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tomurasprincess · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 09: Somnophilia (A Witches’ Brew)

Day 09: Somnophilia Title: A Witches’ Brew Pairing: Witch Shindou x F!Reader Word Count: 2k Warnings: noncon, somnophilia, mind control, manipulation, drugging via potion, quirk use, Stockholm-ish, yandere Note: I stayed up late to finish this and now I am very tired. Hope you guys like 😂

Kinktober Masterlist

The first thing you hear when you open the door to the shop is the ding of the bell hanging above the entrance. You glance around and see an absolutely enormous amount of magic supplies, some you know the purpose of and some you don’t. Along one wall are floor to ceiling bookshelves, and there’s also a wall of magic potions and artifacts.

As you’re looking around, you hear the voice of what you assume to be the owner call out to you. He’s tall, with a muscular build and dark black hair and a smile that could light up a room.

“Hello, welcome to my shop! Can I help you find anything?”

“Hi, yes, I - “ You can’t bring yourself to finish that sentence, too embarrassed by what you’re after to even be able to say it.

“It’s okay,” the man smiles at you, and it's so warm that you can’t help but return it. “There’s no judgment here, I promise.”

“Well in that case,” you say hesitantly, “I’m here for a love potion.”

“Oh, I can definitely help you with that.” He motions for you to follow him to the back of the store. “My name is Shindou, by the way”

“Nice to meet you, Shindou.” You tell him your name before explaining why you’re here. “The love potion - it’s not how you’re thinking,” you say quickly. “I don’t want to force someone. Just make it a bit easier, maybe?”

He laughs gently as he glances back at you. “I told you, no judgement from me.”

Finally you reach a door that he unlocks and opens for you to walk through. In this room is a large cauldron and a worktable full of various magic components. “Feel free to sit down, and we can talk about what you’re looking for.”

You choose a chair a respectful distance away from the worktable, but one where you can still see everything going on. Magic has always fascinated you, and you don’t want to miss the chance to watch it in action.

“Well, I’ve been having such bad luck lately. All of the guys I’ve tried to go out with have canceled, or dropped out of my life entirely. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Your voice takes on a slight tremble at the last sentence, the constant rejection finally getting to you.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” Shindou scoffs. “If someone doesn’t want you, then they’re idiots.”

“You really think so?” You give him a shy smile.

“Of course I think so.” He turns away from you as he picks out various vials and strange looking ingredients, laying them out in front of him. “You said you only wanted something to help you out a bit?”

“Yes, exactly! I don’t want to alter anyone’s mind or anything.”

His smile has a hint of a smirk, eyes darkening just enough that you can notice. But it vanishes in the next second, leaving you to wonder if you only imagined it. “You’re so good hearted.”

He takes a mortar and pestle, grinding something into a fine paste that he puts in a bowl. He also grabs a red liquid and a green liquid, measuring them out before adding them to the potion he’s creating.

“I’ll need a hair of yours,” he reaches out to you before pulling his hand back. “Assuming you don’t mind, of course.”

“No, go ahead, I don’t mind.”

His finger traces a line down your jaw, causing you to shiver a bit at his touch. He smiles at your reaction before grabbing a piece of hair around your face and pulling it out. It’s just a few small strands of hair, and you watch as he puts them into the bowl and stirs them up.

“Why do you need my hair?” You can’t help but ask. “I don’t mean any offense, just curious.”

“Oh, since you’re wanting a more general love spell, I’m adding yours so that you’re the focus of the spell.”

You give a quick nod at his explanation. You know nothing about magic, and his reasoning makes sense. The reason you went to Shindou above a handful of other witches was because he came highly recommended by everyone you talked to.

The smell of the potion quickly fills the room, almost overpoweringly strong. It doesn’t smell bad, but it quickly gives you a bit of a headache, causing you to stand up and walk just a short distance away in an attempt to find a bit of fresh air. You see his hands move quickly through finishing the potion, mixing it up thoroughly before handing a small vial to you.

“Thank you so much,” you whisper as you clutch the potion to your chest. “How much do I owe you?”

“We can discuss payment in a second,” he stares at you with a look of deep intensity. “Why don’t you drink the potion first?”

“Why, is there something that could go wrong?”

“Nothing bad, I assure you. But potions can have different effects for different people to begin with, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He steps a few paces closer, rubbing down your arm with one hand. “Please humor me?”

You laugh as you uncork the potion bottle. “How can I say no to that?” You throw back the vial, throat working as you drink the whole thing in one rush. It tastes much better than you would have thought, but once you finish the bottle, you feel yourself sway on your own feet as dizziness overtakes you.

The bottle slips through your fingers before shattering on the hard floor below, and your knees buckle. Shindou wraps an arm around you before lifting you gently, gazing down at you with a look you can’t place.

But you think it looks like victory.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Shindou chuckles to himself as he carries you to his bedroom using a secret doorway that only he can see.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for you to come into my shop, sweetheart?” Shindou muses at your unconscious form. He lays you gently on his bed, trailing his hands down your body as he begins to undress you. “I was getting so impatient watching you look at everyone but me.”

He unbuttons your shirt and bra before throwing them over his shoulder, and then slips down your pants to reveal your lacy pink panties. “They would have only hurt you. I did you a favor, sweetheart.” He trails a finger up your clothed slit, causing your body to jerk a bit. “They won’t treat you well as I will.”

He activates his quirk slightly, fingers vibrating against the sensitive skin of your clit through your panties and drawing a deep moan from your throat. “See how responsive you are? Your body already knows you belong to me.”

He wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a deep kiss. He massages your tongue with his own, easily dominating your mouth with no resistance. His hand cups your breast, tracing feather light touches along your nipple and causing it to harden.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he moves down to your neck, sucking hard at your pulse point and leaving a trail of bruises wherever he kisses. “And I know you can hear all of this.”

As a response, your body trembles a bit in his grasp, and his chuckle is dark and amused. “The potion is doing its job. You're going to be able to feel everything I do to you.”

“This needy little body of yours is going to crave me.” He moves your panties to the side as his finger dips below, grinning as he feels how wet you are for him already. “Or maybe it already does.”

Two fingers slip into your heat as he kneels down, placing small kitten licks along your entrance. You let out a soft whine as you buck your hips up towards his mouth. “Since you can hear all of this, I’m going to explain what this potion will do to you.”

He curls his fingers up as he searches around on your inner walls, smirking when he finds a spot that causes you to clench around him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I could help you with a love potion,” he says conversationally, as if he wasn’t indulging freely in your body. “I just added a lock of my own hair when you weren’t looking.”

He lashes his tongue along your slit, licking up the wetness that has begun to leak out of you and nudging your clit with his nose. “The potion will make sure that you fall madly, obsessively in love with me, and only me. As it should be.”

And at that, he begins to slam his fingers against the spot he found, causing you to moan and clamp down around his fingers. Your hips buck back with his thrusts, and he knows you’re close already. You’re overly sensitive from the spell he laced into the potion, and when he sucks your clit into his mouth, you cum hard on his tongue, liquid gushing out of you that he laps up eagerly.

He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching to get away, body overstimulated and throbbing. Finally, he pulls away as he unzips his pants, removing them quickly and guiding his thick length towards your still fluttering pussy.

He snaps his hips in one quick movement, burying himself in your pussy instantly. “Fuck, you’re so damned tight,” he grunts as he begins to move. “You’re squeezing my cock so much that it's hard to move.”

His eyes light up for a brief second as he withdraws from you completely, glancing down at his cock and confirming what he’s thinking. There’s a slight amount of blood on the tip of his cock, and the sight makes him throb as he realizes he was the one to take your virginity.

He enters you again, but this time he makes short shallow thrusts as he tries to loosen your walls up a bit. The entire time, he strokes your clit with two fingers, activating his quirk and causing your head to fall back in pleasure as the vibrations run through you.

Finally he can move a bit easier, and his thrusts become savage, hard enough that your breasts bounce with every movement. You let out a broken moan as you near another orgasm, tears running down your eyes nd drool running out the side of your mouth. He grunts when your walls begin to flutter around his cock, balls tightening up towards his body as he reaches his own orgasm.

Your tight pussy milks his cock for every drop of cum in his aching balls, and he makes sure that he doesn’t pull out until he’s completely empty. He looks down at your fucked out form, cum oozing out of your pussy, neck covered in bruises and hickies. He doesn’t think you’ve ever looked so beautiful.

He gets up to retrieve a warm washcloth, using it to clean your body before he puts you in a pair of pajamas that he bought for you. After he’s done taking care of you, he goes to the bathroom and cleans himself up before climbing back into bed with you, pulling you tightly into his chest.

He holds you there, murmuring sweet nothings until you finally wake up, eyes fluttering open to see his face smiling down at you.

“Hey sweetheart,” Shindou murmurs as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Your face twists briefly into a mask of confusion, glancing around the room and at Shindou as if you’re trying to figure something out. “You - you gave me a potion, right? Brought me here and - “

You blush as you refuse to meet Shindou’s eyes, and you feel the deep rumble of his laughter against you. “Yes, I did. Is there a problem with that, sweetheart?” He pushes just a bit, wanting to make sure that the potion is in full effect. “I only did it because I love you so much.”

The look of concern and alarm falls from your face instantly as you smile back, rolling over to burrow your face into his chest. “Of course not. I love you too, Shindou.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @katsukisprincess, @hisoknen, @trafalgar-temptress, @leeswritingworld, @burnedbyshoto, @bakugotrashpanda, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @babayaga67, @fromsunnywithlove, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji, @the-grimm-writer, @iwaizumi-chan, @slashersheart, @cissiewrites, @bunnyywritings, @bakarinnie, @angie-1306, @emplosion22, @lalalemon101, @videogameboiwhowins, @armoredashley, @f4nficbaby, @tenkoshimmy, @baroque-baby, @bbyspiiice, @thirstyforthem2dmen

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helloalycia · 3 years

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The Wrong Lifetime – Five // Wanda Maximoff

chapter four | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter six

author’s note: dying of cramps but didn’t wanna leave y’all hanging, so enjoy! x

Taking Wanda to Blackpool was something I couldn't stop thinking about for the past three days.

I kept telling myself that I had to remain calm, not make her feel uncomfortable with my obvious attraction to her, and to give her the best day out considering she'd never been before. It wasn't anything more than a girl spending time with her soon-to-be sister-in-law, and I had to keep reminding myself that whenever I'd feel a stir of desire in my chest at the thought her pretty smile or intoxicating gaze.

My family were thrilled when they heard of my plans with Wanda. My parents were glad I was actually making an effort to get on with her, whilst my brother was excited I was becoming 'best friends', as he put it, with his fiancé. That one stung a little, the guilt pricking my insides, but I convinced myself that that was exactly what I was doing. It wasn't wrong if I didn't think of Wanda in any way but what she was. Right?

The weekend came around quickly enough, and on Saturday morning, I met with Wanda at the train station where she waiting for me with an enthusiastic smile.

"I brought my watercolours and sketchbook so I can paint what's there," she explained as we boarded the train. "I also bought a lot of pencils in case some snap. I'm gonna draw everything I see so I don't forget a single thing."

We slid into our seats and I smiled with admiration as she continued to ramble about all of the things she wanted to do today. She looked so lively when she spoke, her hands moving about frantically to express her excitement, and her lips permanently etched into a smile when she wittered on. I didn't mean to stare, but God, she looked beautiful.

"Thank you again for doing this," she finished, head turning to mine.

Now, I'd read and written many clichés of someone falling for someone else, particularly the moment they knew they were too far gone. It was hard to believe if they were true depictions of liking someone, but I liked reading and writing them.

It was now that I learnt that they were no exaggeration, for when she looked my way with a beaming smile and glowing green eyes, I knew it was too late. There was no going back for my attraction to Wanda.

"No need to thank me," I spoke slowly, surprised I could speak at all since she'd knocked the breath from my lungs. "I'm glad you're excited."

The journey was a few hours long and we made conversation the whole way. It was the longest I'd spent alone with her since meeting her and I was intrigued by everything she had to say, hanging onto every word with all of my attention. If that wasn't enough, her accent only made everything she said sound so much better. She was naturally soft-spoken, but syllables rolled off her tongue in a silky, raspy way with her accent entwined in her words. I loved it.

At one point, the topic of our families came up and I felt like my brother came up in almost every conversation I'd had with anyone who discussed family, so I took this as my opportunity to get to know hers instead.

"What's it like to have a twin?" I asked, leaning on my elbow as I watched her attentively.

She mirrored my action playfully, though answered my question. "It's just like having a normal sibling, except they're way more annoying."

I smiled, imaging just how annoying Pietro could be as a sibling.

"I love Pietro, but he's very frustrating at times," she spoke with a hint of endearment. "He constantly throws it in my face that's he's older than me by twelve minutes. As if that makes a difference."

A chuckle flew from my lips as she pouted at her own words.

"But he's also my best friend," she said with a sigh, like that fact was irritating in itself. "He knows me better than anyone and he's the easiest person for me to talk to. I don't have to hide anything from him." She paused, glancing upwards in thought. "Well, almost anything."

Pursing my lips, I wondered what she meant as she mumbled the last part, but didn't question it. Everyone was entitled to their secrets.

"So, you and your family moved to England when you were kids, right?" I tried to recall what my parents had told me of them. "From Sokovia."

"Yes, we were about..." She scrunched up her nose as she tried to remember. "Eight years old, I think?"

"Wow, that's young," I realised.

She hummed in agreement, smile fading as her eyes fell to her hands. "Yeah... I don't remember much, but there was a lot of unrest at the time. A war. It was dangerous for everyone and my parents were lucky to get us out when they did."

I frowned, knowing some of this already, but it was sadder to hear when it was coming from Wanda herself.

"Our extended family didn't make it out," she continued to explain, voice quieter. "I didn't know them much, my parents' siblings, so it's not that sad for me. Pietro, too. But it's strange to think, you know? Especially when all of your family are around with this wedding and–" She sighed, shaking her head and looking to me with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

I straightened up, reassuring her instantly. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. It's okay. I... I didn't know any of that. I'm glad you told me."

She nodded, though the regret was still present in her gaze.

"I'm sorry all of that happened," I expressed honestly, not looking away. "But I'm glad you're here, if it makes a difference. You– your family are good people."

A small, appreciative smile graced her lips. "Thank you."

I shrugged, trying to brush it off so she wouldn't notice the heat rising up my neck. "It's nothing... so Sokovia. You speak Russian and English. That's pretty bloody cool."

She laughed wholeheartedly and any hint of sadness disappeared from her face, reassuring me completely. I didn't like to see her sad, especially when there was nothing I could do to make her feel better that I knew of.

"I promise to teach you some Russian today," she said with amusement. "A few words, just to diversify your vocabulary."

"Gee, thanks."

Another laugh escaped her and I chewed on my lip to contain my grin. I could get used to that sound.

—

When we reached Blackpool, Wanda was radiating with excitement. We couldn't make it two steps anywhere before she whipped out her sketchbook and began to sketch. She wasn't kidding when she said she was going to capture everything she saw.

I was patient, since the reason we came was for her, and watched as she worked. It was cute, seeing her concentrate and trying to stop dancing around with excitement every time I showed her something new.

We walked along the promenade and dipped in and out of the shops, looking at the gifts and clothes they sold. We bought a few things to commemorate the trip, but then Wanda was quick to drag me back outside so she could sketch the view of the beach from where we were stood. The grin on her face was convincing enough for me to let her drag me wherever she wanted. She looked so happy and I didn't care about anything else.

Eventually, around lunchtime, we headed to a café to have a break from all the excitement. Or rather, a break from running around. For Wanda, it was a better opportunity to sit still and sketch some more.

"So, you're drinking what, Y/N?" she asked, not looking up from her sketches as she worked.

I looked at my tea and lowered the cup. "Er, tea?"

"In Russian," she instructed.

"Oh." I cleared my throat, remembering what she taught me earlier. "Chay."

"And what's in the chay?" she asked, lifting her eyes to meet mine patiently. "The milk?"

"Moloko," I remembered, and the proud smile on her face reassured me I was correct. My shoulders relaxed as I returned her smile. "Thanks."

"You're a natural," she assured me, before looking back to her sketchbook. "I only taught you the words. You remembered it yourself. And before you know it, ty budesh' govorit' polnymi predlozheniyami na russkom."

My mouth opened with confusion, not knowing what she said. She seemed to realise as she chuckled at my expression.

"Never mind, milaya (darling)," she said with humoured eyes, before resuming her sketching.

I breathed out, taking another sip of my tea before grabbing a fork to dig into my pasta. As I chewed, I watched Wanda move her pencil effortlessly, creating lines that somehow resulted in a perfect drawing of the horizon.

"Do you only draw and paint landscapes?" I asked curiously.

"I can do portraits, too," she answered with a nod, glancing at me. "But they're never as good."

I gave her a knowing look. "I doubt that."

She merely smiled in response, eyes meeting mine for a moment, before shaking her head with amusement and looking back to her sketches. I chuckled, leaving her to it as I enjoyed my lunch and read the newspaper.

It was nice to just sit and enjoy each other's company as we did our own thing. I'd occasionally glance up to see Wanda focused on her drawing and smile, allowing myself to appreciate the sight, before looking back down to the paper and enjoying my pasta.

By the time I finished my food, as had Wanda, she straightened up and tore a page from her sketchbook. The noise pulled me from my reading and I looked up to see her holding the paper towards me.

I quirked a brow, but she simply shook the paper, signalling for me to take it. With confusion, I took it and became speechless when I saw what she'd drawn. It was me reading the paper, the exact view she must have had from being sat opposite me. It looked exactly like me, probably better since I knew I didn't look that good, and I was amazed at her talent all over again.

"You did this just now?" I asked with disbelief, looking up at her.

She shrugged and distracted herself with her pencil. "Yeah, it's not much. It's not my specialty."

I scoffed. "You're kidding. Wanda, this is amazing!"

Bashful smile on her lips, she glanced up at me. "Maybe it's the best portrait I've done. But I think that's down to my subject."

Even when she was embarrassed, she was still capable of turning the tables on me, leaving me a flustered mess. It was like her superpower. A very annoyingly cute superpower.

"That's what you look like y'know," she continued, nodding to the paper in my hand. "When you're focused on reading. You chew your lip with thought. And you get this little crease–" she pointed between her brows with a laugh, "–right here, and you seem to forget that anything else exists."

A sweet smile spread on her face as she tilted her head, watching me with intimidating eyes, very much aware of the effect her words had on me.

"You're very observant," I said, trying not to stutter, her gaze making me nervous. "Perfect skill for an artist."

She hummed in agreement, though didn't look away. "Mere artistic observation, right?"

My heart was hammering in her chest the longer she stared, especially when her words dawned on me. I'd said the exact same thing after she confronted me about picking her ring. I wondered if she could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

Just like the first time I saw her, I was at a loss for words and couldn't look away. She was compelling, beautiful and remarkable all at once.

—

"Nebo," I said, hoping it was the correct word for 'sky' in Russian, as Wanda had taught me.

She grinned. "Yes! And horizon?"

I pulled a face as I thought carefully. "Er...gorizont?"

"The student is soon to become the master," she said, and I rolled my eyes, knowing that was anything but the truth. I appreciated her encouragement though.

"Okay, before we head to the beach, we have to buy some rock," I told her, leading her to the stall on the promenade. "I got it last time and it's so good."

She furrowed her brows. "What's that?"

I smiled at her expression. "It's a sweet. Kind of like boiled sugar that's formed into a stick of, well, rock."

She didn't seem convinced. "If you say it's good, I trust you, I guess..."

I laughed, grabbing her hand and tugging her to the stall. "You'll love it."

After getting two sticks of rock for Wanda and I, we began to walk to the sand. I glanced at the brunette, wanting to see her reaction. She eyed the hard candy before attempting to bite it, a small piece breaking off at the top. Crunching on it, she scrunched her nose up.

"It's hard," she noted, swallowing the piece. "Tasty, though."

"It's better if you suck on it, love," I let her know with a hidden smile. "Tastes much better."

She did as I said, beginning to suck on the top, and seemed to enjoy it more. Giving me a thumbs up as she sucked it, I couldn't help but laugh again. She looked adorable, so I left her to it and did the same as we walked along the sand and towards the benches in the distance.

Like a child experiencing something for the first time, she began to point excitedly at Blackpool Tower and the ferris wheel in the distance and I just kept nodding along, letting her get excited because it made my heart skip a beat every time she flashed me a smile.

When we reached the benches, I was glad that today wasn't a busy day. It wasn't exactly tourist season, so the beach was scarce of anyone but residents of the town. And even then, our side of the beach was pretty empty, giving us first dibs on a bench that wasn't broken or uncomfortable.

Settling on it, Wanda pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged so she could lean on them and pull out her watercolours. I sat beside her and leaned back, inhaling the salty air and exhaling peacefully. I never had much reason to visit here apart from when my parents took my brother and I on the occasional trip, but it was nice to appreciate the sound of the ocean washing over the sand and the seagulls squawking in the sky. A big difference compared to back home.

Another silence formed between us as she painted the water ahead, and I couldn't help but glance her way, watching her pucker her lips with concentration. All she'd wanted was this and I was glad I could finally give it to her.

So she wouldn't notice, I looked away and stared out at the blue expanse of ocean before me. I should have been appreciating its beauty, but all I could think about was how it was no contest to the girl sat beside me.

"I'm really glad you brought me here today," she said out of the blue after a while, "but I wouldn't have said yes if I'd known you would be bored."

I looked to her and saw she was still preoccupied by her painting. "I'm not bored. We came here so you could see the water and find some new subjects to paint. And that's exactly what we're doing."

She sighed, looking up at me with a questioning glance.

Smiling reassuringly, I said, "I like the quiet. And I like watching you work. You look happy. It's good to see."

She tensed her jaw, stifling a smile, but her eyes said it all. She was grateful. Of course, her eyes were also very easy to get lost in, even if she didn't mean for me to. And right now, under the sun, I found myself drowning in pools of blue.

"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly, a hint of a smile on her face.

Stupidly, I felt compelled to tell her the truth. "I'm thinking about how you have really pretty eyes."

Attempting to make me flustered yet again, her favourite hobby by now I was guessing, she raised a brow teasingly. "Oh, really?"

It didn't bother me this time though, as I maintained eye contact and felt my heart swelling with adoration. "Yes. It's like you hold all the elements in a single gaze."

Her smile faded and that's when I realised what I'd said, my heart dropping to my stomach in an instant. Swallowing hard, I looked away and shook my head. An apology was waiting on the tip of my tongue when she spoke with realisation.

"It was you."

I glanced her way nervously. "What was?"

She was staring like her mind was working something out and I was the missing piece. "The letter that Y/B/N gave me last week. He wrote the exact same thing. What you just said."

My brows knitted together with confusion, then it hit me. The love letter Y/B/N wrote. The one he assured me was for his own eyes. He'd given it to her. And I'd just gone and said the exact thing he'd written on it, no doubt passing it off as is his own words.

"Th–that wasn't me," I got out, shaking my head slowly. "I didn't even know he gave you a letter, Wanda."

She continued to watch me, eyes squinting with scepticism. I swallowed hard under her gaze, trying to think of how I could come back from this. But apparently I didn't have to, because she suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.

My mind was foggy when her fingers rested behind my neck, tugging me closer. I closed my eyes, melting at her touch, and began to kiss her back, moving my lips against hers. She was slow and gentle with me, her lips as soft as they looked and sending the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. I could have kissed her forever and been content, but my brain finally caught up to my actions and I reluctantly pulled away, stunned.

Glancing around to make sure nobody saw us – there was literally nobody here – I caught my breath and looked back to Wanda. Her eyes were drawn to my lips before they flickered to meet mine, darkened with desire.

"Why did you do that?" was all I could think to ask, and I was acutely aware of her fingers still grasping my neck, the skin burning where her tips grazed.

She licked her swollen lips, expression softening. "I think I've been falling for the wrong Y/L/N."

My lips pressed together, missing the feeling of hers against them. Never in a million years did I expect her to say something like that. I thought she'd been teasing me this whole time, but now, maybe there was truth to her actions.

"Did you really mean what you said?" she asked apprehensively.

"What?"

She swallowed. "What you said about my eyes. Did you mean it?"

Well, she'd kissed me, so there was no going back now.

I nodded, noticing the hesitance in her eyes. "Yes... you're beautiful, Wanda."

She didn't say anything and the silence was deafening. I almost wanted to run back home and pretend this never happened, but that was the cowardly side of me. The other side, the disbelieving side, wanted to stay here with her and keep living in this little bubble we'd created.

"Can I kiss you again?" she finally spoke, eyes flickering between mine for confirmation.

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded slowly, and she didn't waste another second as she leaned in once again. This time, I wasn't so surprised, so I kissed her back quickly, trying not to think about how wrong this was. How I'd been taught that this was wrong. Because I refused to believe this was wrong, that it was a sin, when it felt so damn right.

Wanda felt right.

—

When I got home later that afternoon, I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

Wanda was all that was on my mind. Everything about her was floating around up there – the contagiousness of her smile, the brightness of her eyes, the taste of her lips. When I left this morning, I wasn't expecting to return with– well, I wasn't sure what we were, but we'd decided to give whatever this was a go.

Of course, she was still engaged to my brother, but I tried not to think about that. She made me happy and maybe in a different lifetime we could have been together, but this was the wrong lifetime which meant I'd have to make some wrong decisions, this possibly being one of them.

The guilt was still present, but the adoration I had for Wanda overpowered it. The fact that she actually liked me back was too thrilling for me to even concern myself with the lack of future this relationship would have. I just wanted to enjoy what we had whilst we had it, even if it meant being together in secret.

"So, how did your trip go?" my mum asked me when I returned, looking up from her knitting.

I stifled my grin the best I could. "It was fun. Wanda loved the seaside."

My mother seemed pleased as she smiled my way. "Y/N, that's great. You know, I'm really proud of you for making an effort with her. It means a lot to everyone."

"Mhm."

"She's going to be your sister-in-law after all," she continued knowingly, "so it's good you're spending time with her. Maybe you could do it more."

I hummed in agreement, my heart fluttering at the possibility of spending more time with Wanda. "Yeah, that could be good."

"Go on upstairs, you must be tired from the travelling," she said after a moment, noticing my distant headspace. "I'm glad you had fun today."

Wanda's smile appeared in my mind again, her lips ghosting my own. I sighed contently.

"Me, too."

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel imagine

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

eleven months. (m) myg. two.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: brief non-descriptive mention of death, otherwise none word count: 7k author’s note: here’s some more backstory on both of them as well as more interaction beyond yoongi hunting down an album by the cure lmao. like i said before, i’m really soft for yoongi in this story so lmk what you think! (also..because i hate myself and love piling up wips, theres mention of oc having a previous love interest that’s actually part of another story that takes place in this universe that’s a prequel soooo...coming soon lol) taglist (open): @min-yus summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

In the next coming weeks it becomes obvious that Yoongi is in fact a regular. His routine visits allow you to remember the usual days and times he’d pop in, so you knew if you’d be working on his chosen days.

Somewhere in between his casual drop ins, the two of you had formed somewhat of a friendship— or the beginning stages of one at least. Yoongi liked your sense of humor, how open and friendly you were to anyone you encountered, always having something to say about anything. Conversation came easy to you, never running out of stories. It left Yoongi thinking you’ve definitely lived about ten lifetimes compared to him.

In turn, you liked how he let you steer the conversation any way you chose. Most people would probably watch on in horror at the way you’d go from talking about a specific song or band, and then switching to a story about how you chased a pickpocketer during your travels before moving on to talking about your roommate’s cat. None of it gave him whiplash though, seamlessly flowing into the next topic with a grin on his face, never feeling like he had to think too hard to keep it going. It worked best this way. Yoongi was observant by nature, a great listener above it all, so if you were the one doing most of the talking it was fine by him.

Everyone at Rkive360 had taken notice that Yoongi’s usual five minute visits had turned into ten, and then twenty, until it became very clear he was lingering inside the store. No one told him anything, besides the fact that he was bestfriends with the owner and had immunity, all of you were fond of him. Taehyung enjoyed the sly remarks Yoongi would make, Sana just enjoyed ogling at him, Namjoon would never mind seeing him, and you would take any chance you could to attempt to wow him with your small knowledge of music.

It was a nice distraction whenever he stopped by, always heading straight to the back where the vinyl was kept. Sometimes he had a specific album in mind, other times he was simply browsing, but he only ever bought one at a time. It was routine, maybe even a weird ritual of sorts if he really thought about it.

On the days you knew he’d be coming you would spend a little extra time in the beginning of your shift picking out a few records to suggest to him if he didn’t have one in mind. Because of this, he had stopped his usual path to the bins and now came directly to you, the first stray off his usual routine.

Today you’re standing behind the counter, ringing up a customer when he walks in, a smile on your face as you chat away. He patiently waits at the far corner, leaning back against it as his eyes roamed the interior of the store, taking note of the way Sana and Taehyung were trying and failing to build a giant display. It looks like a mess of parts, scattered around with no instruction manual in sight— definitely Taehyung’s idea to toss it judging by Sana’s look of frustration.

He tears his gaze away from them beginning to argue when he hears you wish the customer a good day as they leave, pushing away from the counter and shuffling your way with a grin on his face. You smile back at the way his doughy cheeks push out, high points of them reflecting the light from above.

“Any shirt facts of the day?”

That had also become another common occurrence. Whenever you decided to wear a band shirt, he somehow always had random facts about whoever it was. It didn’t matter if it was some obscure french band or a 90’s rapper, Yoongi knew something about everyone, like some walking encyclopedia of musical artists. So when you take a step away and spread your arms out, he sees your shirt of choice today is The Doors, and he scoffs. Too easy.

