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standfucker · 3 months

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@thermaldischage

I went for bullet points, but this kinda outgrew them, so I'll call it a drabble. It was still written with bullet points in mind so it's in a bit of a simpler style. I hope that's all good with you. Thank you for your patience!

Inuarashi Falling in Love with You

CW: none

Your ship was mangled by a storm. You clung to a piece of the hull, fighting to stay afloat among the waves. While the wood is sturdy enough to support your weight, it’s been two days and dehydration is starting to make you see things. For example, the walking continent that’s been growing larger on the horizon for some time now.

As it gets closer, the continent takes the shape of a creature. It’s so unfathomably massive, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a god, coming to take you to the afterlife. You feel yourself starting to lose consciousness as it gets close enough to cast shade over your section of the sea. The last thing you remember before blacking out is the sensation of being lifted, as if to the heavens…

You wake up in a clinic with an IV in your arm. There is a goat man peering into your face.

You scream.

He screams.

A squirrel woman yells at you both to get a hold of yourselves.

After a long explanation, you learn that you are on the moving island of Zou, and that the “god” you saw was actually a supermassive elephant, carrying an entire society on its back. Apparently, it lifted you out of the water and placed you on its back, where you were found by someone they’re calling Duke Inuarashi. This is, apparently, a huge deal to the minks.

Speaking of which, it’s your first time seeing minks in person. Thankfully, you’re also a huge animal lover, so it’s not too great a shock. The bigger concern is wondering what became your ship. Neither mink can answer that for you, but say you must speak with the Duke when you’ve recovered. At least you were sailing alone, so no one else was lost.

Recovery takes a day and a half of IV fluids and rest. You’re given a simple breakdown of how mink society is structured in the meantime. The following morning, the goat man, Dr. Miyagi, gives you a clean bill of health.

Outside the clinic is a beautiful, old-fashioned looking city with buildings hewn into the rock. There’s a lion mink waiting for you right outside the door. He rather intensely introduces himself as “Full Power” Shishilian before guiding you through the city.

Every single mink you pass by turns their heads to stare and point. Some even start following you, whispering to each other. “Don’t mind them,” Shishilian says. “Most of them have only seen humans in pictures.”

You’re a little stunned when you first lay eyes upon Duke Inuarashi. He’s so grandiose, so poised, so…gentle. Despite his size, he’s gentle when he approaches, gentle when he shakes your hand, gentle when he tells you there’s no one to take you home–their only seafaring mink are currently out on a supply mission. The mink leader is humble, refined, and thoroughly soft for all his majestic appearance suggests, and just from exchanging a few words you can sense the wisdom he carries.

You respond that without a ship, you don’t have anything to your name anyway. You were on your way to another island looking for work. If there’s work to be had on Zou, you say, you’re great with paperwork and organizing, and could take up a job while you wait for the traveling minks to return.

Inuarashi says he has been considering taking on an assistant to help out with administrative work. He doesn’t tell you that it’s a good way to keep an eye on you until he decides whether you’re trustworthy.

You’re set up in a side room in the Duke’s very home, and the ringing of the Welcoming Bell marks your official introduction into Zou.

Inuarashi is exceedingly polite and well-mannered. His office situation? Not so much. It’s a mess, completely disorganized with stacks of books and papers everywhere. You have a lot of work to do.

After a full day of labor, you finally have everything sorted into piles. Inuarashi protests that you should rest, but you’re used to long hours and stay up late anyway. You soon discover why he was concerned–the moment as the clock strikes 6, he falls asleep right then and there on the floor. He didn’t want to leave you by yourself, it seems.

You cover him with a large blanket, struggling somewhat to drag the massive bedding over his body. Then, looking left and right to make sure no one’s watching, you pet his ears. They’re smooth and soft beneath your skin. The touch makes him kick his leg in his sleep, knocking over a pile of papers. Whoops.

After that, you stop working late, simply going in with Inuarashi in the early evening. Having not yet adjusted to the mink’s schedule, it’s far too early for you, so you clean up around his home as thanks for being allowed to room there.

Inuarashi wakes up to a spotless house and you out cold. One sniff of the floral-scented cleaner tells him you stayed up late, so he decides to let you sleep in.

By the following week, everything in his office is put away and has a place. You talk to Inuarashi when he’s not busy, and find that he makes for excellent conversation. He always has a good perspective on things, or an interesting anecdote to share. The days don’t go by very quickly, but on Zou, that’s a welcome thing, as the work isn’t nearly so dreary as it was in your old life.

Inuarashi wants to trust you, but he lets a little part of him remain shrewd, just in case. He has to look after his people, after all. But you make it hard with your habits.

You call minks Mr. or Miss, plus their species name. The first time you referred to him as Mr. Puppy, he was immediately reminded of his friends in Wano. Another mink that overheard you snapped at you to show respect, but Inuarashi stopped them. “I find,” he said, “that the people who refer to us that way are kind ones.”

It was also amusing to hear you refer to Nekomamushi as “Mr. Kitty”, making him bark out a laugh at how much of a mismatch it was to the Cat Viper’s abrasive personality.

Following Inuarashi’s example, the minks pay no mind as to how you referred to them, accepting it as one of your quirks. You get along well with the minks, fitting right in. You love snuggling up to them (so soft!) and they love the physical affection. You run around playing with the mink children, help their parents with chores, and gradually make a place for yourself among their kind.

You take on a lot of tasks alone–you tell Inuarashi it’s because you’ve always lived by yourself. You wanted to be a zoologist, but were from a lower class family that couldn’t afford the schooling, so you simply worked from a young age and never really stopped. To call it a dull existence would be ungrateful, you say, as you had just enough to meet your needs and should be thankful. Inuarashi listens quietly, contemplating.

You need a pack, he thinks, to stop relying on yourself so much. The next time you’re working yourself too hard, he stops you right there, tells you you’re done for the day, and takes you out to the town center. There’s a beautiful garden situated there, and he walks you through rows of shrubs and flowers and saplings, pointing them out and explaining how they grow best when planted next to varied species, each one taking advantage of differing levels of shade. Inuarashi plucks a flower and places it in your hair. “It’s good to appreciate what you’ve been given, I suppose. But…you-gara never got the chance to stop and enjoy the bounties of life.”

“There was no time,” you say.

“There’s time now.” He looks up, over the sprawling, beautiful city. “You don’t have to rush back home. Stay a while. My house will remain open to you for as long as you see fit.”

You smile. “You’re just saying that because your space is clean for the first time.”

He chuckles. “It’s certainly a nice bonus.”

You grow closer. Inuarashi comes to trust you fully, now comfortable with letting you explore the island by yourself…but he finds that he doesn’t want to, that he prefers keeping you by his side. He finds excuses to do so, feeling a little ridiculous for it all the while. He should be beyond such foolishness.

“There’s no urgent need to visit the forest. It’s getting dark, after all. Why don’t we go another morning, together?” He’ll offer, and so on.

You start noticing the change, too. There’s the obvious signs–his tail starts wagging when you return home, for one thing. For another, he starts to refer to you informally, by just your first name. There’s smaller, subtler signs, too: his large hand alighting on your shoulder when you’re beside him, at your waist when you’re out together, or on your arm when you converse. His occasional sniffs in the air will switch to subtle, indirect sniffs of your hair when you walk by. You’ve learned each other’s preferred tea blends, and he always has a cup of your favorite kind waiting for you when you inevitably wake up after him.

You start napping together after lunch, he curled up on his giant couch and you nestled against the curve of his side. His tail thumps lightly when you first settle in. Still, you don’t think much of it until one day Carrot walks in on you two asleep, and later informs you that the Duke does not, in fact, nap with his subjects as a general rule.

“Aw, he must really care for you,” she says, and your face heats up as you stammer.

“Do, do you really think so? you ask.

“I haven’t seen the Duke be in such a good mood in ages. And why wouldn’t he be? You’re sweet.” Carrot leans in and lovingly chomps on your ear, making you yelp.

Inuarashi, never far from where you are nowadays, skids to a stop around the corner, rushing up to you two. “I heard you scream, what happened–ah, Carrot!” he scolds. “We don’t bite lesser mink. Their skin is delicate.”

Carrot apologizes, kissing the shell of your ear instead. You giggle, ticklish, and say you’re fine, but please keep it to kisses from now on.

That evening when you’re both winding down with mugs of tea, Inuarashi clears his throat where he’s sitting across from you on the couch.

“Carrot goes overboard with her garchus sometimes,” he says.

“I noticed,” you touch your ear with a giggle, and he frowns slightly. “It’s fine. It didn’t hurt too much. And she made up for it, so no hard feelings.”

“Does she do that often?” he asks.

“Do what?”

“Kiss you.”

You pause. It’s an unusual question, coming from the old canine. Something about it makes you feel weird. Uncertain and hesitant. You decide to just tell the truth: “Only on the cheek.”

“Hmm,” is all he says. It wasn’t unusual for minks to kiss or lick each other’s face as part of their greeting. Kisses on the lips were treated the way humans treated it–as either a romantic gesture, or between a mother and young child. Inuarashi’s frown dissipates, and he seems to relax, focusing on stirring a cube of sugar into his tea.

“That’s normal, right?” you ask. “I’m not missing anything in terms of mink culture, am I?”

“Not at all, my dear. You’re doing very well,” he praises. “Don’t pay me any mind. I was just being a nosy old dog.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Naturally, who you-gara choose to get close to is all up to you. Especially if you plan on staying long-term.”

Another odd statement, but it makes your heart leap. Was he implying you could become a citizen? “Is that really okay?”

“I don’t see why not,” he says. “You’ve acclimated well to life here, and you-gara seem to be happy. I can’t speak for how you felt before coming to Zou, but if it’s been an improvement, then staying would be the logical choice, no?”

“You’re talking about permanent residence, right?” you ask, and Inuarashi smiles in response. “Where would I live?”

“With me,” he says automatically, as if it wasn’t even a question. He pauses, looking sheepish. “I mean…if you would be alright with that–”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes, I’d love that!”

His tail sweeps the floor behind him as he beams. “Then it’s settled. Or…at least, it would be,” his tail stops, “the truth is, if you-gara wish to become a citizen, you need permission from Nekomamushi as well, loath as I am to admit it.”

You’ve never met the Cat Viper in person before, though you’ve heard Kingsbirds like Wanda and Carrot speak highly of him. All you really know for sure is that he and Inuarashi must never, under any circumstances, see each other.

“I’ll send Wanda to take you to him,” Inuarashi says. “The forest is difficult to navigate after dusk.”

A few nights later, you, Wanda, and Carrot (who tags along) take a Warney into the Whale Forest. You haven’t been around the crocodilian beasts much, but they’re surprisingly docile for how fierce they look. An hour of riding later, a gorilla mink stops you at an entrance to a clearing, defined by cultivated trees and shrubs. After talking to Wanda, he steps back and lets you in, revealing a sprawling little village set deep within the forest.

It’s like a repeat of the day you first arrived, with plenty of mink focused on you. One of them stands tall above the rest, even more massive than Duke Inuarashi, a monstrous cat mink–Master Nekomamushi. He’s friendly enough, though he has a serious air about him, making you nervous when he invites you–and only you–into his home to talk.

“I’ll start this off by saying I have nothing against you-gara staying here,” he says, and you feel relieved for just a moment before he adds, “but there’s something you should know.”

He leans back in his chair, puffing on his pipe before continuing. “Wanda filled me in. You-gara have been living with him this whole time, right? You smell like him. Hmph.” He pauses, and his face is hard to read, but you think he’s conflicted. “There’s no easy way to put this…but Inuarashi has been deceiving you.”

“...What?” you say. You know the two don’t get along, but Nekomamushi doesn’t seem to be messing with you. “I’m sorry. What do you mean, Mr. Kitty?”

“Nya ha ha! You-gara are just like some old friends of mine.” His grin falls, and he sighs out smoke. “All the worse that he’s been doing this to you. Listen up: Inuarashi doesn’t trust you. I know him better than anyone on this island. He let you live with him to keep a watch on you. To be honest, I probably would have done the same…”

You feel your stomach sink.

“He keeps you by his side constantly, right? Why do you think that is?” Nekomamushi says. “Because despite that kindly act of his, he has to keep his people safe from outside threats.”

“I’m,” your voice is quiet as your chest gets tight, “I’m no threat.”

“Not to him, maybe. But you-gara were a stranger. Unpredictable. That Zunesha saved you may mean a lot to the citizens, but it doesn’t give you a free pass to run about…of course, none of this is your fault.”

Inuarashi only kept you close to him to watch you? You could have sworn that he was fond of you…that he looked at you differently. Were you reading too far into things? Because you were lonely? Tears sting at the corners of your eyes and you blink quickly to get rid of them.

“I thought…” you swallowed. “I thought we were…I mean, I thought he trusted me. He acted like he liked being around me.”

“Not surprising. Inuarashi and I have fond memories with our old human pals. And, as they say… Dogs are man’s best friend, after all. I’m sure he likes you-gara. Doesn’t mean he trusts you.” Nekomamushi picks up on your unease, his nose twitching and his look pitying. “I’m sorry, Y/n. But you deserve to know the truth. I won’t let him continue lying to you-gara.”

You droop in your chair, trying to hold yourself together under this awful new information. Nekomamushi reaches out and gently pats your shoulder with one massive hand.

“Inuarashi told you-gara that our minks capable of sailing have left, I assume?” He asks, and you nod. “He didn’t count me among them, as I have duties to see to here. However…if you so wish, I will gladly take you home. I’m a better sailor than all the other minks. I can get you there safely.”

You look up at him, surprised. Nekomamushi gives you a kind smile. “You-gara don’t have to decide right now. But if you want to go home, all you have to do is ask.”

The ride back to the city is miserable and silent. Wanda and Carrot can sense that something’s wrong, but you refuse to answer them, too twisted up inside. What comfort could they offer, anyway? They adores Duke Inuarashi, and would likely side with his reasons for deceiving you. Your heart feels like it’s breaking. You love it here, and you love him, but you don’t want to live on Zou if he doesn’t return your feelings.

You barely talk to Inuarashi the next day, responding in short sentences and avoiding him where you can. Like Wanda, he knows something’s wrong, but you won’t elaborate. Inuarashi fears the worst–that Nekomamushi rejected your request for citizenship. While the Duke falls asleep promptly as usual, his sleep is troubled and restless. It’s almost like he can sense you leaving that night, visiting Nekomamushi once more in order to tell him that you’ve accepted his offer.

Nekomamushi has a boat prepared. In the meantime, you pack your things, and the following night, after Inuarashi is asleep, you go out to meet the Cat Viper for the last time at the edge of Zou. It’s childish, but you can’t help but wish that Inuarashi would stop you somehow. If only he would come after you. But you know that the two mink kings can never lay eyes upon each other.

Nekomamushi helps you get into the boat, and you get your things settled and prepare to descend. The minks working the pulleys barely touch the ropes when you all hear it: a howl pierces through the forest.

A moment later, Inuarashi bursts out of the treeline on a galloping Warney. He leaps off his mount and sprints toward the edge. At this distance, you can see that he’s blindfolded. Two mink leap into his way to keep him from getting too close to the edge, nearly getting bowled over but managing to stop him. Your heart pounds as Inuarashi cries out your name.

“Please, listen!” he howls. “Carrot overheard you speak to Nekomamushi. She told me everything. Heed my words, Y/n! I never meant to deceive you! I only wanted what was best for my people. I just forgot that ‘my people’ included you! I only kept you on such a tight leash because I was selfish. I was a bad dog. I wanted all your attention and affections for myself. Please, forgive this foolish old man, whose only crime was not telling you he loved you sooner.”

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as he speaks. You blink, and they streak down your cheeks. Before you can think twice, you try to leap off the boat and nearly fall. Nekomamushi catches you with his quick reflexes, and sighs, carrying you back over onto Zou and setting you down. “Dumb mutt…” he mutters, but you hardly register it.

You run to Inuarashi, who’s fallen into his knees. As you get closer, he sniffs the air, and his tail starts to wag. You take his large muzzle and pull it close to your chest in an embrace.

“I was never sure,” you say, voice warbling through tears.

He lets you hug his head against your body, then picks you up and holds you close. “I owe you a lifetime of apologies, dear Y/n.”

“Don’t ever make me doubt it again,” you sniffle. He can’t see you smile, so you kiss his snout. His tail wagging goes into overdrive.

Inuarashi needs a few extra hours of sleep to make up for pushing past his natural clock. This time, you both sleep together in his bed, and for the first time, he’s the one who sleeps in. You make sure to have a cup of his favorite tea ready for him for when he wakes up, then slip back under the covers to enjoy the sleepy, early hours with your new beloved.

#x reader #inuarashi x reader #one piece imagines #zen writes

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rinbowaman · 1 year

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Mermaids Tale - Chapter 3

Whats going on my peeps! I finally got done revising the original draft of MT, i did so quickly so i could get this chapter to you guys, which meant that I skipped reviewing it for corrections, but hopefully it wont be too bad and will flow.

****As i've mentioned before, the male characters in my stories are very dominating and strong type of characters, which i had revised and changed them into Heeseung from Enhypen. Recently I've learned of the term "yandere" as a few people pointed out the vibes of such in my male characters and i do agree, they definitely have yandere vibes (not intentional but i always found the traits of a possessive and obsessed male to be somewhat sexy in each story line for some reason) and out of the stories posted so far (also knowing what i now know of the term) just a heads up, Heeseung in MT is definitely yandere and this chapter is only the beginning of it. So i'll have to start including that in the tags for those that are into yandere fics. Considering how much anime I've watched all my life, i'm a bit flabbergasted that I've never heard the term before. But thank god for wikipedia because I was a bit lost whenever they kept telling me. Anyhow, needless to say, i'm sure you all sensed the yandere vibes with MGR/MRE/HHP heeseung, although its a bit more subtle or soft compared to MT Heeseung is (however it builds up in MGR/MRE/HHP because Andiy Heeseung's vibes gets stronger and he will lose control in some of the upcoming chapters). but starting off, MT Heeseung is a bit more intense. You have been warned lol but i promise, he's still a stud (like the MGR version) and the story is all still sexy and juicy. The future smut chapter is just going to be a bit intense.

Pairings: Heeseung (Yandere?) X Fem reader (mythological bloodline, siren)

Warnings: Mentions of enslavement, slave breeding (historical), slight recounts of violence, manipulations (powers) serenade, hypnotizing, and creepy behaviors of staring. I think that's it for this one.

-Begin Read-

The intensity of your heartbeat further escalated, pumping fast and hard, it felt as if it was going to explode out of your chest. With the gentle grip of your hand latched on to his, your eyes remained glued to his palm, fingers, the details of the veins, and minor imperfections. Your gazed zoned in on his fingernails, while your mouth started to part ways as you shivered slightly out of extreme anxiety and confusion. Taking note of your expression, though impressed on how lovely you still looked, Heeseung gently waved your hand while remaining his hold from the handshake, easing you to snap out of your gawking state, issuing you to look up and make eye contact with him.

You felt the sting of the teary coating on your eyes as you tried to get it together, slightly smiling yet your vision grew blurrier by the second as the glossiness increased, causing your eyes to twinkle like diamonds as you looked unto his dark, almond peepers. He opened his mouth faintly to take a deep breath, a gentle gasp as it were, as his eyebrows raised at the sight of moisture coating your beautiful eyes, though he couldn’t deny it, it had only made him infatuated with your appearance even more.

Feeling the pinched grip of his fingers around your hand, he asks if you were alright. Maintaining a half, lazy smile with heavy lids, your expression was hazy yet still sultry, deep down it was driving the young man mad, he never felt the urge to grab someone and hold them close, to embrace them, to push their body against his. The image of pressing your bodies together while he leans in as close as he can to stare into your eyes was all he could think of. He started to lose focus on your wellbeing as he was finding it hard to remain composed himself, up until you released his hand and placed yours gently over your chest and spoke out.

“Y…yes, I’m so sorry. I sometimes experience terrible heart burn and it was quite painful this time around. I apologize. Heeseung, was it? It is nice to meet you.”

You spoke as delicately as you could, although the shakiness in your voice was notable, Jennifer stepped over to your side, gently patting and rubbing your back and asking a staff waiter to bring some club soda for your “heartburn”. Heeseung on the other hand was quite shaken, it was obvious too, yet, since everyone had their attention towards you with pity, asking if there was anything you needed, when it came to Heeseung’s conspicuous expression, no one else noticed his lack of self-steadiness other than the irked woman at his side.

Shortly after, you all gathered around a large round table, seating yourselves waiting for the nights main event of live music to begin. Seated directly across from Heeseung, you avoided making direct eye contact, yet from the side you could clearly see that the man stared at you nearly the entire time. Though he wasn’t giving any harsh looks, his intrigued countenance was extreme as he studied every fine detail of your hair, face, and body. The way he rested his elbow on the table, stroking his fingers against his resting chin while memorizing every feature, raising an eyebrow every now and then, it may have seemed flattering to any other woman but for you, it made you feel uneasy. Despite how handsome and dashing he looked, you had your own reasons to be cautiously timid.

The obvious vibe of him wanting you was hard for you to ignore. It all was so strange, you were no stranger to the type of looks men gave your way, hell, even Jay and Jake had glanced at you from time to time, catching their breath each moment they took an eyeful of you, but with Heeseung, it was different. Far more different.

The look of desire was nothing out of the ordinary for you, it was just with him, it was much stronger, much ferocious, as if he was famished for you. Under any normal circumstance, men who looked your way with lust in their eyes never bothered you, it was easy for you to look the other way and break hearts as you pass each one, treating them like dust in the wind. With Heeseung, it was the first time you felt the urge to run and hide.

His gaze was intense, deep, and there was more than just lust and desire in his expression, you noted the beginning stages of this urge within him as he took in deep breaths every so often, the way his mouth parted when he stared at your face, his chest deeply heaving in slow motion, everything became ten times worse for you when you noticed him loosening his tie slightly as he stared at your side profile. Unbeknownst to him, you noted every single act without ever making it known, you did everything to avoid that awkwardness, so instead, you pretended to remain unaware. Yet it was just as hard, if not more awkward than being found out.

His hair parted off to the side, exposing his smooth forehead, was coming loose from its slick form as the front strands started to fall forward, barely brushing over his eyebrow. His tongue licking the inside of his cheek, as he occasionally bit down while tilting his chin down, causing his gaze to take on a rather sinister look, giving you a chill. Subtly taking those same fingers he used in stroking his chin, he delicately covers his mouth. Noting it, you wondered why but couldn’t lose your cover and face him to see, what was it that he was doing that he had to cover up?

Everyone else were so focused on the musical event, you and Heeseung seemed to be the only ones in the auditorium that wasn’t paying any attention, though you acted as you were, unlike the man who was obviously obsessed with staring at you.

After the live performance ended, the lights brightened from their dimmed state, everyone clapping at the artist in the front as he took his bows and disappears behind the curtain. Everyone adjusted their seating to face their plates, and continued conversing. To your horror, Heeseung never budged and remained focusing his gaze on you, only this time, his eyes drifted towards your chest, and parts of your waist that he could see in your seated state from above the table. His fingers gently remained hiding his mouth, he rested against them with his elbow still propped on the table. Your breath started to gain depth as your heart began beating faster and faster.

The servers brought out the bread baskets, Jennifer was seated between yourself and Jay, taking it upon herself as a caring person that she is, she grabbed the tongs and placed a piece of bread on each of your plates. You tried to relieve your mind by carrying on with the night, however, the attempt was interrupted the moment you reached towards the center of the table to grab a small butter ball for the bread. Just before your hand touched the bowl, Heeseung’s hand suddenly strikes out from his propped position and grabs on to your wrist. With the speed of a viper, your eyes widened at the sudden feeling of touch as his movement happened so quick, without any inclination, you didn’t have time to retract your hand or avoid him touching you.

