddie, turning your head to the door. “Oh he’s got a 5 star couch for the night. He’s more than okay, sweetheart.” He knew you meant about the whole situation. About your father and the fear and the hurt. But Eddie promised both you and himself that he’d protect the Henderson siblings. That meant both physically and emotionally. And he’s not one to ever break a promise.
You smile and put your hand on top of his, making him tense for a second. It was unexpected. “I can’t thank you enough.” He flips his hand and interlocks it with yours. “Don’t need to thank me sweetheart. It’s the bare minimum.”
You hum, knowing he’s right but still finding it a bit unbelievable that someone can be as funny and sweet as him. You hated how people called him a freak. You felt guilty for ever thinking of him other than a good guy. Dustin was right about him. He was so right.
“Anyways!” He says with enthusiasm, jumping up from the bed and slapping his thighs. “Let’s get you ready for bed, huh? It’s already..” he glances at his watch and is somewhat shocked. “12:17. Damn.” He opens his drawer, searching for some clothes he could give you. “Aha!” He says, similar to when he found your bandage. He pulls out a hellfire shirt, most likely an extra one since he was wearing his, and some black pajama shorts that were way too similar to boxers.
“I hope this is okay,” he asks. You smile as he places the clothes next to you on the bed. “It’s more than enough,” you reassure him. “Thank you Eddie.”
“Like I said sweetheart, no need to thank me.” He pulls out clothes for himself as well. An oversized Metallica shirt and red and black flannel pants. “How’s my outfit for the night?” He asks, putting the clothes up to his body and posing. You chuckle and shake your head slightly. “Makes you look like Metallica’s number one fan,” you joke. “Matter of fact, are you part of their band? With all the merch you have..” your voice trails off as Eddie smirks in satisfaction that you’re opening up to him.
“Ah, she’s got jokes, huh?”
“Guess you’re rubbing off on me, Eds.”
Eddie pauses, his breathing becoming a bit quicker than before. “E-Eds?” He repeats in a whisper. Your eyes widen in nervousness. “I’m sorry! I just thought that- I mean you call me sweetheart, so I thought a nickname for you would make sense. I’m sorry, I’ll stick with Eddie, I wasn’t thinking-“
“No!” He interrupts, making you stop talking. “I liked it. Trust me, I liked it. It was just unexpected, that’s all. Please, keep calling me that.” He knew he sounded kind of desperate, and he had to admit it was a bit embarrassing. But not to you. Your still expression turned into a happy one, as you bit on your bottom lip for a second. “Eds it is then,” you grin.
“I guess I am rubbing off on you, sweetheart. Nicknames, jokes. Third base for me is using humor to cope. Seems like you share that same trait, huh?” You chuckle, grabbing the clothes he left for you on the bed. “Don’t think so, Eds. Third base is me telling you about my father.” He smiles as you were able to make a small joke about the harsh events that had happened.
“Marriage seems like the next plausible option then,” he continues.
“Let’s elope.”
“Dibs on Dustin being my best man.”
“No fair, I wanted him as the flower girl!”
This time, it’s Eddie’s turn to laugh. Never in a million years had he thought he would be joking about third base and marriage with Y/n Henderson. Life surely is unpredictable.
“You go change now,” he says, his laugh fading a bit, but his smile ever faltering. “Let me check on Dustin.”
“Ever the babysitter,” you huff with a playful tone.
“Hey, that’s Harrington’s job.” You smile and glance at him once more, before disappearing into the bathroom with a click erupting from the bathroom lock.
Eddie is frozen in his room, replaying the encounter in his mind over and over again. You were definitely something else and he absolutely loved it.
You on the other hand were a blushing mess. “Okay,” you whisper to yourself, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The bathroom was quite small, considering it was a trailer home but you didn’t mind one bit. It was still spacey enough to change in.
After a couple minutes, you changed into the hellfire shirt and the shorts. The hellfire shirt was somewhat long on you, and when you would move a certain way, it made it seem like you didn’t have pants on. It made you chuckle a bit.
When you walked out of the bathroom and back into Eddie’s room, he was no where to be found. He was probably still checking in on Dustin and changing into clothes as well. You sat on the bed once more and lifted up the shirt to view the bandage. You ran your fingers along the material, feeling it’s rough surface. You winced a bit, but the bandage helped soothe the pain a lot.
You got back up after lowering the shirt and decided to explore Eddie’s room some more. Even though you did briefly before, it was cut short after he had caught you. You go over to his guitar hanging on the wall and play a couple of strings. It makes a small sound which causes your mind to drift to how and what Eddie would play. Definitely Metallica that’s for sure. You thought about if he would play Iron Maiden or even Möntley Crüe. After a couple minutes of thinking, you came to the conclusion that he for sure knew how to play songs from those two bands.
You shifted your attention the his nightstand beside his bed where you had previously found his dnd notebook. There were some cassette tapes and you knew you just had to go through them. What kind of music did Eddie Munson really listen to?
Majority of it was metal bands, of course, but there was one cassette that made you chuckle to yourself and smile widely.
Abba.
Eddie Munson listened to Abba. Maybe not religiously, like he did those other bands, but holy shit.
And as if on cue, Eddie walks through the door of his bedroom. The sight of you in a Hellfire shirt holding a Metallica and Abba cassette in each hand made his heart absolutely swoon. “I see someone’s snooping again,” he says with a bit of a shaky voice. Sure, his demeanor was confident, but seeing you in this way made his nervous. In a good way, of course.
“And yet again, I’m sorry,” you apologize. “But Abba?” You question. “No way the Edward Munson listens to Abba in his free time.” He scoffs at the name ‘Edward’ walking up to you and snatching the cassettes out of your hands, throwing them into his pajama drawer. “Calling me Edward makes me seem like an 80-year old grandpa.”
“You sure look like one.”
“Henderson with the jokes! Where is this coming from?”
“Like I said before Eddie, you’re rubbing off on me.”
“I think you’re right. I even have you in a Hellfire shirt.” Eddie couldn’t help but imagine that the shirt was his shirt. It was an exact match, they only had one design. It made him blush ever so slightly, but it went unnoticed by you.
“This is pretty comfy,” you say with happiness, gripping the ends of the shirt and hopping on his bed. You yawn softly and he notices, turning on the lamp next to him bed. “Why don’t you sleep, sweetheart? It’s been a long day, you need to rest.”
You nod slightly, getting under his comforter and laying down. He shuts off the overhead light and walks over to you, smiling while looking down at you. You meet his gaze and smile. “I know you told me not to thank you Eddie, but that’s all I can say right now. Thank you for helping me and Dustin.” He smiles at your kind words and nods, not trusting his voice to respond. He turns around to leave, but he feels you grab his wrist. He doesn’t move his body but turns his head so he’s looking at you once more.
“Where are you going?” You ask, a slight worry hidden in your voice. “I’ll just be in Uncle Wayne’s room. It’s right across the hall.” He tries to reassure you but your grip on his wrist doesn’t falter. “Please don’t go,” you whisper, making his heart beat faster than he thinks it ever has. “I.. I don’t want to be alone. I’ll know you’ll be in the other room but-“
Eddie doesn’t allow you to finish. With his other hand, he grabs yours that’s on his wrist and smiles widely at you. “Y-Yeah,” he stutters a bit. “Of course I’ll stay.”
