#like. if something is killing something at alarming rates we should care!

[jeonsweetpea]

Moonstruck (14)

Werewolf & Vampire Hybrid!AU, Supernatural!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader | Werewolf!Taehyung x Hybrid!Reader (ft. BTS)

genre: angst, e2l, supernatural, thriller, slow burn

rating: mature

description: Ari wants to see who truly loves you by pitting your lovers against each other.

word count: 6.3k

warnings: contains SPOILERS!!! kidnapping, cussing, fight scenes, betrayals, blood, dark magic, attempted assault, (temporary) deaths, 

a/n: The series is almost over! Just one chapter and I hope you’re enjoying reading as much as I am writing. Hope to hear your thoughts. Thanks for sticking around so long and giving my series a chance. <333 It's also on AO3 if you prefer reading over there!

Moonstruck Series Masterlist

“It’s a pity our own granddaughter has to die,” a gentle voice said. 

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing the old couple from before. An immediate realization dawned upon you as you noticed the chains, bounding you in the shape of an X to the cold stone wall. These were no ordinary chains—every wriggle, every struggle, intensified the pain. Wolfsbane and vervain were laced into the links, sending stinging sensations to your wrists and ankles. Your body felt groggy, so it was certain you were injected with something beforehand.

Last thing you recalled was falling into the frozen lake. The freezing water filling up your lungs… oh right. Jimin had killed you too. Just your luck.

Looking around, it was evident this wasn’t the lake. But it wasn’t the underground cellar or cave in the mountains. Where exactly were you?

“Don’t get soft on her now. She’s awake,” a gruff voice responded. 

“Granddaughter?” The question hung in the air, escaping your lips in a hushed whisper. Another whiff of your mother’s familiar perfume triggered a sudden realization. “You’re…” 

“Your grandparents? Yes, dear. It’s sad we had to meet this way, but we had to make sure you died once these stupid 100 days were over,” your grandfather replied. “Frankly, we should take matters into our own hands.”

“We can’t. We don’t have the stake and that witch girl is frightening. They’ll kill her at the end of the day anyway,” your grandmother assured. “Besides, it’s nice not having to get our hands dirty.”

“100 days?” you breathed, unable to form a coherent sentence. It was difficult battling the drowsy state forced on you.

“God, she sounds delirious. Yes. Because you sired that other abomination and Jimin and that Ari girl are so insistent in breaking that bond first before killing you.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter,” your grandfather retorted with his arms crossed. “As long as you’re dead in the end, all the hybrids you’ve sired will cease to exist too.”

The weight of this revelation jolted you out of your drowsy trance, and you shot them an alarmed glare.

“What did you say?”

“Oh? You didn’t know? When you create those repulsive hybrids and sire them, you form a sireline. It’s like a family tree that never goes away. So if you die, then all the non-Original hybrids you created will die too. Even if the sire bond is broken.”

“Is that true?”

"We didn't dedicate our lives to learning everything about you just to lie now."

"Then... does Jimin know about this? He'd never let Jungkook die," you questioned, sensing the answer in the subtle withdrawal of their body language.

“Of course he doesn’t know. He’s too hellbent on killing you to realize he’s gonna kill his lover too,” your grandmother sneered. She approached you and bent down eye-level, analyzing your features carefully. “Remarkable. You look just like your mother.”

You spat in her face and she wiped it away immediately, taking a few steps back. She chuckled at your feisty behavior, a dark amusement in her eyes.

“Mom will never forgive you for doing this!” you exclaimed.

“Do you think we care? We disowned her when she eloped. Who would’ve thought she was pregnant with you…”

“You’re my family. Why does it matter so damn much to you?” you asked, your voice teetering between anger and disappointment.

“Blame your mother and father. They were never supposed to fall in love, much less have a child. Your existence is a loop in Mother Nature and unnatural!” your grandpa exclaimed. “It took us an eternity to track you down. Imagine our surprise when Jung Dawon showed up to the hospital where we worked.”

You held your breath. “She was your patient?”

“I think her name is Jiwoo now, honey,” your grandma reminded with a pat on her husband’s shoulder.

“Ah, right, right. What would I do without you?”

The two of them started to snuggle their noses together, their display of affection making you want to vomit. 

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! You two treated Jiwoo during her coma?!” you asked.

“Yes. That’s how we crossed paths with Jimin, H.O.P.E.—shame they’ve disbanded now thanks to your professors, no doubt. And then the Jungs had to die or Jimin wouldn’t have upheld his deal in the bargain,” your grandmother informed.

“You killed Hoseok’s parents… You deserve hell.” A past memory suddenly resurfaced to the forefront of your mind. “Years ago, Dad said you reached out. Said you apologized and wanted to meet me. Was that all a lie?”

Her gaze met yours, an expression of feigned pity playing on her face as she nodded, and your grandfather, reveling in your naivety, let out a cynical chuckle.

“You’re lucky your mother was so stubborn and unwilling to meet us. She even went so far as to make you move homes time and time again. It’s like she knew we had cruel intentions,” the old woman remarked.

“Cruel? Is that what you call it? This is diabolical, I deserve to live just as much as you do! You call my existence unnatural, which is hypocritical considering none of us are human!”

“She talks too much,” the old man interjected.

“Yeah, let’s shut her up.”

“No, no! I’m going to reveal everything! You won’t get away with—”

It was futile. Your grandmother held your head still while your grandfather retrieved a ball gag from a nearby table. Your nose picked up wafts of vervain and wolfsbane, causing you to whimper. As the straps secured around your face, your skin ignited with pain, and you couldn't contain the sobs that escaped.

Your relatives walked away from you once the task was complete, heading for the stairs. The last words you heard were from your grandmother.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, darling.”

Meanwhile, back at the dimly lit cellar…

Cage 1: Jungkook, Taehyung, Sunghyun

In the first cage, Jungkook stood tall, his back against the bars. Taehyung was standing on the opposite side, muscles tense, while Sunghyun minded his business and rested on the cot in the middle of the two. 

Cage 2: Namjoon and Yoongi

In the adjacent cage, Namjoon lay unconscious, sprawled on the cold floor. Yoongi sat with his back against the cage, observing their surroundings with a calculating gaze.

Cage 3: Jin, Hoseok, Jiwoo

The third cage housed Jin, who gazed through the bars with a mix of determination and worry. Hoseok stood tall with his sister Jiwoo sitting beside him, a protective arm wrapped around her. 

No one dared to utter a word. Each person bore the weight of their own struggles in the metallic confines, the atmosphere oppressive and thick with tension. The silence broke when Taehyung got down on all fours.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook questioned.

“I’m getting out of here. [Y/N]’s in danger.” He closed his eyes, narrowing his focus while using his werewolf instincts.

“Turning won’t work. These cages were built to withstand supernaturals,” Jungkook recalled, his arms crossed in a display of frustration. Taehyung, irritated by the diversion of his focus, furrowed his eyebrows and then opened his eyes. 

“Well, it worked for Hoseok. Didn’t it?” he declared as he stood up, hands planted firmly on his hips.

“I was set up by you and Jimin! You tainted my food!” Hoseok argued. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t your lover over there?” Taehyung smirked, his words a venomous tease.

“Go to hell, Taehyung!” Yoongi exclaimed.

Chaos reigned as accusations flew, each member of the imprisoned group hurling blame and calling out their short-comings. Only did the sound of the creaking cellar door garnered their attention. The unexpected arrival turned out to be Ari, who was descending down the staircase in a frantic scramble. 

“Oh my god, what have I done? You all have to get out of here!”

A collective confusion lingered, yet none dared to question Ari's sudden change of heart. Retrieving the keys from her pocket, she approached the nearest cage—Taehyung's. Nervousness interfered with her attempt to unlock the padlock properly.

“Come on, Ari!” Taehyung yelled.

“I’m trying here!” 

In an unexpected twist, Ari fell to her knees, clutching her chest and breathing heavily. She let out a pained groan, followed by an unsettling expulsion of water. “Oh… that can’t be good.”

“What the hell is happening to you?” Professor Jin asked, gripping the cage bars for a closer look. “The dark magic is killing you!”

“It’s not that. Jimin’s trapped in the frozen lake. He’s drowning and dying over and over.” Struggling to stand, Ari's focus remained on the stubborn padlock. “I’m running out of time. She’s going to come back soon.”

Moments later, the padlock clicked open. She swung the cage door open, urging the boys to escape.

“Where do you think you’re going?” A dark, menacing voice emanated from Ari's lips, her face contorting as if an evil force sought to break free.

"Let them go!" The familiar, authoritative tone sounded like the Ari they knew, yet beneath the surface, a fierce battle between the light and darkness waged.

“No. You’re too weak to stop me!” 

Ari threw up some more water as she collapsed to the floor with a thud. She reached her hand out to the boys and whispered. “Run…”

Her hand dropped and she was unconscious. The shock of it all left everyone frozen when her eyes suddenly fluttered open, pitch black, and she scrambled to her feet at lightning speed. 

Taehyung, Jungkook, and Sunghyun rushed upstairs but it was too late. Ari used dark magic to telekinetically rip out Sunghyun’s heart, permanently killing him. His remaining corpse fell down stairs as Jiwoo shrieked. Hoseok shielded his sister away from the sight in a tight embrace, trying his best to calm her down.

“Now… you two. Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. We still have to go talk to your beloved [Y/N].”

She knocked them out with the snap of her fingers before teleporting them to your location.

You gave into exhaustion and surrendered to a nap for however long possible. Nothing mattered anymore. You were trapped and because of your reckless plan, so was everyone else. Your grandparents wanted you dead and at this point, you yearned for an end. 