The sudden sensation of warmth and skin overwhelmed you; you looked up at him, without his fingers to cover his mouth since they were now wrapped around your wrist, you noted the slight lick of his lips as he grazed his tongue over slowly, he did it in a manner that was faint enough to not look too suggestive, yet impossible to go unnoticed. His eyes were wide, his head faintly tilts to the side, your brows furrowed in confusion and slight fear hits as the sense of physical touch overwhelms you. Your hand shook underneath his, as much as you tried to control yourself to refrain from giving him any inclination of your discomfort. In return, he lightly scoffs and smirks at you while speaking in a low and deep tone.

“You should ask for vegetable spread instead, butter might aggravate your heart burn, yeah?”

His index finger rubs your wrist joint in an up and down motion, while his thumb slightly massages beneath it as he remains firm with his hold on you. It was too much for you to bear, you’ve never ever felt anything like this before. The only moments you could ever recall feeling any human touch was when you were in the ocean with your stepbrothers, your father, and even your mom as you all played beach volleyball and swam together. Yet, it was all a series of simple bumps, touches as you splashed water to each other, or even just holding hands as you played with the waves, but never like this, especially with someone you’ve never met and worse, outside of the ocean water.

There were a lot of factors that were unexplained, but the one thing that remained in your head the entire night since meeting Heeseung, a warning that your mother gave to you that same night you found out about your family’s ancestry.

Before you could fully think back to it, Heeseung’s constant rubbing of your wrist restricted you from gaining any tranquility to become pensive in thought. Instead, you nodded in agreement and retracted your hand back to your lap as his elbow returns to its usual spot and once again, props his foream, his hand retracts back up to his face as his fingers continue their previous act of rubbing his chin in amusement as he never breaks sight of you. The smirk remaining apparent, never leaving his face.

It was bewildering to you that everyone still hadn’t noticed Heeseung’s attention towards you, they were so caught up with conversating about everything else, even his date, Kourtney, was so invested with whatever gossip the group was enthralled in, that she barely took notice of his unusual behavior. Albeit if she had, it would have caused a major disruption as it wasn’t hard to see the woman had a jealous streak against you and remained latched on to his arm the entire time, even when you all had seated for dinner.

The evening meal went on with Heeseung still gazing at you, and you pretending to not notice, although by now, it was likely he may have figured out that you were avoiding his stare. The level of uneasiness became so apparent, it was obvious that you knew he was staring, yet he never stopped or even did anything to make it less obvious, instead, he smirked and lightly scoffed each time he noticed your breath hitched.

What was this? What behavior was this? This was getting so out of hand for you, it was eerie. He was brazening obvious with his gazing nature that your anxiety transitioned into fear and discomfort.

Finally, dinner was finished, but the night was still young, and the event was only getting started as the music continued to play, and everyone was encouraged to stand up and slow dance.

With her arm linked with Heeseung’s, as it had remained the entire event, Kourtney pulled and urged him to take her up to the front to dance, it was only at that moment that his gaze broke away from you and he looked at her with a disdained expression. For the first time tonight, you were internally grateful to Kourtney, never minding how unpleasant she had been towards you with the constant side eyes and glares she threw your way throughout the event.

With one final look your way, Heeseung agrees to take Kourtney to dance, taking her by the hand in a strong grip, leading her away into the crowd of dancing couples. Jennifer and Jay stood up, about to join in the frenzy as Jake and Martha made their way following behind Heeseung and Kourtney.

“Y/N, come dance with us.” Jennifer bids you as she gently grabs on to your arm.

Shaking your head, you politely declined and inform Jennifer of your departure.

“It’s alright Jennifer, actually, I’m not feeling too great, I’m going to go back home and rest.”

Jennifer slightly pouted, Jay leaned in and remarked how you rarely ate from your plate.

“Do you want us to drive you?” He offered.

Once again, you declined politely and stood. Leaning in, you gently pull Jennifer into a hug and gave a slight peck on her head as one close friend toward another and bid your goodbyes to the couple and encouraged them to enjoy the night.

“Okay well, call me tomorrow then? We’ll go grab coffee or something.” Jennifer exclaimed as you nodded and gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder to encourage her to not worry and to go on with her evening.

Since you were significantly older, friends that you’ve made along the way in life, such as Jennifer, were dear to you. You treated them as if they were younger sisters, although you never were blessed to have one in your family.

Growing up with only your stepbrothers, you cherished the moments when you developed a sisterhood, but it made your disconnection with them so much more painful. Each decade when you moved, changed your name, address, and phone number, you broke contact and disappeared from those that you met previously, all because you had to remain un-noticed as your appearance continued to remain ageless, much like your mother and the women in your family. It hurt to think about it, but there will be a time where you would have to do the same to Jennifer, and disappear without a trace, breaking that kindred friendship without so much as a final goodbye. You hated it but were left with no choice.

The valet staff called you a cab as you reached the main entrance of the prestigious hotel, leaving the ballroom as quickly as you could, you hid yourself to avoid being seen and more importantly, having Heeseung noticing you leaving. Something in your gut told you that he would have followed you with the way he had been behaving.

Anxiety hits you once more as you internally wished for the cab to hurry and pull up, fearing that he would emerge through the doors any moment trying to find you. To your delight, a cab pulls up and you seat yourself in the back, driving off with no sight of Heeseung. Finally, you felt as if you could breathe in peace as you gave the cab driver your address.

Walking into your large apartment, you didn’t bother turning on the lights, the room was illuminated enough by the large floor to ceiling windows that adorned your living room wall.

Plopping yourself on the couch, you sat and stared out the window wall, overlooking the entire city, the lights, the upper view of bustling people making way to all the late-night shops and clubs as the ocean waves in the boardwalk afar sprayed its salty scent in the air.

Now that you were alone and at peace, your mind traveled back in time as you remarked your mothers’ final words from that conversation so long ago, when you were just eighteen and learned of the shocking discovery of your ancestry, your body’s capabilities, and the fate that you and your mother shared, just like the women before her.

………

“Wha…what? Mama…I don’t understand.”

Your mother’s hand remains planted on her forehead, rubbing the temples with her fingertips as she tilted her head slightly, projecting the view of her eyes to look at you rather tiresomely.

“…I’m saying Y/N, you have to be careful…”

Her words scared you. Not only that, but it also further spiraled you into a state of deep confusion. Why was she being so vague? Was it because she thinks you don’t believe her? After telling her what happened during the family’s trip?

“Mommy…what do you mean? Be careful of what? Please just be completely open because…because I’m scared. I’m scared Mama.”

You could feel the tears starting to build up in the ducts of your eyes, yet she remained nearly emotionless.

“Y/n, listen to me…you need to promise me, promise me that if you ever come acr-…”

She choked up as she stopped mid-sentence. Clearing her throat, she attempts once more to tell you of the dangers that solely affect you, her, and all the women in your family before you.

“Promise me that, if you ever come across one, you get away. Do you understand? You get far away, don’t stop for anything. If you meet one, you have to run, and stay away. The farther, the better.”

Your mother nearly stumbled over her words as she kept issuing her warning.

“…Come across what though? What am I supposed to run away from?” Tears streamed down your face; everything was too much for you to intake all at once. The confession of your bloodline, what happened three years ago at the family trip to Greece, and now this abrupt warning your mother issued as she concluded the storytelling of the first ancestor, Celine.

She looked back at the window and stared at the moon for just a moment, looking back into your eyes, she tells you.

“An Adam.”

…………

“Adam? Like the name?”

“First Man…” your mother stated, signifying the meaning behind the danger that she bids you to stay away from, elaborating her words of caution.

“Adam’s is what the women in our family use to refer the descendants of a clan from Macedon, they were collectively called the Sons of Adam. A clan that has been around for a very long time, Y/n. My grandmother told me that because of history’s repeated disasters of war, famine, disease and poverty, majority of the clan diminished. If there had been any remaining, it would be a very small group, distant descendants that probably have no idea of their ancestry. With them evolving along with the rest of humanity, for hundreds and thousands of years, there’s a likely chance that the bloodline has been diluted and forgotten about. If there were any, they would be so far from the direct line of their ancestors.”

You listened intently to her, noticing that her voice was a lot steadier as she repeated the lessons her grandmother gave to her.

“But still…” She continues. “We can never be too careful.”

“What would they do to us? And why?” You urged her to answer, inquiring deeply yet you felt bad for opening that door, after seeing your mother wincing her eyes upon receiving your question.

Before Celine left the sea and married her mortal husband, many of her sisters, were hunted down and captured or killed by the Sons of Adam. It was back when Sirens and humans were at constant war against each other. With the Sirens controlling the sea, they gained the upper hand and became unstoppable and undefeated. They developed a ruthless and violent grudge against mortals for staining their mark on the creations of their forefathers.

The Sons of Adam, though it is unknown why, were immune against all the Siren’s abilities. Even their ability in the water was superior to that of any other man, and it wasn’t favorable to the Sirens.

The maidens used their voices, and their hypnotizing chants, yet nothing deterred any Adam. The only thing that would affect them, was the Siren’s enchanting beauty, yet the effect only served as motivation for the Adam’s to capture the Sirens instead of killing them off.

The Siren’s resorted to their most notable capability, which was known in slaying thousands of ships at a time, the mortals called it the Siren’s Edge.

“What’s that? The Siren’s Edge?” You questioned as your mother retells the history behind Adams and Sirens.

“Back in the old days, people called it that because they say that whoever falls into the trap of a Siren who “edges” it made you feel as if you were breaching the edge of a cliff, leaning over to fall to your death. That was the feeling many would feel as they witnessed it. It’s stupid and silly, but that was our most useful weapon to destroy kingdoms and armies.” Your mother recounted the verbal notes of her grandmother’s lesson.

Reaching over to the side, your mother grabs an old book she had brought in. Flipping through the pages, she hands it to you and gives a subtle notion for you to read the inscription. Taking the book, it appeared it was an old diary of some sort, too old and barely held together by woven threads, you remarked the worn leather of the book cover only to find it wasn’t leather, but whale skin. The pages were notably patched and made by hand, evident by the thick crustiness of the mâché patterns, creating a blotchy dried connection of various colors and texture. You read the inscribed details of the page your mother booked marked for you, it was a detailed account by a sailor who wrote down his horrid experience when his ship and crew came across a group of Sirens.

“March 01, Year 1432,

Amid the midst of my travels, I have seen many great hallmarks of God’s country and his never-ending sea of blue. Never would I have imagined that beauty could exist in the form of ugliness. Up until the day we had set sail, our ship glazed towards the coast of the Sparta Island, where she steadied herself against the tropic waters.

It was there that I had witness an image that I have begged God to take back. Others and myself have prayed countless times, but alas, the face of pain remains painted in my eyes, and their screams echo in the depths of my soul.

It was my first at seeing a siren, and as the rumors followed, she is a beauty that is incomparable. It was alarming. For though we have heard of their violent temperament, their faces appeared gentle and calm, like the tranquil waters of the Mediterranean or the whispering waves of the Baltic Sea. Instantly, she became the Aphrodite to every man’s dream.

I watched from a distance, as the men who gazed upon them directly, succumbed to the effects of what I believe to be, the Sirens Edge. Mark my words upon reading this inscription, one must never blink their vision upon her as she edges, for a glance to a single strand of her hair is enough to trap him in the darkness of her creativity.

I watched, as her beauty became fiercely vibrant, her features, which normally reflected the heavenly attributes of Venus herself, would transform. The lightness and pastel colors in her hair, lips, and eyes, would turn bold and dark, reflecting the color palate suited for Hades in the underworld; the fairness of her appeal turned into a different type of beauty. One that I could never forget, though it pains me to say a part of me refuses as it was something I have never seen before. Their beauty does something to every man, from the depths of my being I roared in lust and desire like never before. It was a beauty unheard of, unforeseen and unread. It was both seductive and sinister, sultry, and alluring, reflecting the powers of sex and lust. It was a feature that no woman I’ve seen in my day could ever attempt to encompass, let alone expel it. Truly, the sight of her is a blessing, the sight of her on edge, is a sin.

As I witnessed it, I yearned to see more of her. Possibly succumbing to the effects of it as well, though I was fortunate to not be subjected in their direct sight. What I saw following, had all but shocked me to death, as I heard her voice speak out, compelled the men to tell her that they loved her, that there was no other woman like her. I watched as I heard the desperation in their voices as they answered, the look of torment as the strongest desire to hold her and feel her against their own body drove them to near madness.

I watched…as she receives her answers and make her demands on to them. The Siren beseeched the men to do harm onto themselves and to each other, acts of torture that no mortal could ever be devious enough to think of, it was unimaginable and unspeakable. Her voice, that was once pure and sounded like the whistling of bells, turned deep and slow, it carried the demonic aura much like the warning cries of the raven. Her mind would drift to ideas as she ordered them to set themselves aflame and burn alive, or to flay the skin off their own bodies.

Another told the men to slit their chests open and rip their hearts out, wanting them to present it as a token of their love for her.

I watched as one by one, each sea maiden toppled one torture over the other, and worse…I witness the fear in each man’s eyes as they were forced to do it upon themselves. The skin of their faces ripping from the pains of their screams. Dear God, how could demons exist in such beauty? How could it?

Should the sirens remain present, even leagues away within the sea, humanity will fall. For I fear their bloodlust is too great and demanding on them, our ships will never pass through the minor, we will henceforth become trapped by them, for I have seen with my own eyes, these maidens, when in water, will form tails of a fish with scales that shine and glisten like new steel. When outside the water, they carry long slender legs, appearing like mortal women with beauty incomparable, tricking any man that dare step near them. As God as my witness, we are all on the brink of destruction.”

The clan killed off many sirens, nearly all of them, but preserved a small number for capture and enslavement, where they became the clan’s slave-breeders. The Adams bred with the unworldly maidens to produce the future generation offspring of Adams, so that they would gain the powers of Poseidon, enhancing their unexplained abilities or even gaining new ones, such as decreased aging and extended lifespans. They even would inherit the trait to serenade, an ability that made the Sirens well known for.

Adams and their descendants never sire daughters, only sons. It’s one of the phenomenal traits of their lineage, and it has always remained that way since the 8th century when the clan was formulated.

Sirens and their descendants can only have daughters, to continue the generation of Sirens. Yet, when it came to the offspring of an Adam, it was discovered by those that were enslaved, that the continuation of the clan’s bloodline overpowered the genealogical trait of Poseidon’s daughters, thus with an Adam, a Siren will bear sons, the only time they produce males.

After explaining the history between the two bloodlines just as her grandmother had done to her. There was a slight pause of silence that filled the room. It permitted you to take a moment to understand certain aspects of your life that you used to find odd or questioned. Such as your stepfather and his sons from a separate marriage, were always remarked as being the only males in your mother’s side of the family, it never dawned on you yet now, it all made sense. In your mother’s family line, it was all females, aside from their husbands who all remained unaware of their fate. Your mother explained that when the time comes, after being married toa mortal man and for the family secret to remain undetected, the women in your family would disappear without a trace, much like how you did with your friends each decade.

“The women in our family will never expose the truths, as much as it pains us. It’s only natural, we have come so far from the first-born Sirens, we no longer have a ruthless hatred against mortals. We don’t. The women in our family all have loved, married, and bore daughters with mortal men, spending many years with them as loyal and committed wives. Of course, we would be saddened at the prospect of suddenly vanishing and leaving them.”

You took note of what she was saying and glanced up at her. “Where do they go?”

Your mother looked at you and smiled, again, it was a smile filled with sadness and slight grief as she voices out the fate of the women before her, the fate that she will have to follow suit someday.

“We go back to the Adriatic Sea, the birthplace of Sirens. That is our fate, well, if you marry a mortal, it’s an unspoken pact that allows us to remain free and undetected, yet it’s a lonely continuation of our life as we roam the oceans trying to find the remaining Sirens or drifting to an undiscovered island. We will never live on manmade land ever again once we enter the water.”

Your breath paused. That didn’t sound like a life to live at all, but neither did walking on egg shells and living amongst people, placing yourself at risk of coming across the one thing your mother shook at speaking of, the Adam’s.

Replaying your mother’s warning in your head, the shocking intrusion of her warning submitted a spiral of chills up your spine as her voice echoes in your head while the image of Heeseung’s hand gripping yours remained as a still image in your line of sight.

“So if I did meet … an Adam. How will I know?”

You recalled asking the question with a shaky voice.

“…You’d feel him.”

Pure shock stuns you into a trance, her words suddenly pierced your ears the moment you brought her warning to memory, the felt of Heeseung’s touch came back to your senses and felt as if it was crawling on your skin.

“You mean…as in touch…like their skin? We can feel them physically? Even without being in the water?”

“Everything, Y/n.”

Nearly cutting you off, her soft-spoken voice calmly follows suit of your pondering questions without missing a beat as she continues.

“We can and we would feel everything. Even without being anywhere near the ocean. That is the most significant way to tell, since the beginning of time, Adams became the only man that Sirens can feel. That means, they can inflict pain and we would feel it. Outside or beneath our skin. It is the one true weakness that we have, the Clan of Adams.”

“Then…what then? If I run, where do I go? Does that mean I…I have to go to…”

One last sigh of the night, and your mother looked at you with a very subtle look of relief as she answers your questions with the words that was accompanied by a sorrow-felt smile.

“No different from the ones that married, you too will have to go back to the sea.”

………

****omg wtf is wrong with Tumblr in this tagging business. freaking aye! wont let me add or select all the tags. Geezus Tumblr you only have like one freaking job.

#heeseung hard hours #enhypen hard hours #heeseung smut #heeseung scenarios #enhypen smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung hard thoughts #enha x reader #enha heeseung

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darkness-holds-eternal-light · 1 year

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So, one thing I would like to word out before I retreat a bit.

As you can see some posts ago, I have talked about the 'Harry Potter'-actors, who display some pretty clear imagery unfortunately of structures in the current society here on earth that are very, very unpleasant. I think if you've researched it a bit, you are aware of what I mean.

So make of that what you will. It doesn't really matter what media you watch or what artist you enjoy, it all basically leads to the same sh*t.

Anyways, I watched "Gambit" a couple of days ago for some distraction, because it was on TV. And it was hilarious, I loved the movie! ;) It was really fun but I did notice some strange undertones and then the next day I saw someone pointing it out too. Now you could argue that it is still not extremely overt or leave it open for discussion. In my opinion it is enough to question how deep everyone who participated in this movie was involved with this structure. (I find the one with the lion actually super concerning. God bless and protect the beautiful animal, who was involved in the making of that scene here!)

And yesterday I actually remembered this one movie that Alan did waaayyy back in the day, called "Closet Land" (1991) . I had never really paid it any mind because it seemed just kinda weird to me. But like

You see that with different eyes today.

The thing is, I don't even generally mind the topic but as far as I can see it is a very disturbing "role play" also. I could see it as artistic to some extent but having done parts work for a while now I also am more aware of what I'm seeing plus the imagery again, you catch my drift.

I'm not entirely sure if I should give it a try and watch it, because I think it's probably pretty intense and well executed. But aside from the setting, it is also pretty heavy as far as I've seen and as always Alan definitely knew exactly how to hold and touch a woman but it is in the context of severe torture here, so I don't think it is healthy to associate that together. I don't entirely buy that sadistic stuff on his side because he always has that super gentle undertone in his manner and his actions. But maybe that movie would show otherwise, since there are apparently so many layers of physical and psychological torture involved in the story.

I don't know, bottom line is, I don't know how deeply he was involved in the societal structures that I spoke about and that's pretty nasty. We'll all find out eventually and have to each decide for ourselves what consequences we draw from that.

#movies #thoughts #gambit #2012 #cameron diaz #colin firth #alan rickman #harry potter #symbolism #illuminati #freemasonry #society #closet land #1991 #madeleine stowe #structures #heavy dislike

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idvnsfwconfession · 2 years

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as a xie bi'an irl...I just want to see wujiu get absolutely destroyed. wujiu is bratty as hell, and I would enjoy nothing more than to overestimulate him until he cries.

☔️ (if it's not taken)

“This is Propaganda”-Fan Wujiu

But you’re absolutely fucking correct oh my god hold on it’s my turn here

Okay but we all know how Wujiu and Bi’an are opposites right? How Bi’an is a calm collected kind and warm understanding and patient person right? (How he’s also got ara ara vibes) And How Wujiu is a hot head short fuse ready to fight ready to bite cold silent loud mouth intense emotional harsh person right? And We all know how much they adore one another right?

Look Bi’an absolutely 100% a touchy affectionate person not really caring if he gets a little handsy so long as no one notices which they never do with how good he is and he’s also absolutely into more harsh intense things like BDSM leather whips chains restraints all of that and there’s no way he lets Wujiu get out of some of the problems he causes without proper punishment and it doesn’t even have to be a punishment on his beautiful Wujiu! He could just be in a wonderful mood and wants to feel him up a little making him needy in the process but promising he’ll take care of him later to which he ‘forgets’ making Wujiu try to indirectly ask for ‘help’ as he’s too embarrassed to actually say it out loud

Wujiu is more emotionally repressed trauma and autism and has a hard time expressing his feelings but when he does it’s in a poetic gentle manner! He can’t really handle being shown kindness and it can overwhelm him but in a good way! The poor guy is easily embarrassed and flustered too! If you kiss his neck just right he loses all previous bite and gets shy before doing his best to be scary once more! This man is an amazing flirt and he’s well aware of it and he can dish it out to make anyone a mess in his fingers! The only one able to do it back to him with the same effect is Bi’an who makes this ‘Beast’ into nothing more than a kitten. He’s not at all a bottom they both are switches but Bi’an knows just how to tame his ‘beast’ and make him a whimpering bitch begging for more, muzzles restraints sensory deprivation nothing is too good to keep Bi’ans beloved in line!

And even with all the kinky things they can still have some of the most loving gentle passionate sex that would make you think it’s their honeymoon if you saw, they love each other more than anything in the world and only want to make the other happy!!