He walks over to the other side of the bed and grabs a pillow, ready to set up on the floor. You sit up in his bed and look over at him. “What are you doing?” You ask, hands folded in your lap. “Setting up on the floor,” he says nonchalantly. “Oh..” you say in disappointment, and this doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” You bit your lower lip in hesitancy. “Nothing, I just.. is it weird to ask if you c-can stay up here.. with me? I mean, the bed is big enough for both of us- obviously you know that, it’s your bed,” Eddie chuckles as you ramble on. “You don’t have to sleep with me- n-not like that, obviously! I mean if you don’t want to l-like.. fuck, I’m totally botching this, huh? I’m gonna go crawl in a hole.”
Eddie laughs, putting the pillow back on the opposite side of the bed and tilting his head toward you, silent for a moment. “Yeah that totally sucked,” he admitted, making you throw a pillow at him. It hits his face but he catches it before it hits the floor, making you laugh for a second. “Shut up,” you scoff. He sits on the bed with a hop, handing you back the pillow. You put it back under your head and lie back down. He looks at you as you snuggle yourself in his comforter, wondering what it would be like to see you like this every night. Magical is the only word he could come up with.
Soon he mimics your actions and turns toward you as you stare up to the ceiling. You were silent, the injuries on your face still very much evident. Eddie took his time to really take in your appearance, past the bruises.
Your side profile was beautiful. He had never seen anything like it and mentally degraded himself for ever ignoring you. You looked peaceful just laying on his bed and wearing his clothes. He allowed his mind to drift to what it would be like to go star gazing with you, or even take you out to Lovers Lake and have a picnic. He normally hates doing those sorts of things. It just wasn’t his style. But the more he got to know you, the more he realized that he’d do anything you’d ask him do. Dare he say, even listen to Tears for Fears and The Cure.
Your voice brought him out of his little daydream, as he realized you were now facing toward him and your lips were moving. “You’re not uncomfortable, are you?” You ask with concern. “Not one bit,” he admits a little too quickly. You smile, relaxing a bit and turning back to face the ceiling. “I hate that this is my life,” you whisper, causing Eddie’s smile to drop. He doesn’t say anything though. He just allows you to continue. “I just want a family. I want Dustin and I to be able to sit at a dinner table with others besides just us two. I want to talk about nonsense and have someone listen to me anyways because they care about me. I just want someone besides Dustin to care about me.”
“I care about you.”
“You basically just met me. You didn’t know me before.”
“And look at the impact you made. I could listen to you talk for hours.”
You turn your head to Eddie once again, feeling your heart race. “Really?” You whisper in disbelief. “Are you kidding?” He whispers back. “I was a fool to not have known you sooner. We could’ve been eating those microwaved dinners together and talked about nonsense for years!” You smile at the mention of microwaved dinners. Sure they tasted like shit most of the time, but they provided you comfort. Dustin too. He must’ve told Eddie about them.
“Maybe we can do that then,” you say with some confidence. “Like every Saturday or Sunday or something. The Henderson’s and the Munson’s. If that’s okay with Wayne, of course!” You had never met Wayne, but just by the way Eddie’s eyes lit up at his name, you knew he was a good parental figure toward him. “That sounds perfect, sweetheart. I’m sure Dustin would love it. Maybe we can teach you and Wayne to play dnd.” You chuckle at the thought of you playing the one game you swore you never would. Yet when Eddie mentioned the idea, you couldn’t help but feel hopeful that it would become a reality. “I actually really like that idea, Eds,” you admit. He hums and you could hear the happiness he radiates.
“I’m tired,” you whisper. “Sleep then, sweetheart. We’ve always got tomorrow to talk and goof around.”
“Eds?”
“Yes?”
“Are we friends?”
“I think sleeping in the same bed unlocks that level of our bond, don’t you think?”
“I do. I just wanted to make sure you thought the same way.”
“Don’t worry. We’re on the same page.”
You felt your eyes getting heavier as each word spilled past your lips. Sooner or later, you had fallen asleep, not even realizing the lingering touch of Eddie’s hand on yours.
Hours later, you presume, you woke up to a bright light shining through Eddie’s beat up window. You felt very warm, and looked down to realize that you were tangled up with Eddie, kind of like a knot. You felt your face heat up almost immediately when you say how your head rested on his chest and your legs were engulfed in his. His arms were wrapped around your figure, somewhat keeping you from moving or shifting without waking him up. You had to admit, it was the most comfortable you had been in a while.
You look up and see Eddie snoring slightly, his eyes closed and his mouth in a small smile. You wondered if he was dreaming and what it was about. While admiring him, his eyes fluttered open and instantly, he made eye contact with you. His raspy voice comes out in a whisper. “Hello sweetheart.” You smile at him and yawn, nodding to reciprocate the greeting. “How long have you been awake?” He asks, not breaking eye contact with you. “Just a couple of minutes,” you admit. Before he could respond, a harsh opening of the bedroom door startles you both, causing you to break eye contact and glance at the door. It was Dustin.
“Eddie! Where the hell is the milk? I’ve been looking for-“ his little rant was cut short when he takes in how you and Eddie are in each other’s arms, in the same bed, under the same sheets. “Please don’t tell me you two were fucking!” Dustin screams, turning around quickly. A deep blush creeps on your face almost instantly as Eddie starts to laugh. “Dustin!” You scold. “We weren’t- God, I need to teach you how to speak properly.”
“We’re out of milk,” Eddie says nonchalantly. You wondered how he could be so chill about what Dustin said, but when you looked up at him, you realized his cheeks were just as red as yours. It made you smile.
“How can you not have milk?” Dustin protests, turning back around to make eye contact with Eddie. “And more importantly, why the hell are you all over my sister?”
“He’s not all over me!” You yell, causing Dustin to roll his eyes. “I can see his hands wandering!”
“You must be hallucinating because his hands are-“
Before you could finish though, you were interrupted by Eddie’s fingertips circling your right thigh under the sheets. There was no way Dustin could see, but you would still deny it until your last breath. At first, you were confused why Eddie was doing what he was, until you looked up at him to see he was smirking but not looking toward you.
He was teasing you.
“J-Just go drink s-something else,” you stutter, trying hard to ignore the butterflies erupting in your stomach as he grips your thigh. “But I want milk!” Dustin says, stomping his foot. Eddie then speaks up. “Henderson, how about you drink some water? Stay hydrated, huh?” You were glad Eddie spoke up when he did. You didn’t trust your voice to not crack or stutter. Dustin huffs in annoyance, and leaves Eddie’s room with a quiet close of the door. One thing you had taught him was to never slam doors. Once Dustin was out of view, you slapped Eddie slightly on the chest.
“What the hell was that?!” You ask, getting up out of his embrace. You felt cold without him. “No way you’re mad at me,” Eddie fights back with a smile, getting up with a stretch. “I’m not mad, I’m just..” you didn’t really know how to feel. “Turned on?” Eddie jokes, which causes you to throw a pillow at him. “Am not!” You contradict, chuckling as he catches what you threw. “Sure Henderson, deny it all you want.” All you do is scoff playfully, looking at him with a smile. “Eds-“
“Go on a date with me.”