“The Doors were the first band to ever advertise a new album on a billboard.” He nods his head slowly, almost as if he’s telling you yes I know, amazing right?

A hum leaves your lips at his fun fact, slightly impressed by it. “Interesting. Like always, I did not know that.” You peek under the counter top at the selection of records you kept stowed away for him, safe from any undeserving customers. “Now, do you want to see my daily, hand picked selection just for you.”

This was his new favorite pastime, getting to see the random albums you’d group together for him, wanting to know what you thought was worthy for him to listen to. When he nods, rubbing his hands together in excitement, you haul up the stack and carefully spread them out across the top.

The genre of the day was R&B, he can tell that much as he sorts through the albums. You’re familiar with the way he clumps together certain records, marking them down as albums he already owns, until he gets to an orange colored cover. The words The Internet fill the top right corner along with Ego Death on the bottom left. This he had never heard before. He picks it up and flips it over, scanning the song names with interest.

His eyes raise up to yours with curiosity, the same sharp gaze that somehow still makes you nervous holds the obvious question being passed between you with no need for words: are they any good? And the way you nod your head immediately convinces him enough. “Alright, I’ll give them a shot.”

A small sense of pride fills your chest, a tiny victory whenever he decides to pick something from your stack, trusting whatever music knowledge you had somehow convinced him you have. “I promise you’ll love them.”

When you hand him his change and the brown paper bag, you immediately check the time and clock out, dipping back under the counter and grabbing your bag from its hidden spot.

“Are you off?” Yoongi finds himself asking, no longer used to leaving immediately after he purchased something. The usual fifteen minute conversation you two had was missing today, and he’s not too sure how he feels about that.

“Yes I am, you were my last customer. The store will now be run by those two heathens. Here’s to hoping they don’t bite each others heads off while they finish building whatever the fuck that is.” Taehyung is now standing up, lazily holding up a part of the display as Sana tries to screw something together, angrily giving Taehyung commands but he only mimics her with a ridiculous face. And when she socks his thigh, her fist aiming a little too close to home, you let out a laugh.

Yoongi highly doubts that’s going to be possible, Namjoon would probably have to be the one left to finish building the display while also putting them on opposite sides of the store whenever he came in for the day. It was truly a shock that they had gone this long working together without an actual fist fight breaking out. If it came down to it, Yoongi had his money on Sana being able to whoop Tae’s ass.

“Do you know any good take out spots nearby? I’m starving and I’m still new to the area so I’ll take any recommendations.” Your voice snaps him back, his eyes looking at you briefly as the question registers within him.

“Oh, yeah. There’s a place not too far from here that has pretty good jajangmyeon.”

“Hell yeah.” Your hands pat your belly softly, coming up to readjust your bag as you walk around the counter and head for the door, shouting out a goodbye to Taehyung and Sana as you leave the store. When you exit the shop, your hand holding the door open behind you, you glance back inside in confusion when you spot Yoongi still standing by the counter with wide eyes. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

Truth be told, he had been wanting to talk to you outside of work for a while but he was scared to ask, not wanting to make you feel obligated to say yes just because he was a regular at your place of employment. Something about you seemed familiar to him, and to be quite honest he just craved social intimacy. His job consumed him and coming into this record shop was the small escape he needed, you being there was just a newly added plus.

You’re on the same page he is, wanting to hang out with him just as much as he had, something about the way he seemed like a half open book interested you. Throughout all of your adventures you had forced yourself to come out of your shell, no longer afraid or bashful when it came to initiating friendships. If you wanted to get to know someone better, then you’d bite first. And you definitely wanted to get to know Yoongi better.

It takes him a moment to react, his gaze switching from you to look back over at your coworkers, seeing Sana sending you a curious glance. Yoongi was about to attempt to muster up the courage to ask you to hang out and you beat him to the punch, but after a second he grins at you with a nod. Of course he was coming.

The weather in Seoul is forgiving today, the usual cold of autumn being prevalent in the air without the need to bundle up, the slight wind not stinging your skin as it blows around you. This was probably your favorite season, comfortable enough for you to do whatever you want without feeling restricted by heavy layers or sticky from the heat.

A soft smile is on your lips, hands shoved into the pockets of your baggy cardigan, and a small pep in your step as your eyes take in the world around you. That feeling you get when you visit a new town on vacation, how you’re just passing through for a brief moment in a place so many call home, it makes you realize how small you actually are.

It’s a feeling you always longed for, to experience a new place and make it home, it's the main reason you always bounced around so much. Staring at all the shops around you, taking in all the people just going about their daily life, you’re content with your new choice of scenery.

Too lost in your own head as you take in the shops and people around you, you snap out of it when Yoongi reaches out and clasps a hand on your shoulder, steering you to turn right when you keep walking straight. “Get your head out of the clouds.”

He hears the snort you let out, allowing him to guide you the correct way. Slowly trailing away from the main road, the amount of people lessens, only a handful of stores line up around the alley you had turned into. When you spare a glance at Yoongi you can see the excitement on his face, speeding up his pace until he’s standing in front of the restaurant. It’s a small hole in the wall shop that didn’t even look like it served food from the outside, all black exterior with a red sign hung up on top showcasing their name, Ipum.

It’s charming, and the way Yoongi spreads his arm out puts a similar smile on your face. Only then does he pull open the door, allowing you to step in first before he follows.

Once Yoongi steps inside he’s immediately greeted by the workers calling out his name in glee, bowing in response with a bashful smile as he approaches the small counter set up for take out orders, not needing to read the menu. You don’t realize he’s waiting for you as you take in the interior of the restaurant, the red dining tables surprisingly packed despite their lack of advertising outside. This place really must be as good as Yoongi promised.

“Anything specific you want?” he asks, finger pointing to the small menu in his hand in case you needed it. When you shake your head, letting him know he can order anything he wants, he does exactly that, placing two orders of jajangmyeon, along with fried dumplings and sweet and sour pork to complete it. It was his go to choices whenever he came, so he hopes you’ll enjoy it as much as he does.

As you step to the side, backs pressed against the wall closest to the counter in order to keep the space open for the workers and patrons to walk comfortably in the small shop, you turn your head to glance at Yoongi again. “You come here often?”

The way the workers had spoken to him had made that glaringly obvious, but you wanted to hear it from him, wanted to know if he came here for comfort food or some other weird tradition like his ‘one-vinyl-a-day’ way of life.

It was sort of a habit he had fallen into years ago. Having grown up in this city his whole life, he had stumbled upon this place his last year of high school. It had become a staple soon after, a place he would come to directly after classes were done to come stuff his face before heading home. Then it became a place his girlfriend and him frequented when the apartment they moved into turned out to be a mere block away.

In a way, the owners of this shop had become like a second family. The amount of times they’ve seen Yoongi at his best and worst throughout the years, never once throwing judgment his way even if he came in beyond plastered back in the years he used to drink, never turning him away even if he cried into his noodles.

He decides that’s a little too much to unpack right now, so he just nods in confirmation. “Yeah, I’ve been coming here for years. One taste of their noodles and you’ll be hooked too, trust me.”

Oh you trusted him, the amount of plates you’ve seen so far just made your mouth water once they passed by you and the smell of the food reached your nose. “We should’ve just sat down, I’m not gonna be able to wait until I get home to eat this.”

As you say this one of the workers approaches you two with a tied up plastic bag in his hand, the inside stuffed with takeout boxes and utensils for you to take. Yoongi grasps the bag with a smile and thanks him as he walks away. “Don’t worry, I live like a block away.”

He realizes how his words could be taken immediately, how he had assumed you two would innocently go back to his place to share a meal. You had invited him to eat but the location of where you would be doing so had not been discussed and the last thing he wanted was to come across as a sleaze.

His mouth was ready to back track completely, until he sees the way you dramatically place your hand over your chest, and he knows it's too late, “Oh damn, your place? Saucy, but I’m starving so I’ll do almost anything.”

You can see the way he relaxes when he notices you aren’t being serious, taking his words lightly the way he intended them. His eyes roll behind his lids, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he shoves your shoulder lightly to get you to start walking.

“Is jajangmyeon all it takes?”

“Slow your roll, good jajangmyeon is all it takes. I’ve yet to have a taste.”

Yoongi smiles at your words, taking the lead when you step out of the shop and turn back down towards the main street. His apartment was on the next block over, a short walk that you didn’t mind, especially since he took it upon himself to point at random stores you passed to let you know the best places to get what.

He has a lot of love for this city, the memories it possesses spread out through his entire childhood and early adult years, lingering in each crack on the sidewalk. He often sits and wonders how different his life would be if his parents had decided to move to Busan instead of Seoul, or stayed in Daegu altogether. The thought of the timeline of his life being altered so drastically to the point of possibly not being able to be living this moment sends his mind into a flurry, so he's grateful you’ve reached his front door now as his mind settles.

“Oh my god who’s this?” You coo as you step into his apartment, crouching down towards the white stone floors to pet the fluffy gray cat that greeted you, enjoying the way it purred and rubbed against your knee.

“That's Yuri, the queen of the house.” He steps away from you, setting the plastic bag on top of the kitchen counter a few feet away, his hands pulling out the containers and setting them down. “Don’t give her too much attention or she’ll never let you leave.”

Yuri glances up at you, her bright green eyes peering up innocently at Yoongi’s words, almost as if she was pleading for you to keep petting her. It doesn’t take much convincing for you to scoop your hands under her and press her against your chest as you stand up, your fingers gently scratching the top of her head. Yoongi lets out a sigh when he sees his cat has succeeded in wrapping you around her finger.

“Sorry, she’s too cute to not cuddle with.”

She nuzzles into your chest, purring in appreciation when your fingers trail down onto her spine. Yoongi watches you as he pops open the lid of the container that holds the noodles. Yuri is his baby, yet every time a new person comes into his place she acts like he doesn’t exist— well not until he pops open the container holding the sweet and sour pork. That's when her head pops up, her green eyes sharpening when she spots the food, and Yoongi glares back at the fluffy traitor.

When Yuri's fluffy body shakes slightly as you laugh Yoongi glances back at you, breaking up the staring contest he had going with his cat. “She’s gonna betray your love right now for some pork.”

You don’t doubt him, not with the way her paws start to push at your arms, attempting to stand up in your embrace until she’s hopping off from your arms and slowly walking towards Yoongi. She’s absolutely shameless as she rubs her body against his legs, and Yoongi can only look down at her before staring back up at you, gesturing out with his hands. “You see?”

The act of betrayal doesn’t sting, not when she’s as cute as she is. Instead you just chuckle, walking towards the stools Yoongi has by the oversized kitchen island, a breakfast bar set up at the end, the food spread out on top of it. He ignores Yuri for the time being, pulling out the stool beside yours and sliding into it. The both of you pull your chopsticks apart and get to eating instantly, swirling the noodles until they’re evenly coated in the sauce.

You try to ignore the way Yoongi blatantly stares at you as you bring up the first clump of noodles, waiting to see what your initial reaction would be to the food he held so near and dear to his heart. Yoongi knows this could go south so quickly, there is nothing worse than trying something new when you’re starving and having it absolutely suck. Sensing his nerves, you slurp the noodles up, and when the salty taste hits your tongue you hum, chewing them thoughtfully to make a show for Yoongi.

“Verdict?”

He waits patiently for you to swallow, sharp eyes analyzing your expression, seeing you lick your lips and grin at him. “You weren’t lying, definitely some of the best jajangmyeon I’ve had.”

In pure dramatics, he practically sags in his seat and raises a fist into the air in success, being able to properly enjoy his food now that he knew you approved of it. The two of you begin to eat in relative silence, the sound of munching and slurping filling up his kitchen space.

As the minutes go by, the back and forth of your chopsticks plucking out a dumpling after he did, lands with you snatching the last one. An evil cackle leaving you as you pop it into your mouth and grin at him, cheeks puffed out slightly and he can’t find it in himself to be irked at you snatching the last dumpling when you looked like that.

The compromise of that is you leaving the remaining pieces of pork for him to enjoy, and when Yuri gracefully hops onto the counter you see why he had suggested that. He grasps a tiny piece of pork on his chopsticks and feeds her like a parent would a toddler, airplane noise and all until Yuri opens wide and gently clamps down on the meat.

“She’s spoiled because of you.”

He merely shrugs, a giant smile spreading across his face as he watches her with adoration as she chews the food. “I refuse to confirm or deny that.”

As you finish up the last of your food you just watch on as Yoongi alternates between feeding himself and Yuri until no more pork remains. Seeing the soft way he acts with his cat just warms you up, Yoongi had always seemed like a blunt person from the times you’ve seen him at the store, his sense of humor is one that could easily be taken as harsh or cold if you didn’t match it, but you’d never expect to see him this way. The tops of his cheeks push out as he smiles at his cat, cupping her face between his hands and rocking it back and forth before planting a kiss on her forehead.

She seems to understand that that's her cue to hop off the counter, knowing that snack time is now over as Yoongi starts to clean up the empty containers. When you reach to clean your own mess up he’s quick to slap your hands away, smirking when you retract them with a small wince, your fingers rubbing the back of your palm that he had swatted with a pair of chopsticks.

“Shoo.” He waves his arm in the direction of his couch, not giving you another glance and missing the way you pout at how he had dismissed you like he would his cat.

With a huff you turn on your heel, properly taking in his living room. From the small tidbits of half truthful information that Taehyung had provided you with, you knew Yoongi was somebody in the music industry. You had always assumed that when people said that it meant struggling soundcloud rapper or something of the sort, but from the look of his apartment alone it was very evident that Yoongi was not a struggling soundcloud rapper.

The wall of his living room was lined with floor to ceiling windows, letting you catch a glimpse of the cityscape down below, the darkening horizon and slowly flickering street lights blending together. A dark grey couch was on the wall adjacent to that, directly facing the entertainment center he had set up, complete with a massive mounted television and soundbar, a collection of DVDs organized in the storage unit below it.

You walk closer to it, catching sight of the picture frames he had displayed along the top of it. They were all simple black frames, all differing in size, all of them having photos of Yoongi and his friends on them. The one in particular that had you smiling was a photo booth picture with Yoongi and Namjoon, they were accompanied by three other people, a boy with slightly red tinged hair and a bright smile, another boy with dark brown hair and a slight pout on his face from Namjoon squishing his cheeks, and a girl with light brown hair smiling widely as Yoongi gave her bunny ears.

Namjoon was a very smiley person, never needing a reason to be, but seeing Yoongi sporting a massive gummy smile had you realizing how nicely a smile suited him. It was clear that he held this group of people near to his heart considering they all occupied the remaining photos as well.

A couple of steps right beside that was where he had his prized possession, his record player that he had fully customized to get him the desired sound he was looking for. It was a sleek black, accents of silver shining off of it, resting pretty on a dark stained wooden stand. A few of his records were stored beneath it, but what really caught your eye was the eight by eight makeshift gallery wall that showcased his current favorite LP’s, each individually shelved to show the album art in all its glory.

“Should I give this a listen with you here?”

His question has you turning your head towards him, cutting your admiration of the album covers short. He stood a few feet away, his hands holding up the orange cover of the album he had bought today with your suggestion, and a small sense of nerves bubbles up in your stomach for some reason. You had always suggested music, confident in your choices when you were in the safety of the record store, but having to witness his first impression made you a little uneasy. What if he hated the band entirely, or worse, what if he pretended he didn’t hate them just to soothe your ego.

Is this what he felt like watching you take your first bite of food earlier?

“Sure,” you choke out, taking a giant step back from his record player, hearing him chuckle at your odd behavior.

As he lifts the cover up and slides the giant record out of its sleeve you decide to go sit on the couch, sinking into the plush material and welcoming Yuri into your lap when she jumps on as well.

With a few clicks, the low whirring is heard of the turntable beginning to spin. And when he eases the needle onto the record a small crackle sounds before Get Away starts to play. He fiddles with the volume slightly until satisfied, only then does he turn back around and join you on the couch.

His face is settled in thought, bobbing his head gently to the beat as he rests back against the couch, sinking into it with a groan until he’s fully comfortable, legs spread out with one arm resting casually on his lap and the other on the arm rest, fingers tapping along.

You watch on in silence, your fingers raking through Yuri’s fur until her purring calms your nerves and you’re sagging back. Before you know it your eyes shut as you listen along to the music, your belly is full and your limbs are sore from the unpacking and rearranging that had to be done at work so being able to sit here and shut your brain off while mellow music filled the room was what you needed.

Before long the A side is finished playing, Yoongi having to get up to flip it over until the B side plays all the way through, the ending voicemail of Palace/Curse playing until it fizzles out entirely, the room falling into silence once more.

Yuri had gotten comfortable herself, sprawled out across your lap with her head by your hip, but when Yoongi gets up with a stretch her head pops up, eyes narrowing at her owner until she senses no threat and lays back down.

“Verdict?” You repeat his earlier question, seeing him hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, his lips pursed in thought.

“Honest opinion?”

“Brutally honest.”

He hums with a sly grin as he turns his head to face you. “They’re good. Kinda makes me feel nostalgic too for some reason. But as a whole, it's great music that calms you down.”

With the way you’re laying practically boneless on his couch you can attest to that, they were definitely a band you listened to to unwind. He catches the wide smile spreading across your face as he stands back up to properly store the record, your smile only getting bigger when you see him replace one of the displayed albums on the wall with the new one.

“It's going on the wall of favorites,” he announces, sliding the previous record back into the storage underneath.

“I’m honored.”

He steps back from the wall with his hands on his hips, admiring how the orange of the album pops out against the others. Yoongi very rarely switched these albums out, but he had a feeling this wall would eventually become full of the random albums you’d recommend to him.

“Quick question,” he starts as he turns back to face you, taking in the sight of you and his cat cuddling together. “It’s been sitting at the back of my mind, and Taehyung has given me like three different answers.”

A small laugh leaves you as you raise your eyebrow at him in question. “Sure, what is it?”

“Where did you move from?”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, your toes just barely reaching the coffee table he has set up a bit away from the couch, Yuri mimicking your actions and stretching out as well. You were definitely gonna grow as attached to her as you were to your roommate’s cat.

“Like where was I last before this, or where am I actually from?”

He walks towards his fridge, still being able to see and hear you due to the open layout of his place. “Both I guess.” The door pops open and he reaches for a bottle of water.“You thirsty?”

“You have some wine, or some beer?”

Yoongi grunts at that, shaking his head slightly, “Sorry, I don’t drink anymore but I’ve got water and juice.”

You’re sitting up straighter now, voicing out that the water was fine. “Where I’m from is classified information, you’ll have to level up on our friendship for me to tell you that.” You accept the water he hands you, smiling at him as he sits back on the couch. He was fine with your secrecy, taking whatever you feel comfortable telling him. “But I was in Madrid before I came here.”

“Oh? Did you leave where you’re from to go live there?”

Your fingers capture Yuri’s paw, squishing her toe beans as she gently swats at your hair. “No, I was in Amsterdam before that, and Berlin before that as well to name a few. I’ve been bouncing around since I was 20, so about 6 years now.”

He has a look of interest on his face as he sips the water, leaning onto the couch sideways to face you. “Do you ever want to go back to those places?”

“Like visiting the place more than once?”

He nods, his eyes focusing on Yuri’s fluffy body, seeing her sitting back up to hop onto the ledge of the couch, rubbing her body against the back of your head before settling on the backrest of it and getting comfy.

“Hm, not sure. I can’t see myself wanting to flip back the pages of my life to reread a story I already know the outcome to.” With a sigh you shrug at him, your fingers now tracing the material of the couch. “Maybe in the future, years from now, I’ll crave a specific memory and want to go back, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

The amount of new cities and countries you’ve been lucky enough to call home for any amount of time held a special place inside of you, the memories and stories you had because of those experiences helped shape you into the person you are. Sure not all of them were movie-like experiences, some close calls happening at a few places that made you question whether you made the right choice living your life the way you did. But then you’d have moments that just felt right, and right now, sitting on this couch with Yoongi, this was one of those moments.

“So you don’t plan on staying here forever?”

“Well what do you mean by forever?”

He smiles, not thinking he would have to explain what forever meant to him. “For the rest of your life. Is there another version of forever Y/N?”

“Shut up,” you laugh. “It’s not likely, but who's to say. I never move somewhere with a time frame of how long I plan on staying.”

“How do you decide? Sorry if I’m prying but I just can’t imagine that moving somewhere new would be easy. Picturing having to leave friends behind would probably wound me.”

That was true, that was definitely the hardest part of doing this— emotionally at least. The people you met and befriended were a factor in deciding how long you’d stay somewhere. After the initial week of exploring a new place, it gets lonely. You’ve been to places where even the roommates you’d stay with weren’t friendly, and you’d have to take it a step further and search for friendships elsewhere. It was the main reason you had learned to not be timid when it came to making the first move.

“It’s kind of a gut feeling. The longest place I’ve lived in was Paris for two years.” A smile spreads across your face as you recall the two years you spent in that city, how you probably would’ve left after a few weeks if you hadn’t ran into that cute boy right before the club you were in shut down for the night. That experience alone was one of the main reasons you made it a conscious decision to not fall in love, not wanting to experience the inevitable heartbreak that came with it.

Paris was the first place you moved to, jumping head first into adventure and taking everything that came with it, including romance. Leaving friends behind had been hard, but leaving Park Jimin behind had been a different version of painful.

“Before this I was in Madrid for a month. I found myself getting comfortable too fast and when I get comfortable I get bored. When it's no longer new and exciting I don’t see the point of staying anymore.”

Yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, the carefree aura radiating off of you, but he weirdly craves it. He craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. His entire life had changed in the last few years and was now built off routine, bullet point to-do lists and deadlines he had to meet. The only adventure he experiences anymore is thanks to his friends, luring him out of his apartment to fulfil any of their spur of the moment ideas, but nothing comes close to this.

He’s not able to understand how you can be suspended in freefall for the majority of your life, and instead of panicking about your lack of parachute, you’re admiring the view.

“Do you plan on staying here forever?”

That question makes him freeze a little, he had been prying into your life no problem but now that a question was directed at him, he felt himself growing uneasy. “I guess I did.”

“Did...why past tense?”

You see the way he hesitates, his mind is already playing through all the scenarios that can come because of this but he decides to just bite the bullet. “Love makes you think of forever. I pictured forever with my fiance.”

At the mention of a fiance your mind thinks of the girl in the photos with Yoongi, the girl with the bright smile and wide eyes.

Was Yoongi a married man?

He can spot the way you process his vague information, knowing he should elaborate before you think anything else, before your eyes move to his ring finger only to find it bare. “When you’re with someone for almost 8 years its normal to think of forever you know.”

The flashes of his relationship play in his mind, meeting his fiance in his last year of high school. How they had pulled each other out of their shells, becoming rather chaotic in their adventures over the years, turning into adults and supporting each other in every aspect of life.

The memory of Yoongi proposing to her still feels fresh in his mind, taking her to Jeju island since it was a place she had always wanted to visit, not being able to due to caring for her family.

“We were actually planning our wedding, having invitations sent out with everything nearly ready but she uh–“ he stops to breathe slightly, his eyes moving to stare at the picture frames, proving your assumption of the girl being his fiance right. “She got into an accident.”

He hadn’t specified if she died or not, but that faraway look in his eyes spelled it out for you. Forever didn’t have any sympathy for his situation, but he just shrugs it off, forcing himself to not speak further on it. There was more that tied in to the tragic passing of his fiance but he felt he had overshared enough already, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by unloading this information on you. The last thing he needed was to turn this nice day into a pity party with him being the center of attention.

He’s just waiting for the routine apologetic words that would fall from your mouth—maybe you’d reach over and rub his arm like some people did, tell him how sad it was as if he didn’t already know. Some half assed attempt to make him feel better even though you were clearly blind sided by the topic.

Yoongi didn’t want that, always hating the way people would stare at him like he was some charity case. This was why he rarely chose to stray from his circle of comfort, from the people that knew the baggage that came with him and accepted him, keeping his group as tight knit as possible in order to not pick at scabbed over wounds.

When you sigh, he braces for it, mentally accepting that this might be what ends your new formed friendship before you could really creep through the cracks in the wall he built. But instead you reach forward and grasp Yuri once more, scooping her up and bringing her to your chest like a baby. “So Yuri wasn’t the only queen of the house, is that it?”

Yuri purrs in confirmation and Yoongi turns to stare at you again, blinking the wetness away from his eyes before he could even call them tears. You had a smile on your face as you stared at him, not that typical sympathetic smile people always sent his way, it was a genuine one, letting him know he was free to talk more on the subject if he needed to.

And for the first time Yoongi acknowledges that maybe he did need to. He was so used to bottling his emotions in, shutting himself off after her passing, pushing all of his friends and family away and locking himself at home as he mourned, submerging himself in his work to numb himself from feeling anything. Even now, his friends never pried, let him handle his feelings any way he wanted to. But Yoongi can’t act like his chest aches from keeping it all in, the pressure slowly releasing even with the minimal information he had given you.

“Yeah,” he sighs out in relief, reaching out to pet Yuri. “Hani was the queen before Yuri got promoted.”

As you coo at his cat he feels himself sagging back onto the couch. The small dam of emotions he had inside finally released, and before you know it he’s spilling everything out, telling you tidbit stories of him and Hani, and somehow easing you into sharing similar stories of you and Jimin.

The sun fully sets through the windows, neither of you noticing as you talk well into the night, and Yoongi found himself laughing and smiling at the mention of Hani for the first time in two years. You urge him on, watching on with interest while he talks about the day they had picked up Yuri from the shelter.

His eyes are crinkled up in that endearing way you had seen more of today than in the past weeks of knowing him, and it fills you with warmth to know he’s allowing you to know about this part of his life. It felt like sacred information, uncharted territory from the way he had hesitated in the beginning, almost like he wasn’t sure if he could trust you with the precious memories he held tightly. All he needed was a gentle nudge and a genuine smile to slowly let you flip the pages of his brain, knowing you wouldn’t judge the bleeding ink and scratched out words that came with each story.

As he stares at the way you smile at him, he comes to the realization that your sneaky ass must have already managed to slip past the cracks of the walls he built, infiltrating the tight knit circle he had for himself. He has to hold in a laugh when he recalls the way Taehyung had seriously suggested that you might be a spy sent here from another country. Maybe he was onto something, because he was refusing to accept that his willingness to overshare and stray from his norm was due to anything but your highly trained interrogation skills.

You clearly had his cat fooled as well. When Yuri leans up and nuzzles her face against yours he sighs, knowing she had claimed you as her favorite solely based on the attention you gave her. You were good. Yoongi guesses he would have to keep you around now, just for the sake of his cat, nothing more.

#yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #min yoongi #bts fluff #bts fics #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #heartsforbts #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #new #eleven months

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Ice Cold Pool

Part v of the Without You series: Colson and Y/N try to return to normal, but they still don’t know what normal actually is.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing (as per usual), substance use, people not following social distancing guidelines.

A/N: Seriously guys, wear your masks, social distance, etc. I really wanna go to a concert sometime in the next 2 years.

Word Count: 2743

| i | ii | iii | iv | vi |

masterlist

It had been 4 weeks since you and Colson had made the agreement to just be friends. Obviously, there were some hiccups in this plan. Most notably that hanging around Colson reminded you of all the reasons you loved him in the first place, and thus all the reasons you shouldn’t hang around him.

You were glad to be back to somewhat normal. You could hang around your friends without feeling too much tension, you could talk to Casie (who wanted to know everything that happened), and you could smoke again.

That last one you probably shouldn’t have been so happy about, but after a month without weed, you needed it.

Of course, not everything was back to normal. You and Colson weren’t technically… speaking. Yet.

You said simple things to each other, “excuse me,” “thank you,” and even the occasional “bless you” after a sneeze. But you had yet to have an actual conversation since that night. When hanging around the guys, you tried to be as normal as possible, interacting with Colson as little as possible. You didn’t want anyone else to think you felt awkward, because then they would feel awkward and it would be a whole awkward mess.

Tonight, you were hoping to ease some tension between you and Colson. Trippie was releasing the deluxe version of his new album and was having a “covid safe” album release party. All that meant was they would party outside rather than inside and only invite half the amount of people that they normally would.

Against your better judgement, Slim and Baze convinced you to go.

“There’s not even gonna be that many people there.”

“And Trippie would be so upset if you didn’t come.”

“If I go, will you two shut up?”

“Yes.” “Yes ma’am”

“Don’t call me ma’am ever again, Slim.”

So, you made a plan to talk to Colson at some point that night about something other than all of your problems with each other. If and only if the opportunity presented itself.

So, there you were in an oversized Misfits T-shirt that looked like a dress on you and shorts that no one could see, a beer in one hand, and a blunt in the other. You were sitting at the pool edge, your feet dangling in the water, as you talked to Iann Dior about cheese.

You may have been pretty tipsy, but he was worse.

“Cheddar cheese is the worst possible flavor of cheese.” Iann shook his head, laughing.

“Absolutely not. You can put cheddar in dishes, and they taste great. Cheddar makes things taste better. Brie cheese is the worst cheese. It’s literally fucking moldy.” You giggled, taking a swig of your drink.

“You’re both wrong. Feta cheese is the absolute worse and no one will convince me otherwise.” Colson chuckled, sitting next to you.

“There is nothing wrong with feta cheese, you two are just uncultured.” You laughed, the opportunity you needed apparently presenting itself. You took a quick glance at Colson, who was about to dip his feet in the water. “Colson your shoes are still on.”

He looked at you confused, and you realized just how high he was. “So?” he asked and Iann laughed.

“Dude, if you’re gonna put your feet in the water you gotta take your shoes off.”

