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gukyi · 4 years

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the heiress and the hotelier | ksj

summary: when you share a kiss with a mysterious but gorgeous stranger on the night of your unwanted, lavish masquerade birthday party, the last thing you expect is for him to vanish at midnight on the dot. but when, as punishment for always arguing with him, your father assigns you to oversee the company’s newest resort hotel, you begin to realize that the handsome stranger may be closer than you think.

{cinderella!au, heiress reader!au, hotelier seokjin!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol consumption (nothing major), workaholic characters, face blindness, idiots to lovers a/n: hello and welcome to guyi is a nonstop writer!! that’s the fuck right !!!! thank you so much to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me for this (again!) and for being genuinely wonderful. happy birthday! oh--and i’ll be on a socially-distanced vacation this upcoming week, so i’ll be a little more inactive than usual, but here’s this fic to keep you occupied while i’m gone!

Your birthdays have never belonged to you.

Not when you were little, when your mother was always the most excited for you to open your presents and host your birthday party. Not when you were older, and your parents started using your age as a reason for you to start learning the inner workings of the family business under the understanding that you would one day inherit it. And certainly not when you’re an adult, when all your birthdays ever remind you of are the years gone by, blowing past you like dandelion wisps, glimpses of memories that are too nimble to catch between your fingertips.

When people say that time goes by faster as you get older, they aren’t saying it because your life is getting exponentially more interesting with each day that passes. They aren’t saying it because you’re having more fun or doing more things, things that distract you to the point of looking out your window and realizing that it’s dark outside.

They say it because the more years that you have lived, the more years you have to remember. And when you have to recall something as overwhelming as your life, your brain makes shortcuts. The days, weeks, and months blur together, leaving behind snippets from events that your memory deems worthy, events that have become less and less frequent with time. You can’t remember the last major celebration you had. Perhaps your university graduation?

The thing about birthdays is that you know that there will always be one next year. So why bother with celebrating now?

You would give anything to have everyone pretend that your birthday is just a normal day.

Unfortunately for you, you are the only one in your family who seems to have adopted this mindset.

Heaving out a sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror, reflection bathed in the white light of the bathroom, stark and unforgiving. In the merciless glow of the bathroom, you barely recognize yourself. Gone are the deep eye bags that you’ve so dearly acquainted yourself with, tired eyes covered with contacts to bring back the shimmer that has long been lost. You gaze into your eyes and they don’t even feel like they’re yours anymore.

In your hand sits the masquerade mask you had ripped off the moment you entered the bathroom, having been desperate to take it off from the minute you arrived at the hotel. The feathers brush against your skin, soft and black, a custom-made accessory designed to match your gown, an ink black floor-length piece with onyx gems that sparkle silver in the light.

Hoseok was going for a black swan theme—said that it would match your personality perfectly. You’re not exactly sure what he meant by that.

Frantically, like there is a timer ticking down inside of you that you cannot turn off, you pull the mask back on, adjusting it over your eyes until it sits just right, resting atop the bridge of your nose. Hiding behind it, you can almost deceive yourself into thinking, if only for this one night, you are someone else.

The door swings open next to you, revealing a guest that you don’t recognize, someone on the list of hundreds that your mother invited, none of whom you know very well and could certainly not identify beneath a masquerade mask. She smiles in that polite, awkward way as she rushes into a stall, deep maroon train trailing behind her, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place, having no desire to go back out into the fray but also not wanting to stay in the bathroom and listen to other people do their business.

Thank God she didn’t recognize you. Your mother was insistent that you be recognized as the guest of honor despite the whole point of a masquerade party being the inability to correctly identify people, so you might as well be walking around in a t-shirt with your face on it. At least the mask is doing something.

You blink at yourself, hoping that maybe if you close your eyes enough, when you open them you’ll be someone else. When that doesn’t seem to work, you take a breath and fix your mask one last time before heading back into the ballroom.

Immediately, amongst the crowd of people, all of whom are only here to elevate their own statuses by being associated with an event hosted by your family, you spot the back of Jungkook’s head, deep brunette tufts of hair deftly styled by a whole team of people, a slicked back, Phantom of the Opera style. He’s got on a tuxedo and mask to match, but even with that on you could recognize him in your sleep. He is your brother, after all.

He’s talking animatedly with the pianist, an old mutual friend of your family’s named Yoongi, who isn’t wearing a mask and is thus immediately identifiable. Not to mention the fact that your family has known his since before you learned to walk. As you get closer to them, you notice that his maskless-ness is because Jungkook’s got it snatched up in between his fingers, dangling it in front of Yoongi like the taunting claw of a rigged toy machine. You decide not to bother them. He’s always been closer with Jungkook, anyway.

You really wish your mother better understood what a masquerade-themed party meant. You can’t get more than three steps in before being stopped by someone you can hardly recognize, all smiles for the birthday girl. They wish you a happy birthday and give you a lifeless compliment that goes in one ear and out the other before going on their way, positively thrilled that they’ve been invited to an event as grand as this and determined to make the most of it.

Eventually, after far too many interruptions, you make it to the catering table, helping yourself to a piece of the five-tiered, golden-iced cake your parents had ordered. At least they got your favorite flavor right—chocolate and vanilla swirl. You wait happily beside the rest of the catered food as you eat, hoping that you are just out of reach enough to go unnoticed. The least your birthday party guests could do is leave you alone.

“Y/N!”

Never mind.

You look up to the source of the sound and find only your father approaching, all dressed up in a crisp suit from the same tailors that made Jungkook’s. He isn’t wearing a mask and apparently doesn’t need one, since it is your birthday and not his. Not a good enough excuse, in your opinion.

“Dad,” you say with a smile, wiping away the icing you feel sitting just off the corner of your lips.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asks heartily, all smiles because he’s always felt rather at home surrounded by this sort of grandeur, almost as much as your mother. No wonder the two of them get along so well.

“The cake is nice,” you dodge the question.

“Ah, glad you like it,” he says, helping himself to his own piece. “We were going to get red velvet but then Jungkook reminded us your favorite flavor was the swirly one,” he laughs to himself, like it’s funny that they almost got it wrong. “Had to call the bakery last minute and change it.”

You purse your lips together in a tense smile, fork picking at the crumbs left on your plate.

“Have you been chatting with your friends?” He asks.

“Here and there,” you respond. Nobody here, except perhaps Jungkook and Yoongi, would be people you considered friends. Acquaintances at best. And besides, it’s not like you can even identify half of the attendees anyway. “You?” You always do much better when the topic of conversation is not your social life.

“Ah, yes, of course, you know me,” he jokes, always the aristocrat. “I was just speaking with Mr. Oh about that corporate investment deal that I had been arranging with him.”

“Dad,” you say, exasperated, “You know that I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Y/N,” he says, already beginning to get frustrated. You and him have shared this conversation countless times already. “You aren’t the final decision maker. You know that.”

“Yes, but you value my input, don’t you?” You challenge. He nods tensely. “So listen to me. I don’t think this deal will be good for us. Even though the Oh’s have more money in their investments, they aren’t transparent with it. If you make this deal you won’t know where our money is going.”

“Nonsense,” your father rebukes. “Mr. Oh and I have known each other for years. I trust him. You’re just saying this because you don’t like their son.”

“Sehun has nothing to do with this,” you argue, even if it is true. Your mother had set you up on a blind date with him a couple of years ago and from the moment he walked through the door, you knew it would go south. He’s got the same conceited attitude his father has. “I don’t think it’s a wise business decision.”

“You mustn’t let personal grievances get in the way of your work and you know that,” your father commands sternly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. “What will you do when you are the CEO of Jeon Group? Are you going to let pettiness get in the way of major advancements for the company?”

“No!” You insist, though you are far too gone for your father to believe you.

“This deal is happening and that’s final, Y/N,” your father declares harshly, eyes narrowed at you.

“But, Dad—”

“I don’t want to hear another word from you about this,” he directs. “You should know better than to argue with me about this sort of thing. Especially here. Your mother worked very hard on putting this party on for you, and you should be grateful.”

You exhale, incensed. “I am, Dad, but the business means more to me than—”

“Stop. You can’t change my mind.” Your father sets his finished plate down on a cart an arm’s length away, piled high with discarded dishes, glasses and utensils. “Go talk with your friends instead.” You frown at him, nose scrunched up in contempt. He gestures you away from him. “Go.”

Sighing, you wipe away the sweat that has gathered along your temples and go back out into the center of the ballroom, watching begrudgingly as your father steers you from him, having deemed your conversation over even if you weren’t finished talking. It’s obvious that there’s no more getting through to him. Unless all of the Ohs are suddenly arrested for embezzling funds or mail fraud, that deal is happening.

Standing in the middle of the room, you turn around once and you’re immediately lost amongst all of the guests, surrounded by people everywhere you look. You turn back to where your father was standing but he’s vanished, and when you turn the other way, Jungkook has disappeared from beside the grand piano as well. It feels like you’re outnumbered, like you’re trapped in a maze of people with no end in sight, like one wrong move and suddenly they will all turn to look at you, stare you down like camera lenses, relentless flashes of light. Nobody to talk to, nowhere to run.

You’re stuck.

Now that you think about it, you sort of always have been.

The room gets blurrier.

“Hey, are you alright?” A voice asks.

You feel like you spin around several times before your eyes focus in on the man it belongs to.

“Here, come on, let’s get out of here.”

Your feet move against your mind’s better judgement, the man ushering you away from the center of the room and out of the crowd. You barely notice the direction he’s taking you in until you feel the cool late night air blow past you, tickling your skin and sending shivers down your spine.

It’s the balcony.

The glass door shuts behind the two of you, sending a stream of wind against your back as it effectively removes all of the background noise of the party, containing it within the ballroom, leaving the both of you shrouded in the stars’ silence.

Out here, you have a perfect view of the city. Even though it’s nearing midnight, the lights are still on, coating the town in a twinkling glow, yellow lights flickering on and off, as if someone were looking at the universe from far beyond it. Some parts of the city go to sleep when the sun sets. Others are just waking up.

Next to you, the man removes his suit jacket and drops it ceremoniously on the floor at his feet, arms resting on the balcony’s railing as he gazes out into the distance. As you look out into the same deep navy sky, it’s almost as if the rest of the night has faded away. You don’t know who he is and you can only hope that he doesn’t know you either, hope that he has rescued you from the crowd to talk you down rather than talk you up. But you don’t miss the way he hasn’t said a word to you since you stepped foot outside, hasn’t dared to initiate contact just in case you were looking for a respite from all of it.

At this angle, you can turn your head just enough to get a good look at him, at the way half of his face is enveloped in shadow while the other half is letting the moonlight do all of the talking. From here, the light from the full moon is faint, a barely-there silver glow, but it casts him in just enough light to make him seem as though he belongs in a dream. Like he isn’t even real. It highlights the sharpness of his jaw, the peaks of his cheekbones, his round button nose. But what it really makes gleam are his eyes, almost pitch black in the night. They reflect the sky like nothing else, glimmers of faint starlight in an ocean of ink.

Quite frankly, you wouldn’t mind staying like this for the rest of the night.

“Thank you.” You breathe out the words and immediately feel his gaze jerk sharply towards you. “For getting me out of there.”

“Of course,” he says, and oh, goodness, his voice is thick and warm and comforting, like a fireplace on a cool night, like a blanket after a nightmare. “You just seemed like you needed a break.”

“You could say that,” you say, shrugging to yourself. You could use more than a break. A general pause on life is something you certainly wouldn’t object to—if only it was that easy. But hey, you take what is given to you and never miss an opportunity if you can help it. There’s a lot that you can (and do) complain about but even more than you should be grateful for. Your father was right. This party took a lot of planning on your mother’s part and you spent half of it in the bathroom wishing you were anywhere but here.

“A lot on your plate?” He asks with a smile, a real one, one that isn’t forced like everybody else. Almost like he’s smiling because he’s actually enjoying himself.

“I feel like it’s endless,” you say, keeping it vague because, as it stands, this gorgeous man does not know who you are, and you would like to keep it that way.

“As is all of life,” he says sagely, almost as if it’s a reminder to himself as well. You wonder what he must have on his mind. You wonder if it’s worth sharing your life with a stranger. “It looked like you had a lot on your mind back in there.” He gestures weakly back towards the door.

“I have a lot on my mind no matter where I am,” you correct, and you try to make it sound funny but instead it just comes out sounding sad. Normally you wouldn’t be cracking jokes at your expense in front of someone whose name you don’t even know, but you had a couple of drinks tonight and the taste is still fresh on your tongue, sitting alongside all of the words you want to say but don’t know how to.

The man leaves it at that, not wanting to push any further, but you aren’t finished yet. Someone might as well know how you feel, since you bottle it up around everyone else.

“Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?” You turn to look at him, heaving out a sigh. He doesn’t say anything, simply gazes back at you, like he’s willing you to carry on. It, in a way, worries you. “Ugh. I feel ridiculous saying it out loud.”

There’s a tense, pregnant pause between the two of you. It makes you feel like talking was a mistake.

“It’s not ridiculous.” It almost sounds like the words are coming from someone else. Like this whole thing is just a figment of your imagination, created by your mind to keep you company because there’s no one else to turn to.

He’s staring out over the balcony now, waiting for you to continue.

“I don’t know,” you say, feeling utterly idiotic, like a fish out of water. “Sometimes I just wish that I could go somewhere else and be someone else and not have to worry about all of the things in my life. Things like my family, and my work. There are so many things that people expect of me. All the time. It feels like I’m living for them instead of myself.”

He nods along, holding back to see if you have anything else to say. You must sound like such an ungrateful little rich girl, you think to yourself. Complaining about this fabulous party and incredible life that you live, a life filled with wealth and grandeur and power, a life that most people dream of having. What will he think of you?

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. “I probably sound like such a spoiled brat.”

“You don’t,” he immediately assures you, taking a step to his right and closing the gap between you two. “It doesn’t sound like that at all.”

“Then what does it sound like?” You muse to yourself, forcing a laugh.

“It sounds like you have a lot that you feel like you owe to other people,” he says organically. “You know, like you feel like you have to do all of these things because you can’t let other people down. I get it. I know that everyone nowadays is all, ‘You shouldn’t give a shit about what other people think of you, just do whatever you want,’ but it’s hard not to think about what other people think of you. And what other people expect from you. Letting them down sucks.”

You chuckle. Sounds about right. You may not be completely satisfied with your life right now but that doesn’t mean you’re going to fling your responsibilities onto the shoulders’ of other people. Your father works hard, your mother works hard, your brother works hard. The least you could do for them is offer up the same diligence.

“You’re quite the smooth talker,” you joke, looking him up and down and nodding your approval. He’s definitely figured you out, at least.

“I’m just a people person,” the man admits. “I like talking with people.”

“And here I was, thinking that I’d be confessing my secrets to a brick wall,” you say, making him crack a smile, another real one. You like the look of them. A part of you wants to do it more often.

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

You’ve been listening to compliments all night but this one makes the heat rush to your cheeks like nothing else, a fire set alight in your veins.

“That’s a secret, is it?” You ask, suddenly feeling shy, looking all around you just so you don’t have to look him in his eyes and feel your legs turn to jelly.

“Not anymore,” he reminds you. “What about you? Anything else to share with me?” He’s standing dangerously close to you now, barely half a foot of space between your bodies as he leans into you, hands hovering above your waist.

Slowly he begins to tilt his head towards you, and while you’ve never been one for dramatics, you have to admit that you haven’t felt this way since your schoolgirl crush days back when you were a teenager, giddy and electric and desperately craving more.

You watch as his lips flutter above yours, feel transparent underneath his steel gaze, and you say, “I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

The fireworks thing had always been over the top for you. Like it was impossible for a kiss to feel that explosive to anyone, setting you alight over and over and over again. But his lips pressed against yours come pretty damn close. It makes your whole body go weak, like you can barely hold yourself up, hands clutching onto his sleeves just to make sure you don’t go topping off the balcony. He kisses you and you swear that you would never do this sort of thing normally—go about your romantic interests like a professional, a couple of dates and then perhaps a kiss on your doorstep—but goddamn, it feels like you might just give up everything for him. It feels like there are sparks running all across your skin, sending jolts of life into your heart. It feels like he is someone you are going to miss.

It lasts too long and ends too quickly all at once. You distantly hear the party celebrate the clock striking twelve indoors, cheers and screams and shouts as people rally themselves to continue long after the mark of a new day, and feel him pull away from you at the very same instant. Shamelessly, you instinctively reach up to try and meet his lips again, refusing to believe it’s over, but already he’s separating himself from you.

“Hey, what’s wrong—?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing, I promise,” the man says, the words barely registering in your kiss-drunk haze. He scoops up his jacket from the floor and immediately begins to head back inside. “I just have to go, really. It’s nothing.”

You freeze, mouth agape. “Wait, I don’t even know your—”

“It was really nice meeting you, I hope that we can see each other again!” He pulls open the door with one final grin, one beautiful, brilliant smile, and then suddenly, he’s gone.

You feel the rush of wind blow against your skin, holding you hostage on the balcony as you stare at the closed door, almost like he had never been here at all.

It wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. He was real, and he was here, and then he was right in front of you, his hands were on your waist, his lips were on your lips. And still, it’s almost as if it never even happened.

You blink back at the door, trying to convince yourself that you are still awake, that you haven’t gone mad with loneliness, when you feel yourself step on something.

It’s his mask. A plain, black one with a couple of decorative touches. The string meant to secure it to his face is broken, having probably snapped in half in his rush to leave, leaving it as the only reminder that you didn’t dream up the entire ordeal to begin with.

You reach down to pick it up, letting it rest between your fingertips, and you laugh. Here you are, having fallen for a man whose name you don’t know and whom you don’t think you’ll ever see again, the only piece left you have of him being a broken, forgotten masquerade mask. Like the worst rendition of Cinderella ever.

Leaning back over the balcony, you sigh, resigning yourself to the fact that even if tonight was more eventful than you thought it would be, you will have to get up tomorrow morning and go to work, just the same.

And you suppose that that really is what the man was talking about when he said life was endless.

It’s not that it has no end. It’s just that it doesn’t really feel like you’re ever beginning something new.

You wake up in a cold sweat and are convinced you dreamt of the whole thing until you see the mask sitting on your chest of drawers, grounding you back to reality.

You wonder what it is about him, about last night, that so easily deceives you into thinking it never happened. Perhaps it was the time, or the alcohol on your tongue, or how storybook the whole thing felt, from the talking to the kissing to the disappearing into the night. Or perhaps it was the fact that you can’t remember the last time someone made you feel the way that he made you feel, can’t remember the last time someone kissed you like he did. Like your brain was convinced it would just never happen.

At least you know that there’s still a little hope for you.

A part of you almost thinks that, for the rest of time, you won’t be able to think of anything but the mystery man and his excellent kissing skills. Even the morning after, the tingling feeling on your lips still lingers like lint on a blazer, like a scar that won’t fade. It feels like it won’t ever go away, dancing along your lips every time you look in a mirror. You hardly remember anything else about that night besides him, besides talking to him, besides his lips on yours.

You continue to live in this post-kiss bliss for another ten minutes as you help yourself to breakfast and hum a mindless tune. Then your phone lights up.

“Hey, Dad!” You say cheerfully, practically bouncing on your feet.

“Y/N,” he says gruffly. “You haven’t left for work yet, have you?”

“Nope,” you say, stuffing a spoonful of Honey Nut Cheerios into your mouth. “Why? Do you need me to bring something?”

“Actually, Y/N, you won’t be coming to the office today.” His tone is stern and sharp, no-nonsense. The same way he speaks to interns who have fucked up.

Oh, no.

“What do you mean?” You ask, trying to keep your tone positive even though you already know you’re toast.

“I’m assigning you to watch over the new resort hotel at the edge of the city.” Your father has never been known to beat around the bush.

“What?” You gasp out, shocked. “Dad, you know that I—”

“You wanted more independence and more input in decision-making, didn’t you?” He says pointedly, a reminder of last night.

“Yes, but I—”

“Good,” he declares. “This resort is going to be your responsibility and I want to see that you are doing well with the tasks at hand.”

“Dad, that sounds good, but you know I much prefer more corporate responsibilities—”

“And at this resort, you will have that,” he informs you. “It’s high time you take on your own tasks instead of doing the ones that I hand down to you. I expect to see this resort flourish.” You don’t understand his logic. Isn’t he literally handing you an entire resort to oversee? A brand new one, too?

“But wouldn’t you rather manage such a new hotel? What if it starts to encounter deficits?” You plead, a final attempt to get him to take your name off of this project so you can go back to doing what you’re used to instead of being flung a brand new resort you definitely aren’t keen on overseeing.

“Then I should hope to see you solve them quickly,” he clips, effectively dissolving any hope you had that he would change his mind. Normally, you love your father’s typical hands-off approach when it comes to business, usually because it allows you to gain working experience without him carrying you every step of the way, but right now, you just wish he was more of a selfish businessman. For once, it would actually work out quite well for you.

“Dad—”

“I’ll be checking in.”

He hangs up.

Standing in the middle of your kitchen, you huff, nose scrunched up and eyebrows furrow as you try to think your way out of this. Getting through to your father is impossible, getting through to your mother, even more so. She’s always preferred to stick to philanthropy, anyway, having zero interest in what you and your father do. You scowl to yourself, already beginning to run out of options. Is your list really that short? Who else in your family could help?

Suddenly, you smack your head, shocked at how forgetful you’ve been. You grab your phone from where it sits on the counter and dial his number.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks from the other end, voice still groggy. At least he gets to sleep in.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you say, sighing out your hello to sound more casual.

“What’s up?” He asks in between yawns.

“Listen, Dad just assigned me to oversee that new resort hotel on the beach just outside of town,” you say economically. You’ve always gotten straight to the point with your brother. It’s the only reason the two of you aren’t constantly at each other’s necks anymore.

“Really? That’s awesome!” Jungkook says excitedly, voice jumping up half an octave.

“I mean…” You begin, because it’s really… not.

“This probably means that Dad’s going to retire soon, don’t you think? Since he’s giving you such a big responsibility, right?” Jungkook asks, a suggestion that nearly sends you into a coughing fit at the mere thought of it. Retirement?

“You think so?” You ask, a little terrified.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook says, and you can hear his nonchalant shrug through the phone. “Maybe. He has been talking a lot recently about what’s going to happen when you take over the company.”

“Don’t you want that same responsibility, though?” Jungkook has never been treated as a business equal the same way you have, despite having the same expensive education as you and being much better with people. You’ve always wondered if that’s bothered him.

“Not really,” Jungkook tells you, and you can hear the familiar log-in sound of his computer in the background. “I mean, I’ve always known you were going to inherit the company. This sort of thing just makes sense to me.”

You frown to yourself. “You don’t want to be involved with the business at all?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jungkook says with a sigh, voice still groggy. “I’m happy that I’m getting the work experience and everything. But it’s just never something I’ve seen as part of my future.”

Mostly because it’s always been yours.

The fact of the matter is that Jungkook, even if he is younger, and a little more rambunctious, and a little bit more impulsive, has always been the better candidate to take over the family business. He excels at task-driven jobs and has charmed the pants off of everyone he’s ever met, from Yoongi to your florist to the nice woman at the customer service counter at your local grocery store. He’s a quick decision-maker and never second-guesses himself. He also has zero problems with his love life and potential partners, something that your parents are desperate for you to figure out. He’s perfect for the position.

So why are you the heir?

“What, are you just going to livestream video games for a living, then?” You ask snarkily, already knowing that he’s sat at his desk, ready for another match.

“Probably. I could probably double the family’s fortune, you know,” he says, and he’s right. What he does is equally as profitable as what you do, and he gets bonus points because it’s something that he genuinely enjoys.

“You better get started then, gamer boy,” you say, hearing his bubbly laugh echo through the phone before you hang up.

Jungkook would take over the resort hotel management if you asked, and you know it. He’s got the experience and the expertise to do it flawlessly, no questions asked. But he won’t, because you won’t ask that of him. Because even if you don’t want to do it, it is better you than him. Someone in this family deserves to do what they love for a living. And nobody deserves that more than him.

The Honey Nut Cheerios slosh around in the milk in the bowl in front of you. You aren’t very hungry anymore.

Your father has always had an eye for design, a trait he never seemed to pass on to you. It’s no wonder why he’s the one the architectures and interior decorators run everything by while you manage the finances. It’s something your mother always says she loves about him. So, even if you are assigned to oversee a resort hotel that you have zero interest in whatsoever, at least it looks nice.

“Whoa, this place is fancy,” Hoseok says, gasping as the two of you step out of the car beneath the golden awning that covers the hotel entrance. There are little lights lining the structure, something to bathe the canopy in a sparkling glow when the sun says goodbye for the day, light it up like stars in the night sky.

“You’ve been to my house, this is nothing,” you say with a shrug, making him laugh as the doors open for you, carpet plush and hardly touched. From what you read in the file your father sent you, this place hasn’t been open for more than two weeks.

It looks like it’s barely been occupied.

The security guard, a gruff, stout man, nods a hello to you as you enter.

“Uh, your house doesn’t have security guards,” Hoseok whispers into your ear as you pass him, pointing rather conspicuously to the man behind you. “Your dad really went all out on this one.”

You huff, gritting your teeth. Good thing it’s not an eyesore, otherwise you don’t think you’d last a week here. “Well, he’s always loved the beach.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” Hoseok lilts, whistling as he gazes away from you, guilty.

You smack him with the back of your hand in the middle of his torso. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, backing off even though he knows he’s the only person (well, besides Jungkook) who can get away with saying that sort of thing in front of you. “You two have always been polar opposites, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, say it in your head,” you sulk, hitting him again so that he straightens up. You both have a duty to make a good first impression, though Hoseok’s red suit is doing half of the work for him.

As you enter, all of the staff behind the desk scramble to get to their positions, hands together neatly in front of them as you peer over your wire-rimmed glasses to get a good look at the place. It’s clean, elegant, with touches of luxury here and there, a golden coffee table, an accent along the lining of the walls. It smells faintly of lemon and mostly of the ocean, a scent you are going to have to get used to. Everything seems to be in order.

You stroll up the front desk, eyeing everything closely. Behind it, the three employees currently on front-desk duty wait patiently for you to speak. Their names are written in capital letters on gold-plated tags, pinned to the pockets of their blazers. You nod as you memorize their names. Irene, Seohyun, and Seokjin.

Seokjin looks positively wide-eyed, flabbergasted to be seeing you, to be standing in front of you. There’s this faint sort of recognition on his face, like he’s just realized something life-altering, and he’s doing a rather poor job of hiding it. Perhaps he’s just starstruck.

“Well, we might as well get the introductions over with,” you declare, clapping your hands together. The sound makes the three of them jump. “If you didn’t know, I’m Y/N, and I’ll be overseeing this hotel for the foreseeable future. So let’s get along well together. For all of our sakes.”

They nod, polite smiles on their faces.

“Which one of you is the hotelier?” You ask, looking between the three of them. Your father had written it down in that file somewhere but quite frankly, you were so exasperated that you had been assigned the hotel that you hadn’t really looked it over properly.

“That would be me,” the man, Seokjin, says with a tense, small little grin, nodding his head when you turn to face him. He looks strikingly familiar, this sort of picturesque nostalgia that you can’t quite place, angles sharp in the bright light of the hotel. You wonder where you’ve seen it before. Possibly in some magazine or at an event. He certainly is worthy of being photographed.

“Excellent,” you declare happily. “Then you’re on my staff, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I just received word about that last night,” he affirms.

“Wonderful,” you say, fingers tapping against the granite countertops. “I can tell that this will all go smoothly, so long as we all make sure to stay on task. Sounds good?”

“Of course, Miss Jeon,” Seokjin says.

“Please, call me Y/N. I do hate formalities,” you request. “So, shall we get started? I trust that you all know exactly what you’re doing. But I would like to receive a few updates here and there about the goings-on here. Mostly, I would like all total daily income numbers to be faxed to my office, transcripts of all of the customer service requests, and an updated menu. The pizza is far too cheap and the lobster just as expensive. How’s that for a starting list?”

“Would you like those numbers in an Excel sheet or graphed?” Irene asks, eyebrows raised.

“Both,” you answer. She and Seohyun get right to work, leaving you feeling confident that this won’t be a complete train wreck. “Seokjin, you are with me.” You gesture for him to come out from behind the desk, and begin to walk around the lobby of the hotel, hoping to put some distance between you two and the other employees. He stays a solid two feet behind you the entire time, taking quick, short steps so he doesn’t dare start to catch up.

“How can I help, Miss Jeon?” He asks, eyes wide.

You smile, shaking your head. “I told you that Y/N is fine. In any case, since you are the hotelier, I will need a little more from you.” He nods. “First, I need a summary of all expenses and income since you opened, preferably in Excel and formatted cleanly. I’ll also need a list of all of the employees, their respective positions, and their salaries. It would be great if we could begin to eliminate the part-time slots and allow the employees to become full-time so that they receive the same benefits as you and I. I’ll also need information on their schedules.”

You notice he isn’t writing any of this down, simply bobbing his head as you lift off everything you want and a few things that you’re throwing in just so you don’t have to do them.

“I assume that you don’t have constant contact with my father, but I don’t mind being the messenger in regards to hotel infrastructure and design. Any and all malfunctions should also be reported to me. It would also be great if we could maybe lose the curtains in the lobby. I think they close up the room. But, your choice.” You narrow your eyes, looking around to see if there’s anything else that needs urgent attention, when you see Hoseok already beginning to hunt through the concessions room, picking up bags of different themed Jelly Belly. “I think that should be enough for now. Update me whenever possible, please.”