Your eyes widen in confusion and surprise at his sudden boldness. “W-What?” You stutter. He was on one side of the bed with you standing on the other side, so the distance wasn’t too far. “Stop me if I’m reading this wrong but I enjoy hanging out with you,” he admits. “And yeah, I love being your friend now but.. I want to care for you in a different way. I don’t want to apologize for my lingering touches or glance at you only when you’re not looking. I want to try with you. And hey, if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. But I want to try this, Y/n.”
Y/n. That’s how you knew he was serious. Not sweetheart this time, but your actual name.
You were silent for a second before walking over to his side of the bed and smiling up at him. “I never would’ve thought that Edward Munson would be asking Y/n Henderson out on a date.”
“Again with the Edward.” You chuckle and pull him into a hug, which he doesn’t mind reciprocating. “Of course I’ll go on a date with you,” you accept. Your soft voice tickles his neck but he doesn’t care, it felt good.
“Yeah?” He whispers.
“Are you kidding?” You say, pulling away from him. “I’d be a fool not to. You helped me and my brother so much, it only proved how good of a guy you are. I want this, Eds. I want to try with you.”
He smiles, looking down at you. You’ve never seen him smile like that, not even when he’s playing dnd.
“Eddie! Get your ass out of that room! I want fucking milk!” You both hear Dustin scream with a voice crack. You laugh along side Eddie, not breaking eye contact. “Your brother is a handful.”
“What gave you that idea?”
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yowyowyaoi · 3 months
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Scenes or Comic Panels I Would Draw If I Could Draw BC Some Of My Chatpost Ideas I See Better As Pictures Not Words, Part Three.
Deidara and Hidan noticing that Zetsu seems really down in the winter months, so they help him by stealing him a heat-lamp and helping him to prune himself by picking off his yellow or dead leaves and giving him little bags of premium fertilizer (and Zetsu eating from the bags with a spoon like ice cream).
After sex, Nagato and Konan laying in bed together. Konan resting on top of Nagato, him with his hands on her hips. Him making a comment that having her on top of him feels like a nice, warm weighted blanket. Konan only hears "weight" and says "So ... you're saying I'm fat?" and before he can think of a non-offensive answer she gets up and storms out of the room. Hidan happened to hear it and tells the others and the next day all of them make pointed jokes about things being heavy when Nagato is around. He eventually Shinra Tensei's all of them. Konan laughs so hard she kisses him and forgives him.
Deidara and Sasori at an art museum. Run into Itachi and Kisame there. Kisame comments how sweet the two of them look holding hands. Sasori tells them that there's nothing romantic about it; if he doesn't keep hold of at least one of Deidara's hands he's going to reach into his pocket and bring out his matches and light the paintings on fire to make them more "artistic".
Hidan and Deidara having a chicken wing eating contest. Hidan pretends to choke on a bone to fake Deidara out but Deidara isn't buying it. Kakuzu comes into the room and comments something like " If you can handle mine, there's no reason you should be choking on THAT tiny bone, Hidan." Deidara starts choking for real.
Kisame telling Konan how to learned to use a gentle touch with Itachi by practicing holding cats first. Cuts back and forth between showing Kisame holding cats that are clawing and scratching him when annoyed, to Itachi kicking and biting at him when he's annoyed. Kisame telling Konan that Itachi is more like a cat than she'd think. Itachi then comes into the room and circles the fridge several times and Kisame tells him that No, he already had his dinner, and Itachi puffs up and hisses at him, and Kisame takes a little spray bottle from his pocket and squirts Itachi's nose with it.
Obito and Deidara’s son at school, say kindergarten, and the teacher calls in the parents for a meeting. She tells the two that their son has been drawing “questionable” things during art class. Shows them the pictures and it’s a whole series of Obito and Deidara “playing leapfrog” with each other. Obito is hella embarrassed and keeps apologizing and saying they’ll have a talk with the kid and get a lock for their bedroom door. But Deidara has tears in his eyes and is going “Look at what TALENT my son has, hm!” and asking if he can take the pictures home to hang on the fridge and the teacher and Obito are just staring at him like 😐
Young adults Kakashi and Obito having a “date night” in Obito’s room. Awkwardly flirting all night. But every time one of them do much as leans in for a kiss, Obito’s “grandpa” Madara comes into the room. First to ask if Obito finished his chores. Then to bring in a tray of milk and cookies. THEN he sends little Sasuke in the room to ask annoying questions, and Sasuke is accompanied by his “special friend” Naruto who’s excited to see his Sensei and each boy is too oblivious to realize that they’re interrupting obkk’s date until Itachi finally comes back from a mission and drags them out. And finally, finally when the two think they’re free, they start making out, but right in the middle of it Madara calls out from down the hallway that it’s time for Obito to give him his bath. Kakashi (not for the first time) asks Obito why he doesn’t just move out of his clan’s home and get one of the Jonin apartments in the city like Kakashi himself has. Obito starts to reply that it’s not so bad when Madara calls out again bring the heavy duty toenail clippers because he’s got some “monsters” growing on his feet. And Obito looks at Kakashi and asks how much the rents are in the Jonin apartments.
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azulaoi · 2 months
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Old AA writings: Life with Andrew (Revised ver.)
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Andrew x Darling (M4A)
𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: idk lol, see end of notes.
✨This writing is SFW✨
Life with Andrew
By: Azulaoi
"Goodness, I'm so tired," you sighed as you put your highlighters aside and stretched. Its been a rough start ever since you started working as a part-time writing editor, with an overload of papers needing to be tended. Although it was truly difficult, you knew taking a job opportunity would be very important for you and Andrew's income. This was also a great chance to build up your work experience.
With so much in mind, you thought, "hm... I want to relax. I don't want to put too much thought into this." You look around the room, "seems like Andrew isn't home yet.". Andrew started working full-time at the British Museum. It wasn't too surprising since he was previously a university professor. Plus, he's been working on achieving his PHD for the time being also. Seeing him busy most of the time, made you feel somewhat lonely... But you knew that he would make time for you. Even if it's the littlest time, you both cherished it nevertheless.
You got up and walked towards the kitchen to hear the front door handle twist. The door opens swiftly, revealing a tall slender suited man with string glasses. "Andrew! You are finally home!", you smiled and blushed as you rushed towards him, giving him a big hug. He chuckles, "heh, missed me?". You nuzzle your head against his chest, "of course I have! Why wouldn't I? To be honest, I've been missing you ever since you walked out of the door this morning.". He smiles, giving you a kiss on your forehead, "I also missed you too, [name].".
You slightly pull away from his embrace, caressing his cheek gently. "He looks... Tired," you thought. Moving your hand smoothly against his soft skin, he couldn't help but hold your hand in return. "Your hands are cold...", he says raising his eyesbrows. You quickly moved your hands away apologizing, "I am sorry! It's been cold for the past couple of days. My hands have been freezing drastically...". He shakes his head smiling, "aha, it's alright. Your hands aren't that cold, darling. So, don't apologize.". He pats your head and makes his way to the bedroom.