Colson broke out laughing at Iann’s comment, his whole body shaking with joy. He slipped his shoes off once he finished and dangled his feet of the edge.

“So, you really think cheddar cheese is the best cheese?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“Noooo.” You whined, “I just don’t think it’s the worst kind of cheese. But obviously there are better cheeses.” You kicked your feet up, splashing Colson on accident.

He looked over at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. He reached his hand into the water, splashing water towards you. “Colson!” You squealed, laughing.

You returned the favor by flicking water at his shirt, at which point Iann left. “You get me wet and you die.” He said with a laugh.

Colson then cupped his hands together, bringing water up to your shirt and pouring it all over you, much to your dismay. Luckily, your shirt was black, but the water was still freezing. “Bro.” You pouted, looking over at Colson. He was smiling, but soon mimicked your pout.

“Aww, I’m sorry. Did the little princess get wet?” Your eyes went wide, and you slapped his chest. He grabbed your hand, pulling it up so you couldn’t hit him and accidentally pulling you closer to him. “I didn’t mean it like that!” He laughed, his hand intertwining with yours as he brought it back down.

“Colson…” You trailed off, warning him. He pouted, a sigh leaving his lips as he unlocked your fingers.

“Sorry, forgot I’m not supposed to do that.” You smiled a little, glad that things were slowly becoming normal. “I wanna go for a swim.” He changed the topic, standing up and pulling his shirt off.

“Colson it’s freezing. You’re gonna get sick.” You looked at him with wide eyes but a giggle falling from your mouth.

“Guess someone has to come in to keep me warm.” He shrugged, tugging his shorts down his legs so he was just in his boxers.

It was only at this point that you realized he was very drunk. A few moments later you felt the cold water splash your face as Colson jumped into the pool near you, coming up and running his hand through his hair.

He made his way back over to you, reaching for the beer that he left on the side of the pool. He half-stood in front of you, a needy smile on his face. “Get in the water with me Y/N.” He dragged out the last syllable of your name, causing you to roll your eyes.

“There is no way in hell I am getting in that water.” You chuckled, taking a hit of the joint in your hand.

Colson pouted, taking the blunt from you and smoking it himself. “I guess I could always just pull you in.” He grabbed your thighs and you moved backwards, fighting him.

“Colson, I don’t have a change of clothes, I’ll be cold.” You tried to squirm out of his grip, giggling.

“You can just wear my shirt or something. Someone will have something.” He shrugged, pulling you into the water.

“Colson!” You squealed before your entire body was encased in the cold liquid.

“Too late.” He said, a cheeky smile on his face. His arms wrapped around you as you turned to face the edge, ready to get out. “Noooo, you’re already in here.” He whined, dragging you towards his chest.

“Colson, it’s freezing. We need to get out.” You said, turning your head to face him.

“I don’t want to. This is the closest I’ve been to you in weeks. I just wanna enjoy this for a moment.” His head rested on top of your head, and you let yourself fall back into his chest.

You had to admit, you did miss his playfulness and his touch, and you really hadn’t been this close to him in a while. But you knew he wouldn’t be doing any of this if he wasn’t both drunk and stoned out of his mind.

You sighed, knowing you needed to end the moment, if not for your own sanity. “C’mon Col, we can’t do this. Let’s get out.”

He groaned. “We did this when we were friends before, how is this any different from that?”

You made your way to the edge of the pool. “It just is Colson.” You sighed, trying to mask the anger in your voice. You tried to pull yourself up to sit on the edge of the pool, but you couldn’t quite make it the first time. Colson, of course, took it upon himself to help you, grabbing your hips lightly to lift you up. He got out and sat next to you, both of you soaking wet.

He reached over and grabbed the shirt he was wearing earlier, passing it to you. “Here, so you don’t get sick.” He seemed to be sobering up, probably due to the cold water.

“Thanks.” Your voice was hushed, your cheeks burning with a blush that you couldn’t explain. It’s just a shirt, you told yourself. You stood up, preparing yourself to find somewhere private to change.

“Where are you going?” Colson asked, looking up at you.

“To change.” You said bluntly. “I can’t exactly strip in front of 40 people.”

Colson nodded, standing up next to you, pulling his shorts on. “Where are you going?” You asked him, a small smile on your face.

“Wherever you are.” He smiled and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, I guess I can use you to clear my path inside.” You chuckled, starting to walk towards the crowd of people near the doors of the house. As you moved through the crowd you found yourself instinctively reaching back for Colson’s hand, not wanting to lose him as you moved through the crowd. He happily took the hint and moved closer to you, his free hand resting on your hip to help guide you to the doors, though you didn’t mind as much as you should have.

You made your way through the open glass door, suddenly very self-conscious about the clothes you were wearing and the fact that you were soaking wet. “Bathroom is this way.” Colson mumbled into your ear as the loud music blasted around you. The hand on your hip led you down a small hallway until you found the open bathroom.

You went in, turning to close the door when you saw Colson had followed you in. “I gotta change, Kells. You can’t be in here.”

“Woah woah woah.” He started, clearly offended, “You never call me Kells. That’s not allowed.” You giggled, rolling your eyes. “And I’ll just… look away.” He covered his eyes with his hands, moving his fingers to form a gap.

“Colson, seriously,” You laughed, “turn around.” He thankfully did as told, and you quickly removed the Misfits shirt you were previously wearing and replaced it with his long sleeve pink shirt. It wasn’t quite as long as the other one you were wearing, but it still went down to your upper thigh and the sleeves went far enough past your wrist for permanent sweater paws. Unfortunately, this meant you would have to keep your wet shorts on.

Upon realizing this, you let out a sigh of disappointment. “What?” Colson questioned, still facing the wall.

“You can look now.” He turned around. “It’s not as long as mine.” You pouted, stretching your arms out for him to see before flopping them back down to your sides.

Colson chuckled, “I really don’t see the problem, Y/N.”

You glared playfully, “I have to wear my wet fuckin shorts.” You whined, a pout on your lips.

“I meannn, you don’t have to.” Colson said, playfully. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! But I don’t know what to do to help you.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, looking off into the distance. “I’m not giving you my pants, Y/N.” Another dramatic sigh. “Okay fine we’ll just go to his laundry room and through them in the dryer, okay?”

“See, you do know what to do to help me.” You smiled, grabbing your wet shirt and pushing Colson out of the bathroom.

The laundry room in Trippie’s house was surprisingly small, given his house was a small mansion. You were able, however, to close the door and pull off your wet clothes. Colson threw your shirt in the dryer as well.

You hopped up onto the washer, your legs dangling off. “You don’t have to stay, Colson.” You told him, knowing he probably wanted to rejoin the party.

“I’m good. This is much more fun than whatever’s going on out there.”

You laughed, “waiting for my clothes to dry? Whatever, loser.”

He moved towards you, his stomach touching your knees. “I’ve missed this.” He said, softly. You met his eyes with your own. “Just us doing stupid shit. Being friends.”

“We’re still friends, Cols.” You smiled, tilting your head to the side.

He sighed, “Yeah but we haven’t really been friends since…” He trailed off, but you knew what he meant. “Not real friends, at least.”

You sighed, trying to decide what you wanted to say. “I’m sorry about that. I just needed a little bit of space and it never felt like the right time to… talk. Like if we started talking in a group everyone would just think it’s weird.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” his hand reached out to touch your waist. “If anything, I should be apologizing. It’s my fault we’re stuck in this weird limbo shit anyways. I was honestly afraid the guys would kill me if I talked to you.”

“Well, good thing it’s not up to the guys anymore.” Your voice got soft as you realize how close your faces had gotten. “And we can be normal friends again.” You added.

Colson looked down. “Yeah, normal friends.” He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice but failed miserably.

“Colson, we’re just friends, right?” You asked, trying to convince yourself more than him.

He nodded, “Yeah, we’re just friends.” He looked up and met your eyes, and you could see the emotions in his crystal blue eyes. “But I don’t know that I can just be friends.” His voice was soft, making your heart sink deeper.

His head was inches away from yours, his nose almost touching your own. He leaned his head to the side, his eyes traveling your face. His lips were millimeters from yours. “Tell me that you don’t want this, and I’ll walk out right now.”

“I…” You couldn’t form a sentence with his lips so close to your own. “We shouldn’t.” You whispered.

“That’s not what I asked.” He paused, touching his nose to yours lightly. When he spoke, you could feel his words on your lips. “Do you want me to kiss you right now?”

You couldn’t answer him for a few seconds. “I don- I don’t know Colson.” You breathed out, leaning your forehead against his.

Part of you was hoping he would take matters into his own hands and just kiss you, but the other part of you knew you would regret anything that happened right now.

He jerked his head away from you, a frown etched across his face. “When are you gonna make up your goddamn mind? I can never figure out where I’m at with you.” His voice raised slightly, making you jump. “One minute we’re not even talking and the next you’re holding my fucking hand at a party. You say we’re just friends and then don’t say no when I ask if you want me to kiss you. Like what the fuck is this?” He ranted, causing your grip on the edge of the washer to tighten.

“Colson, I told you. I need time to figure all of this out. It doesn’t just happen overnight.” You tried to keep your voice calm.

“It’s been weeks, Y/N. How long do you need?”

Confusion took over your features, and then anger. “Colson do you even realize what you did? Honestly, you’re fucking lucky I even wanted to be friends. You kind of screwed me up, really bad. So, excuse me for needing time to figure out if you’re worth it or not.” Your eyes fell to the floor, suddenly very self-conscious of all the things Colson had said to you 2 months ago.

Colson scoffed, backing away from you, “Well honestly it would be a lot easier if we weren’t friends.” His words were harsh, and you were reminded that he wouldn’t change, not really. “Y/N I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice became soft, but it was already too late.

You hopped off the machine, pushing past him and pulling your damp shirt and shorts out of the dryer. With your back facing him, you pulled your shorts on and then took his shirt off, replacing it with your own.

“Y/N I’m sorry I jus-“

“No, Colson. I’m sorry. I keep forgetting that my existence seems to be the bane of yours.” You shove his shirt into his chest. “You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” You walked out of the small room and through the house, determined to call a cab home.

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Wade Walker

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(As much as I love the vaccine scene in the movie, I tried my best to make a different “meeting” scenario)

- You and Crybaby meet at school. You’re not exactly a square or a drape, you mainly just keep to yourself which means that you both stand out yet are invisible at the same time.

- That’s the reason Crybaby never really noticed you before: he was more occupied with his gang; and occasionally fighting with the squares, to pay anyone else any mind.

- The thing about Crybaby is that he attaches himself to girls very quickly. He falls hard and fast for a multitude of reasons, all of which one can gather from his past. There’s this hole in his soul that he just keeps failing to fill …but then he sees you.

- You see, there’s this area of the school that only the drapes really go in. It’s the corridor that’s away from everything, where they put all the classrooms for the delinquents and those who don’t do their work.

- But your school doesn’t have separate teachers for every single class so when you need to talk to one of your teachers, you’re forced to go down that hall to do so. So go down there you did, and boy did people stare.

- As you’re walking; and feeling the gazes of people who aren’t too keen on you being there, you can’t help but take notice of the difference in a certain boys stare. While the others are borderline hostile, his is …beckoning, it’s like he’s calling you towards him. But that can’t be true, right?

- You quickly avert your eyes, gulp, and make your way into your teachers second classroom, trying your best to pay him and his gang no mind.

- Well, from then on, Wade Walker has his eyes set on you. You’ll find him watching you, staring from across parking lots, hallways, and lunchrooms. You would have assumed he was looking at something else had his gaze not been so intense and focused. You wondered if he was waiting for you to do something, or if he was giving you a warning; a promise that he was coming towards you soon.

- He finally does so after school one day. Like so many other days, you’d locked eyes as you walked down the front steps of the school. You’d contemplated just going up to him and finally saying hi, but you were brought out of the lure of his eyes by his gang sneering at everyone from beside him.

- That was when he decided to make his move; when he was sure that you liked him but just didn’t have the nerve to let him know yourself. He thought it was sweet; you were cute in a way that most drapes weren’t.

- As I mentioned before: people didn’t pay much attention to you so as you were going to begin your journey home, you got bumped into and subsequently ignored as your things went rocketing towards the ground.

- As you were knelt down, gathering your books, two scuffed up boots came into view and soon enough, Crybaby Walker had leant down and was handing you one in all his ever intense glory.

- You straightened up and took it from him, thanking him and shyly introducing yourself. By that point, the rest of his gang had made their way over and Wade told you his name before introducing the rest of them.

- He asked if you wanted to hang out with them, you told him that you had to get home before your parents worried, causing his gang to “ooo” at you. He didn’t pay them any mind and followed you as you slowly walked, offering you a ride home.

- Figuring that this was your chance, you gave him a smile and accepted, bringing a smile to his face as well. He slung an arm around your shoulder and nodded back at his hot rod, leading you along with him as he walked.

- You ended up in the back of the car, squished between Wanda and both Hatchet-face and Milton; Hatchet being on Milton's lap. Every now and again, you’d lock eyes with Crybaby in the mirror as he made conversation and a small smile would make its way to your face.

- He’d been telling you about the performance he was going to give that night just as he pulled up in front of your house. Right before your mother called you in, you’d leaned down to look through the window, telling him that you’d like to hear him sing sometime before thanking him for the ride and running inside.

- Boy, you should have seen how flustered you had him.

- The two of you have your first date later that day. You said you wanted to see him sing, didn’t you? Well, he rode his way right up to your house and knocked on your door, asking your mother if you were home.

- You peeked out from behind her and smiled at him before he explained that he wanted to take you out. With a little urging, you convinced her to let you go and soon enough you were hopping on his bike and gathering with the drapes to see him perform.

- The two of you share your first kiss that same night. He’d just finished performing and the two of you were stood a little ways from the party by his brand new bike. He’d led you over there and as you were talking and walking, he’d turned for a moment and pressed his lips to yours.

- He paused to see your reaction and when you didn’t react negatively, he gave you a little smirk and kissed you longer. After that, he may or may not have taken you to “makeout point”.

- And thus, you became the king’s queen.

- Crybaby can’t keep his hands off of you; he’s extremely affectionate and touchy with you no matter where you are.

- He’ll usually have one arm around Peppers shoulder and another around your waist/shoulder.

- Him pinching your cheeks, usually after you do or say something that he thinks is cute. Other times, he’ll just do it after you catch him watching you with this fond look on his face.

- Cheek kisses.

- Hard kisses.

- Making out and French kisses. Never done it before? That’s obviously not a problem.

- Being dipped into kisses.

- Him laying his head in your lap or resting his chin on your shoulder; depending on where you are and your stance on getting hair grease on your clothes.

- He usually won’t initiate cuddling himself but he’ll certainly let you snuggle into him and then slowly cuddle back himself. He sort of just doesn’t know how to express that he just wants to hold you so he lets you do it when you want it.

- Orphans have special needs. No matter how much he’ll try to not admit it or how much he doesn’t think that he is, Crybaby is definitely touch starved. He just really needs your affection sometimes so please just be nice to this borderline traumatized boy.

- He calls you a lot of pet names so I’ll just list a few: baby, sugar, little thing, queenie, kitten, honey, and angel, amongst others.

- Compliments. He thinks you’re the greatest and nothing can change his mind.

- Being sung to. Sometimes, he’ll just break out into song; usually love songs and usually with him bringing you into a little dance with him whenever you sort of give a giggle in response.

- Winking, teasing, and flirting. He’s damn good at making you flustered but you can make him just as flustered, just through different means.

- It’s surprisingly easy for you to turn him on; you do it without even meaning to, but at the same time, he still just thinks you’re the sweetest.

- Air kisses; you all know what I’m talking about. Some of the time he does it affectionately, other times he’ll do it sarcastically; all depends on the situation.

- Getting close to his sister and family; you’re always invited to come visit. Ramona probably embarrasses him by talking about what cute grandchildren the two of you would make.

- His friends teasing the two of you.

- Leaning against his car with him and his gang.

- Bridal carrying and getting thrown over his shoulder. He likes the little squeals and giggles that you make when he does it unexpectedly.

- Puppy dog eyes. Wade can convince you to do just about anything and it’s adorably frustrating.

- Having him occasionally check in and make sure you’re okay with things. You can always let him know that you don’t like something and he’ll stop it and/or bring you someplace else.

- Having to put up with Lenora. She’s constantly trying to cause problems between the two of you though her plots rarely ever manage to actually do anything.

- He always tries his best to impress you. His singing, his bike, his personality, his stories, whatever he thinks will interest you, he’ll use.

- I’m not gonna lie, he probably gets your name tattooed on him in one of those stereotypical red hearts.

- Wearing his jacket and/or getting your own shiny leather number.

- He loves being able to show you off and let everyone know that you’re together. He’s very proud of you so expect him to make your relationship obvious to everyone.

- Going to turkey point. Everyone there loves you, even if they don’t outwardly act like it all the time.

- Oftentimes, he’ll just show up at your house or wherever you are unannounced, just to see if you’re not busy and would like to come do something with him. He just likes seeing you, alright?

- Motorcycle rides. The two of you make quite an entrance when you’re arriving at places.

- Laying out under the stars together, though you’re probably more occupied with each other than looking at them.

- Drive-in movies.

- Sneaking out to see him, especially if your parents don't approve of him.

- Washing his car and bike with him. The two of you usually end up having water fight; he’ll occasionally grab you and squeeze you against him before giving you a kiss while you both sit there slightly soaked.

- Standing up for him. He’s all smiles whenever he listens to you tell someone off for talking bad about him.

- It doesn’t matter what it is, any punishment that you may have to receive, he’ll try and take it for you; even if why you’re being punished has nothing to do with him. He just can’t stand the thought of you having to suffer.

- He’s surprisingly well mannered and chivalrous for a drape. It may not be entirely authentic but he can certainly leave a good impression when he has to, like when he’s meeting your parents for instance.

- Even though he’s sort of a delinquent, Crybaby is still really sweet; and handsome, which is why your mother probably just can’t help but like him. He’s rough around the edges and wears ridiculous clothes but he’s nice. Your dad on the other hand....

- Since there’s always at least one girl trying to make it with him, he always reassures you that he doesn’t want anyone but you; and that’s the honest truth. Whenever he shoo’s someone off, he’ll turn to you and make sure you didn’t take their flirting too personal.

- Crybaby gets extremely jealous; especially when it comes to certain people like ex boyfriends or people who are obviously interested in you. He’ll always demand that you leave with him immediately; it’s the way he makes sure that you’ve chosen him and are sticking to your decision.

- He’s incredibly protective of you so expect him to jump to your defense and possibly; most likely, fight people over/for you.

- The two of you don’t really fight all too often; mainly because you understand him enough to know that it usually isn’t you that he’s actually upset with. When you do fight, he’ll usually have a bit of an outburst before calming down and trying his best to explain what’s got him so worked up.

- It’s easy to forgive him; especially when his sister tells you how he’s been moping around all day. He’ll approach you a bit hesitantly and ask if you can talk before telling you that he’s sorry and; usually, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek or forehead.

- Wade certainly isn’t scared of telling you he loves you; especially through song, so you’ll always know that he does.

- Even though it’s no secret that he adores you, he always gets sorta shy after he absentmindedly says things like “when we get married” or “when I have kids”.

#crybaby walker imagine #crybaby walker headcanons #crybaby walker headcanon #crybaby walker imagines #wade walker imagines #wade walker imagine #wade walker headcanons #wade walker headcanon #90s movie headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagines #crybaby imagine #crybaby imagines #crybaby headcanons #crybaby headcanon

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jincherie · 4 years

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tentacledipity | six

➛pairing: jimin x reader ➛genre: alien au, space au, soulmate au, wanted au, smut, light angst ➛rating: m ➛words: 9k ➛warnings: cheeky shenanigans on the outskirts of the palace grounds, smut, vaginal fingering, light nipple play, squirting,light dirty talk, light angst ➛notes: I cannot believe this one long scene is fucking 9k, I’m out of control. Anyway! Here’s the relief you’ve all been waiting for!! There aren’t any tentacles yet but it will be worth it when they finally arrive FJBHGHV. p.s. this does have a read more!

This tale starts, as any good fiction does, with a girl crash landing on a foreign planet. And, like any good fiction, it follows a theme of serendipitous happening, and tentacles. Behold, serendipity and tentacles— or dare we call it…. tentacledipity.

— posted; 30.04.2020 // ↞ prev. || six || next ↠

In the entirety of your life, you’d probably been truly nervous approximately… three times.

The first time was when you were a child. On a trip to the store with your guardian at the time, you’d wondered off to the section that had all of the rows of sweets and candies in clear boxes with scoops so that you could make your own mixed bag. Even when young, you were apparently still very self-indulgent at your core, and a little too quick to entertain the urges flitting through your gut. Urges that were also a little too quick for your brain to catch and filter them. You loved candy, or more specifically you loved Purple Planets, something like a gobstopper that changed flavours with each layer of the candy that wore down in your mouth. These little candies were the equivalent of magic in your eyes, and the second you caught sight of them in that row you wanted one. Of course, you’d wondered too far from your guardian and they weren’t nearby for you to ask them. That was when you got the urge, the sinful little whisper in the back of your mind that maybe you could just sneak one—taking a single candy couldn’t hurt anyone, could it? You quickly decided that no, it couldn’t, and reached in and swiped one of the orbs with nimble hands. You threw it in your mouth straight away, and when you looked up you met eyes with a cranky-looking older woman that had evidently been staring at you the whole time. She’d leaned over the boxes and whispered to you, “You’re going to go to jail now. The guards are on their way.”

Understandably, you’d run away to find your guardian after that, too young and trusting of adult authority to realise that woman was just being nasty and old. You’d been so nervous while leaving the store, clinging to your guardian, that you’d nearly passed out. Of course, no one was waiting to arrest you outside the store like you feared, and once you were on your way home you decided you hated old people because they’re mean and liars.

The second time you truly felt nervous was when you were leaving your home planet for the first time. By that point you’d become more than disillusioned with Earth, but still… you worried that leaving would be a decision you’d regret, and that the life in store for you beyond its atmosphere wouldn’t be anything like you hoped and dreamed. You were also, understandably as a first-time flyer, nervous that something would go wrong as you left the planet and the ship would blow up, or something along those lines. That, of course, didn’t happen—and you quickly decided to never be nervous about anything like this again because you really didn’t like the feeling.

Which brought you to the third time you’d ever felt decidedly nervous—which, incidentally, happened to be right now.

You were standing outside Jimin’s room, impressed with yourself that you managed to find it but unable to enjoy the pride for the nerves currently rioting in your stomach. Why you were nervous, you couldn’t quite pinpoint—you were reluctant to even attempt it because you had a feeling that you weren’t going to be too fond of the reason you unearthed.

You had no idea what he’d called you here for – possibly part of the cause for your nerves – and so hadn’t known exactly how to dress. It was a hot, humid night though, something that persisted even despite the breeze that filtered through spacious halls and bare windows. So you’d simply worn one of the singlets you’d brought with you to this planet (a nice change from the usual high neckline of kelkie dress) and some of the loose, satiny pants that have slits up the side of the legs, all the way to just below your hip. You’d assured yourself it was a practical choice and not just one you made because your most base instinct is to seduce a certain alien.

You also had to do some guesswork on what was meant by ‘midmoon’, and went with the assumption that it was like midday but for night time—so midnight. You really hoped you weren’t too wrong with this one because if you were late you had a very strong feeling that Jimin wouldn’t let it go for a long time. Which was something you decidedly didn’t need, considering how pissed he’d seemed earlier this evening.

This, you’d realised, was probably a big factor in the rare appearance of your nerves—apart from the fact that Jimin had never been truly angry at you before, you also had no idea what had pushed him so far earlier that he looked so pissed. He was angry and had called you to be at his room at midnight and you had no idea why. You decided that just this once you couldn’t blame yourself for being nervous, especially when you recalled how many times you’d joked about finally making the kelkie snap. You sincerely hoped that this wasn’t karma, but you weren’t feeling too optimistic about it considering how much she’d been riding your ass lately.

A while ago you’d turned your gaze to the window in the hall that opened onto Jimin’s gardens, wanting a distraction and finding it in the luminescent foliage that glows beneath the moonlight. You didn’t realise just how out of it you were, standing there staring into the untamed beauty of Kilkea’s flora, until a voice sounded beside you and you honest to god almost jumped right out of your skin.

“You’re on time. Good, I won’t have to track you down.”

“Holy FUCK, Jimin!” you whirled around, hand flying to your chest and wide eyes finding him quickly in the almost-dark. Your cheeks heated at the squeak you’d let out in fright before, and then further at the way the alien’s eyes were boring into you, dark and swirling. His gaze raked across your collarbones and then up the length of your neck before it settled and met your own, a trail of prickling heat rising in its wake across your skin. “Please don’t scare me like that, humans can die of fright, you know.”

His brows rose, the intensity of his eyes lightening slightly and allowing you to breath. “I did not know,” he murmured, taking a step closer and sending your nerves haywire once more. “I will keep it in mind, petal.”

You tried not to watch his mouth as he spoke, but his pillowy lips proved too much for you to resist, especially when he was this close. Swallowing, you tore your eyes away and attempted to get some sort of control back in this situation.

“So, uh…” You began, trying to take a step away as discreetly as possible. You weren’t as successful as you might have hoped, his eyes tracking the movement easily. “Why did you call me here? At this time? I’m sorry about the whole, uh… thing, earlier. It wasn’t on purpose, I promise. That bastard Seokjin kicked my stool—”

Up until you mentioned Seokjin, Jimin’s expression remained so neutral that you might have been inclined to believe that he’d forgotten, or at least forgiven, the incident entirely. As soon as the other male’s name fell from your lips, though, something like irritation flitted across Jimin’s features. As soon as you noticed it, you snapped your mouth shut; you decided you probably shouldn’t push your luck too much tonight. You know, for survival reasons.

“There is something I have to do,” he said, cryptically. His brow quirked and in the next second he was turning on his heel and beginning to stride away. “And since you made such a mess of helping out earlier, I figured that you may as well make yourself useful where I can see you. Come, this way. We’re going outside the palace.”

You were confused and also kind of turned on at how bossy he was being; hastily you started after him, attempting to keep up as best as you can. True to his word, he was leading you in the direction of one of the exits that sits in the back of the palace, near the kitchens.

“What do you—uh, I mean we, have to do that we have to leave the palace?” You asked, arms swaying as you walked. He had a quick stride tonight, not as attentive as he usually was to how fast he was going in comparison to you. You feared that by the time you reached your destination, wherever that may be, you’d be a dripping, sweaty mess.

Jimin hummed, as though he was pondering whether to give you the answer or leave you hanging; you liked to think you were getting better at reading him, but you wouldn’t put any money on it. He turned his head slightly, eyes catching your own over his shoulder—if it weren’t for the magnetic draw they currently had to them then you might have been hypnotised by the shimmering mauve colour of his marks instead.

Actually, there was a lot about him tonight that threatened to distract you completely. His arms were out, sleeveless silken shirt hugging each curve and dip of the muscles in his back; the material of his pants did a fantastic job of emphasising his behind, too. The last one was almost your undoing when you were so focused on your observation that you nearly missed the words he threw your way.

“A lot of the plants on this planet present a beautiful front during the daytime hours, but some only truly bloom beneath moonlight.” Jimin turned the next corner that approached the second he finished speaking, almost losing you in the process. You had to hurry to catch up to him, glimpsing an amused quirk of his lips as you did so. Bastard, now he’s just being a pain. “There are some fruit we need to harvest for some of the dishes on the menu for the celebration. They sit on the furthest reaches of the grounds, almost outside of them, and the fruit are only revealed at night.”

“Oh,” you said, thoughts rushing to catch up before getting caught on one thing in particular. You wondered, did this mean there would be pies on the menu? Oh, you hoped so. The chefs in the palace kitchens really knew how to make good desserts, and you didn’t doubt they could take any ingredients they wanted and turn it into a mouthwatering dish. Gods, you were so excited already that you swore you just felt your stomach rumble.

You followed Jimin out of the palace and onto the grounds, the two of you finding one of the stone paths and proceeding down it. To your credit, you didn’t bother him all that much, for once. He seemed to notice, if the curious looks he was shooting over his shoulder every time you were silent for more than a few minutes were anything to go by.

Although, to be fair, it wasn’t just your fantastic self-restraint that you had to thank for your sudden ability to shut up for more than a few minutes at a time; you were, for a majority of the walk, caught up in looking at the scenery around you. Just as you mused earlier, you didn’t think you’d ever get sick of looking at the environment here. The luminescent hues and hypnotic patterns that trail along branches and swirl across leaves and petals; it’s breathtaking, and you’d never get used to it.

Despite the fact that you’d actually listened earlier and therefore knew that you were heading to the edge of the palace grounds, you were still surprised by how far out the two of you were venturing at this time of night. You weren’t scared, had no reason to be, and your surroundings were actually illuminated nicely by moonlight and the glow cast from crystals and stones that line the edge of the path, so you didn’t have to worry about stumbling or anything like that. It added to the magic of the moment, if anything.

You thought it couldn’t get any better, or any more beautiful, than this, but you were quickly proven wrong when you trailed after Jimin around a curve in the path and came upon a dead-end of sorts. You audibly gasped at the sight before you, rooted to the spot in awe—you don’t even notice the weight of a gaze on you. “Oh my gosh… it’s so pretty…”

In front of you was a clearing of sorts that backed onto a looming cliff face, lush shrubbery peaking over the ridge, the descent covered in thick, curling vines that glowed turquoise and emerald beneath the moonlight and danced jubilantly in the breeze. The flowers that bloomed across the cliff were rosy, petals curling back like lilies and speckled with bioluminescent blue, but at the very centre of the flowers was a fruit that you instantly longed to put in your mouth. It appeared like a blackberry, but supersized—it was plump and juicy looking, and if you had to guess you’d say it would probably be about the size of your hand.