What stirred you from your slumber was the sound of groaning. You slowly opened your eyes and saw Taehyung and Jungkook lying on their stomachs a few feet away. They were chained to the floor like animals. 

Jungkook was first to fully regain his senses, sitting up right away at the sight of you. “[Y/N]! You’re alive—oh fuck. What did they do to you?”

The ball gag and restraints didn’t aid in your efforts to communicate as the only sounds you could make were whimpers. Taehyung, driven by desperation, got on his knees and tugged at his chains madly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you out. It’ll be okay!”

In the heart of the room, Ari manifested from the ceiling and floated down like an angel. A dark one, that is.  

“What is it about you, hmm? You have not only one but TWO suitors who are willing to do whatever it takes to save you. To love you. Meanwhile, I can’t even have one…”

She landed gently on the ground as she circled around Jungkook, eyes locked into yours. “You said Jimin never loved me, but what about you? Do you really think Jungkook loves you? He admitted feelings for another.”

You bit your lip to fight back tears. This was too painful to deal with.

“[Y/N], don’t listen to her. Listen to me,” Jungkook begged. The sadness within your gaze caused a pang in his heart. “This is the truth. There were times I spent the night at his dorm because I couldn’t stand watching you with Taehyung. I got to bond with him on a deeper level. He was the first friend I had outside of you that didn’t judge me. Didn’t make me feel like a loser. Like I was weak.”

“So you kiss him,” Taehyung remarked. “A little heart-to-heart and you’re all tongues.”

“He kissed me!” Jungkook snapped at him. He refocused on you. “During the sparring session. I was trying to get information out of him. Promise! Of course I felt something; it was a kiss. It surprised me. But that doesn’t mean he’s the one I love.”

“Excuses, excuses,” the werewolf said with a dismissive hand gesture. 

“You don’t get to judge something you don’t understand. The sire bond affects emotions and it’s almost broken. I’ve been living my life through a filter! I don’t know what’s what anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. You didn’t believe her when it mattered most. Nothing’s worse than not being believed. She must’ve been crushed.”

Taehyung’s right. You were.

“You watch your mouth!”

“Or what? We’re all chained because that bitch of a witch can’t stand the fact her boyfriend is in love with you! This is all your fault!”

Ari cackled and rushed over to Taehyung’s side like a devil whispering in his ear. “That’s right. Rile him up.”

“Get the hell away from me,” Taehyung huffed in disgust. “You killed Sunghyun.”

Your eyes widened, devastated at this information. Professor Jin was right. The Ari you knew was long gone; she would never murder someone in cold blood. 

Your ex-best friend paced back and forth and then shrugged. “Oh, please. You don’t care about him.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you near me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re not dead. Sunghyun was asking for it by trying to escape. And he showed Jungkook my journal.”

Jungkook’s ears perked up at this. Ari smirked and continued, “Yeah. I know about it. My old self had a tendency to jot everything down and then spelled her drawers, so I wouldn’t be able to see it. That is, until you and Sunghyun used his amulet to bypass it. Thanks for that.”

She snapped her fingers and the journal in question appeared in her hands. She flipped it open and hummed in amusement. 

“Hmm… wow, I really did not hold back. Lots of juicy information in here. But,” she closed the book, “she didn’t write everything down. You really want to know the truth, Jungkook? The whole truth?”

“What is your end goal, huh? Where’s Jimin?” Jungkook questioned. Ari replied with nothing but a smirk. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Let me talk to him. I can stop all of this. He can have me as long as he lets [Y/N] go.”

Ari grabbed his neck in a chokehold and he wheezed, powerless against her unexpected strength. “You really are stupid, aren’t you? Jimin is mine and mine only. There was a time when I’d share him, but not anymore.”

She released him with a fierce anger, and he coughed, struggling to regain composure on all fours.

“Turn,” she commanded and Jungkook snapped his neck up to look at her. 

“What?”

“It’s the last day of the sire bond. You have to turn one more time, right? So do it.”

“You’re delusional. I’m not doing anything you say.”

“Come on. Amuse me. You might be able to save your precious [Y/N] by turning.”

“No.”

Ari fumed at his response, kicking him in the stomach and forcing him to fall on his back. She stomped on him multiple times, your muffled screams rendered useless. The air was charged with tension as Ari spoke, her voice tinged with frustration and jealousy.

"Do you have any idea how infuriating it is, Jungkook? Watching you and her, with your damned sire bond, risking everything for each other. It's sickening!"

Jungkook grabbed her foot to stop her from crushing his ribs any further. “Ari… this bond is beyond our control. It’s not something we asked for.”

Ari scoffed at his response. “So why won’t you turn? End it. End this stupid connection you have with her. Show everyone your love was conditional, a hoax!”

She left his aching body and went up to you, a clawed hand in front of your face with a malevolent black glow. 

“Turn or I’ll kill her,” she threatened, the White Oak Stake presenting herself in her grasp. Panic gripped you at the sight of the weapon. “That’s right, bestie. This is the one and only stake that can kill an original hybrid.”

“Don’t lay a finger on her!” Taehyung roared. She turned around, tapping the stake against her palm in a rhythmic cadence, reminiscent of a stern ruler used for chastising children in the past.

“Ah, yes. The other lover is vying for your affection. God, you just can’t catch a break with these two!”

“This doesn’t have to end this way. We both want the same thing. I’ll talk to Jimin, we’ll figure something out. As long as Jungkook is out of the picture, it’ll be worth it! We can still be a team.”

“Team?” Jungkook questioned. 

“We?” She let out a chuckle. “There is no ‘we.’ You and Jimin have dictated everything from the start. He strung me along like a fool. All I wanted was his love. I was willing to risk it all only for him to want someone else and cast me aside entirely!”

She faced Jungkook. “My journal revealed all of Jimin’s plans, but not Taehyung’s. I think you’ll find this interesting.”

Taehyung's gaze narrowed, a subtle intensity flickering in his eyes as he shook his head slowly.

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“Where do I start? Oh. Taehyung is the one that ordered H.O.P.E to attack you that dreaded day. You know, the day that started it all.”

Ari reveled in the chaos she had orchestrated, the atmosphere thick with tension and despair. Jungkook's eyes burned with fury as he faced Taehyung, betrayal and anger intertwining in the lines of his furrowed brow.

“You planned this? The attack, the kidnapping?”

Taehyung, unapologetic, met Jungkook's accusatory gaze with a stoic expression.

“[Y/N] could’ve died! We all could’ve!” Jungkook exclaimed. 

“The plan was only for you to die. That way [Y/N] would find comfort in me and only me. But then you survived. Stupid sire bond.”

“Oh yeah, the whole scavenger hunt thing was also Taehyung’s idea. Jimin pretended to be a hunter to kidnap [Y/N],” Ari added. Jungkook’s confusion was blatant.

“What on earth could that possibly accomplish for you, Tae?”

The werewolf shrugged, reluctant to answer. Ari, the puppeteer of chaos, was more than willing. 

“He was betting on [Y/N] saving him with her blood. Then he was going to kill himself to become sired to her like you.”

“You crazy bastard!” Jungkook roared, chains rattling as he attempted to pounce on Taehyung but couldn’t. “All of this pain and suffering, all for some twisted desire to be bound to her?" This isn’t love, it’s obsession! You don’t deserve her!”

Taehyung held his ground. “And you do? I actually want to be bound to her for life. All you’ve ever done was taken her for granted! Just turn already!”

“If I do turn, it’s to rip you to shreds!”

“Yes~, yes~!” Ari cried. “Indulge in your anger! Let the beast out!”

She ripped his clothing off with no remorse, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. Seeing him stripped against his will left him vulnerable and the humiliation almost killed him. He punched the ground, the concrete pulverized into tiny pieces and his knuckles bloody. 

Clapping eagerly, Ari urged for him to turn. You hated seeing him in such a vulnerable state. When your gazes met, there was nothing but shame and heartbreak. You didn’t know what to expect once the 100th day arrived, but this definitely was not it.

“Maybe one isn’t enough,” Ari remarked, striding over to Taehyung’s side and tearing his clothes to shreds. “You turn too. Fight each other. You want Jungkook dead and [Y/N] all for yourself, right?”

“Fuck you, I’m not some pawn for you to toy with!”

“Aw, come on. I’m actually helping you out here. I know tonight’s not a full moon, so it’ll hurt like a bitch. But don’t you want [Y/N] to see how sexy it is for you to turn anyway? You said you love her.”

She sauntered back over to you, the White Oak Stake dangerously close to your chest. 

“Either you guys turn and battle each other or this goes through her heart.”

She casted a spell and had the stake hovering in front of your chest and the boys roared with anger, but had no choice. The air thickened with an impending sense of dread. You, restrained and unable to look away, watched as Taehyung and Jungkook grappled with the impending transformation, a painful struggle that unfolded before your eyes.

The first tremors wracked Taehyung's form as his body contorted with the agony of shifting. Bones cracked and muscles rippled beneath his skin, the visceral sounds of transformation echoing in the confined space. His anguished groans reverberated through the cold, unforgiving walls. Without a full moon, this process was far more difficult to go through, but he persevered thanks to the emotional intensity of his love for you.

Beside him, Jungkook's transformation mirrored Taehyung's torment. The once-human features distorted, replaced by the primal visage of a werewolf emerging from the depths within. Claws unsheathed and black fur sprouted, a physical manifestation of the feral power coursing through him.

You’ve watched countless transformations over the years, but none were as painful as this one. It was as if your heart was being incinerated, the connection between you and Jungkook severed. A part of you cherished the pain because it’d be the last time you two would feel each other’s emotions. 

Ari watched with a sadistic smile, leaning close to your ear. 

“This is fun, isn’t it? Love versus obsession. Or maybe love and obsession are the same. They’re trying so hard to save your life.”