You follow him towards the room, only to see him undressing himself; loosening his tie, removing it with his slim fingers. Your eyes widen when he begins to unbutton his shirt, slowly sliding it smoothly off his elegant torso. You felt your cheeks burn at the sight of his exposed chest. "How long are you going to stand there?", he says slightly raising his voice. Caught from your stare, you jumped. You walked into the bedroom, your cheeks blazing hot in embarrassment. You sighed, "alright... You got me.". He throws a smirk at your direction and continues to undress.
He sits on the edge of the bed, tilting his head to the side, giving you a desired look. You apologized once more, "I'm sorry for lurking like that.". He laughs, "haha! No, it's okay. I don't mind it, I kind of like it. Love the way you look at me, especially when your cheeks are bright red.". You pout in response as he gets up and grabs a towel from his nightstand. "Are you going going to bathe?", you asked. He replied, "after a long day of work, of course. As you said earlier, it's been quite cold for the past few days, including today. A warm bath should suffice.". He walks towards the bathroom but stops midway, turning to you, "you are free to join me, if you like. I wouldn't mind some company.".
Many thoughts whirled around your mind, like a whirlwind. But only a question remained, "should I join him? I don't want to seem like a bother to him. Then again, he did say he wouldn't mind some company.". You were indecisive and couldn't make up your mind at that moment.
After much deliberation, you decide not to disturb him. "I think I'll join him next time. I want him to have some time to himself," you thought to yourself, "while I'm at it, I'll brew him some tea for now.". As you begin to turn on the stove, you were suddenly reminded of something, "crap, we don't have anymore tea...". You thought of heading to the store to get more, but you were too tired to go out. To make up for the loss of tea, you settled on some wine.
Other than wine, there wasn't anything else to drink. "I think it's best to go grocery shopping tomorrow. We are missing a lot.", you sighed, "maybe I'll order dinner tonight, but I'll wait to see what he wants to eat.". You patiently paced around the kitchen for a bit, then sat by the counter; watching Oscar and Wilde swim aimlessly in their fish bowl.
Not much long, you hear the bathroom door click, revealing a handsome wet hair figure standing in front of bathroom door way. "Sorry for the long wait. Showers really do take up a significant amount of time," he laughs. Your cheeks once again, began to flush wildly from the sight of him. You wanted to look away but you couldn't take your eyes off him. He looks at you with a confused look on his face, "are you... Okay? Is something the matter?". You couldn't say anything, but simply stand there as your cheeks continue to blush brighter.
Your eyes and mind wander about his wet features. Seeing his gorgeous messy dripping hair, droplets of water draped alongside his delectable skin, and a white towel wrapped around his waist. You've seen the same man half naked a thousand times, yet you still get flustered by the sight of him. You stare at his bare chest, avoiding his gaze, but catches your stare soon on. "[Name]? What's wrong? You've been staring at me for awhile. Do I have something on my face?", he asks raising an eyebrow. Your heart skips a beat and peer upwards to see his concerned eyes looking down at you. You blinked rapidly smiling, "I'm fine... Nothing to worry about!".
You didn't want to admit that you were staring and admiring each frame of this man's physique. You wanted to lessen the awkward between the both of you but your mind couldn't stop salivating about his body. Before you could speak up, Andrew sighs, "you don't need to tell me if you don't want to. I understand-", you interrupted him laughing, "haha! I wasn't holding anything personal against you. It's just...". Before you could express yourself, you gaze at his pecs making you hold your breath. "I want to tell him so badly...", you kept repeating to yourself.
You cleared your throat, "ahem, could I... Tell you something?". He replies with a small hmm. "Are you hungry?," you asked. He seemed a little surprised by your response but didn't question it, "not going to lie, yes. Other than a sandwich, I haven't eaten anything else today. What about you?". You two continue to converse about what you two wanted eat for dinner. You lose yourself in the conversation, forgetting the awkward moment you had a few minutes ago. However, you felt something suspicious behind those brown chocolate eyes of his. "Does he know?", you thought to youself, "no, I don't think he does...".
When you finished ordering the food you two agreed upon, Andrew heads back to the bedroom to change. You called out to him, "wait... Could you stay here a bit longer?". He turns and smiles at you, "don't worry, I'll be back. What? Do you like what you see?". You felt your heart go berserk as you screamed internally, "he knows!!". He chuckles, "aha, I'm joking! Unless?". He throws another smirk at you, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. You roll your eyes at him, "oh my goodness, just go change! I don't want to be staring at you and your bare beautiful chest-," you clasp your mouth shut before you could elaborate any further.
Andrew looks at you wide eyed for a moment, followed by a few chuckles, "heh, I knew it. Staring at is no surprise when it comes to you, [name].". He then proceeds back into the bedroom. You slap your face grunting in disappointment, "he always gets me... But how though? Do I make it that obvious? Or is it because he's that good at catching people off guard?". Guess you'll never know...
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This writing is one of my writings from Twitter, originally part of my little "Life with Andrew" series. I went back to this writing to revise it a little bit since the first draft didn't look the best. If there are grammatical errors or just errors in general, I apologize 🥹.
FYI, if it says "Old AA writings" it means Old Azulaoi (AA for short) Writings.
Love y'all Crumpets!
- Azulaoi 💙
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hamster-on-fire · 2 months
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New fic!! (lost fic with some x files sprinkled in there) 👽🏝️
i keep losing my tag list so if anyone wants to be on it let me know i guess :)). anyway, this is my x files/lost kate-centric oneshot crossover 💗🤓 hopefully if you have my brain this will bring you entertainment.
@today-in-fic
THE ACTOR OF SAM AUSTEN APPEARED ONE (1!) TIME ON THE X FILES, IN RED MUSEUM (txf s2 ep10), AS A GOVERNMENT/ALIEN-ENABLER ASSASSIN GUY, SO THIS IS WHERE THAT COMES FROM. it won't make any sense if you don't know that going in 😂🤓
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When she is eight, her daddy comes home with blood down his shirt.
Not Wayne. The good one. But he slams the door like Wayne, half-scarlet and stunned.
She is sitting straight up in the ash-dark of her bedroom, flush of eight-year-old, dinner-table fury wilting on her soft cheeks. Diane had yelled at her, eyes smudged and heavy, over muddied clothes; over knee-grazes, and tonight’s clammy meatloaf - the precise hue of Katherine’s pinkish, peeling skin, rage-kissed through the fresh rip in her jeans - cooling in a slab on her plate.
She’s started calling her ‘Diane’, how Wayne does, when her anger doesn’t fit right inside her. She got hit for that. But not tonight.
She had waited up the first ten minutes in anticipation. That her Mama would snap back into the room with sharper words and clearer eyes. And when she didn’t, she let soft hope keep her awake, lingering like an old smell: hope that she’d slip inside and mutter an apology against her hair. Like she sometimes did.
But she doesn’t.
The dark is so still she can make out the graze of Diane’s bare feet roaming the hall.
So still, she hears the blood before she sees it.
It’s his own, and makes ‘pat-pat-pat’ sounds on the lino. It looks like tiny ruby footsteps, through the crack in her bedroom door - fairy footsteps - something little girls are not to hear, creeping their way around the house when all are tucked in.