Surprisingly enough, the fruits weren’t the first thing to catch your attention. No, that was the waterfall that split the cliff face to the right, shimmering waters flowing into a large, deep lake at the base. Black pebble-like stones lined the shore, and larger obsidian chunks jutted into the water along its girth. The way the water danced beneath the moonlight almost had you well and truly hypnotised, if it weren’t for the sound of Jimin’s voice breaking through your thoughts.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.” He hummed, and you didn’t realise he’d begun to walk away until you turned and caught him moving to the side. Any questions you might have had as to why were quickly answered when you saw him procure two woven baskets from a weathered table by the cliff. He turned back and halted when he saw you in the same position as before. “Come on, petal, these aren’t going to pluck themselves into our baskets.”

Cheeks flushing for some reason unbeknownst to you, you hurried over to take one of the baskets in his hold, following him when he moved to the part of the cliff closest to the table and furthest from the lake. Well, you decided that you didn’t really have any reason to be so nervous earlier. Yet another reason to banish the emotion from your being.

“These are pippura,” Jimin informed you when you approached him, looking to make sure that you were listening. You offered him a bright, shit-eating grin to reassure him and he rolled his eyes before turning back to the vines. You caught the way his lips had quirked before he did, though, and filed it away in your victory drawer for later gloating. “They only grow on cliff faces near running water—we are lucky enough to have such a place as this on the grounds. If we didn’t, then we would have to venture much further to procure some.”

“Are they special?” you found yourself asking, swinging the basket around your wrist idly and then stopping immediately when he sent you a warning glance. “I mean, are they important for celebrations?”

“They are used in a lot of traditional dishes that feature in celebrations such as this one,” Jimin confirmed, muscles of his back shifting as he reached to grab one of the fruits hanging a little above his head. “You will be happy to know that many of those dishes are desserts.”

He was right—you were happy to hear that. You couldn’t stop the stupid, excited grin from slipping onto your face at the thought of all the delicious possibilities you were going to be able to try for the first time. If these fruits tasted as good as they looked, then you were going to be in for a good time.

Jimin might have been somewhat tense at the beginning of this little venture, but as the two of you went about plucking the vines bare of their fruits and filling your baskets with their bounty, he seemed to ease into himself a little, growing a little more playful and a little more sassy. Which is to say, he returned to the Jimin you knew and loved. Of course, the second you noticed this, you were unable to help yourself from resuming your usual shithead antics. You poked and prodded at him playfully with a few verbal jabs, all of which either got you a small snort and a grin, or a look loaded with tension and restraint. It was exhilarating—you didn’t realise just how much you’d missed this! Granted, it hadn’t been all that long since you’d been a thorn in Jimin’s side, but you were a simple girl who enjoyed the simple things in life.

It was still a humid night, and although the breeze did help some in keeping you from overheating, you still found yourself casting longing looks towards the water behind you. Gods, it had been so long since you last swam—now that the idea was in your head, you couldn’t get it out. Of course, that idea followed the path in your brain that most thoughts take these days, and your gaze flicked from Jimin, to the water, and then back to Jimin. No… you shouldn’t. You only just got back in his good graces, you didn’t fancy another near death experience today. But still…

You couldn’t rid the thought from your head, trying not to let your scheming show on your face. Jimin was a lot sturdier and a lot stronger than you, so the only way you’d even be able to get him in the water by surprise would be to full-body tackle him. You didn’t think you’d come out of that unscathed. Still… the longer you stewed in the humid air, the weaker you found yourself becoming to the idea. By this point, you knew you were going to end up going for a midnight swim in that lake, it was just a matter of whether you were going to be able to convince Jimin. Well, admittedly your definition of ‘convince’ was becoming looser by the minute, so the nature of Jimin’s impending entrance into the lake was, at this point, very subject to change. There were a number of scenarios playing out in your mind’s eye.

It was when your basket was nearing overflowing, and you grabbed one last fruit a little too hard and landed yourself with a hand covered in sticky berry juice, that you had an idea. The juices were an odd, shimmery dark blue and seemed eager to stain, just like the berries you knew from earth. Fantastic. You shuffled closer to Jimin, who had become so enraptured in the task by this point that he didn’t even pay you any mind. You were planning on pretending to trip, but karma had its kiss for you and you ended up actually tripping on a rock on your way to him, like a loser. As regrettable as it was, it did get the job done all the same.

“Oh shoot—sorry!” As would be the natural instinct of any red-blooded woman, you’d reached for Jimin’s bicep when you fell and ended up bursting the fruit against it, spilling its juices all over him. You did feel a little bad, despite the fact this had been your plan all along, but you were more surprised when instead of recoiling like you’d expected, Jimin had whipped around and attempted to catch you from tumbling to the ground instead. You didn’t have time to relish in the resulting flutter of your heart, because he quickly realised what you’d spilt on him and proceeded to send you an exasperated look.

“Are all humans such trouble? You are almost as clumsy as Namjoon,” he remarked, but you caught the twinkle of amusement in the darkness of his eyes as he righted you to your feet.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” you informed him, before pulling out your most innocent smile. “And at least there’s a lake here to wash off in!”

Jimin’s eyes flicked back over his shoulder, taking in the body of water nestled against the cliff. He hummed for a moment, before shrugging and letting you go to place his basket down and make his way over to the pebbled shore. “I wouldn’t need to wash off if you had watched where you were walking, petal.”

You rolled your eyes, watching for a moment as he slipped his boots off, placing them by one of the rocks wedged into the shore and proceeding to roll his pants up before stepping into the water. You snapped yourself out of your staring—now was the time to strike!

“Is it cold?” you asked, trying not to betray your intentions as you slipped your own shoes off and began to creep over. He was bending slightly, trying to scoop some water into his palms, and if you had to hold yourself back from being a bastard a second longer you were going to combust.

“Of course not, it’s lovely,” he muttered, somewhat absentmindedly. His marks shimmered neutral blue as his fingers swirled through the water. Now that you knew you weren’t going to make him freeze to death by pushing him in, you had no qualms acting on the urge that had been bothering you for the better part of the last ten minutes.

“Oh, good,” you remarked, before taking a moment to accept the very real possibility of death after this. As soon as you were at peace with it, you disengaged your rational thought machine and enacted your plan. Quick as you could, you darted across the grass and planted your hands on Jimin’s butt with all your strength (not! For the reason one might be thinking! It was a purely strategic move to make him most unbalanced), miraculously succeeding in pushing him off his feet and, subsequently, into the water.

“Y/N—!”

The way he just barked your name in shock made you as excited as it did scared for you life—although, if you were being honest, the line between those two had been getting more and more blurred lately. Tumbling into the rippling waters of the lake he went, deep enough where he fell that for a moment he was completely submerged. You couldn’t help the laugh that tore from you at the sight, but it quickly tapered into an alarmed scream as he burst back to the surface, absolutely drenched, and sent you a murderous look.

You’d been intending to get in right after him, but perhaps it would be more prudent to run while you still could—

“You little—” Jimin’s sputtered words were all the warning you got before he launched towards you, tearing through the water and up the shore much, much faster than you had ever anticipated. You yelped, spinning on your heel and scrambling across the pebbles, stumbling in your attempts to flee before he reached you. Of course, as you knew from the second he locked eyes on you after exiting the water, you hadn’t stood a chance of getting away; you would never be a match for his sheer speed and strength. You barely got three steps in before two strong hands snapped around the small of your waist, water seeping into your shirt where his fingers pressed into the material.

“You are such a pain,” he chastised, twisting you and throwing you over his shoulder so quickly that it almost made you dizzy.

“Aw, come on, it was an accident! I’m sorry!” you lied through your teeth, scrabbling for a grip on the drenched shirt that was sticking to his every line and curve like a second skin. “Let’s be rational about this—”

Smack!

You yelped, back curving slightly as your hand flew to your ass in shock, the likes of which was now smarting as a result of the firm smack he’d just delivered. Your entire face flushed with heat, brain flatlining as the raven-haired alien carried you back towards the lake; the sight of the grass growing further and further away, along with your chances of survival, was very condemning.

“Be quiet and accept the consequences of your actions like a good girl, petal,” Jimin said, voice so low and raspy it was almost a purr; you couldn’t see his marks from this angle but you were dying to know what colour flushed across them when he said that. You felt your stomach drop and butterflies swarm to replace it, giddy anticipation tingling up your spine. You didn’t know if you were in a place emotionally where you could deal with being this horny right now.

You made one last attempt at pleading for mercy, “I didn’t know that you’d fall in! I thought you had more balance than that! It’s not my fault youAAAH—”

Evidently, Jimin was not in a merciful mood. He didn’t even wait for you to finish talking when he reached mid-shin in the water and promptly threw you from his shoulder and into the depths. It happened so quickly you could do little more than yelp before the water cut you off and you were sinking below the surface, the lake so cool against your overheated skin that you almost let out a blissful sigh before catching yourself just in time. Your feet found the smooth, pebbled bottom and you propelled yourself back up, breaking the surface with an affronted gasp. “Hey! That was rude! Do we even know how dirty the water is?”

At this point you were just being annoying, but he simply rolled his eyes before trapping your own in his gaze, the heat contained in the dark pools making you shudder. He began moving towards you, striding back into the lake like a predator, so smoothly that the most the water did in response to his entrance was ripple around his legs. “It’s not dirty,” he informed you, a sly look crossing his features for the barest second. “There is a certain type of algae in here that means it is self cleaning—actually, the algae is part of the reason why the pippura vines grow here.”

You launched yourself backwards as he grew closer, spouting off little tidbits of information like he wasn’t currently in the process of cornering you in the lake; your arms couldn’t seem to propel you fast enough, because each second you spent splashing about frantically he gained on you. By the time he was about a metre away from you, the water was up to his ribs and he looked like he was preparing to pounce. So, you did the only logical thing you could think of in that moment, and used your legs to kick a massive splash of water in his face.

It smacked him dead on, drenching his hair once more and making him sputter, hands coming up to wipe water out of his eyes. His marks shifted rapidly, from rose to teal to petal pink and then back again. You didn’t know what it meant, but you knew your time was running out.

“y/n,” he said, voice low as he flicked water from his face and levelled you with a heated look, lashes wet and sticking together. “Didn’t I just tell you to be a good girl?”

His words made your stomach flip and a shiver roll down your spine, and yet you were too proud to let it show. Instead, you offered him an innocent expression and a flippant, “Oops?”

That seemed to set him off.

You spent the next few minutes cackling as he attempted to grab you, apparently much less graceful in the water with slippery pebbles beneath his feet than he was on land. Something about games with a chase, like tag, just made your blood sing— and from the glimpse you got of his lively expression as he tailed you through the water, the feeling was mutual. You didn’t know how long you managed to evade him before he caught you, but it was long enough that your pride remained safe by the time his hands landed on your shoulders and you were promptly dunked beneath the surface. When you returned for air, you splashed him for cover and made a break for it once more. Fun, it was so much fun it felt like you were floating in your elation.

Every time you would just barely manage to slip from his grasp with a mad giggle, you’d hear a laugh of his own tumble into the air, the sound downright melodic and so decadent against your ears you immediately did everything you could to hear it again. This was a side of him that you’d hand to wrangle out with your bare hands, but damn if it wasn’t worth it to see the way his eyes shone and disappeared into crescents with his smile.

Of course, though you were incredibly gifted in many areas (not to toot your own magnificent horn) stamina sadly wasn’t one of them. Jimin might have been engineered for speed, agility and athletic grace, but you most definitely weren’t. It was only a matter of time before you grew too tired to continue fleeing as well as you had been up until that point.

“I give up! I surrender!” you announced, proceeding to flop backwards and float, almost panting. The water had cooled you down greatly but it was still a warm night and Jimin was unfairly fast. You’d been kept on your toes the whole time.

“I am surprised that you lasted so long,” he mused, sinking down in the water until it was up to his neck. The mirth had yet to fade from his eyes, his marks still glowing an exuberant teal that fluctuated between bright green and cyan.

“I’m full of surprises,” you informed him, still somewhat breathless. You shifted from your floating position, treading water lazily as you leaned back and sent him a cheeky look. You just needed a moment to recharge, then you’d be giving him a run for his money once more.

Jimin hummed, breaking the hold he had on your gaze for a moment to glance up at the sky; your breath caught in your throat at how beautiful he was in that moment, raven hair an unruly mess and water still dripping down his skin, freckles luminous and the entirety of his form bathed in the kind of moonlight that made him seem ethereal. You snapped out of it a second later, propelling yourself slightly behind him so he wouldn’t catch you slipping if he happened to look down.

You’d only meant to hide your face and the current heated nature of your cheeks from him, but as you floated behind him your goblin brain, of course, came up with another idea that would rile him up. You weren’t sure if you should enact it so soon, when you hadn’t even caught your breath completely yet, but you were also aware that he wasn’t going to be distracted much longer, especially when it was you in his company. By this point he’d learnt the hard way to keep his eye on you.

Twisting your body in the water smoothly so that your feet braced against the bottom once more, you prepared to jump. You needed to get a good grip, or else he would throw you off too easily and that would be nowhere near as fun.

Throughout the whole time you were plotting that move, you forgot completely about what lined the skin of his lower back— you were soon to be reminded, however, when you proceeded to pounce on him from behind and he stiffened immediately in your hold.

Your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms around his neck, but he was more slippery than you accounted for and you had to fight to keep your grip. This, of course, meant that you were pressed that much tighter against his back.

“You—” he seemed at a loss for words for the briefest moment, stuttering slightly as his hands whipped to your thighs.

“Boo!” you announced belatedly with a ruffle of his hair, even as you felt your grip begin to slip. Well, it seemed it was time to cut your losses and jump back into the water— you were completely prepared to do so, until he twisted slightly beneath you and you slipped prematurely.

Having expected to fall back into the water, you were surprised when Jimin managed to turn in your grip and scoop you into his hold, saving you from an abrupt reunion with the surface of the lake. It didn’t do much for the state of your heart, however, when you realised that now you were clinging to his front, legs around his waist and his hands supporting you at your ass and thigh. Uncharacteristically— or rather, quite characteristically since this was Jimin you were dealing with— you were at a loss for words, reduced to simply blinking at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly ajar in shock.

If the position alone hadn’t been enough to send your heart racing, then the way he was looking at you would have definitely finished the job. His marks were flushed deep, dark rose, and his eyes were so intense as they bore into you that you felt goosebumps raise across your skin. You felt oddly… vulnerable, for a moment, but you didn’t have time to ponder that realisation before his lips were quirking slightly in something like triumph.

“You are full of surprises,” he agreed, head tilting slightly; water lapped lightly at your skin and it took you a moment to realise he was moving towards the cliff, near the cluster of large, obsidian rocks that skirt the edge of the waterfall. “But you are also very predictable, petal. You pulled the same move twice.”

Huh, well. Maybe you did! What’s it to him?! You opened your mouth to express just that, but all that came out was a squeak when his hand shifted its place on your thigh and slipped through the slit in your pants, palm cool against your heated skin. For a moment you forgot how to breathe— this was just like what you told Seokjin. Going from nothing to a lot of something, just wasn’t a situation you were equipped to handle!

“Oh,” you managed to say, finally. He seemed amused at your fluster, and you were willing to bet that he was probably enjoying the way the tables had turned since you’d first arrived here. Cocky of him, but hot nonetheless. You just called it as you saw it. “Well, maybe this was my plan all along, and you played right into it. Victory goes to me, peach cheeks.”

His brows rose, apparently thinking it very bold of you to be bringing back that pet name when it was you currently at his mercy, as much as you might have currently been trying to make it seem otherwise.

“Your plan, or mine?” he asked softly, holding your gaze as he halted and you felt cool rock press against your back. You shivered, unable to help it, and he let out a pleased hum. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it most definitely wasn’t for him to rock his hips forward, grinding against you and pinning you to the rock all at once. The gasping noise that came out of you was kind of embarrassing, but he didn’t seem to think so.

Once more, he had you at a loss for words as you attempted to process his utterance amongst the pleasant, heady sensations burning through you. It didn’t help your ability to think either, when his hand slipped from your thigh to trail up your side; with bated breath, you felt it as he dragged his fingertips over your ribs, skirting the underside of your chest before dancing up your sternum, where your neckline ended and his fingers met your skin. It wasn’t all that much, but the action alone had been enough to leave a trail of gooseflesh in its wake. When his gaze flicked down momentarily, you were slightly embarrassed to see that his wandering hand had also elicited another unwitting reaction from you, your nipples standing beneath the material of your shirt. Wearing a bra tonight would have been prudent, but you hadn’t exactly accounted for this, had you?

This felt surreal, almost. For however long and loudly and explicitly you had expressed your desire for him, for some reason you hadn’t ever counted on being in this position. It was almost like you had to acclimatise yourself to it, but you didn’t have time to ease yourself into the scalding heat of his touch and the sinful burn of his gaze against your skin. You had been fully immersed and molten desire was devouring you whole.

His fingertips had remained at your sternum, but his gaze flicked along the column of your neck and it wasn’t long before his hand followed suit. Over your collarbones, the dip of your shoulder where it met your neck, and then up the column of your throat. His touch was gentle as his thumb settled under your chin, fingers slipping into the hair at the back of your neck, and ever so slowly he tilted your head backwards so the expanse of your neck was bared to him.

Your gaze now centered on the stars, your breath hitched when a hum drifted through the air and he nosed along your neck, the occasional brush of his lips against your skin eliciting shiver after shiver. Of course he would enjoy toying with you, not that you could blame him.

He didn’t make you wait all that long, though, before his pillowy lips finally pressed to your skin over your pulse, soft and silken as a petal. You didn’t doubt he could feel, if not hear, the way your heart was racing right now.

“Always so bold,” he murmured, pressing his lips directly over your throat, and then to your collarbones. You could barely breathe, feeling dizzy from just his proximity alone. “But you’re awfully quiet now, petal.”

“Can you blame me?” you said, eyes fluttering closed as you felt his tongue brush against your skin. “I’m only— only one woman—”

Your ability to speak ceased completely when his teeth made an appearance, scraping ever so tantalisingly against the junction of your neck and shoulder. He hummed against you, pulling back a moment later.

“Look at me.”

With his grip beneath your chin eased, you tilted your head back somewhat dizzily, head a little hazier than before.

“I want you to answer me seriously when I ask these,” he said, and there was no room in his tone for any of your usual cheeky behaviour. You nodded obediently, holding his gaze and watching as his marks shifted colours hypnotically.

“Do you want to feel me?”

He rolled his hips, a prominent bulge grinding against your core and making your nerves tingle to life as he did so. You nodded, breath catching and your hands coming to grip his arms.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

His hand drifted from your throat to your shoulder, finger slipping beneath the strap of your shirt and waiting. You nodded, more fervour in the movement this time, and slowly, oh so slowly, he dragged the strap of your singlet down over your shoulder. He seemed to be attempting to hold himself together too as he continued the movement and pulled the rest of your shirt with the strap, peeling it from your chest until it slipped beneath the curve of your breast and bared it to his gaze.

Almost with a sense of reverence, the back of his fingers brushed along the swell of your breast, forefinger coming to trace around your areola before his thumb finally shifted and swept across your hardened nipple. You had all the time in the world to prepare for it, and still you were unable to help the sharp mewl you let out in response, heat flushing across your face and chest. Jimin’s dark eyes flicked back up to your own, lips parted ever so slightly as though in awe. Idly, his thumb continued rolling your nipple, the sensations making your thighs clench in their grip around his waist; instinctively, his hips rocked into your own, and you registered in the back of your mind that something smooth was brushing against your feet.

The two of you had drawn closer without even realising, his eyes hooded slightly as they bore into your own from beneath damp lashes.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

For a moment, your heart stopped. This time you didn’t nod, the whisper escaping you of its own accord. “Yes.”

He didn’t need any more confirmation beyond that. Before you could blink he was dipping forward, fingers digging into your ass for a better grip as his lips finally met your own and the heat swallowed you whole.

When his mouth moved against yours, lips just as plush and pillowy as you’d dreamed, it was as though something shifted, snapped into place within you. There had never been an absence or a void inside you, and yet the second his lips caught your own in a kiss, it was like something had returned home. Like your insides before had been messy and muddled, and he had brought clarity and order and everything had fallen into place.

You sank into each other like clockwork, every move of his lips and tongue against your own all but stealing the breath straight from your lungs. So inebriated in the touch, smell, taste of him were you that you hardly batted an eye at the sensation of something thick and firm curling around your ankles and up your legs.

Suddenly emboldened, you nipped his bottom lip with your teeth, before sucking it into your mouth; the groan that escaped him in response was guttural and low, hips rocking into your own roughly. He only let you play for a moment, though, before he was reclaiming control of the kiss and the situation in one go.

“So eager,” he gasped a moan when he broke from your mouth to suckle along your jaw. “The smell of your desire is so strong, petal— intoxicating…”

You should have been embarrassed to discover he could smell your arousal, but at this point you were beyond shame. He nipped and sucked along the column of your throat, each one wringing out a new, special noise from you just for him. You forgot to keep track of the rest of him until you suddenly felt his hand shift, fingers toying along the waistband of your pants.

“I’ll give you what you want…”

In the next moment his grip had shifted and he was lifting you up with ease, placing you onto the surface of a rock just to the side; from this position your hips were at the same height as his shoulders. He wasted no time adjusting his position, moving closer and slipping your pants down in such a fluid movement that you were reeling for moments after. You felt no shame in being almost completely bare before him, not when he was slipping your thigh over his shoulder and easing forward, looking at you as though mesmerised by what he saw. It was a heady look that swirled in his eyes, molten and promising. As he moved closer he rose slightly, almost hovering over you and pushing your leg back to your chest.

His mouth parted, words on the tip of his tongue but unable to pass as he simply drank you in. The fingers of his free hand came to trail up your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as it did so. The look Jimin then gave you was full of such heat that you almost felt lightheaded; the sensation of being completely at his mercy was absolutely intoxicating.

“So wet,” he murmured, pushing his finger a little deeper between your lower lips and making your hips cant up slightly. It was like he was no longer even aware of the words tumbling from his mouth. “So pretty… I wonder how well you would….”

You weren’t left wondering what he could have meant for long; in the next second he was pushing a thick finger to brush your entrance; the anticipation alone was almost too much for you, more arousal gushing forth to greet his inquisitive touch.

“Jimin,” you gasped as his thumb brushed your clit by accident, the noise making him double back and go again. “P-please…”

He met your eyes, and for a moment you thought he might have made you ask for it, might have made you beg, but to your surprise a small smile slipped onto his lips and, without a word, he pushed his finger completely into you.

Of course you were so absolutely turned on by this point that there wasn’t a stretch, but the sensation alone of being filled, even a little, was so delicious that you didn’t even have the presence of mind to try and squash the abrupt, keening moan that escaped you. You hadn’t realised how much you’d ached to have something inside you before now, clenching around even a single finger like a wanton whore.

Jimin swore in his native tongue, groaning at the tightness you offered. He pumped once, twice, finger a torturous drag against your walls as he did so until he added a second finger and was rewarded with more unwitting noises from you.

“Fuck!” You gasped as his fingers curled, searching for something along your walls that it didn’t take him long to find. He seemed all too pleased to have found your sensitive spot, and that knowledge in combination with the way he began working his thumb over your clit as he pumped his fingers into you was what ultimately spelt your doom.

“Does it feel good, petal?” he asked, breathless. When you nodded, he rewarded you with a third finger— the noise you let out in response was positively sinful. Pleasure thrummed along your limbs, burning beneath your skin and turning your bones to magma. So much pleasure throbbed in your core at his slow, purposeful strokes that you felt like you were going to lose your mind.

And then he decided he wanted to pick up the pace.

Your hands scrambled for purchase as he began to fuck his fingers up into you in earnest, each pump slamming into you and ending with his fingers curling into your g-spot and making colours explode behind your eyelids. You didn’t realise your eyes had closed until you felt something soft brush your chest and they shot open— only to flutter closed once more in the next second as Jimin’s lips wrapped around your pebbled nipple and he sucked it roughly into his mouth.

“Jimin—!” The words caught in your throat, “F-fuck, please d-don’t— don’t stop—”

Jimin’s fingers weren’t long, but they were thick, and the sensation of them dragging against your walls again and again and again was absolutely heavenly— but the way he stimulated your g-spot with each roll of his wrist drove you absolutely mad. You weren’t one to usually reach your end all that quickly, but already at his ministrations there was a ball of tension forming in your stomach, more and more ready to snap with each sharp jolt of pleasure to your core.

Jimin trapped your nipple between his teeth, tugging it lightly before releasing it and moving his mouth to your ear. “Let go for me, petal. I want to feel you unravel around me.”

A low, heady murmur dripping with desire and promise. He returned his mouth to your chest, and you didn’t even have time to tell him you were close before he hit the final nail into your coffin.

While he’d been maintaining long, precise strokes before now, he suddenly shifted tactics. Within the blink of an eye he began fucking his fingers into you that much harder, that much faster— but it was the combination of his fingers pressing into your g-spot and his thumb rolling your clit that sent you well and truly over the edge.

The coil within you snapped and you gasped out his name in a lilting moan as your orgasm burst forth and you came hard, pussy clenching around his fingers like a vice as your back arched off the rock in the woes of your pleasure. Even so, he continued to fuck his fingers into you as you rode out your high, only stopping when you placed a trembling hand against his chest and tried to squirm away from overstimulation.

It took a moment for you to come back to your senses somewhat, gaze centering back on Jimin; you were surprised to see droplets glistening along his arm and across the damp silken material of his shirt, but quickly realised with heated cheeks that he’d actually made you squirt. He didn’t seem to mind; if anything, he seemed to approve, expression strained as he gazed over the mess you’d made of him.

As he gently slipped your thigh from his shoulder and set it down, giving you a quick rinse with the water before slipping your pants back down, your ability to speak finally began to return to you.

“H-holy fuck…” you murmured, slipping from the rock and back into the water as soon as your pants were back on. It might have been a mistake to move so fast, though, because your legs were jelly and you almost dipped beneath the surface were it not for Jimin’s hands coming to brace you. You fixed your top as you looked at him, taking in the tension riddling his firm and the shadows swirling in the water behind him— now, of course, you recalled a certain predicament that affected him. You read the heat and desire still burning in his gaze and moved forward, slipping your hands to his waist. “Now, to return the favour—”

To your surprise, the alien halted your movements, shaking his head. Your confusion was only increased when a light smile slipped onto his lips. He closed his eyes a moment, taking a deep breath, and you caught it from the corner of your eye as the shifting shadows in the water behind him began to still and slip out of sight.

“It’s okay, I will be fine,” he assured you, tone soft and just as airy and mellifluous as ever. “We should really be getting back.”

“Oh… ok.” For the third time that night, you were rendered speechless. Except this time, it was out of sheer confusion. He placed a hand on your back, guiding you from the lace and back up to where you’d left your baskets; thankfully, a part of you reflected as you emerged from the water, the material of your pants was comfortable and unlikely to chafe even while dripping with water.

As you retrieved your baskets, Jimin offered you a somewhat strained smile, before tilting his head in the direction of the castle. “Let’s go, petal.”

And then he turned and simply began on his way back, leaving you to follow and trail behind him distractedly. Something twinged behind the protection of your ribcage, replaced only by a sinking sensation that settled and weighed down your stomach and didn’t leave for the entire duration of your trip back to the palace.

The high you’d felt earlier was quick to fade in the wake of Jimin’s odd behaviour. He’d literally just fingered you to completion, you should be euphoric right now. And yet… for some reason, it felt as though something had been carved out of your gut and left a gaping hole in its wake. He wasn’t even being mean— hell, he’d smiled at you! Twice! So why did you suddenly feel so...down?

You struggled to entertain a plausible reason for Jimin’s odd behaviour, but you were coming up dangerously blank. In the wake of it all, you couldn’t stop the self-destructive thoughts you usually fought off so well from slipping in amongst your thoughts.

Had he done it just to get you off his case? Had he just been… humouring you?

The thought of it made you feel sick.

The trek back to the palace passed in the blink of an eye, and before you knew it Jimin was easing the basket from your grasp and you were in front of your door. The walk had dried you off enough that now the only true reminder of what had happened in the lake was the current damp and unruly state of his hair and the way his marks had been stained dark maroon ever since leaving the clearing.

“Thank you for your help,” he murmured, drawing your gaze to his own at the sound of his voice. “Go and get some rest, petal.”

With that, he leant forward and pressed a soft kiss, the barest brush of his lips, against your temple. Your heart suddenly hung heavy in your chest, stomach wringing in tumult. You watched him pull back and begin to move away, words caught in your throat.

“Goodnight.”

He was gone before you managed to say it back, disappearing into the darkness of the hall like a shadow returning to the night.

Returning to your own room had you vulnerable, the walls a chamber for your sudden loneliness to echo back and hit you in the face. You tried to brush the feelings aside; it was fine. You were tired and overthinking it, reading too much into the little things.

After all, if he didn’t like you then he wouldn’t have kissed you on the forehead.