Your silence earned a “tsk” from her.

“Don’t feel like talking?” she taunted. “Well get this. Remember how my grandmother was the one who taught me magic? She visits me in my dreams sometimes. Do you want to know what she told me?”

Jungkook and Taehyung’s combined screams of agony made it difficult to focus on her voice, but she leaned in even closer, whispering ever so softly.

“My grandma delved into dark magic once. Your father made a deal with her. He paid her to make your mother fertile. With you.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You clenched your fists in disbelief and whined, not wanting to hear more.

“That’s right. You were conceived with dark magic. You always told me it seemed like the universe was against you and now you know why. Darkness follows you wherever you go; you’re not meant to be happy. That’s how you were able to use my dark potions. That darkness lives inside you. And it’s your father’s fault.”

Tears welled up in your eyes before cascading down your face. She giggled at your suffering, adding salt to the gaping wound in your heart.

“It must hurt to know every single person in your life has betrayed you in some way. You have no one left.”

The transformations were nearing completion. Sounds of bones snapping and muscles contorting filled the basement, a symphony of agony that echoed the torment of Taehyung and Jungkook’s dual existence. Taehyung's body convulsed, his once-human features now obscured by the emerging gray fur, streaked with haunting shades of white. Jungkook's transformation mirrored the shadows, his form engulfed by inky blackness as he fought against the pain that laced every fiber of his being.

As the final moments of the agonizing metamorphosis approached, the chains binding them groaned under the strain, holding firm until the transformation reached its peak. 

“One more thing,” Ari whispered. “The stake has been spelled to kill Jungkook once he finishes transforming.”

“No!!!” you screamed, although muffled. “Jungkook stop!!!”

Jungkook, having more experience, finished his transformation before Taehyung’s. Ari turned to you with a wicked smile. 

“Enjoy the show, [Y/N].”

You watched in despair as the spelled stake launched through the air straight for Jungkook when Jimin emerged from the shadows, his silhouette cutting through the dim light. His eyes, determined and resolute, locked onto the impending threat aimed at Jungkook. He leaped in the way, the impact of the enchanted stake against Jimin's body resonated through the basement. 

His shoulder had been hit, but it was not a fatal wound. In the stunned silence that followed, Jimin's eyes met Jungkook's with an unspoken understanding. 

The next few minutes were a blur. Taehyung completed his transformation and was liberated from his chains seconds after Jungkook. Ari, relentless in her pursuit, launched another attack at Jungkook, but Jimin intercepted with a spell of his own. You squinted and recognized the blinding glow of Sunghyun’s amulet around his neck. 

The black wolf and Jimin united forces and the two of them battled Ari together. 

Meanwhile, Taehyung sprinted to you, using his teeth to pry the chains from your limbs. As the metal links fell away, you fell on top of the beast’s body. Using his agile speed,. Taehyung bolted out of the building as fast as possible, leaving Jungkook, Jimin, and Ari behind to hash things out.

You clung onto his back as he navigated through a common neighborhood with the veil of nighttime, your fingers tightly entangled in his fur. Though a bit groggy, you could feel whatever was in your system was wearing off gradually. It dawned on you that you were held captive in the Jung family’s old house, specifically the secret basement Professor Jin and Yoongi had uncovered months ago.

Taehyung kept running until he reached the secrecy of the woods. As he eased to a stop, you rolled off his back, laying on the forest floor and taking deep breaths. The wolf nudged your cheek with his nose, a comforting gesture, followed by a few licks to your face, as if to ease your worries. 

As much as you loved the notion, you couldn’t erase the truth of what he had done. You swiftly got to your feet and shook your head.

“Stop. I know what you’re doing.” He lowered his head and let out a whine. Human or wolf form, he had mastered the puppy dog eyes. He nuzzled his head against your side, desperate for solace, but you rejected him. “Taehyung, no!”

As you retreated, your foot came into contact with something, kicking it further backwards. Turning around, the moonlight revealed the mystery object buried in the snow. The sight pulled an involuntary scream from your lips, causing a startle strong enough to make you fall on the cold snow.

There laid your grandmother’s decapitated head and with little effort, you spotted your grandfather’s nearby.

Taehyung had reverted back to his human form and wrapped his arms around you in a protective embrace.

“Shhh, shh,” he cooed in his deep, soothing voice. “It’s okay.”

You pushed him hard enough that he fell onto the snow. “Did you do this?”

His eyes widened as he stared at you, shocked. “I’ve been spending the last few hours TRAPPED because of you. How the hell would I have time to do this?!”

You sat criss-cross, hands on your head in distress. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He grunted, rising to his feet, and offered you his hand. You peered up, finally registering he was without clothing in the moonlight. The soft glow accentuated every chiseled feature of his handsome face, rendering you speechless. Staring at his hand, you contemplated taking it. 

“No,” you finally said, getting up by yourself. “I don’t even know why I’m apologizing. You brought the hunters here. You were working with Jimin. YOU wanted Jungkook dead.”

“I promise when I conspired with Jimin, he didn’t tell me he was going to kill you. He wanted to be with Jungkook and I wanted to be with you. Believe me, darling. I had no clue of his true intentions.”

You were sick of crying, but that was all you wanted to do. Angry tears were slowly dripping down your face as you used hand gestures to convey your frustration.

“I can’t just forget it all.”

Taehyung cupped your face with both hands, his eyes full of hope and desperation. “But what if you did? Let’s run away together. Start over and forget all this misery.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” he murmured, placing a chaste kiss on your lips to seal his words. “You and me.”

He continued to kiss you despite your feeble pleas for him to stop. Your tone lacked conviction, perhaps due to exhaustion. Maybe you found a glimmer of belief in his words. Or maybe deep down, you craved his touch to momentarily replace your ache. 

The warmth of his lips, the weight of his breath, the hand on the small of your back—you melted for a fleeting moment. In the end, you had to force yourself to pull away.

“Tae—”

“Allow me to tell you my offer before you make a choice.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, staring deep into your eyes. “If you allow it, I will whisk you away to where you will only experience peace and be loved the way you deserve. In the daytime, I will be your loyal companion, a listening ear, anything your heart requires to feel at ease. Soft kisses, warm candlelight, watching your favorite show on repeat,” he said with a chuckle. Then his eyes darkened with lust. 

“Later deep into the night, I will be your source of release, making love to you for hours on end until you’re drowning in pleasure that humans wish they could experience. Passionate kisses, lingering touches, our sweaty bodies pressed together.”

He squeezed your shoulders with gentle pressure and brought you closer until your chests were touching.”

“I don’t want nobody else. You are all that matters. Not your fertility, not your history. Just you.”

Your resolve was crumbling. Taehyung knew all the right things to say and knew how to make you feel good. You wished things were different but at the moment, you wanted no one. You just wanted things to end.

“Tae… I can’t. I need… I need to be by myself. This is too much.”

“Too much?” Taehyung’s grip on your shoulders suddenly felt tighter. You didn’t even register how fast he pinned you down, hands held above your head. “Was it too much when I fucked you?“

“Stop! What are you doing?”

“Answer me!” He started to grind his cock against your thigh unashamed, the heavy pants causing chills to go down your spine. “Didn’t it feel good? Didn’t you enjoy it?”

He slipped a knee between your legs, pressing down hard enough to elicit a whimper from your lips. 

“Let me take you again. I’ll make sure you feel good.”

He placed searing kisses along your neck much to your dismay. You refused to lay still, squirming around to avoid contact, but you were still too weak to retaliate. 

“S-Stop,” you sobbed. 

He removed his hands from your own and grabbed onto the column of your throat, admiring your struggle. “You always did like it rough. So beautiful. So sexy…”

To your relief, he didn’t choke you but caressed your neck gently like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Realizing his true intentions behind that action, you summoned every ounce of strength to act quickly. Planting your feet firmly on the ground, you arched your back, utilizing the leverage to break free from Taehyung's hold. In a swift, well-timed move, you twisted your body and managed to flip the situation.

Now he was the one pinned down and you swung at him once. Twice. Then once more to ensure he was unconscious. You let out screams of rage while doing so, hating everything he’s become.

When he no longer moved, you rose from the cold ground, your steps heavy in the snow. That was when he grabbed at your ankles, forcing you to stumble forward.

“There’s no reason to stand,” he said in a venomous tone, “I like you better on all fours.”

The sounds of your struggles entwined with his grunts as he scrambled to lay on top of you, clawing at your body with his greedy hands, not caring how he was shredding your clothes or how you were getting bloody scratches from his nails. He wrapped his arm around you in a secure chokehold and you began to lose vision.

“You sure pack a punch. I’ll bite.”

Taehyung’s eyes shifted to a fiery goldenrod as he bare his fangs, sinking them into the side of your neck harshly. You let out the most blood-curdling scream as crimson dripped down and tainted the snow. It was like the world stood still, the betrayal amplifying the unimaginable pain. 

He finally released you after he got his fill, making an obscene lip-smacking sound after having tasted you. 

“You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up. I always claim what’s mine, [Y/N]. And that includes y–”

A sudden blast of magical energy knocked Taehyung off your back and his body landed far away, rolling in the snow until it came into contact with a tree. You’d be sure to thank your savior if you made it out of this alive. All you desired was to fall into a deep slumber, hoping this was a simple nightmare. 

You felt someone’s hand rolling you onto your back and you saw the shiny amulet around his neck. 

“Jimin… what irony…”

“I’m not saving you,” he said, holding the White Oak Stake above you. Seems like he was going to end you for good. “I just needed him out of my way.”

You didn’t have it in you to explain why you deserved to live. Not even for Jungkook’s sake, considering your lives are linked. You closed your eyes and accepted your fate. Jimin watched you carefully, his hand trembling. He couldn’t do it. 