(They both also built like 8s big ass big booba small waist but their uniforms are rather good at hiding it, broken blossoms not so much)

I absolutely think that to anybody else (Joseph mainly is their prime victim of such fate) Wujiu could make them unable to walk for days he’s a complete animal but there’s a very specific small handful of men he will bottom for of course Bi’an being one of them! And when he does get to be someone’s bitch he turns into either a virgin bride on her wedding night at the mercy of whoever he’s under unable to do anything with how embarrassed and shy and completely gone his mind is or a complete total whore just beginning for more and to be touched more and fucked harder screaming to be bred like the little slut he is

When he gets to dom though he’s just as this or that! But for the most of it it doesn’t matter if his partner is man or woman he’s gentle and passionate wanting to take it slow and worship the body of the one beneath him just teasing and gently touching just to hear them whimper and all the beautiful sounds that come out of them, taking his time to make sure they’re having an amazing experience and he’s not hurting them making sure to whisper how beautiful they are and how much he loves them and what a good job they’re doing! At the end making their orgasm last as long as possible not even caring if he cums when he’s like this. ON THE OTHER HAND he can be on the same level as Bi’an but still wanting to keep it slow mainly out of fear he might go too far but try as he might he really just becomes an animal when he gets the chance! Whoever is beneath him is his little toy whore cocksleeve that’s not allowed to cum until about his fifth time and they better hold all of his cum inside or they’ll be harshly punished for disrespecting him in such a way, you really think begging like that is good enough? You’ll have to use your mouth for something better! You’re going to end up with deep bruising and bite marks maybe a burn mark depending on how much beast he released and when he finally comes down to earth again he’s beyond embarrassed and ashamed making sure to take incredible care of them after and treat them like a monarch and refusing to let them so much as sit up outside of drinking water or the warm bubble baths, he’s going to praise them and apologize profusely for everything but still reassure he didn’t mean it when he called them a two bit skank- unless they liked it then he meant it, he doesn’t know they’re too pretty for him to really think ehe

#as fan wujiu irl hiiiiii💖💖💖#how obvious is it that I’m into MXTX?#identity v fan wujiu #identity v xie bian #wu chang #identity v wu chang

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magnoliamyrrh · 11 months

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oh and like. last thing ill say on here bc i have to go back to doing school stuff and later tonight ill answer the v sweet messages yall send me (thank u 🧡)

but since ive been talking a lot abt psychadelics and the good and bad parts of them, i should probably say that psychadelics arent exactly a "fast track" or magic thing to reaching spiritual enlightenment or something

yes, it happens very often that even hard-line atheists will take shrooms or acid and have some life-changing experience and from that point on believe in divinity or the oneness of everything or become rather spiritual and religious, or that ppl will turn their entire lives around for the better. yes, you can have experience which make you very much feel, see, and become the oneness of everything - ego death moments when you understand oneness of god to a crazy level; others say they have seen crazy glimpses of the face of god. yes, im pretty sure that - despite not really believing in this concept before - psychadelics showed me what is meant by the idea of eternal death and rebirth, and what it means to kill your ego and be freed from the cycle; moksha. yes i understand religious teachings infinately better than i did before, even tho ive been obsessed with theology since i was a little kid, and when i reached my preteens i really got into studying it. yes they can make you much more empathetic and open and also theres a chance if you didnt before, youll start believing in things like telepathy or asteal projection or animism afterwards. yes, they can remove the fear of death from you, you can understand what it is to "die before you die" as the sufis say. yes, they can probably prepare you for what death may be like

..... but thats not like,,,, "reaching enlightenment" per say. firstly each intense psych. experience like that, you should spend some weeks, months, or years pondering on and integreating into your personality and life. and the true spiritual enlightenment is being able to live your life, consistently, by those teachings, experience, and moments - which is hard, and requires much patience, wisdom, sacrifice, willingness, and the further acquisition of knowledge. god damn even after all these years and how strong my conviction is about many things, i still v much struggle with this, i am no shaman or mystic or guru. i still struggle with hopelessness, desperation, ego, i forget what was taught and spiral again ... id also say, similarly, true spiritual enlightenment is afterwards being able to reach and understand such states outside of the help of psychadelics

.......... and i think its something to be careful with too. you know that idea from hinduism - not the new age crap the actual idea - of kundelini awakening? of what happens when the divine energy and power which flows through you - is awakened suddenly, but before youve really reached the ability to be able to handle it spirituality? it is said it can drive you mad, drive you insane (frankly deep divine experiences will drive anyone a little insane tho, inevitable, psychadelics or not), that it can make your body hurt and ache and collapse under it, because it is not ready, it is too much, too fast..... there are those who say this has very much happened or is happening to them, and it can be very hard. this concept very much applies

not in all cases, but in some. deep psychadelic experiences, spiritual of divine ones, sometimes they do not feel gentle at all. sometimes they do, for some, and i am happy for them. but they can be painful, terrifying, beautiful, loving, but it can feel like being burned alive to be clensed while simultaneously feeling healed and protected, or like having every atom in your body ripped apart and spread across time and space - guess thats why kali is portrayed as being so terrifying.... it can indeed be hard to handle

ay, as i said before, theyre not snake oil. theyre not a one time magic pill fix everything. psychadelics are a tool which may help you, but they require and demand much personal effort, work, care and deep respect

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binxyu · 3 years

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Being the main writer for the college paper made it particularly hard for people not to be in your business because, well, you were in their’s. Thus, everyone in the school was aware of your relationship with Juyeon and Hyunjae. But, that doesn’t stop a flirty athlete from hitting on you.

>>Pairing: Lee Jaehyun x Lee Juyeon (doms) x fem!reader (sub) | athletes!jaehyun and juyeon x writer!reader

>>Word Count: 4.3k

>>Genre: Oneshot / Requested / Smut

>>Warnings/Kinks: Choking, creampie, cum eating, cum play, double penetration, exhibitionism/public sex, harassment (not from the boys), marking, oral (giving + receiving), possessiveness, praise, saliva, and unprotected sex

The reminder you had set on your phone was not enough to take your focus off the man in front of you.

Truth be told, you were quite forgetful for a person with such a tight schedule.

Writing on your hand was tried. It didn’t really work considering you washed your hands consistently throughout the day (damn the germs in colleges), smudging the ink to an unreadable blur on your hand.

Thankfully, that’s how you had met your boyfriends. Yeah, plural. There’s an s there.

You had been rushing towards an assignment you had been given for the paper. It was a request to interview some of the top students in the music department and damn late wasn’t even enough of a word to describe how long ago you were supposed to be there.

Showing up a couple hours late resulted in most of the students already gone, hiding away in their dorms for the afternoon.

But, there were two students still waiting for you. Lee Jaehyun (although he likes people to call him Hyunjae) and Lee Juyeon.

They were your saving grace for your paper and, in return, you let them take you out on a date.

Now, months later, your relationship with them still ran strong.

But, apparently your hearing didn’t because the reminder sound on your phone didn’t even register as you write down practically everything the athlete was telling you.

He actually was a classmate of your’s and a pretty popular one at that. The whole school practically knew about him.

“And that’s how I beat the record”, you nodded sweetly, keeping that signature interviewer smile on your face. It did a fantastic job of getting people to open up and this guy was no exception.

“So, one last question, are you dating anyone?”, you weren’t asking for yourself. Especially not when you were already quite... busy... with the two men you were already dating. It was more for the majority of the female population in the school who did like him.

Besides, everyone in the school knew about you and, more specifically, your polyamorous relationship. It wasn’t seen everyday to be fair. You three stuck out like a sore thumb.

“No, I haven’t really been looking”, bullshit. You had been to the football games, the man loved to rile up the crowd. He practically chucked his shirt into a girl’s face the other night when it was “too hot”.

It was just above 50 degrees that night.

“I see. Thank you for the interview”, you smiled and he nodded, smiling back at you before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind.

“Are you looking?”, he must have noticed the shocked expression you had because his hand encased your’s, seemingly trying to soothe you as his thumb traced the back of your hand.

All it did was make you more anxious.

“No, sorry, I’m not. I’m actually taken”, there goes that reminder again but you ignored it. It was probably just your reminder to take your gummy vitamins or something stupid the boys put in there because they cared. Maybe a little too much sometimes.

“Oh, by who?”, it wasn’t a curious question. He didn’t believe you. His tone said it.

“By us”, uh oh.

Turning around, you were met with your two lovers. They hovered over you like angry wolves and you could only feel like a little lamb underneath them.

The athlete had flirted with you before and that only made the situation more intense. Of course the football player knew about your relationship. It just didn’t seem to matter to him.

Until, well, now you guess.

“You didn’t come”, shit. So, that was the reminder?

You had a date with them after this interview and it completely flew out of your mind like a paper lost in the wind.

“Sorry, I lost track of time”, they nodded and, for a moment, you thought you saw their eyes soften as they look at you but they just returned back to those icy cold stares.

Even the muscular athlete was scared. Everyone knew how possessive your boyfriends were.

It was pretty obvious after a particularly ignorant party animal laid his drunk hands on you. Before he could do anything else, he was already thrown on the floor with Juyeon’s fist landing on his cheek while Hyunjae pulled you back into his chest like he was some kind of shield.

It was hot, you weren’t going to lie, but it did make you a little worried for people you truly did just want to be friends with.

“Hey, babies, let’s go. Let’s go have our date now”, you placed each of your hands on their chests. It was a gentle move that always seemed to calm them and you smiled as you felt their heartbeats slow down, your own starting to match theirs as you felt it through your hands.

“Fine but you”, Hyunjae pointed with precision at the man, “stay away from her. She doesn’t like you and she’s said no multiple times. She’s ours” the man finally nodded and ran off while you were stuck standing there with a wave of arousal shooting to your core.

Ignore it. You can’t be walking around with marks again-

The internal scold fell short as the boys wrapped you up in a hug. You could practically feel the warmth from their anger coming off of them in waves.

“Next time listen to your reminders. We set them for you for a reason”, Hyunjae scolded you, grabbing your phone to turn off the pesky sound. You really didn’t hear it. Maybe your hearing does need to be checked.

“I know I know. I’m forgetful”, you pout and the boys looked at it, wanting nothing more than to kiss your pouty lips until they’re swollen. Juyeon just chuckles instead and ruffles your hair sweetly.

It was such a sharp contrast to how cold he looked a minute ago but you were used to it. They were usually cold to others but were exceptionally sweet to you.

Well, most of the time.

“Come on, dory. We’ve got to get outside”, that’s always been Hyunjae’s favorite nickname for you. Sadly, you couldn’t argue that it didn’t suit you.

Sometimes you even forget what your name is.

“Okay”, you nodded and held their hands, walking securely in between them. You always did feel safe with your boyfriends and being without them was honestly terrifying. They were like your bodyguards.

Out in the beautiful field of the campus was a little picnic blanket, laid out with plenty of your favorite foods.

They always loved to spoil you and, while the sight in front of you wasn’t much of a surprise considering it was their favorite form of dates, it made you happy nonetheless.

“Aw, thank you boys”, you gave them both a peck on the cheek and sat down. You weren’t much for public displays of affection.

Hand holding? That was fine. It was their way of saying that you were their’s. But, the bigger things like kissing or hugging? That was more of a private thing for you.

Those were actions you did when the three of you could safely display your love for one another without being judged because, let’s be honest, you’re not much of the outgoing type.

Sure, you have to talk to lots of people for your writing, but that didn’t mean you liked to. You actually liked to keep to yourself.

It was odd considering Hyunjae and Juyeon were quite popular due to their singing skills. Everyone wanted them but they only had their eyes set on you.

They helped you sit down, filling up your plate with delicious treats that almost had you drooling. You just realized how hungry you were when your stomach let out the most obnoxious growl you had ever heard.

Okay- maybe you also forget to take care of yourself. When you’re busy the last thing on your mind is what your body wants. Just the task at hand is important.

“Dory, do we need to start setting reminders for food and stuff too?”, Hyunjae shook his head as Juyeon handed you the plate of food. You quickly shook your head back, taking a bite of the fruit sitting on the plate in your lap.

“No, I just got busy. I’m not too hungry”, Hyunjae looked at you with the most untrusting look. He knew you and he knew that you frequently “got busy” and that meant you frequently forgot to take those vitamins or to at least drink water.

As you ate, you started to circle the important details you had written down during the interview, making a clear note in your head to add those facts into the paper.

Sad thing was: the athlete barely gave you anything to work with. Most of it was just bragging or hitting on you.

“What an asshole”, you sighed and rested your forehead on Juyeon’s shoulder. He simply chuckled and started to run his fingers through your hair. You weren’t a saint by any means but cussing was rare. You found it to be a bad habit in public while you swore like a sailor in the safety of your bedroom.

“Frustrated?”, Hyunjae asked, rubbing your back with his large palm, working the knot he knew you had. They really did know your body so well.

“Yeah, he didn’t really give me anything to work with. Just flirting”, you didn’t mean to let the last part slip out. It was just what you thinking about and sometimes that filter in your brain was clogged with all the useless information you kept there.

“Maybe you could do your report on someone else?”, surprisingly, the response was calm and you had to let out a sigh of relief.

“Maybe. I’d have to ask”, you were the writer for the school but it didn’t mean you had free will. Everything had to be ran by someone else. Every decision.

“Alright, I’d feel much more comfortable if you didn’t have to talk to that guy again”, you nodded in agreement.

God forbid something go right because weeks later, after one failed attempt at switching stories, you were put on the athlete’s case once again. This time it was because he was the reason the school won against their rivals.

So, there you sat on the desk chair. You had just finished your journalism class and, ironically, the jerk was in the class with you. You both just agreed to do the interview in the classroom.

You had already told the boys about it and they promised to check in soon. You were worried but also thankful. Your gut had an awful feeling about this guy.

As you were reaching for your notepad and pen, a hand stopped you. It was wrapped around your wrist and you looked up in surprise to see the athlete’s eyes sparkling with mischief.

That can’t be good.

“Come on, no one has denied me before. Why won’t you go out with me?”, it made you scoff and you yanked your wrist from his cold, rubbing the red flesh with your other hand.

“Because I’m taken. So, drop it”, that seemed to strike a nerve. He looked furious and fear flowed through your body when he got up.

Before he could reach you, a hand gripped the collar of his shirt, lifting him up and throwing him out of the room. Juyeon rushed to you, gently wiping away tears with his thumbs.

Wait- you were crying? You hadn’t even noticed.

Hyunjae seemed to take the high road and just simply shut the door in the student’s face, locking him out.

They honestly rarely fought but when they did it was brutal. That’s why they tried to never do it in front of you.

“Are you okay? He didn’t touch you?”, you reassured him you were fine by letting him look you over, his eyes quickly looking over you as if you had some hidden life threatening injury.

After some time, you were already feeling better. The boys had made it their mission to make you laugh as much as possible in the classroom, doing silly dances and even tickling you. They just loved your laugh too much.

“Baby, I have an idea for your newspaper”, Hyunjae looked a little dazed. Well, more than dazed. You couldn’t blame him considering you had all been playing a game of cards and you sucked so fucking bad at it. Therefore, your little game of stripping if you lost resulting in the boys completely clothed while you sat there completely bare.

“And what is that?”, you shivered as the cold air hit your back. Juyeon pulled you in between his legs and wrapped his arms around you in an attempt to keep you warm. Plus, his hold was barely below your breasts and he truly did love those.

“Make it a smut”, you gasped when Hyunjae connected his lips with your’s harshly, a little more rough than usual. Then, it hit you, they held all that anger in just to use it on you.

While you would never actually write a smut for the school paper (unless you really wanted to be fired), you liked to idea of using it to rile them up. They loved your writing and, more specifically, the wonderful sex scenes you wrote.

Anytime you were busy, you’d write them one and then you’d be happy to oblige to their request to act it out when you got back to your dorm. Sometimes they were short scenes and sometimes they were long. Either way, the boys were happy to help you fulfill your fantasies.

The only difference today is that there is no prompt. They get to make up the story themselves.

“Do you want me to tell everyone how good you two fuck me? How well you stretch me out?”, just your words alone had Juyeon’s erection desperately trying to escape the confinement of his jeans. You could feel the bulge against your back and you watched as the wetness started to coat your thighs.

“Yes, tell everyone how good we make you feel”, you nodded in agreement and looked at the door, thankful that there was no windows uncovered in the room.

Finally, feeling safe, you turned around and started to unzip Juyeon’s jeans, pulling it down his legs along with his boxers. You simply tossed them, watching them land on the surface of one of the desks.

Hyunjae wasn’t far behind, removing his own clothes and doing a similar action to them, discarding them as if they were the trash beneath his feet.

“Turn around”, you nodded, turned your body back around and you immediately knew what he wanted. You leaned down to make yourself level with his cock, your eyes running over the veins and the angry red tip. Your ass was right where the man wanted it, high up in front of him.

Your lips wrapped around his shaft, running your tongue along the sides to coat it in your saliva. It always made the movements a bit easier. Juyeon groaned and dove his tongue down your slit, suckling at your clit once he reached it.

The moan you let out sent a vibration through his sensitive tip, causing his thighs to shake slightly. It was a beautiful sight.

Not forgetting about your other boyfriend, you looked up to make eye contact with Hyunjae. He licked his lips as he watched you practically gag on the large cock that belonged to Juyeon.

He was always a bit of a voyeur and, as much as he loved the sight, he couldn’t wait any longer. He sat on his knees next to you and moved his own cock closer to your mouth.

Hyunjae was bigger than Juyeon, stretching you out beyond belief but Juyeon was longer, hitting your cervix with every thrust. Both were a perfect mix of pleasure and pain. Different but well balanced.

You brought your head back, releasing Juyeon from your mouth and you replaced where your mouth had been with your hand, jerking the man off. A long string of saliva connected your mouth to his but you couldn’t care because Hyunjae’s dick was far too tempting to forget.

You wrapped your mouth around his cock now, feeling your jaw lock slightly from the sheer volume you had taken in. He was just as delicious as the previous one and you couldn’t help yourself from sucking him like he was your favorite lollipop. To be honest, he was.

Juyeon slipped a finger inside of your dripping cunt and you whimpered, listening to the sound of your pussy clenching around the digit, soaking it in your wetness.

“I think she can take both of us now”, you stopped for a moment, a little surprised. Sure, you three had discussed double penetration but you never really felt ready. Could you really handle that much?

Maybe you could.

“Let’s do it”, your words came out muffled since you were still infatuated with the taste of Hyunjae’s dick. The boys smirked at one another and Hyunjae gripped your hair to pull you off of him. Your hand instinctively let go of Juyeon’s dick too, missing the feeling of having something to play with.

You never liked to sit still but you knew you probably were going to have to after this session.

“Up here then, baby”, Hyunjae chuckled as you yelped, his arms under your body as he laid you across the desk. You winced when a pencil sharpener landed on the floor off the desk, probably breaking into pieces.

How had no one heard you before this? You had no idea.

Juyeon got up off the floor, rushing to Hyunjae’s side. Hyunjae held your thigh and pushed it open more, taking in the beautiful sight of your glistening pussy. It was his favorite work of art and Juyeon wanted nothing more than to continue the feast he was in the middle of.

“Alright, we’ll go one at a time, okay? If we need to stop then tell us. You okay with this still?”, Juyeon asked softly. Despite how cold they were, they still asked for permission and it was especially important now.

“I’m okay with it. I’ll tell you if you have to stop”, you nodded and looked up at the two. Fuck, you were so lucky.

They both had little stars in their eyes whenever they looked at you and it always reminded you that they were indeed your stars. Those little stars in their eyes only lit up when they looked at you.

Hyunjae decided to go first as the bigger of the two, gently easing his way into you. The stretch was slightly uncomfortable at first but no longer painful. You had adjusted to both of them rather quickly solo but together? That may be a bit harder.

Right when he brushed against that specific spot inside of you, you covered your mouth and moaned, gripping the edge of the desk.

Hyunjae watched you, smirking when he realized you were already becoming overwhelmed with pleasure. He loved watching you try to hold onto anything to keep your grounded to reality. He always seemed to bring you to cloud 9.

“All in. Now you’ll take Juyeon too, right? You’ll be a good girl and take him too?”, you nodded obediently and looked between your legs, noticing that Hyunjae had completely bottomed out inside of you. You already seemed so full, a bulge present in your stomach from where Hyunjae had settled.

Truly, no one could make you feel this good with so little effort but them.

Juyeon gripped your other thigh and pressed small kisses there, a gentle reminder that it was okay to stop him. That he loved you.

He sucked a few marks to the skin, making you whine because once they start they don’t stop. You’ll be covered in marks by the end of the hour.

Once you were spread wider, almost completely folded, Juyeon guided his cock in beside Hyunjae’s. Now, that hurt.

“Slower! Slower please”, Juyeon quickly nodded, noticing that your eyes were watering. He gently wiped them away and stayed still for a moment so you could get used to the stretch. When you nodded, he slowly moved again and you felt your vagina quickly adjust to the size. Like you were made to handle both.

And, now, you couldn’t stop moaning under your hand. It did very little to muffle the noises but it was your only hope of not getting caught.

Hyunjae was pressed against your g-spot as Juyeon had taken it upon himself to settle his tip against your cervix. And, inside of you, their cocks rubbed against each other in an unspoken competition to see who could go deeper.

Of course, Juyeon would win that category but that didn’t matter to Hyunjae.

Both watched their bulges in your stomach as one pulled out and pushed back in. Then, they started alternating until you were so stretched out that they could move together in perfect unison.

The sounds of skin slapping filled the room as they fucked you raw, sharing you in the most perfect way. Everything felt so good that you could already feel the knot forming in your stomach, begging to be released and coat their cocks in your cum.

“You like it, hm? Does it feel good?”, Juyeon teased as he watched your eyes roll back and your nails dig into the wood beneath you. You nodded but your love didn’t like that. He gripped your throat, squeezing it slightly right where he needed to.

The blissful feeling only became more unbearable as you felt some oxygen escape your throat. Tears spilled down your cheeks before he let go, allowing you to breathe.

“Yes! Fuck, I love it!”, the boys leaned down to suck marks all over your breasts, stomach, and hips. Still easy to hide but you knew that wasn’t going to last long.

Their hips snapped against your core as they moved, Hyunjae’s pelvis bone rubbing against your clit perfectly. It made your mouth hang open in a tiny scream and you couldn’t hold it anymore, squirting all over the two as you came.

You had never done that and you were scared that they would hate it but the bright smiles on their faces made you relax. It made you feel good and that’s all that mattered to them.

As the thrusts continued, you squirmed from the overstimulation and Juyeon had to pin you down by your wrists to keep you from falling off the desk.

Their movements became more sloppy and they came together, filling up your clenching cunt with their cum. You felt way too full with all of it and their cocks still inside of you, tapping Juyeon’s arm in a silent plea.

He understood and nodded at Hyunjae, the both of them pulling out to milk the rest of their orgasm’s on whatever they could find. Your thighs, clit, stomach, chest, arms, etc. You looked like the filthiest thing they’ve ever seen and they couldn’t be more proud.

Juyeon put his clothes back on and went out to grab a towel from the locker room as Hyunjae just stared at the cum spilling out of you and down the side of the unfortunate wooden desk.

He seemed to be deep in thought as you tried to breathe correctly, his finger entering your hole without warning and you looked down to see him pull it out. He looked you dead in the eye as he licked off the mixture of cream, humming happily when he found out he loved the taste.

“We taste delicious together”, he leaned down and held your ankles as he started to lap at the cum dripping out of you, eating it up like it was a five star meal. You shivered from the feeling of his warm muscle meeting your cold skin as he licked you clean, licking his lips every time he came up for air.

“How in the world am I going to write an article when that is in my head?”, you motioned to the sight of the cum dripping down his chin. His lips were swollen and his brown locks stuck to his forehead from the sweat. He looked ravishing.

“Smut”, he popped the m for emphasis and you shook your head, letting him kiss you so you could taste it too. It tasted like the best mixture of fruit and you found yourself diving your tongue in his mouth for more.

“Oh yeah, we definitely have to stay together if this is how good we taste”, you giggled and Juyeon had entered just in time to get a taste too. He kissed you, swirling his tongue inside of your mouth before he pulled away. He licked his lips and acted as if he was critiquing a meal.

“I’d have to give my thanks to the chef”, he joked and you smiled, letting out a little chuckle as you tried to sit up but your legs were not having it and neither were your boyfriends.

They rubbed your thighs as you laid back down, trying to ease the soreness in them. Juyeon kissed your hand lovingly and your heart swelled from all the love you felt for the two.

You had no doubt that they were really the ones you were going to spend your life with.

“Looks like the school newspaper is going to have to wait. Unless you feel like writing on a cum stained desk”, Hyunjae chuckled and you huffed, knowing that that paper was definitely not going to be done by its due date.

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some-random-loki-stan · 3 years

Text

The Man Needs His Cat

Bucky x fem!reader

Word count: 1,960

Warnings: mentions of animal death, fluff, Tony/Bucky interaction

Summary: Bucky and Reader stumble across a kitten in the woods and Reader is tasked with asking Tony for a huge favor.

A/N: y'all- I'm head over heels in love with catperson!Bucky

The situation had to be dealt with carefully, (Y/n) knew. She didn't want to come on too strong or he'd be quick to turn her down. Maybe a hypothetical would be the best course of action... She took a breath and pulled her shoulders back. Then, with only a second of hesitation, she entered Tony's lab.

He greeted her from his hunched over position at one of the many cluttered tables, barely sparing her a glance. In the heat of engineering, he worked on some odd piece of tech he had yet to fully present to the team. She echoed a small 'hello' back and rocked awkwardly back and forth on her feet.