It’s the first in a trail of things she should not see, or want, or be, that tangles at her ankle. And when she is weary and story-worn, and a second-time-tragedy drops her in the water like a fallen star, she wants to let it drown her. She will see things she should not, run hand-cuff-less hands down the mane of a horse where it cannot be. Horses in the jungle.
Horsies on her walls, eyes wild, paint-glossed, watch her watch the bloodied stranger, her father’s shadow stuffed with flesh, all wrong and pale. Alien with sweat. Frightened eyes all round. Steps in stasis, they forever run the circuit of her ceiling. Legs bent. Forever running.
He’s been away, promising he’d be back in the country for her next birthday. In the vicinity of, anyway. But that’s still months away.
Through the split in her bedroom door, she watches him, like a wild animal, his inflamed face studded with busted eyes. They scrape over their mantlepiece like a ghost, like it’s hurting him to do so, with a mournful 6-months-gone gaze. As if trailing them through the picture-frame dust could twist him back, to an 8th-birthday-visit, house freshly-dusted, to a bloodless-lino lounge.
He lifts one of them - she’s frozen on his arm in her best dress and grinning, inside it. He holds it like a puppet with snipped strings: with heavy arms, loose grip. The plastic frame seems to dance on the edge of his open hand, the most beautiful thing in the room. Katie smells sweat, crouched in the dark.
‘Sam?’
The voice is full of strange edges; wavy lines and sparks - not enough to be mostly joy. The half of Diane's face exposed through the door is pale.
He doesn’t turn; but he rattles like silver in a storm.
The crash has Katie’s heart thudding in her gut, photo-frame glass in blades on the floor. Her mum comes in barefoot. Draws in. To where her dad has started to cry.
The photo lies staring at the ceiling, shining with glass and blood. Katie watches, from her distance, how it trickles down the curve of her face, staining her freckles, her favourite cardigan.
Her mum touches his shoulder. He shakes.
She doesn’t understand that feeling, yet - of watching bloodstains chase your fingertips. Of ruin in your wake. Not until she’s in Tom’s kitchen, too far gone, and he looks at her, over fresh coffee at her chin, in a mug plastered with his son’s tiny stop-sign handprint, like he loves her. And she lets him.
Like father, like daughter, she supposes. Or whatever.
Sam sinks his head down, against Diane’s shirt, which Katie knows smells like diner grease and cigarettes. The radio rumbles through her wall like ocean-static. They shiver, in a strange, shaky waltz - her mother’s wrist in his hand, rough like the grip of a pistol. He holds it close to his lips, leans his aching head against it. Like she’s seen Wayne do on thick-smelling late-nights, Diane with an ice-pack on angry, bar-beaten skin.
Her father has his eyes closed, like she is the cool stone of faithful, ancient sanctuary to a fever pitch. She will not look at him with her wide-open stare.
Behind the door, Katie thinks of her Mama as frail for the first time. With bird’s bones, hollow, to be stuffed with love, and cotton, and deeds and deeds, needing to be held just so - like air - against her Daddy’s face, spit shining on his shaking lower lip like a cobweb dressed in dew as it streaks down his chin, glinting like an eye-twinkle at her and her gap-in-the-door.
He cups her face - barely, like he might break it - on the side Kate can’t see. But she could pick out with her cheapest crayon set the shot shade of purple it’s been all day; had tried not to meet the bloom of it by her eye at the breakfast table, or look at it when she talked back… something like sympathy nudging her head down.
Katie watches their soft swaying where the kitchen and lounge bleed together, bruised and quiet.
‘Diane, Diane, Diane…’, he says, like a song. Like lullabies Katie knows from Saturday afternoon cartoons. Her Mama’s bare feet squeak, soft like the catch of a breath, along the floor.
At breakfast the next morning, Katie holds her breath, for him to come padding out the bedroom to smile at her, and explain. When her cereal is mush in the bottom of her bowl, and her mum is still silent, she asks when he might come back, when could she see him?
Diane frowns. ‘Not for a while, don’t think - you heard him, he’ll see you for your birthday. Like last year.’
The bloodied shirt and the picture frame disappear with that week’s trash.
She doesn't see him till June, when she pretends she has forgotten.
It’s 1994 and she’s 17. He clatters through the door so loud her keys tremble on the counter where she’s been staring at them the past hour.
He moves like Wayne in a temper; a sharp tug, and he has her head pressed tight against him, wrapped up in the crook of his elbow. She sips small frightened breaths against the cave of his ribcage - like the crack in a bedroom door - and feels his lungs shake. When he lets go, he peels something like a shell off his chest, black and dented, second-skin-shedding.
Half of Scully’s bullet rattles on their kitchen floor, the only sound as sharp as Wayne’s motorbike at midnight. She flinches.
‘Lights! Lights in the sky! That’s what they want. No appetite for truth. Let me tell ‘ya, folks, there’s more out there than I could possibly -’
The man on the radio, she realises, is rambling - aliens, and governments, working together to do impossible things. She hadn’t thought to turn it off. But now she wants to. Desperately. Just to not have to look at him.
There’s stubble on the curve of his jaw, like she’s never seen. He must have been moving for days. Or maybe hiding.
‘There is no doubt in my mind - no doubt! - that these things cannot! Cannot! Belong in a “natural” world, and you people-’
‘You believe in that stuff, Katie?’
And she goes to laugh at him, but he looks strange; only half-there. Like he’s looking through her skull. Amusement slumps and dies on her lips. Like a doctor against an airbag, with kind eyes and pocket aeroplanes, half-warm when it first sits in her un-held hand.
Her dad scrapes his breath back in, heaves out an almost death, sighs away the feel of the bullet at his chest. An escape. Death paws at their door, snarling. Too big to slink down the chimney. 
She will see this again. Or want to, anyway. The warm glow of a face half-back from the dead. She yearns for it, in Australia, on her first sleepless nights, when she starts to forget how it sounds, to be called by her real name in the dark, dreaming of another impossible getaway: that he gets out the car - that he listens , and runs. Runs home to his gleaming wife; a baby, with dark eyes, no freckles. A life so wholly without her, that he’s whole. Wholly whole, no bullet holes in the windshield. No blood down his uniform. No plane in her pocket. And she never sees him again and that is fine . He’s fine.
And she will wonder, if she could've traded the two - this and that - if she'd feel less alone. If he’d call her once in a while. If he’d look.
Her dad is too close, too real, breath hot on her hair, revelling in the spooked life clutched to his ribcage again; revelling in the familiarity of her unblinking, frantic eyes.
‘God, good god- HA! I thought I was dead. I thought I was- I saw a man whose kid died. I saw his eyes, Katie. I don’t ever wanna look at anyone like that. Hear? So you-’, There’s something in his eyes that makes her need to cry, sudden and strange, like backwards drowning, rising up her throat. ‘-Be safe, ok? Promise it.’
She went to answer; couldn’t make more than a sharp exhale against his shoulder.
‘Promise me Katie. I know y- ha , I know you’re… angry, I know how you’re. Burning to get out.’