When he was drowning in the lake, the amulet fortunately collided with his body and ended up saving him. He then had an encounter with your grandparents, overhearing them talk about the sire line. He was left in the dark, hating that if he ended you, he’d lose Jungkook too. So he murdered them out of spite for hiding something so crucial.

And now, when his plans were so close to fruition, he just couldn’t risk it. Part of him hoped your grandparents were lying, but what good would that do them now? Their main objective had always been eradicating hybrids. The thought of them going after Jungkook never crossed his mind and he felt incredibly stupid.

You opened your eyes after some time had passed. Jimin was quick to notice, so he raised the stake up high, forcing himself to express determination to kill you. Underneath his facade, you could see the internal struggle raging within him.

“You can’t do it, can you?” you breathed. 

“Shut up!”

“You know about it. The sireline. That’s why you’re hesitating, isn’t it?” Your question reignited the conflict burning within him and he snapped, bringing the stake downwards with force, aiming towards your chest. 

However, your moonstone necklace blazed with intense light, stopping Jimin in his tracks. You couldn't help but notice the eerie similarity to the glow emanating from his amulet when they were in closer proximity. No matter how hard he pushed, the stake wouldn’t budge any further. 

That’s when Taehyung pounced onto Jimin, sinking his teeth into his neck. A struggle unfolded in the snow, but Jimin finally overthrew him. Blood spurted from Jimin’s neck and mouth as he fell to his knees and then collapsed completely. 

You stood up, mirroring Jimin by clutching the side of your neck as you walked toward him. There was no way he was going to survive a second werewolf bite. Not this time. 

Silence lingered between you and Jimin, an unspoken exchange of emotions, a complex tapestry of anger, sadness, and spite colliding with exhaustion, frustration, and burnout.

But the ordeal was far from over.

Taehyung ran over to you, shaking you by the shoulders. 

“Do you fear me? Do you hate me?” His eyes gleamed with madness, a wicked smile on his lips. “Nothing is going to stop us from being together. I want you to do it. Kill me!”

You were tortured by his existence and he knew it, exploiting it to his advantage. But if you ended him, that would be falling right into his twisted trap. With his blood in your system, he’d become a hybrid. 

“N-No.”

“Kill me, [Y/N]! I know you want to! Do it!” He roared, forcefully grabbing your hands and pressing them against his neck. “Strangle me! Rip my heart out!”

“You’re being crazy, stop!!!”

A snarl in the distance froze both of you. As Taehyung looked over his shoulder, a black wolf emerged, lunging at him. Taehyung was jovial in his struggle against the wolf, elated to have his wish granted.

“That’s right. Take your anger out on me. She doesn’t love you anymore! Your love was a sham!”

Jungkook growls intensified, clawing him to a gruesome death. You ran over as fast as you could, desperate to stop him.

“Jungkook no! Don’t do it! He bit me!”

As if your words reached him, Jungkook transformed back into his human form, staring at his blood-covered hands in horror. Seeing your neck wound, guilt consumed him, and he fainted.

"What have I done?" he whispered before collapsing. You caught him just in time.

"Jungkook? Jungkook, wake up!" You patted his face urgently. "No, no. What's going on?"

In the distance, you spotted someone crawling through the snow toward Jimin's dying body. Marching over, you grabbed Ari by the collar.

"Ari, what the hell is happening?! Fix it! You're a witch, you're strong. Do something!"

She shook her head. "I can't… I'm dying too. Jimin and I… we're linked."

“What?!”

“The night of the banquet when we took shots of alcohol… I spelled it to link our lives forever.”

“Oh my god… what about Jungkook? He’s not waking up!”

“Why do you think?” she said in a hoarse whisper. “He and Taehyung are linked too.”

#bts series #bts scenarios #jungkook series #jungkook #taehyung #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #bangtan fanfic #moonstruck #my scenarios #jeon jungkook

[6rookie-writer0110]

Chasing the moon

Evan Buck Buckley x Female Reader

Request - Buck finding out the girl he’s been watching in old interviews who was in the military an was known for being a sniper but having the calmest heart rate while doing so an was best friends with Eddie.

Buck can't sleep and it's late then he sighed, now he is watching videos on his phone. He stopped on a video and he developed a crush on the sniper then he starts to search more videos of her. He is impressed that she is a sniper and has other skills, so he searched for her profile on Instagram. Buck is starting to like a few pictures and he pressed the follow button. But eventually, he put his phone down and went to sleep.

The next day, at work he drank some energy drinks to be awake. On his lunch break, he starts to watch more videos of you. In some videos, you talked about stuff besides the military.

“You have been on your phone all day. Who are you texting?” Eddie said.

“I’m not texting anyone. I'm watching videos of the best sniper and she is really cute” Buck smiled.

“Show me,” Eddie said.

Buck showed him the video and he starts to smile. But Eddie doesn't tell him that he knows you, but Buck starts to talk about you.

“So you have a crush on her?” Eddie asked.

“I guess, I do. I'm following her on Instagram and I liked a few pictures” Buck said.

“Did you slide into her DMs?” Eddie asked.

“No. I don't want to write the same thing that other guys write. I have to do something different” Eddie said.

“Good luck with that,” Eddie said.

The fire alarm started to ring, and Eddie and Buck started to get ready and then ran to the truck.

----

A few days later... Buck did see new videos of you. Eddie noticed that Buck has a huge crush on you. Now they start to talk about what plans they have for the weekend. You walked into the fire station and start to look for Eddie.

“Y/n?” Eddie said.

“Hey, Eddie” You smiled.

Buck is in shock and speechless. You hugged Eddie and he is happy to see you.

“Wait, you know her?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, we know each other. We were stationed together and she lived with me Christopher for a little while before I came to California. Oh, Y/n this is my friend Buck” Eddie said

Buck starts to smile at you and he is feeling nervous.

“Hi, I'm Buck” Buck said.

“Yeah, he told me your name. But it's nice to meet you” You said.

“How did you find me?” Eddie asked.

“Actually, I bumped into Jason and he told me where you worked. And I wanted to surprise you and Christopher and I got a gift for him. Is he into Lego?” You said.

“He will like it. How about this, you and Buck should come over to my house for dinner” Eddie said.

“Sure, I will go,” You said.

“Good. Oh, I mean I will go too” Buck said.

You and Buck start to smile at each other.

“You can stay at my place if you want,” Eddie said.

“It’s fine. I'm staying at a hotel for a little while” You said.

The bell started to ring.

“We have to go,” Eddie said.

“Be safe. Call me later” You said.

“Yeah, I will,” Eddie said.

You leave the station then they start to get ready.

“Why you didn't tell me that you know her,” Buck said

“You didn't ask” Eddie teased.

“Not funny,” Buck said.

Buck is helping Christopher with his homework, and Eddie is cooking dinner.

“So... Is Y/n single?” Buck asked.

“I don't know. Wait, you want to ask her out?” Eddie said.

“Yeah, I want to ask her out. Are you going to be okay with that?” Buck said.

“I care about her, so don't break her heart,” Eddie said.

“I’m not that kind of guy,” Buck said.

“I’m not attacking you. I just want her to be happy that's all” Eddie said.

You arrived and Eddie hugged you. He starts to set the table while Buck tries to flirt with you.

“How did you and Eddie meet?” Buck asked.

“Actually, she saved me from almost being killed. She was on a roof of a house and she shot the enemy in the head. Since we became friends, we were stationed in Japan for two years before I went back to Texas then she followed me” Eddie said

“I was stationed in Texas. I didn't stalk you” You said.

You and Eddie started to laugh.

“So, are you dating anyone?” Eddie asked.

“No. I have been single for a while, I think it ready to date again” You smiled.

“You know there is a new restaurant, maybe we should go together Y/n,” Buck said.

“Sure, it will be a date” You smiled.

“Yeah, it will be a date” Buck smiled.

“You two should eat before the food gets cold,” Eddie said

Everyone starts to eat the food. You and Eddie tell Buck stories about being in the army.

✬ ✬ ✯ ✫

You and Buck finished watching a movie and then went to get ice cream. You and Buck are having a good time. He is hesitating to hold your hand.

“You have a gentle heart, Y/n” Buck said.

“You thought because I’m a sniper, I would be cold?” You said.

“Sorry, but yeah,” Buck said.

“Yeah, many people thought about me. “They thought I would be cold or aggressive,” You said.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Buck said.

Buck bought the ice cream. Then he takes you to the boardwalk, he paid for an artist to draw you and Buck together. Then you and Buck went to play a game, to see who makes the most shots. You and Buck grabbed the basketball and started to play.

“I won,” Buck said and he smirked.

“It was a lucky shot,” You said.

“We can go again, Y/n, and I will still win,” Buck said.

“Okay, let's play again,” You said.

You and Buck started to play again. But you lost again and he can't stop smiling at you.

“See, it wasn't just luck. I have skills” Buck smirked.

“Whatever, Buck,” You said.

He picked a shark plush and gave it to you. Later, you and Buck go on the Ferris wheel, he moved closer and put his arm around you.

“I’m having fun. This is a good first date” You said.

“Me too, I'm having fun,” Buck said.

He leans and he kissed you on the lips. You start to kiss him back and you put your hand on his cheek.

----

Its Halloween... Hen and Karen are having a party. They told everyone to arrive wearing costumes, you and Buck agreed to wear matching costumes. You and Buck are Mr. & Mrs. Incredible, then you take pictures with Buck and everyone else. Later, you met his sister Maddie and Chimeny and you're getting along with them. You and Buck start to dance together and he is making you laugh.

“So, this means you and Buck are official?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, we are. But we are taking it slow” You said.