Still not looking up, Tony indulged the girl with idle conversation. They spoke of their day, of current world news, of the weather. That's how he knew she wanted something. The girl would always engage him in casual conversation just before asking a favor. Tony didn't mind much, of course. If anything, he found it entertaining how intently she tried buttering him up. But today he had quite a bit of work to get done so he wanted to get this show on the road.

Putting his tools down, he looked at her pointedly with a knowing grin. "Alright kid, what's up?" He asked.

(Y/s)'s eyebrows raised in question, playing dumb. "What do you-"

"Drop the act, (Y/n)," he chuckled, and grabbed an already greasy rag off the desk next to him to wipe his hands. He stood and made his way to her, tossing the rag back on one of the several tables in the lab. "I know when you want something, so just go on. Ask." He said, his face light with a smirk.

(Y/n) flushed with warmth, embarrassed by his boldness. But she continued anyway, determined to fulfill her promise to Bucky.

The night before, she and Bucky were on their way home from the movies. It was a beautiful night out and in their comfortable silence, they found themselves on a slight detour through the woods. At some point, Bucky had pulled over off the side of the road and onto a look out.

Bucky, ever the silent communicator, simply stared at (Y/s) confused face with the softest smile on his own, before stepping out of the car. While (Y/n) scrambled to open her door, Bucky walked the couple of feet towards a barrier fence overlooking the river beneath him. His eyes followed the shine of the water as it drowned the boulders lining the river bed. He thought for a second how exciting the challenge of rock hopping sounded, never really having gotten the chance to as a child.

The call of an owl pulled his attention to the tree line which he observed with such intensity that (Y/n) nudging his arm made him tense. She flashed him a smile to calm the surprise on his face and in an instant, his arm was around her, pulling her close. They both looked out at the shadowed woods and (Y/n) was even sure to point out the moon and stars themselves.

In the silent moments that passed, they both had turned to embrace each other wholly. They stayed like that for a moment and then Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead. Pulling back to look at his warm, loving face, she found acute concern instead. He was glancing just past her head, off into the bush leading down to the river bank.

"What's the mat-" she asked quietly, shrinking away.

Bucky pressed his fingers to his lips and hushed her quickly and gently and then slowly gestured to his ear. Listen, he was telling her.

She didn't hear anything at first. Nothing but the rush of the river below them and the gentle night breeze above them.

But then, just as she was about to ask again, she heard it. The faintest of mewling. Barely audible but definitely there.

Bucky grasped her shoulders and looked her in the eyes once more before he squeezed them tightly and moved past her. He approached the thicket and hesitated for only a second before pressing forward. The branches hurt his skin but he'd suffered worse.

(Y/n) tentatively called his name to which he responded "I've almost got it." His voice sounded distant and strained and it worried (Y/n) that she could no longer see him through the darkness, being so close to the river and all. But as long as she could hear his grunts of discomfort from the branches whacking him in the face, she remained calm enough.

Eventually, he emerged. Even in the dark, (Y/n) could see the pure white fluff sticking out between Bucky's fingers. As he approached, the fuzz ball revealed its face from its careful hiding spot in the crook of Bucky's arm and glanced around. Two dark eyes and the palest little nose swung in her direction, its whiskers twitching with cautious curiosity.

A kitten.

The poor thing was trembling but so was Bucky. Placing a hand on his forearm, she beckoned his attention and spoke low.

"What was it?"

To bide his time, he shifted the kit closer to his chest and took a deep breath. He didn't meet her eyes but he mumbled just loud enough to hear.

"A whole box of them but…." He didn't dare finish the sentence and instead held the kitten in front of his face, ignoring the unwarranted feeling of loss he felt for its siblings. Swallowing hard, he finally met the girls soft, understanding eyes and smiled sadly.

Before she could say anything, the small creature let out another indignant mewl that seemed to reassure Bucky just a bit. With that, (Y/n) moved to his side and slung her arm around his waist.

"Alpine," he mumbled.

"What's that?"

"I think I'll call him Alpine." Bucky said fondly. His eyes never left the baby and the girl knew he was in deep.

"Oooh, I know that look." She tittered. Bucky only stared, his eyebrow creased, questioning. "That's the way you look at someone you love. That's the way you look at me." She said with a blush, nudging him lightly.

His face melted into that soft loving one she cared for so dearly. The kitten settled into the warmth that embraced him as the couple kissed.

"Let's get a move on. It's getting colder and colder by the second and I'm sure this little guy agrees." The kitten mewled one last time.

With a light chuckle, they spared one last glance over the look out before returning to the car where Alpine slept peacefully in Bucky’s lap the whole way home.

The two couldn't help but discuss what they were going to do with little Alpine. Bucky was set on keeping it and had even decided to clear his schedule the next day to make a vet visit. The only issue was their living space. They weren't too sure how Tony would react to them bringing a cat in off the street. But the girl could see how much the kitten meant to Bucky already so she promised to talk to Tony in the morning.

Well, morning came and now here she was.

Tony crossed his arms impatiently. "Well?" He pressed, tilting his head up.

(Y/n) anxiously grasped her hands in front of her and leaned forward a bit. "What would you say to the idea of us getting a pet?" She stared openly at his face as he stared back at hers. The question bounced around in Tony's head, leaving his eyebrow slightly creased and the room painfully quiet. (Y/s)' nervously raised eyebrow gave him a clue into the situation.

"Right….and who exactly is this 'us' you're referring to? Cause something tells me I'm actually being iced out of this decision." Before she could even get a full breath in, he continued on. "All right, what are we working with, huh? A rabbit? A goldfish? If it's a parakeet, it won't even get past the front door, so help me god."

The girl shook her head as she let out a laugh. She could tell he wasn't overly fond of the idea. It was clear by the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. But judging by the way his voice didn't fall completely flat, he wasn't opposed to it either….not entirely, anyway.

"No, no. Not quite. It's a cat. A kitten, actually, so there's still time to train it and all," She reassured him. "And Bucky should be getting home any minute from the vet with him if you'd like to say hello."

Tony caught himself before he let his expression drop at the name of the elusive ex soldier. He'd gotten better at watching himself since the two of them moved in. Bucky and (Y/n) weren't together when they did, but being only a few steps down the hallway certainly allowed them a closer relationship.

Tony nodded his head reluctantly and dropped his arms to his sides.

He followed the girl down the various halls as she recounted how they found the poor kit, and found themselves approaching the common room. Or the family room, as (Y/n) preferred to call it, while simultaneously prattling on about how much time and energy the team wastes pretending to hate each other. Huh.

They could hear the tinkling of a bell being wacked around from down the hallway. As they entered the room, they stopped in the archway and took in the sight before them.

Bucky sat crisscrossed with his back to them. In his hand was a feather wand, standing out bright purple, blue, and white against the dark brown floor. In front of him, white fluff darted back and forth. There was the smallest sound of tearing as its tiny claws ripped against the carpet, no doubt leaving it frayed.

Tony tried his very best to suppress his dissatisfied grumble...

They watched for a bit as Bucky went back and forth with the kitten. Tony didn't have to look hard at all to see how much the ex soldier cared for the tiny thing. No only because of his undivided attention towards the cat but also because of the many beige bags labeled "PetsPlus+" full of toys, treats and towers scattered around the sofas.

He thought it might be good for Bucky to have another companion around. Maybe it would help him relax. Maybe even lighten up a bit.

Tony stepped forward.

"So, uh, I'm not a big fan of funky smells so that's got to be top priority as far as pest control goes with this thing, alright?"

Bucky jumped to his feet and Alpine followed suit, hackles raised. Bucky quickly scooped him up and held him close. "Of course." (Y/n) made her way over to them. "Our rooms are big enough to keep him there most of the time and we have already worked out all the responsibilities between us. We've got it covered."

Tony stepped back a bit looking them up and down, humming. "I expect weekly visits in the family room," he said pointedly, then waved his hand. "Keep it tidy, folks." And with that he left the couple to their new fascination.

Tony lingered at the doorway on the way out. While the couple was distracted, he found himself watching that wretched arm. The dark, intimidating metal turned soft and gentle as it reached out fearlessly to antagonize the tiniest, weakest thing in the room. No hesitation, no fear. Not in Bucky or the kitten. Tony knew then that it stayed, no question.

The man needed his cat. And damn it, he'll get it.

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years

Text

A gentlecat.

Summary: A black cat comforts you when you need it the most. Your new friend is quite peculiar for an animal. It's almost like they could understand you.

Pairing: Loki x gender neutral reader (it's not actually a "pairing", you can see it as a friendship, or something platonic).

Word count: 2K.

Warnings: anxiety, sadness.

Disclaimer: picture not mine.

You used to frequent the roof of the compound everytime you were melancholic.

Or everytime you had too many feelings to process and needed time alone. Or anytime you felt too empty and needed to refill on sentiments and life by staring at the moon and remembering how much it means to exist in this world. Or too overwhelmed, and needed to be reminded of how little it all matters, how few are the things that are actually important.

No matter the motive, the roof and the moon were always there with you.

The wind blew on your face, almost like a whisper, almost like a caress. The same wind that blew on a crying child, or a couple of teenagers kissing for the first time, or an old man remembering with gratitude the love of his life. Or a lost young who, just like you, was looking at the moon searching for a meaning. An answer. Why all of this? Why to you? Why to everyone and why everything at the same time?

You inhaled a deep breath as you laid your back against the floor of the terrace, and the only thing you got to see were the few starts pollution would let you, and the gigantic moon smiling at you.

A noise startled you, and you were sitting back up again in no time. Being an avenger made you a little more paranoid than you expected. But you didn't say anything. You looked around nervously and waited for the sound to reappear. And it did.

"Who's there?".

No answer. You heart was pounding, but you didn't let your voice break. A hand flew right to the knife in your thigh, waiting for the danger to appear.

The noise came out of the shadows. A black cat approached you precatiously, almost as if they knew you were a threat. You put your guard down and finally sighed.

"God, little thing, you scared me", you whispered as you put a hand near them to let them smell you and be familiar with you. The cat didn't do so, instead, they sat by your side and rested their head on your hand. "Well, you certainly trust easier than me".

The cat meowed answering you, and you felt a connection to them. You loved animals, but this one was different. It was almost like they could understand your words. You moved your thumb slowly, petting their head. The cat let you, staring at you with intensity. Blueish green eyes that you felt like you knew from somewhere else.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, and you felt stupid. What life choices had lead you to the point of talking to a black cat on a roof, while everyone else was partying? The cat meowed back again. You chuckled. "So you understand what I say? I'll keep talking, then. Just don't think I'm too crazy". The cat purrowed in your hand, and you took it as a yes.

"I just... I don't like these parties, you know? I don't feel well when there's too many people around me, and all the noise... you'd understand, I think cats are sort of like that, right?". The cat meowed again. You smiled. "I appreciate being here, I really do. But the whole Avengers show we should put up... I don't buy it. We know damn well we're not what we pretend to be". You ranted, and realized immediately after you should've been looking around first. If anyone actually heard you, you'd be in big trouble. You went back to a whisper "but that's our little secret".

The cat slowly walked nearer you and looked at you before sitting in your lap, as to look for approval. You nodded and caressed the fur as they did so.

"Do you have a name?" You asked, looking for a collar. "Weird. A cat so well taken care of like you should have an owner". The cat hissed and you laughed "alright, not an owner. You don't like the expression, I get it. A human partner, maybe?". The cat stared at you again. You wished they could talk, but it was probably better off like that. Maybe you liked animals because they couldn't talk.

"So you're from the streets?".

The cat looked inside the compound and then looked back at you again. You interpreted as if they was asking you why wouldn't you go back. "I can't go in there, I got too anxious and said I was sick". You swear you saw the cat roll their eyes.

"Why are you here?". And you immediately laughed "oh, God. I'm asking questions to a cat. What am I waiting for? An answer? You probably just want food. Wait here, I'm gonna get you some. I'll steal some of Bucky's. He has a cat, too".

You sneaked through the party and nobody noticed you passed by. Once you were back, the cat wasn't there anymore. You left the food in a cup of tea on the floor, just in case they came back, and went back to the compound.

The next time you were on the roof, you weren't running away from any party. It was that same week that you felt increasingly anxious out of nowhere, in the middle of a dinner. After a while you went back to bed and you overheard the asgardian brothers discuss something in a low voice outside your room. Thor wanted to walk in and make sure you were fine; his brother told him he knew you needed space, so you were better off left alone. You wondered how he knew that, and then realized he was like that too.

You basically never spoke to him, but you always shared your silences. Everyone in the Stark Tower was so... enthusiastic. Outgoing. You and Loki enjoyed the silence of the nights over a good book and a warm drink. You barely spoke to each other. You were various meters away, in different parts of the common room (that one with the big couches and old books Mr. Stark set up for the introverts of the group, ahem, you two and ocassionally little Peter Parker). But you were there, always sharing that loneliness you craved in such crazy times.

After a while, you crawled out of bed and rested your arms in the window. You realized there was someone waiting for you in there.

"Hello, friend".

The cat purrowed in your hand. They had a protein bar in their mouth, as to give it to you. You frowned in confusion.

"You know, whatever you are, you don't pretend to be a cat very well". The cat opened their eyes widely, and you laughed. "But thank you. I don't know how you knew I didn't have dinner, but I appreciate this very much".

You opened your window so that they could come in, but they didn't. They looked inside, but stayed in there, as to care for your privacy. "It's fine, you can come in". The cat stayed out, anyways. "I think I'm gonna do some reading. If you care to join me, you're invited".

You and the black cat stayed up all night on the balcony of your room. You read in silence and the cat rested on your lap, purring and staring at you with those big, intense eyes. The night wasn't cold, but refreshing. Windy, before the big rainstorm that would have place next day. You loved that weather.

It wasn't the only occasion you stayed all night with the company of the black cat. Once they already felt comfortable enough to get in your room, you'd both lay in bed, and the cat would curl around your neck, using your shoulders as a mattress.

One dark and rainy afternoon you were on the roof, and the cat was with you, laying on the floor, watching the stars and the moon, just like you. You overheard some of the Avengers talking about you. Clint's voice commenting on how you basically adopted a stray, and Tony laughing. Thor corrected them you befriended a cat, and you chuckled at the offense he took from the word "adopted".

"Don't worry, I befriended you. You seem to be good by yourself", you clarified. The cat meowed.

It got dark and you stayed in the floor until the last light on the compound was turned off. The cat seemed to be curious as why you stayed for so long.

"I want to go to the common room, I haven't been there in a few weeks", you commented. "Best time of the day is when almost everyone's asleep".

At some point of the night you got up and walked through the compound to get to the kitchen. The cat followed your steps, and you swore they knew the way.

You poured some warm milk in a cup for the cat and they waited for you to have your coffee in hand to start sipping. You both sat on the couch of the common room.

"Such a polite gentle...cat", you whispered. "You know, it's so weird this is empty right now. At this time there's someone else reading here". The cat looked at you and you didn't understand what they meant. "I think he would like you. You have sort of the same energy, maybe that's why I even befriended you. Someday, if you let me, I'll introduce you two". The cat nodded weirdly.

You spilled some coffee on your shirt and cursed to yourself. The cat went to the counter and grabbed a napkin for you. At that point, they didn't even pretend to act like a cat at all.

"Ah, thank you". As you cleaned yourself, the cat looked at the book you were reading. It was in old norse. The cat looked at you with interrogative eyes. "Ah, that's... stupid, actually. I'm a little embarrassed I'm even doing that". The cat sat infront of you, and you felt like it was a way to ask you for more. You felt free to elaborate.

"This man... well, not a man. There's someone in this compound I never speak to, yet I still feel very connected to, you know? And everytime we're reading together, he reads these very dusty and heavy books in old norse. I didn't know that language, of course. But I was always curious to see what he read. You know, he can spend all night up reading those pages; he's so concentrated he doesn't notice his expressions. But they're great. He smiles, and frowns, and sighs. And I don't think he's aware of that, but I find it so beautiful", you explained. The cat kept looking at you with their eyes wide open. You sighed and continued. "Anyways. I just... I wanted to see a bit more of him. I'm too... shy, I guess? To actually talk to him. In fact, I feel a little intimidated, he's tall, and has some darkness in his eyes, and... well, he's a God. But I'd... I don't know. I learnt old norse and I started reading these books. And I feel like I understand him a little more. Even a little".

The cat looked down a bit and made themself a ball of fur in your lap. You kept reading. They rested their head in your arm and stared at the book as you read, as if they were reading it too.

When you woke up, you were in that same couch. The cat was nowhere to be found. You had a blanket over you, the book was closed over the coffee table, and your shoes were off. You felt weirdly safe. Anonymously taken care of.

You heard noises in the room next door -the kitchen-, and you peeped in. The God of Mischief was in there, making two cups of coffee. He turned around as he heard you walk in, and handed you one cup.

"Góðan morgin", he said. It meant good morning. You swear you saw a little smile forming in the corners of his mouth.

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Madeira. ( Taehyung x OC) Part 1/2

Genre : Angst, Sexually Explicit Content.

Kim Taehyung x OC

Cop Au!

Married Taehyung x Oc! ( Estranged )

Cop Taehyung! Bartender Oc !

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N : This is my spin on the brother’s best friend trope. I wrote this for @ladyartemesia Who made the amazing banner for the fic..

Because of one of her posts :D :D But I hope all of you enjoy it.

Also listen , i was supposed to write a simple brother’s best friend fic , maybe playful fluff and mild angst and some smut but this thing snowballed into a plot monster and now here we are.

This is part 1.

Part 2 soon :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So... that husband of yours is still missing, huh?" The man leaning against the bar smelled like sewage.

There really was no other word for it.

He smelled like he’d been drenched in the water that usually ran down the streets, whenever the heavens opened and poured a fucking deluge on us. Like he’d taken a soak in the disgusting broth of decaying produce, discarded animal entrails and everyday garbage. You know, the kind of stuff you find in the market street of a small town.

I ignored him, exhaling sharply and dragging the rag across the counter again, this time with a little more force behind it to make up for the urge to wrap my hands around the fucker’s neck.

Not the man leaning on the bar that is.

The man who had abandoned me.

Kim fucking Taehyung.

My breath shuddered out of me , a headache blooming inside my skull at the very thought of him. it was kind of unwarranted, I guess because it really wasn’t perfect Kim Taehyung’s fault that his wife of five years and seven months hadn’t seen him in ...well, five years and six months.

Fuck.

But see he wasn’t missing from my life by design.

He certainly hadn’t intended to leave me alone because , well for one, he loved me. and two, his best friend aka my big brother Park Jimin would skin him alive if he tried something like that.

They were best friends, bosom buddies since kinder garten and the only time they’d ever fought was when Jimin had walked in on me choking on Kim Taehyung’s dick in our coat closet at the age of seventeen ( 19 in Taehyung’s case) .

Taehyung had sported a black eye for two whole weeks.

So you see, Taehyung wouldn’t just leave me without reason, not unless he wanted to be castrated by my brother.

No.

The reason Kim Taehyung wasn’t around was because he had taken up an assignment, an undercover assignment a month after our wedding.

An assignment that was supposed to last two months. Except it hadn’t and now, it had been a whole five and a half years since I’d seen the man I loved.

Kim fucking Taehyung.

See, Taehyung was a detective.

A brilliant, A- class detective in Seoul PD’s Narcotics Division and he had a reputation.

A reputation as one of the most ruthless, merciless men on the force.

Taehyung had a mind that worked like no other, somehow able to predict exactly how drug dealers moved, how the shipments were going to be smuggled. He could tell where the deal was going to go down, what kind of security measures they would be up against and the most intriguing of all : just what drug a person had taken, simply from staring into their damn eyes .

It wasn’t uncommon for his cop buddies to comment how lucky the country was, that Kim Taehyung had chosen to be on this side of the law .

So Kim Taehyung’s reputation as a brilliant detective was well earned and that was why, when people heard his reputation and then met him, they were always stunned.

Because, for someone with such a terrifying aura , Taehyung looked deceptively.....well ethereal was the word. Beautiful was another. So fucking gorgeous he could make angels cry.

But Taehyung didn’t just look like a fucking angel. He acted like one. He acted like he had been sent on earth, simply to fight every bad guy in the city and while I had been proud and amazed and suitably enthralled with his prowess in the beginning, the fact that he had chosen to just leave me , really fucking hurt.

It hurt that the boy i had grown up with , the boy who had been my first everything hadn’t thought twice about leaving me behind. About leaving everything we had spent a whole decade building , behind just because he couldn’t control the urge to save the fucking world.

Every damn time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water in my parents’ home was often murky and I had to let it run for a few minutes, before sticking the bucket underneath the tap. I watched the water turn clearer, cupping my palms underneath the flow watching it run clear. I nudged the bucket with my foot , under the tap and the sound of the water hitting the cheap plastic filled the cramped bathroom, loud and jarring.

I leaned against the chipped blue tiles, fingers shaking as I clenched them into fists. I had moved year about nine months after Taehyung had left, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to be coming back anytime soon and it became hard, paying the rent for our modest apartment in Itaewon.

Jimin had offered to help, offered to let me move in with him and his wife Irene, but he had been newly married as well, with a baby on the way. And i just couldn’t do that to him. I’d called my parents, explained that Taehyung and I were taking a break and could I move in for a while?

My parents had been stunned.

A break after ten months of marriage? what had happened?

I’d kept my mouth shut because everything was a security risk. I couldn’t say anything. Couldn’t cry or complain or seek comfort in my mother’s gentle words. Instead i’d spent the days, locked up in my childhood bedroom, pouring over my journals, my keepsakes and photos, reliving the years I’d spent, loving and learning and cherishing Taehyung.

First kiss in his garage at the age of fifteen , laughing over a failed skateboard trick. How he’d grinned at me, watching me whine over the scrape on my knee, how he’d stared up at me through the sweat damp bangs on his forehead as he’d knelt on the floor, sticking a bandaid over the scrape and then instead of moving away as usual, he mad moved in, brushed his lips against mine, stole the breath out of my lung , the soul out of my body .

And Those first two years of denial....when he would practically run out of the door if i so much as breathed in his direction.

“You’re Jimin’s sister.. I can’t...”

God often he’d said that...over and over again until the words lost all meaning for me. I had wanted him so blindly. Had fought any girl who so much as looked at him and every one of my girlfriends knew to stay clear off Kim Taehyung.

The whispers, anytime someone showed an interest on the most handsome boy in school.

Yes, he is gorgeous, yes he is smart and amazing but he belongs to her. She’ll kill you if you come near him.

I’d enjoyed it. I enjoyed knowing that everyone could see that he belonged with me, even if Taehyung himself didn’t .

And me at seventeen, watching him talk about leaving .... How he was going to join the police academy and become a cop and that had been the final straw. I’d all but barrelled into his home and kissed him.

Told him in no uncertain terms that he was not going anywhere without telling me he loved me. And if he didn’t , I wanted him to swear he would never regret it. That when , years from now, he saw me walking down the aisle with some other guy, he would stand in the wedding party, next to my actual brother and not regret that he let me go.

Taehyung had kissed me back with fervor that still made my lips tingle.

And that last week before he left, when we had spent all our waking hours, either having sex or thinking about having sex. How we’d christened every surface of our parents’ house , our rooms and finally the coat closet after one particularly tense game of truth and dare.

That was a memorable one because my brother had walked in, just as Taehyung had gripped my hair hard enough to bruise and shoved his ‘ big by any standards’ dick straight down my throat.

Talk about embarrassing.

And it had taken a whole lot of begging and cajoling and promises to not have sex till we were married, for my brother to come around.

But he had.

And for five glorious years, I had been Kim Taehyung’s girlfriend. Watched him climb the ranks at seoul PD with a speed that was amazing. Watching him become the youngest detective on the force... watched him carve a reputation for himself in the Narcotic department.