...Right?

a/n: as always i hope u enjoyed,, tysm for waiting so long and for reading!!! lmk what u think and whether u enjoyed with a like or rb,, it helps keep me going lol. thank u i love u!!! <3

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#jimin smut #bts smut #jimin x reader #bts au #bts series #jimin series #alien au #alien jimin #alien jimin x reader #jimin x reader smut #tentacledipity #my work #wanted au #space au #tentacle smut #fun right #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Bunny Boy (JJK x Reader)☁️⚠️🔪(💜)🔞 Part 2

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU, Stalker!AU, questionable romance, smut, Oneshot

Warnings: (oh boy) Stalking, Obsession, Yandere themes, cute Koo but aggressive, he ready to fight, graphic description of violence, blood, very twisted JK, oblivious! Reader, kinda Stockholm-syndrome Reader?, soft romantic lovemaking, body worship, Dom! Jungkook, Sub! Reader, Handjob (fem. receiving), oral (fem. receiving), protected sex because even with your mind scrambled up in a frying pan we still wrap it before tapping it y’all hear me STDs ain’t cute Susan

Summary: It all started with a hello kitty charm.

A/N:(IMPORTANT) I’d like to note here that I do not condone nor romanticize any of the things depicted in this. This is purely fictional, and only to be seen as a work of art, not as a depiction of real life relationships. For short: if he a creep, kick his balls, don’t kiss. Thank you.

Part 1 || Part 2

The nurse opened the door, and past her dashed the young man in Question, a total opposite of what he looked like the night he'd found you. His clothing was disheveled, eyes and nose red, his hair a mess as he immediately fell onto your chest, crying so hard his shoulders shook, nurse watching him with sympathizing eyes. This didn't make sense. Why did you feel your body tense up at his touch, when he was so upset?

You shuddered as the memory of his eyes, as cold as the night you'd drove your car into the tree to keep yourself from endangering anyone else on your way suddenly pushed itself in front of you. You couldn't understand it.

What did that mean? Had it been a dream?

Why would your brain make up something so dark about Jungkook?

"Angel? Are you okay? God no, you're not, you're in a hospital, I-" He said, and the nurse softly pushed him aside a bit to look at your vitals, reassuring him that you were fine, apart from a broken leg and a few bruises and scratches. As she left you both alone, he sat down at your bedside, hands gently patting your head with still teary eyes. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, and your eyes widened.

Could it really be?

"I'm sorry I couldn't get to you faster. If I'd known something like that was about to happen.." He said, gaze falling to your hand, needle still stuck into the vein on the back of it to give you medication. His heart genuinely hurt at the sight, but he knew this was a small price to pay for your eternal safety next to him, right at his side. He would keep you safe, he just needed to show you what could happen. This had been necessary. It was a white lie.

Yet he could sense something was off about you. He'd thought you'd be more upset about the event, yet there you were, simply staring at him. Maybe you'd hit your head- maybe he'd miscalculated something and-

"Jungkookie.." You asked, voice hoarse, yet absolute music to his ear. He leaned in closer, humming a reply to urge you to continue.

"Did you.. pull me out of the car?" You asked, and his eyes widened a bit, smile faltering a few seconds.

How did you know that?

There was no way you had been awake when he'd arrived, and even if so, you'd hit your head quite hard on your steering wheel- you weren't supposed to remember anything. He really did miscalculate. Sure, maybe you meant it differently, but he knew you like his own self. He knew what you meant, and he felt himself tense a bit as he suddenly looked at you completely differently.

"J..Jungkoo-" You started, and Jungkook suddenly shifted, leaning over your body with his hands on either side of your head, his own dipping down a bit, eyes never leaving yours. They suddenly teared up again.

"You don't listen." He said, and you looked at him questioningly. "I told you again and again it's dangerous to drive, yet you-!" He said, voice raising a bit, before he forced himself to calm down, eyes closing as he deflated, forehead resting just below your collarbone. "I needed to- I needed to show you how dangerous it could be, I just want to keep you safe angel, I just need to know you'll never get hurt-" He said, hands gripping the fabric of the hospital gown you wore, desperate to hold onto something.

You simply stared ahead.

It felt weird, knowing that he had everything to do with your situation. It explained how calm he'd been at the scene, how fast he'd arrived, how he knew where you were immediately without asking.

"Miss?" A male voice said, making Jungkook raise from your body, eyes suddenly getting an angry glint at the young officer stepping into the room. It was as if he was a cat having claimed its human, now getting angry at the prospect of someone else wanting your attention. Yet he hesitantly sat down again, keeping his hands on yours however, as a sign of ownership, maybe.

You couldn't tell what it was, anymore.

"We have questions regarding the accident. It won't take long, since you're partner right here has already answered most questions." The young man said, standing a bit closer to you as you nodded. "We just want you to clarify some things. Mr.Jeon over here said you were on the phone, telling him the breaks weren't working. Correct?" You nodded, feeling Jungkooks thumb circle over your fingers softly. "He also said you willingly drove into the woods to stop the car. Correct?" Again, you confirmed. "Why?" He asked, and you cleared your throat before answering.

"I.. didn't want to put anyone else in danger, officer." You replied, and he nodded, taking notes.

"Okay. Jeon Also stated that he'd found you inside your car, and broke open the door to get you out." He stated, and you swallowed as Jungkooks thumb stopped. "Have you any recollection of that?" He asked, and you blinked once, twice.

Shaking your head.

Jungkook visited you every day.

He sometimes smuggled in junk food and other treats you didn't get inside the hospital to lift your mood, and you didn't knew when it happened.

But you started to fall back into place with him.

It was as if nothing major had happened, seeing him happily munch away on his fries while making sure you didn't stain the crisp hospital sheets, making sure not to leave any evidence of the delicious crime he brought into your room every now and then. He was acting completely normal, just like your Jungkook.

Things began to feel normal.

"You know.." He started, as he opened the packaging of the straw belonging to your strawberry shake he'd bought. "I'm glad you understood." He said, and you nodded. Others may didn't, but you had collected so many thoughts and reasons that his actions seemed.. reasonable in your opinion.

He was right after all, you were someone who didn't believe something would hurt you until it did. You always seemed to need actual evidence to believe in bad things, even as a child. Whenever your mother told you not to run, you did it anyways, just to scrape your knee shortly afterwards.

You never ran away from her hand afterwards.

It seemed to be the same with Jungkook now. "I'll drive you wherever you need to go, okay?" He said, giving you your small plastic cup, that you gladly took from him. You nodded, understanding. His heart swelled.

He knew you'd understand.

The diner was busy, too busy in your opinion.

Ever since getting released from the hospital, Jungkook had agreed on leaving you with your own freedom to go wherever you wanted to; if it was too far however, he insisted that he'd drive you.

You agreed on that.

He was just concerned for your well-being.

“What I’m saying is, not to be rude, but he’s kinda creepy.” Your friend said at the table, munching away on her fries. You looked at her like she was the crazy one, feeling a bit offended at her words. You knew she had a point somewhere, but this was your Jungkookie, he was just a bit more touchy and clingy then others- she just didn’t understand. Maybe she was just still bitter about being dumped by her ex; even though you doubted that, since she’d said before that she was over him. He’d been a douchebag anyways, you’d seen that way before she’d done.

“You don’t know him..” you mumbled, sucking on the straw of your strawberry milkshake until the icy cold drink reached your tongue. She scoffed, before she reached for your hand. You went confused at her touch, suddenly feeling as if you needed to take yours away from her. The feeling got so present that you actually did, slowly distancing yourself as you packed up the leftovers of your fast food dinner with her. “I think I should leave..” you said, until she stopped you by grabbing the hem of your coat. “Please don’t do that-“ you attempted to get her fingers off of the fabric out of instinct.

“I’m worried about you y/n, I feel like he’s not good for you-“ she whined, her face drenched in worry. You knew the words she said were true, but they didn’t hurt any less because of that. Why couldn’t she just let you be happy? He made you happy. He made you feel safe, and comfortable, and loved, why couldn’t she just be glad that you had someone who cared about you? “What if he’s just using you, maybe he just wants se- y/n!” She yelled after you, but you’ve already left the restaurant, tears already knocking behind your eyes to be released. You were so confused. You loved Jungkook. He loved you too.

Right?

It had to be that way. He'd been the first one to make you feel genuinely safe, keeping a hold on you that didn't feel suffocating or controlling- his hands were so gentle to you, that you happily let him lead you wherever he wanted. You grabbed your phone out of your pocket, dialing his number. "Jungkookie.. can you pick me up?" You said, and he agreed instantly.

He'd never make you wait.

"Why can we never hang out at your place Jungkookie?" You answered, your upper body laying on his chest, his hand running through your hair like he was petting a cat, loving glint in his eyes wavering a bit.

"It's messy angel, I don't want you between all that junk." He hummed, making you pout. It was cute, yet he feared that once you saw how he typically spending his time away from you, he could scare you away for good. He'd just barely escaped a disaster at the hospital- he couldn't take chances.

"Hm.." You mumbled, leaning your head to the side a bit, hand playing with the silver necklace around his neck. His eyes closed a bit at the view, as his hand ran lower, now caressing your shoulder. He shuddered at the way your fingers brushed over his neck, now growing hyper aware of your position on him. It would be so easy to just.. take you right now. He knew he could overpower you without much effort- but that wasn't what he craved.

He needed you to need him just as much.

"Jungkookie?" You asked, and he hummed a reply. "Why won't you have sex with me?" You asked, making his eyes rip open as wide as the moon.

He had to think for a moment, unknowing how to answer you. Was there a right answer? It wasn't that he didn't want to- he just.. couldn't. Not yet. "I.. don't want you to do something you don't want to, angel." He said lowly, and you suddenly changed position, straddling him with an innocent face. He could feel himself rise in his pants, unable to control it. How could someone blame him? His soulmate was posing on top of him, her center right above his tip, unconsciously putting pressure on his most sensitive parts. How could he not let himself be swept away?

"It's okay, I want to." You said, although nervous. "I.. you know.. Haven't done it before but.." You began to grow shy, spurring his inner demon on even more. "I trust you." You said, and he groaned, holding your hips in his hands to steady you.

He turned you both over, face leaning close to you, lips almost brushing against each other as he spoke. "It may hurt angel." He said, and you simply nodded, accepting that. "You may bleed." He said, and again, you simply nodded, swallowing as you began to chase his lips, growing frustrated with him escaping you by mere inches. "We don't have protection." He said, and this time you deflated. He was right.

Or was he?

You remembered the last birthday party, where your friend had gifted you a lovetoy and condoms as a joke, a present you never used to this day. Your eyes widened. "I do!" You said, and he leaned his head to the side questioningly. "There's uh.. there's a box, right there on top of my dresser. I got it as a present but.. I never had the need to, you know.." You mumbled, and he got up, walking up to the said dresser and taking down the pink still half wrapped box you told him to.

He opened the lid of the box, and after a bit of searching through some crampled up wrapping paper he found what he'd been looking for.

He could work with that.

Simply putting the box down, and pulling his own shirt over his head, he crawled back over you, your gaze ever so shy. "I'll be gentle, angel." He promised before finally kissing you, hungry lips leaving you breathless as he stole away all of your hesitation like a vampire their unknown victims' blood. Yet he was very much human, even if people would probably deny that if they knew what he'd done.

He did it all for you, and he'd do it all again.

His hands roamed, flat palms simply caressing your body as if he was mapping out what you looked like without his eyes, finally able to touch and feel you underneath him, squirming and moving around impatiently like prey trying escape. He was the wolf devouring you like his last meal on earth, tongue opening your lips for him to explore, soft sighs mixing between the sounds of your lips, and the soft moving of fabric as he pulled the sweater you wore over your head, finally getting a view of your body up close and personal; no interference could break his dream apart now, everything very much real and actually happening.

You whined a bit as he brought his hand underneath the shell of your bra, eagerly getting acquainted with the feel of your mounds underneath his hands, as he worked on the hooks on your back, getting rid of the undergarment as fast as he could. He dipped his head down, kissing the velvety skin, biting teasingly as you gasped, making him smile knowingly.

This was more than he'd ever imagined.

His tongue grazed your nipple, making you mewl deliciously as his other hand made work of your shorts, pulling them down together with your already ruined underwear, making him sit back as he finally saw your center exposed for him, his hands pulling your legs apart to watch how the inside of your thighs already glistened with moisture, making him groan out a bit, his own pants suddenly feeling too tight. He quickly got rid of the fabric restricting him, making you try and close your legs at the view of his length standing proudly as he ran his hand over it a few times to release some of the pressure at least. "Keep them nice and open for me, yeah angel?" He mused, voice unrecognizably rough around the edges, making your spine tingle.

His hand cupped your heat, giving you the chance to pick your own pace as he praised you without breaking eye contact. "You look so divine angel, so beautiful.." He hummed, as he felt you rut into his hand so sinfully he couldn't help but snatch a taste as he instead switched his hand for his own mouth, tongue working relentlessly on your nerves while your legs quivered, depending on his hands to keep them in place. The sounds you made were absolute pleasure to his ears and soul, all just for him and him alone.

He would keep it that way.

He felt your walls flutter as his first two fingers entered you, having to push a bit against your thighs to keep you from moving too much at the foreign feeling, yet he couldn't keep himself from smiling as he moved away from you, snatching your first orgasm away from you just inches away from the edge it seemed.

"You're gonna come on my cock and nothing else angel." He growled, opening the foil package to wrap the protection over his length, slowly entering his tip inside you, making your body move away a bit. "shh, we'll go slow yeah?" He promised as he hovered over you like a demon ready to inhale your soul. His kisses painted the side of your neck as he slowly pushed, feeling you tense up at the unfamiliar feeling. "Relax.. it's only gonna hurt if you fight it angel.." He hushed, and your hands reached for his, making his heart swell as he took your smaller ones into his, interlacing your fingers. "Hmhm, that's it angel, let me inside, yeah?" He hummed against your pulse as he'd finally settled inside you, staying there for a moment before carefully backing out. The first few motions hurt and felt weird, yet the more he moved, the more you could feel the infamous pleasure building up.

Gasping a little you chanted his name under your breath, voice so fragile it was barely present as it escaped you, making him pick up his pace a bit, feeling euphoric as the realization hit him head first. This was truly happening, he was finally making you his, he was the first and only one to ever corrupt you and let you drown in sinful pleasures such as this-

You were finally his.

His breathing had calmed down as well as yours, as you came back to earth. His hand paced back and forth over the expanse of your arm, as your thoughts stayed empty for the moment, simply accepting the warmth of his body, before you finally caught onto an actual thought.

"Jungkookie?" You asked sleepily, as he looked at you, wrapped in blankets on his chest. "Why can't I visit your place?" You asked again for the second time that day. He hummed, before he replied.

"There are things you aren't yet ready for angel." He said, for once speaking nothing but the truth. "I fear you'll think of me badly if you knew." He said, and his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek as he fell deep into thoughts. You shook your head. "Hm?" He asked.

"I love you." You said, and his arms pressed you against him a bit tighter at that. It wasn't the first time you'd said that, but hearing it after being so close together made him feel all fuzzy inside. "I could never hate you, Jungkookie." You mumbled, already falling asleep again. He smiled.

Of course you couldn't.

Because even if you did, it was too late to leave him.

You'd understand.

He knew, because you'd done so in the past as well. This was nothing compared to what he'd done in the past for you, yet it was just as necessary. Looking over the letter you'd received from your parents, his eyes went cold as he took it and placed it into the pocket of his jacket, closing your mailbox, leaving everything else inside. He knew them already, having used past freetime to scout out where they lived, and how they'd treated you during your childhood. The things he'd found out were still making his blood boil.

You were the product of an affair on your mother's side, unwanted, yet born out of pure believe that abortion was against nature. She kept you simply because her husband had forced her to- as a form of punishment for her actions, if you will. She'd treated you just as something alike; a punishment.

Regularly forgetting to pick you up from school or clubs, she was nothing but a complete failure as a mother. Yet you, being the angel you were, still cared deeply for her, enough to accept any half-hearted apology she would throw your way.

It was almost similar to his own upringing, in a way. He had been an unwanted child as well.

Yet his mother had to live through the torture of his own drunk father every day, giving up on protecting him after he'd turned ten years old, leaving him bare to the hands of his intoxicated father, unshielded from the anger or otherwise emotional outbursts of him.

He stopped caring after a while.

Yet when he saw you, so innocent and shy, oblivious to the horrible things going on around you, he felt the need to do a better job his mother had ever done. He needed to protect you from all harm. He couldn't let anything happen to you.

This is why you needed him.

The world around you simply treated you badly because it had the nasty habit of trying to ruin anything that was perfect. And you were absolute perfection, blinding in purity even after his action of deflowering you, sending you to heaven for the blink of a moment just to pull you back down to him again.

Stepping through his door he placed the letter on his kitchen table, adress of them clearly visible.

You'd understand.

You always did.

#bts #bts imagine #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts yandere #bts yandere au #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #yandere bts

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maybe-your-left · 3 years

Text

Window Panes - Forever

We made it!

Here is the Window Panes Masterlist and my Masterlist for all my other fics.

Summary: A cool breeze nipped at your exposed legs, causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin. You were curled into your comforter, comfy and safe, your cheek pressed against your pillow. Lips pursed and a small amount of drool seeping into the fabric. A creak came from the corner of your room, slightly rousing you from your slumber. You glanced around, your drooping eyelids barely taking in the scene. In your sleep riddled state, you didn't see him, his large figure stalking towards you. The whites of his eyes shining in the moonlight, it wasn't until you felt a palm slide up your side. Following the natural contours of your body, the warmth emanating from it lulling you to sleep once again. A dip in the mattress, the springs creaking under the weight.

Hot breath fanned over your neck, soft lips pressing onto the back of your ear. A deep hum filling your senses, you sighed. Cuddling back into the figure, wanting to get closer to the warm entity. A low chuckle sounded behind you, and then...

Nothing.

TW/CW: This is dark shit, like explicitly horrible shit happens in this. However, I enjoy reading dark fics, and I super loved Stalker Clyde by @clumsycopy & was inspired by the oneshot EOS by @thetorturerwrites and I wanted to write something with the sameish tone for Halloween. NSFW, Violence, Murder, Non-con elements, Domestic Violence, Surgery, Explicit sex, oral sex, anal sex, sex toys, miscarriage, mental manipulation, stockholm syndrome, waterboarding, forced feeding, Animal abuse (just a brief mention, I do not go into any detail).

“Is it-Are we rolling?”

“Yeah, we’re rolling.”

“Okay, great,” a sigh of relief.

You shifted in your chair, smoothing back your hair and itching the microphone that was attached to your shirt collar. Crossing and recrossing your legs, you should’ve worn pants, a skirt was a stupid idea with these boots. You gave a weak smile to the woman across from you, her white teeth flashing the cameras all around the sound stage.

“Okay,” she looked into the lens, “We are here tonight with one of the victims of the famous 2020 murder trial from New York. She went through over five years of repeated abuse at the hands of her kidnapper, all while he was out killing people around the city.” She turned to you, nodding her head as a show for you to react to the TV. “It’s so nice to have you here, Miss (Y/N).”

You cleared your throat, shifting once more, “Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.”

“How are you doing?”

You bit back a scoff, what a stupid thing to ask. After that introduction, what was she expecting you to say, ‘oh I’m fucking fantastic, I’ve been running since the day he was sent to prison and going through intense psycho-therapy to rid myself of Stockholm syndrome.’.

“I’m great,” you faked a smile, “Always nice to visit New York again.”

“I’m sure,” she smiled once more, all you could think about were the wrinkles on her face, the crows feet on the corner of her eyes. She must get botox for working at a news station, there’s no way her skin is on with just natural confidence.

“When was the last time you visited?”

You had to stop yourself from blurting out an answer, knowing that this would be on national television. Which you knew federal prisons watched, you wouldn’t want to give away any of your whereabouts since the incident. “Uh-it’s been a few years, I haven’t had much reason to be back. My life has shifted to another part of the world.”

“That’s fantastic! So you’ve been doing well for yourself the past six years?”

“Yeah,” you gave a genuine smile, “It’s been tough, no off days really. Trying to gain some normalcy from it all, but I’ve done well. I live relatively fearless, of everything.”

“We have you here because of a break in your case, as I’m sure you know.”

You gave a grim nod.

It’s all anyone wanted to talk about since the story flashed on the news last week. Leaving your once quiet home filled with reporters. You weren’t even home when it happened, out getting groceries, gripping your sons’ hands firmly as you walked the aisles. Letting him pick out some snacks for his lunchbox, like any mother would, when your phone blew up.

Dozens of messages, calls, articles, you name it.

All with his face plastered on it.

Convicted murderer and kidnapper, Kylo Ren, has requested the death penalty. After being found attempting to escape federal prison for the 6th time in the past five years. The convict claims that he ‘would rather die than live another day rotting in his cell’. Dropping all the appeals cases that his lawyers have been pushing since his initial sentencing.

The former New York state governor was on trial for murderering and disemboweling 9 separate victims and kidnapping an 18-year-old girl. He kept her in his basement as his sex slave for close to 3 years before he married her, the young girl escaping into the streets when she was just 22 years old. Covered from head to toe in gashes, blood, and bruises. Claiming that her husband had beaten her within an inch of her life.

The subsequent trial lasted three months after his arrest. Leading to him being convicted of first-degree murder, rape, and domestic assault. He was sentenced to life in prison, his then-wife was placed under medical care for an undetermined time.

Mr. Ren has tried to get his charges appealed since the initial sentencing, claiming that his wife was mentally insane and an unfit witness. Along with other claims that include bribing members of the jury to change their verdicts. The whereabouts of Mr. Ren’s ex-wife is unknown, but he claims that he has kept tabs on her even from ‘the inside’.

“Your kidnapper is being put on death row, which isn’t allowed in the state of New York. Which means he is being transferred over state lines to another prison. However, it hasn’t been revealed where he is being brought because of people interfering with the swap. How do you feel about that?”

You chewed your cheek, thinking for a moment. There was no way he did this willingly, Ren was never someone to take the easy way out. The last time you heard from him was three years ago, on your son’s birthday.

Receiving a call from the prison, the only one you had gotten since the sentencing.

You remember picking up the phone, throat going dry as you whispered that you accepted the charges. Waiting for the operator to connect you to him, after three long years without his voice.

“Hello, love.”

“What,” you whispered, stepping away from the living room of screaming toddlers. Your boyfriend gave you a weird look when your face went white as a ghost. “What do you want, Ren?”

“How are you? Doing well I hope?”

You huffed, moving into your kitchen and ripping a bottle of wine out of the fridge. Taking a drink as you snarled, “Just tell me what shitty thing you have to say so I can go back to my family.”

“Oh, yes. Your family.” he sighed, “And what a sweet family it is… little Luke is how old now? I would think he would be about… three.”

“How do you know about my son?”

“Hm.”

“I don’t think he’s just yours.”

“You shut your mouth, Luke is not your son. I’m going to hang up if you don’t get to the point.”

“He’s growing up so well. Hairs getting longer, but I know you like to keep it short. But he complained about his ears last time-so big.”

You took a deep breath, peaking into the living room. Just in time to see your baby boy, smiling and laughing with his friends. Sitting in your boyfriends’ lap, tearing into presents. His big eyes shone with tears of joy when he ripped through a gift that was his favorite color, red. A squeal so loud it could’ve shattered a window, pulling out a giant plush toy. It was like a penguin-mixed with a little dog, no nose, and some sharp fangs. From one of his favorite TV shows, along with a card and some other little toys.

“Tell me, love,” he chuckled, “Does he like his present? He sounds over the moon about it through the speaker. What I wouldn’t give to be there to run my fingers through his dark hair, look him in the eyes and tell him how much his father loves him.”

You made Luke sleep in bed with you that night, holding his small body flush with yours. Running your fingers through his curls as he snored into your chest, small tracks of drool seeping into your nightshirt. Trembling as you stared at the shadows, dancing across the bedroom from the window. Full moon shining, you could’ve sworn the floor was creaking downstairs, the sound of footsteps climbing towards your room rang in your ears.

You didn’t sleep that night, staring into your son’s face as he woke. Blinking awake to smile as you, his grin reaching across his face. All the way to his ears, large ears, covered by his almost black waves. His long lashes fluttering as he greeted you, “Hi mama.”

His eyes.

Fuck.

One of them your eye color, shining back at you. But the other, it was his.

Deep auburn, shining in the sunlight. Daring you to challenge him, defy him, prove him wrong, anything that would allow him to unleash whatever hell lived under his skin. Flowed through his blood, tainting every corner of your psyche. His child, the one you hid from the world. Moving as far away as you could, claiming it was your boyfriends’ child.

But he knew.

And Luke was starting to notice.

“I feel,” you looked at your hands, forcing them into fists to stop them from shaking, “Just fine, he’s not in my life anymore. Just a small chapter in the book of my story, I hope that he finds peace. Wherever he goes.”

“Peace? For a man that almost killed you multiple times?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I do. I can’t change who he is, or what he’s done. I can just try as hard as I can to move on. And if being on death row will help him find what he’s looking for then I wish him the best of luck.”

She gave you a weird look, shifting in her seat, “Do you think it says anything about his guilt?”

“Guilt?”

“Yes, for the past six years he has never acknowledged that he was guilty. Claiming that the jury and witnesses were bought and that you were mentally unstable-making up half the accusations against him. Do you think that him asking for the death penalty is a way of admitting that he was guilty?”

“Hell no,” you blurted out, eyes going wide at the camera, “Oh-can I swear? I’m so sorry.”

She laughed you off, “You’re fine, we can blur it out. But you sound so confident? Do you think he believes that he’s done nothing wrong?”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “Not to repeat myself but, hell no. That man knows, he’s very conscious of his decisions. Everything has a purpose, everything is done for a reason, Ren doesn’t waste his energy on doing something for no benefit.”

“What would be the benefit of being put on death row?”

You sighed, thinking about Ren, trying to get into his mindset to see how he could angle the sentencing changing. Letting out a sharp laugh as you rubbed your eyes, “Well-you said it earlier.”

She looked at you confused.

“New York doesn’t have the death penalty.”

New York doesn’t have the death penalty.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, looking around the room frantically. “Oh my god-oh my god-oh my GOD-New York doesn’t have the death penalty!” you screamed, shooting out of the chair. Grasping the reporter by her shoulders and shaking her violently, “He knew! He knew I was coming here! He’s gonna take him!”

“Miss (Y/N),” the reporters and security officers yelled. Trying to calm you down, but no, she had said it.

New York doesn’t have the death penalty.

You ran from the TV station, hailing a cab on the packed streets. Frantically calling your boyfriend over and over, he was at home. Back in Nevada… where the death penalty is legal, with Luke. He wouldn’t pick up, the dial tone ringing three times before his voice sang through the speaker.

You wailed in the back of the cab, calling everyone you knew back at home. Asking if they could go get Luke from school, if they had seen him that day. Anything to try prove false the sick feeling in your stomach you knew was true.

Running through airport security as fast as you could, taking the first flight back home. You prayed on the way that your boyfriend had Luke, safe and sound, back at home. Hopefully, curled in his red blanket, snuggling the stuffed animal he got that faithful birthday.

Even though no one knew where it came from.

Luke wouldn’t let you get rid of it.

Claiming his daddy gave it to him.

You just let him have it, he was three there was no way he would let you take his toy away once he had held it to his chest. Kissing it with his full lips, dragging it around the house every fucking day. It was his best friend, from the moment he saw it.

You cried on the plane, realizing too late that the gift was from him.

His real father.

Watching after his miracle child.

When you touched down in Las Vegas, your phone blew up. Your stomach flipping as you read through the messages from your boyfriend, explaining that he let your friend pick Luke up from school. The same friend claimed that your boyfriend had picked him up, Luke’s teacher calling to let you know someone in a black Porsche picked him up.

Whisking away his child from under your nose.

You choked on your tears as you read the message from his teacher, telling you how happy Luke was when he left. How he ran into your new boyfriend's arms, like he had known him for his entire life. She told you that he had introduced himself, Ben was just the most amazing father figure she had ever met. Stowing away Luke, surrounded by toys and chocolate when she waved them off.

After you gathered your luggage you walked towards the cabs out front. Stopping cold in your tracks when you saw a chauffeur holding a sign that said your old name.

Mrs. Ren.

You climbed in, body feeling numb.

Your phone dinged, a picture being sent to you from an unknown number.

A picture of Luke, held tightly against his real father’s chest. Drifting off to sleep in his strong arms that once choked you to death.

See you at home love, we miss you.

-----

I wanted baby luke to say something like ‘my daddy visits me at night’ but it was too on the nose.

TAGLIST: @finn-ray-nal-beads @millenialcatlady @ohdamnadamm @daydreamsofren @candycanes19 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @millenialcatlady @safarigirlsp @caillea @roanniom @insufferablelust @mrs-zimmerman

#adam driver #adamdriver #kylo ren #kidnapper au #window panes #modern kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #my writing #maybe-your-left #WATCH OUT #daddies here

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after-avenging-hours · 4 years

Text

Out of Time [5]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary: After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 4719

Warnings: none

The next few days seem to pass in a frenzy and before you know it, it’s already Saturday. Steve had asked you in the morning if you wanted to catch a movie with him later and it nearly killed you to have to refuse him. It was hard to miss the look of longing that had developed in his gaze whenever he looked at you ever since the two of you shared that dance. You felt that very same longing down to your very soul.

You would give just about anything to be able to stay here, living in a bubble of bliss. To protect him from all the horrors you know he will face if he fulfills his destiny. But you know you can’t do that. In fact, you have to do quite the opposite. You have to do everything in your power to make sure that it all still happens.

So, you’d started dropping little hints here and there. Trying to encourage him to try for recruitment again. Talking about the war effort and how bad they needed more soldiers. Groaning about how none of the people showing up at the recruitment center are a good fit for the program you work for. You make sure to get it into his head that fighting in the war isn’t about killing the most people in order to win, it’s about stopping bad people from doing even worse things.

By the time you’re walking into the Recruitment Center Saturday morning, all that’s left to do is hang onto that faith like you’re always telling Dr. Erskine. You have to believe that things are going to go right, otherwise, you’re not sure what you’re going to do.