“I’m happy for you and Buck. You two deserve to be happy” Eddie said.

“Are you dating? And I mean it, that you deserve to be happy and have fun” You said.

“I’m dating but nothing is official just yet,” Eddie said.

Later, you and Buck sit down together and just talked for a little while then danced again.

---

You are staying the night at Buck’s apartment. You are showing him, pictures of you and Eddie in the army. You and Eddie are standing by the Jeep with other people.

“How did you know you wanted to be a sniper?” Buck asked.

“In the army, they make us do everything to see if we have a skill in a certain area. I beat Eddie and other people in target practice” You said.

“Wow. If I didn't see your interviews and Eddie told me that you are a badass sniper, I wouldn't have believed him” Buck said.

You and Buck started to smile. Later, you and Buck cuddled on the couch to watch a movie.

#female reader #evan buck buckley imagine #evan buck buckley x reader #Evan Buck Buckley x female reader #buck x reader #buck Buckley x reader #911 imagine

[ejunkiet]

voicemails: david shaw edition

i’m soft and I also love writing in this format. this is set halloween 2020.

redacted asmr: davey/angel. rated G for Goodness.

[CALLER: DAVEY. MESSAGE LEFT ON THURSDAY OCTOBER 29TH AT 10:50AM]

Angel. It's David.

READ ON AO3

-

[CALLER: DAVEY. MESSAGE LEFT ON THURSDAY OCTOBER 29TH AT 10:50AM]

Angel. It’s David. The website said your flight is still scheduled to arrive on time, so you should be in the airport around now. I didn’t expect you to pick up.

Call me when you land.

[BEEP]

-

[CALLER: DAVEY. MESSAGE LEFT ON THURSDAY OCTOBER 29TH AT 10:30PM]

Angel. It’s David. You’re still at the company dinner. Call me when you’re on your way back to the hotel. Chicago is a big city, and you shouldn’t walk, no matter how close the place is. Hire an Uber. You should be able to claim the expenses back at the end of your trip.

To answer your text from earlier… you don’t even need to ask, idiot. Of course I miss you.

Call me before you leave for the hotel.

[BEEP]

-

[CALLER: DAVEY. MESSAGE LEFT ON FRIDAY OCTOBER 30TH AT 08:10AM]

Angel. It’s David. I’m assuming the fact that you’ve not picked up is because you’re at breakfast, not because you’ve slept through your alarm. We were up late last night, a lot later than I realised... and I’m feeling it this morning. You will be too.

Be extra careful today. Don’t overdose on caffeine. No matter what the scientists in that study said, drinking that much coffee will give you an aneurysm. Don’t be an idiot.

I’ll talk to you later.

[BEEP]

–

[CALLER: DAVEY. MESSAGE LEFT ON FRIDAY OCTOBER 30TH AT 6:10PM]

Angel. It’s David. The pack meeting just finished. Ash and his mate asked me to send along their regards… whatever that means. You better not be planning something. Insubordination is not viewed lightly within my pack. Whatever you have planned…. Don’t.

I’m sure you will text me professing your innocence, but I know you. You’re a menace.

Call me when you’re heading back to the hotel.

[BEEP]

–

[NEW MESSAGE, RECEIVED FRIDAY OCTOBER 30TH AT 11:51PM]

YOU LITTLE SHIT

[THREE MISSED CALLS FROM: DAVEY (BIG MAD)]

[NEW MESSAGE, RECEIVED FRIDAY OCTOBER 30TH AT 11:55PM]

PICK UP.

[NEW MESSAGE, RECEIVED FRIDAY OCTOBER 30TH AT 11:56PM]

ANGEL.

–

[CALLER: DAVEY (BIG MAD). MESSAGE LEFT ON SATURDAY OCTOBER 31ST AT 00:01AM]

Stop avoiding my calls. I know it was you, you little shit.

I don’t know how you managed it, or exactly how many other members of my pack you roped into this little plan of yours - but it’s not going to work.

There will be no trick or treaters visiting the house this year. I will figure out how to uninstall those lights you put up, and take down all the halloween decorations that miraculously appeared on our lawn in the middle of the night.

[low muttering] Did you get Milo’s mate involved in this? I couldn’t sense any auras-

It doesn’t matter. It’s not going to happen. Turn off those lights right now before you disturb the neighbours.

You don’t have to call me back. Just turn those lights off.

And go to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow.

[BEEP]

–

[NEW MESSAGE, RECEIVED FRIDAY OCTOBER 31ST AT 00:10AM]

THANK YOU.

[NEW MESSAGE, RECEIVED FRIDAY OCTOBER 31ST AT 00:11AM]

GET SOME SLEEP.

–

[NEW MESSAGE, RECEIVED FRIDAY OCTOBER 31ST AT 9:05AM]

GOOD LUCK TODAY ANGEL. I LOVE YOU. EVEN WHEN YOU’RE ACTING LIKE A LITTLE SHIT. CALL ME WHEN YOU’RE FREE.

–

[NEW MESSAGE, RECEIVED FRIDAY OCTOBER 31ST AT 4:30PM]

IMAGE ATTACHMENT FROM ASHER (BIG GOOF)

GOT A SNAP OF THE BIG GUY HANDING OUT CANDY. TOLD YOU HE’D HAVE FUN.

GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR PRESENTATION. YOU’RE GONNA KILL IT, ROCKSTAR.

–

[CALLER: DAVEY (BIG SOFTIE). MESSAGE LEFT ON SATURDAY OCTOBER 31ST AT 9:30PM]

Angel. It’s David. The expo should be finishing right about now, time zones and all. I’m sure it went well. The practice presentations you gave me were excellent. You’re good at articulating yourself and your ideas. Never doubt your abilities.

Asher and his mate just left. You’re still a menace, and we will be talking about this when you get back… But despite my reservations about tonight, it went well.

It was good to see them both. It’s been too long since we’ve hung out like this.

That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. But it was a good idea.

Now that you’ve finished your big presentation, I expect you to come home to me. Stay safe, Don’t let your relief make you careless. It’s still a big city, bigger than Dahlia. Stick with the group, and call me when you’re on your way back to the hotel.

I’m proud of you, Angel. I’m looking forward to welcoming you home.

[BEEP]

#redacted asmr #ej writes redacted #look this is entirely self indulgent #i've dabbled in script writing before #ngl it's very fun #i have a pseud dedicated to it: coffee and labcoats #look in my defense I did start my cross stitch project #it's very fun #writing #redacted davey #redacted david #davey/angel

[amive2567]

Grand Masterlist

Izuku Midoriya x Gn!Reader (if I missed to corect the femalecoded things, please yell at me)

Contains: death, violence, blood and gore, swearing, fighting scene, Izuku gets a bit agressive, implied cheating (no one is actually cheating), Type of order: small hot chocolate (Fluff), Coffee (Angst), Cupcakes (Oneshot),

Rated: 15+

Word count: 7.120

A/N: This took ages, but it's finally finished. I am really proud with this one. Please enjoy :)

Song: Underground by Cody Fry

Tag: @quietlegends

“I am so sorry. I wish I had more time for us.” He lowered his head and observed his shoes. “You know what? I am going to take you out on a date this evening,” Izuku admitted. A smile spread across your face. It's been months since you've spent time together away from work. “Oh, I like that. Where are we going, mister dating pro?” you mussed with a sly smirk on your face. “Mhm, I thought about the little restaurant down the street.” Your eyes began to sparkle and your mouth began to build up saliva. Just the thought of the most amazing restaurant in the whole of Musutafu made you hungry. They serve the most delicious Gyoza and Curry Katsu in the whole world. “Yeah, that’s great. Even the thought of their delicious Gyoza makes my mouth water.” you gushed. Izuku chuckled. He loved your passion for this place and its food. But he had to agree, the Katsudon they are serving is better than his mother's, and that has to say something.  

To be honest, it was quite funny how you found the small cozy restaurant. It was pouring heavily, and you were both looking for a comfortable location to sit until the rain stopped. Your laugh still rang in his ears, as he thought back. You teased him because he felt cold. “That’s what you get for getting an undercut and cutting your fluffy hair.” you laughed, but you still handed him your scarf. "But now you could get a cold." He admitted worryingly. You waved it off and smiled at him. "I don't care, and besides, you could nurse me back to health. With love and kisses."

You finally found shelter under the awning of a bistro. The lights were off, and it seemed to be closed. "Oh, come on, why does it have to be closed?" You were drenched by now, and besides that, you would kill for a portion of Ramen now. The cold crept up your bones, and you both began to shiver. "Maybe we should call Todoroki, so he can pick us up?" Suggested Izuku, but you shook your head. "We forgot our phones, silly. Besides that, he and Sero are on their honeymoon. I don't think both of them are going to be happy when we call them and disturb their time." You reminded him. "Maybe we should just wait until it clears up," he suggested. "Yeah, that's an idea." And so you waited, enjoying the company of each other in silence. It was peaceful until the sound of the door opening disturbed it.

"Oh no, you can't stay here outside in the cold. Come in, sweethearts. I am going to make you my special Gyoza and a comforting portion of Ramen." An old lady stepped out of the restaurant. She had tied her gray hair in a bun, and a blue apron decorated her small body. You couldn't even complain as she shoved you into her cozy restaurant.

The loud ringing of the alarm system forced Midoriya to snap out of his memories. "To all heroes at the mighty tower, we need to stop a villain at Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall. An a-level villain tries to attack the mall, but he's not alone. A lot of people are in danger, give it your best. Plus ultra." During the announcement, you and Izuku dressed in your hero costume and stormed to the mall. Izuku carried you piggyback style and jumped around the city with one for all. In a matter of a few minutes, you reached your destination. Screams greeted you, and the smell of blood and debris lay heavily in the air. "Time to kick some ass." You said and smiled at your husband. He agreed with a nod and you started searching for the villain. 