She feels half her size, stock-still, trying to catch a whiff of the bar on his rattled breath. But he’s not Wayne.
‘These things are not friendly, folks - no sir, if you think-’
He knocks it where it stands on the counter and it’s finally quiet.
‘Come ‘ere, baby. Come.’
He gets blood on her slippers, clawing through his own hands as they lock around her back. She doesn’t ask if it’s all his. But it’s not. The slippers are pink and matted, clammy round her feet as she feels her veins shake inside of them. Stains like an ellipses trailing down her ankle - more to come, there’s more to come .
When she crashes on an island that cannot exist, she has forgotten it all. All but the moment she couldn’t breathe past his terror.
When she sits on her bed that night, she sees how the horses watch her, with that old stare. She bolts her door, quiet as she can, and swears the stars are all wrong. Swears she can feel them drawing in, slipping their gaze in through the gap in her curtains.
‘Turn that off, Mulder’
They are running, and Scully’s milk has been dried up for 2 whole years, before flight 815 crashes, a million miles away, with that 8-year-old onboard. Not that they say such things. A black car streaks down the road by the motel at 4am, when Scully is pacing with a pillow at her chest, feeling insane. She almost hears it mewling against her. Her head is cluttered and weary. Mulder bleeds in and out of sleep till 6, half an eye watching grey-tint images of planes and boats and “mysterious” sightings of fog flick across the crummy TV.
Then there is the news. A lottery winner and a murderer on a missing plane.
Scully catches the blur of the car when it comes again at 8, without headlights this time, and sighs.
They couldn’t see the face behind the tinted glass if they tried; the face that cannot know that as they clatter out the motel back door, restless, half-dead, the blare of the TV left running paints his daughter’s tired face in black-and-white, among the missing, among the dead. She looks just like her father.
If it plays in Diane’s hospital room - if she sees it - she does not call him.
Sam Austen circles the block again. They’ve almost certainly left already. Ah well. He shoots twice through the window just to be sure, scatters glass on their empty bed, the pillow slipped under their arms, into their car. Scully holds it all the way to wherever is next. Like a long-gone baby. Like a longer-gone little girl, who they would’ve strapped in behind them and driven away from it all, if they could. They couldn’t. Doomed to leave their best behind.
Kate will, too, one day, when she has a child to lose. It is the way of things. When she stands at Sam’s desk and asks him for a goodbye - when she leaves - he does not look for her. When she has a child to lose, she will lose him. She does.
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thanks for reading!! 💗❤️
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klonnieshippersclub · 5 months
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Where You Belong (Runaway Hope AU) Pt.2
In celebration of reaching 100 followers, here’s part 2 of the Runaway Hope AU (Where You Belong) from @cancerian-woman and @mythorhuman . Thanks so much for this special gift! More Klonnie works to come with Klonnie Weekend from Dec. 29 to Jan. 1. Please see Part One Here.
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To Bonnie’s surprise, she chickened out. Bonnie knew that she was not a coward, but she couldn’t bring herself to dial the old number she had for Klaus. She did NOT want to hear the laughter in his hypnotically smooth voice. It was seductive, and she did NOT need to be distracted as he inevitably taunted her for accidentally kidnapping his child. 
Maybe it was her social anxiety kicking in. It was easier to pretend to be more extroverted in her life before vampires. She was a former cheerleader, so being in crowds didn’t scare her. However, constantly being in danger did kill her social skills. Who even talks on the phone anymore? A text will do.
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  That man was ridiculous and had Bonnie aching to pull her hair out. Oh, how he knew the best ways to push all her buttons. She didn’t even send him her address but knew Klaus would find her. Her fingers fidgeted with nerves. It had been some time since she last faced an Original. Since then, she’s kicked the devil’s ass and stomped out hellfire. It wasn’t his physical strength that scared her. Bonnie was more concerned about the impact seeing Klaus would have on Hope.
Bonnie truly adored the youngest Mikaelson in the family, and she hoped that Klaus knew she would never harm a child. She was fully aware of his paranoia regarding threats to his family. The girl hadn’t seen her family in some time. Was Klaus showing up just to abandon her for the best? Bonnie didn’t think so.
She knew Hope would be excited to see her father. The disappointment from the child and parent parting again would crush Hope’s soul. All she could do was spend the rest of the day distracting Hope. When Bonnie first told Hope she would contact her father, the girl looked slightly distressed as she anticipated a lecture from her dad. Aware of their shared love for art, Bonnie planned to drag Hope to a museum before dinner, and then they could practice a little ballet before bed.
Hours in the early morning, Bonnie heard repeated knocks on her door. It was dawn, and some stranger seemed determined to get her attention. The Bennett witch hopped out of bed in her lilac satin nightgown with lace trim and reached for the matching robe. She rushed to the door with determination to end the knocking before Hope awakened. Bonnie pulled open the door to discover that it was NOT a stranger.
“What the hell, Klaus?” Bonnie asked with a dramatic eye roll. She was holding back the urge to slam the door in his face.
Klaus eyed her in the short nightgown before answering. “Hello, my little witch. My, have you grown, and yet it almost looks like you’ve barely aged.”
Bonnie wrapped the robe she was carrying around herself. She hated that she didn’t hate his stare and the way his eyes admired her body. “Dying over and over again is the best anti-aging solution out there. That and magic.”
“On to important things, where is my daughter?” Klaus shifted from playful to stern as he looked behind Bonnie. There was a coldness in his glare as he barged into Bonnie’s living room with the intent of finding his daughter.
“She is upstairs in my guest bedroom. Hope has my ancestor’s talisman around her neck that should protect her from the Hollow long enough for you to bring her back to school.”
The hybrid sighed in disbelief at the ludicrous nature of this situation. His child had run from the Salvatore Boarding School, and the only teacher to contact him about Hope being gone was across the ocean. “That school clearly isn’t capable of watching her. You know, Hope has written to me about you and your impact on her life.” There had to be another boarding school more qualified to care for Hope.
“Oh yeah? Did you write back?” With an arched brow, Bonnie couldn’t help but voice how unimpressed she was by Klaus’ lack of communication with Hope.
Didn’t the Bennett witch know all about doing things for the betterment of others? Not speaking with Hope hurt him as much as it pained his daughter. “Limited contact was for the best.”
“Hope needs her parents. She needs her family and not to be sent to a boarding school where she feels like an outcast.”
“Thank you for caring for my daughter, Ms. Bennett, but you are not her parent.”
“Maybe I should be,” Bonnie challenged with her hands on her hips. Both Klaus and Bonnie turned at the sound of little feet scampering towards them.
“Daddy!” the redhead child appeared at the top of the stairs. She rushed down each step and launched herself into her father’s arms. Finally, everything felt right to Hope. She had her two favorite people in the world with her. It felt like home. A part of Hope longed for the three of them to be a family.
Thank you to @mythorhuman and @cancerian-woman again for this beautiful AU! I can’t wait to see more works from the Klonnie fans out there.