“You got it,” Seokjin says, heading back to the desk as quickly as he had walked away from it, concentration washing over his features. It does, at least, bring you comfort that nobody seems particularly incompetent.

Behind you, you can hear Hoseok muttering a few things at the front desk, most likely having to do with you and your attitude. But you don’t think it’s that big of a deal. You’ve always been work-oriented. It’s always been your biggest focus. Lingering in the lobby, you gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the entrance, the slick, newly-paved asphalt, the tropical flowers that surround it. You have always preferred a city to a beach, but at least the time might pass quicker here with people who know how to do their jobs.

Perhaps this might not be so bad after all.

Then, your phone vibrates in your pants pocket.

“Mom,” you greet, surprised that she’s calling you during work. “Hey, how are you?”

“Wonderful!” She shrieks, always the energizer. “Your father told me all about how he assigned you to oversee that new resort. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thanks,” you respond, lifeless.

“You know, you have a lot of responsibility now,” she reminds you, as if you had already forgotten how much work goes into supervising something like this. “Directing a hotel and its staff is a big deal. I don’t want you to think that you can just slack off.”

“Mom, I’m not going to slack off,” you explain. “You know I care about this stuff, just like Dad.”

“I know, I know, I’m just making sure. We want to make sure the company is in good hands when your father retires. He doesn’t have too many years left, you know.”

“Well, whenever he’s ready, I’ll be too,” you assure her, a promise you have vowed to uphold, no matter what becomes of you or your social life.

“Good.” The conversation ends there. Or, more takes a quick pause, which can only mean one thing. Your mother has something else she needs to tell you. “Speaking of seeing you off…”

“Yes—?”

“Your father and I both think it’s high time you start to settle down with someone. You know we don’t want to see you end up all alone,” she begins, the same argument that you’ve had with your parents time and time again.

“Mom, you know that I’m not really interested in going out and finding people right now.” Or ever.

“Yes,” she begins, sucking in her breath between her teeth. Oh, goodness, what’s she going to say now? “But luckily, you don’t have to. You’re so busy, we can’t expect you to just drop everything. So we did.”

“You what?”

“Your father and I have set you up on some dates—just a couple!—with some of his associates’ sons,” she explains, but you are already livid. “We just think that you should be taking more time to see—”

“See what?” You demand. “See his friends’ bratty sons tell me how much money they make? See their cars and their clothes and their stupid Italian leather shoes? See them tell me how I work too hard and that I should just stay at home while they go out and change the world? No thank you.” You can’t name a thing in this world less appealing. Except perhaps supervising a resort hotel against your will. But even that’s better, because the men here actually know what they’re doing.

“Honey, you just aren’t giving them the opportunity—”

“Mom, they don’t deserve an opportunity. I don’t need to be dating people right now. At all!” You exclaim. “Like you said, I’m busy. If Dad is going to retire soon then I need to be ready for it. I have other priorities.”

“Your happiness is our priority,” your mother insists, convinced she’s doing you a good deed by setting you up on blind dates with rich men who care more about their watches and Italian leather shoes than they would a woman.

“Working makes me happy,” you say between gritted teeth. “I’m perfectly happy as I am.”

“Will you please just give them a try, honey? You never know,” she pleads, desperate to get you to agree with something.

“Fine,” you say, caving in just to get her to stop talking about it. “But don’t expect anything out of it.”

“Yay! That’s all I wanted to hear.” You can hear her relief through the phone.

“Anything else?” You ask, rubbing at your temples, wishing desperately for this day to be over so you can just go home and take a nice, hot bath, and dream about the mystery man in his black masquerade mask. You’re not interested in dating, sure, but for him, you think you'd make an exception. If only you knew who he was.

“That’s it. Love you, honey, congratulations on the new resort!” She hangs up in that same voice that she started with, bubbly and animated, and the moment you hear the line go dead, you throw your dignity to the dogs and groan to yourself.

“God almighty,” you mutter angrily, shaking your head as you rest your head in your hands, fingers massaging at your forehead. Another blind date? How could you possibly have agreed to that? The more you think about the more you wish that this part of your life was the dream instead. Fairytales are overrated but quite frankly, you certainly wouldn’t mind if that man from the party waltzed right into your life and swept you off your feet. He certainly had no trouble doing it last night. You wonder what he’s up to, now—

“Miss Jeon?”

You jump at the voice, scaring both you and Seokjin as you turn, a little cry escaping your lips instinctively. “Oh my God, you frightened me. And please, Y/N is fine. Better, actually.”

Seokjin looks like a deer in headlights, terrified to even talk to you, let alone address you by your first name. You appreciate the professionalism but have never been too fond of the whole ‘Miss’ thing. As if you or your parents need any more reminding that you’re single. Your first name feels much more natural. He flounders twice, opening his mouth to say something before shutting it again, as though whatever he says will suddenly enrage you.

“Do you… need anything, Seokjin?” You ask, prompting him since he doesn’t seem to be taking matters into his own hands.

The sound of his name from your lips snaps him out of his daze. “Oh! Yes, I do, actually. I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to include personal expenses on the part of the hotelier in the Excel sheet.”

“Personal expenses? Did you receive a credit from my father?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

“Yes, it was mailed to me just last week. I’ve only used it for a couple of items, though—”

“Like what?” You ask, head tilted.

He blushes red, cheeks rosy like cherries in summer. “The curtains in the lobby.”

You bark out a laugh, amused at how unexpected this whole thing is. The one thing Seokjin spends money on, you instruct him to take down. At the sound of your chortle, Seokjin backs away, like a cat scared of thunder claps. “Of course,” you say, looking up at the sky and exhaling. Fate. “Please include those.” He nods, already making to scurry back to the front desk, but another sentence from your mouth stops him in his tracks. “Oh, and if you think that the curtains look nice, then leave them. I was never good at interior design anyway.”

You crack a smile, hoping that Seokjin will at least recognize that you’re attempting to be funny and grin, validating you and your lacking sense of humor. He doesn’t, but he does nod once more, and you at least feel like the ice between you is beginning to crack.

Seokjin rushes back towards the front desk, taking on the enormous list of tasks you’ve assigned him without so much blinking an eye. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration, knitting themselves together above the scrunch of his nose, as his eyes zero in on his computer screen. It’s obvious that he knows exactly what he’s doing and has no issues regarding his work whatsoever. Good thing he’s the hotelier.

From here, you can use supervision as a cover for the way that you are blatantly ogling him, his figure and his face, finding yourself rather impressed at the sight in front of you. Here, in this lavish, modern hotel, he looks like a prince rather than a manager, clean button-down shirt and fitted slacks, tailored to fit his short torso and long legs. His hair hangs in front of his face in strands, the same sort of hairstyle that the attractive male love interests get, messy and tousled but still fresh. It looks good on him. He certainly wears it well.

You don’t think being here will be too bad, so long as you have him.

“Hey.” You feel Hoseok wrap his arm around you, joining you as you stand by the windows. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you promise. “I am.”

Hoseok motions back towards them, where they work diligently behind the front desk as they wait for the next guests to arrive. Seokjin, thinking you aren’t looking, steps back from his computer for just a moment to take some breaths, catch some air. He stretches, arms above his head as his shirt is pulled out from where it’s tucked into his pants. Even from here, you can see the toned lines of his torso, his healthy, slim figure.

Something about him is so familiar. Maybe you met him in a past life.

“I think you’ll be fine, Y/N,” he promises, bright white smile gazing back at you, happy as always. “You don’t have anything to worry about. They all look like they know what they’re doing. Especially that Seokjin guy.”

Being here wasn’t your first choice. It wasn’t even your second. But you have people that you can’t let down, and responsibilities to uphold. Besides, you don’t think it’ll be that bad. At least, not with someone like Seokjin around. Perhaps there is always a silver lining.

“Yeah,” you repeat again, exhaling. Hoseok turns to look at you, fondness lacing his features, and you smile to yourself. “I know.”

Very seldom are you shouted at by people that your family has employed. The fear of being fired due to disagreeing with your boss is enough to keep many people quiet. Submissive, even.

But not Hoseok.

“What is with these eye bags, Y/N?” He exclaims at you, exasperated as he picks up the color-correcting pot from his kit and turns around to face you. “I thought we agreed on eight hours of sleep per night. Getting less than that is a death sentence!”

“I’m fine, Hoseok,” you insist, even though the bags underneath your eyes are deeper than the Grand Canyon. You, admittedly, have not been sleeping as much as Hoseok has insisted upon.

“No, you’re not, look at you! Earlier today you shoved your toothbrush into your ear when I called you while you were about to start brushing your teeth,” Hoseok reminds you, an embarrassing moment in your life that you would prefer to keep just between the two of you. Sometimes you just mix up what’s in your hands. It happens.

You frown. “I thought we agreed not to mention that.”

“Your skin is looking dry, too,” Hoseok says, dabbing on the product underneath your eyes. “These are all signs that your body isn’t doing well.”

“Okay, Dr. Jung,” you say with a roll of your eyes, making Hoseok scowl playfully at you. “But I’m fine. I’m just working a little bit harder right now. That’s all.”

“That’s what you always say,” Hoseok points out, unimpressed with your measly excuse. “Every time I talk to you about how you aren’t taking care of yourself, you always go, ‘It’s because of work, I’m fine,’ or ‘Don’t worry about me, I just have a lot to do right now.’ It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t sound like that!” You object, offended at his mocking high-pitched impression of you. You don’t sound like Hoseok on helium. You refuse to accept that.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, shrugging you off as he pulls out the concealer. “I’m serious, Y/N. You work yourself way too hard. This event is supposed to be a fun business gala and you’re probably going to spend the whole time checking your email.”

“I will not!” You will.

Hoseok frowns, seeing right through you. One of the many benefits of being your personal assistant is the fact that he can read you like a children’s book. He also knows that he can say whatever he wants to you without fear of getting fired—not that he cares about that, either, because he’s probably got enough money in his bank account to put three kids through college. If he ever wanted to have kids, that is. So this is how conversations like these usually go.

“If I didn’t like your live text updates on the stupid things people wear to these things so much, I would make you leave your phone at home,” Hoseok tells you. “You really do need to take time for yourself.”

“I do take time for myself,” you rebuke with a pout, thinking about how you’ve started waking up five minutes later so you have more time to sleep in. It means that you don’t get to read the morning news like you used to, but sometimes putting off politics until after you’ve had coffee is a good thing.

“A once-a-month ten-minute bath while you put on a rose face mask doesn’t count,” Hoseok tells you pointedly. “You need to be incorporating this sort of thing into your everyday life. By taking time off. All you ever do is work.”

“It’s not my fault,” you huff, closing your eyes so Hoseok can do some eyeshadow. “I have a whole hotel to oversee after my dad assigned it to me. There’s a lot that I have to manage. Plus, my mom is making me go on these stupid blind dates with their associates’ snobby sons who still think that the pay gap isn’t real.”

Hoseok tuts to himself, shaking his head as he brushes color onto your eyelids. “Your parents have such bad taste in men for you.”

“I know!”

“This is even further proof that you need to relax more,” Hoseok says economically, brain immediately connecting your predicament to his agenda to get you to take more time off, as always. “Because men stress you out.”

“Just them, but yes,” you correct.

“What do you mean ‘Just them’? Is there someone you’re interested in that doesn’t stress you out?” Hoseok demands, tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes. You do and the first thing you see is Hoseok’s face, two inches from yours, staring at you as he waits for an answer.

You sigh. You might as well tell him about the mystery man. Clearly, you underestimated his power, because it’s been a week and you’re still thinking about him. “Yes, but—”

“‘Yes’?” Hoseok asks, shocked. “What the fuck, when did you meet him? What does he look like? What’s his name? Job? Is he rich?”

“At my birthday party,” you say. You can picture the scene perfectly in your mind. The balcony, the stars, the mask. The feeling of his hands on your waist, his lips on yours. They’ve been etched into your brain. “We talked on the balcony for a little while and then we kissed.”

“You what?”

“Don’t overreact, it’s not that big of a deal,” you order. The mere recollection of it is already making your body restless and your cheeks burn.

“What do you mean? It’s a huge deal!”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” you interrupt, sighing to yourself, “because he ran off at midnight Cinderella-style and I don’t know his name, or his job, or even what he really looks like because he was wearing a mask the whole time.”

Hoseok stops dead in his tracks, the loose power leaving a puff of smoke in between the two of you as his words sink in. Yeah. That’s how you feel too. You finally develop an interest in somebody after years of going it solo and you don’t know a damn thing about him. Other than the fact that he is a fantastic kisser. Which is not an appropriate identifier. You suppose that you could use the mask, but you don’t even know half of the people your mother invited. How are you supposed to narrow down who was wearing a black mask and who wasn’t?

The fact is that unless a miracle happens, you don’t have any way of figuring out who that man is. Yet another thing that you have to dwell on while you worry about everything else going on in your life.

Hoseok sits on his words for a few more moments, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Eventually, he settles on, “Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything to find him?”

You shake your head, resigning yourself to a life where the mystery man will forever remain a mystery. “No. I don’t even know who was on the guest list.”

“What if you ask Jungkook?” Hoseok poses. “Maybe he knows him.”

“Jungkook does not need to know about my barely-there love life,” you say with a self-deprecating chuckle. You and your brother typically keep your conversations far away from that realm of topics, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Jungkook is rather flush with admirers. Many of whom have gotten to know him a little bit… closer. “It’s no big deal, ‘Seok. I’m not really desperate to find love. I just need to focus on work, right now.”

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard, Y/N,” Hoseok says with a melancholic smile, knowing that no matter what he tells you, you’ll always be too determined for your own good. At least he tries.

You purse your lips in understanding. Hoseok just wants what’s best for you, but what’s best for you right now is being ready for your father’s impending retirement. “There’s just too much that I have to do.”

“At least you’ll have help with the resort,” Hoseok offers, always looking on the bright side. “That Seokjin fellow seems like he really knows what he’s doing.”

You think back to your visits to the resort. Your longest stay was the first day you arrived, but you’ve been making frequent trips back to check in. And every time you arrive, Seokjin is waiting dutifully for your next orders, always getting your completed requests back to you on time, formatted perfectly. He listens to your every word and asks the right questions. He knows exactly what to do and he has no problems admitting when he doesn’t. He’s even started bringing you the occasional coffee.

He’s also terribly handsome, but you try to think about other things when you look at him.

Hoseok’s right. At least you have Seokjin. His impeccable work ethic is half the reason you aren’t wearing yourself thin worrying about the resort. He was definitely meant to be a hotelier.

“I guess you’re right.” You nod, letting Hoseok brush a deep maroon lipstick onto you as he finishes up with your makeup. “It could be worse.”

Hoseok mumbles in agreement, stepping back. “Let me look at you.”

You stand up, gown, heels, makeup, and all, letting Hoseok gaze at you to make sure that everything is flawless. You’ve never liked the events you have to attend, but getting dressed up is always something you rather enjoy. Especially when Hoseok is the one doing it.

The dress drapes down your figure perfectly, hugging your sides as it gathers on the floor, leaving just enough space for the tips of your heels to peek out. Your necklace hangs low on your torso and your earrings dangle, soft golden strings with gems at the base. Your eyes sparkle with the help of the glitter that Hoseok has added, touches of shimmer on the high points of your face. You look into the mirror and for once, you feel satisfied.

“Wow,” Hoseok says, proud and beaming. “Look at you.”

There you are.

Days at the resort hotel pass by faster now.

Granted, no work day could ever top the speed at which the days passed when you were younger, playing outside with friends or running around in the yard during recess. But being here isn’t as terrible as you had first made it out to be. At least you don’t have your father constantly looking over your shoulder, even if he does call you every day to ask for updates. And at least the people here have integrity, more so than any of the usual executives you work with up in the central building in town. The people here aren’t brown-nosing you every minute of every day.

And yes, getting to see Seokjin every day is also rather enjoyable. From a professional perspective.

Hoseok says you need to take more time for yourself and relax more but quite frankly, being at the resort hotel is a vacation. It’s a respite from the hustle-and-bustle culture that your father has cultivated in his office building. It’s a break from the neverending business deals, the meetings, the agreements and bargains and contracts. And most importantly, it’s something that you can do without your father’s help.

For once, it almost feels like a little taste of freedom.

Of course, Hoseok would also tease you terribly about the fact that you consider overseeing a resort hotel a break, as opposed to an actual holiday where you take real time off. But he must know that that’s never going to happen. At least, not anytime soon.

You hadn’t realized your father’s retirement was so close. The years pass by in a blur but you have always thought that your father has much too much to finish, tasks and projects, and events that will take another few years to come to fruition. Too many loose ends that he needs to tie up, deals he must close and finances he must track. You’ve been groomed to take over for him since you were young, even before you graduated, but retirement has always felt like a distant future.

Not an imminent happening.

Jungkook hadn’t even sounded surprised when you told him that you would be overseeing the new resort.

You wonder if you’re the only one in your family who hadn’t expected your father to be planning his retirement so soon. The money and savings isn’t an issue—he will continue to invest long after he leaves his office—but the time is. Perhaps he has finished more than you thought he would. Accomplished more goals than you expected he’d do.

Or perhaps, you just grew up too quickly.

Time has always gone by much too fast for your liking. When you were little, when you were in school, when you graduated. You closed your eyes and suddenly all of your youth had whizzed by. You woke up and suddenly you were in and out of four years of college and two years of a Master’s in business. You blinked and suddenly you are about to inherit a company you thought you never would.

The fear of everything ending is enough to keep you away. Away from that skyscraper in the center of the city, where your father’s office sits at the top floor, where he works nonstop to make sure that everything is ready for your arrival. Away from a future you thought you could avoid, until it reached you.

Having this resort hotel, a brand new building in the beachy part of town, with efficient, competent staff and a gorgeous view, is enough to make you want to live in the past forever.

Your phone screen lights up with your father’s contact for the third time today, the green ‘answer’ button and the red ‘decline’ button waiting patiently for your decision. Staring down at it, you frown. You normally aren’t one to purposely miss your father’s calls, but today is the day that the deal with the Ohs is finalized, something that you have zero desire to celebrate.

After a few more moments, your phone stops vibrating in your hand, the screen going back. You roll your eyes and stuff it into the pocket of your pants, not wanting to wait for it to light up once more. You have a feeling that your mother will be phoning shortly to berate you for not answering your father’s calls, a call that you have every intention of ignoring just like the previous ones. You aren’t sure how to make clearer the fact that you think the deal is a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Mostly because the Ohs are horrible people.

Still, you cannot resist pulling your phone out when you feel it buzz against your side.

[Today, 12:27PM]

Jungkook: dude dad’s flipping out because you aren’t answering his calls

Ugh. Not Jungkook, too.

You: Tell him that I will congratulate him on the deal in person later. You: I’m busy right now.

Jungkook: he’s calling just to check in on the resort

You: I give him weekly updates and forward him any pressing news. He’ll manage.

Jungkook: just call him or mom’s gonna call you

You: Tell her that I will congratulate him on the deal in person. You: Later.

Jungkook: are you gonna be like this until dad retires?

You: Like what?

Jungkook: -_- Jungkook: don’t play stupid Jungkook: you’re being stubborn and you know it.

You: Dad already knows that I didn’t approve of him going through with the deal. I don’t imagine he’s expecting a party from me.

Jungkook: you can’t keep ignoring him just because you didn’t approve of one thing Jungkook: how is that professional???? Jungkook: you’re inheriting the business soon Y/N Jungkook: you need to start acting like it

You: Don’t tell me how to act when you aren’t the one busting your ass trying to make sure the business is ready for when he retires. You: You have your own life to lead and your own things to do. It’s not your place.

Jungkook: as a businessman, it isn’t Jungkook: as your brother, it is

You scowl at your screen. The brother card. Jungkook pulls it whenever he and you both know that you’re being unreasonable, and the worst part is that it always works. It always works because Jungkook only ever wants the best for you, wants to see you succeed as a businesswoman, as a future CEO, and as his sister. And who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?

You: I just have a lot on my plate right now. Dad and I can talk later.

Jungkook: yknow Jungkook: like, occupationally, you are more than ready to inherit the company and you know it. Jungkook: you work so hard 24/7 and you never take breaks, you know exactly what you’re doing and you can command a room better than anyone i’ve ever met Jungkook: but Jungkook: oh idk

You: What?

An impromptu psychoanalysis from your wise-beyond-years younger brother is certainly not something you had been expecting today. But Jungkook always has and always will know you better than anyone else, something that is both a blessing and a curse.

Jungkook: you are so fucking ready to inherit the business Jungkook: i just wish you would realize it

Silence. You pause, watching the three dots appear and disappear over and over again, Jungkook typing and deleting what next he wants to say. Chuckling to yourself, you read his message over and over again.

What’s Jungkook on about? Doesn’t he know what you do? The position you have? Just because you’ll eventually take over the business doesn’t mean you’re ready for it. Isn’t Jungkook aware of how much work you have to do? About how your father assigned you this resort hotel as punishment for disagreeing with him?

You aren’t ready.

You’re barely halfway.

You: Yeah, right.

Jungkook: i’m serious Y/N Jungkook: can’t you see how prepared you are

You: I still have lots to do, Jungkook. Just because I’ve been given more responsibility doesn’t suddenly mean Dad’s going to retire tomorrow and that I’m ready to take over.

Jungkook: that’s not what i meant and you know it

You: I don’t feel like talking about this anymore. Tell Dad that I’ll talk to him about the deal later.

Jungkook: … Jungkook: fine Jungkook: but don’t say i didn’t try to tell you

You angrily switch your phone off, fuming at the fact that the deal’s gone through, fuming at how Jungkook thinks that suddenly because you were given a resort hotel to oversee it means that you’re ready to take over from your father, and fuming at how, above all, there’s a part of you and a part of Jungkook that both know that he is, as usual, right.

There’s a knock on the door to your makeshift office at the hotel and you lose it.

“What?”

You look up just in time to see Seokjin jump slightly at your shout, coffee sloshing around in the cups in his hand. Ah. You hadn’t meant to scare him like that.

Exhaling, you rub at your temples as you set your phone down on the desk, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, Seokjin. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Please, come in.”

“Coffee?” He offers, a small smile on his face as he holds it out.

“You are a lifesaver,” you declare, taking the cup from him happily and having a sip. Perfectly scalding. Seokjin waits patiently behind your desk until you’re finished, swaying slightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. “Just thought that I’d let you know that I’ve just got more files on the finances.”

“Oh, excellent,” you declare happily, accepting the small manila folder from underneath Seokjin’s arm. You open it just to browse, and everything seems to be in order. An easy thing to file away for future reference if necessary. And there’s no doubt in your mind that Seokjin’s already faxed you an electronic copy as well. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Seokjin nods. He turns to leave but seems to linger, noticing the tension in your shoulders and the irritation on your face, the way you drink up the boiling coffee like it’s nothing, relishing in the burn down your throat. He almost stops himself, opening his mouth slightly and then closing it, but then he just sighs, and he asks, “Are you alright?”

You sputter out the coffee all over the manila folder in front of you. “I’m sorry,” you say over coughs, the beverage going down the wrong pipe in all of the chaos. “What—what did you say?”

“You just seem more stressed than usual, is all,” Seokjin says, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ink black slacks.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been snappy recently,” you say, admitting it. “There’s just a lot I’m dealing with right now. Mostly to do with work.”

“I hope I’m helping, then?” He says hopefully, a hesitant grin on his face.

You nod in agreement. Without him, you definitely wouldn’t be sleeping half as much as you do now (which is apparently still not enough, according to Hoseok). At least Seokjin’s there. “You definitely are. I don’t think I’d have made it without you,” you chuckle.

Seokjin smiles. “If you need me to do more, I’d be happy to. Just ask.”

“Thank you, Seokjin. I really appreciate that,” you tell him. In the short time you’ve known him, Seokjin’s kindness has outshone even his stellar work ethic, a trait that you’ve come to admire in him, mostly because you know you can only dream of being as generous as he. “It means a lot.”

“Anytime,” he says, and he means it, too. “I’ll always be here for you.”

And standing here, in your makeshift office, with a matching cup of coffee in his hand, and a gorgeous, toothy smile on his face, you know that he means that, too.

Sometimes, you can’t even believe a man like Seokjin exists. He’s practically flawless.

“I will bear that in mind,” you promise. “You really are a wonderful person, Seokjin. Really.”

Seokjin grins, the compliment going straight to him, blushing furiously as he exits your office, waving a tiny goodbye on his way out. You return it, watching fondly as he nearly crashes into the door frame, hand slamming onto it before he realizes. He laughs at his clumsiness and even from here you can see his cheeks get redder, heating up like the coffee in his hand.

Work is hard. Being the unprepared heir to an enormous conglomerate even harder. But Seokjin’s right.

At least you’ll always have him.

You’ve never been one to develop friendships with your employees, but there is something about Seokjin that’s different. Something about him that makes him a confidant first and a hotelier second. Something about him that pulls you in, an electric, magnetic touch.

You feel like you’ve known him longer than you feel. Feel like you’re closer than you really are.

Some people are just like that, you suppose. Some people just make you wish that you had known them forever.

Quite frankly, you don’t think you could name a single thing wrong about Seokjin even if you tried. He gets your coffee order perfect (not that it’s hard, it’s just that you’ve never told him what it is), he does all of his work before you’ve even asked, and he runs the damn resort hotel better than you do. He’s obviously a people-person and can make others laugh without trying. He’s even figured out how to compliment you, a trait that not even grown businessmen have learned.

The days pass in a blur, made quicker by the ease of working with him. Of being around him. Seokjin lifts up your spirit and he doesn’t even have to try. His competence in the workplace is enough to have you coming by the resort daily instead of weekly, hourly instead of daily, just so you can spend time in a place that, for once, makes you feel relaxed.

Hoseok would say that Seokjin is a miracle-worker.

You would say that he’s just brilliant.

Honestly, sometimes you think that even Seokjin is more well-equipped to run your family’s business than you are. And you’re the heiress.

The differences between Seokjin and all other men you’ve had the displeasure of interacting with (besides Jungkook, because he’s your brother, and Hoseok, because he’s the best) become abundantly clear after your second mother-mandated blind date.

The first one that you went on a couple of weeks ago was alright. He wasn’t an asshole, but also he had the same amount of flavor as the plain white bread that you were served prior to the meal. But no points is better than negative points, right?

You mentioned to your mother that you probably wouldn’t be interested in a second date with him. She didn’t sound surprised.

Unfortunately for you, your second blind date was not nearly as uneventful.

The good part about your date was that it was a brunch arrangement, which is unabashedly your favorite meal of the day and also saves you the trouble of having to get all dressed up for a fancy dinner in the center of the city. But that is where the good parts end.

You don’t know what your parents were thinking, setting you up with a man like Sangmin. Every single thing that you have ever complained to them about a man, Sangmin either did or was. The first red flag was how he showed up to your brunch meeting wearing a navy blue suit. It didn’t get any better from there.

You know that your parents just want you to find someone and settle down, someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and get you to stop working so hard, someone who will make you happy and who can keep you comfortable, someone who is something that you genuinely will want to spend time with, but you can’t explain why, with this knowledge of your preferences and dislikes, they still send you on dates with men like Sangmin.

Men who boast about their money with every chance they get, checking the time just so they can flash their Rolex watch even though their phone is right there, telling you how many fancy cars they own that deserve a woman like you in the passenger seat. Men who try to explain economic practices that your family pioneered to you. Men whose eyes flash with dollar signs when they hear that you’re going to be inheriting your family’s company.

Your parents want you to find someone who can take the weight off of your shoulders and keep you comfortable? They should let you pick.

At one in the afternoon and not a moment later, you storm into your office, flinging your bag onto your chair as you groan aloud, staring out the window and fighting the urge to punch right through the Plexiglass. There’s no word for the way you’re feeling, the unintelligible growl that you let out. You just aren’t having a very good day.

Your desire to interact with men is at an all time low, and yet, you can’t help but turn around when you hear his voice.

“Knock, knock,” Seokjin says from the doorway, two cups of steaming coffee in his hand. He strolls up happily to you, placing the plastic cup in your outstretched hand. “How’d it go?”

“Bad,” you spit, not wanting to say anything else.

“Oh, no, really?” Seokjin asks, genuinely disappointed. At least someone was rooting for you. You don’t even think you had been rooting for yourself. “Worse than the first guy?”

“Say the first guy was just… slightly stale white bread, okay?” You begin to explain, because Seokjin doesn’t need the details and you don’t need to relive the experience. “Then this guy would be… how would you put it—?”

“Really stale white bread?” Seokjin offers.

“A rotten egg mayonnaise sandwich that’s been sitting in a dumpster for two weeks,” you correct.

Seokjin winces. A perfect reaction, as always.

“It was just bad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” You decide once and for all, moving to your desk and slamming the coffee cup onto the wood. It sloshes over the edge and splashes around the side, leaving behind a ring that you know you’ll have to clean up later.

Seokjin goes to stand by the window, looking out into the back gardens of the resort, all tropical red flowers and vibrant green leaves. “You have a third one, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you groan, the mere thought sending shivers down your spine. And not the good kind. The fact that the dates aren’t even over yet is enough to send you into a tailspin. “God, my parents are just desperate, at this point.”

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, brown eyes wide and curious. “Are they worried about something?”