People were running around, and other heroes tried to bring them to safety. A lady was crying and searching for her son. "My son is missing, please. I need to find him." She pleads. "We will try to find him, but now you have to save yourself. We will do everything we can to save your son." You handed her over to another hero. "Deku, the villain, is near the Deku merchandise shop. Cloudwood and Sprinkle are trying to get a hold of him." Said Glade. His quirk was lightning, which could blind villains. Unfortunately, it was not a suitable quirk for solo fights. "Thanks, Glade." Shouted Izuku. 

The further you went into the mall, the fewer people were to be seen. Rubble lay across the hallway, and dust swirled in the afternoon sun. It was quiet, way too quiet. You wanted to say something, but Deku stopped you with a hand sign. He shook his head, and after a while, you got why he did so. An invisible woman appeared in front of you. "Aww, you are no fun. I wanted to kill you slowly and unnoticed, but I guess you wanted to be a party popper." She whined, but a grin appeared across her bloody face. "Now I have to fight you, agh, so exhausting." She shook her head and threw the first punch. You transformed your hand into a bunch of snakes. They hissed and let themselves loose to attack the villain. "Haha, your little snakes aren't going to harm me in any way." She laughed, but you knew that your snakes were more capable than being just snakes. You controlled them and let them grow. The villain flinched, but she didn't let it show that she was scared. She probably had Ophidiophobia, which was good. It would be easier when she feared them. Your snakes could feel her fear and grow even bigger. She flinched and went invisible, but you snakes sensed her movement. She is probably a new villain, an easy target. You let your snakes snap, and they could land a hit on the Geko lady by her leg. She started screaming, and you knew the poison of your snakes started paralyzing her. "Nice job, honey." Cheered Izuku. "It wasn't that hard. She's a newbie." You argued humbly. He chuckles while admiring your humble personality at the same time. You never thought you were better than everyone just because you slayed a goddamn cruel villain. Although you really should appreciate yourself more often, he thought. “ We should move on,” you announced and rushed to the source of destruction. 

Even though you were a hero for a long time, and you even defeated AFO, you weren’t ready for this fight. 

More corpses and debris came your way as you moved deeper inside the building. Police personnel, citizens, or even heroes, like Cloudwood and Sprinkle, stared at you with their dead eyes. You suppressed the feeling of crying and vomiting, the mission has to be successful. After that, you could hide inside your bed for days. Izuku must have had the same thought as you because he moved faster, away from these horrible sights. Walking without difficulties got harder as the debris began to stack. “We’re getting closer,” you whispered. The both of you carefully stepped onward. On a mountain of loose bricks, you came to a hold. 

A look down revealed the true horror of this mission. There's blood everywhere, bodies everywhere, and heroes battling for their lives. In the middle of this whole chaos stood Mimic. The source of all evil. You were searching for him all over Musutafu, but now you had the chance to fight him. He floated in the middle of the area, surrounded by a violet mist. Doubles emerged out of it and landed on the floor. “Shit more of these assholes.” yelled one of the supporting heroes. Without thinking both of you, run down the hill of debris. You summoned your snakes and sent them off to fight the first clone of Mimic, but you knew that wouldn't be so easy. Your first encounter left more scars than every villain ever did. He ran once All Might entered his vision, but after All Might perished, he reappeared from the ground.

The dust was swirling around and you needed to cover your eyes, to see properly. More clones emerged from Mimic and you began to lose Izuku in the dusty and crowded area. Even though everyone fought it was oddly quiet. The area was just too small for this amount of people. You found yourself stumbling across the maze of corpses, debris, and dust. A scream, so loud your bones shook, got your attention. Without thinking you sprinted to the source of it. The dusty air filled your lungs and you coughed, but you never thought about staying still. Your heart pounded and you heard the blood rushing in your ears, stumbling across the area until you reached the source of the scream. Izuku lay in a puddle of his blood, writhing in pain. Above him towered your snakes, their red eyes gleaming in the evening sun. “You are such a monster. I can’t believe I fell in love with someone so crucial,” he whispered. “No, that can't be,” you screamed and ran to him. Not even being scared of your own snakes. If Izuku were to die they could gladly kill you too. “Don’t die, not now. I can fix this.” you were crying by now. “I will fix this…Us…I will fix us.” you tried to tend his wounds but to no avail. More blood poured out of his abdomen. “No, no. This. no” Ugly sobs shook your body and you hugged him tied. “Get off of me, you traitor. How could you be a villain.” “Izu, honey what?” You were confused, but you paid no mind to it. Your snakes could be poisonous if you want them to be. “I won’t leave you.” “I would be happier dying alone than with you by my side.” More tears swelled in your eyes. “Don’t say something like this.” He shrugged and with a short labored breath his eyes went blank. “Izu, no no god please no. Don’t leave me here.” You couldn’t stop the tears. They clouded your view and you screamed. So painful you bet Mimic would be crying. 

Your crying came to hold as someone smacked you across the face. The dusty view disappeared and you were more irritated than before. The tears still ran down your cheeks. “H/N, it was only a vision. Deku is still alive. He is fighting with Infra on the other side. One of the Clones has a Quirk that can control your vision, makes you imagine things and stuff.” explained Iron to you. A kind and well-mannered hero. His quirk can kick ass. “We need to catch him.” you sniffed. “We can't, he is invisible, only to be seen in the poisonous cloud of another clone's quirk. They are all connected, we can only take down MImic if we destroy them,” explained Iron. You wiped away your tears. “Alright, do you know more?” you heaved, as you avoided a boulder, which flew at you. Iron constructs a wall to protect you from the boulder. “Shit they are already attacking,” he swore. “Iron, how do you know so much about this dude?” “As we fought him last time with people from my agency, they all died. I did research and I want him dead. I am the one who’s going to kill him.” You were too stunned to say something. “I know this must be hard for you, but killing him won’t be able to heal your deep wounds. Besides, that death would be too kind, he should rot in Tartarus. You can turn him in after we beat him up.” you tried to comfort him, even though you were terrible at it. “Yeah, you're right, thanks.” 

The both of you moved forward to search for the poison guy. “He must be around somewhere. Here is where I got that vision and then I ran off.” Iron nodded and looked around. “The poison is in the same violet as the cloud around Mimic. Maybe they’re connected. He probably hides somewhere in the smoke.” Explained Iron. “Then we need to get in there.” you proposed and made your way to the violet cloud. “Wait, it's highly poisonous, you can’t go in there.” He yelled after you as you were about to enter the thick smoke. “Not a problem. My quirk lets me be immune to poison,” you answered, over your shoulder, leaving Iron behind as you finally stepped into the smoke.

You could barely see in this thick and hot smoke. It was so muggy you could barely breathe. While summoning a snake you checked your vicinity, but nothing special was recognizable in your sight. In addition, it was eerily quiet and only a kind of wafting and muffled fighting noises could be heard. The adrenaline was rushing through your body. This feeling was new and uncanny, which disturbed you. “Get your shit together, Y/N” You shook your head to get a clear sight again. The scales of your hero costume got hotter with every second you spent searching for this stupid dream clone.   

A creepy laugh caught your attention. Even though you looked around, you couldn't see anyone. "Poor naive hero. You walked right into your misery." Mocked the voice. "Where are you, villain?" The voice seemed to come from everywhere. "If I tell you, it would be boring, wouldn't it." It laughed. "Fuck off, we will get Mimic to stop, even if we let you off the hook." "Did I mention that you are naive? Because, Jesus, you are so naive. Poor little hero." The voice still laughed. Cold and heartless. “Show yourself, you, coward.” You began to shout. “I am not a mean guy so I will. Wait and see what powers I can hold.” 

“Who is this guy, we haven’t dealt any damage yet,” shouted Denki. Sweat was running over their temples. Deku and his team were fighting for almost half an hour now and nothing major had happened. The werewolf in front of them had gleaming red eyes, salvia was running down his hairy chin and he attacked constantly. He has a ton of energy, although the heroes did not. They dodged the attacks of the wild animal and tried to fight back, but to no avail. “Wait guys.” shouted a voice from far away. Everyone turned around and spotted Iron. He waved with his arms, so he would get noticed. To be honest, he looked like a crazy human bird. “We can’t wait for him, we need to attack,” shouted Infra, who was occupied with watching out for more clones. “Yes, baby girl. I am on it.” flirted Denki. “Don’t call me that you incompetent twat. Get to work,” she argued with red tainted cheeks. 

“There is still no sight of a new clone,” informed Infra. “Well, that’s great because electrifying this werewolf is harder than you think it is.” While some of them tried to get the wolf unconscious, the others decided to join Iron on his way. “Iron, what are you doing here? We thought you were fighting at the other front,” asked Sparks, the starlight heroine. “They have been blinded by this dream clone. Y/N also got blinded…” He couldn't continue speaking because Deku cut him off. “What’s with her now? Is she alright?” “She is currently trying to fight the poison clone. Before fighting this dream guy,” explained Iron. With his statements, he just confused his fellow heroes even more. “What happened exactly? I don’t get it?” asked Sparks. Iron took a deep breath and tried to explain everything as short as possible.

“Alright, we need to help her. She can’t just fight these horrible guys alone.” Sparks got worried and she already wanted to step into the violet mist, but Deku grabbed her arm and stopped her. “The mist is poisonous, besides Y/n is very capable, they can get those guys. We need to clear the outside parts and save the last few civilians. We can’t risk ourselves when we know one of us is capable of stopping all this. Y/n is selfless, they could never forgive themself if something happened to one of us because of them.” Even though his words seemed to be selfish, his eyes were overflowing with worry and fear for his love. Sparks didn’t agree with his point of view, but she still obeyed his orders. He was the number one hero so he should know what he's talking about.