-Rikki
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museum-spaces · 2 years
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I'm really sorry to bother you, but I've been thinking about studying Museology and have read a lot of your posts (and those of people you've reblogged), and a few of those have been about the ethics of displaying corpses versus in some cases reburying them (which sounds like a very interesting dilemma considering that {in the opinion of someone who doesn't know a lot about museums} museums often are about preserving artifacts) - how often do questions like these come up? Can you avoid them?
not a bother at all dear nerd.
to quote a curator i used to work for 'people don't learn from bodies'
she was speaking about mummified human remains - i am not going to call them corpses as that is too clinical for what museums do. mummified human remains are somebody's ancestor. somebody's grandfather/mother/auntie/cousin/etc. all it takes for me to see the ethical quandary is to question if i would want my own grandmother displayed in a case in 100 years. - the answer is no i would want her body to remain in private for rest until she becomes earth again.
what that curator was talking about is how the macabre tends to shock and fascinate many guests without them questioning or learning anything new from the display. a museum that did it very badly had a human head on a stick with interpretation that said something like 'do you think i'm scary'. i can't tell you what else was in that gallery because there was a human being on a stick there. this institute has since re-displayed their human remains much more ethically - in a gallery off to one side with notices on the doors about the ancestors resting there.
from the position of museums having human remains will always change the landscape of the gallery. your display will become about the remains instead of about the culture they are taken from. you will always have issues with originating communities wanting their ancestors back - repatriation 101 - and they will be right to demand their return. they change the landscape of education in the gallery and more than that.
on the other side of the coin is the issue of consent. consent is not just for the bedroom. we as museum guests do not consent to walking into a random gallery and being confronted by a human head on a stick. we just don't. not all visitors would necessarily have an issue with that but i know one woman who had nightmares for years after visiting that gallery.
culturally speaking, not everyone is blase about human remains, many cultures disallow viewings and many parents do not want to have to explain to their children what death is in the middle of a museum. taking away the cultural context of the humans on display, there is still many many cultural issues with their display.
one way to get around that particular thorn, is to put up notices. to incorporate consent into the gallery space. and to make it an optional space. that is to say, in order to get through the whole exhibit from start to finish a guest does not have to go through the gallery with ancestral remains in it. instead they can consent to see a little bit more off to the left in a side gallery if they want to.
that does not deal with the cultural requirements of the human being on display - let alone their personal wishes. one of the cultural requirements for Egyptians is preservation in memory, so some people argue that having a mummy on display in Canada is not bad because people remember that person. this, however, ignores another aspect of Egyptian culture - to die and be burred away from Egypt meant they could not access Egyptian afterlife. therefore that mummy in Canada should be returned post-haste to Egypt.
this actually happened with Ramses the second. he was 'found' in Canada, and repatriated to Egypt. in Egypt he is still in a museum but he is among his grave goods, and among his people - and you have to consent to go into his final resting place.
this is getting away from me...
lets address 'museums are about preserving artifacts'.
yes and no.
the ICOM definition of museum is down to two proposals as of this year
Proposal A
A museum is a permanent, not-for-profit institution, accessible to the public and of service to society. It researches, collects, conserves, interprets and exhibits tangible and intangible cultural and natural heritage in a professional, ethical and sustainable manner for education, reflection and enjoyment. It operates and communicates in inclusive, diverse and participatory ways with communities and the public.
Proposal B
A museum is a not-for-profit, permanent institution in the service of society that researches, collects, conserves, interprets and exhibits tangible and intangible heritage. Open to the public, accessible and inclusive, museums foster diversity and sustainability. They operate and communicate ethically, professionally and with the participation of communities, offering varied experiences for education, enjoyment, reflection and knowledge sharing.
my preference is the first one, but you can see the complex issues we deal with from both of these.
If we were just about the artifacts we would be an antique store.... without prices.
yes museums with collections have a duty of care to those collections - a big part of why it is challenging to repatriate. but that is not our only duty. and there is only ever a fraction of our collection on display - there are too many things to display otherwise. So, even without returning ancestral remains to their living communities, there is no ethical reason to have them on the gallery floor. UNLESS the gallery space is the only climate controlled storage you have... but then you have bigger problems than ancestors on your hands.
please feel free to ask questions always - it is never a bother - and this is a 100 per cent non-judgmental answer. i know tone can be hard through text.
i would appreciate it if some other blogs chimed in with your opinions. i don't have to worry about ancestors in my current or former museums so i am sure i am missing nuance.
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xoxiu · 10 months
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my house of stone, your ivy grows - yoongi x reader
chapter three table of contents masterlist
join the taglist
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summary: yoongi carried himself with a sense of pride within himself and his belongings. he worked hard to get to where he was- ethically or not, it made him the man he is today. his latest toy, a young college girl from america, will become his magnum opus. he just needs to work out the kinks.
tags/warnings: mafia au, kidnapping, daddy dom!yoongi, smut, autistic!reader, spanking, stockholm syndrome, little!jimin, vminhope, drug mention, namjin, fluff, domestic discipline, age gap
Yoongi laid out on Namjoon and Seokjin's couch, eyes glued to his phone as he watched Kiwo's location move as she walked around the city. The man was so focused he could barely hear Namjoon's sigh from across the room.
"Hyung, it's been two weeks now," Namjoon stated, tired of Yoongi's newest obsession. "Two weeks and you've only talked to her once."
While Namjoon was right, he had only spoken to her one time, he had followed her around her college campus numerous times. He knew her classes, what route she takes to them, and where she and her friends hang out. He needed to see her at least once a day to feel complete. 
"Why don't you just take her? Like just swoop her off the street. You know where she is." Seokjin chimed in. Yoongi thought about that. He could just force her to be his. 
"I don't want to make her hate me." Yoongi blandly said, his focus still on Kiwo's whereabouts. She was rather far away from the Yonsei campus for it being nearly nighttime. She was walking back from a museum and was about a half-hour bus ride away from her dormitory. 
"We'll just have one of the grunts do it," Seokjin suggested, "like, I don't know, Kang?"
"I thought we liked Kang?" Namjoon asked his boyfriend, looking over at him with confusion.
"That's exactly why we trust him with this," Seokjin smiled over at Yoongi, "only that best for my little Yoongs."
Yoongi glared over at Seokjin at being called the cutesy nickname. The elder did have a point. Yoongi wanted her and wanted her now. Kang could easily nab her off the street and bring her to him. But then what would they do? He knew she wouldn't come easily, so Yoongi would have to majorly control her and get her to settle into her new life. 
Yoongi sighed before shutting his phone off. "She'll be at Yeonhui Junction in 20 minutes. Have him meet her there."
Yoongi sat in silence in his bedroom. The room was dark, with the only light emitting from the lamp next to his bed. He waited for Kiwo to be brought in, and the chaos that should be. Her screaming would break the silence, and Yoongi had to think of a plan to keep her docile. Perhaps he could keep her tied up for the night, or threaten her into silence. 
While lost in his thoughts, the bedroom door busted open to reveal Kang carrying a tied-up Kiwo. There was a blindfold over her eyes, and what seemed to be Kang's tie wrapped around her face, covering her mouth and preventing her from screaming too loud. Her arms were neatly tied up in front of her, and her ankles were zip-tied together. Yoongi was surprised at just how quiet she was, and Kang picked up on his confusion. 