And one evening, having dinner in a posh restaurant with our family and friends, I had watched him get down on his knees , a small velvet box in his hand eyes practically sparkling with love as he stared at me.

“The only one you’re walking down the aisle with is me, sweetheart.” He had rasped, over the raucous cheering of all the most important people in our lives.

But the joy had been short lived.

Just a month after our wedding Taehyung had taken up the assignment. Just two months, he had promised. I’ll be back in two months baby. I love you so damn much, you know that....

I had said it was okay. it wasn’t but i had said. Had promised to wait for him. To keep myself safe.

Two months had turned to two years. Two years had turned to three. Three to four and four to five.

Lonely. I was so lonely.

Even living with my parents, the solitude had been unbearable. The ache from not being touched by him . The ache from not being able to touch him. From not having that boxy smile to greet me in the morning. Not running my fingers through his hair as he left hickeys all over me. Not having him over me, staring down at me, eyes heavy and hard as he fucked into me.

I missed him so fiercely it was a physical ache. An intense , hollow ache filled with anxiety and longing.

And terror.

Oh god I was so terrified.

The fear was all encompassing somedays and I had to bite down on my pillows just to stop myself from giving in to hysteria. To start sobbing, uncontrollably because the thought would come out of nowhere, bowling me over in it’s intensity.

The burning fear that perhaps he was hurt.

That perhaps he was no longer of this world and i would never even know. That perhaps right this moment he was lying in some abandoned warehouse, bleeding out , thinking of me, wishing he could see me and he was just going to die alone . And I would never know.

I spoke to Jimin on the phone to Jimin every weekend. But sometimes, once every three or four weeks, Jimin called in the day.

We would exchange small talk.

And then he would say,

“Had a glass of madeira last night.” “ spoke to Taehyung’s handler last night.

I would grip the phone hard, brace myself for the good , the bad or the ugly that was to come.

“Tasted great. Was thinking of you.” He’s fine. He misses you. He loves you.

“Okay. Thank you Jimin.”

And that was that.

The sound of the water spilling over drew me to the present and i blinked, staring down at the water flooding the bathroom, the drainhole struggling to get rid of the excess water.

The house was deserted.

My parents had died a year ago. And now it was just me.

I swallowed , shaking my head before grabbing the hem of my dress and stripping.

Shower.

And then bed.

Alone.

Always so fucking alone.

The phone rang then and i groaned.

God, I hated having to leave the shower to attend calls but the reception here was terrible and I could only get calls if I left the phone on the small table by the bed.

Grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my torso, I stumbled out into the dimply lit bedroom, reaching for my phone.

I couldn’t recognize the number and I frowned, before accepting the call.

“Hello?”

“Yerin?”

Every hair on my body stood on end and my body curned hot and then went icy cold really really fast.

“T-T-Tae??” I whispered, gripping the phone so hard my fingers went number.

Five years later and his voice was so different. Deep and raspy and exhausted and I couldn’t make sense of it. Was this real? Was i having a fever dream? Had i fell in the shower and hit my head?

“Hey baby.” He chuckled.

“Is this real? Is it you?” I whispered, confused and my head spinning and my vision fading a little.

“Yeah. “ He coughed a bit and i panicked. “ I’m back. “

I froze.

“Wh-What?”

“I’m back. I’m home. I’m .... I’m back.”

I stared at the wall, too stunned to process what I was hearing.

I could hear his voice through the phone but I couldn’t respond.

Staring at the screen , I hung up.

And then, I finally gave in to the hysterics.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#taehyung fics #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfics #bts smut #ts fanfic #bts fics

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demigoddessqueens · 3 years

Text

Who Could Learn to Love A Beast?

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30709340

Tags: 18+, smut

You lifted your head from sharpening your weapon, distracted by the stead’s aggravated roar. That could only mean one thing. Your partner, in command and in affection, was returning after an unsuccessful search. Well, he’ll be in a mood.

The leader, and your lover, Seraphim angrily lumbered into the cave you two had begun to share, throwing his bident across the stone floor. He sat down on the makeshift thrown he created with an annoyed huff. Your voice seemed to alert him out of his soured mood.

“What happened? An unsuccessful raid?” He quickly glanced to acknowledge you before turning away with a huff. Sighing, you made your way over to the brooding demon. “You know you can talk to me, Sera. It doesn’t have to be suffering in silence. He let out one last huff before divulging into his worries.

“I just learned of two important events that denied me of a life, but I will not burden you with them.” You cupped his face in your hands and bore into his gaze. “You know you can talk to me, right? These aren’t burdens you have to carry on your own.”

That’s when he looked at you, truly looked at you. He saw no ill will or malicious intent in your eyes. You, a human who was an outcast like him and one he begrudgingly took in. He didn’t know why back then, but now he was glad he took you in. From stranger to friend to confidant, he appreciated you greatly and then some.

He took your hands into his and noted the difference. Such small ones that he cradled and treasured. You could tell he tried to conceal whatever was a bother to him. “I will, but for now i will not cast them onto you.” You decided not to push on any further but just be present for him. The demon lifted his head to hold your gaze again, but acted on what was driving him.

Seraphim’s clawed hands brushed over your shoulder. He pressed his lips to your neck, with an arm around your waist and the other that wrapped around your neck and hair. The demon leader wanted to make his intentions and feelings clear. You could feel him beginning to remove your clothes, nail and claw raking down your soft skin.

Returning the favor, you began to remove the fur and girdle that wrapped around his body and waist. Running your hands over his toned and chiseled body, admiring every inch of him. He titled his head slightly away from your gaze, trying to conceal the faint flush on his cheeks.

He continued to press kisses along your collarbones and shoulders as the final pieces of each other’s clothes fall away. Both of you are bare before each other, in all your vulnerability and letting your walls down. You move to straddle him, hands threaded in his snowy white locks, as his kisses become more desperate.

You moan as Seraphim begins to graze his canines against your supple flesh, hands tightly gripping your hips and waist. You feel his ever growing hardness pressed against your as you begin to grind against him, growling moans emitting from him. He shifts to where his cock teases your wet folds feeling slick on your thighs.

He wants this, to just surrender himself to something and someone. Just to be in a place where he feels comforted for once, and not subject to the harsh realities of his wretched life. Not being a slave to Hera or to his desire for revenge. And you give him that. You can feel him growl against your neck as he gently knicks you with his fangs. Seraphim begins to move his hips in time with yours, wanting to feel the friction between you. He’s still not so used to human touch and just wants to indulge in the moments he has with you.

You move your neck away from his teeth for a moment, only to return his own kisses to his lips. You can hear a faint moan mixed with his low growls. Gently cupping Seraphim’s face in your hands, you gaze into his eyes. “Make love to me. Give in and be with me.” Your hand moves from the sides of his face, grazing down his chest, down to his member where you begin to gently stroke and pump his twitching cock. He gasps sharply, and only offers a quick nod of acknowledgement.

You place your hands on his toned chest and guide him to lay down on the bed of furs beneath you both. You can feel his cock twitch beneath you in anticipation, the coil of desire ever growing within your core. Seraphim lets out on last plea, the desperation still tinged on his words. His clawed hands gently knead at your breasts, so soft and supple under his touch.

You look down at him affectionately only to be met with his intense gaze. Despite what the others have called him, demon or beast, you don’t deny the feelings of a man that lie beneath this exterior. Gently guiding his cock towards your entrance, you slowly lower yourself down onto him. You both gasp at your union together, his harsh gasp of pleasure such a reassuring sound to you.

You begin to slowly rock back and forth, admiring the delicious looks that form on his face. The cave soon fills with the sounds of your moans and groans. You grip tightly at his chest and shoulders as you being to slightly pick up the speed of your hips, bouncing up and down. You try to stifle the moans that escape you but to no avail. His growling ones mix with yours into a song of desire and passion.

You look at him while riding him. Fangs and hair that are caught in the light of the fire, his blue skin turning darker with the flush that covers his body. “You’re so beautiful... a vision that none...can...compare”, you moan as you thrust faster. Seraphim cries out at the pleasure you give him. “My love ...”, he chokes out between a growl and moan.

His grip on your breasts and waist slightly tighten as you clench your walls. You stare deep into those eyes, as you laud more praise. “ My love, my protector, my king.. .” He can feel his heart race at your words, and they only spur him on. “Yes, L ove me..be with me. .”, he softly moans in a tone of desperation.

You stare into each other’s eyes, admiring the gentle loving looks you shared. You stare deeply into his eyes before leaning forward and pressing a searing kiss to his lips, so much so it takes him by surprise. Kissing wasn’t something frequent between you two, not that Seraphim didn’t appreciate them, but the suddenness of your actions sends all of his blood down south.

His thrusts become more erratic as he pulls you close to him to where your foreheads press against each other’s. The demon returns your kiss, probably more so than he intended as you both whisper an “I love you” to each other. It’s not long until you both chase your orgasms, seconds within each other. For the briefest moment, you feel weightless and collapse against the demon’s chest, breathing heavily.

It wasn’t much of a rest before you both feel his cock stirring again, and you find yourself beneath the sculpted body of this rugged demon. Damn that supernatural stamina. His thrusts start off slow before he picks up the pace. The slap of your skin and breasts against him is a sound Seraphim will never tire of. He grips at the cave floor, not wanting to hurt you, while you hold tightly against him. Rutting like an animal, the overstimulation sends shivers down your body.

It’s not long until his hips shake and quiver, and he soon cums with a moan that purges all the emotions he’s held inside. A sonorous sound filled with lust and brokenness. As Seraphim comes down from his high, he falls to his side as the ragged breaths escape his chest. He soon pulls you close to him, where his heart was.

The intimacy and sound of his heartbeats soothe you in your aftercare. You feel safe in his arms, listening to his heartbeat and....was that a purr rumbling from his chest? So there was a gentleness under all that ferocity.

As Seraphim held you there in his arms, he felt himself suddenly overcome with fear. He knew he had affections for you, but now...it felt different. All consuming. Persevering. Determined. He was in love. In love with you. And that scared him.

Love was something that never came easy to this demon. For as long as he knew, because of the gods and the folly of man, he never knew true friendship or the love of his mother. And he never will. Yet he couldn’t deny what he felt for you and that’s why it scared him, because it could be taken or used against him at any moment.

He wanted to tell you about his mother. About Hera and her schemes but a part of him was afraid you would see him different afterwards. But he was also afraid Hera would use you against him, and he couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. He would tell you soon in due time, but for now, he just wanted the solace of you.

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itsallyscorner · 3 years

Note

I don’t know if it’s too much to ask, but when you’re done with all your requests, can you please do a part 2 of getting to know you?❤️

Hello darling!💕 Thank you for the request and I’m so sorry it took me so long; I was waiting for Cherry to come out to write this and I also have time to finally write. I hope you like it!💕 *CHERRY SPOLIERS*

A/n: Hello my loves! I just wanted to say that these kind of fics are the closest I will get to writing for Cherry. I will not be writing about the characters in the story, I will only be writing about the filming process, working with Tom, etc. Now that I mentioned that, I wanted to let you all know that this is going to be a bit more of a happier fic! I see a lot of people writing about the hard parts of filming Cherry so I thought why not have a little fun one? I’m sure they had some laughs on set, I briefly remember Ciara and Tom mentioning it. But yeah that’s all, enjoy the fic! Ally xx

💌.

I’m Really Happy You’re Here

(GIF @thollandgifs )

Tom watched you from a distance. From where he was, he could hear the sound of your bubbly laugh and see that bright smile on your face. Your smile was contagious. The way your eyes crinkled at the ends and how your smile squished into your cheeks was something he’s grown fond of over the past eight weeks. Though the difference from the previous weeks was that your cheeks were fuller and the bleak expressions of Emily did not shadow your face anymore.

The last eight weeks of filming have been rough. Both on you and him, along with the rest of the cast and crew. Having to begin filming with the ‘Dope Life’ section of the movie was not a pleasant way of starting a months long project. He felt drained after every shoot, spending his time on set crying, kicking, and screaming. Not to mention he was also starving himself to enhance the ‘druggy’ look on his features. After those eight weeks they had to transition into the part of Cherry’s life where he’s falling in love with Emily. The transition from being an addict to becoming a lovesick college student was a tricky one for Tom. The sudden switch in the film’s dynamic, made Tom doubt himself. From the intense scenes and screaming to being all loving and sweet, he was self-conscious that he was not doing enough. Though you were quick to debunk his doubts. You kept your promise of being there for him and gave him the freedom to be vulnerable. You didn’t judge him, you listened to him ramble and understood the struggles he was facing. Because of this, you helped him through the transition of druggy to lovesick college student.

It wasn’t hard to act like he was falling in love you. You have been so supportive and patient with him during the previous weeks that he’s grown to adore you. On and off set you made sure he knew you were not only his co-worker but his friend. When he had a rough day, you were there to pick him up. Or that one time when he had a bit of a panic attack and you were instantly by his side to guide him out of it. There were many reasons as to why you are so dear to him, he could have gone on for days listing them. But overall, it was your lovable nature that lured him in since the very beginning he’s met you.

He felt like Cherry in that one scene you guys shot in the classroom. The one where he’s gazing at Emily and admiring her features. Except you didn’t stare back at him, instead you were having a very animated conversation with your makeup artist and one of the stylists. You were dressed in Emily’s clothes, white stockings, a jean skirt, and that cherry pink jacket with flowers embroidered onto it. He thought you looked so adorable and carefree kicking around leaves with your brown ankle boots and playfully swinging your arms around. Tom felt his lips unconsciously twitch upwards at the sight of you.

Harry, who had been eyeing his older brother, nudged him roughly. Tom whips around to look at him, sending him a glare for rudely interrupting his train of thought.

“What?” Tom hissed.

Harry smirked, motioning to you, “(Y/n) looks really pretty today.” Tom distinctly squints an eye at Harry before looking over his shoulder. The glare for his brother softening once you come into view.

“I mean, doesn’t she always? She’s a beautiful woman.”

“And you’re absolutely whipped.” Harry remarked with a smug grin on his face.

“So I can’t call someone beautiful without being absolutely whipped for them now?” Tom retorted crossing his arms. Harry raised his hands up defensively, “You can mate, chill. I’m just saying that because you’re literally staring at her with a stupid love haze in your eyes.”

“No I’m not.” Tom scoffed, hoping to get his brother off his case. Harry stared at him blankly and rolled his eyes, “Whatever, they want you on your mark.”

The filming location was a secluded park located somewhere in Cleveland. The park was set up to appear as a cemetery, gray gravestones were placed on the ground and gothic statues scattered the place. The scene was supposed to be a meaningful one for Cherry and Emily. Emily was going to be telling Cherry about her abusive father and he was going to tell her he loved her.

Tom sat on the grass and leaned against the stone statue where his mark was located. He looked around his surroundings in curiosity. A few feet away from him was the crew, the Russos, and a tent that sheltered the monitors. He breathed in, wallowing in the crisp air of Cleveland’s autumn weather. It was a bit chilly, but not to the point where you were shivering and left with chattering teeth. The vintage looking jacket he was given and the black beanie on his head was enough to keep him warm. His eyes continued to wander around the park, shifting along the trees and studying the clusters of yellow and orange.

“Hey you.” Your gentle voice breaks through the quiet murmurs of nature and the crew surrounding him. Tom’s eyes instantly set themselves upon your figure, their focus on you and only you. The trees and cameras behind you faded in the background. His gaze followed your figure as you moved to sit beside him.

“Hey.” His voice is soft making you hum in response. Being the gentleman he was, Tom held out his hand to help you sit on the ground. You quietly thank him. He watches as you rest your head against the stone and shut your eyes.

“Still sleepy?” He chuckles nudging your shoulder. You giggle along, lazily nodding. Your eyes open again and he’s met with your stunning (eye color) orbs. They were bright and filled with joy even though you were clearly tired.

You turn your head to the side to face him, “I barely got any sleep last night.”

Tom’s brows drew together in concern, “Why didn’t you get any sleep?”

“I may or may not have watched The Nun by myself last night.” You cringed. Tom let out a dramatic gasp, “Darling, why would you do that to yourself?”

“I was bored and I couldn’t find anything else to watch. I thought watching a horror movie would be a good idea, but I was wrong.” You explained, shaking your head at yourself. You breathed out a laugh, remembering how terrified you were the night before.

Tom joined you, also shaking his head. “Why didn’t you ask Harry and I to join? We could’ve watched it for movie night. Then you wouldn’t have to be alone and you’d have two body guards to protect you from the scary nun.” He teased you poking your side. You squeaked and swatted his finger away.

“You guys were going out for dinner. I thought you might want to have some quality time with your brother.” You stifled a yawn, your nose scrunching after, making Tom pout at your sleepy state. He glanced in front of him to see everyone still occupied in side conversations. The Russos were haunched behind the tent discussing things about the scene.

Tom turns back to you and motions to his lap. You give him a questioning look. You glance at his lap, not completely understanding him. Tom followed your stare, realizing that you were probably getting the wrong message.

“Oh! No—I meant that you could sleep on my lap or something. I don’t think we’re gonna start filming for a few more minutes, so I thought you might want to squeeze in a little nap.” He explained, words jumbling together in panic. Your heart swelled at how sweet Tom was.

The two of you were silent, staring at each other before bursting out in laughter. Tom squeezed his eyes shut, fingers holding his temples, “God, I’m sorry, that was embarrassing.”

You chuckled resting your head on his shoulder, “It’s okay, you had good intentions.” When your laughs die down, you look up at him. “Does your offer for the nap still stand? I think I can use it.”

“Of course it does.” Tom shifts so there’s space on his thigh for you to rest your head on. He helps you lay down, fixing your hair so it’s not in your face. He leaves a hand to play with the strands, mesmerized at how luscious it was. He notices that he’s probably invading your space and pulls his hand away, apologizing.

You make a noise of disagreement, pulling his hand back. “It’s ok, feels nice.” You mumble, eyes closing and a content expression on your face. Tom played with your hair; being careful to not tangle any strands or pull on them too hard. He couldn’t help but study your features. To name a few, he took the time to memorize the way your lashes brushed against your cheeks, the shape of your nose, and the curve of your lips. Your lips. They looked remarkably soft and had a tint of pink to them. Tom found his eyes flickering down at your lips the most than your other features.

He was so caught up in admiring you that he didn’t notice the words coming out of his mouth.

“I’m really happy you’re here.”

Your eyes snap open dancing with amusement. A toothy grin forms on your mouth.

“Did you just quote the movie?” You question him, referring to the previous scene you were both shooting a couple of days ago. Tom becomes flustered, the blood rushing to his fair cheeks.

“Yes, shut up.” He muttered, bouncing his thigh, causing your head to loll to the side. You giggle elbowing his stomach. “Well were you practicing your lines? ‘Cause they’re for the wrong scene, Tommy.” You tease him.

Tom playfully rolls his eyes and looks down at you. His hands were still tangled in your hair, the soft strands like silk in between his fingers. “No, I know that—but I’m serious. I’m really happy you’re here with me. I know I’ve told you this so many times but I can’t imagine filming this movie with anyone else. And you’ve been so loyal and trusting, I feel so comfortable with you. You’ve always had my back and I’m really thankful for that. So thank you for—being you.”

You give him a lopsided grin, “You know, you don’t have to always thank me. We made a promise to always have each other’s back. I’m one to keep my word but at the same time you’re my friend, Tom. I’m not being nice to fulfill a promise, I genuinely care about you.” Tom beams while you continue.

“It honestly goes both ways, I should also be thanking you. The beginning of filming was very taxing and somehow you’ve made it bearable for me to come into work not worrying about losing my shit on everyone. So thank you, Tom.” You finish, reaching out to interlock your fingers with his free hand.

Tom sighs happily, “I guess we’re just happy to have each other, huh?”

“Yeah.” You agree, eyes trained on the way his giant hand enveloped yours. A peaceful silence lays upon the both of you. The melody of birds chirping and the sound of Tom’s breathing fill the air as you drift off to sleep.

Bonus:

Tom feels your hand loosen in his grip, your interlocked fingers resting on your stomach. He felt your stomach steadily raising up and down to the pace of your breathing. His hands remained where they were; one playing with your hair and the other holding one of your hands.

Joe approaches the both of you, gesturing to the position you and Tom were in. Though you were unaware, napping on Tom’s lap.

“Is this how you guys want to film the scene? We were gonna have you sitting beside each other instead.” Joe stood above you and Tom with his hands on his hips.

“I think this is actually better—don’t get me wrong, sitting beside each other and cuddling is pretty affectionate. But I think having someone rest their head on your lap is another level of intimacy.” Tom reasoned. He wanted to extend the amount of time you could ‘nap’ but he also thought the scene would be much better if your head was cradled on his lap. Personally, he believed it would show the audience how comfortable Cherry and Emily were with each other.

Joe nods his head, “Yeah, I get what you mean. I think I like that better, to be honest. What do you think, (Y/n)? Is Tom’s lap comfortable enough for you to shoot a few scenes on?” Joe asks, teasing you towards the end. He’s met with no response. He raises a brow at you, “Is she asleep?”

“Yup, long night.” Tom chuckled, running his hand through your hair soothingly.

Joe chuckles as well, “Is she all good though?”

“Oh, she’s fine. She just watched The Nun by herself and couldn’t catch any sleep after.” Tom reassured him.

“Ahh, alright.” Joe snickers, moving to make his way back to the crew. “She’s got a good 10 to 15 minutes to squeeze in a nap, monitors are acting up.”

“Gotcha’ boss.” Tom mentally notes, resuming to bask in the nature around him and your presence.

Tags:

Tom Holland Taglist

↪︎ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke @kaylans-imagines @spideyspeaches @xxstrangegirlxxx @slutforsebstan

General Taglist

↪︎ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary @agustdowney

#marvel #mcu #avengers #Tom Holland #Tom Holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff #tom holland drabble #Cherry #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland headcanon #ally’s requests #tom stanley holland #tom holland imagine

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lanawinters-ily · 3 years

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The Cracks of a Broken Heart

Lana & you share everything with each other, but what if she is hiding something? What if you change this forever?

Pairing: Lana Winters x Reader (platonic??)

Word count: 900

Warnings: my raw emotions hehe

(this gif 🥺 my poor baby)

Lana felt like a walking cliché at this point. God, how could she be so very stupid. It was hard enough being a secret lesbian in the 40s, surrounded by homophobia & shame over homosexuality everywhere she turned. And now she had fallen completely for the one person who had always supported her.

She looked over the table at you on the other side, your aura sparkling with pure joy & a beautiful gleaming smile etched across your kind face as you laughed along with the girl beside you. Lana’s gaze always seemed to find you, no matter where you were, or how far away you were, or who you were with. And she resented your addictive nature. It was like a cruel magnet, bonding Lana against her will to the woman that she could never have, but the one who fed her soul in a way that was instinctively primal.

She couldn’t live without you, so her secret love would stay under strict lock & key, the key then thrown into the darkest depths of the oceans to drown in sorrow.

As Lana looked up again from her spiral of self pity, she saw that you had noticed her. Your eyes met in a teasing lock, so intense that Lana felt as if all her emotion was being dragged out of her muddy irises into your own; secret whispers told through a teasing glance. Your happiness was infectious despite her aching chest, so Lana simply smiled in your direction to abate any stalling signs of doubt or anguish across her face. You moved forward, intertwining your long fingers in Lana’s own, a mocking slow dance of platonic affection as you pulled her nearer & whispered,

“I need to tell you something.”

This was not abnormal for your friendship, both of you becoming safes full of confidentiality for each other, Lana’s sexuality being the most valuable gold hidden under a heavy code. You both knew each other like the back of your hand; every secret, every lie, every emotion. Well, except one of course, but Lana had sworn to take that to the grave.