“Ugh,” you begin, on the verge of slamming your head onto the mahogany. The problem isn’t that your parents are worried you won’t find someone. It’s that your parents think that it’s their job to find someone for you. “I think they’re scared that I’m never going to marry, or that I work myself too hard and need someone to spend time with to calm down. I don’t understand. Even if I were to never marry, that’s not a bad thing. I can do what I want. I’m perfectly capable of running my family’s group without someone else.”

“Do you not want to get married?” Seokjin asks. The reason, you realize, that Seokjin is so refreshing, a respite from the rest of the executives that constantly surround you, is because he doesn’t expect anything of you. He doesn’t assume that you’ll eventually marry and become disparaging when you suggest otherwise. He doesn’t assume that you constantly need guidance on official matters that you alone have been tasked to handle. He doesn’t assume that you aren’t capable.

(He did assume your preferred coffee order. And he is an excellent judge.)

“I mean,” you begin, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to relieve your body of the stress that sits upon it, “I suppose that eventually, it would be nice. But I’m in no rush if I haven’t met the right person, you know? Like, I’m not going to force myself to if the time isn’t right. There’s no deadline to get married.”

Seokjin nods in agreement, mouth shut. One of your favorite things about Seokjin is how, whenever you begin to speak, he begins to listen.

“My parents are just putting all of this pressure on me to get married because they think that I’ll need someone’s help when I take over after my father retires. Or they just think that I’m sad and lonely. Which, maybe they’re right about the second part, but I just hate how they’re putting all of this pressure on me to go on dates and get married and work hard when there isn’t even a timeline for me to take over yet. I don’t even have real confirmation that my father is planning on retiring anytime soon. I just—ugh!” There really is no better way to put it than to just shriek and throw your hands up in the air. You sigh, dragging your hand down the side of your face. “Do you ever wish that you could just… I don’t know. Disappear?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen when he hears your words, like they’ve set something off in his brain. Even sitting on your tongue, they feel familiar to you. Where have you heard those before?

He seems to wait for another few moments, contemplating what he’s next going to say, like if he just opens his mouth and lets the words flow out he’ll say something wrong. Little does Seokjin know, in your eyes, nothing he could ever say would be wrong to you.

“You aren’t sad and lonely,” he begins, a nice, comforting pep talk even though you sort of are both sad and lonely. You work nonstop and have three friends, two of which are employed by your family, the other one being your brother. “And you don’t need to rush into getting married if you don’t feel like it, no matter what your parents say. I mean, at least I think you don’t. You’re obviously much more focused on your career and how you want to succeed in the future, and that’s good. It’s something that means a lot to you.”

He takes a few steps towards you, setting his coffee cup on your desk. You look up to him from where you’re sitting in your office chair, letting his words carve themselves deep into your heart, rest within your soul.

Sometimes, you don’t realize you’ve gotten yourself down until someone is trying to pick you back up.

“You do have control over your life,” he tells you, and for once in your life you actually feel yourself believing it. “What you are doing, what you have been doing, is right. Things will come with time. You’ll learn and grow more as you keep living. And even if you aren’t looking for them right now—” he says, eyes wide and knowing and promising, looking at you so desperately because God, he just wants you to listen to him. To let his words mean something. “—there is someone out there who will love you.”

The sound of his voice dissipates into the air, sinking into the floor, dust after a storm.

“You really think so?” You ask, hopeful. You never believed in soulmates but you have always believed in love. Believed that when the feeling was right, you would know.

(That kiss still lingers in your mind, like morning dew after a rainy night. Like frost settling over the grass. Is it possible that you can feel like that again?)

Seokjin nods, firm and true. He does think that. He does. “I do,” he says. “I really do.”

The third date is forgettable.

Or perhaps Seokjin has just enchanted you. So much so that your brain doesn’t even choose to remember interactions with other men. They just aren’t as memorable.

You finish up this round of parent-mandated rich boy blind dates and get back to work, knowing that you might as well make the most of your now-unoccupied time before your mother decides once again that it’s time for you to go on dates again with men you have no interest in. Work, unlike so many other things in your life, will always be a constant. For better or for worse.

Today, it’s barely even dawn before you arrive at the hotel. In recent days, the resort has become your hub for all of your work, even the work that doesn’t have anything to do with it. There’s just something calming about being here. Something that makes you feel more productive. That makes you want to work more.

You slide into your office with ease, coffee in one hand and messenger bag in the other, surprisingly awake considering the sun is hardly over the horizon, soft orange rays peeking out from between the trees and skyscrapers. You don’t imagine there’s a lot of tasks of immediate priority waiting for you on your desk, but there’s always other work to be done. Administrative orders, emails to send, requests to be made. Even here, there’s no shortage of items on your never-ending to-do list.

Seokjin’s not due to clock in for another several hours, at least. But he works long days and longer nights, and he deserves at least the morning off. He should at least be afforded that small luxury.

Sitting down in your office chair, you pull yourself into the desk, elbows resting on the hardwood, head in your palms. The smell of coffee wafts through the air, thick and potent, waking up your nerves, one by one, sending small waves through your brain. You close your eyes, almost drifting back to sleep, sighing happily.

Today feels like a good day.

The hours pass quickly when you’re here, the sun rising slowly in the sky as it always does, day in and day out. You rely on it as much as it relies on you, wakes up this little corner of the world, says hello to the people stepping out of their doors and onto the street. No matter what, you know that the sun will always be there to greet you when you wake and say goodbye before you sleep. Within thirty minutes your coffee is finished, within the hour your emails are answered.

One by one, you check the tasks off your list, responding to a phone call or two, forwarding some files to your father, rejecting a business proposal and requesting changes to another. You don’t even notice the minutes blowing past you until the sun is high in the sky, and the clock is chiming twelve. Noon, already?

“Knock knock,” a voice from the doorway calls.

You feel your body relax when you see Seokjin standing there, peeking his head into your office like he always does. He looks much more casual today, a sweater vest over a button-down shirt, looser beige pants in place of his usual tailored slacks, hair sitting in a tousled mess atop his head, forehead peeking through the strands that hang low over his face, brushing his eyelashes. Instinctively, you glance down to your usual pantsuit attire. Did you miss a memo?

“What, no coffee for me today?” You tease, an eyebrow raised as Seokjin enters, coffee cup-less.

“Not today, sorry,” he says with a guilty smile. “I thought that maybe we could get something else to eat.”

“Oh!” You exclaim happily. “Sure, we can order some delivery. What are you feeling? Sushi? A burger? Oh, I know this wonderful brunch place that’s just a few blocks away—”

Seokjin laughs, a hand reaching out to push your phone done. The mere sensation of his fingertips upon your skin are enough to have you looking back up at him, shellshocked, heart frozen in place. “I was thinking something a little different.”

“Like what?” There are plenty of options for the two of you to pick from.

“How about you and I take a break this afternoon?” He asks, eyes wide with ambition.

You frown, nose scrunched up at the notion. “A break? You mean… leave?”

Seokjin nods. Oh, so you did hear him correctly. “You’re always working so hard. You should take some time off.”

“Ugh,” you respond, rolling your eyes, having had this conversation thousands of times before. “You sound like Hoseok.”

“Hoseok’s right, Miss Y/N,” Seokjin points out, much to your chagrin. “You’ve been working so much lately. Just a little break, alright? We can get out of here and do something fun.”

“Nice try, Seokjin,” you say with a scoff, turning back to the work in front of you. “Maybe some other time.” Which means never, so long as you can help it.

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin says, a pleading lilt to his voice. He’s beginning to pout in front of you, lower lip turned outwards. “Just a couple of hours, please? We can go into the city and walk around for a little bit. Eat some food in the park, or something.”

You look up to him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. That does sound good… but you have work to do, items to cross off your list. This hotel isn’t going to manage itself, and neither is your life. “A couple of hours?” You clarify, interest piqued.

“Just a couple,” Seokjin promises, fighting off the grin that’s etching its way across his face. “Please?”

You sigh.

Twenty minutes and a Lyft ride later, you and Seokjin are standing in the middle of the city, along the streets known for their high-class fashion boutiques and expensive restaurants with afternoon tea. There’s a park a couple of blocks to the north. It’s a part of the city that you rarely get to spend time in, usually trapped in the business skyscraper sector a ten-minute subway ride away, but for that reason alone, it feels brand new.

Seokjin buys you both a cup of expensive coffee despite your objections, and the two of you walk along the sidewalks side by side, sipping from your paper cups with plastic lids, letting the warmth wash down your throats.

It’s nice, being out here. Away from anything that reminds you of work. With someone you’ve wanted to spend more time with for a while, now.

Out here, you can almost pretend. Pretend that you aren’t the heiress to a major global conglomerate, pretend that you aren’t being groomed to marry up, pretend that life is just a little more normal.

Out here, you can almost pretend that you and Seokjin are more than just friends.

“Oh my God, Y/N, look at this shirt!” Seokjin gasps, stopping in his tracks in front of the window of one of the most expensive luxury boutiques you can name. You’re pretty sure that Jungkook shops here sometimes.

The shirt in question is a satin white button-down with hand-stitched birds decorating the fabric, wispy little designs that seem to be fluttering off of the material itself. It stands front and center in the window, a masterpiece meant to have people stopping in the streets just to gaze up at it in awe. It’s doing its job rather well.

“You wanna try it on?” You offer, motioning towards the door of the shop, a sleek, black one with metallic silver accents.

“What?” He asks, turning to you with an eyebrow raised.

You smile, pointing up at the shirt, eyes tracing the drape of the fabric. “Come on, just for fun.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing to have Seokjin marching up to the door and pulling it open, giddy like a child walking into a toy store. He spots what he’s looking for immediately, a single shirt on a silver rack, hanging from a simple wire hanger. Other than the one on the mannequin in the window, there seems to be no other option.

“It even feels expensive,” Seokjin sighs happily, hand brushing over the satin fabric. He holds it out to you, and it’s so light and pliable that you can barely feel your fingertips touching the material.

“There’s the fitting room,” you say, pointing to the back corner, black velvet held up by a rod, muted gray paint lining the walls. Seokjin grins excitedly at you before rushing off, disappearing behind the curtain with a flourish.

Instinctively, your eyes trace the interior, jumping from the hangings on the walls to the decorative shelves, the pastel cashmere sweaters and shiny leather loafers, the silken white button downs and navy striped ties. Every item in this room practically screams Seokjin’s name, and even when he isn’t in front of you can you picture him wearing each piece, picture him in an oversized light pink sweater or a sleek white suit.

It’s weird. You’ve never been able to imagine things like that. Not even on you.

The clothes in here are some of the most gorgeous garments you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on and yet there is something else in this room that outshines them all.

“Ready?”

You turn back to the fitting room, watch as the curtain shifts slightly. “Ready,” you say.

A hand comes out to push the curtain to the side, satin sleeves covering his wrist, but not even that glimpse of skin could really prepare you for the sight before your eyes.

Seokjin steps out of the fitting room and you almost gasp aloud at the sight.

The funny part is that he isn’t wearing anything else designed to complete the look. His hair is loose and floppy, like he had brushed through it with his fingers once or twice before deciding it was good enough. His pants are a roomy beige, hardly even complimenting the monochromatic shirt, white with black accents. He’s wearing sneakers.

And yet, he looks stunning.

Standing in front of you, Seokjin looks like the kind of person that your parents would want to set you up with. Rich, well-dressed (not that he isn’t already), powerful, educated. But he looks like more than that, too. He looks like someone straight out of a painting, like a sculpture that belongs in a museum. He stands tall and mighty, the hero after defeating a villain, the love interest in an old-timey film.

God, he looks amazing. Looks like he belongs in those clothes, belongs in this store. Belongs in the kind of life that the usual clientele of this store live in. Something about him is just so familiar. Like he has always fit into the crowd that your parents want you to associate with. Like you’ve seen him before, once upon a dream.

“So,” he says, interrupting your thoughts with a smug smile. “How do I look?”

He must already know the answer to that.

You’re speechless. “I—Wow, Seokjin. You look great.”

A hand comes up to rub at the nape of his neck. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you correct. “It fits you perfectly.”

The fabric shapes his shoulders but drapes over the rest of his torso, including his ridiculously small waist. It both hangs loosely and hugs all of the right places. Your family regularly gets clothing tailored and yet you still don’t think you’ve ever seen any item of clothing fitting someone as well as this one does him. It’s as if the damn thing was made for him.

“It feels like I’m wearing a cloud and a blanket all at once,” he says dreamily, relishing in the feeling. “If only the price tag made me feel this way too.”

“How much is it?”

Seokjin holds out the sleeve to which the tag is attached for you to inspect, and the moment you see a comma in the cost, you understand why. No wonder Jungkook’s fine with shopping here. To your family, that amount is pocket change.

“But you really like it, don’t you?” You ask, looking back up at him, closer now. Seokjin nods, lips pressed together in a thin line, wanting something that he knows he can’t have. You know that feeling, too.

“I would get it if I didn’t mind taking out a loan for it,” he jokes, admiring the detail at the cuffs, the way it cinches in towards his wrist.

“Then let me buy it for you,” you say before thinking twice, because you have more money than you realistically know what to do with and Seokjin deserves it. He looks gorgeous in it and more importantly, he feels gorgeous in it. He emerged from the fitting room and it was almost like there was this white glow surrounding him, this fluorescent halo that made it seem like the shirt was melting into his body.

Seokjin’s eyes widen. “What? No, I can’t let you.”

“Please?” You plead, eyes gazing up to him. “You deserve it. Plus, you look amazing.”

“It’s so much money,” Seokjin reminds you, shaking his head. “I can’t. No.”

“Seokjin, do you even know who I am? I can afford it, don’t worry,” you assure him, already pulling him towards the register, his old sweater vest and button down still hanging on the rack inside the fitting room.

“No, I can’t let you. It might not be a lot of money to you, but it is to me,” insists Seokjin, refusing to back down.

You roll your eyes, figuring out the game that he’s playing. “Then consider it a thank you. For all of the things that you do for me. The least of which is bringing me coffee every day.”

“That’s just my job, Y/N—” He reaches out a hand to stop you from getting out your wallet, his enormous palm cupping yours as you stare at him, fighting over the shirt like two friends with a restaurant bill.

“No,” you tell Seokjin, because his job is to be a hotelier but he became a friend instead. And he didn’t do it just because he was told to. “You deserve it,” you say, placing your free hand on top of his. It makes him look at you, eyes glossy and big and beautiful. “You really do, Seokjin. This is the least I can do to say thank you for being there for me.”

“Ma’am?”

The lady behind the counter catches you both off guard. “Will you be buying this shirt?”

Seokjin looks down at you in disbelief, almost like he doesn’t expect you to say yes. Like he doesn’t think he’s worthy of a shirt with such a high price tag.

But little does Seokjin know, if you could buy the whole universe for him, you would do it in a heartbeat.

You walk out of the boutique with a light heart and a lighter credit card, with Seokjin by your side and his old clothes in a cardstock bag with ribbons for handles. Even if he had resisted at first, you’re happy that he caved. He looks stupidly handsome. You’re actually somewhat regretting agreeing that he should wear the shirt out instead.

A block away from the park is a little macaron store with more available flavors than you can count on both of your hands and toes. Feeling insatiable, you buy a box of twenty-four and decide on the spot that you won’t be leaving the center of the city without having finished them all. The mere scent of the shop as you walked in was enough to send you into a tizzy.

Seokjin scopes out an open spot on the grass, in the shade of a big Japanese maple tree, and the two of you immediately settle down in the park, the blades tickling your ankles as you set the box of macarons in between the two of you and get to work filling your stomachs.

“All of my friends are going to think that you’re like, my sugar mommy for buying me this,” Seokjin says, taking a bite out of the lavender one.

“If you’re really that embarrassed, you could always say that I just gave you a raise,” you offer, peering over into the box to pick your poison. The problem is that you just want to shove all twenty-three into your mouth.

“No way,” says Seokjin over a mouthful of macaron. “A sugar mommy is way more exciting. I’m just lucky I have a boss with a bank account.”

“Well, unlike all of the other men that my parents have sent me on dates with, you actually deserve to have someone treat you once in a while,” you say happily, eventually deciding on a lemon flavored macaron and popping the entire thing into your mouth. “I’ve met very few men who are as charming as you, Seokjin. Charming and kind.”

“‘Very few’?” Seokjin repeats, interest piqued. “Who dares upstage me?”

You laugh at his brazenness, his attractive confidence. “Oh, no one,” you say with a shrug of your hand. “There was this one guy I met at my birthday party, but I didn’t even catch his name.”

“Too busy mingling to ask?” Seokjin teases, looking sufficiently less confident than he did ten seconds ago. Like someone you had just said caught him off guard.

“Yes, actually. And you don’t really need to know this, but he was an excellent kisser, too. Really sent me into a tailspin,” you say, feeling the faint sensation dance across your lips, the ghost of his mouth on yours. “But he ran off at midnight like Cinderella and left only a mask behind to remind me that I didn’t dream up the whole thing.”

“Ah,” Seokjin says with a nod, a strangely succinct answer for a man as wordy as he. A silence settles over the two of you as you continue to eat, slowly emptying out the box of macarons between the two of you, a light snack to keep you occupied when your mouths aren’t running circles around each other. “My dog gave birth a few weeks ago,” he says randomly. “Want to see some photos?”

At your enthusiastic reply, Seokjin pulls his phone from his pocket and opens up his camera roll to reveal a gorgeous terrier with four equally adorable puppies nursing from her, and your heart nearly melts. Nearly all of his most recent photos are pictures of them as they’ve grown older, opened their eyes and learned how to walk, started play-fighting with each other and eventually tracking into new territory (the living room), but you don’t miss the couple of selfies you see here and there. Even with the warped iPhone camera does Seokjin still look positively flawless.

“They’re adorable, Seokjin,” you tell him, heart soft. “I’m in love.”

“Me, too,” Seokjin says happily. “Two of the puppies have future homes but I think I want to keep one of them. I just love them too much to let them all go.”

“You’ll make a great dog dad,” you assure him, sighing contentedly. “God, don’t you even know how perfect you are, Seokjin?”

He is silent.

“Like, you bring me coffee every day and do all of your work and never talk down to me or assume that I don’t know what I’m doing. You’ve raised a family of dogs and have shown them more love than anything else. You even got me to leave the office for once even though you knew that I’d be really annoying about it,” you declare, partially to him, partially to you, and partially to the world, who deserves to know that there is someone out there like Seokjin that is equal parts wonderful and generous and kind and handsome and funny and lovable.

It’s not just the fact that most of your interactions with men your age go sour. It’s the fact that Seokjin is good just because he is, not because he tries to be. It’s the fact that he cares so deeply and loves so much. It’s the fact that for once, there is someone out there who really does understand you.

“You deserve a break,” Seokjin points out. “You work too hard.”

“Hoseok will be so angry that you accomplished what he’s been trying to get me to do for months, now,” you say. You’ve already missed three phone calls and seven texts from him within the last couple of hours.

“It’s my charm,” Seokjin teases, a soft watermelon macaron grin on his face.

“It really is,” you agree, feeling the gap between you close, inch by inch. “There’s just something about you, Kim Seokjin.”

“Mmm, do tell,” Seokjin murmurs, beginning to lean in, your bodies moving of their own accord. Your mouth tastes like lemon and sugar and coffee, but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. “Because there’s something about you too, Miss Y/N.”

Slowly, you feel your eyes begin to drift shut, craving more than what you already have, itching to feel his lips press against yours, to feel that same fire in your feins. Of course, the next time you kiss someone would be here, underneath a giant Japanese maple in the middle of a city park, the furthest cry from a hotel balcony beneath a starry sky. But something about this is distinctly familiar in a way that you can taste, in a way that you will know once his lips press against yours. Beside you, Seokjin is barely an inch apart from you, pink lips with macaron crumbs hovering over yours. God, he’s so close.

You want him to be closer.

And then—

“Aw, what the—?”

The two of you jerk apart to find a giant stain on Seokjin’s shoulder, courtesy of an unknown flying park visitor who has long disguised themselves amongst the leaves of the maple, waiting for the right time to do its business.

“Seriously?” Seokjin groans, looking down at the white and brown stain that now rests squarely on the fabric of his brand new shirt, an unpleasant splat front and center. “Thank you, bird,” he declares, throwing his hands up in the air.

You fight the urge to laugh at how uncanny all of this is. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning.”

“No, it’s alright,” Seokjin says, grabbing a couple of the napkins from the macaron shop to dab on the stain. “A little soap and laundry detergent will be enough. No big deal.”

“I just feel bad,” you tell him.

“Me, too,” Seokjin agrees, pressing gently against the fabric. “Great timing, too.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, dejected.

Perhaps, if you were a little bit bolder or a little less fearful, you would try again. You would throw caution to the wind and press his lips against his, bird business and all, and never look back. You would relish in the sensation of his mouth on yours, of his hands on your waist, itching to feel that same feeling again. Itching to know that there really is someone out there who will love you.

But you aren’t, and the moment is over. And you can’t, because you just don’t know how to. And you ponder if you will forever wonder what he tastes like, what he feels like.

The clock strikes three.

Some days you come in early, and some days you stay in late.

Later than usual, that is, because you regularly stay past eight in the evening without blinking an eye.

But some nights, you just don’t feel like going home. At least, not yet, you do. Some nights, you would rather stay here.

Home is where you’re supposed to feel at ease, where you’re supposed to relax and unwind, take off your heels and jacket, pour yourself a cup of tea. And that is what your home is to you, a place that you try to keep as free of your work life as possible.

But sometimes, you would rather just work.

Rather work and feel productive and get home a little bit later than go home and feel like you still have so much to do. Rather work than dwell on all of the other parts of your life that don’t involve work, things like marriage and retirement and your family. Things that you feel like you have no say in, no control over. You go home and waiting for you is another phone call from your mother telling you that you need to find someone. You go home and your father drops by to hand you a pile of late-night tasks reminiscent of how hard he’s been working lately. You go home and even if you’re all by yourself, your thoughts take control over your mind. Your worries and fears are magnified.

So some nights, you would rather just work.

Peering out the window of your office, you notice that the stars are just a little bit brighter out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Not nearly as clear as they were on your birthday, at a hotel overlooking the town from afar, but clearer. There isn’t a cloud in the sky as the stars twinkle above you, waving hello from millions of light years away.

Nights like these are too rare to spend indoors, huddled over your computer as you draft another email. Just because you’re still at work doesn’t mean you still have work to do. Well, you do, but you’re trying to be kinder to yourself. Trying to cut yourself a few more corners of slack.

The rooftop is not off limits to guests. But you know a couple of secret places that can afford you the privacy you want, the space to lie back against the cement and feel the breeze tickle your skin.

When you arrive, there’s already someone there. A familiar tuft of brown hair, an oversized pink sweater. You wonder how long he’s been out here.

“Knock knock.” Your sounds like a whisper but feels like a shout, the wind carrying the words from your lips to his ears as he turns around, hardly surprised to see you here.

Seokjin laughs when he sees you, this fond, wonderful smile as you stroll up beside him, where he’s sat with his legs crossed on the rooftop’s edge, looking out over the distant city, the waterfront. “Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says.

“I could say the same for you,” you retort easily, setting down beside him. If you were any braver, you’d rest your head on his shoulder.

You’re not.

“You must know by now that I practically live here,” Seokjin jokes.

“Well, I’m starting to pay rent as well, so you better get used to it, don’t you think?” You tease back, looking out into the same city, illuminated by the same moon.

Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I thought that you were going to start taking it easy on yourself,” he reminds you pointedly, one of the lasting lessons you had learned from the day out on the town. The other being not to sit underneath Japanese maple trees.

“What can I say, I just love to work,” you say, and even though you try to make it sound like a joke both you and Seokjin know you’re not kidding. Work always has and always will be your biggest priority. Never have you lived in a world where anything else comes first. Never have you cultivated that sort of life for yourself.

“How’s your family?” He asks, a broad question with a loaded answer.

You don’t even feel yourself letting out a sigh until the groan leaves your lips, settling like dust. “The same as always,” you say, not even attempting to sound cheerful or happy about it. “They work me hard because they want me to succeed. And I want that, too.”

“But don't you ever want something more?” Seokjin asks, but it’s not the sort of question where he wants you to give him a yes or a no. It’s the sort of question where he already knows that you want to say yes, that there is a whisper deep inside of you that wants to have a life outside of your job, your workaholic family. But you can’t. Because your family is counting on you.

“I just can’t let them down,” you say instead, because you and Seokjin both already knew how you were going to respond anyway. “There’s so much that they expect of me. What kind of heiress—no, what kind of daughter am I if I don’t at least try?”

“It sounds like you’ve thought about this a lot,” Seokjin muses.

You force a chuckle. Obviously you have. Whenever you aren’t working, you’re thinking about what next you must do, what next is on your list. You’re thinking about how your family is counting on you to succeed. And how you want to do it for them. “I’ve had my moments.”

“Do a lot of people know how you feel?” He poses, looking at you curiously.

You shrug. “Not really. My parents, no. Jungkook, sort of. Hoseok, yes. And I suppose you, now, too.”

Seokjin cracks a small smile, this lopsided grin that makes you feel like you’re missing something. “So I guess they’re secrets, aren’t they?”

“Secrets?” You respond naively, an eyebrow raised in bewilderment.

“Secrets, huh?” He asks, sliding another inch closer, daringly so, teetering on the edge of territory that you haven’t touched in years. “I like the sound of that. Got any more for me?”

You smirk up at him, a grin playing on your lips. “Only if you have one for me in return. No freebies.”

He laughs, loud and clear, the sound ringing out in the nighttime air. “Alright,” he says, obliging. He leans in close, lips hovering above your ear. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, dumbfounded. “Oh my fucking God. It’s you?”

Seokjin laughs out loud at that, clapping his hands together at your positively shocked face, mouth agape like a fish out of water. He seems very amused by this, for some reason. A reason you can’t ascertain, mostly because you had no idea. “Honestly, I’m surprised you even figured it out from that. It took you forever to realize.”

You’re so scandalized you don’t even have the right words to respond. “What do you mean, ‘it took forever for me to realize’? Why didn’t you say something?” You demand.

Seokjin’s still fighting off the remnants of his laughter, hiccups escaping from his parted lips every few seconds. “Because it was obvious you didn’t recognize me at first! And I had no idea it was you until you showed up at the hotel that first day anyway. And I didn’t want to bring it up, because I was worried it would have made things weird.”

“Look at us now!” You cry, positively mortified. Seokjin knew it was you the moment you stepped through the sliding glass doors and you still hadn’t figured it out, not even after weeks of knowing him, of getting to spend time with him. “God, I just—I can’t believe this.”

“The funny part is how I knew you had no idea who I was and yet I fell for you anyway,” Seokjin says, but his words aren’t making you laugh whatsoever.

Your heart freezes in place as they sink in, etching themselves into your thoughts. “You—you what?”

“You befriended me without knowing that I was the man you kissed on the balcony that night, let me bring you coffee and confided in me and bought me the most expensive item of clothing that I currently own,” Seokjin says, a list of things that you loved him for all the same, “and I realized that it didn’t take that kiss to get me to fall for you. It took knowing you. Learning who you are. Who you want to be.”

You feel your heart getting lighter with every syllable that leaves his mouth, every breath that he takes.

The truth is that no man had ever made you feel the way that the mystery man did when you kissed that night. But no man had ever loved you the way that Seokjin did. Treated you the way that Seokjin did. The kiss was a spark.

The friendship was the fire.

“All this time you were right here,” you muse, looking at him. Here in the moonlight you finally understand why he looked so familiar, why the light hit his skin in all the right places, why the sound of his voice had always struck a chord within you. He glows silver in the moonlight and yellow from the halo above his head, he sits beneath the navy sky and lets the starlight decorate his irises, sparkles in a deep brown ocean. “All this time, and I had no idea.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t know,” Seokjin admins sheepishly. “We got to fall in love another way.”

Love?

Could it be?

You’ve never truly been in love. Not the way that your parents are, or the sneaky way you see Yoongi looking at Jungkook sometimes when he’s not looking. But if it feels anything like this, anything like electricity beneath your skin and embers inside your chest, then you think you might be on your way.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask.

“Kinda, yeah,” Seokjin admits crudely.

You feel your cheeks heating up, your heart bubbling within you. You lean in close, watching faintly as he does the same, eyes trained on your lips. “Do you have any other secrets for me?” You murmur, the words hot and heavy on your tongue.

He inches closer to you, lips hovering above your own, this soft, contented smile on his face as he gazes down at you, at the way that you are beginning to love him back, at the way that you already do.

“This.”

The words barely leave his lips before he’s pressing them against yours, and the moment you touch him you know, you know that it’s him, that it’s Seokjin, that he is the man that you have been waiting for. Immediately your body lights up, electric shocks tearing through your veins, blood set alight. He is so familiar, smells and tastes and feels so familiar, like you have known him for a thousand years and you’ll know him for a thousand more. You get the same sensation you had when you last kissed him, all those nights ago, your body going weak, your skin turning to flames, but there’s something else, too.

A burst in your chest. A puff of smoke in your heart.

A fireplace. A little room in your heart, just for the two of you. For you. For your love.

You think you could get used to this.

He pulls away after a few moments and immediately you feel dizzy, like his lips were the only thing keeping you stable, closing your eyes as you burn the feeling into your brain, memorize how his mouth presses against yours.

When you finally open them, there Seokjin sits, kiss-drunk and in love, this goofy, wonderful smile on his face.

“I’m still angry at you for not telling me. You could have saved us so much time,” you declare, not wanting the moment to last too long for fear that you’ll become obsessed.