"I had to drug her when I got her in the car. She's super sneaky and agile and kept getting up from off the car floor and tried to open the car door multiple times," Kang said, walking over to Yoongi's bed to place the passed-out girl down. "She should wake up in the early hours of tomorrow."
Yoongi dismissed the grunt with a nod and wave of the hand. Soon enough, it was just him and Kiwo. He softly sat down on the bed next to the passed-out girl. She wore a large sweatshirt and leggings and had her hair up in a high ponytail. At some point, she must have lost her shoes, as her pink and blue socks were fully visible. 
Not knowing what exactly to do, Yoongi readjusted her in the bed so she was laying properly. He gently removed her hair tie, allowing her hair to flow out. Very carefully, he laid her head down on the pillow and just stared. He truly couldn't believe this was real.
She was his. 
Yoongi removed the tie from her mouth, allowing him to see her pretty pink lips. He played with her hair and lightly traced his fingers along her face. She was real. Her chest moved slightly up and down with each deep breath, and her mouth was slightly open and pouted like a baby's, allowing soft breaths to escape. 
God, Yoongi was whipped. 
Fingers moved down to her wrist, tracing over the tight red paracord that bound her hands together. It dug into her skin, leaving bright red imprints on her pale skin. Grabbing the pocket knife he kept in his jeans, Yoongi carefully cut through the cord and removed it from her wrists. The blindfold and ankle ties remained, and Yoongi was unsure whether or not to get rid of them. He knew she would be dangerous and try to escape as soon as she woke up, and these precautions would be better than none. But at the same time, Yoongi wanted her to be comfortable and remain asleep even after the drug's effect ended. 
Ultimately, Yoongi decided to cut the zip tie from around her ankles and remove the blindfold. Kiwo squirmed in her sleep, turning her body ever so slightly to lay on her side. Yoongi paused in fear of her waking up. When he deemed it safe, he carefully removed himself from the bed and headed towards the bedroom door. 
He noticed Kiwo’s backpack had been placed right next to the door. Picking it up, Yoongi rummaged through its contents to see what exactly was in it. It held some textbooks and notebooks, a cute pen set, some money, her laptop, and her phone. A rather normal school bag. Deciding what was best to do with it, he brought it down the hall to his office. 
The laptop and phone were promptly reset and turned off, just out of safety reasons. He then placed it on the very top shelf of the tall bookcase. Kiwo was rather short, even shorter than Yoongi, so she would never be able to reach that high. 
Yoongi returned to the bedroom to find Kiwo cuddled up in the comforter and her thumb in her mouth. The older man nearly died of a heart attack at the sight- it was simply too cute, exactly what he was looking for in a young girl. A childlike persona, a Little some may say. Jungkook often teased him in his rather juvenile preferences, but Yoongi knew the youngest would pounce at the soonest opportunity to experience a girl like Kiwo. Young, naive, innocent. She was perfect for Yoongi.
Yoongi went to the opposite side of the bed next to Kiwo. Sneakily, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. He expected her to wake up at the sudden invasion of privacy, but she cuddled in nicely into Yoongi. 
Oh god, Yoongi thought, this girl will be perfect. 
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The mysterious blue-eyed man (Tommy Shelby x Reader)
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Summary: The famous, the beautiful Library of Alexandria. You're there, surrounded by ancient knowledge and smart people. One of them is that man. You don't know his name, but his eyes? You could never forget those eyes...
A/N: This idea started to form in my mind thanks to @shelbydelrey when she answered an ask game and mentioned the Library of Alexandria. So, thanks, Isa.
Words: 750.
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Imagine having the chance to go back in time, just for one day, wherever you want. No limitations, except you only have 24 hours.
You wake up in Alexandria, more than two thousand years ago. Center of Occidental knowledge, Alexandria rises over other cities in the known world.
You can't say a word, that's the rule. Nobody there knows about the horrible fate. And seeing the library with your own eyes, makes you feel sad. That beautiful building, those papyrus lost forever, the people... only the myth of the library survived the fire.
Then you see him. A man with beautiful eyes and black hair, writing in one table. A little candle illuminates his face.
"You're not from here," he said. It suprises you that he speaks English. "You did a long journey just to be here. Curious."
His eyes are always on the paper as he writes. You don't dare to speak, you don't know what to say either.
"Do you like this place? It's beautiful, isn't it?" he continues and you nod. "You should enjoy your trip as you much as you can... Soon you will return to your place, don't you? Let me show you."
Your imagination did not justice to the library when you thought about it. The architecture, people's voices whispering, young people studying, older men reading and writing. The smell of candles, papers, wood... Everything is magnificent.
The man shows you something: a collection of papers signed by Aristotle. Your heart stops for a moment. You are seeing with your own eyes something written by one of the most influential men in human history. You're seeing that not on Wikipedia or a book from the 21th century, but written by Aristotle himself. His calligraphy. Those papers, in your era, could be invaluable.
"This must remain here," he says, as if he's reading your mind.
He shows you other pieces of art like sculptures you didn't see before because they didn't survive to modern times. He introduces you to people, most of them are men, but it suprises you to see women too. That's why nobody, except this man, pay you any attention, because you're one of them. Another citizen enjoying the library.
24 hours are not enough. He shows you not just the library but the city as well. Egypt is so different... And yet, the same. The people walking the streets and selling their products, kids playing, animals with their owners enjoying the day, some couples clearly in love walking hand in hand. How little the humankind had changed.
The sun goes down. At night, this man who refuses to say his name, invites you to his home. You can smell some typical food brewing. More candles iluminate his little house. You wonder if he has a wife or kids.
"You must be tired," he says. You are but sleeping is the last thing you want to do. He offers you his bed... or what is supposed to be a bed. Even if you don't want to sleep, your body are grateful to lay a bit. You see him sit again on a chair and he starts to write again. He smiles at you briefly.
You opened your eyes. Fuck. You fell asleep even when you didn't want to. There you are, in your hotel bedroom. It's 2023 again. Your cellphone is next to you, the AC is on, the mini fridge is next to your bed. Was everything a dream?. No. You know it wasn't a dream. You went to the ancient Alexandria, you knew the famous library... God. Those people you met the day before were dead, all of them, including the mysterious blue-eyed man. How many of them died in the fire? You prefer not to think about it.
Hours later, you're in the museum. Taking photos of the sculptures and ancient collections. It's not the same, not after what you lived.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice said, next to you, near a particular big statue.
When you turn your head, you see him. It's the same man. Or maybe someone really similar. But, it's him. Of course, it's him. Those eyes...
"Tommy," he says shaking you hand and he smiles. You say your name as well.
"Nice to meet you. Do I know you?" he asks before winking at you.
Both of you smile at the same time.
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Tommy taglist
@running-outof-time @theimperiumchronicles @dandelionprints @notyour-valentine @creativepawsworld @look-at-the-soul @lespendy @lyarr24 @shaddixlife @moral-terpitude @cillmequick @dark-academia-slut @midnightmagpiemama @onlydeadcells @babaohhhriley @zablife @trixie23 @areyenotfondofmelobster @shelbydelrey @cljordan-imperium @nisaoneil810 @theshelbyslimited @there-goes-thefighter
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