A horrible-looking creature stepped out of the mist into your field of view. His face was deformed, bloody horns were sticking out of his skull and his bones were sticking out of his body. His appearance was so disturbing you wanted to vomit. You swallowed your puke and tried to put on a poker face. This villain has to be captured or else your team, the civilians, and your husband will die. “Now that I showed myself we should end this quickly.” The clone spoke and his voice sounded like nails running down a chalkboard. It wasn’t deep and distorted like before. You summoned your snakes without saying anything. Meanwhile, poison summoned a fresh cloud of venom. This time it’s as green as your husband's hair. The color always calmed you down, but now you were a bit scared. Even though you can endure an immense amount of poison you don’t know how much concentration he put into it. With the help of the green cloud, you tried to attack him from the back. To your misfortune he was pretty agile, a perk of his frail-looking form, so he dodged your attack. “Don’t underestimate me, little piece of trash.” he laughed as he tried to shoot another ray of poison in your face. Even though you felt you could withstand his onslaught, you avoided it. 

After some minutes of fighting him, you noticed his weaknesses. While he is summoning a cloud of poison he is stunned. That’s a short gap to attack him with your full force. Once you can get him down it will be an easy game. You had to hide your victorious smile. While you were preparing your snakes and yourself to attack, you avoided all his forays. “What’s up with you, low life, can’t even shoot a big wide poison cloud. Weakling,” you shouted at his face. His deformed face formed an ambitious grin. What a dumb villain. He closed his eyes and cast the poison. With one fast step, you and your snakes attacked him. The sharp teeth of your snakes pierced his thighs, while you were trying to hit him unconsciously. With your right fist, you landed a hit on his nose and with your left, you hit him in his stomach. He was fighting to get you off but the surprise attack did its best and he couldn't get rid of you. “Well, who is now the little piece of trash now?” Were your last words before your opponent drifted into unconsciousness. 

You took a deep sigh of relief and let go of him. The violet mist vanished and finally, the whole disaster was revealed. Rubble, shattered glass, body parts, and bodies were strewn everywhere. It was a view you would like to forget, but now you have to focus on the mission. Finding the dream guy had to be easy now that the poison guy was gone. You let your snakes vanish to conserve your power, otherwise, you'd be as comatose as the person you just battled. 

“I wonder where Iron went?” you wondered out loud and went on searching for Dream. You tried not to slip and fall as you walked across rubble and shattered glass. Your body was exhausted but you still kept going, for the sake of the mission and people's lives. Save to win and win to save, or whatever Izuku mumbled when he was fighting a villain. Quiet laughter was detected by your ears. “Who is here?” you shouted into the silence. Of course, there was no answer. “Damn you. I am aware of your ability now, dream. Come out now.” “Or what? Are you going to kill me, little saint.” spat a sarcastic voice behind a pile of stones. There he was the villain you were searching for. An evil smile spread across your face. Now it’s time to shine. “Maybe, but you need to come out little pussy.” you shouted. “Well then prepare to die.” He jumped out of his hiding and threw a knife at you. Well, his quirk was not suited for combat and it showed in his abilities. 

“That’s all you got.” you teased him while summoning your snakes. “Oh just wait.” A wide horrifying grin spread across his dirty face. Grime and blood decorated his face and his long white hair. You walked closer to him and tried to attack him with one of your snakes. It wasn’t as easy as you thought, because he dodged. In the next second, he vanished. Surprised you locked around. 

“What?” you locked around, you were standing in the hallway of Izukus and your holiday home. A moan could be heard from upstairs. Your stomach turned as if you knew what was going on. “Izuku, are you there?” you shouted through your flat. The moaning stopped and the shuffling of people could be heard. You slowly walked towards the master bedroom. The fear inside of you was intensifying with each step. With a fast move you opened the door, and there he was, naked. The love of your life nacked with another woman in your bed. “How could you? I thought you loved me. Izuku Midoriya, how could you do this ?” With each word, your voice grew louder. He looked at you with a smug grin. “You deserved it. You were a useless girlfriend. Not even good at one thing, so shagging another lad was good. We are over.” He said almost sounding bored. Tears were streaming across your cheeks. “I hate you.” you whimpered and broke down. Until the world started spinning and you sank to the floor.

You opened your eyes again and noticed the rubble under your knees. In front of you laid the unconscious Dream. The tears on your cheeks still kept running. “Hey, Y/n. He is gone, everything is alright now.” said a voice you knew too well, but now it felt unreal. His voice was so reassuring and kind not like seconds before. It was only a vision caused by this villain. “How did you find me?” you whispered, still shaken up. So he wasn’t cheating on you, what a relief. You wanted to take a deep breath but you were still in shock. He wrapped his muscular arms around you. “You can breathe it’s over. After the big poison mist vanished Iron told me the direction and I came looking for you. This guy was just in my way.” He explained calmingly. “I didn’t cheat on you, my dear, I never would. It’s alright. How could I ever betray someone as loving as you?” His hands were running up and down on your back. “Are you alright?” “Now I am, thank you Izu.” You took a deep shaky breath and stood up. “Let's help the others,” you said and both of you started to find your team. 

Izuku started to carry you on his back. He activated OFA and sprinted toward the place he came from. Denkis Elektro rays could already be seen in the distance. He intensified the speed in his legs. “We should hope that they captured the werewolf already,” shouted Izuku over his shoulder. You nodded, but the answer couldn’t leave your mouth because you gritted your teeth. This was way too fast. It felt like you could vomit at any time. As you reached the point of your destination, your team was still fighting against this huge hairy monster. Izuku came to a halt and you jumped off his back. “Dream is unconscious, so it should be easy to finish this guy,” reported Izuku. “Sets gret. He He.” babbled Denki, who was nearly at his limit. The beast was still stunned by Denkis's force.

The werewolf was now a mere puppy. He just whined and tried to escape the electric force of his opponent. “Please, let me go.” His voice was a mere whisper. “Maybe it’s too much, we should help him.” You said worriedly as you were about to summon your snakes. “No, his electric has reached a limit of 2000 Volt, you would be toast if you tried to save the villain.” reminded you Infra. She watched Denkis doing with crossed arms and a worried frown. Wasn’t she the girl Denki took as his date to the hero gala last week? You asked yourself but shook your head. That’s something to ponder about later. It merely took another few minutes until Dennis took his Volt power to its maximum of 2500 Volt. Your thoughts stopped abruptly when a new villain tried to attack you from behind. 

“Delaware Smash,” shouted Izuku as he protected you. The huge boulders exploded into a million little pieces. Your heart raced inside your chest. “Thank you.” you stammered. Izuku turned around, concern lingered in his eyes. “Did a pebble hurt you? Are you shocked? Are you alright?” He started rambling as he took your chin in his rough hand. He observed your face and wiped the blood from a small wound on your cheek. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to let the stone hurt you,” he mumbled. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault, the villain did it.” You comforted him by holding him. “We need to stop him.” The shock wore off and you were ready to fight. Izuku and you released your hug and started sprinting toward the source of the boulders. Iron and Nifty Angel followed you. 

“Who even is this ?” Angel asked and Iron grumbled. “She is called Micro. With the help of the werewolf’s pheromones, she can produce Microparticles that can be transformed into bigger objects. She is an agile opponent and can produce her weapons fast, so please be careful.” Iron produced a shield for Nifty and himself, while Deku protected you with Air Force. 

An ear-piercing laugh echoed through the stony field. “You believe you can avoid my quirk? As if.” She laughed and shot another wave of stones in your direction. A small rock flew past you and scratched you. Warm blood was now running down your dirty cheek. Your body was filled with adrenaline, so you didn’t even notice, but Izuku did.

His eyes were filled with worry as he saw the blood. “I’m fine,” you muttered. He walked on, still concerned. His energy radiated with anger as he attacked Micro again. Her radiant laugh vibrated through your whole body. “Such a lovely couple. I guess we should pull an end to this disgusting romance.” With a wicked smile, she collected a bunch of rocks and let them transform into a huge hammer. She swung it around like a madman and tried to squash you all to pulk. Her giggles were accompanied by your shouting. You rolled over your shoulder to avoid her onslaught. Izuku was furious by now, his eyes grew darker and he pulled for a counterattack. “Distract her,” he whispered to you, as he moved on to get closer to his enemy. 

Micro went on with her maniacal giggle and went on with controlling her stony hammer. She locked around the small area, suspicion built up in her stomach as she wasn’t able to see the green-haired pro hero. “Where is…” Her muttering was interrupted by an angry growl. “St. Louis smash.” With a swift kick, Izuku kicked her from her stone pile. Micro screamed with agony as she landed on the hard ground. The stones ripped her costume apart and blood pooled from her legs. The bone of her thigh saw the light of day. It was a disgusting scene, to be honest. A shiver went down your spine. “Never target my partner again.” Izuku hissed. “Well too late. She is already down. Such a pity.” breathed the villainess in front of him. With a scary impression the hero turned around, but you were safe and sound. As he wanted to turn around he got hit with a stone against his head. The world started spinning and black dots were shimmering before his inner eye. Blood was dripping down his scalp. A growl escaped his lips as the stone hit him in his stomach. He stumbled back and tried to clear his sight, even though he failed miserably.

At the same time tried Chargebolt to get the furry unconscious. It didn’t take long until the werewolf lost his ability to move and Chargeally short-circuited. The yellow lightning vanished as both of the fighters fell unconscious on the dusty ground. “Finally.” exhaled Sparks as she captured the villain with her lariat. “Sparks go and help the others. I will get Chargebolt to safety,” yelled Infra as she carried the blond hero on her back.