Seokjin laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. “Even if you forgot who I was tomorrow, I wouldn’t tell you,” he says, this stupid perfect grin on his face, this gorgeous, brilliant grin, “because I would happily fall in love with you all over again.”

God, he is so beautiful. A dream come true. A happy ever after.

The following morning your father saves you the trouble of having to awkwardly explain why you don’t feel comfortable continuing to oversee the resort hotel by letting you know that you’re welcome back in the central building in town and that he’ll have another executive replace you. Thank God, because that would have been one strange phone call.

Luckily, when your parents do eventually meet Seokjin, they are pleased to see that he’s been a loyal hotelier to your family’s conglomerate for several years now, and that he excels at his job. You also think that your mother’s just gotten softer over the years, wishing more for you to be happy than for you to be married to someone you hate.

It’s a good thing Seokjin’s charming. Otherwise, you have no idea what could have happened. But he’s here, and he’s with you, and your parents are happy and so are you. What more could you ask for?

“Your mom really didn’t have to throw this whole party just for me,” Seokjin whispers into your ear as the music plays on inside, this soft classical sound that Yoongi had composed not too long ago.

You turn around to look back in through the window, watching all of the guests waltzing along to the song. Jungkook’s in the back corner, behind the grand piano, and you can see him throwing winks Yoongi’s way every now and then. The sound of the party is barely audible from out here, in the stars’ silence, in the faint way the night whispers, this distant white noise.

“Throwing parties is her thing,” you explain helplessly. “Besides, you’re part of the family now, aren’t you?”

“Hey now, we aren’t married just yet,” he reminds you pointedly. “Unless you—?”

“Only after my father’s retirement next month,” you tell him for the umpteenth time. It’s not that you don’t want to be married. It’s that you don’t have time. You’re about to inherit an entire empire. You would prefer not to be juggling two major life events at once, if you can help it. “Besides, you don’t even have a ring.”

“How do you know that?” He asks innocently.

You smack him in the torso with your satin-gloved hand, shocked. “What?”

“I never said anything,” he teases, looking off to the side far too guiltily for your liking.

You place your hands on your hips and turn firmly to face him. “Kim Seokjin, do you want to marry me?” You demand.

Seokjin laughs, twirling you around before pressing a kiss to your lips, the two of you giggling. “Always!” He declares to the world. “I think about marrying you every day of my life.”

You grin. “Then we will. Then let’s get married. After my father’s retirement, of course.”

“Of course,” Seokjin agrees.

“What do you think the theme should be?” You ask, racking your brain for potential options. You like the idea of a rustic, cottage-y wedding. Or perhaps a more celestial one. Or maybe, if you wanted to go full circle, a masquerade.

Seokjin smiles. It’s clear he already has his answer.

“How about Cinderella?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years

Text

Aparently writing fanfics about Sanders sides AU’s is a thing that I do now

So some of you might know @rondoel made this really cool comic thing about king creativity. Master post here for those who don’t. The internet was given permission to do whatever they want with it. So this is not ‘canon’ to that comic, but an idea that won’t let me be until I write it down. So here’s part one of two:

Lost in thought

Virgil took a deep breath as he wrapped himself around baby Patton and looked up to Janus and Logan expectantly. They were both bowed over a desk with several memories and notes scattered all over. They hadn’t even noticed he’d left the room, and that might’ve been for the best. His attempt at talking to the king hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. He hadn’t been optimistic enough to think that upon his apology the king would split and Roman would run over and embrace him and get everything back to normal. But he’d thought something might change, anything at all. But now all he’d accomplished was making himself feel even worse.

Was Roman really gone gone? Forever?

And Remus? Sure he was a pain to deal with sometimes, but… they’d grown up together.

Virgil wanted them back, even if this new guy- well new to him- hadn’t been so scary, he wanted his friends back. Thomas was sleeping and likely wouldn’t get out of bed until he really had to in order to eat and drink tomorrow. They had survived a day in this chaos, only because Thomas was taking a break. Their host was still exhausted and would likely not be overly active for the next week. And with things being how they are, that was a good thing.

With his coherent thoughts muted, his moral compass and emotions reduced to a non-verbal child and his anxiety incapable of properly analyzing the situation out of fear of causing absolute chaos in the mindscape… None of that could be good. At least Thomas wouldn’t call for them unless king gave him a very urgent reason to. Virgil took a deep breath and returned his attention to the present. Hopeful that Logan and Janus had come up with something after a full day of sitting in this library. Just because Logan was mute, didn’t mean he wasn’t the smartest among them anymore right? And Janus, no matter what else Virgil thought of him, was very clever too. Surely they’d know what to do… Or maybe Virgil could still do something? Logan had once told him that he was needed to get them out of sticky situations when they do come up.

This situation was very sticky.

“Lo? Janus?” he asked softly, mindful of the fact that baby Patton was all tuckered out in his arms.

He gently got up from his spot against the bookcase and readjusted his grip, feeling the way the luxurious fabric moved around his body. The material was soft and warm, but the uniform was nowhere near as comforting as he’d like. He missed his hoodie, but he didn’t dare risk going into his room to look for it in his current condition. Still… maybe he could ask one of the other’s to see if they could find one, even if it was his old pre ‘fitting in’ hoodie… It always made him feel safe. Big enough to hide away in when the world became too much and to hide how small and weak he looked. This outfit made him look like a child next to the others. He never liked that about his appearance. Despite being a nearly thirty year old adult like everyone else, he still looked like a teenager whose body hadn’t fully caught up with his new height. No wonder the king looked down on him. In his eyes, he was probably just a kid. King clearly felt like he was older and wiser than all of them…

He shook himself out of his thoughts. He has to focus on here and now.

“What should we do?” he asked.

The two older sides exchanged a glance, Logan nodded and Janus cleared his throat uneasily.

“We can’t do much…” he admitted reluctantly. King had apparently been right, with everyone else out for the count, his ability to lie was near nonexistent.

“Neither of us are strong enough to stand up to him., he has made sure of that. And even if we were all at full strength, I don’t think me or Logan, even if we were to work together, would be able to match him now. Not even if Patton helped us. Creativity has matured with Thomas and grown stronger. You might stand the best chance, but in your current condition…”

“Me?” Virgil asked shocked. He was only ‘powerful' when Thomas was really overwhelmed or in imminent danger. That is when he could shut everyone else up, or focus them on a single task. And even then he had little control over even himself.

“Yes Virgil,” Janus insisted looking at him like the words held the key to world peace. “Like I explained earlier, he has nothing against you personally.

This is about me, Logan and Patton. But he knows you can shut his ideas down with just a few well-placed doubts in Thomas’ head, as he himself acknowledged. And he is right to fear you Virgil. You were a great source of motivation for Thomas to get creative, but you can take that motivation away just as easily.”

Virgil shook his head. Shutting creativity down completely? Even if… well no, Janus was right. He could. He had told Roman no so often in the past and despite Roman’s promises to strike him down he never even tried. When Thomas asked to get rid of him that first video, Roman hadn’t even tried to confront him head on, pretended they weren’t in the same room… Had Roman been afraid of him? Could he truly hit the brakes? No out of the question.

“I get that we can’t let him just run the place, but Thomas… I can’t hurt Thomas like that. He needs his creativity too much, especially now with everything… It would be devastating,” he insists as he gently runs his fingers through baby Patton’s hair. Creativity helps Thomas cope when life becomes too much.

He catches sight of Logan looking down in what he believes is shame. Why? What was everyone’s deal with this creativity?

“Maybe, if I knew what happened, before me, before the split,” he tries. “Maybe I could try talking to him again? See if he can see it our way?” he suggested. He wanted Roman and Remus back. But his priority had to be with the others. Who knew if the brothers would be able to reverse what the king did? Or if things would go back to normal once the king disappeared? He couldn’t risk that. So first, help everyone else and then see if they can get the twins back. He hated prioritizing like that, but it was for Thomas.

Janus and Logan exchanged another look and then, as one, shook their heads at Virgil.

Logan silently cleaned up their research and turned away to head to his room without another wo… well, glance. It was so fast Virgil couldn’t even decipher the emotion that had flashed underneath the surface of his stoic mask.

Janus on the other hand put on a comforting smile and patted him on the shoulder in an overly friendly gesture. “This is not your burden to carry Virgil. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll think of something. You just focus on staying calm and looking after Patton, alright?”

Without waiting for an answer Janus hurriedly followed Logan and left Virgil alone and slightly frustrated in the library. Great. Just great. It wasn’t the first time he asked about the king. Even before this whole mess, he'd been curious for ages. But he was always dismissed with “it's in the past" and the like. But now it wasn’t in the past anymore and the other’s were still leaving him in the dark. What were they hiding?

Virgil sighed and started wandering. Or he wanted to wander but his “promotion” seemed to lead him to his “ boss’ ” domain the second he lost focus. Soon he found himself stranded in the never ending fields of imagination. Virgil stopped walking, not wanting to interrupt his majesty again, and tried to focus on Patton's steadily moving chest.

He was scared. Without much else to distract him, even the task of protecting baby Patton would soon seize to keep the bad thoughts at bay. Especially with everything being so terrible.

He wanted Roman to be here. He'd know how to distract him. At the very least he wanted his music so he could agonize in peace for a little while. When he listened to music, he could sort through the feelings without them actually translating into thoughts. Just then he saw something appear at his feet.

Curiously he sat down Indian style and noted to his delight that it was his headphones and a music player. He eagerly put it on and scrolled trough the lists. It had all of their Spotify lists downloaded as well as a list that just read ‘TSS’. As he scrolled trough it he learned that it contained all of their lists combined into one along with every song Thomas had ever created and/or performed.

Well. That would do it. He put on the phones, curled himself around Patton once more and started humming.

#Sanders Sides #King Creativity #king ay #Rondoel #my headcanon for that au #Second part will follow

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giant-oc-ballpit · 3 years

Text

They say that the anger of trolls is fierce, to never anger them because they will never let you find peace again. But they never mentioned how fierce the love of a troll is.

However, they do say that Shadow Hunters are the fiercest of all trolls.

And Akkal was always so much like her father.

She admired her father Vol'jin from the very day she was born. Before Akkal even had her name, before she even opened her eyes she was held by him. He heard her first battle cry as she fought the indignities of being brought into the world, and smiled with pride at her waving fists.

Vol'jin named her for the wild summer storms, forces of nature so strong even the Loa could not stop them, only redirect at the most.

As soon as she could move on her own, Akkal was following Vol'jin, to her mother's frustration and annoyance. She watched with fascination as he prayed and spoke with the Loa, soothed to sleep from the sound of Bwonsamdi's (aka "Bansami" or "Bwonsami") voice. She wrapped her little hands around her father's glaive, and left scratch marks on it from her tusks as she tried to put her mouth on it. Her mother once found her practicing her snarl while holding a Rush'kah mask. She tamed her own snake, as red as her hair, and named it Joji.

Akkal followed her father to where he sparred with Rokhan and the other Shadow Hunters as soon as she could walk. She tried to hide, but they sensed her almost immediately. And in true Darkspear fashion, gave her two sticks so she could imitate their moves.

And then stepped in to correct her. And gave her the dullest daggers they had to use, so she could get used to the weight. And for every second longer that they couldn't sense her in the shadows she was rewarded.

Akkal was included more in the drumming and prayers and sacrifices to the Loa. Vol'jin told her their names, and what to ask for in their deals. And to always fulfill her end of the bargain.

Her first prayer was to Bwonsamdi, to declare her loyalty and her power as a Shadow Hunter in training.

Her second prayer was to Hir'eek when she wandered too far in the night and lost her way.

Despite Akkal's clear and close connection with Vol'jin, she was never intended to be the next leader of the Darkspear tribe. That honor/burden went to her older sister Lek'jin.

Akkal had the freedom to make friends, to go be an adventurer. And she finally got to go on a real campaign, after training with her friends. They were all older than her, but all of them would be considered children by anyone else. But even so, they went to Pandaria.

And they were there when Vol'jin was betrayed. The only betrayal Akkal had known was the story of Zalazane. She berated herself for not sensing it coming, only stopping when her friends reminded her that even Vol'jin hadn't felt it until it was almost too late. Akkal didn't want to leave him there, didn't want to leave him in a dark cave alone while he was wounded. She didn't want to tell the world he was dead. But Vol'jin pushed her away and reminded her that "Darkspear never die."

And so she left him. She told Garrosh and the others that he was dead. Akkal didn't have to fake her tears.

Nor did she have to fake them upon his return. She painted her face with a white skull just like him, and followed him to his rebellion and as he laid siege to Orgimmar, where she had spent so much time running and playing, the city where she met her friends.

Akkal was proudest of all when her father was named Warchief. Not because it meant she was more important now that she was the daughter of the warchief, or even because of the idea that she might be warchief one day. (The idea never entered her head.) No, she was proud because now everyone could see how amazing he was, and follow him as she did.

Akkal was there when he died. She followed him to the Broken Shore, and helped carry him back to Orgimmar. She tried so hard to heal him. Akkal and Lek'jin both poured every source of voodoo and mojo into their efforts and none of it did a bit of good. They prayed to every Loa they knew and none of them offered help. Vol'jin pushed their hands away from the Fel-scarred wound on his chest. He said that the spirits were calling his name, and that is was time for him to go to Bwonsamdi.

The crowd below the raised platform that her father's body rested on was blurred as Akkal chanted "Darkspear never die!", hearing the words echoed a thousand times over in unison with her.

The Uncrowned gave her her means of revenge. She killed hundreds of demons, and sends more souls to Bwonsamdi. Akkal returned to the Broken Shore, and found her father's broken tusk in the ashy sand. Now it lives on a leather string around her neck, resting on top of her heart.

The joy at seeing Bwonsamdi again. The awe at meeting new Loa. The sorrow and horror at seeing them die. The overwhelming grief and regret at killing Hir'eek, who had helped her take her first steps in darkness, who had given her blind little sister the means to wander the world on her own strength.

Akkal was overjoyed when Princess Talanji called Vol'jin's spirit to them. She fell even deeper in love with the princess at that, which was impressive given how hard she landed while rescuing her from Stormwind.

She got to kill in his name, by his orders again. And to go up against an old God, too! No greater honor, as far as Akkal was concerned.

There were no answers for Vol'jin. Not yet. But there was an answer for Akkal: that her father was not done fighting yet. That he was still proud of her. She saw him twice more before the Veil shattered: once at Talanji's coronation, and again at their wedding.

And then. A miracle. Working with Bwonsamdi in the realms of death, rescuing the Loa that had died. Being forgiven by Hir'eek. Rezan giving Vol'jin all his power.

"I gonna be a Loa..." He said, looking at his ghostly hands in wonder.

"Oh Fa'da..." Akkal grinned at him. "You have always been my Loa. And you always will be."

#world of warcraft oc #world of warcraft fanfiction #world of warcraft #vol'jin #Vol'jin #Akkal #night fae #night fae storyline #shadowlands #oc x Talanji #princess talanji #Queen Talanji

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skzleeknow12 · 3 years

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Love Conquers All - Hyunjin

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Idol au, Set at MAMA

Word Count: Approximately 4k

“So my next question will go to Cindy,” the presenter said and Cindy immediately froze as the camera panned to her. She looked at her members, who were giving her worried looks, and her leader subtly asked her with her eyes if she wanted her to help. Cindy pressed a strained smile onto her face and subtly shook her head before trying to relax her smile more as she looked at the presenter. Her group was currently being interviewed at the red carpet at their fourth MAMA of their professional career. She took the mic hesitantly handed to her by one of her members, who smiled at her as a source of comfort.

“Cindy, I understand you were meant to have a collaboration this year with Hwanwoong of Oneus and San of Ateez which was supposed to be a highly anticipated part of today’s show? What are your thoughts on not being able to do it?”

Cindy knew the presenters has a script to follow and she could see the guilt in the presenter’s eyes so she simply smiled at her as if to tell her it was ok. What made things worse was that when she looked towards the backstage, she saw all of eight of the boys standing there, looking at her with worry, but his face stuck out the most. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she was the one who had to pay the price for the both of them. She needed to show she was strong so she brought the mic towards her mouth so that she could speak clearly.

“Obviously, I was looking really forward to the collaboration, I don’t know if this information was shared with the public or not but we had already started to rehearse it and were quite a way through it, so it was a bit frustrating when it was cancelled due to specific reasons.” She made sure her voice didn’t waver as she looked at the fans of many other groups behind the camera. Her eyes suddenly caught a certain fan who was waving a large banner with the writing “WE LOVE YOU CINDY!” and that gave her the strength to continue. “I understand that everything happens for a reason though, so I’m sure that the reason the collaboration was called off was the best thing for myself and the other parties. The time that would have been spent in practice gave me a chance to reflect on myself and improve more as well as think back on everything to ensure I don’t make any mistakes in the future.”

“Ah yes of course, at least there was a positive outcome,” the second presenter said, but her eyes were still glued to Cindy which she took as another question about to be thrown her way. “You also wrote one of the songs that your group will be performing today, would you like to tell us about what inspired you to write it and your train of thoughts?”

“The song I wrote, to be honest I related it to myself quite a lot,” she said. “I’ve been misunderstood a lot; when you’re in the public eye, you don’t get a chance to explain yourself, one wrong move that may be made with a pure intention could cost you your mental health as well as your career. The song is basically talking about how no one knows what we’re going through unless they actually go through it the way we have to. I know a lot of people know what I mean when I say life as an idol isn’t always rainbows and sparkles, but unless you actually live this life, then you can’t imagine the hardships it takes to even stand here. We’re humans too, so I guess I was just trying to portray how not everything is as it seems.” She let out a small laugh which the presenters mirrored in order to lighten the mood, but her members and the eight boys on the side could tell how forced and bitter it was.

“But there are obviously fulfilling moments?” the presenter asked, trying to stir the conversation back to a lighter topic. Cindy was aware their group had probably gone overtime by a minute so they had to wrap the interview up to move onto the next group.

“Yes of course, our fans and the members are the most rewarding part,” Cindy said and she smiled with the other members as she heard a loud chorus of screams of delight from their fans.

The interview ended quickly after that and the girls made their way off the red carpet, but obviously fate was not being good to her today. As Cindy walked off the stage, she heard a voice call out to her from the crowd.

“CINDY YOU B****!” a fan cursed, causing her and her members to stop in their tracks, shocked. “FIRST YOU DATE OUR HYUNJIN FOR FAME, AND THEN YOU USE HWANWOONG AND SAN TO MAKE YOURSELF LOOK BETTER. YOU’RE SO DESPERATE. WE HATE YOU!” The words didn’t hurt as much as the noises of agreement coming from the audience, and the angry protests and comforting cheers of her fans did not help drown them out. She turned to look at the eight boys, one of them particularly who looked as if someone had just slapped his face. He noticed how her facial expressions showed how she was trying to stop herself from crying and he wanted nothing more than to just engulf her in a hug and tell her it would all be alright. Cindy’s leader quickly ushered her off the stage as her members followed, and they were glad to see their seniors as well as close friends, Oneus, waiting for them at the end, out of sight of the cameras. The members gave her encouraging smiles as Hwanwoong gave her a brotherly hug. Xion and Keonhee immediately came to her and put their arms around her, quickly engaging her in a conversation sure to make her laugh, whilst her members and the rest of the Oneus members talked quietly about what had just happened. Whilst they were walking away, they heard the presenters call the next group onto the stage.

“Please give a warm welcome to… Stray Kids!”

(Time Skip)

The stage erupted into flames as BTS’ Fire started playing and that sent the crowd into a frenzy of screams, not to mention how all the other idols, who were meant to look professional and show minimum reaction, jumped out of their seats as the performers on stage got into formation. Cindy and her members were no exception and she, along with her other member, started energetically dancing, living up to their positions as main and lead dancer. The Oneus members next to them were singing the lyrics loudly and if any outsider came in they would have thought they were at a concert instead of an award show. Cindy happened to turn to her left and was immediately surprised and freaked out when she saw Hyunjin’s eyes trained on her, and it looked so extremely obvious. She panicked and looked around when her heart stopped. Right in the front row of where the fans were seated, she saw a camera pointed towards them, catching the whole interaction. She just felt so overwhelmed at that point that she tapped her leader and told her she was going out for some fresh air. They knew they couldn’t just leave halfway through but her leader saw how troubled she looked so she helped sneak her backstage. This did not go unnoticed by the Stray Kids members and Hyunjin quickly turned to Bangchan to ask him for permission to leave. Noticing Bangchan’s hesitance, Minho patted Hyunjin’s back, as if telling him to go. Hyunjin smiled gratefully before disappearing backstage, not knowing about the camera still recording him, the one that had caused Cindy to leave so suddenly.

Hyunjin walked down the corridor of dressing rooms, ignoring the looks of surprise the staff members were giving him, all of then wondering why he was backstage and not in the idol sitting area. He finally reached Cindy’s groups dressing room, just as her manager walked out. She was evidently surprised as she quickly pulled him away from the door to the room and took him behind the vending machine, out of sight.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she hissed in fear as she looked around.

“Please let me talk to her, I’ve not heard from her since Dispatch outed our relationship,” Hyunjin pleaded. Cindy’s manager had been one of the first to find out about their relationship, other than his manager. The members and the company as well as the rest of the staff ended up finding out only a few days later than the two managers.

“Hyunjin, please understand,” her manager said desperately, “I know you both love each other, even someone as inexperienced as me can see that. But you need to be prepared that maybe you won’t be able to go back to how you were. Think about the reputation of your groups too. And think about her. That stunt at the red carpet today didn’t help her at all, especially because it only targeted her.”

“I need her to know I still love her; I’m willing to go through the hardships for her.” He looked at her manager desperately and she sighed in defeat as she patted his shoulder lightly.

“Don’t take too long, you need to get back,” she said sternly and he nodded his head. He thanked her with a hug before quickly rushing towards his initial destination. He paused a bit before he opened the door, slowly peaking his head in. the sight in front of him broke his heart. Cindy was sitting on the floor against the wall and her cheeks were tearstained, but she was no longer crying. She hadn’t realised the door had opened and her hands were playing with an unopened bottle of water. Hyunjin stepped in and lightly cleared his throat, and that’s when she looked up. Her eyes widened so fast that if they had been in a different situation it would have looked comical. She stood up and the bottle of water dropped from her hands, rolling around on the floor without a care in the world. Time stopped as the two stared at each other, none of them knowing what to say. There were so many unspoken words between them, yet the speech Hyunjin had prepared in his head completely vanished. He decided to make the first move and he stepped a bit closer to her, checking to see if was uncomfortable. She didn’t show any signs of discomfort, so he carried on walking towards her until all she had to do was lift her hand and he would be within her reach.

Cindy’s tears cascaded down her face, soft sniffles following them. She hesitated for a second before slowly closing the distance as she walked into his embrace, crying against his chest. Hyunjin paused for only a split second before holding onto her tightly as if scared that she would be ripped away from him, whilst running his fingers through her hair. He kissed the top of her head as her cries turned to small hiccups. She gripped onto his shirt tightly before slowly pulling away, eyes filled with fear.

“You need to go,” she said and Hyunjin’s heart broke as he watched her take a step away from him, “our groups will get ruined-” She was about to continue rambling on when Hyunjin captured her lips in his, muffling any more words coming out of her mouth. His hands were loose around her waist and his eyes shut as he moulded his lips against hers, but after a few seconds he noticed she wasn’t kissing him back. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he looked at her teary eyes, and she took that as an opportunity to push him away harshly.

“What’s wrong?” he started but she immediately cut him off.

“What are you doing?” she asked as her eyes darted around the room fearfully, and it dawned on Hyunjin just how scared she was. “Hyunjin, we can’t-”

“But why can’t we?” he asked exasperatedly looking as if he too was going to break down into tears. “What’s so wrong with us being together if it makes us happy? Why can’t people just accept that you’re the only one for me and I can’t live without you in my life?” His words made her feel so heartbroken because she knew he was right, and she knew that she couldn’t live without him either. But there was no way they would be able to avoid the hate they would get from both fandoms collectively, not to mention how it could have a huge toll on their groups considering how well they were doing at the moment.

“Hyunjin, you were fine before we dated,” she said gently but he shook his head firmly.

“But I always knew that something was missing from my life,” he said as he took her hand in his, slightly smiling as he felt hers tighten around his, “when you came into my life, I knew that you were the one. You were the one who completed me, and no one but you can take that space in my heart. Please.” He closed his eyes as he felt the tears run down his cheek. He suddenly felt something soft against his skin and when he opened his eyes once more, he saw her wiping his tears away with her thumb. She held onto his cheek and he melted into her touch, but the moment was short-lived as she took her hand away.

“Hyunjin, I… I think we should officially break up.” Her tone was soft and she was no longer crying, but Hyunjin could hear how she strained her voice as she tried to keep it steady, and he noticed how it faded out at the end as she breathed deeply.

“You… you don’t mean that,” he said brokenly as he tried to read her face, but she maintained her expression, keeping it emotionless.

“As hard as it is for us,” she whispered, “this is the only way to keep everyone off our backs, and to save our careers. We have our groups to think of, we can’t be selfish.”

“But what if I want to be selfish for once?” Hyunjin burst out and Cindy looked at him, surprised. When the two had started dating, they had agreed that they would work their relationship around their schedules so as not to mess anything up for their groups. He was probably one of the most selfless people she had ever met. To hear him say that he wanted to be selfish for once, for her, made her heart leap despite her dejected mood.

“What if I want to become selfish, for us?” he asked again and she looked at the ground, trying to avoid his gaze. He sighed deeply and she knew he was trying to hold his tears back for the umpteenth time. “But if that’s not what you really want, then… then I’ll let you go.” Cindy looked up at him and he bit his lip, swallowing the lump in his throat. “But only on one condition.” Cindy’s heart was tearing apart as she looked at him, waiting for him to speak again. She couldn’t believe that they were ending everything, even though none of them wanted to.

“And that condition is?” she asked, sniffling slightly.

“Look me straight in the eye. And tell me that… you no longer love me.” His words struck her hard and for a second all she could do was blink at him.

“W-what?” she whispered.

“Tell me that you don’t love me anymore, and that that’s the reason you want to end us,” he said, his voice wavering a bit. “If you do that, then I’ll believe you, but if you don’t, then I know that you still want me just as I want you. And if you still love me like I love you, then we will get through all the hardships together, and I’ll always fight for you no matter what.” If Cindy hadn’t been such an emotional wreck at that point then she would have rolled her eyes at how hard he made the decision. On one side was her love for Hyunjin, and on the other was the harsh industry.

She looked him in the eye and her heart tore apart as she saw the hope vanish from his eyes. Taking a shaky breath, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Hyunjin, I…” she tried to get the words out, but it was harder to lie when the person she loved more than anyone was looking at her as if his whole world had ended. “I… oh, screw it!”

Before Hyunjin could even react, Cindy grabbed his face with both of her hands and smashed her lips onto his, surprising him. He stood still for a moment before quickly snaking his arms around her waist and bringing her impossibly nearer to him. The kiss somehow made their hearts flutter yet thump loudly at the same time. Cindy could feel the butterflies in her stomach as Hyunjin gently tilted her head back, deepening the kiss with his soft lips. The kiss was desperate, yet slow and meaningful, passionate but not too steamy. The two finally broke apart, panting a little from the lack of air. They closed their eyes, savouring the feeling of being in each other’s embrace. Hyunjin kissed her temple as she hummed softly, before sharing a heart-warming smile.

“Well, I did not think that was how you would answer my question,” Hyunjin said teasingly as Cindy lightly slapped him on the arm. But then she realised a big problem.

“Hyunjin, this will be so bad for our groups-” she tried to explain but was cut off by a voice at the door.

“Don’t worry about us,” Chan said as he walked forward with Cindy’s groups leader, “what matters is that the two of you are okay. Thankfully, none of us have to deal with a depressed Hyunjin anymore!” Hyunjin scowled at Chan playfully as they all laughed.

“Cindy wasn’t any better,” her leader said, smiling fondly at the couple in front of her, “but I’m glad you two are back together now. And don’t worry about the antis, haters are gonna hate, we already knew we would get backlash for these kind of things when we first became trainees.”

“Exactly,” Chan agreed, “as long as you two are happy, no one has any right to say anything to you. Besides, you have all of us with you. And our true fans will accept your happiness.”

“But, um, I think we should get your guys’ makeup done again, you both look like a mess,” her leader said and Hyunjin grabbed onto Cindy as the girl was about to playfully throw herself at her leader for her comment. Chan and Cindy’s leader gave the couple equally motivating smiles and told them to come straight back to the seating area after their makeup was done. Hyunjin’s stylist came into the room along with Cindy’s and they busily started reapplying the makeup onto the two idols, not fussed about them ruining it as they too were happy the couple were back together again. Throughout their makeup reapplication, Cindy and Hyunjin held each other’s hands, sitting in a comfortable silence while the two stylists chatted to each other.

As they got closer to the seating area, Cindy suddenly remembered what had caused her to go running off.

“Hyunjin, we were being filmed,” she whispered to him as they stood outside the entrance. He turned to look at her and for a second he looked panicked before he showed her his signature smirk.

“Good, now we can give them something more to film,” he said as he held her hand. Her eyes widened but after looking at Hyunjin’s reassuring smile, she felt most of her nerves slip away. The two walked in and Cindy was glad to see that Oneus were just about to perform; she didn’t want to miss their stage. As they made their way to their seats, the other idols stood up to bow respectfully as they were all colleagues, and the looks on their faces when they saw the couples entwined hands was the most comical thing Cindy had ever seen. Many of them whispered words of encouragement whilst others gave them envious but approving looks. Hyunjin walked Cindy to her seat and to everyone’s surprise as well as delight, he gave her a small but sweet kiss on the cheek as he squeezed her hand tightly before making his way towards his members, all who were looking at him in astonishment as well as pride.