But still she dreamed of your life together. Running away to some deserted field to live in a flower-filled cottage in which you would laugh all day, & cuddle all night. You would bake your own bread & maybe even tend to some animals, or permeate each room with a flock of plants. Lana didn’t care where your hypothetical love would take you both, she just knew that with one look at you as hers, she would be the happiest woman in the world - no riches, or material worth could replace the sheer mountain of love she had carved for you.

“Lana, you’re daydreaming again, save that for your bed sweetheart,” Lana’s heart clenched at the term of endearment, & her pale skin flushed with red at the connotations of bed around you, her creative mind dancing around with suggestive thoughts.

You were now both alone, & had taken both of Lana’s hands in your own as she realised you were slightly sticky with nervous perspiration, & trembling slightly to the touch. You were anxious. Wow, this must be quite the secret to pierce your confident persona. Lana squeezed your fingers reassuringly, the gentle caress a reminder that you were safe with her, & that nothing could ever break your iron-strong bond to each other.

You took a deep breath, & sighed out; “Lana, I’m questioning my sexuality, & you have to keep it a secret.”

Lana’s heart leaped at this admission, the impossibility of your union suddenly shifting to a chance in her mind. All of her dreams raced through her head as she embraced you in a comforting manner, to mask her true elated response.

“Oh love, of course I will. It’s ok, you’re safe with me.” Lana cooed, whilst stroking your cheeks; “How do you feel about it?”

You looked up at her & grinned, saying; “Better now that I’ve told you. There’s this girl that I like who’s in our class,”

Once again, Lana’s lovesick brain took over, odds now narrowed down even further - a lottery turned into a small local draw. Her chances were now narrowed down to a handful of classmates, not that she thought you payed attention to any of them much.

“She’s been questioning too! And we are questioning our feelings for each other, together.”

As suddenly as it had soared, Lana’s heart plummeted towards the concrete below them, anchored by the truth. Her fantasises that floated above her head in a dream-world of heaven dropped back down to Earth, back to reality, back to normality.

The girl was not her. Lana was not certain of much in her life, but her sexuality had been a constant since she was around 10 years old. She was a lesbian, no doubt in her mind. As her English-riddled brain told her, questioning means uncertainty.

Uncertainty means someone else. You belonged to someone else. You shared Lana’s exact dreams, but her face was missing, torn out & obscured by the expression of another.

How does blood pump through the cracks of a broken heart?

Taglist: @ka-s @ninaahs @stayevildarling @babypocahontas @lilypadscoven @winters-witch-bitch @basicasshole @bottom4delia @forevercountess @violentwavesofem0tion @sporadicsupercorpquotesmonger @liberosisaspire @mellowalieneggsknight @supremeinlilac @thecasualgeek1 @lucykilljoy @mrsdeanhoward

#lana winters x reader #lana winters #ahs asylum #my comfort character #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

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Jayyy!! Sweet, slutty in the AM.

Without giving BL spoilers, or maybe you won't? Idk 👀👀 not *cough* fishing or anything *cough*

Can I please have 💖 for Javier??? I'm curious...

Angel out-

Javiears pregnancy headcanons? You got it, babe!

Quick and obvious disclaimer to treat all of these as if they are a Better Love AU, at least until I tell you otherwise. 😘

Any baby that these two have would be a total surprise. Ears never wanted kids, and Javi has never thought long enough about it to decide how he feels about a family. He’s always assumed that was never in the cards for him.

Once the initial shock wears off - and that’s gonna take quite a while for both of them - Javi and Ears both jump feet first into the parenting thing. They each harbor some intense opinions about what a kid should and shouldn’t have to put up with, and there are lots of deep conversations that Last into the early morning hours. They nail down the important stuff pretty early, decide that they’ll figure out the rest with time, and discover a whole lot more about one another in the process.

Ears’ body hates being pregnant. She doesn’t realize it, but she’s got her Ashkenazi ancestry to thank for this. Ears is sick as dog snot clear through her first trimester and well into her second, exhausted and achy and throwing the fuck up. She gets awful migraines, too. There are days when Javi is convinced that carrying this baby is going to kill her, and he worries a lot.

Ears handles all of this as stoically as she can. She’s miserable, but she’s not about to complain and make Javi feel even worse.

Speaking of Javi, that protective streak he’s got goes into overdrive the instant Ears tells him about the baby. Ears has got to constantly remind him that she’s pregnant, not dying, and Javi good god, please just let me do things, okay??

That being said, it takes Javi a little while to connect the idea of Ears being pregnant to Ears carrying his baby. It’s all very abstract to him, to the point that on Ears’ worst days, Javi almost feels a little resentful.

That all changes at Ears’ sixteen week appointment. She’s just starting to feel like a human again, and this time, Javi is allowed to go back with her.

Oh my god, you guys, when Javier Peña sees that blurry, black and white, tiny little baby on the ultrasound screen... yall, his entire world shifts.

Ears notices instantly. It’s kind of hard not to, given how tightly Javi is suddenly gripping her hand. He glances over at him to find his eyes glued to the screen, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. It takes her aback a little. “You okay?” she asks quietly, and Javi nods, drags his eyes away from the ultrasound screen and gives her a soft, wet smile, and something slots into place for Ears, too.

Javi quits smoking cold turkey that day. Seeing his tiny little daughter for the first time put a lot of things into perspective, and Javi decides then and there that he wants to be there for her as long as possible.

The first three weeks are miserable. Javi does his best to get out of the house when he’s feeling tetchy (which is always), and Ears does her best to be understanding, but they get into more than a few little spats.

The makeup sex is 🔥🔥🔥, though.

Ears is not a big girl. When she starts to show, she shows fast, and Javi swears he can see her body change every day. Ears is pretty indifferent. She’s not self conscious - Ears finds pregnancy to be inconvenient, more than anything.

Javier Peña has never seen anything as beautiful as Hannah Aarons carrying his child.

Javi fucking loves it. There’s something primal about running his hand over the gentle swell of Ears’ belly and knowing that it’s his daughter that’s growing there. He’s not one to talk to the bump, but Javi can hardly stop himself from touching it. All the fucking time. Ears will sometimes playfully shoo him away. “Hands to yourself, you animal. I’m trying to nap!”

Seriously, their sex life doesn’t suffer at all. It doesn’t help that Ears refuses to buy maternity clothes. She’d much rather lounge around in Javi’s t-shirts and his old sweats, something that makes Javi’s cave man brain damn near implode every single time he sees it.

Ugh, and he’s sweet to her. Observant and affectionate and accommodating of absolutely everything. Cravings? Tell me what you want, babe, I’ll get three. Foot massage? Come here, mi reina, let me make it better. Yawning through dinner? Go get in bed, Ears, I’ve got dishes tonight.

Javi starts noticing Ears’ puffy feet somewhere around the 28th week or so. Ears swears they don’t hurt, exactly, so they both write it off as one of those weird pregnancy things.

It’s not. Ears has severe pre-eclampsia. Javi only finds this out after Ears gets a migraine so bad that she can’t see straight. Javi carries her to the car and forces her to go to the hospital. They’re there for all of five minutes when the doctor on call deems Ears’ blood pressure to be high enough to constitute a medical emergency, and Javi’s world is turned upside down again when he hears the word “c-section.”

Ears is only 33 weeks pregnant.

Less than an hour later, Javi is holding his baby girl. She’s tiny, the tiniest little human that Javi has ever seen, but she’s got a hell of a set of lungs on her, and Javi has never been so relieved, so stunned, so riveted, or so enraptured by anything in his entire life.

Oh, shit, he’s crying again.

She’s absolutely perfect. Off her oxygen within two days, taking feedings like a champ, and obliterating every goal her pediatrician sets for her.

Javi is so fucking proud when his girl is discharged a full week earlier than the doctors anticipated. She’s still a little small, but growing like a weed, and Javi just knows that between her and her mom, he’s gonna have his hands full.

Ears is fine, just a little sore. There are no long term complications from pre-eclampsia, so as soon as she’s up and sort of moving, Ears in full mom mode.

Ears loves being a mom, but she and Javi are in full agreement on this - one and done.

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #pedro pascal #narcos #narcos netflix #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña imagine #better love #hannah aarons #javiears #you’ll notice that this is not exactly the if I fall scenario #so keep that in mind

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: fanboy!taehyung x artist!reader

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 13.7k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: still bitter about a scandal that ruined your painting career, you’re recommended a getaway by your therapist to a small island off the coast of seoul. expecting a tranquil location to wallow in self-pity, you’re startled when on your first night, you encounter an avid fan of your work. instead of annoying you for an autograph, kim taehyung ends up being the very thing you need to fall in love with art again.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: sexually explicit content, reader suffers from poor mental health but nothing serious, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise, that’s kinda it, it’s pretty soft tbh

The breeze is light here, broken by the gentle rise of the sand dunes behind you. It runs over your skin like water, a warm current that lasts long after the sun slips below the horizon line.

You sit for hours watching it, the tail of pinks and oranges and ochres that reflect thickly on the top of the water, the shallow crests of low tide. There’s a pull in your heart, a twitch at your fingers. The you a year ago would’ve had her paints out already, an easel with legs precariously shoved in the dry sand. The you a year ago would have been tossing up whether cadmium yellow or cadmium orange would suit the last slip of sun above the water, and whether you should wait til it was gone entirely to save making the decision.

Then again, the you a year ago would never have needed to come here.

The you today just waits, silently, you don’t even know what for. You’d been told this was a getaway. That you just needed some time to recover your muse, or some bullshit like that. But the more time you sit in silence and watch the sky blacken to navy and the stars prick the darkness with dazzling clarity, you think your therapist was wrong. How was this a getaway when all your problems were still festering inside you?

“Oh my god, Y/n L/n?”

You groan and sink back into the sand, head cushioned on the warm piles. Just your fucking luck. “You’ve got the wrong person,” you call out with eyes squeezed shut, praying the stranger will leave you alone. The last thing you needed was a green reporter or psycho fan to spill your location to the rest of the world. You can only imagine the headline. Disgraced painter Y/n L/n found hiding away on a tropical island eight months after she ruined the Met Gala.

“Oh my god, it is you! I’m a massive fan, wow!”

Fuck. At least there was a chance they’d keep quiet. You crack open an eye, staring up at the figure beside you, cast in shadow. From the glint of moonlight, you can see a crown of ruffled hair that’s a faded teal. It reminds you of the impressionist painting of a mountain lake that threw your work into the public eye. Just as faded as the dye on his hair, that time feels worn and aged, like from another life. A reminder of how far you’d fallen. “Look,” you confess lowly to the silhouette, “I just wanna be left alone, I’m not- I’m just here for a break from...everything.”

The figure shifts his weight in the sand, raising an arm to scratch at the back of his neck shyly. “I don’t mean to disturb you,” he apologises. With the slight breeze, his baggy clothes buffet around his lean figure and in the darkness he looks like some vengeful angel, towering over you with the moon behind him. But his voice is so soft, so genuine, so- so warm. Perhaps not vengeful, then, but definitely an angel. “You’re a hero of mine, I wanted to thank you for how much you’ve inspired me, saved me. Gosh, it’s crazy that you’re even here, I-”

“I’m sorry,” you force out, sitting up, wincing as grains of sand work their way down the nape of your neck, “really, I am. But I’m not the person you’re thinking of. Not anymore, at least.” You hate the way your voice rings out so thinly in the night air, nothing like the deep honey of his. You hate the way you sound broken.

He senses it too; he takes a step back, turns towards the dunes. “I should be going, I guess,” he murmurs. “For what it’s worth, I hope I see you around. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You don’t respond, wrapping your arms around your hunched knees and staring at the silver ocean until you can no longer see him in your peripheral vision.

—

It’s over a week before you see him again. Though you’d never admit it to anyone, you keep an eye out for the boy with the teal hair. There wasn’t enough light that day to make out his face but still, with hardly any people for miles, you hadn’t anticipated he’d be all that difficult to find.

Truth be told, there had been a deep curl of regret and dissatisfaction that took root inside you shortly after you left. He was just trying to be nice, and you could use a friend. Could use someone.

You had asked for privacy when your therapist began recommending a break, a getaway, but you hadn’t expected it to this degree. The place you were staying at was a rundown bungalow just behind the dunes, tucked away in a sliver of land where sand met forest, rising up into hills. The only people you saw were the employees that ran it: a maid that stopped by every day at 1pm, even though you had already made the bed and cleaned up after yourself; an older gentleman that delivered you fresh groceries every couple of days in his ancient-looking four wheel drive; and finally, the electrician you’d had to call out a few nights prior after the power went out.

The mysterious fan hadn’t been dressed like an employee; then again, it was long past the workday when he’d approached you. Mulishly, you find yourself lugging a picnic blanket and a pillow down to the beachfront every evening, monitoring every inch of the coastline that stretches around this edge of the peninsula.

It’s only on the ninth night, when you’re folding up your rough blanket with a disappointed grumble, that a sudden yap catches your attention. You whirl around, toes sinking deeper into the light sand, and gasp as a familiar silhouette approaches, stumbling down a sand dune to your left.

He hasn’t seen you yet; so focused on the tiny fluffball that tugs restlessly at its leash. It’s a lot earlier tonight than the last time you’d seen him, and there’s enough remnants of sunlight in the sky to cast him in a warm golden glow.

He’s in baggy clothes like last time, a long-sleeved white t-shirt with a v in the center, unbuttoned and sagging over the shoulder of the arm that’s getting yanked along, and some tan linen shorts. It’s hard to tell with how he sinks to his ankles in sand with every step, but he’s barefoot, almost sliding down the steep dune more so than walking.

You can’t hear him at this distance, but his lips are moving, parted in a boxy grin as he responds to the constant yipping of the tiny dog at his feet. He’s gorgeous, tanned skin to fit the honey of his voice - the voice you’ve been unable to shake from your head - and the roots of his hair are the colour of brown sugar, lightening into the dyed teal ends, whipping over his cheeks and neck in the seabreeze.

He turns off when he reaches the base, following his dog, who pulls in your direction, short bursts of energy that get cut off by the length of the leash. Your heart jumps, and you find yourself waiting in anticipation, breath caught in your throat.

But the moment he glances up and sees you, he halts in his tracks. Stepping back, his smile falls, bowing his head to you apologetically and pulling on the leash so that the small black-and-tan puppy at his feet turns around with him.

They start walking away from you, and you don't have time to think before you're calling out to him, jogging over with your blanket and pillow forgotten behind you.

He stops walking, though he doesn't turn, and when you finally come to a stop beside him, he keeps his head down.

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday," you rush out, slightly out of breath, "I was in a really shitty mood, and I had kinda come here to get away from...everything in the first place. I wasn't expecting a fan, and I reacted badly. I'm sorry."

Even after standing still, you can't seem to catch your breath. You haven't seen him this close, in this much detail, and it makes the air catch in your lungs. His eyes are an intense burnt umber, dancing over your face with an unreadable depth to them. He's taller than you, but not bulky. Though his shoulders are wide, he's lean, with a narrow nose and soft cheeks. The wind plays with the ends of his hair, revealing glimpses of a strong brow. He's beautiful.

"I didn't mean to bother you," he says after a moment, and you almost jump at the timbre of his voice so close to you, "I should be the one apologising. I'll leave you alone, honestly. I can find another place to go for a walk, or go at a different time-"

"Do you walk here a lot at this time?" you interrupt, the euphoria of finally holding a conversation after so long loosening your tongue. "You haven't been back since that night."

He tips his head to the side, shoulder jerking when his dog impatiently tugs at the leash, quiet snuffles and yips of disapproval ignored in the air between you. There's a flicker of something in his eyes - surprise? Amusement? "You were looking for me?"

"I-" Your voice fails you, and you realise how pathetic you must look. Your shoulders sink. "I was... I wanted to apologise," you land on finally.

That strange flicker in his eyes settles into a grateful warmth. "I normally do, yeah, but I had to go back to the mainland to pick up this guy." With a genuine smile, he glances down to the ball of fluff that's now lying over his bare foot. "I stayed there while he got his first lot of vaccinations. You can pat him, if you want."

You can recognise that offer for what it really is; an olive branch. In other words, he's apparently not holding a grudge against you for being an asshole. You smile gratefully, crouching down to pat the tiny animal. "What's his name?"

"Yeontan," he answers cheerily. "he's nine weeks old!"

You coo, chuckling at the soft fur wriggling beneath your fingertips, at the wet nose prodding at your palm for more pats. "Yeontan..." you muse. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

You hear a sheepish laugh from above. "Your, um, your painting of the old barn in Icheon? There's a kennel that's beside it in shadow, but you can just make out the name Yeontan painted on the front. I-" He breaks off awkwardly, falling silent.

Your hand freezes, and you feel yourself slump from a crouch to sitting fully on the sand, still hot from the afternoon sun. Yeontan. A detail you couldn't even remember painting, yet he'd named his dog after it. The dog continues to cover your hands in slobber and stray fur, but you just stare at it blankly.

"I'm sorry," the man winces, tone low with defeat. "You probably think it's stupid. I swear I'm not one of those crazy obsessed fans! There was just..." His voice changes then, closes up to cut off any emotion. "I shouldn't say. Sorry."

Your shoulders slacken. "You don't have to keep apologising," you say softly. After a moment's thought, you push up off the sand to stand up again, grains clinging to the skin that's damp from the dog's affections. The handsome stranger's face is stricken, reluctant as he watches you get up. You miss the boxy smile he'd held when he made his way down the dunes. You wonder if he'll ever smile that way at you. "I wanna hear. What you have to say."

Hand flexing on the leash, he looks down at Yeontan and back up at you, eyes squinted slightly as the sun glares onto his face; a radiant, sharp orange. "One of the reasons I'm such a fan of your work is the emotion you can actually see on the canvas. I don't even know how to explain it, but I feel it. And with the Icheon barn painting - I actually saved up for years to buy the original - there's something so sad and lonely about that kennel, that patch of shadow. The rest of the scene is so bright and open, it feels like a party that the kennel wasn't invited to. I don't know, it's stupid. But I thought if I ever bought a dog, I'd name it Yeontan so that it wouldn't feel so alone." He faces the horizon as he speaks, wincing into the light, and a broken laugh bubbles out of his throat once he's done. "Like I said; it's stupid."

But you don't think it's stupid at all. "Did it work?" you ask instead, nose prickling as tears build behind your eyes. The more he spoke, the more you remember the painting. It was your last work before the Met Gala disaster, and after everything went down in flames, desperate online tabloids went back to it, citing it as a 'cry for help'. You hadn't really painted it like that though, not really. You'd seen that beautifully painted barn in the countryside when you were driving between cities to visit your parents, and was taken by the dilapidated dog kennel tucked just beside it. Painting it wasn't some sort of clue to your nosedive, but more like a solidarity with that kennel, the dog that once lived there. The story that had been forgotten. And to hear this man had seen it, had wanted to ease the suffering just like you had... The emotions inside you, ones that had felt so dull and monochrome, now churn inside you in indecipherable technicolour, too many to count. But you think one of them might just be hope. "Did- did getting Yeontan work?"

He's looking at you now. He stays silent for a moment, the softest smile tugging at your lips, and it takes your breath away, watching the colours of sunset play across his skin while his brown eyes seek yours out intensely. "Yeah, it did," he answers eventually, his voice almost a whisper. It's only once he starts speaking that you realise the two of you have moved closer inwards without realising, so that it would only take a half step forward to be pressed against him. "But I think talking with you has helped more."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. The whirlpool inside you settles, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in years. You don't know what it is about this man that makes you feel...sane again, but you want more of it. "I think talking with you has helped me too," you confess, voice lilting in uncertainty. "Can... can I see you again? I don't even know your name, but-"

"Taehyung," he answers immediately, and even with the fall of night, the sun well and truly gone, his eyes are bright. "I could come back tomorrow?"

Your toes flex in the sand fighting the urge to jump in relief. "Yes! Yes, I'd like that," you chime, a smile tugging at your lips. "It was nice to meet you, Taehyung."

"The pleasure is all mine."

You sleep well that night. You can’t remember the last time the peaceful rays of sun have woken you so gently, but you certainly aren’t complaining.

You’d spent the past week or so moping in your cabin until late afternoon and then moping on the beach. Only now, after finally meeting the boy again - Taehyung - you realise how much you’ve been wasting your time buried in your own thoughts. Now all you want to do is explore. You’d been told on the ferry over here that the island was only a few hours’ walk around the coastline, and that your cabin, a street of shops and a small village of houses were the only signs of life. No bar to drown your sorrows at. No club for finding faceless strangers to make you forget who you were for a few hours. All your coping vices had been replaced with open stretches of nature in all its colours; the cool grey rocky beaches on the southern shore, the lush greens of the hilly forests, the glinting turquoise of the sea, and open plains of pastel sky for miles and miles.

The walk isn’t particularly intensive, but it’s long, and your feet ache in their sandals by the time you reach the docks again, having marked a full loop around the island. The dock, empty this late in the morning, leads directly to the main street via a cobblestone path that weaves between dunes, flax bushes, fields and a skinny stretch of trees, and you follow it to the center of the island, resting in a small cafe.

There’s no free WiFi here, so you sip at a tall glass of homemade strawberry lemonade and watch the streets through the storefront window. From your seat, you can see the people wander back and forth, the odd few with kids, but almost all are retirement age. Slow-moving couples with walkers and canes, elderly men jangling the keys to their vintage cars (that surely didn’t have much road to drive on), women with age-spotted skin and heavy beaded jewellery.

You can’t work out how Taehyung fits in this picture. It’s almost impossible to picture him walking down the same street as everyone else; his dyed hair, clothes two sizes too big, tall and slender frame hurrying down with a dog leash in one hand and a grocery bag in the other-

Wait.

You straighten up, eyes widening as you watch the man himself pauses to let Yeontan cock his leg on a patch of grass by the intersection. Physically, he’s entirely incongruous with the rest of the villagers, but he looks entirely at home, glancing up to smile in recognition at every figure that passes by him. One goes so far as to reach up and ruffle his hair playfully as she talks, and his face brightens with crinkled eyes and a boxy grin, greeting her warmly.

The same feeling of longing and dissatisfaction stirs you from the other time you saw that smile. You want to be the one that makes him so happy. You frown, unconsciously chewing on the end of the paper straw. It’s too hot in here. There’s not enough ventilation, and with the sun streaming in, the heat just pools inside, sticking to your thighs and arms. That’s why you leave the cafe before finishing your drink. The heat.

The lady has left by the time you cross the street, and you fake a cough noisily as you pass him, eyes cast away but face turned so he’d easily recognise you.

“Y/n!” Your heart warms, keens at the calling of your name, and you turn to him, smiling broadly. Taehyung grins when Yeontan rushes over to greet you too, whole body rocking with the force of his tail wagging. “Fancy seeing you here,” he remarks, and you take in a deep breath of air, feeling lightheaded with his attention back on you.

“I decided to explore a bit,” you answer, eyes dropping down to the supermarket bag in his hands, white plastic taut and digging red lines into his palm with the weight of it. “Retail therapy?”

He laughs goodnaturedly, but there’s a flush of pink high on his cheekbones, standing out beside the strands of green that he’s tucked behind his ears. “It’s actually, uh, something for tonight. I didn’t know if you’d- If you still-” He breaks off his stammering with another laugh, this one more self-conscious, and the pink deepens to red. “I thought you and I could paint together. I bought us some materials just in case you didn’t bring your own.” You fall silent, mouth slack and parted in surprise, so he continues on, lifting up his hand for a moment, bag rustling, then changing his mind and letting it fall again. “There isn’t a proper art supplies store here, so it’s just from the toy store. I know you’re probably used to proper stuff, but a bad worker blames his tools, you know! Not that you would- that you’re a bad-”

“You paint?” you ask finally, ending his nervous rambling.

His whole body slackens a bit, like you’ve cut some tension from him, his head dipping down to break eye contact. “Um. I’m- learning,” he answers with an uncertain wobble to his voice.