The center is a madhouse all day long, which certainly helps to keep you distracted. The Fair has brought droves of people into the area. Dr. Erskine gives you a pat on the shoulder in passing between interviews and comments that this had been a pretty good idea. You certainly were seeing new faces today. Some good, most… not quite. There were several groups of men coming in with their friends, rowdy from the alcohol provided at the Fair, and boasting about how they were going to be the guy to win the war. Those ones tended to be a little handsy. You may have accidentally broken a few fingers.

When Erskine caught onto what was happening, he’d sent you out to run a perimeter check to give you some space. At that point, night had already fallen. The Fair looked even more magnificent under the cover of night. The buildings were lit up like Christmas trees and they had fireworks going off in the distance.

“Excuse me, Miss?” you hear a familiar voice and turn to see one Sgt. James Barnes dressed to the nines in his military uniform. “I’m looking for my friend, Steve. He was just with us at the Stark show but then disappeared. He’s blonde, kinda thin, always walks around with his head down. Have you seen him by any chance?”

You have to calm the pounding of your heart before you can respond. “Um, yes… I think I saw him heading toward the Recruitment Center,” you tell Bucky. Even though you hadn’t actually seen him, you know that’s where he must be.

Bucky frowns, sighing in irritation. “That little punk,” he mutters under his breath. You’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear that and have to refrain from smirking. “Uh, thank you,” he nods, backing away and heads in the direction of the center, the two women with him following behind.

It takes everything in you not to go rushing over there yourself to make sure things are going according to plan. You have to make sure your presence can’t interfere with Dr. Erskine seeing Steve for the first time. You complete a full lap around the Fair, hoping that will have killed enough time before you start to make your way back.

You watch a figure heading your way and come to a stop.

“This is me not sneaking up on you,” Howard proclaims, hands raised in innocence.

“Mr. Stark,” you greet, smiling in amusement. “How was your show? Did you blow them out of the water?” you ask, using his turn of phrase against him.

“Well, something certainly blew,” he laughs good-naturedly. “I take it, you saw what happened?”

You shake your head, “No, but I’ve certainly heard all about it.”

“News travels fast.”

“I happen to be in a unique position where knowing exactly what happens, and when, can mean a matter of life or death,” you tell him frankly.

“Well, then I guess I better let you get back to work. Maybe we can get drinks sometime when death is no longer on the table,” he grins.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Stark,” you dismiss, beginning to step around him to continue on your way.

“Vic?” You look up to catch Steve coming out of the Recruitment Center. His gaze flickers over your shoulder to watch the man you’d just been speaking with walk away. “You know Howard Stark?”

You walk up to him, shrugging your shoulders casually. “He’s more of an acquaintance,” you explain. More like an annoyance.

“I just…” his brow furrows and he frowns. “I don’t understand what you’d be doing, hanging around a guy like me when you know a man like that.”

“Steve,” you step up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. It doesn’t escape your notice how he’d referred to himself as just a guy, but Howard as a man. “I love that you don’t have an ego the size of Texas, like most men in this world, but you really need to start giving yourself more credit.”

He smiles wryly. “I’ll try and work on that. This certainly helps,” he lifts up a brown folder that he carries and hands it to you.

You open it to find his enlistment papers. It’s stamped with 1A on the bottom and has Dr. Erskine’s signature for approval. The relief you feel is so immense you could just about collapse right now. “Steve, that’s amazing!” you tell him, sharing his excitement.

“I ship out to Camp Lehigh tomorrow morning.”

You close the folder and hand it back to him, “Well, then. I guess I’ll see you there,” you grin.

“You will?” he questions in surprise.

“I told you that I was only in New York for the week. Wherever Dr. Erskine goes, I go.”

Steve feels a strange sense of relief knowing that he’ll still get to be around you, and this isn’t goodbye, just yet. “Do you really think I’ve got a shot at this? You said you were looking for soldiers with a specific skillset. Why would Dr. Erskine choose me?”

“Because of this,” you tap a finger against his temple. “And because of this,” you drop your hand to tap at his chest. “Anyone can pick up a gun and follow orders. You have to be more than that. This isn’t about strength or bravery. This is about knowing the value of a life before you decide to take it. I’m not saying that this next week is going to be easy for you. In fact, it’s probably going to be very difficult. But you have to show them that you’re more than the sum of your parts. I know you can do this, Steve. You’re destined for greatness.”

You catch the way his eyes dip to your lips but barely have enough time for that to register before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. Not expecting him to do that, you stiffen up from the shock. Steve reacts almost immediately, pulling back with a panicked look on his face. “I’m so sorry. I thought-”

You grab his face in both of your hands and smash your lips back onto his. You kiss him long and slow, just the way you know he likes it. You can feel his inexperience in the way he’s slow to respond. He nearly drops the folder in his hands, remembering at the last second to grip it tighter with one hand as the other falls to your hip. Your tongue darts out to lick tentatively at his plump lower lip. He tastes salty, like popcorn from the fair. You feel his entire body shiver when your tongue swipes against his lips again.

His heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest and he’s getting dizzy from lack of oxygen, but he doesn’t want this to stop. You make the decision for him, when you pull back, your nose brushing tenderly against his. He has to blink several times as the haze clears from his mind before he meets your hooded gaze. “Wow…” he breathes. “I- that was… wow.”

You can’t help but giggle at how adorable he is. “Right back at ‘cha,” you wink.

His lips split into a dopey grin. He knows that he must look like an idiot, but he’s past the point of caring. “How much longer do you have to stay?” he asks.

You look down at your watch. “Maybe another hour or so.”

“I can wait if you want to go home together?” he asks, hope shining in his eyes.

Your gaze softens, “I’d like that. Why don’t you finish checking out the Fair and then meet me back here?”

“Okay,” he agrees, eyes flickering down to your lips once more.

Unable to help yourself, you lean in for another kiss. He kisses back a little more fervently. When you pull back, you have to physically distance yourself by stepping away from him, otherwise, you’d never let him leave. “See you in an hour,” you smile.

“Yeah,” he nods once, walking backward a few steps before turning to head back to the Fair exhibits. For the first time, he walks with his shoulders back and his head held high. There’s almost even a bounce to his steps. He glances once over his shoulder and grins when he sees that you’re still watching him.

“So, that is the one, huh?”

You start at the sound of Dr. Erskine’s voice, not having heard him walking up to you. “Hmmm?” you question, unsure if he’s asking whether you think Steve is the one for Project Rebirth, or what exactly.

He grins and gives you a knowing look. “The man capable of holding your interest. You have good taste.”

You laugh nervously, your blood heating in embarrassment. “Didn’t I say you might meet him one day?”

He chuckles. “Yes, well. It would have saved me quite a few gray hairs if you had brought him over a lot sooner.”

You grin widely at that. “Sorry, Doctor,” you apologize with a light laugh. “But it needed to be his own decision to come. He wouldn’t have accepted if he thought the offer had been handed to him because of me.”

“I can understand that,” he nods along to your words. “Well, why don’t you take the rest of the evening off and go enjoy the fair with your man?”

You look up at him in surprise. “Really?”

He smiles fondly down at you. “You won’t have much time to spend with him once we’re at the base. And I can now rest easy, knowing there is a candidate that I can truly put my faith in.”

“I thought scientists didn’t believe in faith.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “This one may have changed his mind.”

You smile victoriously.

“Just make sure he’s not late for the bus tomorrow morning. You and I can head for Camp Lehigh afterward.”

“Of course,” you nod.

“Enjoy your evening, Vic,” he dismisses you, beginning to turn back toward the Recruitment center.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you call after him.

He waves you off before you turn and excitedly hurry toward the direction Steve disappeared to. It takes a minute to find him in the large crowd. It’s definitely not as easy to spot him without those broad shoulders. Eventually, you catch sight of his blonde head of hair and make your way over. You approach him from behind and loop your arm through his.

His head swings over to you, surprise lining his features until his eyes meet yours. “Hey!” he greets you with a toothy grin.

“Erskine gave me the rest of the night off,” you grin back.

“Oh, well do you want to head home now, then?”

You shake your head, still smiling. “No. I want to see the Fair and share a bag of popcorn with my best guy.”

Steve starts to look around. “Well, is he meeting us here, or…” he pretends not to know who you’re talking about.

“Steve!” you laugh and slap his shoulder.

He laughs too. His eyes flicker all over your face and you can almost feel their caress. “I’ve never been anyone’s best guy before.”

“Would a kiss help to convince you?”

“It might.”

You happily lean in until your lips are pressed to his. You keep this one sweet, but short, not wanting to cause a scene that might embarrass you both. “How about now?” you ask, tilting your head to rest your forehead against his.

“I think I’m getting there.” His words tickle your cheeks.

You laugh, pulling back. With your arm still linked through his, you tug Steve toward the closest popcorn stand. He holds the bag while you happily munch on the salty snack and look around at the exhibits. You find it absolutely hilarious how dated all of these latest and greatest inventions all are. It’s almost difficult to keep it to yourself.

You’re highly amused and thoroughly enjoying yourself, but your internal commentary is far more entertaining than the actual exhibits. Mostly, you’re just enjoying what little time you have left with Steve. As the crowds begin to thin out and the night air starts to grow colder, you and Steve decide that it’s time to head back home.

The two of you walk through the door hand in hand. You feel lighter than air and you’re just so happy that you can now kiss him whenever you want. And you did. Multiple times on the journey home. The blissed-out expression hasn’t left his face all night and it just makes you want to kiss him even more. The way your heart pounds in your chest makes this feel like new love, even though you’ve been in love with him for years.

You’re barely able to let go of each other long enough to get ready for bed. And even once you are both tucked away for the night, you’re more wrapped up in each other than in the blankets. You pull out of, yet another, lengthy lip-lock. He’s getting better with each one, picking up on your cues and responding in kind. It makes you feel like a teenager all over again. Making out with your boyfriend in the dark. Getting drunk and giggly off of his kisses. Steve is breathless by the end of every one, but like a champ, he keeps coming back for more.

“We should sleep,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason. “You need to be at the bus station bright and early and you still need to pack.”

“Just one more,” he insists, leaning forward and stealing your lips back. You can’t protest and he damn well knows it. With your hand at the back of his neck, your nails scratch at the shorter hairs right at his nape. His own hand presses against the middle of your back, pushing your body even closer to his. You can feel his arousal against your lower abdomen, but he doesn’t act on it. If you thought he was ready for it, you’d try to get him to, but for now, you’re content with just kissing him.

You pull back once again. While he catches his breath, you duck your head down, tucking it beneath his chin and bury your face into his chest. “Okay, now we’re really going to sleep,” you urge, safely tucked out of reach.

“Fine,” he sighs stubbornly, tilting his head to rest his cheek against your hair.

You laugh and your breath causes his skin to tingle. “Good night, Steve.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he responds. “Sweet dreams, Vic.”

A content hum leaves your throat as your muscles begin to relax. “Who needs sweet dreams when this is so much better?”

For the first time in a long time, Steve falls asleep with a smile on his face.

The two of you pack up together when morning comes. You’ve slipped back into your military uniform and have taken the dark green dress coat out of your suitcase to help cover the mended bullet holes in your shirt and to make room for you to pack away your toiletry bag and first aid kit.

You look around Steve’s bedroom to make sure you’ve got everything. The glint of metal catches your eye from the top of the dresser inside the closet. Stepping closer, you find that it’s the pistol you took from those Hydra agents at the beginning of the week. God, that feels like a lifetime ago. Glancing around to make sure you’re still alone, you grab the gun and take it to your suitcase. It may come in handy later. You pull out the magazine and check the chamber before tucking the gun away and closing up the suitcase.

Lifting it by the handle, you walk out of Steve’s room. You pause as you enter the living room, smiling at the sight before you. Steve is sitting cross-legged on the floor next to his bookshelf. His suitcase is only half-filled with clothing and he’s packing books into the other half.

“You’re probably going to be the only person showing up with books in their suitcase,” you laugh lightly.

He looks up from the two books he has in either hand and grins. “You’re the one that said I should stand out.” He puts one book into the case and places the other back on the shelf.

“Valid point.” You move to set your suitcase down by the front door. “You almost ready?”

“Almost.” He reaches up to grab a picture frame that sits on top of the bookshelf, next to the radio.

“Is that your parents?” you ask, looking at the black and white photo over his shoulder. It shows a pretty blonde woman and a man dressed in a World War I uniform.

“Yeah. They took this the day he shipped out. Ma was already pregnant with me, but didn’t know it, yet.” Turning the frame around, he unlatches the back door and pulls the photo out. He tucks it for safekeeping under the hardcover of one of his books before placing the empty frame back on the shelf.

He pulls the trunk closed and flips the latches to lock it shut. He then pushes up onto his feet with a small grunt. “Well, I guess I’m as ready as I can get. I still kind of feel like I’m not completely sure what I’m getting myself into.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. “Just think of this as your next adventure.”

You each carry your own suitcases out of the apartment and Steve turns around to lock the front door. You take one last look at the place. If everything goes according to plan, you’ll never end up back here. It’s a bittersweet feeling. You may have only stayed here for a week, but it was long enough to make this place feel like a home to you. You’re going to cherish the memories that were created here.

“Shall we?” Steve asks after making sure that the door is securely locked.

“We shall,” you nod, taking his hand in yours and carrying your suitcase with the other. The two of you walk down the steps and out onto the street, hailing a taxi next. The driver pulls over and steps out to help you place your bags into the trunk of the car. Steve holds the door open for you to take a seat in the back before sliding in after you.

He gives the driver instructions to take you both to the bus depot where he’s been told to report. As the taxi takes off, you notice the way Steve’s leg bounces up and down. You’re not sure if it’s from nerves or because he’s excited. It may be a little of both. Reaching over, you take his hand back into yours, threading your fingers between his.

He turns away from the window to meet your gaze, smiling softly when he sees you looking tenderly back at him. He lifts your entwined hands up and presses a kiss to your knuckles.

The taxi soon pulls up to the front of the bus depot. At the back of the turn-about area, you can see that the bus destined for Camp Lehigh is already waiting, a line of men stand out front getting their bags loaded into the side of the bus before boarding. You step out of the taxi from your side and help Steve pull his case from the back. He sets it down on the edge of the sidewalk before turning back to you.

“I’ll see you there, Soldier,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Don’t go easy on me, okay?” he requests.

You smirk openly, “It’s not me you need to worry about.” A picture of Colonel Phillips comes to mind.

He scoffs out a laugh. “Well, don’t tell anyone to go easy on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you grin, amused by his request. He never likes having things handed to him. “Good luck.”

He grins wide, lifting his suitcase and taking a step back. “I don’t need luck. I’ve got Lady Victory on my side.”

Your heart stops as you’re overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu. You’ve heard him say that before. Multiple times. It was basically his default response whenever anyone told him ‘good luck’ during missions. He’d say it with that same cheeky grin and that twinkle in his eyes.

It had to be a coincidence. Right?

Steve is already out of earshot by the time your mind restarts and your default response comes tumbling out. “Love you too, Cap.”

Your heart clenches as your mind begins to race. Is there a deeper meaning here? Something that you’re missing, maybe?

“Where to, Miss?” the taxi driver pulls you out of your thoughts, eager to keep things moving.

“Right…” you pull your focus and get back into the vehicle. You give him the address to Dr. Erskine’s apartment in Queens. The doctor told you to meet him there before an SSR designated driver would show up to take you both to Camp Lehigh.

You watch Steve’s figure through the car window until the taxi pulls out, your mind still racing. It had to just be a coincidence, you surmise and try to push the thought from your mind.

You spend the drive down with Dr. Erskine going over the testing rubric for the recruits. It’s heavily weighted toward the strength side of the spectrum and it makes you wonder just how exactly Steve manages to pull this off. Your Steve never really mentioned much about what actually happened at Camp Lehigh. All he said was that it had been a grueling and intense week of testing and training that his body definitely hadn’t been prepared for. And yet, it also ended up being the best thing that ever happened to him.

As the car pulls onto the base, it drives past all the soldiers marching in formation and standing at attention out on the main field. The driver eventually comes to a stop right outside the officer quarters. You step out of the car on your side and walk around the back to re-join Dr. Erskine. The two of you look over toward the front door of the building where Colonel Phillips is now stepping out.

“Doctor, welcome back.” He greets stepping up to you both and shaking Erskine’s hand. “Who’s this?” he questions, giving you a brief side glance.

“Agent V, sir,” you introduce yourself with a salute.

“She’s my personal assistant,” Erskine explains.

“Since when do you have a personal assistant?”

Erskine gives him a hard look. “Since you gave me only a week to find a candidate.”

Colonel Phillips releases a sigh, “Yeah, I saw them come in. I’m pretty sure I know which one you picked.” He places his hands on his hips and stares you down. “Agent “V”, huh. That short for something?”

You stare back, unflinching. “Victory, sir.”

“Oh boy,” he rolls his eyes. “That sounds like some sorta BS that New York Senator would cook up.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep in the snark.

“Lieutenant, please escort Agent V to her quarters. She’ll be bunking with Agent Carter,” Colonel Phillips orders a passing soldier before turning back to Erskine. “You and I are going to talk about these candidates.”

You turn to find that your driver has already pulled your suitcase from the back of the car for you. You give him your thanks as you take it and then follow the Lieutenant inside. The soldier leads you to a door at the very end of the hall, to the left. You knock once on the door.

“Come in,” you hear from inside.

Turning the knob, you push open the door and step inside. The room looks similar to a college dorm. Two matching twin-sized beds, two matching desks, two sets of drawers. There’s a door immediately to the right, which you assume is the bathroom.

Peggy sits at the desk closest to the door, various papers spread across its surface. “Can I help you?” she asks, pushing her chair out to stand.

“I’m Agent V,” you introduce yourself. “I’m here as Dr. Erskine’s assistant. Colonel Phillips instructed me to stay here.”

“A pleasure to meet you, I’m Agent Carter.” She reaches her hand out to greet you.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an absolute idiot. You never dreamed you’d get to meet this woman. She was an absolute legend amongst female SHIELD Agents.

“God knows we could certainly use another woman around here,” Peggy smiles, gesturing for you to come further into the room. “Sheets for your bed should be in the top drawer to the right. Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” you smile kindly. You glance at the paperwork on her desk as you pass by before you set your suitcase down next to your bed. “Are you looking over the reports for the new recruits?”

“Yes,” she stands next to the desk and brushes her fingers over the papers. “Colonel Phillips has made it clear that we are picking our subject from this group. We won’t see the men until tomorrow morning, but just based on their recruitment reports, it’s obvious there’s one that doesn’t seem to belong with the rest.”

You can’t help but chuckle under your breath. “You’re talking about Steve Rogers, aren’t you?” Peggy looks up from the paperwork to meet your gaze. “Dr. Erskine picked Rogers out himself.”

She nods, “I saw the signature of approval, I just can’t figure out why.”

You grin widely, “I think you’ll know by the end of the week.”

She finds herself matching your smile. “Well, now I’m intrigued.”

You laugh briefly and turn to get your suitcase unpacked and your bed made. Steve had once told you that the romance portrayed between himself and Agent Carter had been purely propaganda for the media. Sure, he’d respected the hell out of her, but he only ever saw her as a friend. And supposedly, the feelings had been mutual, so you had no reason to feel threatened by her presence.

“Where are the recruits now?” you ask while stuffing your pillow into a white cotton pillowcase.

“Getting fitted for their uniforms and having their dog tags stamped out. After that, they’ll spend the next several hours filling out paperwork.”

You release a low hum, “Lucky them.”

Part 6

#steve rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #40s steve x reader #captain america x reader

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magicianapprenticelyra · 3 years

Text

Day 7: Free Day!

@sweetalnazar

Featuring Lyra Nguyen and Asra Alnazar; Canon Timeline

(Established Relationship)

CW: Some suggestive scenes, but it’s not explicit.

Four to five years later . . .

After everything is finally put into place, the would-be newlyweds are taken out of their respective dressing rooms. Their families watched as the couple were brought close together, just a few feet apart. Their hands are firmly planted over their own faces; Asra shifts his weight from one foot to another as Lyra bounces on the balls of her feet.

“CAN WE PLEASE LOOK AT EACH OTHER NOW?!” Lyra demands, voice muffled from behind her palms.

There’s warm laughter all around, especially as Lyra’s bouncing soon becomes her impatiently stamping her feet.

“You may!” Nadia replies with a radiant smile.

Together, Asra and Lyra countdown from three. At one, Portia passes Lyra’s glasses over to her, quickly getting out of the bride’s line of sight as Lyra places them over her eyes. In turn, her partner draws his hands together, palm to palm. He slides them down the front of his face, just stopping before his fingertips touch the end of his nose.

They lock eyes. Asra looks like someone who's had the air pulled from his chest, as if he can't remember to breathe. Lyra’s knees buckle under her, arms flailing as she catches herself before hitting the ground.

“Oh look at you!” Lyra exclaims, immediately springing up onto her feet. She pulls Asra into a delighted hug, promptly swinging him around in a circle. The skirts of their dresses billow out from the motion, their peals of laughter echoing in the Palace’s halls.

Before Lyra can get too dizzy and drop her spouse-to-be, she manages to stop. She sets Asra back down, swaying a bit. Before Lyra can fall over for real, Asra catches her, pulling her upright.

They can’t stay in the Palace for long: the ceremony is taking place at The Shop!

Nadia and Portia usher the pair into a carriage outside. In turn, the rest of the attendees get into similar transportation.

O*O*O

Praetor Vlastomil is running a bit late. This isn’t a bad thing, for it gives everyone a chance to catch up. Aisha and Salim are trading stories with Bảo, Walterine and James; Neha is chatting with Portia, with the latter helping Neha adjust the flowers in her hair.

“I��m sorry that the Praetor continues to be unreliable,” Nadia murmurs. She’s with Asra and Lyra, the three of them just a ways away from everyone else.

“He at least had the mind to let us know he was running late,” Lyra replies. Her veil is over her face, shielding her from passersby that shout their congratulations every so often. Her eyes are drawn to Asra. He’s drawn her veil over his face, resting the side of his head against her shoulder. His eyes are closed, the picture of sleep.

“I’m envious that he can fall asleep so easily,” Lyra murmurs.

Nadia chuckles. “Depending on how it goes tonight for the both of you, you’ll probably be able to fall asleep easily enough.”

Lyra blushes, averting her gaze. Her abrupt movement makes the edge of her veil tickle over Asra’s nose, making him sneeze and waking him up.

“Mm?” he mumbles, rubbing his nose with his knuckles.

“Sorry my love.” Lyra adjusts her veil as he shifts out from under it. “How was your sleep?”

“Decent,” Asra yawns, sitting up to stretch. “Any sign of the Praetor?”

“Well—”

Worm! Faust declares.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Lyra looks down to the flower basket between her and her partner’s feet.

Their familiars are waiting patiently for their time to shine. Faust was curled up in the basket of flowers. The basket itself was etched with some glyphs. Once the magic in them was activated, the basket would float. This would allow Faust to grab flowers—and their petals—with her mouth. The morph gets to fling them wherever she pleases.

Nook, Lyra’s book-shaped mimic of a familiar, is their ring bearer for the occasion. He’s in charge of a tinier basket. Nook would need to keep the longer handle of said basket between his teeth to keep pace with Faust’s floating one.

Inside the tiny basket were two paper flowers, one set in a corsage-like arrangement while the other is attached to a hairpin. Lyra had painstakingly assembled them while Asra painted them. The corsage had the red lotus, and the pin was adorned by the purple flower of the belladonna.

Respectively, they’re Lyra and Asra’s favorite flowers. Tucked safely in the center of each flower is their partner’s ring. When the time comes, the lotus corsage would be wrapped over Lyra’s wrist, and the belladonna neatly pinned behind Asra’s ear. Afterward, the rings would go to the appropriate finger of their partner’s hand.

In the meantime however, the newlyweds-to-be watch Faust slowly raise herself from her little bed of flowers, repeating, Worm!

Lyra and Asra look at each other, confused.

Nook’s eyes snap open. His four sea green eyes shift toward the right. Nook raises himself onto his tarantula-esque feet, baring his sharp teeth as he growls.

“Nook, what’s the matter?” Lyra squeaks, startled by the sudden menace overcoming her familiar.

Nadia looks toward the direction of Nook’s line of sight, immediately getting to her feet.

“Oh no.” The disgust in the Countess’s voice is palatable. Asra and Lyra blink at her, bewildered, until they see what she means.

The Praetor had brought one of his worms with him.

O*O*O

A temporary, ramshackle pen is made off to the side of The Shop in order to contain Wriggler. The servants that came with Vlastomil are very, very apologetic in expression to the more unimpressed members of the wedding party.

“Do you suppose it’s going to hold?” Salim murmurs to James, eyeing the creaky posts that were slapdashed together.

“Gods willin’ an’ we don’t have to deal wit’ anyone gettin’ bit or The Shop getting destroyed,” the latter replies in kind, their gazes drifting to their respective spouses.

Aisha is taking all of it in, bemused. Walterine and Bảo, on the other hand, are fuming beside the Countess. Nadia is giving a quiet but adamant final warning to the Praetor that if Wriggler ever shows up to another one of these ceremonial obligations again, she’d have Vlastomil replaced post-haste.

As all that is going on, Asra, Neha, Portia, and Lyra are all staring at the gigantic worm—with teeth!—in awe.

Lyra supports Nook with one forearm under him, having his backside pressed against the front of her dress. With her free hand, Lyra has it gently clasped over Nook’s mouth. That doesn’t stop Nook from growling at Wriggler, but the precaution is there. Asra holds the basket Faust is coiled up in, the latter peering nervously over the rim of it at Wriggler.

“She’s gotten bigger since the last time I saw her—” Asra laughs as the three around him stare in abject horror.

“That worm can get bigger?!” Neha whispers loudly, incredulous.

At this point, all Lyra can do is shrug. Before anyone can say anything else, Praetor Vlastomil calls for Asra, Lyra, and their immediate families to come and step to the spots they’re going to be at.

“I don’t have all day! I have my precious Wriggler and the rest of my worms to attend to!”

“Are you ready?” Lyra asks, looking at the familiar in her arms. Nook blinks at her, his mouth curling into a grin. “Alright. Get the basket and we’ll take our places. No trying to bite Wriggler, okay?”

On it! Nook replies. Once Lyra sets him down, Nook rushes to get his basket. Some onlookers jump out of the way as he zooms past them, making Lyra laugh.

Asra waves his hands over the glyphs on Faust’s basket, murmuring the words to activate them. As Faust is lifted by the magic basket, a loud WHEE! echoing in their heads.

Lyra stands beside Asra, offering her arm out for him to hold. Asra graciously loops his arm with hers. Their expressions are mirroring each other: just a little shy, but full of adoration for their partner.

“Ready when you are, Faust!” Neha calls from off the side of the Praetor.

When Nook finally takes his place beside the morph, she commands the basket:

Forward!

O*O*O

“ . . . and by the power vested in me by the city-state of Vesuvia, I pronounce you married.” Vlastomil barely gets the words you may now—with a disgusted scoff—kiss your partner, before Asra and Lyra grab at each other.

With her veil no longer separating her lips from her spouse's own, Lyra dips him into a deep kiss. As Asra goes completely slack in her arms, Lyra wraps her arms securely around him.

Cheers and applause from their friends, loved ones, neighbors, and onlookers alike echo into the neighborhood. Bells are shaken wildly and horns are blown. Confetti and rice are thrown into the air, scattering about the ground and carried away by the wind.

She’s the one that pulls back from the kiss first. Upon seeing her partner’s face, Lyra can’t help but laugh. Asra has the most blissful expression, and she’s sure that he’s floating.

She attempts to right Asra onto his feet, but he is, indeed literally, floating off of the ground.

“Do I need to hang onto you?” Lyra asks.

“Just for a short while,” Asra replies breathlessly, eyes soft and adoring. Lyra chuckles. She acts as his anchor, having an arm wrapped behind his waist and a hand clasped with his. They turn to look on at their friends and family, now being greeted as a newly wedded couple.

O*O*O

After Wriggler and the Praetor are gone, the festivities go into full swing. Asra’s feet eventually return to the ground, but he’s still on the high of being married to the love of his life.

Nadia has to leave to return to her duties as Countess, but she wishes them well.

“Say hi to Julian for us!” Lyra bids her.

“I’ll extend your regards!” With that, a carriage whisks the Countess away.

In the meantime, the pair grab plates of food for each other, ducking past the threshold of The Shop and seeing all the tables set around so their guests could sit, eat, and mingle. Their place of honor is where the glass case counter used to be. It’s pushed back against the shelving, which is boarded up to prevent any inventory from falling out and onto the floor.

It couldn’t have gone any better.

O*O*O

As the day passes into evening, and well into the night, the guests begin to file out of The Shop. Asra and Lyra’s parents and parental figures help them to clean up the mess. James, Bảo, Salim and Walterine get the glass counter back to where it was, with Neha and Lyra quickly sweeping the floor beforehand.

Nook gets to eat whatever scraps he finds. He’s currently hidden in a corner, eating his fill as Faust snoozes in her basket.

As the table runner is placed over the display case, Walt says with a grin, “And that’s it!”

“Oh thank goodness—” Lyra leans against the top of it, slumping over from exhaustion. Asra gently pats her shoulder, garnering a few laughs.

“Before we go, Habibi,” Aisha says, coming forward, “I’d like to say a blessing.”

Lyra immediately straightens up, looking to Asra for guidance. He holds her hand, giving her a reassuring nod.