Cindy sat down next to her leader, who was trying not to laugh.

“When I told you not to care about other’s reactions, I didn’t mean this, but I’m not complaining,” she laughed and the rest of the members grinned at Cindy happily. Then, Oneus’ performance started and they were all too preoccupied with singing and dancing along to think of anything else.

…

“And the Album of the Year Award goes to… Stray Kids, congratulations!” The stadium erupted into loud cheers and screams as the Stray Kids members looked around in shock, not being able to believe that the MC had just called their name. Bangchan recovered first and quickly ushered the boys to the main stage, whilst bowing and thanking the other idols who congratulated them. Hyunjin looked dazed as he walked past, but as he passed Cindy he gave her a playful wink as she enthusiastically gave him two thumbs up. The members reached the stage and gratefully accepted the award before going on to making their speech.

“Hello, we are Stray Kids!” Bangchan started thanking everyone for helping them and expressed how grateful they all were for the award, and the members smiled as they heard their fans cheering for them. After he finished, he looked around at the others, asking if anyone else wanted to say anything. To their surprise, Hyunjin stepped forward, even though he never gave acceptance speeches. Bangchan stepped to the side as Hyunjin came in front of the mic, and the audience started cheering once again as they saw him.

“Stay, thank you so much for giving us this award, I have no words to be able to thank you enough for this,” he began as he looked around the audience. Finally, his eyes went to the idols seating section, where he sought out a particular face. After finding it, he smiled as he saw the happiness and pride on Cindy’s face and quickly continued. “I also want to thank a special person who has made this past year one of the best years of my life. We’ve come across a few hardships, and I’m so glad we were able to overcome them. I love you.” Cindy was beyond relieved when she heard the audience scream for the umpteenth time that night, and that made her so happy.

The Stray Kids members made their way back to the seating place and by chance there were seats right next to Cindy’s group so they sat down there. The group reshuffled so that Cindy and Hyunjin ended up sitting next to each other. Hyunjin bashfully put an arm around her shoulders and Cindy laughed at his playfulness before she spotted the same fan-camera filing them. She turned towards Hyunjin and he followed her gaze, before leaning to whisper something in her ear.

“Just wave and then they’ll get confused,” he said, trying not to laugh, and so they did just that. After a few seconds of them smiling and waving at the camera, the fan hesitantly put it down and turned her attention towards the stage instead. Hyunjin and Cindy grinned at each other before also focusing on the stage. And when Cindy’s group won an award for, Hyunjin made sure to clap for them the most, to many of the idol’s amusement.

After the award show ended, the two groups, along with Oneus, decided to go out for a celebratory meal in happiness of all of them winning an award that night. Cindy leaned her head on Hyunjin’s shoulder as they watched their friends talk excitedly with each other, and for the first time in their relationship, they felt truly and blissfully at peace. They finally didn’t have to worry about Dispatch or any other reporters, anti-fans etc. They could finally be with each other the way they wanted. Of course, there was bound to be backlash, but as the saying goes, love conquers all.

A.N// Thank you for taking the time out for reading this. I also wanted to say a big big big thank you to everyone who read my Lee Know Final Escape au, it felt amazing when I saw how many notes it had, I genuinely expected that it wouldn’t be liked too much but THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH!! I am writing more au’s and I’ve thought of writing some series too (I’m in the middle of writing a Minho au Mafia/ Gang etc series so if anyone has any ideas for that plsss let me know :) ) so I will try harder to improve in the future. Thank you once again!!!

#straykidsfanfiction #straykidsstory #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin #idolau #stray kids fluff #straykidsangst

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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Small Gods: Lost Objects - 1

Lost Objects: A Thor Fanfic

Lost Objects Masterlist | More Small Gods

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Thor x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 1831

Warnings: Angst, PTSD, Grief (smut on series)

Synopsis: Thor has lost a lot in a very short period of time and he’s worried about losing himself too. He goes to the one person who understands loss.

A/N: Reader is a minor god.

Chapter 1

Thor was lost.

He had been for a while now, though it was hard to measure. Partially because he had lived such a long, long time and most of it had gone by without much disrupting his enjoyment or general world view and then all at once it was just one thing after another and he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath.

Perhaps it had begun to lose himself back when his father had first banished him to Midgard. He had certainly felt lost for a while there, but usually, he looked back at that as the start of finding who he truly was. Becoming worthy of Mjolnir and meeting Jane had been so significant, even when he had been forced to destroy the Bifrost and watched his brother fall to what he had thought was his death, Thor has still felt himself.

After that, it was one thing after another. A barrage of pain and loss and he couldn’t keep up with it. His mother, his brother, his relationship, his father, Mjolnir, his friends, his planet, his brother again, half of the universe, more of his friends. Somewhere in all that loss and grief and guilt, he’d lost his direction and that core feeling of who he was, and he didn’t know what to do so he could stop feeling all this pain.

Then, in one single moment of clarity, he thought of you.

Midgard was not a world of gods. Gods would visit, of course, Thor himself favored the small blue planet, but the line between science and magic was large, and rarely were gods born on the planet.

Yet sometimes the magic would seep through. Maidardians liked to pray even when they didn’t know they were. They would wish for certain things or give worship to them. If enough did, then a god would be born. They were minor deities and rarely held much power. Yet they served their function and grew with the population's devotion.

None were prayed to quite as often as you.

You were not an easy person to track down. Thor knew that he had to find you in the last place he looked or else it would be not at all.

So he started at the finish. Going to the last conceivable place on the planet you might find a minor deity and announcing loudly that he would give up looking after trying the small cabin on the side of the hill. Just as he put his hand on the door handle it swung open and he was greeted by you.

Along with the cable knit sweater that was three sizes too big, spotted with holes, and frayed at the hems, you wore a pair of jeans that were obviously someone’s favorite but based on the fit, that someone was not you. You had a pair of mismatched socks on your feet, a single fingerless glove on your left hand, and a ring on every finger on your right, most of them the engagement variety.

You looked up at him and smiled. “Thor,” you said warmly. “Are you lost?”

He smiled, trying to put on the brave face he wore for everyone. He was strong after all. The strongest Avengers. If he showed weakness, then he’d be someone who wasn’t Thor, the god of thunder.

“Yes,” he said. “No. That is… maybe.”

You stepped aside and he ducked his head under the door frame and entered your cottage. It was impossibly large inside what had seemed like a tiny building. It was cluttered in the sense that a hoarder who hadn’t left the house for fifty years except to bring more things in, is cluttered. There were stacks of parcels that were addressed to other people, baskets full of socks that lacked a pair, toys, and pacifiers that looked sad and weathered, bowls sat on top of every flat surface full of jewelry in many shapes, sizes, and styles.

Thor wound his way through until he found a couch. It had seen better days and he had to move a one-eyed teddy bear to take a seat.

“Can I get you a drink? I have tea or coffee? Not much else I’m afraid,” you offered.

“Coffee,” Thor said. He wasn’t sure he really wanted it, but he was grateful for the opportunity to get his thoughts in order.

The sound of you puttering around in the kitchen was the only sound at all. Thor thought of all the things he had lost and exactly why he had come here. When you returned he still wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say. You handed Thor a mug. It was black with the silhouette of a penguin on it with the words ‘LINUX, open mind, open-source’ written on it. You had a teacup, it was floral and had gold around the rim.

“The coffee is Kopi Luak,” you said as he took the mug from you. “It was confiscated in New Zealand customs and ended up here.”

“Kopi Luak?” Thor asked.

You shook your head and sat down beside him. “The beans are passed through the stomach of an animal called a Civit before being harvested and roasted. I can’t say I approve of the process, but I am limited to what passes through here,” you explained. “Now, what is it you’ve lost?”

“My brother…” Thor said, the word coming out quickly like it was determined to jump its place in his mental queue.

“Oh, Thor,” you said, putting your hand on his. “I deal with lost things. People? They are above my jurisdiction. The prayers for lost people are more for your realm than this one.”

Thor sagged and put his cup down. He ran his hands through his hair the pain and frustration he felt almost overwhelming him. “There’s been so much. Too much. My whole family. My friends. Asgard is gone. I don’t know where to go or what to do. I feel lost and I don’t know how to find my way back out.”

You took his hand. His large palms dwarfed yours. “Thor, I am a minor god,” you said. “What you have been through is awful and if I could help I would, but I deal in socks and loose change. Your identity is yours. You still have it. It’s here -“ you touched his forehead and moved your hand to his chest just above his heart. “- and here.”

Tears pricked Thor’s eyes and he wiped them away in frustration. “I don’t want to feel this way anymore.”

“That I can understand too well,” you said. You wrapped your arms around him and very gradually he let himself sag into your arms. “You are very young,” you said quietly. ��It is a large burden to carry. Can I give you some advice? I can’t promise it will be good.”

“Please,” he said, his voice cracking with the desperation he felt.

“Grieve, Thor,” you said. “It isn’t weak to love people. It isn’t weak to feel pain at their loss. Let yourself have your sorrow. Feel it. Let it out. I am a god on a planet of mortals. I have lost more than has ever come to me. They were your parents and your brother. Your friends. Your home. You loved them all and now they are gone. That is terrible. It’s terrible, Thor. They didn’t deserve that and neither did you. Grieve. Feel sad. Cry. Wail. Scream. If you don’t experience your grief, you lose more of yourself than you can possibly know.”

“I am the strong one,” Thor said. “I can’t show such weakness.”

“There is nothing weak about experiencing your emotions,” you said gently, your fingers tangling into his hair and massaging his scalp. “Besides, who do you need to be strong for now. It is just me here, everyone else is gone.”

He wrapped a large arm around your lap and he started to cry. It started small and silent, his tears just running down his cheek as he pressed his face into your lap. Soon he was crying in big wracking sobs. He cried for his mother and his father. He cried for Loki. For Jane. He cried for Heimdal and Fandral and Volstagg. For Asgard, the home where he grew up and had so many happy memories. He cried for the people he couldn’t save and for the ones he did that he let down when he didn’t have the strength to lead them. He cried for dwarves on Nidavellir and for Mjolnir the weapon they had forged him and was like a friend in of itself. He cried for Natasha and Tony. And for the fact that one day he would lose all the rest too.

You held him, never once telling him to quiet. You just let him cry in your arms, your fingers moving over his scalp and caressing his hair.

As the tears slowed and then stopped he felt a strange sense of relief. He didn’t feel better, but lighter perhaps. He sat up and wiped his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” you assured him. “Come; there is something I have which might interest you.”

You got up and he followed after you. You led him past more parcels and piles of letters. They started to appear yellowed with age and as he wound through the room the artifacts got older too. Barrels of spice and coins from countries that no longer existed. Looms of silks that had been damaged by saltwater. You stopped at a table. It was remarkably bare except for a piece of velvet draped over a small pile in the middle. You lifted the plush fabric and revealed a pile of broken metal and what was clearly the handle of Mjolnir. He knew it better than he knew himself. The length that was too short due to Loki’s meddling. The intricate scrollwork on the cap that held the leather strap he used to keep hold of it. The dark wood with the silver swirling up its length. It was his hammer, broken but his.

“Each time you prayed that it could be returned more of it came to me. There is still some missing but if you want you can stay. Pray for it at night and I think together we can repair it,” you explained.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Thor asked as he ran his hand over Mjolnir’s handle.

“It would be an honor,” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had company and it’s never been from someone of your status.”

He turned and looked at you, a frown forming on his face as you smiled up at him. “I am not a king.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” you said. “But if you believe it is, then you are one step closer to finding what you’ve lost and I guess I can help after all.”

// NEXT

#thor #thor x reader #thor odinson #thor fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #lost objects

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dragonseattofu · 3 years

Text

Spaces Between My Fingers (NEO TWEWY fanfiction)

Summary: Neshiki NEO reunion. NEO TWEWY spoilers. Everyday for two years after Neku’s disappearance, Shiki sits behind Hachiko talking to what looks like herself, her hand securely in another that she can feel but can’t see. Warnings for depression and panic attacks. Check source content for Ao3 link.

Preview:

“Great work on the presentation Misaki-san!”

“Excellent job as always Misaki-san! Have a wonderful evening!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Shiki smiled and nodded at the outpouring of compliments from her staff as they filed out of the conference room. It was her last meeting of the day, and she was exhausted. Never in a million years could she have imagined being the youngest CEO of any clothing company, much less her own brand at the age of eighteen. But, being young didn’t make the responsibilities of a trending brand owner any less tiring. On the bright side, the remainder of the evening was all hers to spend at her own pace.

With that in mind, Shiki gathered her laptop and papers under her arm, turned off the lights and closed the door behind her. She retrieved her messenger bag from the coat rack in her office, pulled the keys from the front pocket, and said a habitual goodnight into the empty space before locking the office for the night.

The soft tapping of rubber on carpet filled the empty hallway on her way to the elevator, the sounds of mindess instrumental music soothed her tired nerves on her voyage down from the eight floor. Slow clicking of gears moving, and the opening the heavy metal doors woke her from her stupor, gesturing light apologies on her way out as more bodies piled into the elevator.

Fresh air filled her lungs as she finally reached the ground level, going westward toward the neighborhood coffee shop where she’s a regular, and the barista started mixing her drink before she could even fish out her wallet. Condensation on the side of the plastic cup collected at her fingertips, leaving a wet smudge on the door as she exited, her sneakered shoes guiding her in the direction of a statue, faithfully waiting for his master that will never come.

Shiki takes a seat behind Hachiko, and looks down at her watch. 19:01. She chuckles, she’s a minute late. She pops an earbud in her ear, and rests her right hand, palm up, on the side of the seat next to her, and waits. She takes another sip of her drink, licking her lips, savoring the overly sweet beverage on the verge of crystallization.

A couple walks by talking about dinner plans, and a group of female students discussing Prince’s recent social media posts pass by as well. A shiba stops in front of her, tilting its head to the side for a brief moment, almost as if he sees something that others can’t, before his owner tugs him along.

Her breath catches and she waits for a split second before she feels a slight shift in the wind around her, an even lighter pressure on her palm. She exhaled, relishing the feel of the spaces between her fingers filling, and she smiled.

“So, I had another productive meeting today....”

She speaks for about an hour into the wind about how her day went, what her last conversation with Eri was like, even about her new not inanimate pet, Mrs. Mew. From afar, most people think she’s talking to herself, those closer assume she’s on the phone. Little do they know that they are both wrong, but that hasn’t stopped her from coming to Hachiko everyday, and speaking into the void as if she’s carrying on a conversation with a long lost friend.

She’s not exactly sure when she started doing this, but it became her way of, well, grieving. After a couple months of blissful dating, getting to know one another outside the confines of a death game, she had sort of … fallen in love.

Only for that love to be suddenly ripped from her with nothing left but a note, from a not so helpful composer. The first couple of days were devastating, she didn’t leave her bed, she wouldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The weeks thereafter weren’t much better. Eri, and Rhyme were constantly by her side, making sure she didn’t end up in the hospital for malnuritionment. Beat showed up soon after to smack some sense into her, mostly figuratively.

Beat slammed open her bedroom door, Eri and Rhyme trailing behind yelling at him to calm down. His usual sympathetic expression was replaced with one of impatience and frustration.

“Shiki, enough of this. Get up and go eat somethin’!”

An empty gaze was his only response. He growled, stomping into her room and ripped open the curtains, beams of sunlight showering her floor, her bed, her listless face. In the light he could see that she lost a significant amount of weight in such a short period of time. She was already lean before, now her face began to look sunken in from the starvation and constant darkness. Beat suddenly felt another overwhelming wave of emotion sweep over him.

“This is ridiculous, girl, ya can’t keep goin’ like this or you’ll…” He choked up; he didn’t complete his thought; he just couldn’t. Rhyme and Eri lunged forward to try and hold back the blonde as he grabbed Shiki by the front of her shirt, pulling their faces closer, glaring at her with an intensity he didn’t think he would ever use on her.

Her world shook as droplets fell onto Shiki’s glasses. She could feel Beat shaking from his grasp, his usually clear cerulean eyes were stormy, almost like the sky had broken. A lump formed in her throat. She forgot through her heartbreak that other people might also feel the same pain she was feeling. Sure, she was his first partner, but Beat was also his partner too.

For a tense moment nobody moved, Beat stared into Shiki’s eyes hoping to get his message across wordlessly, Eri and Rhyme holding onto Beat on both sides to restrain him. She had every right to grieve and her pain was more than he could ever imagine, but Beat needed her to know that she wasn’t alone, and that he was there for her, if she would let him. He couldn’t afford to lose her before he got the chance to save him.

Ever so slowly, Shiki moved her one hand over Beat’s. She grabbed a fistful of his jersey in her other hand. For that excruciating week, she went from feeling anxious and depressed to just numb. Now she felt relieved that there was someone else who understood this persistent gnawing ache in her chest. Brotherly simpleton Beat wasn’t being sympathetic to her heartache, but rather empathetic in her mourning.

Her face started to prickle, as the wells that had dried up started to free fall again. She moved to grab Beat, nestling her head into his chest and just … cried. He rested his large hand on her head and hugged her tightly, supporting each other in this moment of catharsis. They stayed like that until Shiki passed out again.

When she came too, Beat, Eri and Rhyme stayed with her that day to make sure she consumed something.

Sometime in the afternoon, Eri decided to attack Beat to get some measurements for a pants design. Big muscular Beat hiding behind tiny Rhyme who was doing little to nothing to protect her older brother from the teen designer wielding a measuring tape going too close for comfort to his ... particular body parts. Shiki graced them all with a smile none of them saw in days.

Big brother Beat decided to have all his meals with her that day forward. Eri said that she could handle this, and found him to be a nuisance, but he didn’t care. Slowly Shiki’s appetite and strength returned, more places ventured outward, even the whirling of her bobbins clicking could be heard throughout the house.

Everytime she had a relapse, a brief moment of chest-tightening, her breath catching, she’d reach out and Beat would be there, embracing her until the panic attack subsided.

With her good days and her bad days, Shiki decided to go back to school after taking a month of absence. Eri got her back into the sewing club, pelting her with designs to keep her busy. The distraction was helpful, almost becoming necessary.

Sometimes she’d go to the skate park, sitting on the bench watching Beat and Rhyme do ollies in front of a setting sun. She would sketch out pieces inspired by the skaters, a little black cat signature adorning each one. Rhyme uploaded some of her designs and completed outfits on a popular social media platform, and named it Gatto Nero with her permission. Sooner than later, Shiki had a following of over one thousand, then five, then over ten approaching twenty. It also helped that her best friend was an influencer and modeled everything Shiki made.

Before anyone knew it, Shiki was approached by the founder of Jupiter of the Monkey, who was impressed by her work, and offered her an intern position while she was still in school. With more tasks to keep her busy, everyday slipped by faster and faster, and the relapses became more infrequent.

A year had passed since his disappearance, and Shiki never really forgot, more so distracted herself with other things to keep her busy on a day like today. After classes, Shiki would go to her internship to work on a couple of assignments and with her last meeting with her supervisor over, she headed out to catch the train home.

She slowed her pace down when she passed the 104 building, mindlessly loitering near the window displays to check out the trends. The Scramble Crossing was busy as usual, and she found herself wandering closer and closer to the statue of Hachiko.

Shiki stared at the bronze canine, her mind drifting to the promise she made quite a long time ago. Realizing she wasn’t in a rush to go home anyway, she took a seat behind the statue.

“Well Neku,” she hesitated, having not uttered his name in almost a year, “it looks like I didn’t keep my promise to be here everyday waiting for you to come back.”

“I-I’m sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.” She could feel her anxiety bubble in her throat, like digging at a wound that had scabbed over and was threatening to bleed out again. Thinking of him was painful, but she realized then that they did have a lot of memories, wonderful, happy memories that she had forgotten in her grief. Memories that were hers to hold onto for as long as she wanted them. Shiki could feel her heartbeat slowing down, the tension in her body subsiding ever so slightly.

“I hope that you’re alright somewhere out there,” she said into the open space in front of her, “I-I miss you.”

Just then a slight touch graced her hands on her lap, but when she looked up, no one was there. The ticking of the crosswalk signs, the pattering of shoes on asphalt, and the shouts of last minute sales continued on as if time and sound hadn’t stopped for a moment. Not exactly sure what she was doing, Shiki raised her hand out in front of her, and a second later, she felt a resistance, an air of familiarity filling the spaces between her fingers effortlessly.

Shiki jumped up in surprise, her bag holding Mr. Mew clattering to the floor before whispering, “...Neku?”

An invisible thumb tapped the back of her hand lightly. She couldn’t hear him, she couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. He was probably in the UG, but for some reason, she could tell he was standing right in front of her.

She sobbed, “Is that really you ---?”

“Shiki! Why ya cryin’? What happened, yo?”

The connection was lost as Beat skated up to her, visibly concerned, looking for some clue as to why his best friend was crying in public. He pulled out a crumpled cloth handkerchief from his back pocket, a gift from Rhyme that came in handy more times than he thought it would.

Shiki continued to stare at the open space, trying to make sense of what had just happened, grasping for what she thought was remnants of a lost love, but the sensation was gone. Whatever was there, it wasn’t there anymore. Even if he was in the game, she shouldn’t have been able to touch anything in the UG. Her mind raced with different jumbled thoughts. What was that? How did that happen? Why now?

“Earth to Shiki!” Beat waved his hand in front of her, successfully snapping her out of her trance.

She looked at him, accepted the handkerchief and dried her tears. Whatever that was, talking about it would only land her another session at the doctor's office. She knew Beat would believe her, but after her long painful year of recovery that he had witnessed, she doubted he would be open to the thought of dredging that wound up again.

Shiki didn’t trust her words, so instead she reached over and hugged him. Without hesitation, Beat returned the gesture. When her sobs had subsided, he gently asked, “let’s bounce?”

In an overprotective brotherly way, he kept his arm around her shoulders after retrieving her bag from the floor.

“Yeah.”

The next morning, Shiki found the day dragging on. She was on autopilot at school, and her assignments at her internship were more clerical in nature, requiring very little brain power. Anything not immediately due would be tomorrow’s problem.

She rushed out of the office building, crossed the scramble and stopped in front of the metal statue. Shiki held her breath as she sat down exactly where she was yesterday. Her muscles tensed as she inhaled deeply.

“So I might be losing my mind, and everyone will think I’m crazy but if you are here, if-if you’re really still here, I’d want you to know that … I miss you Neku.”

For an agonising moment, nothing happened. She wasn’t really sure what she was hoping for. Was everything yesterday just her imagination? Was she just feeling sentimental and willed the tactile sensation into reality?

After a couple more minutes of fruitless imagination, Shiki was about to give up and leave when she felt something, no, someone, grab her hand. Frightened at the sudden contact, Shiki looked down to see that nothing was there, just the fortune lines on her open palm and her silver pinky ring. Yet someone was there, holding her hand in a way she hadn’t felt in so long. She smiled as her eyes began to water.

“It’s you isn’t it.” She said more confidently, though she felt nothing of the sort. A light tap on the back of her hand was her only affirmation.

“I have so many questions for you, but I’ll save them for when you get back. The only one I need to ask is w-will you be back?” She tentatively prodded the air metaphorically, hoping she hadn’t pressed her luck. Another light tap had her smiling once more.

“Beat’s going to kill you if you ever make it out of the UG. Rhyme’s not going to stop him. Eri hates your guts for leaving me.” She chuckled at that. She felt her hand move slightly, almost as if he sat down next to her. He brushed his unseen thumb over her knuckles.

A couple of people passing by looked at Shiki as if she wasn’t having a completely one sided conversation with herself in broad daylight. She honestly couldn’t care less. She rambled on about random things, hoping to catch him up on the entire year he had missed, only the good things because she wasn’t quite ready to talk about the bad ones. She would have continued well into the night if her phone hadn’t rang.

“Girl, why you don pick up ya phone? I’ve been tryin’ to reach ya for hours!” Beat shouted so loudly into her phone she had to remove it from her ear.

“Shiki, where are you?” the smaller girl gently inquired, seemingly having pulled her brother’s phone away from him before he crushed it, “he was about to call the police if you didn’t pick up.”

She could still feel their hands interlocked, but reluctantly replied, “I’m at Hachiko, Rhyme. Tell Beat I’ll text when I leave and get home.”

“Beat wait -- , nevermind he just left. We’ll come pick you up. Just stay there. See you soon!” The phone line clicked.

Shiki sighed, “Beat and Rhyme are coming to get me. It won’t be long before they show up.” She paused, wondering if she could ask what has been on her mind, if the fates were on her side today.

“I’ll promise to be here, everyday, waiting for you to get back to the RG. Until then, can you promise to meet me here, everyday, until I can see you again?” She knew this went against the rules of the game, but the game had dictated her happiness for long enough. If there was any chance of being with him, invisible or otherwise, she would take it.

Her hand moved again, this time their fingers separated, but not completely. His pinky finger wrapped around her silver ring, the same one she wore during the first game, and a new promise was made as they gently shook on it.

And then he was gone. Her hand tingled from the absence of his light touch. She thought she could see faint sparkles from where she presumed he had been sitting. When the Bito siblings found her shortly after, her dazed expression had them both worried, but then a genuine smile broke out on her face as she proposed they go have a light dinner before heading home. Rhyme and Beat looked at each other, communicating through their eyes that they had no idea what had happened, but were glad Shiki’s original spark had finally showed up all the same.

That had been two years ago, and everyday of those two years Shiki spent pretending to talk to someone on the phone instead of an apparition. Everyday for two years of updating his shadow on her daily life routine and not being able to ask him how his day went. This arrangement wasn’t perfect, but just knowing that he was alive, even if they were on separate planes, meant that there was hope she would see him again. Even as the weeks went to months, and months went to years, everyday, he would faithfully show up, and they would hold hands just to exist together behind the symbol of loyalty and patience.

“Tomorrow’s my big collaboration presentation to the executives of Jupiter. Eri and Rhyme are going to be there. We could honestly all use the distraction after what happened with Beat. Please look out for him in the UG? Times like this I really wonder what’s going on with the game now and how many people I have to lose to it before it’s satisfied…”

About two weeks ago, Beat magically disappeared. Shiki was going to his classroom to invite him to lunch with her and Eri when she saw a student in his class hand Beat a pin of some sort. They were trending for a while now, but they reminded Shiki too much of the game to want one for herself. Trauma, bad luck, she wasn’t really sure, but she wanted no part in it.

When the student handed it to Beat though, he vanished into thin air. She dropped her bento and unceremoniously ran into the classroom. Shiki demanded what just happened, when Beat’s classmate just looked at her, his eyes dilated for a second, returned back to normal, and looked surprised. She again pressed on for an answer, to which the student had no idea who or what she was talking about.

It was almost as if Beat’s entire existence was … erased. When she realized that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she ran to the first year classrooms and shouted for Rhyme. Shiki couldn’t imagine why this was happening again. She finally was able to talk to Neku again and now her pseudo brother, Beat, was missing.

Despite the inner turmoil she was feeling, Shiki had enough sense that day to ask Neku if he’d seen or heard from Beat. It was difficult to communicate when the only responses she got were taps on her hand but she managed to find out that Beat was indeed in the UG, even if Neku hadn’t seen him personally yet. Rhyme had a look in her eyes, almost as if she was looking beyond the plane of the RG and was preparing her next move. Rhyme said not to worry, she was going to track down her brother down one way or another.

For the past two weeks, Shiki had a few depressive relapses. Even though she had her coping mechanisms, her rock was gone. Rhyme was working on her military grade computer system to find Beat in the UG, and Eri helped keep her distracted with work. But it wasn’t the same. It helped that Neku was there for her everyday though, like today.

“Well that's all I have for now. Please keep on eye out for the skaterbrain, and wish me luck on my presentation,” she felt a tap on the back of her hand, “till tomorrow.”

As predicted, Shiki was a ball of nerves during her presentation, but she warmed up at least a quarter way through. It helped that she knew most of the execs from her internship days at Jupiter, and were impressed with her work. The collaboration looked promising for the coming days. Eri and Rhyme, both of her founding Gatto Nero board members, ushered her to leave for her date while they settled some details, promising to meet up with her afterward. She felt like she was on top of the world after that meeting, and was bouncing happily to the coffee shop to grab her customary celebratory drink before heading to Hachiko.

What she saw standing behind the statue made her drop her drink and had her flying across the scramble. She barreled into the boy, causing his headphones to fall into his hood. He took a step back to steady them both before bringing his arms around her.

“Hey Shik’s, did ya miss me tha much?” the blond boy flashed a mischievous grin.

“You idiot! I’m so mad at you! I’m going to sew your feet to the ground if you ever do that again!” Shiki screamed at him, throwing fists into his lean chest to demonstrate how mad she really wasn’t.

“Gah girl, when did ya get so strong?” Beat shrieked, trying to hug her again to stop her from hitting him.

“I missed ya too, now stop hittin’ me yo!” She pouted as she squeezed him tight. She had gotten so used to his hugs, she really missed them.

“I got a surprise fo ya.” He pulled away from her so she could see who was behind him.

She stopped breathing. It was like her lungs and heart decided to shut down at the same time, leaving her body to scramble on how to save the rest of her. Her hands tingled from the lack of oxygen as she stared at his face, the one that had matured, but never really changed after three years. He sported his boyish smile, not hidden behind a collar, the ones she admittedly had forgotten about but made her stomach flutter all the same.