You tilt your head to the side with an expectant smile. “That’s really cool. How long have you been studying?”

He swallows, looking up to send you a hesitant smile. “I, um, I studied the instructions on the back of a paint-by-numbers kit in the toy store. Just now.” His voice lifts at the end of each sentence like it’s a question, that same bargaining smile plastered on his face.

You let out a genuine laugh, the first one you’ve had in a while. In too long. “Is that so? I better bow down to the maestro then.”

“Hey!” he whines playfully, shoulders rocking forward like a toddler feeling sorry for himself. “I learnt everything I know so far just from your art. And did you hear that speech I gave you about The Barn at Icheon? That was pretty good, right? You have to admit, that was good.”

His hand, the one loosely holding Yeontan’s lead, reaches out to grasp gently just above your elbow as he speaks, rocking you slightly like he’s pleading for you to agree. You find a constant stream of laughter bubbling out of your throat as he does so, feeling so light in the sunny midday breeze. “Okay, okay, that was good,” you confess, “you get a point for that.”

Once your laughter subsides slowly, you find yourself looking up at him with a residual smile, the same of which is spread on his face, eyes glimmering with something fond. He waits for the air between you to fall silent, tongue slipping out just slightly to wet his lips as you hold his gaze. “Y/n,” he asks softly, your name like molten sugar on his tongue, thumb unconsciously rubbing at the sensitive skin in the crook of your arm, “will you paint with me?”

Though the thought of painting still sours inside your chest, with his skin on your skin and his smile just for you, you feel like you could do anything. There’s only one answer. “Yes, I’ll paint with you, Taehyung.”

Painting with Taehyung is less painting with Taehyung and more staring desolately into the middle distance as Taehyung decides to make the clouds purple, bottom lip sucked between his teeth in focus.

“Don’t overthink it,” he stresses for the millionth time, glancing over at your blank canvas, “I’m not judging you.”

But it’s not about him judging you. If it wasn’t for him, you don’t think a paintbrush would have ever found its way into your hands again, certainly not so soon. It’s just that- you feel an overwhelming burden, a historical pressure of all your mistakes before. If you put brush to canvas now and create a work of art, then was your complete mindblank for the Met Gala all for nothing? Though your therapist advised against it, you had rather become attached to the idea that you’d somehow gotten artistically injured somewhere, and that eventually you’d broken completely, irreparable. It made the constant white void easier. Your first death.

“Happy little accidents,” Taehyung says lightly, dipping heavily into orange and catching a dollop on his wide-leg jeans. Not noticing it, or not caring, he swipes the orange into the canvas in a wonky line down past the horizon line, forming the neck and body of what looks vaguely like a giraffe. “And, um, happy little- happy little trees. If you want we could turn around and face the forest?”

Though a glum cloud is settling in your stomach you flick him a soft smile. “So you watch Bob Ross too? I thought you said you learnt everything from me.”

Using the same brush, he scoops out some black, using a pinkie finger to mix the colours together inside the bristles, a murky brown. “Maybe just a little,” he admits, daubing rough patches onto the giraffe, half of them overlapping the edges of its body. There’s an endearing quality to his carefree worksmanship, and you can’t deny that his painting looks good, wonky lines and all. “But don’t worry, you’ll always be my first,” Taehyung adds, not looking at you but smirking all the same.

The double entendre isn’t missed on you, but still, as you sit on a picnic table right on the edge of the village, blank canvas in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to laugh at it. All you can see is the paint drying on the tip of Taehyung’s finger, the messy pots of basic acrylics, and the warm smile that doesn’t leave his face.

He’s having fun. How long has it been since painting has been fun for you? Annoyed, you grab the clear green plastic brush from the set, dipping it into black. Muscle memory tingles across your knuckles and down the muscles of your wrist, an instinct to hold the brush in a certain way, tap off the excess, but your frustration overrides it, and you take the paintladen brush and smear it directly across the center of the canvas, a gaping maw of glossy shadow that bulges on the lower edges, gravity pulling at the thick stripe. You go completely still once it’s done. Staring.

Taehyung looks over after a moment, watching you carefully. “Is everything alright? If you didn’t want to paint, we didn’t have to-”

“It’s terrible,” you interrupt, a frown marring your face. “I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” he chastises softly, pushing his canvas to the side and leaning over your shoulder. “It’s a promising start. Maybe the duck pond is black in your world.”

Your eyes slide lower, unfocused. “Maybe the whole ocean is black in my world,” you murmur.

He’s silent for a moment, unsure what to say. “Then how will the fish see?” he asks in a light tone, bumping your shoulder gently with his, but you just let out a broken sob, tears spilling over your cheeks like they’d been triggered by his contact. Taehyung’s mouth opens in a rounded o, eyes wide, and as the dam breaks, you feel an arm find your back, rubbing soothingly, and long, warm fingers wrap around the hand that holds the brush limply, cradling it. “We can fix it, it’s okay,” he soothes in a kind whisper, “here; it’s that mailbox now, yeah? And behind it is the candy shop-” His voice cuts off while he guides your shaking hand to the green, mixing it with white in the plastic pottle to make a pale pastel. You feel the pressure of the brush in your hand shift as he moves the bristles over the canvas in a roughly rectangular shape, but you’re unseeing, crying tears that sting like turpentine into that black ocean behind your eyelids, letting him move you.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, you curled in his embrace as he quietly paints for you, commenting on each step of the process so you know what he’s doing, even with your eyes closed. At one point, your energy leaves you, and you collapse into him, pressing your cheek against the stable warmth of his chest, heartbeat audible through his thin t-shirt. He doesn’t complain, just adjusting his stance to better support you and resting his chin on your head.

“I’m sorry,” you blubber thickly at one point, tasting salt.

“You don’t have to be,” he assures, “just keep breathing. Look; let’s put some trees in, hm? One for you and one for me.”

You open your eyes with a sniffle, feeling your hand lower in his secure hold, and you twist around your head to watch him dip the filthy brush in a green which has already been tainted by white and red in places. Your eyes follow it up again, until he fearlessly swipes in the graceful branches of the fir trees which cover the highest points of the island. You look at the rest of the painting, and a disbelieving giggle bubbles out of you, a smile across your face despite everything.

Unlike the mental image you’d been plotting in your head with the narration, this square of canvas has a line of slightly leaning buildings stacked beside each other tightly, colours smearing on the borders. In the middle of the uneven grey strip of cement down the middle to mark out the road, two trees stand proud, mostly green but with bleeding patches of muddy purple and brown too. Entire drops of paint spatter and run, creating a chaotic but vivid daydream of the end of the street in front of you.

“A lot better in your head, wasn’t it?” Taehyung asks knowingly. You laugh again, the last few tears pressed out of the corners of your wet eyes. “It’s okay,” he replies easily, “it was better in my head too. But the one in our heads is boring, don’t you think? If I wanted to see the street in front of me exactly, I’d just look up. Or take a photo. But nobody can visit this place we’ve painted. It’s just here, brand new because of us. I think I like that more.”

You sit up, wiping your eyes with a tired smile. “There’s no way you learnt all that from me,” you deflect, voice still raw from crying. “But yeah. I think I like this one more too.”

“I’m glad,” he answers softly, letting go of your hand and removing his hand from your back at the same time. You suppress a shiver at the sudden absence of heat. “I’ll let this dry and hang it up right beside The Barn at Icheon.”

You laugh again, sniffing away the last dregs of self-pity. “You better not,” you warn playfully, “as semantically poignant as it is, it’s an awful paintjob.”

When Taehyung smiles, it’s bright and boxy. And it’s just for you.

Time passes, but not like in the real world. Out here on this island, you start counting the passage of time by how many occasions you’d met Taehyung. Then, once you’ve seen him too often to count, you let yourself lose track of time completely, remembering only the moments spent with him like vignettes on a fragile chain.

The two of you always meet in the town or on the beach, speaking about everything and nothing. One day, while waiting beside the blue metal mailbox for Yeontan to pee (though Taehyung still insisted it looked better black) you tell him of the time you accidentally turned all your clothes yellowy-green after accidentally putting an apron in the wash that had an opened sampler of chartruese in the pocket. On a rainy afternoon when you’d gotten caught in the downfall walking through the forest, Taehyung told you, while wringing out rainwater from his rumpled maroon sweater, that he was meant to be studying agricultural sciences on the mainland, but his grandmother was sick and so he bought a place nearby to care for her.

“One good thing about being on the island,” he’d chimed cheerily, dark teal and brown plastered to his cheeks and forehead, “is that property is super cheap here. My grandma paid half and I paid half, and now the one-bedroom I live in is all mine.”

“But isn’t that sad?” you’d questioned, feeling the ground turn to mud beneath your shoes. “Living on the island, I mean? You should be in a big city, partying with your friends, living life. This place is like one massive retirement village.”

Taehyung had just shrugged. “My grandma likes it. And I like living for someone else, you know? Makes me feel good.”

Long after you’d gone home, warming up by the radiator in your beachside bungalow, those words had stuck with you. You wonder if, with all this time he’s been spending with you, he’s starting to live for you, too. You wonder if maybe that’s a bad thing.

But still, time passes in this hazy, episodic way. Money continues to filter out of your bank account each week you stay, but you hadn’t worried about your finances for years now, enough successful exhibits from your productive days keeping a healthy sum.

Though he never pushes as much as last time at the picnic table, Taehyung keeps you creating. Backs of napkins, tourism pamphlets, the kids colouring sets at the local diner. No matter how scrawled or indecipherable, the soft-hearted boy compliments your work all the same, slipping the scraps into his pocket with a joking promise that he’s going to frame them. Somehow, every unthought, unplanned line of ink or lead or pigment that lights the page feels like one less needle buried deep inside your heart, one small salve to ease the burden. You don’t know if Taehyung knows it, but in all the ways that count he’s a better artist than you.

When he’s around you, the world is lusher, more vibrant. Your time alone is grey and muted; a dull beach, an empty bungalow. With him, you feel like the sky is bluer and the trees are greener. The bonfire you sit in front of now casts an intense orange glow on everything around it, including Taehyung’s hands as he deftly impales marshmallows onto a skewer.

It’s cooler at nighttime these days. At some point, you’d both exchanged sandals for sneakers, t-shirts for sweaters. Taehyung seems to fancy heavy cable knits and thick trousers even in mild weather, and you wonder if he’d still wear clothing typical of an elderly gentleman even if he was on the mainland in a modern city instead of around the older generation on the island.

Tonight, you’d tried and failed a traditional Korean barbecue over the open flame. While Taehyung had shoved his cut of pork right into the fire, ending up with a charred outside and raw inner, you’d diligently held yours above the flames, turning and turning until the muscles in your arm screamed and you had to give up and admit perhaps the meat from the local butcher was cut too thick, and that a bonfire was good for nothing more than toasted marshmallows.

“This is where it’s at, this is it,” the young man enthuses confidently, each skewer laden with four or five marshmallows, bunched together, “dessert for dinner. The way it should be.”

You’re content to sit back and let him work excitedly, wrapping the edges of the picnic blanket low over your shoulders and lap. Though Taehyung is always devastatingly handsome, he’s the most gorgeous like this: focused in his element and surrounded by all the colours and textures of nature, a painting come to life. The heat of the flames is curling his hair lightly, making teal ends flick at his temples and the nape of his neck. His hair was growing out steadily, but still he chose not to cut it, and you can’t deny the length suits him.

“There’s more brown than green now,” you mention softly. “Soon it’ll look like dip-dye.”

Taehyung glances back at you over his shoulder with a rougish grin, shuffling around so he faces you fully. “What; is this your way of saying it looks bad?”

“No,” you defend with a pout, reaching for the near-full packet of marshmallows. “I’m just curious if you’re gonna leave it like that.”

Taehyung hums like he doesn’t fully believe you, and he leans over to shove his hand in the packet at the same time that you’re rummaging for the soft sweets, your knuckles brushing together. You shiver at the contact. Somehow, that’s been the first time you’ve shared skin contact since that day at the picnic table. Wide-eyed, you wait til he’s grabbed a bunch and pull your own hand away, empty and white with powder.

“Sorry,” he adds reflexively, but you just shake your head. How are you supposed to tell him that you liked the feeling of his skin on yours? Taehyung pops a pink marshmallow into his left cheek, letting it bulge and slur his speech as he gives you a broad grin. “You could dye it for me! My hair, I mean. Pick a colour.”

Against your will, you smile back, cheeks puffing at the thought. “I have no idea how to dye hair, Tae.”

Something flickers in his eyes when you say that, or maybe it’s the dancing flames reflected in them. He chews quickly, swallowing with a jerk of his jaw, and licks the rest of the white powder off his lips. “I bet it’s a whole lot easier than painting a picture.”

You scoff, but there’s no bite to it. “Oh, so you didn’t want me to paint one of my works on your hair, then? Don’t fancy Jeju Dusk on your scalp?”

Taehyung grins at the name, recognising the title of one of your earlier paintings - one that had been relentlessly criticised for its blending of techniques, something that later became your signature. “That’s my second favorite piece, you know? I have a print of it at home, and I saw the original in the Leeum Museum last year.”

You remember the director of the Leeum fondly. In your beginning years, he’d fought for your works to be shown in some of the frequent exhibitions they held. Even though you’d barely made a name for yourself, and had only recently moved to Seoul, Director Kim Namjoon took you in like a mentee and gave you a job himself as his PA. The experience you’d gotten there, as well as that vital exposure, had kept you business-savvy throughout your career, and once you were in a position to give back, you donated almost all of your original canvases to the museum in his name. Maybe one day you’d return home to Seoul and tell Namjoon of the boy who lived on a faraway island, the boy who taught you to open up again. Would Taehyung still be with you then? Though it hasn’t been long, it’s hard to comprehend a life without Taehyung. All you can visualise is a great absence, a lack. You banish the thought from your mind with a shake of your head, glancing back up to see the boy himself boldly setting a skewer of marshmallows on fire in the orange heat. “I hope that’s your one,” you joke weakly as he puffs out the blue and orange that lick at the blackening lumps.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what my favorite work is?” he asks instead, ignoring your statement.

You stay silent for a moment, observing the way he discards the charred skewer in his lap and delicately toasts the other one, swivelling the base so that each side of the marshmallow stack warms to a golden brown. Once he pulls it out, he hands it to you with an expectant quirk of his brow. You take the stick with a slightly suspicious smile. “What’s your favorite, Taehyung?”

“Your next one,” he answers immediately, gaze locked on yours.

You blame the heat radiating off the bonfire for the warmth in your cheeks as you suppress a smile. “Alright then,” you say decisively.

“Alright what?”

“Alright, I’ll dye your hair for you.”

He grins broadly, eyes crinkling into crescent moons as he starts eating his thoroughly-burnt marshmallows. “Tomorrow,” he announces, melted strings of pink and white pooling in the corner of his lips. “Let’s meet at the convenience store and you can pick the colour.”

You smirk at the way he devours the toasted marshmallows with childish glee. “You’ll regret that when you come out of this with highlighter orange hair.”

He chucks his leftover stick into the grocery bag you brought your supplies in, letting himself collapse backwards onto the heated sand. “I think I could pull it off,” he deflects calmly. “Just you see.”

Breath taken away by the peace on his face as he closes his eyes, your mind works dizzily, desperate to find something to keep him talking, to keep this moment between you alive. “Maybe you could get a job as air traffic control. Or a streetlight. Just you wait; it’ll be orange orange.”

Taehyung’s face warms in a lazy smile as he hums. He looks so peaceful lying there that you’re tempted to join him, but you choose instead to shuffle back from the fire so that you can see his face better. His hair’s splayed out over the sand, and you can see the warm flickers from the bonfire play over his neck, his jaw, and the tip of his nose. Taehyung’s right; orange does suit him. “I had a dream, you know. Last night.”

You feel - with the gentle breeze and the silence of the sea surrounding you - that perhaps you’re in a dream right now. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” his low voice hushes, barely louder than the popping of wood on the fire. “We weren’t on the island, we were in Seoul. Your wing of the Leeum Museum.”

You laugh shallowly, not wanting to make much noise for a reason you couldn’t quite pinprick. “I don’t have a wing at the Leeum.”

“You did in my dream,” he defends resolutely, the beginnings of a boxy smile tugging at his lips. “Anyway, we were in your wing, and I remember being so confused because I didn’t recognise any of them. But you told me they were all new. They were paintings of m-” he cuts himself off a beat too late, lips pressed together.

Your heart falters, a rush of adrenaline that flows to the ends of your fingers and toes. You fight to keeo your voice steady. “Maybe it was a premonition.”

Resting on his stomach, Taehyung’s hands twitch, his fingers twisting together. His smile flattens into a tense line and his eyelids squeeze shut tightly. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up,” he admits quietly after a short pause of thought.

Looking back, you can’t remember your thought process, or where your boldness comes from. Maybe something about the way the moment felt detached from reality, a timeless bubble of the two of you that sat adjacent to your real life, separate from consequence. Maybe it was the brief glimpse of pink as he wets the inner seam of his lips. Maybe you’ve just wanted this for too long to think rationally anymore.

Whatever it is, you swallow past the dryness in your mouth, bend down, and press a kiss to his lips.

Taehyung goes completely still at first. You’re cross-legged on the sand, knees faced to his side, and when you kiss him, it’s on enough of an angle that you feel his nose brushing your cheekbone, and you can feel your hair falling down either side of your face like silken rain. He stays still, though, and you press a little harder, just for a moment, before his lack of response shatters your streak of confidence.

With a minute sigh of regret, you lift off of him, ready to sit up again and apologise profoundly. But before there’s more than a few centimeters of air between you, his hand is suddenly snaking around the nape of your neck, fingers slipping up into your hair as he pulls you back down.

When you collide again with a gasp, his mouth is parted, and his teeth scrape against your bottom lip with his urgency. Losing your balance, you throw your outside arm over him, palm plunging into the sand just beside his head, and let your upper torso rest on his his.

“Taehyung,” you sigh onto his lips, shivering when his free hand rests hotly on your waist, thumb slipping under the hem of your shirt to rub maddenly over the sensitive skin of your stomach. “Oh, Taehyung.”

His lips are sticky with the remains of the toasted marshmallows, and tentatively you seek out that sweetness, kissing deeper, letting your tongue slide over the pinkened skin. He holds you so gently, like you’re made of glass, yet his mouth on yours is pure fire, and your breath comes in little gasps, bursts of oxygen that only fan the flames higher. It takes you a few moments to realise the humming in his throat and the motion of his lips are words, so softly spoken, but once you do you slow your movements to a languid stream to better hear them.

“...so beautiful, I’ve wanted to do this for so long, I must be dreaming…” He speaks with his eyes half-lidded, like he doesn’t want to fully lose sight of you, uttering words between sweet kisses, strong hands cradling you so carefully. He presses his lips against yours one last time and moves his hand from your neck to your face, thumbing tenderly at your cheekbone. “God, I’m so lucky to be by your side,” he gasps. “And when you paint new works and attend exhibits, I’ll still be by your side.”

His words are sweet, but something about them strikes an odd note in your chest, and you pull back slightly, shaking off his hands.

He looks at you with wide eyes and swollen lips which are parted in a confused pout. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s my paintings,” you whisper disbelievingly, “isn’t it? That’s why you think you like me. You like my paintings, and you think it’s somehow the same thing.”

He frowns, shuffling back to sit up, further apart from you than you’d been all night. “No,” he says automatically, “I like you, I just… I think you’re talented, and I want to help you-”

“It’s not your place to help me,” you snap back, and Taehyung flinches. “I’m not some- some out-of-order printer that just needs some TLC to start pumping out pages again. You’re a fan, Taehyung, not a fucking therapist.”

He lets those words sit in the air until they sour, staring at you with eyes shiny and lips trembling. “I know that,” he says, voice cracking, “I know that. I just- Just because you had issues with the Met Gala exhibit doesn’t mean you have to run away and hide, you know?”

Your mouth falls open. “I… I didn’t have issues with the Met Gala, okay, Taehyung? I blanked. Every time I tried to paint something for the exhibit, it sucked. I hated it. And then, eventually, I stopped being able to paint anything at all. It was like I just- I just couldn’t. And the Director kept calling, but I couldn’t answer him because I was so fucking humiliated, and you get the day of the Met and the walls are empty because Y/n L/n is a fucking failure. So it’s not- You can’t fix me, Taehyung. I’m just broken.”

The fire spits, crackles, as it smoulders down, nothing more than hot coals that barely light the surroundings. Taehyung, face slowly darkening to shadow, doesn’t say anything. Just sits. Waits.

You sniff, looking down at your hands. “My point is, Tae-” and you scoff at yourself for using a nickname at a time like this, “You shouldn’t like me. I have nothing to give you anymore.”

Sand sticks to your bare legs when you stand, but you make no attempt to brush it off. Though it’s nearly complete darkness, you see Taehyung’s hair shift as he tips his head up to watch you. Rather than speak back, he waits in the pitch black of the extinguished bonfire and lets you go.

Later, in the unforgiving silence of your bungalow, you find yourself gravitating not towards your bed but towards your suitcase, to the small wooden chest of travel paints you had brought never expecting to use.

It’s easier to paint than to think on your regrets and mistakes, and so you let your mind go black, your palette filling with shades of brown, ochre and beige, as well as a single swatch of teal.

The entire next day sees you in a sleep-deprived fervour, the entire main room of your bungalow cleared out and transformed into a makeshift studio, paintings drying on emptied bookshelves, sheets of old newspaper covering the carpet covered in stray spots of colour, the kitchen bench housing your mismatched array of paints and tools.

After finishing your first painting, you’d collapsed onto your bed as the sun began to rise, too exhausted to wash the dried paint off your hands and brow. But it only took a few moments of rest before you felt yourself sinking into a glum quicksand, sucked in by all the emotions swirling in your chest. Suffocated by the sole image of Taehyung, sitting alone on the sand in the dark as you walked away.

So, you’d gotten up, fed the itch in your hands and picked up a brush once more, and let yourself be taken by the mindless haze of work, of colours and angles and perspectives, starting to paint the knuckles on one canvas while you waited for the eyes to dry on another.

Just after 10am, your housekeeper had knocked on the door, and you’d had to play sick so that she wouldn’t come inside. If they kept your deposit or charged you damages for a stray lick of paint on some surface, what did it matter?

You threw yourself so intensely into these paintings, that weren’t art so much as sighs of relief, or buoys in a churning sea. It was all too easy to let your mind latch onto the task of mixing colours, of choosing techniques, of mastering proportions. Normally, you’d work in front of a landscape, or take a photo and paint it later, wanting to get things right, but Taehyung comes to mind with startling clarity.

Soon, your bungalow fills with artworks - some painted on newspaper, or pages of a book when you run out of canvases. Vistas of those moments with him like clustered vignettes: his eyes with orange glints reflected in them from that night with the bonfire; his hands wringing his sodden sweater the day you got caught in the rain; a boxy smile, the first time he ever grinned at you like that; and finally, just as your hands begin to shake too much to hold the brush steady, a lone silhouette walking down a dune, tiny dog tugging at the leash in his hand. The memories flow in reverse, like some sort of undoing, a wish to go back in time and do things right, to be better for him, to do right by him.

When you set the brush down one final time, fingers trembling with exhaustion, it’s nearly midnight. You realise with a dull pang that you’d forgotten to go down to the township to buy Taehyung hair dye. You realise he probably wouldn’t have come down either.

Your face is stiff in places where swipes of paint have dried, and your hair is tangled, thrown up a half-hearted ponytail that keeps threatening to slip, but as you stare around the chaos of the room, at the fevered paintings of him, only him, always him, your heart knows what to do. Whether you like it or not, you can’t go back in time and start new, start fresh. But you can go forward, and you know exactly where your feet will take you.