Aisha stands before the two of them. She first speaks in Zadithi, and then says in Vesuvian, “May Allah grant you blessings, send blessings upon you, and bring you together in goodness.”

“Oh, Mom—!” Asra hugs her, and Lyra follows suit. She looks ready to cry, as well as everyone else in the room.

Lyra’s eyes drift to her uncle Bảo. He’s very, very nervous.

“Bảo? What’s on your mind?” Lyra asks.

“I, uh . . .” he rubs the side of his neck, looking sheepish. “I hope this not redundant—”

With some additional encouragement from his own spouses, Bảo steps forward. “I-I have a blessing of my own. You won’t know or remember it, but I hope it mean a lot all the same.”

Bảo clears his throat, saying, “Chúc hai bạn hạnh phúc trọn đời. It means to ‘wish you both a lifetime of happiness’.”

He is not prepared for when Lyra and Asra rush him with hugs. Bảo and the others outright fall into laughter as the newlyweds lift him up in their shared embrace.

“You get pass today because it your wedding!” Bảo exclaims, legs kicking in the air until he’s set down. He’s still smiling all the same, tears brimming in his eyes.

They all join together for one final group hug. Asra and Lyra see them out the door, waving and saying their goodbyes. After making sure the front lamp is out, Lyra locks the door.

Asra hugs her from behind, nuzzling her nape. “Mm . . . you should wear backless things more often,” he teases, pressing a kiss to her exposed neck and shoulder. Lyra shivers, leaning back into his warmth.

“What, so you could decorate me with kisses there?”

“That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?” Lyra can feel the mischievous glint in his eye, especially when he starts to mouth over her other shoulder. Before his teeth could graze over anymore of her skin, there’s a knock at the back door.

“It’s Muriel!” Lyra wiggles out of her spouse’s hold, laughing softly as a soft whine passes from his lips.

Upon opening the door, the two of them see that Muriel’s wrapped up in his massive cloak, his head and part of his face covered as usual. However, the collar and manacles he bore for so long are now a distant memory. None of them know exactly when Muriel’s gift of being forgotten stopped working, but it wasn’t long after the Alnazars and Aster-Nguyen families started getting more and more involved in and around his life.

“Hey Muri,” Lyra greets, smiling softly. “We saved some food for you and Inanna. Lemme grab the basket.” She ducks away to do that, allowing Asra and Muriel to catch up for a bit.

“Our parents were asking for you,” Asra murmurs.

“They know I don’t like crowds. Or people,” Muriel replies in kind.

“They know; Mom and Dad are still going to invite you for lunch or dinner at their place. It’s the same with Lyra’s parents too.”

“. . . they don’t have to.”

“They want to—”

“They want to!” Lyra echoes Asra, returning with the basket. She holds it out to Muriel with a smile “Here it is. We made some lemon squares for you too.”

Muriel sighs, exasperated. Still, he accepts the basket of food.

“We can’t thank you enough for the rings, Muri,” Asra says. He and Lyra hold up their hands, the wooden rings shining in the moonlight. “They fit perfectly.”

Muriel’s smile graces his face. Upon seeing their delighted smiles in turn, Muriel flushes. “It-it’s no big deal. Congratulations. Bye.” With that, Muriel trundles off into the darkness, heading back to the forest.

Lyra closes the door, shaking her head. “One of these days we’re gonna get him to come to dinner with us and our parents.”

“Give him time. He’ll come around.” Asra stretches, languidly leaning his front against his spouse.

Lyra chuckles, angling her body so that Asra can have his arms around her shoulders. She leans back against the wall behind her, shivering as the stone chills her exposed upper back.

“Mmm . . .” Asra tucks his face into the crook of her neck.

“You okay?” Lyra asks, angling her head so that her cheek could settle against the side of his face.

“Yeah. Tired . . .”

Lyra quietly tuts, nuzzling him. She kisses his temple, murmuring, “Sounds like bedtime.”

Asra snorts, leaning back so he can bat his eyes at her. His white eyelashes flutter enticingly, but Lyra’s resolute.

“We have the morning, my love,” Lyra counters, laughing as Asra pouts. She stands up and away from the wall. She remains steady when Asra wraps his legs around her waist, locking his ankles behind her lower back.

Lyra reinforces her hold on him with her hands against the underside of his thighs. She makes a beeline for the stairs, ascending them carefully with her precious cargo in her arms.

“We’ve been up all day and I am sure you just want to flop into bed—”

“—with you—!” Asra protests. When a yawn betrays him, Asra nuzzles into the side of Lyra’s neck.

She chuckles. “All right all right,” she relents, pausing midway up the stairs.

Lyra leans back a bit, allowing Asra to untuck himself from her neck. Their foreheads touch, their lips gently brushing against each other as Lyra deftly makes her way up the rest of the stairs.

A/N: Final Word Count: 2,800+ words

This is were I found the blessing Aisha says to Asra and Lyra [LINK]. I apologize ahead of time if I misrepresented any part of that.

Happy belated birthday to Asra and Faust! I’m glad I took the extra day to get this finalized. I loved writing every bit of it.

Thanks again for sweetalnazar and the rest of the participants for making this event possible and enjoyable! Have a good day/night!

[Asra’s design is from his official Wedding Charm design from Nix Hydra, and Lyra’s wedding charm art is done by @agent-darkbootie]

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imissjoongsmullet · 4 years

Text

Something Better (1/2)

Pairing: Bang Chan x reader

Genre: fluff/angst (will lead to smut eventually because hi hello it’s me writing about Chan)

Summary: You and Chan have been best friends since before you can remember but now that you’re in college, things start to feel strange, especially with the way he acts when it comes to your boyfriend.

Read part 2

Warnings: part 1 of 2 (probably), cutesy friendship stuff, lots of stupid banter, bit of suggestive conversations, a good dash of angst, Changbin as your boyfriend (do you need a warning for that lol), oh and though this one is pretty clean, there will be smut in later chapters.

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Ok so I’m going to try to keep this to 2 chapters but I can’t promise anything. Anyone who follows me knows I tend to get carried away it’s a thing... Also, yes, this is such a cliché trope but BOY DO I LOVE IT! Thanks again for the request. I had a great time writing this!

►

Five minutes to four. Almost there. The old man at the front of the auditorium had been droning on about the history of bleebidiblah wherever for the past two hours and you were very much ready for it all to end and for the weekend to begin. You heard a pencil drop beside you and turned to see your friend pick it back up and place it between his upper lip and nose.

“Looking great,” you whispered, fighting back a smile.

“I know,” he snickered, making the thing drop into his lap for the dozenth time that class.

Chan was kind of an idiot. But he was also kind of your best friend. You’d grown up in the same neighborhood and had been inseparable since kindergarten. He was the first person you’d went to when you’d found out Santa wasn’t real, the first person you’d ever sneaked out of the house to go to a party with and the first person you’d ever gotten blackout drunk with; not to mention he was the only one who knew about your irrational fear of oven toasters. He knew everything about you and you knew everything about him. You were a team, tied together so much so, that you’d even decided to follow each other to the same college.

“Hey,” he nudged your shoulder, “how about we go downtown tonight and celebrate the weekend? I heard it’s prolonged happy hour at GB’s.”

The twinkle in his eyes made you want to say yes; it was a very tempting offer. “Can’t,” you replied eventually, scrunching up your nose at him.

“Come on, why not?” said Chan, leaning in and shaking your thigh, “we can go to karaoke after and you can crash at my place. I bought so many Doritos and they’re not gonna eat themselves.”

You bit your lip. “I kind of promised Changbin I’d go over tonight.” You already knew what was coming.

“Again?” he exclaimed a bit too loudly, drawing the attention of some of the other students, “you stayed over like three times this week already.” He sagged in his chair, rolling his eyes at you.

“Don’t be a child,” you retorted shoving him lightly.

That put some of his smile back in place. “You know, I think this Changbin guy isn’t the one for you,” said Chan, pretending to look pensive, “he’s got shifty looking eyes… and his nose is too big.”

You couldn’t keep from chuckling. Dipping down in your chair out of sight of your teacher, you turned to your friend. “You’re so full of shit, what does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe he’s having evil, shifty, big-nosed plans and you don’t even know it.”

“Your nose is big too, you know?” you said, pinching his nose.

He slapped your hand away and pinched you back, which made you cry out so loud the teacher went silent, eyes in your direction. Your cheeks flushed hot but just as you were about to apologize to the entire auditorium, the bell rang, pushing everyone around you into motion.

“Oops,” said Chan, eyes full of mischief as he rose from his chair along with everyone else.

You packed your things and followed him, kicking at his heels pettily.

“Seriously though, all the staying over,” Chan went on once you were out in the packed hallway, “sure he isn’t tiring you out?” The wicked grin on his face told you exactly what he meant.

“Chan, I swear if you don’t shut up,” you started but he interrupted fast.

“I just mean, you’re a studious girl,” he explained, grabbing your shoulders and rubbing them, “you can’t have a shifty-eyed boy like him distract you from your super important studies with sexy times.”

“And you taking me out to GB’s is helping me with my studies how exactly?”

“At least I’m not trying to put my dick in you every single night.”

“Chan!” you yelled out, looking around frantically at all the other students within earshot of your conversation.

“Aww,” Chan chuckled, hugging you closer, putting his lips near your ear, “you’re so cute when you’re all flustered.”

You were extremely happy he was behind you and couldn’t see the look on your face because you were even redder than before, staring eyes-wide into space. For as close and you and Chan were, you couldn’t help but feel shy whenever he mentioned sexual stuff around you. Not that you weren’t a sexual person; you just didn’t really know how to act around him when it came to those things. It didn’t help that you felt him all over you now, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand right up.

“Listen,” you said, shrugging out of his grip and trying to compose yourself, “how about we hang out tomorrow night? I’m sure the drinks will be just as toxic and delicious then.”

He came up next to you. “Fine, but you’re buying,” he said, “you’ve been leaving me lonely far too much. I demand compensation.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Fine.”

[I’ll be there in 10]

You hurriedly typed as you left Changbin’s place. You were meeting Chan for coffee. You were supposed to work on an assignment together that afternoon but you felt more than a little distracted after the previous night hadn’t ended up as fun as you’d hoped. You didn’t even really remember how it had started but you and Changbin had gotten into an argument that had lasted for most of the night. It wasn’t anything heartbreaking; it was just frustrating that your relationship wasn’t going the way you’d imagined it. And now you’d have to face Chan and pretend everything was okay because you were far too prideful to give him the satisfaction of saying ‘I told you so’.

He was waiting at your typical spot in the back of the café, his notebook ready on the table. You were happily surprised to find him jotting things down as you walked up. When you sat down, however, you realized he’d just been doodling obscenities in the margins of his book.

“Good afternoon,” you said, closing his book and grabbing the coffee he’d ordered for you.

You felt his eyes on you as you sipped the burning hot drink. You were just waiting for it at this point.

“So,” he started, amusement dripping down his face, “how was last night?”

“Shut up,” you countered, opening up your own book and looking anywhere but at him.

You and Chan were used to working together. Chan always had problems focusing and you were always there to give him the kick in the ass he needed to get the work done. On the other hand, Chan was the one coming up with the most creative ideas for your projects so, despite your differences, you worked quite well off of each other.

For a while, things were fine: Chan was on his second coffee and the ideas flowed generously; you just had to write them down and turn them into usable content. Things were nice and light as they should be. You took a break and ordered waffles, enjoying them without any mention of Changbin; it was great. You talked about concerts you were excited to go to together in the coming months, showed each other movie trailers of stuff you really wanted to watch together and you laughed at the absolute dumbest things. You thought perhaps it was the caffeine that was making you both so silly.

Unfortunately, after that initial boost of energy, came the inevitable crash.

By the time Chan was picking at the ice at the bottom of his empty third coffee, things were started to shift. You were trying to finish up the assignment but it was clear Chan was starting to get burnt out. Gradually, conversation trickled away from the project at hand and into less productive territory.

“What is it you like about him?” he asked, staring zombie-like into his cup.

“Not now, Chan,” you sighed, eyes on your laptop screen. You felt his fingers at your side, poking lazily.

“No, come on,” he said, voice sleepy, “I wanna know.”

You stopped typing and took a deep breath.

“He’s—” you started, trying to think of something while your head replayed how you’d argued the night before.

Chan let out a chuckle. “Yeah, he sounds great.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groaned, a little harsher than you’d meant it, “let’s just get this done.”

But Chan didn’t let up. Your inability to define your love for Changbin had apparently made him very eager to tease you and it was getting harder and harder to ignore him.

“I bet he sleeps with his socks on,” he said, sipping his empty drink loudly, “weirdo.”

“Chan please.”

“Tell me he doesn’t.”

“Chan.”

“He totally does, doesn’t he!”

“Chan I swear if you don’t shut up I’m gonna kick you where it really hurts!”

“Fine,” he said, still laughing, putting up his hands in defense, “jeez, I was just having fun.” Then he came closer and, entirely oblivious, wrapped his arms around you tight. “No more coffee for you, it makes you mean.” He gave your temple a quick kiss and, chuckling, got up from his seat.

“Gotta pee, this coffee is going right through me, be right back.”

It occurred to you, as you watched him walk off, how odd your relationship with Chan was. Or maybe Chan was just an odd person? Or maybe he was simply acting oddly recently? You tried to shrug off the confusing thoughts and instead opened up your phone. The last text from Changbin was right at the top. You clicked it and smiled, rereading the sweet message he’d sent you the day before. You should probably make up with him soon, you decided.

After another half hour of half-assed adjustments, you and Chan finally called it a day.

“If you could input your slides right after mine, I’ll do the touch ups and bring it all to class,” you said, staring at your laptop screen, “we should probably go over it together the day before though.”

Chan’s face was in his arms on the table, looking drowsy. “Yeah, sounds good,” he mumbled, “I’ll type them out by Monday, we’ve got most of the stuff down already, it shouldn’t be hard.”

“Good,” you nodded, finally letting yourself sit back and relax. You closed your eyes in a long yawn as you stretched out your arms. When you opened them again Chan was looking at you.

“Tired huh?” he said, his lips curling up into a knowing smirk.

You stared back at your friend blankly. “You know what? Yes, I am actually. I stayed up most of the night.”

His eyebrows rose up in surprise but he didn’t speak.

“And that’s all I’m gonna say on the matter so can we please wrap this up now?” you added, “I think I should go see Changbin later tonight cause— well, we just have some things to discuss.”

“Wait, hold up,” said Chan, straightening up beside you and, finally, all laughter was wiped from his face, “I thought we were going out tonight.”

The memory of your promise hit you, throwing a small dose of guilt over your head. “I’m sorry, Chan, really. I just got some things to do—”

“Some things to do?” he interrupted, now definitely irritated, “you’re gonna ditch your best friend for some mediocre sex?”

“Chan that’s not what this is,” you started but you knew you’d set him off and there was no going back.

“Whatever,” he snapped, “it’s fine I’ll call some people who actually wanna hang out—”

“Chan—” you tried, shocked at the rapidity with which his mood had switched.

“—instead of someone who’ll leave me for the first boy to give her the least bit of attention—”

“Hey!” you said, getting up from your seat, heating up from the sting of his words.

Chan got up as well, the look in his eyes pained. “I said it’s fine,” he repeated, placing some money on the table and walking out.

(part 2)

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boxoftheskyking · 3 years

Text

Pick Up Every Piece, Part Five

In which we have a scene at the bar

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Early November 2000

When Jiang Cheng comes to the bar on his own, he lets Wei Ying watch his back. Which is to say, he sits at the bar and doesn’t spend the whole time half-turned to keep an eye on the door. When Jin Zixuan joins them, he hangs by the corner of the bar by the weird old poker machine that hasn’t worked in years, and he mostly avoids eye contact.

“Hey Zixuan,” Wei Ying says, grinning. “How’s your cousin?”

“Hm?” He’s so polite, always, in a snobby kind of way. Like he knows he’s better than you, but he’s far too well-bred to admit it. Wei Ying sometimes wonders if he got that from his mother. Wei Ying has never really spoken to Mrs. Jin outside of an awkward few minutes at the wedding, but what he knows of the rest of the family is far more in the “knows they’re better than you and will tell you to your face” camp.

“Your cousin, you know.” He winks at Jiang Cheng. “It’s the liiiiiife of the Jin!”

Jiang Cheng joins in, “What’s going down in Lanling—”

“Cut it out!” Zixuan reaches out like he’s going to cover Jiang Cheng’s mouth, but he doesn’t.

“It’s catchy!” Jiang Cheng giggles. It’s a gratifying sight.

“That show should be outlawed,” Zixuan says darkly.

“It’s genius,” Wei Ying argues, drinking in the two of them there, together. “Nie Huaisang is a visionary.”

“I’m going to have him imprisoned. He’s a curse.”

“He’s a genius. It’s a totally new art form.”

Jiang Cheng snorts. “Art form. It’s boring. I like seeing Jin Zixun humiliated as much as anyone, but it’s just rich people sitting around being stupid and rich.”

“It’s reality, but also pure escapism. It’s brilliant.”

“It’s a threat to national security,” Zixuan says. Wei Ying cackles.

Jiang Cheng makes a face. “There’s no story! There’s no, like, script.”

“There is a story! It’s all how Huaisang edits it.” Wei Ying hasn’t actually talked to Nie Huaisang in years, so he’s not that personally invested, but he can’t resist the chance to disagree with both Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan at the same time.

Zixuan slides his glass over for a refill. “Zixun is never going to get a real job. He has no skills, he can’t do anything useful, so he sits around and has cameras follow him? It’s a disgrace.”

“It’s the most watched show in the country. I watch it every week.”

Jiang Cheng intercepts Zixuan’s glass to steal a sip. “That’s because you also don’t have a real job.”

“Serve yourself then, asshole.”

“We don’t watch reality TV, we work. We’re civil servants.”

“I’ve written six columns on The Life of Jin, I’ll have you know. So it is my job. And I’m more of a civil servant than you, I barely make any money.” It earns him a pair of eyerolls, but they won’t insult the paper to his face. Not anymore. “I can’t believe they made you both work today.” It’s the wrong thing to say, and Wei Ying covers his wince to fill a row of pints.

“Yeah, well.” Zixuan scratches the back of his neck. He keeps his hair a bit long, like Jiang Cheng does, but on him it feels like a memorial. “Five years. I guess I can’t keep getting time off forever.”

Jiang Cheng is drumming his fingers on the bar, looking away.

“Five years to the day, though,” Wei Ying offers. He leans in, almost wanting to touch . . . something, then twirls away to ring someone up. He feels like a bird, a swallow, dipping and soaring and coming in close for a moment before getting scared back up to a tree top.

When he comes back the tension has receded.

“Dad wants me to move over to the business side of things,” Zixuan is saying.

“Leave intelligence?” Jiang Cheng’s brow furrows, clearly already imagining following his brother-in-law over to the corporate hellhole of Jin Industries.

“Yeah. He keeps talking about the CEO gig, as if I’m qualified.”

“No offense,” Wei Ying says, “but your dad has never been big on qualified.”

“What about Guangyao?” Jiang Cheng asks.

“He’s not the face Dad wants for the company. I don’t know, it’s like during the war, he’s staying back in his lab and his back office, tinkering with stuff. Dad wants a stupid— A face. You know, dynasty bullshit.”

“Like those propaganda posters.” Wei Ying grins at him. “That noble profile. I had one on my bedroom wall.”

“Don’t be creepy.” Jiang Cheng goes to smack him, but he ducks away. “You did not.”

“It wasn’t propaganda.” Zixuan sighs, having lost this argument before.

“It was good propaganda,” Jiang Cheng argues.

Wei Ying keeps his thoughts to himself, for once. He doesn’t comment on Jin Guangyao, either, though he could. A drunk girl yells at him from the other side of the bar, which helps.

“But like—” Zixuan takes a long gulp, spinning his fingers in frustration, looking for the words. “This is what I trained for. I joined the army at eighteen. I was in the army when it was just prison security and diplomatic escorts. My degree is decoration, and he knows that. It’s an art piece on the office wall, it doesn’t mean anything. I don’t know how I’m supposed to just become this business guy. It’s like— He doesn’t actually know me, who I am, what I’m good at. He just expects me to work wherever he plugs me in, to just be the best at whatever he thinks I should be the best at. I’m already the best at something. Right? I’m too old to be the best at something else.”

Wei Ying shrugs in sympathy. “Welcome to your thirties, eh?”

Jiang Cheng drains his glass, his third already. “He wants you to be a liquid.”

“What?”

“He thinks you’re a liquid. Your dad. Fit the shape of your container.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m not a fucking liquid.”

Jiang Cheng points at him. “That’s right. You’re not a fucking liquid.”

“I’m a solid.”

“You’re solid as shit, man.” Jiang Cheng pounds on Zixuan’s chest, and he winces slightly.

It’s nine o’clock, so Wei Ying decides he gets to pour himself a whiskey. He puts an orange slice in it, for vitamins.

Jin Zixuan looks into his own glass, thoughtfully. “Although, I mean. What’s a liquid without a container? Just a puddle, right?”

“Or a river,” Jiang Cheng says. They pause to contemplate rivers.

“What kind of liquid would you be?” Wei Ying asks, watching the gold of his liquor swirl around the melting ice cubes and the orange peel.

Zixuan huffs a laugh. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Vegetable soup,” Wei Ying says, then winces again.

“Soup,” Jiang Cheng agrees, quietly.

“Yeah,” Zixuan says. “Soup.”

They stare down into their glasses, drink.

“That reminds me,” Zixuan says, rallying after a long moment and pulling his fancy silver business card holder out of his breast pocket. “I got a new number.”

He hands Wei Ying a classy white card. It’s not his government one, just his phone number and his new email. Of course Jin Zixuan would have a personal business card, printed up by a printing company somewhere.

“Did you get rid of the old phone?” Wei Ying asks, carefully. Jiang Cheng looks between them, also careful, saying nothing.

“No, I just had to— I moved it to the basement. I can’t keep . . . The answering machine is still hooked up to the old one. I’ll still wipe the tape, so you can call—”

“Thanks.” We don’t talk about it. Let’s keep not talking about it. Wei Ying rinses a glass that’s already clean.

“If you want. It’s not a problem. I just can’t keep—”

“Yeah.” He wipes the glass, too quickly, the damp microfiber squeaks a little.

“A-Ling gets confused. He hears you say her name, you say ‘Jiejie,’ and he—”

“Yeah, I get it, no problem.” Wei Ying rinses the glass again.

“You can call me, though.” Jin Zixuan is looking at him, which he rarely actually does right in the face, horribly earnest. “You know that. You can call the new number and talk to him, or to me.”

“I know. I will.” He probably won’t. He looks over at Jiang Cheng, who’s chewing on his lip. Yanli would scold him for that, say that’s why it keeps chapping, worse now that it’s getting colder. He doesn’t leave her messages, Wei Ying doesn’t think. He doesn’t need crutches like that, he straps the anger onto himself like steel braces and gets on with things, limping.

Wei Ying would like to be angry, especially today on the five year anniversary. Five full years without her. That would be a comfort, such a relief, to be angry. But he doesn’t get to be angry when Jiang Cheng is around.

Jiang Cheng clears his throat. “I can’t believe your dad allows Zixun to do that show.”

Zixuan draws himself up, sucking in a breath like he’s coming out of water. “He must get something from it. Like some kind of PR or something.”

Wei Ying goes into the back and carries out a case of wine and a case of cider, loads them into the cooler. It takes a while, he has to pull things out so the warm bottles go in the back. He can vaguely hear his brothers insulting Jin Zixun and the state of modern television, keeping it light. He stares at the label on a bottle of cider—it’s an apple with a face, one of those unnerving cartoon faces where all the teeth are the same size and shape. No one’s teeth look like that.

He shuts the cooler and returns.

“If Zixun looks like a fool,” Wei Ying says thoughtfully, interrupting them like he’s supposed to, “then he’s mostly harmless. He’s a goofball. It must be useful for the great and powerful Jin to have a goofball side. It makes you look less, I don’t know . . .” He could say a lot of things. He could say things like tyrannical or despotic or calculating or morally questionable. He doesn’t say any of it, just waves his hands around.

Zixuan looks like he hears the words anyway, and as usual, he stares out across the bar. “He’s a sacrifice, I suppose. Zixun. He’s always been the spare.”

“Do you think he knows he’s being played?” Jiang Cheng asks. “Would he keep doing it if he knew?”

“My dad,” Zixuan says slowly. “Doesn’t play Go. Metaphorically speaking. Not like A-Yao does. But he does play poker. Zixun—” he spins the glass between his hands. “Zixun plays hopscotch. Badly.”

Wei Ying snorts, and it feels nice.

“I guess I don’t like the show so much anymore,” he says, pouting.

“Good,” Jiang Cheng reaches out and flicks his ear. Wei Ying lets him.

“Why does everything have to be nefarious?” Wei Ying whines, meaning reality TV but also Jiang Cheng and his mean fingers “Can’t we have something that’s just dumb? Aren’t we there, as a country, where we can just have stupid shit that’s stupid and doesn’t mean anything?”

“You mean besides you, and also your face?” Jiang Cheng asks. Zixuan sighs at them in a judgmental way.

Wei Ying taps his chin. “Although, there’s a column there. The insidious political machinations of so-called reality.” He hits the button to roll out some receipt paper and makes a few notes.

“I just don’t get why he does it,” Jiang Cheng muses. “He has to know he looks bad. Right? Like, he has to.” As if everyone is as pathologically obsessed with their public appearance as you are, which is something Wei Ying does not say. “It’s not like he needs the money.”

As always, that’s its own flavor of uncomfortable. Zixuan makes more money than Jiang Cheng, and has a trust fund on top of it. He keeps trying to make it up by buying expensive presents and starting a tab wherever they go, but Jiang Cheng won’t take it. He used to, back when Zixuan was just their shitty rich brother-in-law, or Yanli’s shitty rich boyfriend. He used to call it “Yanli’s dowry” when he’d leave his birthday dinner with a new stereo or a nice watch. Now that they’re friends, though, he gets pissed off. He’ll get mad if Zixuan buys him a hardcover instead of a paperback, now that they’re friends. He’s a complicated man. So is Zixuan, in his way.

That’s probably why they get along so well, and why Wei Ying is always a half a step off of their weird masculine choreography. Wei Ying fancies himself a complicated man, but it’s different. He’s in control in a way they don’t seem to be, not of his life but of his face and his voice and his sentence structure. It makes him a good reporter.

They, on the other hand, have always been good soldiers.

Wei Ying had cried when Jiang Cheng enlisted, mid-’93.

“You watch too many war movies,” he’d said, looking down at this lap, twisting his hands together, face hot and heart racing. “It won’t be like that, A-Cheng, there’s not any glory in it, it’ll just be horrible—”

“It’s the right thing to do.” Jiang Cheng had been stubborn as always, chin jutting out. “Wen Chao’s last attack—I can’t just sit here.”

Yanli hadn’t cried at all, she’d just looked between them, silent.

“Why don’t you come too?”Jian Cheng had asked him, eyes like a six-year-old. “You’d be good at it. We could do it together.”

“No, I gotta— Someone’s gotta report on all your heroics, right?” Wei Ying had been sweating, panicked, chills running down his arms, blowing his nose again and again. “Maybe I’ll get an assignment so I can follow you around and sing about your adventures. Like something out of those ancient poems, right?”

He’d been wrong about his role in the war, but more right than he’d be able to guess about ancient poetry. Because cultivation was real. Magic was real, and his brother was somehow mixed up in it.

He got drunk with Yanli the week after the first cultivator battle. The first battle with the new cultivator corps. Zixuan, Jiang Cheng, Lan Zhan, Mianmian, and the others.

“You husband is a wizard,” Wei Ying had said, slurring.

“Your brother is a wizard.” Yanli had flicked a sunflower seed into his lap.

That was her secret: when Yanli got drunk she could go through two bags of sunflower seeds by herself. She got the cheap ones from the gas station on the corner and split them with her teeth, scattering shells everywhere like a little disaster zone. She’d clean up all the evidence in the morning, before anyone woke up. She was almost never hungover.

Wei Ying loved that about her, the evidence she left, her secret messiness. He’d catch a stray shell in the corner, behind a potted plant or caught in the fringe of an area rug, and he’d get so rocked with love—violent, breathless love for her—that his vision would go spotty.

Or maybe that’s just how he remembers it, now that she’s gone.

“Actually, he’s your brother too,” Wei Ying had said at the time, poking her nose. “Your husband and your brother are both wizards. So what does that make you?”

“Well, there’s Lan Zhan. You’re blushing, see, you’re blushing. And Mianmian. They’re your—”

“Friends.”

“Yeah, but you kissed both of them.”

Wei Ying had stuck out his tongue at her, or done something equally childish.

She’d cracked a sunflower seed and popped it into her mouth. “We could be wizards if we wanted to.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely”

“We just aren’t.”

“We’re busy.”

“We are busy people.”

Wei Ying is shaken out of the memory by a pint glass slamming down on the bar, just missing Jiang Cheng’s elbow. It’s Li Wangcheng, youngest son of his usual source, Li Riseung.

“Fill ‘er up, asshole,” Li Wangcheng says, listing into his buddies on either side. Jiang Cheng and Jin Zixuan are both looking at him with equally disdainful nose wrinkles. “Chop chop.”

Wei Ying sighs. “Sorry, Wangcheng, you’re cut off. I already over-served you, and I promised your dad and your brother I wouldn’t.”

“Fuck you.”

“Your liver can’t take it. Here, have some water and go sit down.”

“Fuck you, Wei Ying. Fuck you.” He’s pushing off his friends, leaning over the bar with his tobacco-stained teeth and his mix-of-alcohol breath.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wei Ying moves away, wiping down the counter, and Wangcheng follows.