“Hey Stalker.”

She could tell that he was nervous, the same nervous energy he had when they started dating years ago. Shiki had dreamed about what their reunion would be like, what she would do when it happened, what she imagined he would say. It wasn’t that, and she wanted to punch him for it if she could just MOVE.

But she felt paralyzed, and he was getting even more nervous from the silent treatment. There were a couple of people she didn’t recognize around them, but all she saw was Neku.

Growing impatient, Beat slapped Neku on the back so hard he fell forward, catching his balance before he could fall into Shiki. When he was close enough she reached out and grabbed his hand, with all the familiarity she had gotten used to for two years. Then he tenderly touched her face, wiping away her tears.

“I’m home.” He said gently.

She managed to mutter, “welcome home,” before he sealed his promise with a kiss she had been waiting too long to return.

OMAKE

“Phones get a room bro! We got kids ‘ere!”

“Yeah Neku-san get some!”

“We aren’t that much younger than you”

“I believe that I am older than all of you. And with that I bid you all farewell as I am in jeopardy of major spoilers. I must get the new EleStra DLC immediately!”

“Boss, wait, we got to celebrate our victory, come back!”

Notes: Full disclaimer, I haven’t finished TWEWY NEO yet, I’m starting the third week now. I’ve spoiled myself, so I sort of know what happens, but a lot of what I do know is out of context. So take this story as you will, it might not make a whole lot of sense, and might be completely off, but I’m excited that when I do finish the game, how my headcannons will have matched up! Or don’t!

That also being said, I starved myself from reading other fanfics on the Neshiki reunion because I didn’t want it to unintentionally change my headcannon and I also wanted to write without feeling like I was copying someone else’s ideas. If my story is similar to someone else’s, it’s purely because great minds think alike. An example of convergent evolution if you will. (I will be devouring those fics very soon though).

Notes regarding the story-wise: I like found family tropes, and I wanted to make it clear that Beat and Shiki’s relationship are purely brother/sister related if I haven’t already. If you have other shipping goggles on, have at it in this judgement free zone. This story was inspired by this idea I had of Shiki sitting behind Hachiko holding hands (I love hand holding. I wrote two other fanfics about that) with Neku, who is transparent being in the UG, just smiling at her while she talks about her day even though she can’t see him. The miracles of love and friendship traverse all planes right?

Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for listening to my Ted Talk and I hope you enjoyed this Neshiki food I’ve haphazardly prepared in like 7 hours.

#The world ends with you #twewy #twewy neo #neshiki #the world end with you neo #neo the world ends with you #neo twewy #shiki misaki #neku sakuraba #rhyme bito #daisukenojo bito #my post #mypost #myfanfiction #my fanfiction #myfanfic #my fanfic

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ikingsley · 3 years

Text

Ina x MC: A Small Detour

This is the second fic in my series loosely based on Queen B chapters. This one is based on chapter 2. The first one of my series is here: The Dance.

Summary: Luna finds Ina in an interesting and unexpected place.

Warnings: Fluff!

Tag: @samanthadalton

Author’s Notes: Happy Tuesday! Not super happy with the ending, but hope you enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luna walked briskly down the street towards the grocery store. She had failed to meet one Belvoire student who could actually cook for themselves. And the exception did not lie with Zoey. Luckily, the two had made a deal as soon as Luna had opened the fridge for the first time, where she found thirty mini bottles of Prosecco and not one food item. As long as Zoey kept the Prosecco coming, Luna would make dinner on the days they didn’t order food. And thus, Luna adventured to the grocery store in search of ingredients for a ‘gourmet’ dinner.

Luna found it extremely difficult to not think of Ina, or rather, Professor Kingsley. The Ina she had met at the bar, the Ina who she danced with until the early hours of the morning, the Ina she had passionately kissed at the diner had been swept away by a stoic, reticent and stuffy Professor Kingsley. Was it even possible to go from 100 to 0 real quick? If so, that’s how their relationship had plummeted, Luna reflected silently.

She could see the grocery store’s bright sign illuminating from a block away. She picked up the pace, encouraged that she had gone in the right direction. New York City was a busy place, and it was way too easy to get lost, especially for newcomers like herself. As she went down the sidewalk, she looked at each store along the block as a way to familiarize herself. She looked up and found a neon sign spelling The Retro Arcade.

Arcades are for nerds! Luna thought and chuckled.

Her laughter was cut short by a loud shriek followed by an even louder thud. Luna’s head swiveled vigorously as she looked for the source of the noise. It had come from inside the arcade. As she turned to look for the child who had made such a racket, instead, she found herself standing face-to-face with none other than Ina Kingsley.

Ina’s face flushed in embarrassment. For one, Luna had caught her in an arcade. But even more embarrassing was how Ina stood against the Donkey Kong machine clutching her toe. The same toe that she had kicked against the machine in frustration that her little Mario figure had been killed by Donkey Kong’s barrels.

Ina watched and sighed as Luna made her way into the arcade. As if this situation could get any more embarrassing, she thought.

“Why hello there, Professor,” Luna said with the slightest smirk on her face. Ina could only sigh once more. “Yes. Hello Luna. I guess you’ve caught me,” Ina said dejectedly. “Caught you from what exactly?” Luna asked. “My guilty pleasure and stress buster, I suppose. I guess you wouldn’t expect your professor to be playing arcade games on a Saturday afternoon,” Ina said. Luna laughed aloud. “Well...no. But there’s nothing wrong with arcades. Do you come often?” Luna asked. Ina’s face lit up at the approval of arcade games. “Almost weekly if I’m not too busy.” Ina responded through a smile. And all Luna could think was, dAmN what a NERD!

But she held herself together. At least for now.

Ina noticed Luna’s pensive, yet amused gaze on the arcade game. And just like that, Ina read her like a book. “...you’ve never played Donkey Kong before,” Ina realized. Luna could only laugh at her professor’s high intuition and perceptiveness. “Honestly, I’ve never even heard of it,” Luna admitted. Ina’s jaw dropped out of bewilderment as she turned to fully face Luna. “What! How have you not heard of Donkey Kong! It’s just about the most iconic arcade game ever! It’s Nintendo’s-” Ina said exasperated, but she was cut off promptly. “Professor, I didn’t ask for a lecture on Donkey Kong! Plus, I’ve played that yellow dude with the ghosts game!” Ina looked at Luna stunned. “Ummm....Pac-Man!!” Luna exclaimed. Ina hummed in disapproval. “Come on. That’s so basic. Donkey Kong - it’s pure skill. Come here. Let me show you.”

Luna was not one to turn down Ina’s request. She saw that the Ina she was fascinated by was not only alive at night, but maybe even on weekends too. Any other time, she was stuck with the upright Professor Kingsley.

Ina played the first round, showing Luna the basics: the controls, the premise, the things to watch for. Once Ina felt that Luna understood how to play, she let Mario get killed by Donkey Kong and stepped aside to make room for Luna.

The game began slowly and Luna successfully jumped over many barrels. But as the pace picked up, Luna suddenly felt overwhelmed. There were way too many things happening at once.

“Ina, help me!“ she yelped. Luna galloped away from the game. Simply put, it was fun until it wasn’t. Ina then came in to help Luna out. She kept in a laugh; to her, the game was still in its easy stages.

Ina stared at the screen, enraptured by the game as she had actually accumulated a relatively high score after taking over for Luna.

But it soon came crashing down. And again, like clockwork, Ina let out a howl. This time however, she learned her lesson. That machine was in fact stronger and sturdier than her foot. And instead, she kicked out to the side. Except this time, Luna was standing there.

“OWW!!!”

“Oh crap.”

It was a bittersweet disaster in slow motion. Luna was falling to the ground in pain, and at the last second, Ina swooped her from near collapse and held her in her arms. The pair stared at each other for only a couple of seconds, but to them both, it felt almost like a lifetime. Luna got lost in Ina’s eyes; they were so profound and full of affection. Finally, Ina cleared her throat. Luna sat up straight as Ina let her out of her arms.

“Are you okay?” Ina asked. She felt really bad for kicking Luna. Even if it wasn’t exactly a hard kick, she’d still hurt her. To Ina’s surprise, Luna was laughing on the side.

“Why are you laughing? I just kicked you!” Ina smiled. “The whole situation! You know, you’re such a ner- never mind,” Luna retracted. “I’m such a what!” Ina demanded. “When I passed by the arcade, all I could think was...arcade goers are nerds!” Luna laughed again.

Ina was slightly annoyed by her statement, and grumbled slightly. Then a small smile played at her lips. “If arcade goers are nerds, then why are you still in here,” Ina retorted. Luna pouted a little. “I guess...maybe, possibly, I might be a nerd,” Luna admitted. “I know,” Ina smirked. “Stop smirking like that! You’re such a nerd too!” Luna proclaimed. Ina sighed, but she knew it was true.

Ina was the first to get up. She reached out to Luna and helped her up. Luna scanned the arcade to see if there was anything she wanted to play. Then she saw it. In the corner, there was a small photo booth.

“Ina! Come on,“ Luna pleaded. Ina had no idea where she was being led to, but she took Luna’s hand. At first she was disappointed that it was a photo booth and not an arcade game, but she then realized how much fun photo booths actually were. All the different effects, all the crazy backgrounds, all the face filters... Ina smiled a little and proceeded to head inside the booth with Luna.

“Okay, here’s how we’re gonna do it,“ Luna stated. “First one is serious. Second one we’re trying one of those filters. Third one is funny. Fourth one...let’s just play it by ear.“

The first picture was like a mugshot of two people. Ina laughed at its hilarity as she searched for a filter to put. She found one with dog ears and a snout and thought it was appropriate. The second picture came out how middle schoolers would take pictures with their friends using Snapchat filters.

At this point, Ina was running out of ideas for pictures. At times, she was far from a creative soul. And for the third picture, she went with the classic bunny ears behind Luna’s head. Luna doubled over, laughing. She could barely make out the words “Really Ina? Bunny ears?” through her laughter.

Finally, her laughter ceased, much to Ina’s relief. And neither had an idea what to do for the final picture. 3...2...

In a panic, Luna put her head on Ina’s shoulders. For a moment, Ina tensed up. But then she leaned into Luna’s touch and put an arm around her. This was by far the best picture. Both women had big smiles on their faces as they cuddled next to each other.

Even after the photo was taken, the two lingered on each other. If it weren’t for the startling sound of the machine printing out the four photos, who knows how long the two could’ve stayed in that position. Finally, they pulled away from each other as Ina reached for the two sets of copies of the photos. She handed one to Luna, and both women smiled as they looked upon the reel.

“Can I admit something?” Ina asked. “Of course,“ Luna replied. “Remember when you saw me through the window?” Ina recalled. “Well, how could I forget, you were so mad you lost.” “I admit, I am very competitive. But I only lost because well, I was distracted,” Ina smiled sheepishly. “How so?” Luna inquired.

“I saw from the corner of my eye a pretty lady. I was distracted. By you.”

#queen b #choices #ina x mc #ina kingsley #luna garcia

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

falling through

prompt: abandoned

whumpee: kurt wallander

fandom: young wallander

hi! a brief bit of bg for this fic - it’s set after the show, in a timeline where kurt and reza are now partners in major crimes and rask is their boss. idk if this would fit with any kind of canon but also idc. my rules :) anyway i hope u like this!!!

It’s not their best idea by any means, but sometimes, to break open a case, you have to take a risk. You have to do something questionable and a little stupid, and you have to do it without the permission or even the knowledge of your boss. This usually works in the movies, at any rate.

This isn’t a movie, Kurt thinks, as Reza parks the car in front of a long-abandoned, derelict, half-rotted house that Rask definitely hadn’t given them the go-ahead to investigate. This is just a bad idea. But they’re already here, and Reza’s already out of the car, and there is the possibility that they’re going to find something here, at the childhood home of their currently-on-the-run murderer, so he sighs and exits the car, jogging after Reza to catch up.

What’s left of the front door swings open the second Reza touches it, and he and Kurt share a look before stepping over the threshold. Inside, the smell of decay is overwhelming. There are moth-eaten skeletons of furniture and the occasional spray-painted symbol on the peeling, stained wallpaper and the occasional squeaking of a rat. “Lovely place,” Reza mutters, and Kurt laughs.

Towards the back of the house is a staircase, which is missing approximately half of its steps. It looks less than safe, but upstairs is where the bedrooms (and the most likely sources of evidence) are, so they ascend, one at a time, in slow, halting steps.

They make it upstairs without incident and end up in a hallway that extends in two directions. Silently, they agree to each take one. Reza goes straight ahead, and Kurt goes to the right.

He pulls his flashlight out as he walks along, flicking it on and passing it in sweeping arcs over his surroundings. A hole in the wall here, a dead bug or three there, a bathroom with broken porcelain and a window missing its pane, and a bedroom that clearly had once belonged to a young girl and not their murderer. He’s about to turn around and see if Reza’s had any better luck when he hears a clatter from the end of the hallway.

He takes a step forward in the direction of the clatter, and there’s a rather ominous creaking sound beneath his feet. He looks down just in time to watch the floor give out from under him, and then all of a sudden he’s lying on his back on the first floor, the breath knocked right out of him, dazed and stunned and surrounded by rubble.

For a few seconds he simply lies there with absolutely no idea what’s just happened, and then he hears a voice shout his name from somewhere above him. He opens eyes that he hadn’t realized were closed and finds himself staring upwards at a giant hole in the ceiling, and then he remembers.

He’s just fallen through the floor. Or the ceiling, depending on how you look at it. The voice calls again, echoing around inside his head, and he recognizes it as Reza. He hears footsteps above him and tries to shout a warning that comes out as little more than a whisper. Fortunately, the footsteps stop moving, and he hears them retreat, and then come thumping down the stairs, and he listens to them approach, and then Reza is standing over him and asking him something that he can’t understand.

Now that his body has gotten over its initial shock, it hurts. What feels like every single part of his body below his neck is aching and sore. His head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. He can feel stinging little cuts and scrapes all over his exposed skin and his right ankle throbs in time with his heartbeat and even his lungs ache from having had the air knocked out of them on impact.

“Kurt!” Reza’s voice sounds different this time, serious and worried, and Kurt finally manages to think a coherent thought. That doesn’t sound good. He forces himself to speak.

“Hi,” is the only thing he can think of to say, but it must be good enough for Reza, who at some point has dropped to his knees beside Kurt’s body. He smiles down at Kurt, and Kurt tries to smile back but feels himself failing. It hurts…

“I know,” Reza says, placing a very gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt blinks at him in surprise, not having realized that he’d spoken aloud. He lets his eyes drift closed for a second to try and better take stock of his body and his injuries, but Reza shakes his shoulder and tells him to stay awake.

“‘M not sleeping,” Kurt manages to say. “Tryin’ to see what hurts.”

“Okay,” Reza replies, “but you try and go drifting off and I’ll kick your ass.”

“Got it,” Kurt whispers back, and then shuts his eyes again and focuses, starting from the top. His head hurts, but not badly enough to be worrying. There’s a rather large cut above his right eyebrow that’s slowly dripping hot, sticky blood down his face, and a few smaller scrapes across the rest of his face and down his neck. His chest and back still ache from the force of impact, but if he concentrates he can move his fingers and toes, so his spine is unharmed. His right sleeve is torn up, and he can feel little scratches all up and down the arm. The same is true for the right leg of his pants. He supposes that’s the part of him that went through the floor first. His right ankle is still aching, and he recognizes the pain as a sprain - irritating and painful, but ultimately harmless. He’s essentially fine. He just aches.

That survey complete, Kurt opens his eyes again and finds Reza’s face. “‘M fine,” he reports, though he doubts Reza will be very convinced.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Banged up, is all. Nothing serious.”

“Good,” Reza says. “Because there’s no service out here.”

“Oh,” Kurt replies, suddenly very glad indeed that none of his injuries are critical, ambulance-worthy ones.

“Yeah,” Reza says. “That means we’ve gotta get you out of here on our own. You think you can walk?”

“Dunno.” He’s willing to try, though. Kurt presses his palms down firmly into the pile of rubble, which shifts and makes unpleasant noises around him. He pushes his feet into it at the same time, and manages to scramble up onto his feet after several seconds of intense pain. He wavers and very nearly falls right back down, but Reza grabs his shoulders and holds him up. Everything is spinning and his legs are shaking and his right ankle isn’t at all enjoying having weight put on it. Kurt bites back a cry of pain and tries to take a step, because for this to stop, he has to get out of here, but his legs won’t let him move and he feels his eyes well up with frustrated, pained tears, and he tries again to make his legs move but it hurts too much and he can’t, and then…

Then he’s moving? But he’s not walking. His vision is still a bit fuzzy and his body is aching too much to feel anything touching it, and it takes him several seconds to realize that he’s being carried, slightly awkwardly but very gently. He doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed about this situation, as he normally would be - honestly, he’s just grateful that he doesn’t have to move.

He watches as his surroundings (which have become clear again, now that he’s not trying to stand up on legs that really don’t want him to be doing that) change, from the interior of the abandoned house to the outside, and then to the backseat of the car. Reza sets him down on the edge of the seat, positioned so that he’s facing out the door.

“There’s a first aid kit in here somewhere, hold on,” Reza says, and walks around to the back of the car. It’s not really like Kurt has any choice in this matter, so he stays put.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, when Reza reappears with a large plastic box in his hands.

“You’re pretty cut up,” Reza replies, setting the box down on the ground and popping it open. He rifles through it and grabs several different things before standing back up and facing Kurt, sliding medical gloves onto his hands. “I don’t want anything getting infected, and I’m sure you would appreciate not having blood all over your face.”

Kurt raises a shaking hand to touch the side of his face. His fingers come away wet and shiny with blood, and he remembers the cut on his forehead. “That would be good,” he agrees, and then sits silently and waits for Reza to get to work.

Reza begins with an item not from the first aid kit at all - a warm, unopened bottle of water from the front seat of the car. He pours the water onto a cotton ball and begins carefully cleaning Kurt’s face. Kurt flinches backwards out of instinct when the water first hits his face, but it doesn’t actually hurt, and after a while it actually feels kind of nice. Reza continues the process on Kurt’s neck, then sets down his cotton ball and picks up a pair of scissors. Kurt eyes them warily, trying to think of what exactly they might be for.

“Sorry about this,” Reza says, and Kurt doesn’t have time to panic about what that might mean before Reza is cutting away the right sleeve of his shirt near the shoulder, and the right leg of his pants slightly above the knee.

“So I can see what I’m working with without your torn-up clothes in the way,” Reza explains, after he’s finished mutilating Kurt’s clothes. Kurt just nods, glad that he hadn’t been particularly attached to this outfit.

With his work area now exposed, Reza grabs and wets another cotton ball, then repeats the cut-cleaning process on Kurt’s right arm and leg, as well as his left hand. “Can you feel anything anywhere else?” he asks, and Kurt concentrates for a second, then slowly shakes his head.

“This next part might hurt a little. Sorry in advance,” Reza says, and Kurt watches as he grabs a pair of tweezers and a small bottle of something, which Kurt identifies by the smell as rubbing alcohol once Reza opens the bottle and begins pouring it onto the tweezers.

“I can only see a couple cuts with anything in them,” Reza says, which Kurt supposes is something of a reassuring statement. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

True to his word, the process is quick, but stinging and painful. Kurt knows it’s hardly that bad in the grand scheme of things, but it still hurts, and for a few seconds afterwards he sits there and takes deep breaths and blinks his eyes rapidly and mentally yells at himself to get it together.

“You ready to keep going?” Reza asks after a moment, and Kurt nods. “This part also might be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t sting or hurt that bad,” he continues.

“What is it?” Kurt thinks to ask, staring warily into the contents of the box. Reza bends down and grabs a small tube, turning the label so Kurt can see it.

“Nothing bad, just an antibiotic,” Reza assures him, and Kurt gives another nod. Reza dabs the ointment on with a gloved finger, and it does feel extremely uncomfortable on the big cut on Kurt’s forehead, but on the majority of the rest he hardly feels a thing. When Reza’s finished, he sticks a bandage to the large cut and to a few of the bigger ones on the rest of Kurt’s body, leaving the rest alone.

“Done,” he announces, finally, and returns to the box to put away his items. Kurt watches curiously as Reza continues rummaging around in the box after everything is already put away, until eventually he stands back up triumphantly and holds up a small packet of painkillers. “Thought I lost these,” he says. “You want them?”

Kurt nods, and Reza tears open the packet, shaking two small, round pills into Kurt’s left palm, which is the less cut-up of the two. He passes over the now half-empty bottle of water, and Kurt swallows the pills and then drinks the remaining water.

“How’re you feeling?” Reza asks, when he’s finished. Kurt attempts a shrug and winces in pain.

“Okay,” he says, which is not really true. He does feel better than he had when he was lying on the floor, and certainly much better than he had when he was trying to stand.

“Sure you’re okay,” Reza says. “Not like you just fell through a floor or anything.”

“Better, then,” Kurt amends, and Reza nods. “Good. Then let’s go.”

That sounds very agreeable to Kurt, so he turns - very slowly and carefully - until his body is all the way in the car. He tries to buckle his seatbelt but gives up very quickly, and Reza does it for him, then shuts his door and opens the driver’s door. He starts the engine, and Kurt watches out the window as the old, abandoned house disappears. As they rejoin the bustling roads of Malmö, a very worrying thought crosses Kurt’s mind for the first time.

“How are we gonna explain this to Rask?”

thanks for reading!!!! i rlly had a fun time writing this and i hope u liked reading it!

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump4 #abandoned #young wallander #kurt wallander #my writing #i say things #fall #cut #field medicine #cared for

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desert-dyke · 3 years

Text

Pollen

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Fallout New Vegas Relationships:

Craig Boone/Arcade Gannon

Craig Boone & Female Courier

Characters:

Arcade Gannon

Craig Boone

Female Courier

Additional Tags:

Sex Pollen

Anal Sex

Frotting

Blow Jobs

an assortment of fun sexual favors

Strangers to Lovers

bottom boone

Smut

lil fluff at the end

Arcade and Boone are sent to survey Vault 22 only to discover some plant life there has some interesting side effects...

Arcade’s eyes wandered across various equipment in the lab. Not as nice as what he had to work with while with the Followers, but a lot better than other factions could brag. Sloan was talking to one of the scientists. He sort of zoned out by now. She was far from the brightest crayon in the pack and sometimes it was better not to hear her “brilliant” takes. He could tell a deal was being made. An exchange of caps promised. Yeah that always caught Sloan’s attention. “How do you feel about going to Vault 22?” Sloan asked, giving him that smile that suggested she wasn’t really asking. Arcade blinked. He promised to follow her and give her support, but he did not like where this was going. He could have sworn he heard something about someone disappearing, and research needing to be reacquired. It was the former part that unsettled him. “It’s got plants! You like that sort of thing,” Sloan appealed.

“Why can’t you go?” Arcade asked. Sloan’s sunburnt shoulders rose and fell again.

��I’ve got other business here.”

Arcade rolled his eyes. He had noticed the way her eyes seemingly glazed over when Corporal Betsy was talking to her. It was so characteristic of Sloan to ditch him to flirt with whatever pretty lady they encountered. He remembered losing her for nearly two days in Westside, only to find her holed up in the Thorn. Apparently her and Red Lucy got pretty close during that time.

“I’m not going alone,” he asserted. He could protect himself just fine, but if already someone had disappeared, Arcade did not want to add himself to the body count.

“Take Boone with you,” Sloan suggested. He couldn’t believe his initial reaction then but he actually preferred Sloan to Boone. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly towards the rest of Sloan’s friends. She definitely had interesting tastes when it came to making friends. Cass was a bit rough and rowdy. Raul was a sarcastic pushover. Lily was sweet and doting on Sloan, but he was certain she could and would snap him in half. But Boone? He was just quiet. In all honesty, Arcade didn’t know what to think of Boone. Not knowing his deal made Arcade cautious of him.

“Why Boone?” He questioned. Sloan shrugged again, but she was a terrible bluff. He could tell by the twitching corners of her mouth. She had her reasons, but she wasn’t going to tell him them.

“I’m tired of him moping around the 38,” she made the excuse. “Take him out. Show him a good time.” Her arm wrapped around Arcade’s shoulder. She was much shorter and had to pull him down to her height in order to do so. Arcade didn’t fight against it. “There’s a nuka cola quantum in it for you…”

“I could buy myself my own,” Arcade said. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his way out of Sloan’s hold. It hurt to bend like that. “Fine.”

Getting Boone to talk was like pulling teeth. On one hand, there was some peace to that. Boone was just about the only one at the Lucky 38 who didn’t try to probe Arcade for some history. He had the inkling that Boone genuinely did not care, whereas every one else only further inspired them to pry.

The silence began to wear on him after an hour of walking in it. Boone’s sun-shaded eyes darted along the desert expanding before them, on the lookout for any sign of trouble. He accepted that silence in this case meant stealth and cover from any wasteland creature who might do them harm. Yet the sound of wind whistling across an empty desert kept making Arcade look over his shoulder, thinking he heard the sound of voices.

Boone raised a clenched fist, his arm forming a right angle. Arcade crawled to a stop, unholstering his pistol. Boone had his rifle trained on an enemy hidden from Arcade’s view. He tried to squint his eyes, shading them from the scorching sun, but all he saw were dancing waves of heat.

Arcade jumped as Boone’s rifle fired. A hand accidentally touched the sniper’s back and was quickly brushed off with a grunt.

“What was it?” Arcade asked. Silence. Was he annoyed at his touch? Arcade sucked a breath in, but before he could speak, his ears rung with the sound of the rifle discharging. Boone fired twice more before standing. Arcade remained crouched for a moment longer, trying to process what happened. Boone began walking, indifferent to whether Arcade was following or not. He hustled to catch up with Boone. Finally, he saw something in the distance, coming from between the mountains. It looked overwhelmingly green.

Something crunched beneath Arcade’s tread. He looked down with disgust at the oversized insect he stepped on, it’s insides now covering his shoes. This must have been what Boone had seen and taken out long before it would even know they were there. His finger searched for the trigger of his plasma pistol, resting just in case there were any more nearby.

“Area’s clear,” Boone said. Whether that was meant to be reassuring was lost on Arcade. He checked the crudely drawn map he had been given, aligned it with surrounding landmarks. A red x marked the spot, in a small alcove of the mountain range, confirming what Arcade already knew. The green was where they needed to go.

It was even more overwhelming the closer they got. Vegetation was sparse in the mojave and what did was hardy and prickly. Not soft with fanlike waxy leaves, something he’d expect to see in the jungle, not here in the desert.

“I’m no botanist, but that doesn’t seem entirely natural,” Arcade remarked. He looked towards Boone, still silent. He lead the way, rifle in his hands. The vegetation grew denser the further they wandered into the alcove. It’s source was covered in it, so that Arcade almost didn’t recognize the entrance to vault 22. He was afraid to brush against the plants, unsure of what effects they might have. He had an antivenom on him, which could possibly work if something was poisonous, but wasn’t definite. However, if it triggered an allergic reaction, they would be plum out of luck.

Boone sauntered ahead without the same caution. Arcade hissed in a breath watching the skin of his arm touch a plant, expecting blistering welts to rise moments later. When nothing happened and Boone continued on ahead without him, Arcade relaxed only slightly and followed him into the vault.

Despite the lack of soil, the plants had no problem growing on the metal of the vault floors, walls, ceiling, literally anywhere he looked there was growth. Arcade jumped at the sudden metallic boom. Boone was no longer in the entrance with him. He heard another gunshot and deciphered Boone must’ve headed further inside. Arcade hustled, following the sound. Gunshots meant trouble. His feet flew down the stairwell, chasing noise, any sign of life. He halted, almost rushing into a figure rising from a cluster of flora. It was human shaped, but definitely not human. Arcade discharged his pistol into the back of the creature. It shrieked and burned as it crumpled to the ground. Boone turned around, realizing the creature had gotten dangerously close to him before Arcade shot it down. Arcade expected some hint of gratitude but Boone showed none.

“We’re not alone,” He said, instead. As if that much were not already obvious. The stairwell split into two opposing sides. “I’ll take that way,” Boone said, before heading down the stairs before Arcade could oppose them splitting up.

He held tight to his pistol as he ventured the other route. Boone’s gunshots echoed the metal walls. He was relieved to see they rejoined on the same floor. Boone took the liberty of surveying one of the rooms. Arcade took to the opposite, which looked to be a lab. Promising, Arcade thought.

He took out another plant-person as it rose from another cluster of flora. He wondered, with some morbidity, if these creatures were indeed once human. Maybe even the scientists working in this vault.

A light shone on a large blossom, catching Arcade’s attention. He approached with caution, pistol pointed forward in case another creature spawned from it. The blossom opened, releasing a visible cloud of spores. Instinctively, Arcade gasped. It smelled, he was embarrassed to admit, like sex. He pressed the sleeve of his lab coat to his face, trying to avoid breathing any more of it in and promptly left the room in search of Boone.

“We need to leave,” He told the sniper, when he encountered him loitering in one of the labs. “There’s spores in the air, and who knows what harm they could be if we breath them.” He thought of the corpse they found that looked like a human body entirely encased in flora. No doubt they would soon share a similar fate. Boone did not seem particularly riveted by Arcade’s words. Arcade felt his blood warm. Frustration. He knew he wasn’t exactly the type to give orders, but he wished Boone would at least listen to him. “We need gas masks and then we can try again. I’m sure Sloan would understand,” Arcade added, considering maybe Boone was afraid of disappointing Sloan.