Well, maybe not exactly, because you’ve never been to Taehyung’s house. But shoving on some sneakers and wrappin yourself up in a jacket, you figure you can find it. The island’s population was barely fifty, and all the houses were in the same sleepy neighborhood behind the main street.

It’s after knocking on exactly twenty-six doors that you realise maybe you should just ask if the stranger knew Taehyung’s address, rather than leaving when somebody unfamiliar answered the door. Shivering, even with the thick padded jacket you’re bundled in, you decide that the next house better be the last. If they didn’t know where Tae was, you could just come back and pick up where you left off tomorrow.

The street is so silent that your sneaker soles on the gravel fill the void entirely, amplified in the chilled night air. As you went on, and the moon passed the center of the sky, less and less people even opened their doors, some that did scolding you for waking them at such an hour. You’d feel bad, only your mind’s entirely locked on one single person.

The next house you reach is small, like most of them, but looks particularly well-groomed compared to most. A gleaming white postbox with the number 13B rests beside the driveway and footpath, both of which are bordered by lush, freshly-mowed grass, almost black in the darkness. Like a beacon, a single lamplight shines white-yellow above the front door, and your eyes ache with the warm brightness as you knock.

After fifteen or so seconds, you hear muffled movement inside, and straighten your back expectantly, mentally running through your speech. A light turns on behind lacy curtains to the left, and eventually a blurred silhouette approaches in the foyer, unlocking the door.

You put on your most sympathetic smile and take in a breath when it cracks, revealing an older woman in mismatching winter pyjamas. “I’m so sorry to wake you, ma’am, but I was wondering if you knew a boy called-” As your eyes search the old woman’s face, you freeze. You know those eyes. “K-Kim Taehyung?” you finish, blinking widely at the woman who somehow looks so familiar.

Rather than grumble about the time or huff, she smiles broadly, lips tugging up in a boxy smile. “Well, of course, he’s my grandson!” The smile drops, brows furrowing in concern. “Is he alright?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, eyes widening. “I- oh my goodness, I’ve heard so much about you,” you gush, her eyes crinkling fondly at your words. “Sorry, uh- yes, Taehyung is okay, I just-” You stop yourself, trying to steady your racing heart. “Mrs. Kim, you probably don’t even know me, but I did something bad and I need to make it right with him and I just… I think I’m in love with your grandson.” The moment you finish, something in your heart settles at the sound of the words lingering in the air.

She takes her time to reply, letting the words sink into her with a thoughtful sigh. “Darling, am I right in assuming your name is Y/n?”

You swallow quickly. “Yes, that’s right.”

She nods with a fond smile, a glimmer in her eye. “Then I think there’s something you should come see.”

“Inside?” After she waves you in and guides you to slip off your shoes and step into some house slippers instead, you find yourself awkwardly following her down a homely, perfumed hallway. “By the way, I’m so sorry for waking you.”

She waves it off before you even finish your sentence, sending you a kind wink. “No bother to me, lovie. I’m just glad you didn’t wake the dog.”

“The dog?” you mumble to yourself, before halting suddenly as Mrs. Kim pauses in front of a door, hand resting on the glass knob.

“My grandson’s been visiting me more lately, you see,” she explains, turning the knob to reveal a room in complete darkness, nothing inside visible. “He had so much to tell me and so much to do, became as hyper as a boy on Christmas morning! He told me not to go in here, but I couldn’t help myself.”

You step inside on her indication, breath caught in your throat as your eyes struggle to adjust. “I don’t understand…”

“Lovie, don’t worry about whatever went wrong with you two. You love him and… Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic, but it’s clear he loves you too.” And with that, she flicks the light on and the room comes into focus.

A barn. That’s the first thing you see. A painting of a bright, sprawling barn with a tiny dilapidated kennel in its shadow, wobbly letters spelling out YEONTAN. On the wall directly across from the door rests the original painting of The Barn at Icheon, close to a meter wide and half a metre high. The question of why he’d keep this prized possession of his in a random room barely bigger than a closet dies on your tongue as you turn, seeing the other walls.

A sketch of a bird you’d seen and wanted to show him, clumsily sketched on the back of a receipt with a pen from the lady at the grocery store checkout; a smudged map of your old neighborhood in Seoul that he’d made you draw on a napkin when you were explaining to him how far away the art supply store was; a tourism pamphlet that you and Taehyung had found on a park bench, drawing little Bigfoot silhouettes on the pictures of mountains and mermaids on the beaches. Every one of these thoughtless scrawls, careless scribbles and hurried drawings are here, each one framed or mounted like in a gallery, in order of the time they were made. You turn around slowly, barely noticing Taehyung’s grandmother in the doorway, giving you a knowing look. Finally, on the last wall, the trail of pieces disappear with a final creation, a canvas.

Feeling tears gather in your eyes, you look at the black smear of a mailbox, the wonky shops, the two tall trees incongruously planted in the middle of the street. And, in the bottom right corner painted meticulously in teal, the same teal as his hair, Y/n and Taehyung.

You let out a sob, turning back to Mrs. Kim. “Thank you for showing me this,” you make out in a voice thickened with tears, “but I really need to see him. Can you please give me his address?”

With a look of warm empathy, she steps forward to clasp your shoulders gently, maternally. “He told me about what happened, luvie. He doesn’t blame you.”

Trembling, you wipe the wetness from your cheeks and sniff. “He should,” you admit sullenly, “he’s too good for me. He’s been nothing but kind and patient and caring and all I’ve done is let him down.” Something occurs to you, and you frown in confusion. “Wait… Did he stop by and tell you?”

Her hands squeeze your upper arms comfortingly before dropping them and stepping back. “Oh honey,” she coos, and your heart stops as she steps aside out of the doorway, letting another, taller figure enter the room.

“Taehyung,” you whisper in shock, but before you can even comprehend his presence, his arms are around you, pulling you against his chest in a tight hug. You feel thick layers of pressure and worry evaporate off of you with a single moment, lungs filling with the familiar scent of him, body relaxing with his chin resting on your head and his arms cradling you. For what feels like a small eternity, you let yourself be fully enveloped in him, an indescribable catharsis of finally being in his arms once more. As your tears dry on the soft flanelette of his pyjama shirt and your fingers clutch at his back, you feel a thought transform into a certainty. “I love you, Taehyung,” you confess quietly, and his whole body shudders with a sob, arms tightening around you even more.

“I love you so much,” he confesses lowly, chest rumbling against your ear as he speaks. “And please don’t ever call yourself broken. You’re not. I didn’t love the art, I loved you. Because the art is a part of you Y/n, whether it’s perfect or not.”

“Tae,” you breathe shakily, his name the only word on your lips.

A soft voice comes from the hallway, Taehyung’s grandmother quietly excusing herself to “leave the two lovebirds alone.” You barely notice, lost in the way Taehyung gently rocks you back and forth in his arms, soothing you.

“I missed you,” you hear Taehyung whisper into your hair, nuzzling his nose gently.

Though you shiver at the feeling, you let out a teary laugh. “I saw you a day ago.”

“But it wasn’t the same then,” he insists softly, and a slow breath escapes you weakly. “It’s okay; you’re here now. You-” he breaks off to swallow, and when he speaks again his voice is much quieter, paper thin. “You won’t walk away again, will you?”

You answer by tipping your head up to look him in the eyes warmly, rising onto the tips of your toes so that you can reach his mouth, pressing a kiss against it tenderly. “Never,” you answer surely, “I promise.”

When he smiles, it’s beautiful - that big, boxy grin you saw that day on the dunes, that day you agreed to paint with him, and so many times since. But it never fails to make you melt, lips automatically returning the gesture. “Now,” he announces with a bemused lilt in his voice. “As much as I love this makeout session in my grandma’s closet, it is 2am. Shall we go get some rest?”

Sleep comes quickly once you have Taehyung’s arm around you and your face in the crook of his neck, and you let it take you, knowing you’ll have time to savor the feeling of sleeping beside him for many days to come.

You take him home the next day.

He hadn’t ever been to the bungalow before, but now there was something you desperately wanted him to see. You hadn’t cleaned up before you’d suddenly began roaming the streets of the island, and as he stares around at the chaos, you kind of wish you had. “It’s pretty messy, but…”

“No,” he deflects, mouth parted and eyes wide in wonder, “don’t apologise, this is- wow.” He steps further into the room, stepping over discarded paint tubes, dried canvases and uncleaned brushes. He takes a moment to take in each work. Every single one of them a snapshot of him. “How- When did you do all this?”

You bite your lip, loitering in the entryway. “From when I got back that night until I decided to come looking for you.”

He furrows his brow, fingers gently skimming the top edge of the painting that rests on the easel in the center of the room, the first one you’d painted. His teal growouts, his uneven eyes, the moles dotted so intricately on his face. Your Tae. “You haven’t been able to pick up a brush in months, and then...all this?”

“This was easy,” you say with a shake of your head, “it was easy because it was you.”

He turns, then, glancing at you over his shoulder with eyes brimming with affection. “You really love me.”

A disbelieving grin stretches across your lips. “The midnight confession didn’t make it clear enough?”

“It’s not that, I- I can read it,” he explains, stepping back over to you. “The Barn at Icheon is filled with loneliness, and a lot of your other works talk about fear or curiosity or patience. But this is all love. And it’s me.”

“It’s you,” you confirm with a soft smile, “I love you, Taehyung. So much.”

His eyes light up, then, a cheeky glimmer as his hand reaches out, gripping your elbow and giving it a playful shake. “If I’m your mojo then, you should paint something else today,” he bargains, “I wanna see your genius in action. The black mailbox sadly doesn’t qualify.”

Your mouth drops open in mock outrage, shoving his chest with a whine. “That’s not fair! You said you liked it better black.” Looking around at the disaster zone of the bungalow, you sigh. “I also don’t think I have any paintable surfaces left. I missed the housekeeper so I’ll probably get a fine as it is.”

“Use me, then.”

“Haven’t I painted you enough?” you fire back, but Taehyung just shakes his head emphatically.

“Paint on me. Here,” he says, and his hands leave yours in order to find the hem of his shirt, peeling his shirt off and tossing it into a far end of the room. “A big old waterfall, right down the middle. Rock pool at the bottom.”

“Stop it!” You blush fiercely, hands coming up to cover your cheeks as your eyes feast on his chest, the smooth planes and taut skin, a beautiful golden bronze. “Taehyung…”

For the first time, he doesn't press further. Instead, his shoulders sag, teasing facade slipping. "I'm sorry, you don't have to. I'll stop."

Inexplicably, you find yourself wanting to prove you aren't fragile anymore, unbroken just as he'd insisted you were last night. "I can do it," you protest, stepping away from him to fossick for some usable brushes. "Lie down, then."

Taehyung freezes. "Uh. Yeah, yeah, okay, gimme one sec, I'll just-" With the enthusiasm of a boy having his first kiss, Taehyung hunkers down on the newspaper-covered carpet, shuffling some tools and tubes and palettes out of the way. He looks beautiful like that, chest rising and falling shakily with anticipation, warm brown eyes widened on you. "You don't have to paint a waterfall, you know," he assures hurriedly. "Whatever you do will be perfect."

Heart leaping at his words, you feel a streak of confidence deep inside you, and instead of sitting beside him, you straddle his hips with a newly-filled palette in one hand and a brush in the other. "I want you to guess," you announce from above him, eying his chest and wondering how the colours might fill the space. "Guess what I'm painting. It'll be fun!"

Taehyung's throat bobs with a harsh swallow, nodding quickly. "O-okay, yeah, let's do that," he agrees weakly.

You smile warmly, and begin dipping into a forest green, coating the tips of the bristles. Bending down, you mark a single point of green on the top of his chest, just below his collarbone. The moment the cool paint touches his skin, Taehyung shudders, eyes falling shut. "Okay?" you check. He nods again, chest heaving, and so you continue tracking colour, gradual swoops downwards. Each drag of the brush makes Taehyung's breath catch, and you watch as goosebumps break out on his bare arms.

"Feels nice," he mumbles, lips barely moving like he didn't even intend to speak.

Your lip twitches, but still you focus, topping up the brush whenever the lines became too spotty. After trailing down to just above the level of his belly button, you raise the brush again, starting a new form on the other side of his chest, this one smaller. "Any idea what it is?" you question, but Taehyung just sighs airily.

Once you're finished with the forest green, you wipe your brush off on the edge of your palette and go for a deeper shade, pressing in shadows under each swipe of green. It's once you're working on the bottom half of the second structure that you begin to feel a hardness between your legs, the point where you're straddling him. Shocked, you look up, but Taehyung's covered his eyes with the back of his hand, face turned to the side with reddened cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he croaks out once he feels you stop. "Didn't mean to."

With a fond smile, you lean down, careful not to smudge the wet paint, and gently kiss the corner of his mouth. His fingers twitch and his lips part in surprise, but he otherwise stays still. "It's okay," you soothe, "if it's any consolation, I feel the same way right now."

Like a switch is flipped, Taehyung lifts his hand and tucks his chin, looking down at where the two of you are pressed together, then back up at your face. "Seriously?"

You laugh warmly. "Taehyung, I love you and you're currently lying beneath me, half-naked, writhing every time the brush touches you. Of course I'm turned on."

His cheeks flush hotter and he bites his lip. "You can- you can keep going. Keep painting."

Obediently continuing to fill in the shadow across his stomach, you grin. "Still no guesses on what I'm painting? I'm almost done, you know."

He cranes his neck down further, but the angle prevents him from seeing much. "Some-something green? I'll be honest with you, my focus really isn't-fuck!"

You suppress a laugh as he shudders, hands reaching out to clutch at your pants. Having finished the shadow, you'd mixed a paler green to add some light points on the tops, and one of those swipes had just happened to land across the top of one of his nipples, already stiff from arousal. You continue dipping colour here and there, smirking at the paint that covers the dark brown of his right nipple.

"You tease," Taehyung complains with furrowed brows. "Fuck, that felt good. Please tell me you need to paint the other one too."

You hum in mock thought, transferring your brush to the hand with the palette so that you can reach out, swiping a thumb over the sensitive flesh. Taehyung's whole body jerks, his hips beginning to grind under you, the dull friction pulling a pleasured sigh from your lips that's blessedly drowned by his drawn-out moan. "Why the pout, Tae? This was your idea."

"Next time I'm holding the paintbrush," he promises, hips moving slowly beneath you, eyes lidded as they focus on you, "then you won't be so cocky."

His words send a hot rush of arousal through you, and you rock your hips unconsciously, swallowing a moan. "Next time," you repeat breathily, "but for now I'm almost done."

It only takes a few more touches of pale green, followed by two vertical strokes of brown, before you're putting your tools aside, and standing up off of him.

Taehyung groans in complaint when your hips leave him, his casual grey sweatpants tented and a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Where are you going?"

"Come see," you guide, tugging at his hand. "I have a mirror in my room."

He gets up, palming himself with a pout before following you down the hall, pulled along by your interlocked hands. Once in front of the mirror, Taehyung lifts his eyebrows at just how wrecked he looks. Bottom lip swollen from biting at it, hair mussed and sticking up, and a burst of green slowly drying on his torso. "It's...trees?"

"It's us," you explain softly, "like that painting we did together the first time." From beside him, you reach around to gently tap each figure, two tall fir trees, the one on his right taller than the one on his left. "One for you and one for me."

Before you can pull your arm back, his hand comes up to flatten yours against his chest, hands going cold where the paint is still wet in places.

"Tae, you'll smudge it."

"Y/n," he said slowly, head turning to look at you, eyes brimming with affection, "will you let me make love to you?"

Your breath catches, and rather than trusting your voice, you nod wordlessly.

With a deep exhale, he bends down and joins your lips with his, a hand coming up to bury itself in your hair, keeping you close. His lips are hot against yours, passionate and wanting, and your stomach warms with desire. Clumsily, your fingers find the hem of your shirt, lifting it as far as you can before you have to break apart from him, flinging it away once it clears your head.

"The bed?" Taehyung pants in the moments his mouth is free, and you nod, shucking off your jeans before getting onto the mattress in just your bra and panties. "God, you're beautiful," he chants, "how did I get so lucky?"

He slips out of his sweatpants and joins you sitting on the edge, but your eyes linger on his face, the way his eyes soften and crinkle when they meet yours. "I'm the lucky one," you reply simply.

You shiver when a large palm runs up your bare thigh, warm and grounding. "Can I go down on your first?" he asks with a pleading gaze.

You laugh weakly. "I'm definitely the lucky one." In confirmation, you lie yourself back, scooting so your head rests on the pillows.

Hand now having slid down your leg to rest over your ankle, he wraps his fingers around and lifts it off the bed delicately, your knee crooking and legs parting. Smoothly, he slips himself in the gap, lying on his stomach and letting your raised leg rest on his shoulders. With eyes heavy on you, he leans forward slowly and licks a strip over your clothed pussy, a dull kiss of friction across your clit. You groan, head lolling back, and he takes it as his initiative to continue, sucking at the juices that have dampened your panties until the whole crotch is wet, your thighs shaking slightly with your increased sensitivity.

"Tae, please," you breath out, "I wan' more."

A finger slips below the hem of your panties, just over your hipbone. "Should we take these off?" You nod with a needy whimper, lifting your hips to give him easier access.

He sits up to slide them down your legs, calmly spreading your thighs again when you get the self-conscious urge to close them. With only your bra on, you feel so vulnerable, but rather than scaring you, you feel at peace, so happy to be having this moment with Taehyung.

When he shuffles back into place again, he takes his time, his warm breath tickling your inner thighs. At your needy wiggle of your hips, he chuckles and rubs soothingly at the top of your leg where it's crooked over his shoulder, finally dipping his head again to lick at you.

He starts out maddeningly light, the very tip of his tongue flicking slowly over your clit, tentatively venturing out to dip between your folds. You reach out for his hand, needing something to anchor you, and he smiles against you as he interlocks your fingers, keeping you grounded.

"So good, Tae," you encourage, moaning openly when his tongue trails lower and dips between your folds, over your entrance. "Fuck, so good."

Rather than answer verbally, Taehyung doubles his efforts and begins to speed up, lapping at your core and suckling your clit.

Every breath is a moan or a whimper, overtaken by pleasure, but you let yourself drown in it, letting Taehyung eat you out like a man starved. With one hand on your upper thigh and one entwined with yours, he's got no fingers free to play with you, but expertly he brings you to your peak with just his tongue, thrusting it inside you as his nose nudges at your clit.

When you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, your moans heighten and your back begins to arch, hips grinding against him desperately. Taehyung chuckles, the sound vibrating against you and making you shudder, and his hand slips high to press against your waist instead, holding you in place for him. Your thighs tense around him, praises and curses and his name spilling from your lips incoherently.

It's one last nibble at your clit, pulling it into his mouth and dragging his tongue over it, your vision whites out with the force of your orgasm, jerking beneath him and crying out wantonly, overcome with pleasure. He works you through it diligently, groaning as you come down from your high with weak shivers, his tongue never ceasing until you push at his head from oversensitivity.

He lets your leg down carefully, kissing his way up your bare stomach, the swells of your breasts and your throat until his lips are on yours and you can taste yourself on him, feel the ends of his hair tickling against your cheeks.

"That was incredible, Tae," you pant out, feeling boneless beneath him as he takes charge of the kiss, tugging at your lips and licking into your mouth. "I need you," he gasps, and you moan throatily when his clothed crotch grinds against your bare core, the fabric of his underwear catching on your sensitive clit. He's hard, probably painfully so, and all you want is to feel him inside you.

Desperate, your fingers slip behind you, arching your back so that you can deftly release the clasp of your bra, pulling it off hastily before reaching for his underwear. "I need you too, Tae," you plea, "please hurry."

His fingers, slightly cool from the air, slide down your stomach and between your thighs, making you jump as he slips two inside, thrusting them slowly. You're still sensitive, and his mouth falls to your ear, hushing you and pressing encouraging kisses to your temple as you whimper. "Doing so well for me," he praises, "just gotta make sure you're ready, okay?"

"O-okay," you make out, sucking in a breath when he pulls out and presses a third finger inside you, picking up his pace. Gradually, the prickling overstimulation warms into pleasure again, and you rock your hips to seek more friction, free hand coming up to wrap around his neck and shoulders, holding him close.

With no bra on, your full chest is flat against his, and as the paint dries it drags over your nipples, making you arch your back, seeking out the friction.

The warmth between your legs tightens with the extra stimulation, and your breath begins to catch, feeling another orgasm oncoming.

"Close?" Taehyung murmurs in your ear as he widens the gaps between his fingers inside you, scissoring to stretch you even more. You nod hastily, moans getting stuck in your throat, pushed out with every gasped breath. Taehyung hums in response, and you whimper when you feel his fingers slipping out of you completely. Before you can protest, the blunt head of his cock slips between your sopping folds, Taehyung running it up and down to coat himself in your slick.

"Fuck, yes, please Tae, I'm ready," you babble, legs lifting to wrap around his hips, attempting to pull him in closer.

He chuckles, but it's cut off prematurely by a hissed breath of pleasure as he lines up and begins to sink his length into you, a delicious feeling of fullness after his fingers left you so empty. Taehyung enters you slowly, letting you adjust, and you feel completely enveloped by him; his voice in your ear, his hand in yours, his cock inside you.

"Need you, Tae," you whine once he stills, bottomed out, "please move."

"Are you ready?" You wiggle your hips with a groaned yes, arm tightening around him as he pulls back. He stops when just his head still rests inside you, pauses for a moment with a moan as you clench around him, and then plunges back in with one slick thrust.

You cry out, satisfied smile stretching tiredly across your face as he finally begins a steady rhythm, favoring deeper thrusts that make your toes curl. "Yes, Tae, so good!"

"God, you're still so tight," he groans throatily, "so good for me."

On the edge before, you find yourself close after only a few minutes, and you tell him with a shaky breath. Taehyung lets out a relieved exhale as he continues to thrust into you. "Thank fuck," he huffs out, panting a word at a time, "I'm not gonna last, you drive me crazy."

You press your head against his, nuzzling at it as you unwrap your arm from around his shoulders, instead seeking out your clit for the needed friction to push you over the edge. The added stimulation has you clenching, and Taehyung swears desperately, his pace picking up but shuddering as he gets close.

The two of you pant loudly into the otherwise silent room, filling each others' ears with whimpered moans and slurred praises, until you finally catch the tip of your peak, and with one final drag of his cock inside you, you're falling apart, not suddenly and violently like the first time, but rather a slow, hot wave of pleasure that works its way out from your core, down to your toes and fingertips, clenching tightly around Taehyung until he curses and spills inside you, shuddering through his release.

"I love you so much," you whisper once you come down from your high, a contented exhaustion seeping into your bones.

"I love you too," Taehyung says with a final press of his lips on your temple.

---

"This one's gorgeous. I love the broad lines on the ocean compared to the texture of rocks on the shore. This is at the island, you say?"

You hum in confirmation, smiling at your old friend. "You should see, it, Joonie. There's this little cluster of houses and shops right in the middle but the rest is just open nature. Forests, beaches, everything in the middle. I go there every year."

Kim Namjoon, Director at the Leeum Museum in Seoul and avid nature buff, takes one last look at the landscape canvas and grins. "Ah, twist my arm..." You follow him as he moves down the line of mounted canvases, stopping at a familiar portrait. He furrows his brows and cocks his head. "I feel like I've seen this guy before, something about the face... He didn't have green in his hair though, I must be confused."

You laugh at your friend, spying a shock of red through the swathes of people. "You have seen him before," you explain, catching the figure's eye, "you would have seen him here tonight."

In front of you, Namjoon raises his brows. "Oh, really? Who is he, then?"

Over Namjoon's shoulder, you watch Taehyung approach, turning heads with his scarlet dye. He gives you a wink, and you grin back. "He's my husband."

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