“I’ll fucking kill you. You watch your back, bitch, I’ll fucking find you, and I’ll kill you.”

Wei Ying puts up his hands. “Okay, man, take it easy.”

“I know where you live. I know where you park your bike. Your stupid little fucking— Your stupid bike.”

His two biggest friends start pulling at his elbow, pulling him away. He shakes them off.

“Don’t think I won’t. Don’t think I won’t find you, motherfucker.”

Jiang Cheng is off his stool, now, and Zixuan is moving around behind him, coming in to engage. Wei Ying waves them off, desperately. Wen Ning is leaving his spot by the door.

“When you leave tonight, you better—”

“The fuck did you say?” Jiang Cheng is up in his face, now, and Wei Ying has to come out from behind the bar. He hates leaving the bar, it’s his comfortable place to be.

“Leave it. A-Cheng, A-Xuan, leave it, leave it.” He gets himself between them all, holding his brother back. Wen Ning has a good hold on Wangcheng’s shoulders.

“Fuck you.” That sprays a bit in his face, the plosive. “Everything was fine before you came here. Yiling was fine before you came here, and then everything went to shit.”

“That’s not—” Jiang Cheng tries to butt in, but Wei Ying sticks an elbow in his gut.

“I said, leave it.”

“Fucking worthless,” Wangcheng spits at him, and Wen Ning and his friends haul him back towards the door. “Fucking demon. You’re a fucking demon, Wei Ying! Fucking cursed!”

Wen Ning throws them out, and the silence following is awkward, no one looking at each other. Wei Ying wipes his face, straightens Jiang Cheng’s shirt collar, and goes back to work. There’s a short woman standing there, frozen, holding out her empty glass. He gets her another gin and cranberry, pleased that he remembered, and she gives him a pitying kind of smile. He hides his hands down by his sides, but he knows she’s seen them. Everyone can see them; he doesn’t cover them.

“Holy shit,” Jiang Cheng says, still staring back at the door.

“Yeah. Never mind.” Wei Ying readjusts his t-shirt.

“Never mind? That was a death threat. For what, cutting him off?”

“Forget about it.”

“For cutting him off? What the fuck?”

“A-Cheng, forget it.”

“I’m not gonna forget it, that guy knows where you live.”

“It’s fine, it happens. Leave it. Please? Leave it.”

Jiang Cheng sits down. Zixuan says nothing, looking between Jaing Cheng and the door.

“Does it happen a lot?” Jiang Cheng is interrogating, intelligence-mode.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Wei Ying, does it happen a lot?”

“I mean, a bit. Okay?”

“For cutting—?”

“It’s not about cutting him off. It’s not about that. It’s not about me. Calm down.”

“Sure sounded like it’s about you. ‘Demon,’ really—”

“If it wasn’t me it would be someone else. Wen Ning. His friends. His dad.” Wei Ying chops more limes than he needs to, calmed by the sharpness of the knife. “He’s dying. Actually dying, everyone knows it. His liver is shot. He’s been laid off for months, and he can’t pay for any more treatment. His dad’s broke, mom died in the war. He’s lashing out.”

“But that’s not your—”

“You can’t swing at the clouds forever. Right? He’s not the only one. People feel good here, they feel comfortable here, and so they can hit someone here if they need to. You get beaten down and beaten down for year after year, eventually you have to fight back. Right? Otherwise what are you?” What am I? he doesn’t ask.

Zixuan clears his throat, still not looking at him. “What’s the use of fighting you? You’re not—”

Wei Ying laughs at him, mean. “What’s he gonna do, fight your dad? The whole fucking government? Who can he hit? After a while, you have to hit something or you’ll go mad. You have to make contact. Right?” He chops another lime. “You have to have an effect on something. You have to hit someone and see the bruise, or yell at someone and see them flinch. Otherwise it’s like you don’t exist at all. You’re already dead.”

“Wei Ying,” Zixuan says it, which is a surprise. He almost never says his name.

“Somewhere like this, somewhere like Yiling, all you can reach is the guy next to you. Once they put the crabs in the bucket, they put the lid on.”

The chatter in the bar is back, which is nice since there’s an awkward silence between the three of them. Wei Ying puts the chopped limes into the cooler and washes the cutting board, washes the knife. He replaces a drink at the other end of the bar earlier than he normally would—the guy is only halfway through, but he nods a thanks.

“What about—” Zixuan starts, hesitant. “Wei Ying, what about police?”

“Ha!” Wei Ying snaps it at him, not a laugh, not at all. “Don’t you— You don’t come here, into my bar, talking about police.”

“I didn’t come in talking about police, I’m just saying—”

“No cops in Yiling.” He shuts a cooler with his heel, a satisfying slam. “Cops are military, and the military hates Yiling.”

Zixuan bristles. “No, we don’t.”

He always does this. It’s one of the things Wei Ying can’t process about him, and one of the reasons they’ve never been close and probably never will be. It’s always “we.” The Jins, the government, the military. Wei Ying can like him if he doesn’t see Jin Guangshan, if he doesn’t see Jin Guangyao, if he doesn’t see the war when he looks at him. But then he comes in with the “we.”

It’s probably sad, actually, how long he’s been a soldier. How much of him is wrapped up in being his dad’s perfect soldier.

Wei Ying bites his tongue, takes a breath. “Of course you do. Everyone in charge hates Yiling.”

“I don’t hate Yiling.” Zixuan is getting stubborn. He looks like A-Ling, almost a pout. “It’s where you live, and you’re my family.”

Wei Ying blinks at him. “I don’t know how to talk to you when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Sincere. All, you know—” he waves an empty bottle around in Zixuan’s face. “Sincere.”

The pout becomes more of a pout. “I’m always sincere.

“Yeah, that’s why we don’t talk.”

Jiang Cheng leans across the bar and snags the rail whiskey bottle to top off his own glass.

“I can beat you up later, if you like,” Zixuan offers.

“Yeah.” Wei Ying doesn’t want to smile, but he does anyway. “Maybe.”

The silence isn’t awkward this time. Wei Ying takes the whiskey bottle back from Jiang Cheng and makes a show of wiping it off with the bleach rag. Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

After a while, Jiang Cheng asks, “Is there something happening here this month? For the five years? Like a memorial or something?” He’s looking away, all careful again.

“Is Lanling doing something?” They look at Zixuan, only slightly accusing on Wei Ying’s part.

“No. I mean December 3 there will be a whole . . . Armistice anniversary.”

“But nothing for Sunshot. Nothing for the massacre I mean,” Wei Ying says.

“I mean, not specifically.” Zixuan licks his lips. “I’m sure it’ll be mentioned.”

“Nothing here, though?” Jiang Cheng asks again.

“Trust me, people around here aren’t the ones that need reminding what you’re— what Lanling is capable of.”

“That’s not fair,” Zixuan says.

Wei Ying looks down at his hands, the mottled brown of them. Flies, flies and dirt and flies and chemicals and flies. “Don’t talk about fair. Not about this.”

Zixuan opens his mouth, but Jiang Cheng shakes his head, violently.

“A-Cheng, it’s not—”

“Stop it.” Jiang Cheng is glaring at him now, the kind of look Wei Ying gets all the time, but Zixuan doesn’t see so much. It makes him stop.

Wei Ying goes to the back and grabs the broom. Jiang Cheng reaches over for the gin bottle and tops off Zixuan’s glass. Wei Ying pretends he doesn’t see it and starts at the far end of the bar. It’s getting slower, people heading out for the night to more exciting places.

A song comes on, something from his college days. He remembers recording it onto a cassette tape from the radio, keeping it in his backpack. Lan Zhan didn’t really like it, but he let Wei Ying play it all the time on his cheap little dorm room stereo.

Wei Ying sings along under his breath as he sweeps. “And if I lied, would you forgive me. Whoa-oh-oh. Fit to be tied, but you still live with me. Oh, whoa-oh-oh.”

“This song,” Zixuan says, smiling a little. “We used to— We used to fight a lot. A-Li and I. Stupid stuff. I was late for dinner. My mom would get so overbearing and we’d fight about that. Her mom would— Well, you know. We’d fight about that. Baby stuff. We didn’t know what to do about baby stuff, so she bought out the whole section of the book store and said we’d divide and conquer. But every book was different, so we’d argue. Dr. Po says this. Well, Dr. Wen says that. She could be so— You’re all so stubborn. Stupid stuff. And we’d be so pissed off we stopped speaking to each other. But I bought her this CD once, not for a birthday or anything, just because. She loved them from way back. And she’d put it on, and we’d dance, and we wouldn’t be mad anymore.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said, clearing his throat. “She liked that sappy shit.”

“Do you play it for A-Ling?” Wei Ying asks.

Zixuan shakes his head. “It makes me sad to hear it. I spend most of my time trying not to be sad around A-Ling.”

Jiang Cheng moves like he’s going to touch him, his arm, his shoulder. He aborts the move and grabs his glass instead, slides it over to tap against Zixuan’s.

“You’re doing good,” he says.

Zixuan looks down, blinking seriously.

“You are,” Wei Ying agrees. “You’re doing good. And you know it pains me to say it.”

Zixuan gives him an echo of a laugh.

“A-Ling is lucky.”

“He’d be luckier if his uncles would visit. Both of them.”

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying say in unison.

“You want me to change the song?” Wei Ying asks.

“No, leave it. It’s good. It’s a nice song.”

An old woman leans on the bar—she’s familiar but Wei Ying can’t remember her name. “Hey, hey, Wei Ying!”

“Yeah, auntie?” he smiles charmingly at her.

“You know my daughter’s coming home soon. December 21.”

“Cheers to that!” he gives her a half-salute.

“I’ll set you up, once she’s home. Just you wait, she’s the prettiest, even now.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She makes that jumpsuit look like runway fashion. Still has her figure, even with the prison food.”

“Can’t wait,” Wei Ying says politely.

“December 21,” the old woman waves her finger at him and heads for the door.

“Invite me to the wedding,” Jiang Cheng teases.

“December 21,” Wei Ying rolls it around in his mouth. “The Wens are coming home.”

Zixuan straightens up. “Really?”

“That’s what we’re celebrating. We don’t celebrate the Massacre, but innocent people coming home? That’s worth it.”

“Innocent is—”

“Zixuan, think about where you are.”

Zixuan nods.

All of the Wens who’d been scooped up post-Sunshot, post-war, those related to rebels or in the wrong place at the wrong time, they’d all been sentenced to five years in prison. “Just to be safe.” The majority came from Yiling, Dafan, other small towns in the West. People who couldn’t afford to run to Lanling, to Gusu, somewhere safe during the worst of the fighting. People who wouldn’t turn their backs on brothers and aunts and cousins in Nightless City.

But five years have almost passed, and the Wens are coming home.

“It’ll be weird, won’t it?” Jiang Cheng asks, diplomatic in his insensitivity.

“A hundred and forty-three people,” Wei Ying says. “At least, that’s how many went in. I’m sure a couple fucked up inside, got their sentences extended.”

“But still.”

“But still,” he agrees.

“Are you going to do something for it? In December?” Jiang Cheng asks him.

“Dunno. I should stock up though, shouldn’t I? I’ll make a note.”

Later, after Jiang Cheng and Zixuan leave for Jiang Cheng’s Yiling sublet—a two bedroom so Zixuan doesn’t have to get his own place in town—Wei Ying sweeps up while Wen Ning flips chairs up on the tables.

“Have you ever gotten over something?” Wei Ying asks him.

“Like what?” Wen Ning stops working and looks at him. He always does that—Wei Ying has always wondered if he had hearing loss as a kid. If he’s talking to you, he always has to stop whatever he’s doing and look at you right in the face.

“I don’t know. But have you ever stood there a second and realized you were over something? Or through something. You know, on the other side?”

Wen Ning thinks for a while, and Wei Ying sweeps around his feet. “School, I guess.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What about you?”

Wei Ying leans down with the dust pan. “I don’t think I’ve ever come out the other side of anything. I think maybe if you stay in something long enough you adapt. Grow gills or whatever, so you can breathe. So you can survive when the world turns unlivable around you. And maybe you aren’t living at all, maybe you’re a stone, or you’re a dead fish with rotten eyes, washed up on the bank of a river that dried up years and years ago.”

Wen Ning still looks at him, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t ask Wei Ying to make sense. It’s what Wei Ying appreciates the most about him.

“So maybe you’re dead, or maybe you’re evolving. Like, maybe that’s just what the world is now, and what you would have previously defined as dead, what you’d look at ten years ago and say that’s a dead thing, maybe that’s just what life looks like now. Evolution.”

Wen Ning nods and picks up a chair. “I think . . . I might be remembering wrong, but I think evolution takes a long time. Like many generations. So maybe you should look at the kids.”

“The kids?”

“Yeah, see if the kids have gills. Or whatever. Whatever you said.”

Wei Ying leans his chin on his broom and watches Wen Ning go table by table, strong and methodical. He sets the chairs so gently on the tabletops that it doesn’t make any noise. He flips them with complete control and lines up the seats.

“Maybe,” Wei Ying says. He goes back behind the bar and turns up the music. There’s work to do before heading home

#assorted writings #pick up every piece #the untamed #cql #mo dao zu shi

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: No Goodbyes

Summary:

"No goodbyes. We'll make it out of here. They had repeated that same promise in the forest only a few days ago over a slow conversation about how life could have been. They had repeated that same promise for years, after strategy meetings, before many missions and while they explored Marley."

Chapter 132 from Levi's POV.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: For Anyarein from AO3.

Don’t hide your fic rec behind those scratchy line things. I’m happy to receive fic ideas and asks (even if I am a little slow with them...)

Thanks for the suggestions for fics <3 ( thanks for indulging my guilty pleasure of high octane angst under the guise of a character study.)

"We've reached the end game."

If Levi hadn’t been looking at her as she said it, if he hadn’t seen the slight movement of her lips and the slight tremble, maybe he would have never heard it. Maybe that half hearted comment would have been drowned out by the sounds of her tearing bandages or the screaming pain that consumed his battered body.

That comment though was enough to send a chill through Levi and down to the bones. The biting cold felt too unfamiliar. It took him a few seconds longer to comprehend what exactly that feeling was.

Frustration. Possibly fear.

He had always been strong. For as long as he could remember, he was always able to fight whatever threats came his way. At that moment when the threats were much larger than he could have ever imagined, when he wished he were at his strongest, he was at his most vulnerable, a cruel twist of fate.

"It's too late to run away to the forest now." He gave Hange a wry smile keeping his tone and his words light, to at least balance out the sullen demeanor of his commander.

His commander. That’s what she had sounded like. With his words, he hoped she would soften her gaze and her tone. It was just the both of them there after all. He knew her inside and out, even before Erwin ever considered her as the next in line to lead the honorable survey corps.

You don't have to pretend with me. He thought to himself, hoping his intent gaze was enough for her to receive the message.

"Yeah, maybe it is..." Hange said a little more lightly as she unwrapped his bandages, a little more roughly than Levi would have liked. "I guess we’re going to have to wait a little longer huh? Before we open that tea shop..."

“Or the herb garden by a cabin.” Levi added. The pain of being so roughly handled took a backseat as Levi felt his throat catch at those words and for a few seconds he was left unable to breathe. The pain in his chest overshadowed whatever protests his body had towards Hange's touch.

From where he lay, he couldn't see Hange's hands but he could see her shoulders shake, and he could see the crown of her head as she avoided his gaze. Levi was sure, at that point her walls had completely broken down.

She was shaking, shaking so hard. Possibly on instinct, he reached out his hand a little farther to grab hers, wherever it was. He gripped it hard as soon as he found it. His own hand burned possibly from having had two of his fingers blown off only a few days ago. There were more important things to do than give his hand the respite it so tenaciously demanded of him.

He had a duty to his commander. No, to his comrade, to his best friend. To his other half.

To his other half.

“I knew you wouldn’t run away,” Levi said.

Hange looked up at him as soon as he had said those words. She furrowed her brow, wrinkled her nose and bit her lip, the result of it all being the faux serious face Levi was all too familiar with.

Hange had always been emotional but since becoming commander, she had started crying less and less. Levi had realized over time that it had never been her own constitution which had made that so. Hange had other ways of holding it in. If she furrowed her brows and crumpled her expression when needed, sometimes the tears never did come. And to the younger members of the survey corps, that unique facial expression had always looked like she was in deep thought on a new diplomatic strategy or battle plan.

Levi knew better though. He had seen that coping mechanism develop over nights alone with her.

“I couldn’t find a way to stop Eren…I can't help but think… Maybe...” She started.

Maybe if Erwin were here? She didn’t need to say it. It was in the way she looked to the side, unable to meet Levi’s gaze as if she knew what she was doing was wrong. She had promised him long before she wouldn’t compare herself to him nor would she compare their current circumstances to that utopian one she had imagined building if Erwin were still there.

Levi quickly hushed her. It was a quiet movement but it was enough to leave his chest burning. He held in a cough, not wanting to aggravate her any further.

“No regrets...” Levi said, as soon as the pain in his chest dissipated enough to allow himself a few words. His throat itched at having to hold in that cough of a while ago. “I told you before.”

“I’m not regretting anything Levi. I promised you I wouldn’t so I won’t.” Hange buried her face in her hands. “But I need to atone.”

Atone. He never believed it to be the right word. Hange had done her best. She sacrificed sleep, meals, rest, mental health days and consequently her own sanity just so things could work out.

In the end, the world had turned out to be much larger and more complex than they could have ever imagined. Hange --- hell, both of them--- the one dubbed humanity’s strongest and possibly the one dubbed humanity’s most intelligent, were left with circumstances that spelled the difference between life and death for millions, circumstances too out of their control.

And you think it’s your fault? He had seen that same flash of guilt show up during the most inopportune times, easily mistaken for a bout of exhaustion on her end and when it was just the two of them, he saw it in the way she would dip her head back up and stare at the empty ceiling, mentioning what Erwin or Moblit would have possibly said or done as nothing more than a passing thought.

But Levi couldn’t tell her off. He couldn’t tell her he hated the word so much that every time she said it, he was forced to bite his lip to keep from saying something he might just regret. Deep within him too, he felt the obligation to atone. He and Hange were the ones after all who had protected and trained Eren.

In the end it had been Eren’s choice to do what he did. Regardless, the nagging thought remained in both of their minds, was there anything they could have done for things to end up different?

No regrets. They had both agreed so many years ago.

“Atone…” The word tasted bitter to Levi but he had to recognize that both of them felt the need too strongly. “Atone after the war… You’ll have time then.” Levi’s hands continued to burn as he lightly pulled at Hange’s hand, an effort to see the face behind it. “We promised right? No goodbyes.”

No Goodbyes

Ever since I joined the survey corps I've had to say nothing but goodbyes.

Levi should have sensed it when Hange had given that speech to Mikasa. Those words dug much deeper than a sermon from a veteran intended to keep Mikasa from killing him or Floch.

Somehow, he only noticed it almost a year later, the first night Hange broke down in front of him after a long meeting with diplomats discussing plans for building ports and adopting technology. During the meeting she was a commander. When everyone had left to retire to their rooms for the night, Hänge had sunk into her chair, so low Levi had feared she would sink so low into the chair she might just disappear.

I can't do this. Moblit would have known how to handle the paperwork. Erwin would have known how to get their confidence. I don't have that charisma.

Did anyone notice I was shaking? Did anyone notice I was just making things up as we went along?

Hange had done great. Yet somehow, her concession of something so unnoticeable scared Levi. That Hange who stood in front of the diplomats explaining her plans for Paradis looked too certain. As her friend and comrade, he started to wonder how much pressure she had put on herself, how much she had to butcher her on psyche to pull off such a facade so convincingly.

Just hold on long enough until the war is over. Until we can fix things with Marley.

No regrets. Levi had given that speech too many times. He was the master at imbibing it and more than anything, at that moment as he held her close and took the force of racking yet muffled sobs, he prayed she felt it too. He prayed that somehow she would imbibe it.

Until we make it out of this. Levi had said. No, we're making it out of this.

It had started with a vow not to regret. As Hange held on to him that night, pulling him closer to herself, as she gripped his shoulders so hard, his own back shook with her racking sobs. Out of what could have been desperation, Levi found himself making another promise with her.

Ever since I joined the survey corps I've had to say nothing but goodbyes. She had repeated to him back then. It had been a year since he had heard that phrase. But ever since they got back from Shiganshina, it had been meeting after meeting, mission after mission, development after development.

She had to break eventually. Of course, it would have been in front of him, the only person who probably felt the gravity of that loss so profoundly, every single loss, from their own squads to their commander. They were the only two people in the squad who were left with little to no time to pick up the pieces, having been launched quickly into seats of both responsibility and power as Paradis rapidly changed.

Levi had his own skeletons and his own emotional baggage to carry. As he watched her breakdown unfold in front of him, his heart could only clench up. He had run out of tears too long ago. His body though, that was starting to scramble for some outlet of emotion, handled it differently.

He clung on to Hange as she cried, letting the shaking motion of her body overshadow his own. No more goodbyes. I’ll be here for a long time. Levi had said.

The next morning, he had regretted those words. No one knows what will happen next. You can trust people all you want but nobody can really predict what will happen next. How many times had that lesson bit him the ass? How many times had he trusted someone only for them to be taken away from him?

It had ended a mutual promise between the two. A promise that had seemed reassuring enough for Hange to have settled in his arms that night. To placate that conflict inside him surrounding the impulsiveness of that decision, Levi only had to remember the way her body had gradually relented to the calmer and slower rhythm of his own breathing.

Levi was never the type to go back on a promise, especially on a promise made to one of the most important people to him, maybe even the most important person to him then, having lost everyone else. He was determined not to break it.

Despite all they had seen, despite their long history as soldiers, Levi and Hange had been too naive. As the situation became more and more dire, Levi would sometimes allow a few seconds a day to scold himself for even entertaining that naivete, particularly in those moments where it was just the both of them stuck in the office, late at night trying to avoid any words that could even allude to goodbyes or regrets

They made that promise in a different world. At that time when they had talked about it, they saw glimmers of hope in the rapidly progressing technology, in their world which was slowly getting larger with every late night meeting, every successful experiment.

At present, Levi was experiencing the world in a body who could barely even move. He was seeing through one eye, the other lost in the explosion. He was on a bed, prone and vulnerable and just outside the ship, he could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling destroy everything in its path and with it, any ambitions for a peaceful compromise.

Hange was the one who had spearheaded the plans for diplomacy, who had clung on most desperately to the hope that the war could all end in peace. She was still healthy and functioning. She was still fit to fight. Yet ironically, her movements had devolved into something mechanical as she cut bandage after bandage and wrapped it around his head. The view of herself she had allowed Levi to see was limited. Even during those few moments where he did get a good look at her, Levi had to risk a bout of dizziness or a headache to bend his head back to see her face. Even under the dim light, he could see they were red rimmed. Red rimmed but lifeless.

We can still make it out of this. No goodbyes. Those were the only words his mind could come up with then that could have maybe brought life back into those hazel eyes. Last time, it had worked. But back then, there weren’t colossal titans trampling the world. Back then, there were still so many other possibilities to consider.

“The bleeding has slowed for most of your injuries. I took out some of the bandages and loosened some of them so it’s more comfortable for you.” Hange said as if she were rattling out of a grocery list.

No. Long ago, Hange probably would have sounded more enthusiastic rattling out a grocery list. The person in front of him didn’t seem like Hange anymore.

“There’s a plane on a nearby port we can take to Eren according to Kiyomi. Hange continued. “We’ll be fuelling the plane and…”

“We?” Levi asked. ‘We’ could have also meant Hange, Levi and everyone else. ‘We’ could have meant Hange and everyone else without him. Somehow, he could tell by the face Hange had given him and the tone of her voice, a tone of defeat and acceptance of their grim reality that she had meant the latter.

“I saw the bruises Levi, you might even be suffering from internal bleeding. Until we can get you to a doctor…. Please stay back here on the ship…” Please don’t fight.

Levi did not have the time to argue. He had spent a second too long thinking of the right words to say as he processed Hange’s incomprehensible actions.

She was ready to die. By the time he had stumbled upon an explanation for her actions, her expressions and gestures that quickly vacillated between empathy and apathy, it had already been too late.

No Goodbyes right? He had wanted to say. Those words never left his mouth though. On their way out, he had felt arms crush him so hard, only a hushed breath was able to make its way out of his mouth.

She wasn’t crushing him. In fact, she had only been holding him a little harder. The force though was more than enough to send a crushing pain coursing through his already battered bones. The pain was stinging on the surface but at the same time piercing deep within him. It coursed through him so quickly and so violently, Levi had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a sound.

For god knows, if she knew how painful it was she might just let go.

No goodbyes. We'll make it out of here. They had repeated that same promise in the forest only a few days ago over a slow conversation about how life could have been. They had repeated that same promise for years, after strategy meetings, before many missions and while they explored Marley.

What if diplomacy did work? What if the threats of rumbling where enough to make Marley reconsider the treatment of Eldians? What if this could all end without any bloodshed?

What if maybe there was still some sliver of hope to cling to? No goodbyes. Levi only repeated that same line to himself again and again. Although she had let go for a bit, giving enough space for Levi to breathe, the knot in his throat that extended all the way down to his stomach had taken over suffocating him.

No goodbyes right? He started to scream those words in his head, still unable to say them aloud. That shouldn’t have mattered though. She usually knew what he was thinking. If he thought it loudly enough, it should reach her like it always did.

He screamed in his mind, clinging to hope that the message would reach her. His body knew otherwise. All he could do was wait and listen for what Hange had to say next.

Thank you. Hange’s last words to him weren’t words of farewell. Just like they had promised each other long ago. No goodbyes.

Hange left him alone in the plain room with only one dim light on. Levi was left with nothing much to do but stare at his plain surroundings, the only stimuli worth considering being the final words she had said to him.

Thank you for always being there. Thank you for staying with me after meetings. Thank you for letting me bounce ideas with you. Thank you for the late night conversations.

Thank you. Hange was not one for phatic expressions. At least when she was with him. Had she ever said thank you? She was his own commander, there was no need to. When they were alone, there were too many other things to discuss. Padding their heart to heart conversations with pleasantries had never seemed necessary.

She had kept her promise but as Levi lay in bed and stared at the blank ceiling, recalling the exchange of only a few minutes ago, he couldn’t help but think, he would have preferred a goodbye.

No Goodbyes

Levi valued promises. He kept the promise he had made to Hange close to his heart and he felt all the more determined to make sure she kept it too.

Maybe that was what had pushed him to stand up even as his joints ached, his bones screamed and his head spun. That determination inside him only pulled him out of the bed more violently, drilling into him the possibility that maybe not doing anything could be more painful.

And it worked. When Levi was in bed, his body felt this impulse to shake his broken bones awake, to punish them for wanting to pull him back from the war. Hange couldn’t keep that promise alone, she needed his help. Omission seemed like the more evil option.

That was how Levi had found himself, walking painfully towards the voices in the other room. That was how he had found himself refusing Armin’s help, forcing his body through a crash course on relearning how to walk and sooner than later, to fight.

Fuck it. Even his body couldn’t relearn to walk and fight so quickly, he’d force it too. He had more than enough memories and experience fighting, it would be a matter of discipline more than anything else.

That was what had him testing his ODM gear with the fingers he had left. Two fingers is all I need.

Hange had kept quiet since then, not bringing up the conversation of a while ago. He could see in the glances that she snuck him while she faced the alliance as a commander that she wished he were elsewhere.

That’s a first. Levi had to note. Before, she would seek comfort in the many moments they did exchange glances. Then, she looked uncomfortable.

It could have been his injuries. It could have also been those last words she said.

She kept her promise. Yet she was starting to avoid his gaze as she reminisced of old friends, in ways that only reminded Levi of another loss they had felt long ago.

With the rumbling nearing, with the appearance of Floch and with the breaking of the fuel tank, they could not allow themselves a few more minutes to ponder that promise in silence.

Levi wasn’t there when Hange had made that decision. By the time, he was near enough to make eye contact, to get a near enough look of her expression a mixture of fear, guilt and acceptance. It was too late.

Just let me go. Will you?

We promised. No goodbyes. No regrets. Levi looked towards the ground as he thought about it. He had tried to send her that silent reminder too many times that day already. Back then, he had hoped it would reach her.

As he heard the rumbling only get nearer, he started to realize there were things much larger and more permanent than superficial and temporal promises.

A part of him could only interpret the promise they made as having been broken. For a while he wanted to say goodbye out of spite.

Levi was never the type of person to break a promise though.

“Dedicate your heart.”

I don’t regret anything but I feel like I still need to atone for it. Hange had said it so many times before during the many times they had briefly mentioned it and the few times they had analyzed it. Hange had always planned on atoning somehow, for all that chaos she had believed herself to have been to unfit to stop.

As if it wasn’t anybody else’s mistakes and selfishness that had brought upon that chain of events.

Levi allowed himself to gradually shift his thoughts elsewhere as he boarded the plane. HIs broken bones were still screaming for attention. His bruises were still sending jolts up his spine with every movement. His fingers were throbbing at the weight of the ODM gear.

Any pain, any sensation and any experience could have been more palatable, could have been more bearable than what he had felt as he pressed his hand into her heart. He couldn’t think about her anymore or he risked collapsing right there.

There was one final passing thought Levi allowed himself though as he had settled onto his seat in the plane. It was the last thought about Hange he would allow himself before he turned off all his emotions, shifting his thoughts to the larger problem at hand.

You can’t ever atone without feeling regret. Levi couldn’t help but think, despite the bond they shared that had made feelings between them flow so smoothly in ways words never did, there may have been some fatal misunderstanding between them about what those two promises meant.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction #fanfic

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