“There’s spores in here too,” Boone stated, pointing towards a similar looking blossom.

“Yeah, exactly why we need to get out of here,” Arcade reiterated. He never realized how dull Boone was. Abandoning all caution, he reached for Boone’s hand, giving it a tug. Surprisingly, the contact earned no response from the other man.

“Are you feeling feverish?” Boone asked. Arcade paused. He had been feeling a little warmer and

his heart was pounding in his chest. He assumed it was out of ire towards the sniper. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead. It was warm. “You look flushed,” Boone commented.

“Yeah, well something really fucked up is going on in this vault, so excuse me for being a little worked up,” Arcade replied. His heart was really pounding, as if he had just ran a lap around Freeside. Sure he was upset at Boone, but even he acknowledged that it was a bit of an exaggerated response to the situation. Unless it was the pollen he inhaled causing him to have an accelerated heart rate.

“Worked up is right,” Boone commented. He scratched his buzzed head under his beret. Arcade noticed how low Boone was looking. He followed his line of vision, noticed a small tent had formed in his pants. He could add this to the list of awkward moments he had gotten a boner.

“I’m not going to let you die down here just because you want to be difficult,” Arcade redirected the conversation back to what was most urgent. He grabbed the collar of Boone’s shirt and pulled. Boone swatted his hand away, but it got him to start moving.

Arcade kept his plasma pistol close in case they encountered any more of those spore creatures on the way back out. Every cluster of flora that broke through the metal floor of the vault put Arcade a little bit more at unease. He jumped upon seeing a corpse of one Boone had sniped earlier, laying among all of the plants.

The further up they went, the warmer Arcade felt. He was coated in a fierce sweat, as if he were fighting a fever, his glasses fogged a bit from the heat radiating from his body. Arcade paused to catch his breath. Boone took note.

“Hey,” The concern in his voice was forreign to Arcade. “What’s up?” That was probably the closest Boone was going to come to saying ‘are you okay?’

“I’m not going to lie, I’m not feeling great,” Arcade confessed. He was having a difficult time placing what was wrong. He did not feel ill. Despite the high body temperature, he knew he didn’t have a fever. He just felt exceptionally wound up, like he had just did a warm up lap and was ready to do more.

“Something’s not right,” Boone said, in agreement. Arcade looked towards him. Boone was looking flushed as well. He didn’t mean to look, but it was hard to ignore the swell tugging against cargo pants.

Boone stepped closer, causing Arcade to take a step back. He couldn’t see behind Boone’s sniper shades, but he thought he was pissed, that he was going to hurt him. Instead, Boone clutched Arcade’s sleeve, pinching it tight inside his fist. “I need help, Doc.”

Arcade’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. He felt as rough as Boone looked, as if their bodies were going to give out from stress if relief didn’t come soon. “I don’t…” Arcade stuttered. “I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Bullshit,” Boone growled through clenched teeth.

Sweat loosened the pomade in Arcade’s hair, so that strands dangled in his face. He brushed them back, all the while leaning on a computer mainframe for support. He did have an idea of how to treat this condition. While it wasn’t an unpleasant idea, it also wasn’t something Arcade impulsively rushed into, like Sloan might. He had secrets to keep, secrets that didn’t belong with such intimate acts.

But he was also certain not doing so would kill them. Already the stress was taking a toll on Arcade’s body. He knew they wouldn’t make it far from the vault before one or both of them would suffer a stroke or cardiac arrest.

“Yes. Fine,” Arcade conceded. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Neither of them had any other choice, but Arcade needed consent before performing this sort of procedure.

Next thing Arcade knew, Boone’s hand was on the collar of his button down, pulling him down to his shorter height and mashing his lips against Arcade’s. His glasses clacked with Boone’s, knocking them askew on his face. Arcade removed his and rested it on the mainframe before returning his lips to Boone’s.

Boone’s breath was hot on his face. He kissed ravenously, like Boone had been wandering the Mojave for days and Arcade was the first drink of water. His hands grasped at Arcade with the same urgency, while constantly shifting place, as if Boone was still trying to figure out what felt right.

Arcade stifled the question in his mind of whether Boone had ever been with a man before. He was confident Boone hadn’t engaged in sexual activities since the loss of his wife. Being close to someone now must have been weird to him, regardless of anatomy.

He decided to offer Boone some assistance, and pulled his lab coat off before beginning to unbutton his shirt. It clung to his body, damp with sweat. Boone eyed him for a moment before doing the same with his t-shirt.

His stocky torso shined with sweat. His skin was battered with scars all at different stages of healing, but his shape was soft and inviting. Round pectoral muscles and a slight pudge of stomach cushioning ropes of muscles beneath. Arcade would be lying if he said he never found Boone attractive previously, he just didn’t think Boone would be interested. Even now, Boone hesitated. He realized Boone was waiting for his direction.

Arcade took his hands in his own and guided them towards his chest. Boone traced along his torso before eagerly coming in for another kiss. Their chests pressed together, he could feel the heat radiating off of Boone. Arcade was painfully erect and the slightest brush of cloth against his groin made him ache.

He reached between their bodies to free himself from his pants. Boone mirrored him before turning around and leaning against the mainframe. Arcade was taken aback, watching as Boone waited for him. Two pale mounds that were his now exposed ass facing in his direction. Now it was Arcade’s turn to be cautious.

Boone looked over his shoulder towards Arcade. “Please.” His voice was low, so that he almost missed it.

Arcade held his hips between his hands. He lined himself up and then pressed in. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped from him. Boone bit down on his own hand. At first he was worried it was bad for him, then he realized Boone was trying to stifle his own noise.

“Harder.”

Arcade obliged. Each thrust came easier than the one before and scratched at his itch. Finally the tension building inside of him felt right instead of something that wanted to kill him. Shamefully, Arcade did not last long, nor did Boone, as the latter climaxed shortly after him. Much to Arcade’s surprise, he was still hard as he pulled out.

“That’s...new,” He remarked. Boone turned around, his erection mirroring his own.

Before Arcade could question if these effects were going to be permanent, Boone was on him again. His bare cock brushed against Arcade’s. Even the slightest touch made small fires light inside of him. He watched as Boone lined them up. Boone’s hands were rough with callouses, but warm as he surrounded them both. Arcade placed his slender fingers over Boone’s, squeezing their hold tighter as together they pumped. Boone leaned his head on Arcade’s shoulder. He could hear every raspy breath that shook through Boone, mixed in with a small, whispered ‘fuck.’ Arcade gasped as Boone bit his neck. It must have done something for him, because next thing he knew, he was releasing again, this time onto Boone’s stomach. Boone’s hot fluid dripped onto his fingers.

Arcade was out of breath. Carefully, he lowered himself onto a patch of the vault’s floor that didn’t look as dirty as the rest. His chest heaves, deprived of air. His heart still thunders, but not with the same urgency as before. His member, though still firm, was beginning to wilt ever so slightly.

Boone knelt beside him. Arcade now noticed that his beret had fallen off at some point, leaving his buzzed haircut exposed. It sparkled with flecks of sweat that dripped onto his temples.

“I think...it’s working,” Arcade commented. He leaned his head against the mainframe, feeling like he was going to collapse from exhaustion.

“We’re not done yet,” Boone said. He crawled closer before he laid on his belly before Arcade, his head in the researcher’s lap. Arcade gasped as he felt Boone’s hot breath against his cock, moments before he took Arcade inside of his mouth.

At first, Arcade watched as Boone’s head bobbed, afraid to touch him, which was probably silly considering everything that had happened between them recently. He gave in and gently raked his fingers through the bristles of Boone’s cropped hair. Boone’s moan vibrated against his cock, causing Arcade’s breath to catch. This part lasted longer. Or maybe Arcade’s head was clear enough that he could finally concentrate on what was happening, rather than all his previous actions passing by in blurred emotions. Before was so desperate, like relieving pain. This...this was kind of...nice, he had to admit.

When Arcade inevitably released, he half expected Boone to pull away in disgust. Instead, he accepted the load without complaint. Arcade reached for his canteen and downed half of it, attempting to replenish all the water his body had sweated out. He wiped excess moisture from his lips as he offered the canteen to Boone. Boone accepted.

“What about you?” Arcade asked. His eyes drifted to the semi-erection that bounced between Boone’s legs as he shifted. Boone finished off the canteen before answering.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

He sealed the empty canteen and handed it back to Arcade, before shirking his cargo pants back up his thighs. “Yeah.”

Arcade watched him straighten out his clothes, pushing his shades back up his nose and readjusting his beret atop his head. He didn’t seem to be changing his mind anytime soon.

“We should leave,” he said. Arcade had to agree, before they encountered more spores. He wasn’t sure how many times his body could go through something like that before it finally quit.

His vision cleared once his glasses returned to rest before his eyes. Arcade covered himself again while Boone stood watch, holding his rifle. If they had been attacked while lost in their frenzy of desire, they would have been goners. Arcade could count himself lucky that hadn’t been a problem.

“Hey,” Arcade sought his attention, touching his arm lightly. He half expected Boone to flinch away from his touch, but he didn’t. His shaded eyes turned towards Arcade. Arcade brushed his lips against Boone’s. They tasted salty of sweat and his own cum. Boone’s lips moved gently in response, feeling for the briefest of moments the wetness of a tongue before it ended as abruptly as it began.

“We can’t tell Sloan,” Boone said, after an elongated moment of silence.

“Absolutely not,” Arcade said, in agreement, before the two headed back towards the surface.

#my fics #fallout #fallout new vegas #arcade gannon #craig boone #arcade/boone #boonecade

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ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Home. Yan!Shigaraki x Reader [COMM]

Japan brings with it a plethora of memories.

Memories ranging from the highest of your life to the lowest. Times that you can recall with a special fondness, reserved in your heart for the rest of your life. But always balanced out with numerous hurts, times that you wish you could erase from your mind. All of it remains a mixed bag within you, serving only to befuddle your true feelings further as you get off the plane.

Going through customs felt surreal, the bustle of the airport one that struck you with a sense of nostalgia. The people, the scents, the sights -- it all left you with a weary heart, but you had already expected to feel this way. Returning wasn’t an easy decision, the dividing thought leaving you with numerous restless nights.

But ultimately, your choice has been made. With suitcases in hand, you look down towards your phone. Traveling always sounds nice in theory, but jet lag and exhaustion were taking you hostage. Still, it won’t do to get tired now; you still need to make it to your new apartment after all.

‘If I could survive that long flight in economy class, I can last through one more Uber drive.’

Blurry images of the airport scenery go by, the music in the car all but tuned out by your chaotic thoughts. It all reminds you of how you left in such a hurry in the first place, in the dead of night. How conflicted you were then -- constantly doubting your decision and wondering if you should just turn back.

But turning back to Shigaraki at the time didn’t feel like a viable option.

You don’t think of it as running away from your problems. Even if that’s what it may sound like, you tried all you reasonably could do. From countless heart to heart discussions, to tearful phone calls. All of it fell on deaf ears, or worse, served to irritate him. Neither of you would back down from your given positions, despite the care you shared for one another. The care that led you to overlook your own morals for a time being.

Shigaraki was always someone who was firmly planted in his ways, and didn’t care for having his morals challenged. Though he was considerably more tolerable towards your verbal opposition than anyone else would even have the opportunity to attempt, it didn’t mean he’d change his mind in the end.

So you left. It’s bizarre to believe that eight months have already passed since then, eight months of your life being vastly different than before. Even when you weren’t in Japan, you would still hear news reports of the League of Villain's activities. Every time a headline popped up of what was happening, it made your stomach drop.

His hold over you didn’t feel as less constricting as you had originally hoped it would. Even if he was no longer physically with you during those times, you could still almost imagine his presence by your side. His mannerisms, what he would say to you if he was there. The nightmare never ended, it only got worse as the days went on. Shigaraki would never stop haunting you.

Which leads to where you are now. Having left the car with a quiet thank you, staring up at your new apartment building. Getting your keys from the main office, you desire nothing more than for this to be a positive beginning in your life. If leaving Japan didn’t help you feel any better, it only made sense for you to come back. There’s no place like home, after all.

But you’ll still be living your life on the down low. It’s unnerving, since the League never stayed in one area for long. If you knew where they were hiding now, you would gladly put as much distance between yourself and them as possible. But given the nature of Shigaraki’s vision, they were always on the move.

Turning your keys until you hear a click, your last burst of energy goes into opening the door. Inside showcased an apartment devoid of furniture, but still your new home nonetheless. With a deep sigh, you tug your heavy luggage through the door frame.

‘I’ll at least need to unpack some things before I can sleep…’

Briskly walking to the sink, you splash cold water onto your face in a desperate attempt to stay awake. Your new mattress won’t be delivered until tomorrow, so sleeping on the floor is all you can do for the time being. Shaking your head at the thought, you sluggishly get to work.

Grabbing your favorite blanket and pillow, you lazily throw it where your bed will soon take its place. Everything else can wait for tomorrow, it’s not like you’ll have any company to entertain. With the sun already having set thirty minutes ago, you close your blinds and gratefully lay down.

Even if it’s on the floor, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders to finally relax.

It doesn’t take long for sleep to find you, all of your pent up emotions and nonstop thinking having sapped all your energy. All you can hope for, as your heavy eyelids flutter shut, is that tomorrow will be the fresh start that you have longed for.

---

“Mnh…”

Rubbing your eyes, you almost panic for a moment at your new surroundings. Before recalling all that had occurred, and that this place is your home now.

‘What time is it…?’

Blindly groping around your pillow for your phone, your eyes squint in pain at the bright screen. Displaying that it’s only 11:25 PM, and that you only had been asleep for a few hours. The effects of sleeping on the floor make themselves known, your back aching at the lack of proper support.

Grimacing at the throbbing discomfort, you put your phone down before sitting up with a yawn. With intention to get up and soothe your dry throat with a drink, you never get the chance before a voice pierces through the dark.

“All that running sure must’ve been exhausting.”

Jumping at the sound of a lower voice in your pitch black room, your eyes rapidly dart around for the possible source. Breathing growing unsteady, you feel your lips tremble at the thought of a stranger in your apartment. Would your quirk be useful enough in fending them off?

Hugging your knees against your chest in a reflexive response, your mind scrambles to come up with a plan.

Reaching to grab your phone out of desperation, you finally let out a weak response. “W-who’s there? I’ll call the police!”

“Like that’d do any good.” The voice responds in a mocking lilt. Like a sudden wave crashing over you, you’re finally able to discern through your fatigued state who this is. You feel as if you’re being dragged beneath the waves, the air all but smacked from your lungs.

‘That’s--!’

Footsteps approach you slowly, methodically. You feel frozen, incapable of even forming a coherent thought. As the person gets closer, you realize you need to run. But before you can even get the opportunity, you feel a foreboding weight around your shoulders.

And four fingers tapping against your bare skin.

“Did you forget about me, [First]?”

You know that voice all too well. The fact that even sleep managed to dull your guess of who it was is astonishing, but no longer do you feel uncertain of who it is. Goosebumps line your exposed skin, the sound of your own shaky breathing filling the otherwise silent room.

“Sh-Shigaraki…?”

“So you didn’t,” he responds with a low, humorless snicker. Tightening his grip around you, you can feel his hair tickling your face. “I’m glad I don’t have to remind you of that, at least.”

Swallowing thickly, you feel tears prickling the edge of your eyes. There are too many overwhelming things on your mind, too many questions without answers and silent pleads. It all feels too suffocating, air becoming a luxury that you miss. In the moment, all you can will yourself to do is choke out your next words.

“How,” you exhale shakily, mind screaming your tongue drier than sandpaper. “How did you find me?”

For a brief moment, you feel his coarse fingers cease their previous drumming movements. In a motion that could only be described as flinching, Shigaraki quickly recovers himself while answering your question with a malicious bite.

“After all this time, that’s what you want to say to me?” Shigaraki growls out towards you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut. You desperately wish that none of this is real, that the cruel events unfolding before your very eyes are all but a dream.

From all the time that you had spent with Shigaraki, you had grown accustomed to his mannerisms. Being able to pick up on every little nuance of his words, to what every twitch of his muscles meant. But now, you feel incapable of doing just that. Is it bitterness hidden in his words? Disappointment, frustration? Something tells you that it’s all of that, and more.

“Whatever. I’ll humor you with the answer. Imagine my surprise, I get a phone call from Toga. I was barely able to understand her at first, her voice was so frantic and excited,” Shigaraki pauses for a moment, recalling the prior events. “Eventually, she manages to explain that ‘big sis [First]’ is back. And well… here we are.”

At first you didn’t pick up on it, but there’s a slight tremble in Shigaraki’s voice. You realize now how difficult he’s trying to hold himself together, feeling his body shaking against your own. Each of his words come out more forced than the last, almost as if a lump was forming in his throat.

Unable to conjure up a response fast enough, you hear Shigaraki’s labored breathing growing more unsteady.

“Well? Say something! Don’t just sit there.”

All false impressions of control start to slip through his fingers, true emotions no longer being able to hide. Cracks beneath the surface reveal to you just how much pain he is in, the mere thought enough to tug on your own battered heartstrings even more. You open your mouth, wondering if there’s anything you can say to diffuse the situation.

He clings to you tighter.

“Shigaraki… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you sniffle, small sobs unable to be suppressed any longer. His muscles tense at the sound of you crying, a battle within ensuing. “I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t take the violence, t-the constant living in fear! I don’t know, I don’t know…”

Much to your surprise, a rough hand wipes away the tears leaving your dampened eyes. Jaw agape, you feel deft fingers working hard to dry your skin. You remember long ago how he told you once that he hated seeing you cry, that it made him unsure of what to do.

Hiccuping, you feel your lip tremble at your next question. “Are you going to kill me too now?”

“I don’t know, probably not. Just… just stop crying already.”

Shaking your head, you know the waterworks won’t be stopping anytime soon. Now it was your turn to take Shigaraki by surprise, stuffing your head against his chest to muffle your own cries. He subconsciously moves his fingers to make sure they don’t all touch you at once, and you feel how tense he becomes at your unexpected touch.

Eventually, he places a tentative few digits against your back, awkwardly attempting to soothe you. It all brings you to the pinnacle of your emotions, unable to hold back your full fledged sobs any longer. Gripping onto the fabric of his hoodie, you take in his familiar scent. Shigaraki begins gnawing on his lip, having not expected his confrontation to go like this.

He eventually returns your serpent tight hug, placing his head into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t think you’re getting off easy,” Shigaraki finally grumbles against your skin, his own emotions too unsteady to even understand. “I’m not ever letting you out of my sight again.”

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura imagine #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagine #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #yandere my hero academia #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #bnha #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #yandere bnha #my stuff #commissions

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wakaoujisenhime · 4 years

Text

Controlled shocks - Kaminari x reader

Synopsis: Frustrated about the missing spice in your life you decide to take a shower. The moment you begin taking care of the built-up stress, your boyfriend knocks on the bathroom door. Separated by nothing but a curtain, you decide to continue pleasuring yourself, hoping that Kaminari wouldn’t notice, but ...

tags/warnings: Kaminari x reader ✅ smut (18+) ✅ quirkplay ✅ squirting ✅

crossed off square: Shower sex ✅

A/N: Third BINGO piece for the bookclub!! and two more are on their way, but pss NOW, the moment I saw the square with shower sex, I instantly thought of Kaminari, so I hope you enjoy this little smut scenario I came up with! A BIG thanks and a tight bear hug for my good friend @shoutogepi who took care of the beta-reading! Please enjoy! (˶◡‿◡)

image/art source: Twitter (art by iarim)

[ @fanfic-me-up ; @kingtamakimurder ]

→ BINGO Event masterlist

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

Lukewarm water ran down your body as you closed your eyes, savoring the satisfying feeling of your tense muscles finally relaxing. You had just come back home from work, and since your boyfriend wasn’t home, you decided to take a shower and prepare dinner afterward.

A small sigh escaped your mouth at the thought of him.

You and he had become a couple around the time you guys became second years at UA. Since then everything went perfectly fine, you had no real obligations and could savor a carefree life...you were students after all, but the moment you graduated everything changed. The number of responsibilities you had to shoulder for yourself, your partner, and society was enough to overwhelm you both. Still, luckily the two of you had built up such a strong bond that you decided to deal with these problems together.

But now that the more significant difficulties were out of the way, some minor ones began appearing. One of them was that you both hadn’t had sex for approximately three weeks, and it was slowly but surely getting to you. Of course, none of you were to blame since your jobs were the actual cause of this ‘problem,’ but that was to be expected; nevertheless, there was something else that vexed you, namely Kaminari’s obliviousness to your sexual frustration.

Back in your UA days, you constantly bickered with Bakugou, who wouldn’t stop calling your boyfriend ‘dunce face’, but now you wished you hadn’t. You would’ve understood it if you weren’t giving him any signals, but greeting him with babydoll lingerie when he came back from work or with nothing on but an apron while you were preparing breakfast was screaming ‘I’m horny, please fuck me,’...unfortunately, your screams didn’t reach their target.

Frustrated, you bit your lower lip and leaned your forehead on the cold tiles of the bathroom walls.

“Denki, you idiot...” you whispered as you closed your eyes.

You let your hands run from your neck down to your chest, belly, and hips. The moment they’d reached your aching core, you hoisted one of your legs up on the bathtub’s edge and slowly began tracing your wet folds with your fingers. A sharp breath escaped your mouth at the sudden jolt of pleasure you got from that small and insignificant gesture, which frustrated you even more.

How can I be that satisfied with just that?

Your frustration slowly transformed into anger, and what’s the best way to vent then let it all out on yourself. The fingers that were caressing you ever so gently before were now angrily moving in and out of your tight hole which had tightened up quite a bit, thanks to a certain dunce, and the water wasn’t the ideal lubricant you were looking for, so your movements hurt quite a bit.

“Ugh...fuck.”

Just as you were about to go faster, a sudden knock on the bathroom door startled you, causing you to stop mid-movement.

“Honey, can I come in?”

“Y-Yeah, sure...”

You have never been happier to have bought that shower curtain because if that piece of cloth hadn’t been there, he would’ve witnessed just how horny you looked and that only from two of your fingers.

“I’m back, sweetie...sorry if I’m late!”

Just hearing his cheerful voice was enough to set your body aflame once again; thus, you slowly continued moving and scissoring your fingers, hoping that this would be enough to get you used to it once more, meanwhile your boyfriend had resumed his talk.

“If you haven’t eaten yet, then I’m going to head for the kitchen and prepare something for us, what do you say?”

“Uh-huh, that’s f-fine by m-me...”

Sure the curtain shielded you from his view, but it also made it harder for you to see just what your man was doing on the other side, and that was perhaps the biggest downside to it.

Indeed, Denki wasn’t the brightest bulb around, but he wasn’t as stupid as some thought, especially when there was something that concerned you.

He had noticed your stuttering speech and labored breath, but decided to continue feigning ignorance.

“Hey, you know what happened today, oh my god you aren’t going to believe it! So listen up…”

While Kaminari talked something about Kirishima and Bakugou having a new tag team attack, you slowly directed the water stream from the showerhead towards your sensitive clit that you had deliberately neglected, knowing fully well just how good it’ll feel if you suddenly overwhelmed it with pleasure.

Suddenly a particular idea crossed your mind as you glanced back at the blurry figure standing in the middle of the bathroom.

What if I open it..?

Meanwhile, your boyfriend had undressed and was standing there with crossed arms, facing the bathtub. He couldn’t help but notice that something had been off with your silhouette since the moment he came in, he had a hunch on what you might be doing, soo he decided to put you to the test. The story of his best friends and their new attack was one he had already told you about some days ago, and he knew that you weren’t one to forget such things, so the moment you had just answered with a silent ‘uh-huh’ he knew that there was something else going on. Honestly speaking, he had been pent up for quite some time, but out of consideration for you, he had held back, but today he wasn’t going to pass out on the opportunity you gave him.

Sharing the same thought both of you took hold of the curtain’s edge at the same time and yanked it to the side, revealing your disheveled appearance to one another.

With wide eyes and agape mouths, both of you looked at each other in disbelief.

“Denki-”

Without any reservation, you threw yourself at him and began hungrily kissing his lips.

The man in front of you was taken aback, but he caught you and tangled his fingers in your wet locks as he returned the kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips and began grinding your wet self against his hard shaft, that action caused him to growl silently next to your ear and in order to stop you, he grabbed both of your asscheeks and squeezed them tightly.

“Hold up, babygirl- ah...let me b-breathe at least.”

“Shut it, Denki. Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this, huh?” you hissed as you let one of your hands glide down to his abdomen and take a tight hold of his pulsating cock, pumping it lazily yet firmly. Your boyfriend’s whiny moans turned you on even more and slowly, but surely your self-control was declining the more his face contorted with nothing but sheer pleasure.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted your dick to split me open and thrust into me as if I was nothing but a mere object?”

After uttering your innermost desires to him, you bit his bobbing adam’s apple with a cocky smile, confident that you were in charge of the current situation.

Suddenly a sudden electric shock tingled your already overstimulated clit and left you breathless and confused for a mere number of seconds. While you were still processing what had just happened, the man who held you close to his body slowly entered the bathtub and pressed your back against the cold wall. He removed your arms from his neck and held them above your head instead, making sure that you had no way to neither touch yourself nor him.

“You weren’t the only one who suffered, you know?” he whispered in a low and threatening voice. It was now his turn to do what he desired, and that’s what he did.

Like what you had done before, Denki also began nibbling and biting the skin of your neck, leaving marks wherever he wanted.

When your boyfriend was satisfied, he leaned his head back and gazed at the different shades of red that adorned your neck.

“How about you (Y/N)? Can you even comprehend just how hard it was for me to hold myself back? Seeing your relaxed face and slightly parted lips every morning while you had one of your legs wrapped around mine wasn’t as easy as you might think it was.”, he spoke in a low and raspy voice, “You were lucky that you slept or I would’ve torn those pieces of fabric you call clothes from your slutty body and fucked you right then and there.”

The man forcefully gripped your chin and gave you another rough kiss; he even occasionally bit your lower lip to demonstrate further how desperate he indeed was and had been for the past few weeks.

Usually, you’d let him take you just like that, but today you were as upset as he was and maybe even more, so you made full use of the fact that you could still move your hips and rocked them back and forth once again.

The glare he shot at you was honestly enough to make you cum right then and there, but you managed to hold back.

“Now you have me right where you want me, look...I’m all defenseless and have no intention of fighting back, so take me, pound me so hard I won’t be able to walk for days- no even weeks, electrocute me if you have to, just finally do something Denki...please”

Your needy and trembling voice was all he needed to pull his hips back, align his pre-cum covered tip with your wet entrance, and thrust his entire shaft inside of you in one swift movement.

“G-God! Yes...yes!! This is wha-ah..what I was waiting for!”

Kaminari had freed your wrists and was now supporting your backside once again. His thrusts were kept short since he wanted to give your insides some time to get accustomed to his size once again, but the mix of your loud moans, tight insides, and lust-filled eyes was really pushing his buttons, and soon even he decided to drop the ‘nice boyfriend’ act and just go feral.

He pulled almost his entire length out of you and thrust all of back in, the satisfyingly loud slap of his balls against your clenching folds nearly managed to get you over the edge, but you refused to finish so early in the game. Unfortunately for you, the man in front had complete control over your current situation, and all he wanted right now was to see you cum, so with a mischievous grin, he placed his finger on your clit and activated his quirk once more.

The precise and controlled shock which he aimed directly at your sensitive bud instantly made you cum; your eyelids fluttered shut while your eyes rolled back and all that pleasure overtook you to such an extent that your thighs trembled and twitched, causing the grip you had on your man’s hips to weaken further. Of course, your boyfriend was there to hold you up, but what he wanted most right now was to look into your hazy eyes and prolong your orgasm by continuing his brutal pace, even when your insides were squeezing him so tight that he had some evident struggle with pulling out.

“Y-Yes D-Denki...just like- ah.. that!”

Even minutes after you had come down from your high, your body still felt the aftershocks of it, and the man’s continued usage of his power didn’t help you calm down at all, it was the exact opposite.

“A-Another one is...is coming-”

“Oh yeah? Then let me switch things up a bit...” he answered as he took a firm hold of your hips and pulled his cock out from you.

You whined at the loss and immediately reached for his shaft with your trembling hand, only to get it softly slapped away.

“I’ll need you to behave babygirl, or else you can wait for another three weeks, got that?” he warned you with a raised eyebrow.

Now that you had already cum once, all you desired was for him to flood your insides with his thick sperm, so if being obedient was going to help you reach that goal, you’d gladly behave.

Kaminari switched your positions and pushed your upper body forward so that you were forced to hold onto the curtain with one hand and take a firm hold of the bathtub’s edge with the other. While you were still struggling with positioning yourself comfortably, he ran his slim fingers alongside your back, letting his powers run free yet again.

“This time...I’m going to make you pass out.”

Before you could ask what he meant with that declaration, the young man had buried himself balls-deep inside of your sloppy insides and began rocking his hips back and forth. The sweet mewls that reached his ears gave him yet another great idea on how he could make up for those three weeks of missed pleasure and teach you a small lesson for getting off by yourself like you had done some minutes ago.

He slowed down and concentrated as much as possible as he activated his quirk for the last time.

“Denki, wh-aah!! G-God!! Ngh-aah…!”

Your sweet voice turned into a breathless raspy mess of syllables as you felt him sending a series of controlled shocks through his cock as well as both of his hands that were firmly holding onto your nipple and clit. Your second orgasm was approaching at a faster speed than the one from before...only this time, something else was building up as well.

“De-ahn..ki..pleaase...wha-wai-”

Forming coherent words became another challenge you were deemed to fail because your boyfriend had just reached the last spurt and seemingly needed only a few thrusts before finally reaching his long-awaited high as well.

The moment his hot thick semen began entering your womb, your vision went black, and all you could hear was how the piece of cloth you had held on was ripped from its hooks.

——

When you finally opened your eyes, you found yourself on your knees, sitting in Kaminari’s lap, who embraced you from behind and gently caressed your head.

“(Y/N), thank god you’re awake, I didn’t know what to do if you hadn’t woken up from that!” he exclaimed, visibly relieved. Your voice was so far gone though that you couldn’t muster an answer and just give him your typical questioning look, which demanded a résumé of what had transpired in the past few minutes.

“God how should I put this without embarrassing you too much...”, he began with a whisper, “..well you see...the moment I came inside of you, you came as well and uhh...you also kinda....s-squirted?”

After he said that, your face became redder than your favorite lingerie, and all you wanted was to go and crawl into a hole where nobody could find you, but the compassionate laugh of your boyfriend is what stopped these thoughts.

He whispered sweet and encouraging lines and some small apologies in between, while he gently traced the kiss marks, he had left behind earlier, with his lips.

Just as you were getting relaxed in his strong arms, a specific question of his once again caused your heart rate to quicken.

Ready for round two..?

#bnhabookclub #bnha scenarios #bnha x reader #mha x reader #kaminari x reader #denki x reader #kaminari denki x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #━𝙱𝙽𝙷𝙰 #━𝙼𝙷𝙰

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lipstickbisous · 4 years

Text

the lion and her sun. (7)

ALL WE WANTED WAS TO SEE YOU.

notes: ooofffffff i’m SO excited for this chapter yall i might be overreaction (probably am) but this is really a stepping point in the story whew.

i rEALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE U CAN GET THE HINT AT THE END TEHE.

when u realize dornish culture is more like indian culture instead of spanish culture but u just go with it.

pairing: oberyn x oc!reader, ellaria x oc!reader

summary: a trip to salt shore and one night spent on their stay, oberyn and aurane come to a relevation.

warnings: um..it’ll be a spoiler...so no...smut (thigh riding, but not much), lil make out session

word count: 5.7k

masterlist

“and what happens if he finds out?” aurane was not usually so paranoid and nervous when running around behind doran’s back. her and oberyn had done it before--in the first months of their marriage, they’d gone for walks in the middle of the night through the city even when he’d given them strict instructions to remain in the castle and gardens.

oberyn and aurane’s guards were currently carrying their packed cases onto a one large carriage drawn by several horses. the moon stood high in the night, perfectly angled so that, in the darkness with the dim lighting of oberyn’s lantern, he could see every detail on the princess. doran would hopefully still be sleeping his chambers, but the idea of him waking to his brother and sister-in-law, along with their paramour, escaping in the night was sort of terrifying to aurane.

the bustling of soldiers was quiet but acted as a white noise. “then he’ll be furious,” oberyn responded, dragging his fingers across aurane’s jaw. although they were family, and oberyn loved his brother very much, doran had the ability to punish them if he really wanted. “we’ll have to deal with it. but he won’t find out,” a kiss to her nose. “not until we’re in salt shore.” that smirk delivered a shudder down aurane’s spine but, due to the intensity of the situation, she ignored it.

ellaria poked her head out of the even larger carriage that would hold the three of them during their journey. “we must leave now,” she yelled in the distance; anyone in the castle would simply year a muffled sound. the last of the bags were loaded onto the luggage carriage and aurane sighed. “come, lion,” ellaria held her hand out. “let our prince deal with formalities.”

with a sigh and a comforting smile from her husband, aurane left oberyn’s embrace and let herself fall into the hold of her second lover. ellaria, who had bathed just before they packed for their trip, now smelled of cinnamon and baked goods. “we will all be together for the next week,” ellaria smiled, sitting aurane on top of her so that she straddled her lap. aurane’s hands mindlessly placed themselves on ellaria’s cheeks. the older woman had always lovingly rambled about aurane’s beauty and grace and how ‘a woman so young could look so mature’. but when they pressed themselves against each other like this, in such a position that it made aurane feel slightly feral, all aurane could appreciate in the moment was ellaria’s beauty. how the lines that shown over age made her look wise, how as time passed, her body had kept its neat posture and her skin didn’t loosen. how in that head of hers, ellaria held knowledge and advice that aurane couldn’t even muster.

“my two lovers,” oberyn whispered as he climbed into the carriage, a guard shutting the door behind him. the lock clicked and now, the three were in complete silence and privacy. to break the latter, oberyn held the back of aurane’s head, turned her towards him, and kissed her forehead, “we only have a week ahead of us.”

his first paramour smirked as aurane leaned into the prince’s touch, her hips still touching ellaria’s. “perhaps we can find something to occupy the time.”

a hand found itself on aurane’s thigh, but she couldn’t trace whose since her eyes had squeezed shut with a pinch to her ass. oberyn began to lift her skirt up so that it bunched at her stomach before unhooking it and throwing it to the other side of carriage. compared to the bedroom her and oberyn shared, this carriage seemed so small. a sigh emitted itself from her mouth once oberyn’s lips were latched onto the skin of her neck.

“what do you feel, lion?” he whispered, and the carriage began to move but it was nothing in the moment.

ellaria’s hands were firm on aurane’s hips as she centered aurane’s now open slit against her bare thigh. she pushed aurane forward back on her leg, and, as a reaction to the pleasurable feeling, the princess pushed her back onto oberyn’s shoulder. his fingers were sweeping over her spine, reaching lower and lower until he cupped her ass. as ellaria continued to grind aurane’s heat over her thigh, oberyn began to coo.

“all the distress you’re feeling,” he murmured, slightly deadened by his lips on her neck, now trailing to her collar bone. he sat on his knees before breaking his contact with aurane. his fingers held ellaria’s chin as he pulled her closer, pressing his lips on hers. ellaria’s movements began to quicken as aurane’s slick made it easy for her to buck her clit for pressure. in between kisses, he spoke, “you don’t deserve it.”

ellaria shook her head and broke her kiss with oberyn before placing a hand between her and aurane, gently pressing on the bead. aurane whimpered and practically became an oozing liquid in oberyn’s arms. “none of it,” ellaria spoke, tucking her head underneath aurane’s chin, flush against her chest.

with ellaria’s touch on her clit as an already overpowering feeling, oberyn added two more fingers and began to rub. “you’re always so good to us,” he whispered, sucking red marks into the skin on shoulder blade and he pushed her hair out of the way. “this pussy is always so wet, so slick, and gods,” he growled and broke his kisses on her and his fingers from her clit, and he placed his two digits in his mouth. “you always taste so sweet.”

“like heaven,” ellaria cooed.

the heat in aurane’s core felt stronger than ever as ellaria’s pace on her hips was even faster. her arms wound their way behind her as they unbuttoned oberyn’s pants and he discarded himself of the tunic he wore that night. she could feel his cock hardening in just her touch and it was enough to let herself flood over her paramour. “fuck,” she whispered, furrowing her eyebrows in frustration as she wanted nothing but her orgasm. she began to clench around nothing more than air and ellaria smiled.

“look at you,” she praised, soon feeling a hand reaching her own heat. oberyn only smirked while aurane began to stroke his length, running her thumb over the slit. “so needy, so perfect for us.”

oberyn thrusted into aurane’s hand. she would never tell him so, although because his mind knew almost everything he could probably guess it, but she loved the feeling of his cock in her hands. it was long and girthy and as it weighed down in her palm, her fingers rubbing over its head, she let her other hand cover her mouth once a scream threatened to leave. oberyn ripped her hand away, bucking into her hand again. “always so perfect for us,” he cooed directly into her ear. “don’t hide yourself, lion. cum for us.”

she turned to him as ellaria placed her lips underneath aurane’s ear. aurane’s eyes were shut, her jaw dropped open, and her senses were suddenly becoming weakened. the feeling of the silk sheets beneath her, how sticky the summer night air was, oberyn’s cock in her hold, her orgasm approaching, ellaria’s kiss becoming harsher, her husband’s gentle yet demanding curses and whispers--it was all overwhelming.

she let go.

―

traveling on road had not been as fun for aurane. she could admit that, sometimes, she would find the smell of saltwater somewhat sickening, but that didn’t mean she hated it. the paths their carriages traveled on were rough and bumpy, making it hard for the three to enjoy pleasant nights. they had stopped for camp three times during the week, and really, those had been the only nights where aurane, oberyn, and ellaria could truly enjoy themselves.

salt shore, a grand city right against the beach, lied only an hour away now. aurane sat impatiently her head resting against ellaria’s shoulder. nervous thoughts had kept her awake the night before, so currently, despite her excitement for the new city awaiting her arrival, she was beginning to fall asleep.

“my sun,” oberyn’s voice was light as he bent down to her eye level. she began to awake but her eyelids were heavy and her body felt loose. “we’re almost there. the scenery is beautiful.”

aurane hummed in response but tucked her head into ellaria’s arm. “i think she loves me more,” ellaria teased her lover and watched as he rolled his eyes and playfully shooed them.

with her eyes closed and her mind regaining its conscience, she curled into ellaria and slurred, “i love you both equally.”

“that’s what they all say, lion,” he whispers and lies himself on the bed. the blinds on their windows blocks at the harsh sun. the lower they traveled over westeros, the hotter the sun got. even oberyn began to sweat the tiniest bit. there was a reason aurane and ellaria were almost naked in their carriage.

the princess whined and squeezed her eyes before rubbing her cheeks. “gods, it’s too hot,” she complained, pushing herself off of ellaria. they both sighed in relief at the cold air touching the skin that had once connected them. their hands, the only source of a breeze, tried their best to fan themselves but to no avail. “was this is a mistake?” she joked, half delirious.

oberyn’s gaze softened as he handed a container of water to his lovers. they reached for it desperately, and if they had been animals, they would be starving tigers to the point where oberyn could see their ribs, and he would be the evil ringmaster who denied them any food--apart from the fact that as soon as he saw the desperation in their eyes, he sat himself in between them and let them share the water. “i hope not,” he laughed, and once the container was empty, it was thrown onto the ground. “i’m going to receive a lifetime of shit from my brother for this.”

“we’re going to receive a lifetime of shit for this,” aurane corrected him. it was as if she were drunk, ellaria too, but it had been ironic since they hadn’t obtained any sort of alcohol--the heat had gotten to the wine. “are we almost there?”

she was growing impatient and oberyn couldn’t blame her. he inhaled and parted his lips to speak, soon noticing that ellaria fell into a deep rest, her head gently falling against the pillows, beads of sweat trailing down her temple. the fabric of her light dress had turned so damp that aurane could now see her nipples just peeking through the material.

“soon, my sun,” he lied down next to his paramour and patted the spot of the bed next to him. aurane rested her back on the mattress and pulled the linens that were now turning sticky from sweat away from her skin. “we’re going to find as much as we can there.”

aurane turned to her side and watched as his eyes wandered down to her lips as she gently bit her bottom one. her vision was becoming hazy. “i hope so.”

when she awoke, it was because of ellaria’s gentle coos in her ear, her fingers grazing over her shoulders and winding through her hair. because of the heat, her perfume was stronger than ever, and for the first time during their trip, aurane could smell saltwater. “lion,” her voice was sweet and honey-like. “wake up, lion.” ellaria sounded more eager than usual. aurane, even in her tired state, could sense that the carriage had come to a stop.

her eyes opened and, just for a few seconds, her vision was blurry. the door to their carriage was open, letting in a slight breeze that reminded aurane of the shore.

the shore.

“we’re here, lion,” ellaria tucked a piece of hair behind aurane’s ear. during their nap, aurane’s braid had unraveled itself, so ellaria now aided the princess in sitting up. she took out the ribbon that had held the braid together and combed her fingers through aurane’s hair.

aurane rubbed her eyes and felt ellaria’s fingers on her scalp. “it’s not as hot,” she noticed. the air, while still heated and sticky, had a slightly cooler feeling to hit that felt good against her skin. “why is not as hot?”

the mindless yet sweet comments coming from the princess had ellaria chuckling. just as cersei had done all those years ago back in casterly rock, she separated aurane’s hair into three sections and began to fold them together. when she done, she tied the ribbon around the end of the braid and smiled, “look outside.”

aurane stepped foot out of the carriage and was instantly met with the seagulls squawking above them, the waves crashing against coarse sand--when compared to the softer sand of sunspear--and before her stood a great castle made from concrete and stone. below the castle was a small city, closer to the size of what aurane had been told winterfell was like. but unlike winterfell, the sun was shining gloriously on the city and it seemed to sparkle. aurane could hear footsteps drawing closer and closer to her, along with the guards unpacking their bags.

“my sun,” oberyn whispered and held her wrist in his hand. he brought it to his lips and gently kissed. “welcome to salt shore.”

during her life, even if it hadn’t been a long one so far, aurane had never traveled much. she’d moved from casterly rock to king’s landing and had even visited highgarden once, but she had spent her days in the red keep. her only friends were her siblings and her maidens--she felt embarrassed to say that she also considered her pet cat a friend. but over the past year, she’d seen more places than she had in her twenty-six years of life.

she smiled and noticed two people dressed in white linens and sturdy fabrics. they were the gargalens, and doran had informed her of their hatred for lannisters. “are we staying in the castle?” aurane asked.

oberyn nodded gravely and noticed her discontent. “they respect you more than the common people,” he whispered hoarsely and ellaria pushed herself out of the carriage. “staying in the city would be dangerous.”

―

mallery airen had been born in sandstone but was raised in salt shore. when she was a child, all she wanted to do with her life was run around the beach and own a small house near the shore. she loved the harsh storms that would always make a mess of their city, even the lightning and thunder. her parents had never sent her away to be married or pressured her into love, and they believed it was partially their fault that she fell in love with a lannister.

for years, they’d hidden the truth simply from the fact that they felt tywin lannister stole their precious daughter away from them.

once the word of mallery’s death in king’s landing had been announced, the airen’s were infuriated. they went to their royals and spread the news, angering the cities.

tywin lannister had supposedly raped their daughter and forced her to casterly rock. only they knew the truth. and once war had threatened to break, the airen’s felt shame and embarrassment. now, there was a princess, the product of what had really happened between tywin and mallery. and that princess was currently strolling through the city of salt shore, her husband on her arm, her paramour on her other.

the beliefs of dorne were set--they were separated from the rest of westeros and were therefore more liberal than the other cities. but oberyn’s own people seemed to betray them as they quietly hissed as she walked by. the gargalens had promised the safety of aurane, which also meant that there were an estimated amount of twenty guards protecting her as she walked.

“they don’t seem too violent,” ellaria whispered, trying her best to stay optimistic in the situation. as they strolled deeper into the city, the derogatory hisses from the crowd grew louder and oberyn’s protective grip grew stronger. you could see through the armor of the soldiers that each crowd member was patiently waiting with various objects in their hands. there was the normal tomato or rotting fruit, while others held things like wooden blocks, shards of glass, and balls of hardened mud--but they didn’t dare to throw the items, not with aurane under the royal’s protection.

the airen’s house was closer to the great market of salt shore, and that couldn’t have been more than two minutes away. two more and final minutes of booing, hissing, shouting, and threatening stares.

it was this moment, when aurane was so close to the truth, to her mother’s story, she realized she had no idea what to say. she had countless questions yet she couldn’t muster up any of them. her entire life had been trailing up to this second, and now, she was lost. a wave of heat swept over aurane. the sun was scorching above them because, unlike in dorne, the city of salt shore had almost no trees. with her arm wrapped around oberyn’s, she did her best in this position to try and fan herself.

a loud huff caught oberyn’s attention. “my sun?” he asked, noticing how she was sweating more than before and her lips had turned into a dull color than her normal sweet pink.

“it’s hot,” she huffed again through tightened lips. she would not show she was losing composure in front of people who wanted to witness her pain.

ellaria seemed to notice her faltering demeanor as well. “sweet girl,” she asked. of course, salt shore had it effect on ellaria as well--she spent the entire night sweating instead of sleeping--but aurane had seemed perfectly fine with the climate. “should we turn back?” ellaria and oberyn assumed it was because her mother had been of salt shore descent but now, as aurane’s stomach felt queasy and her face went bland, they shared a look of hesitation.

“no,” aurane breathed loudly, capturing the attention of even a few guards. “i’m not just giving up.” her pace quickened again and they began to walk at their initial speed.

it seemed that the next few minutes, aurane had gained control of her body again. the crowd continued to jeer at the princess. ellaria even went as far as growling at someone who had gotten too close to them, holding a sharp rock in their hand. “don’t let it delay you,” oberyn whispered as they approached a tall house that blended in with the rest of the city.

outside hung a clay flower that had been painted pink and blue and orange and yellow with hundreds of small petals. a dahlia.

aurane wasn’t sure if it was irony or a coincidence. she brushed it off.

the crowd began to disperse when they stood in front of the doors to the airen’s house. aurane recognized it to be a certain wood from sunspear, but she soon realized she was only finding small things to take her mind off of the feeling that this would life-altering.

her mother. her beautiful mother, who she had only been told stories of--only cersei and her father could describe how gorgeous mallery really was. the mother who gave her life so aurane could be standing here now.

“are you ready, lion?” oberyn looked down to aurane as her eyes only focused on the door.

she smiled. she thought of her mother and how, when she was a child, she would run around these streets of the city. how this had once been her home. “always.”

a knock. a simple knock and just a few seconds of waiting before the door was opened, revealing a small woman with graying hair and slightly taller man behind her. their skin had aged over time but had kept its darker shade of color. the woman gulped loudly. the top of her head just touched the bottom of aurane’s chin. “hello, child.” she spoke sweetly, her eyes widening. aurane smiled and looked to the man. he nodded and repeated his wife.

quick to correct themselves with formalities with, “my lord, my lady.” the old woman curtsied and her husband bowed soon after. aurane just couldn’t break her eye contact with...her grandmother. someone who she had never seen before was so connected to her. she couldn’t even speak or make any sort of coherent noise. “come in...aurane.”

it was awkward, and aurane didn’t want that at all. the woman and her husband parted from each other to create a small gap so that the three could easily enter their home. the ceiling had been too low for oberyn, so after letting his two lovers in first, he bent down and closed the door behind him. “we could hear them outside,” the older man spoke with joyful tears in his eyes at the sight of his granddaughter.

“i suppose you don’t know our names,” the woman spoke, setting down two clay cups filled with water that looked uncomfortably warm. aurane pushed her shoulders back to fix her posture and smiled politely.

“no,” she whispered, holding in every ounce of excitement. “i don’t.”

the husband took his place next to his wife and pushed a cup of water to aurane. “we can tell that you’re nervous,” he spoke kindly and carefully. ellaria stood next to her lover in the kitchens, close to the entrance so that they could hear every word. “my name is jasim,” he smiled, sitting his elbows on his knees. “this is my wife, samaya.” the older woman waved gently.

it was silent for the next few seconds, before glances were exchanged and aurane laughed brokenly. “and i’m aurane,” she choked out, feeling hot tears beginning to pool in the bottom of her eyes. “your granddaughter.”

“you look just like her,” samaya offered, capturing the way aurane’s loose hairs framed her face, how her nose just slightly curved, her top lip in a bow-shape. her skin so pure and so far from becoming withered and gray. “how could you be a lannister?”

aurane couldn’t even find offense in this remark. she’d put her old family in the past and was now opening new revelations of this one. while she felt miserable for not replying to her sister’s letters, she also told herself that not once had her family even tried to meet with her mother’s side.

maybe that’s because they wanted to kill them. the other part of aurane thought.

she chuckled as a tear dropped into her lap. “i had so many questions for you,” both of the older ones in the room softened their gaze (if it were even possible) and leaned forward. samaya placed her hand on aurane’s knee. while shrugging and dictating the first words she thought of, aurane questioned, “what was she like?”

the mere mention of her daughter left samaya with a broken sob. her and her husband thought of mallery everyday, but with their granddaughter--their beautiful granddaughter who was a spitting image of mallery--sitting in front of them, they broke. “she was lovely,” jasim whispered and looked to the gods above them. “by the seven, she was wild, as well.”

“always getting into trouble,” samaya motioned outside, where the flow of the crowd had diluted and the yelling had stopped. “you won’t believe how many times she would run away. off to the market, off to the beach.”

more sad laughter filled the room and bounced off of the concrete walls. aurane was sure that oberyn and ellaria was listening as much as possible--after all, she had dragged them all the way here. “the fish market,” jasim sniffled and wiped away the itch under his nose. “the owner always had to walk her back home because she would get lost.”

samaya nodded and her lit up. “when she was your age, she wanted to see the world,” it was like the memories were physically playing out directly in front of her. “we could never stop her. she traveled everywhere through dorne, even once to highgarden. but mallery said it was too cold.”

“yes,” aurane agreed, nodding her head and leaning on her right side. she rubbed her eyes to wipe the tears away but they replaced by several new ones. “looking back now, king’s landing and casterly rock is freezing compared the dorne.”

then, it was silent. back in the kitchen, ellaria and oberyn shared unsure glances. while the truth had yet to be shared, samaya and jasim truly believed that tywin lannister had stolen their daughter from them. of course they knew that their lies would soon catch up to them. they also knew that aurane deserved the truth because here she was, twenty-six years later in their home, dozens of questions whizzing about in her head but not one could settle down her to ask.

“we assume,” jasim started and pursed his lips. this would be harder than they thought. “you want to know about- um,”

samaya sighed and gulped loudly. “your parents.” she finished for her husband and he nodded.

aurane’s chest rose with one large inhale. her fingertips were picking at her nails, her hair was tickling the back of her neck, and for a second, it had been so quiet that she could hear even oberyn and ellaria’s breaths. she felt an eyelash fall into her eye, but she didn’t bother to wipe it out as she breathed out, “yes.”

in the kitchen, oberyn and ellaria closed their eyes and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. as much as she wanted to whisper something, anything, to her lover, she was silent. “your mother had been so excited the day they came marching in with their golden and red flags. she was...happy to meet new people, she always was,” samaya sniffled and a tear dropped directly onto the floor.

“she had friends that were flirting with the soldiers, and looking back now,” jasim laughed and let his eyelids fall. he sighed with a broken laugh, “it was hilarious to watch grown woman so shamelessly flirt with those young men.”

samaya placed a hand on her husband’s back and looked to their granddaughter for any sort of response. aurane’s eyes were fixated on the concrete floor, staring at the small patches of dust that had collected over time. “but your mother,” she spoke. “she didn’t want anything to do with the soldiers. a certain man had his eyes on her. gods, she spent the entire week smiling.” her hand linked with jasim and they simultaneously felt a clenched hand twisted around their hearts. “one day, she told us she would be leaving salt shore. and at first, we were fine, she’d traveled before,” samaya broke with one sob.

“but then, she told us of...your father,” jasim, to that day, could not bring himself to say that man’s name. “we tried to stop her from leaving. the lannisters had been cruel before and we didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

aurane’s heart cracked in two. her throat began to tighten and it felt impossible to breathe. sweat began to drip down her cheek but it was difficult to tell whether it was a tear or not. there was a punch to her chest as samaya continued to speak. “and the news began to spread. she was holding you inside of her,” aurane closed her eyes to find some kind of composure. “we didn’t know how to feel.”

jasim’s voice stuttered, quick to correct his wife. “we were happy to hear of you, we’d always wanted grandchildren,” he spoke surely, regaining his mental strength. “but, for a while, we wanted nothing to do with you. not the product of tywin lannister and our daughter. she sent us countless letters and we only responded to one,” aurane’s hand clenched the edge of her chair, her nails digging into the wood sure to leave moon-shaped indents. “but then she passed.”

“all we wanted was to see you,” they whispered together. aurane nodded and pursed her lips close together. her people had hated her for a rumor that had never, not once, been true--half of dorne hated her for the same reason. “but we had already started the rumors. we told everyone your father raped our girl and hurt her.”

it was silent again. oberyn pressed a firm kiss to ellaria’s head and craved to do the same for wife, feeling the uncertainty and confusion she felt. “there’s nothing we regret more,” his heart broke for his princess.

suddenly, it had gotten hot again. aurane’s chest ached, sending waves of pounding pain to her head. her skull was splitting open, her eyes were watering, and her entire body became sticky with sweat. “my child, what is wrong?” samaya felt stupid for asking, but she did not expect such a reaction.

aurane choked on her words and could barely even blink. “so they did love each other,” she whispered almost indistinctly. oberyn took this as a silent omen to wander his way into the room, setting his hands on her shoulder and placing his lips on the top of her head. “so my sister and brothers had been right.”

both jasim and samaya nodded gravely. aurane felt ellaria’s fingers wrapping around her own as she sat herself down on the floor. “we’re sorry, aurane,” jasim said shamefully.

oberyn’s lips trailed down to her ears where he whispered, “do you want to go, lion?” the mention of their granddaughter leaving after they had just finally met widened samaya and jasim’s eyes, and their jaws dropped open samaya shook her head with a whispered, ‘no’. aurane found comfort in the way the wood had been woven in the chair she sat on and how with every small movement she made, it would make the lightest creaking noise. aurane looked up at her husband with a crooked smile and nodded.

“you can’t leave,” samaya stood as she watched oberyn place his hand just above the curve of aurane’s ass. she rose from her chair and ellaria wrapped her arm around her shoulders, glaring at the old woman. how dare they lie? ellaria could never find respect for the lannisters, not after elia, but not ever did her lion deserve such pain. “no, you can’t. we just met you.”

a hand grabbed aurane’s wrist as they began to exit the small home that only a few minutes ago aurane had admired. “please,” jasim begged loosening his grip. “we just found you. you’re all we have, please.”

they lied. they lied.

“i’ll visit again some other time,” was all aurane said before turning on her heel. oberyn pushed open the front door her, closing it behind them just as he had when they entered. the guards still stood outside, clad in their shiny armor and weapons in their hands.

―

you will come home immediately.

- doran.

“you will come home immediately,” oberyn mocked with a curled lip as he tossed in his brother’s letter into the trash bin. the gargalens had given the three from sunspear a gorgeous room near the shore, and until this moment at the end of the week, oberyn, aurane, and ellaria had used it to their advantage. ellaria sat next to her princess, caressing the cheek of the random dark-haired maiden they invited to their bed. aurane had a boy clinging onto her torso, littering the skin of her stomach with dozens of kisses and another girl combed her fingers through her hair. “my fucking brother. can’t even let us have any fun.”

ellaria chuckled and pressed a kiss on her maiden’s forehead. “don’t worry about him, lover,” she slurred, drunk off of the fact that their last day in salt shore was spent on pleasure. “we have each other right now.” she looked to aurane who was just barely leaning into the gentle touch of the girl’s fingers in her hair. with her hands pressed against her maiden’s stomach, ellaria placed her on the bed and crawled over to the princess. “what distresses you, lion?”

she could just barely breathe. aurane began to sweat again, causing the maiden brushing her hair to immediately let go and look to ellaria with worried eyes. ellaria shooed the girl and boy away, focused on whatever was causing aurane pain. oberyn observed how aurane’s eyes became hazy and her lips were discolored. “my sun?” he furrowed his eyebrows and rushed to the edge of the bed where sat wearing nothing more than a silk robe.

aurane sighed and squeezed her temples for relief of her headache. there was a sickening pain in her lower stomach and her hand flew to clutch the skin. she leaned her head back onto ellaria’s shoulder, but before she could say anything at all, ellaria looked to her lover. his eyes were bright and his lips parted. “fuck,” aurane breathed out before standing from the bed.

a simple look and a nod exchanged and ellaria exited the room. “i need a fucking drink,” aurane whispered and stepped to their table. she started to pour herself a cup of wine before oberyn stood behind her and set the goblet down.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea, my sun,” he whispered, his lips just barely curling into a smile to hide his complete excitement.

“what?” she turned to him with a distressed look. she felt dizzy again as she exhaled through tight lips. the room began to look blurry and even the man in front of her was fuzzy. “where’d ellaria go?”

with his hands on her shoulders, oberyn walked aurane over to the mirror. “this is something you and i should talk about,” he grinned, looking at their reflection and cupping his just above her mound. at first, aurane was confused and laughed sarcastically before looking to where he touched her. her eyes softened and her mouth parted before she bit her bottom lip.

“how do you know?” she asked.

closing his eyes, he nuzzled his nose into her neck and kissed her shoulder. “ellaria went through it three times, lion,” he whispered and looked at their reflection again. “i have eight daughters.”

aurane placed her hand on top of his and gulped rather loudly. she felt her heartbeat quicken, her arms began to shake gently, and her head felt even dizzier then before, but she knew right where she was--in her lover’s arms looking down at her lower belly. her lips turned into a smile, “oh.”

tags: @pascalisthepunkest @gummiishark @ohpedromypedro @zeldasayer @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @pedropascalonline @pedropascalito @pedropascalitofics @honeychicanawrites @otherthingsinhead @wakalas @pedropascalispapi @heavenbarnes @qveenbvtch @foreverlostindreams @forever-rogue @arianawills @liadamerondjarin @absurdthirst @eternallyvenus @thewaythisis @blushingwueen @agent-whiskeys-sweetheart @pedropasscals @menacingmandalorian

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