 

Sparks was now running to her four colleagues to help them out. The dirty air rushed into her lungs. She just hoped that her asthma wasn’t acting up now. She thought through the shortness of breath. She was aware that her asthma may affect her as she approached the field of calamity. With a fast handle, she got her asthma inhaler. She pressed the button and her lungs immediately felt free. “Such shitty timing,” she mumbled and asked Angel for a management report. 

As Izuku tried to fight back. The stones around Micro disheveled into little fragments and her eyes widened with fear, now she was unable to protect herself. Izuku got the quirk-repelling cuffs out of his pockets and captured her. She would be able to move anyways. “Got her,” he shouted over the quiet field. “Finally. I thought I was gonna be crushed by this huge hammer.” Iron let out a relieved breath. “Where is Y/N?” Deku asked immediately. “She is helping Angel with her laceration. No need to worry, loverboy.” Iron winked. Both of the heroes joined their teammates. “Well we should move on to Mimic and finally take him down.” you mused. “Where are Chargebolt and Infra?” Iron asked. “Chargebolt short-circuited and Infra is bringing him to safety.” “Ah, yes, seems plausible.”   

Your team started running towards Mimic, still on the alert for possible enemies. “We need to be careful, there could be other clones.” pondered Iron. “Your right, we need to be on guard.” you agreed. With that knowledge, you walked slower, always watching out for new enemies. The air was quiet with screams of injured civilians, no fighting sounds, and no quirk-caused noises. It sends shivers down your spine. What a creepy atmosphere. Your heart was pounding and no one dared to utter a word. The quiet was immediately disturbed by a piercing scream. Your scream. The abrupt penetration of a knife through your shoulder blade drove you to face first to the earth. “Find this asshole.” Deku and the others had divided up to look for the knife thrower. 

“It hurts.” you cried, as Izuku pulled out the knife. He pulled out a bandage and tended your wound. “Are you alright? Should I get you to the ambulance?” he rambled and you smiled a bit. “No, I can still fight. We should move on.” Izuku landed you a hand and you both stood up. “Thank you.” you pecked his cheek. “Now we should find the others.” You took his hand and moved on as if nothing happened. Even though your right arm hurt like hell. 

In the meantime Iron, Angel and Spark fought against this villain who was covered in knives. Angel was still on guard, she believed that somehow there could be another clone in reach. The other two had the upper hand on this knife guy. So she left to look out for other clones or civilians who needed help. To her luck, her gut feeling didn’t betray her. There stood this guy with a bow and arrow. He was distracted by his target and Angel took the change and aimed her sword at him and threw it like a spear at him The sharp blade drew through both of his arms and with a loud growl her target fell to the ground. “There, there. Shooting on already traumatized civilians. Such a pity you missed.” snared Angel as she put the quirk-reducing handcuffs around his hands. She pulled the sword out of the arms of the sniper. “Well, then have a nice stay, the police will escort you to your zero-star hotel.” With that, she turned around and left the poor villain alone. “Easy, pff.” 

When she came back, Iron and Sparks had already captured the knife guy. “Good job guys.” she honored them. “Where were you?” snapped Iron. “I captured another clone, I guess we got all of them down now.” Irons's angry expression vanished and he just nodded. “Well done,” Sparks said, virtually impressed. The three of them fell into awkward silence. Which shortly got interrupted by Deku and you. 

“Is everything alright?” you asked, trying to hide the fact that you just got impaled by a knife. “You shouldn't be fighting. Your shoulder got hurt pretty bad.” Sparks eyes observed your shoulder. “It will be fine,” you reassured her. “If you say so,” muttered Sparks. “Alright, we need to keep going, if we want to stop this monster till tomorrow.” Iron said as he walked toward the middle of the stone field. The crew followed him, mentally preparing for the last battle.

 

Shortly you've reached the middle of the mall. Now there was no violet smoke and no clones. It was your way to get to this villain. But before you could reach him, Izuku held you back. "Please be careful, dear. If your shoulder is still hurt, don't exaggerate yourself, and always stay with someone. We will win this and then we will go on a date." His eyes couldn't hide the worry that simmered in him. "I will be careful, Izu. You don't need to worry, I am still capable of fighting. We will end him." Your hand wandered to caress his cheek. He leaned shortly against your touch. Izuku took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. "It will be alright, you will see," you whisper. "I know. I am just…" he got interrupted by Iron. "Lovebirds, we don't have all day. Now get going." You chuckled lightly. "I love you, we will talk later." You ended your conversation and got going. "I love you too." He shouted after you, unsatisfied with the interruption. He took a deep breath and followed you into misery. 

Angel, Sparks, Iron, and also Infra started to fight against Mimic. He avoided their attacks swiftly and laughed about their failing attempts to kill him. "And you say you are heroes?" Without another thought, you summon a bunch of snakes to help your group. “You think silly snakes would keep me from erasing all of you? What a naive little girl you are.” snorted Mimic overbearing. You didn’t answer. Why should you? He isn't worth any of your words. You send your snakes in intense speed toward him to land the first attack and to gain the upper hand. The snakes attacked his leg, and with their sharp teeth, they bit into it. A painful scream escaped his lips as he kicked them away. “You stupid heroes. You really believe you are saving the world with your stupid work. You are ruining my plan of eternal world peace. Maybe if you’d all die it would be better for all of us. So now perish under my power.” He stretched his arms to the side and screamed like he had been summoned by a demon. “See and die. Heroes.” he laughed as a huge wave of clones entered your way. “Shit.” You gritted your teeth as one of them hit you right on the ground. This time they didn't use any of their quirks. Iron and sparks tried to fight against two of them, but with each second passing by it felt like your team was too weak. But you were a hero you couldn’t be weak. Your hands balled into a fist and landed in the faceless Clone's stomach. It stumbled backward and hissed. The gray clone locked you dead in the eyes and lunged forward to grab you now by your throat. Your feet were now above ground, and you struggled to get out of its grip. By now you could already see the black dots getting more and more. The world started to spin around you. “Yn, can you hear me? Honey?" Someone screamed and shook your body, but you couldn't respond, the world was still a blur. It took a while until you finally snapped out of it, the battlefield, the blood, and the heavy smell of sweat and debris lay in the air. Izukus' green eyes laid worryingly on you. “It's alright. I can fight again,” you reassured him. “Alright, be careful dear. I don't want you to be hurt.” he almost pleaded. “I won't. I promise. Now go and help the others.” A smile forms on your face as he vanishes through the thick dust cloud. 

You tried to get back on your feet and tried to move forward, but no one was near you, and neither did you hear any sound of fighting. “Oooohhh, darling, have you lost your friends ?” the raspy voice of Mimic snorted. “They don't need you, you are just another worthless hero. Another piece of shit. Do you really believe your greeny pansy really loves you? Maybe he just acts like it to be more liked by the society of your so-called fans, that only live in a world full of imagination.” A sigh escaped your mouth. “Maybe your right. Maybe this whole hero thing is just a lie I told myself to become famous. I never knew who I wanted to be, but now I see you standing there in this radiant light of the afternoon sun. I think I know now, it was always my destiny to be the one who kills the heroes, to clear the world of its filthiness of it. I want to work by your side.” You walked closer to him, now smiling like a mad person. Mimics' stoic expression changed to a kind of loving one, he spread out his arms as you walked closer to him. “Now child, I am glad you finally found what you've been searching for. Together, my dear, we can change the world.” He embraced you in a tight hug. “ Yes my lord. I will always be yours.” 

The world he created around you slowly vanished. You were now back on the field and a devilish smile spread across your face. “Ready to cure the world from its poison.” “Of course.” And with that said your snakes bit into the kneck of him. Blood splattered from it and he began to choke on his own blood. “You are the poison of this world, and I am going to erase you. You had no right to kill the innocent or the heroes. You're just an average psychopath. I hope you land in hell. And for the record Izuku is the most loving husband, he would never do something like that for fame.” His legs gave out and he landed on the dirty ground, surrounded by his own blood pool. 

You turned around but no one was there. The fighting noises haven't stopped. You killed him, so why were they still fighting? You ran across the field trying to find your teammates. “Where are you guys?” you screamed at the top of your lung, but nobody answered. The fighting sounds grew louder with each step you took, and now you were running. You saw Iron in the distance. “Guys I killed him.” You screamed happily, but that happiness immediately vanished as you saw the blood bath in front of you. Infra and Sparks lay right in front of you with emotionless eyes, both drenched in their own blood. “Well he isn't dead dumbass, now fight,” shouted Iron hastily. He shot another iron bar at the huge creature in front of him. “What in the actual fuck?” You whispered as you ran into the fight. You let your snakes appear and tried to help fight Mimic. “Why did you think he was dead?” asked Iron while he was producing more weapons for himself. “Well I kinda tricked him earlier and killed him, but I guess that was just a clone of himself. If I hadn't fallen for his trick maybe Infra and Sparks would still fight with us.” The realization hit you harder than you thought. “You can't change the past, what's important now is that you found us and fight with us at this moment. It's not your fault they died, even if you were here you couldn't have helped them. They were dead before Deku and I arrived.” The guilty feeling didn't vanish but you could put on a brave face. “Where is Deku?” “He is fighting him in the air we support him from the ground. Now give me one of your snakes and we will send MImic a message.” With that, he pulled out a metal spear and you put one of your snakes on it. “Now let the magic happen.” With a loud surring, the spear flew through the air. With a loud bang, it hit. And Mimic fell down on the ground. The cracking of his bones filled the now quiet air. You were surprised it was easier than you thought. “Did we do it?” You asked in disbelief. “Yes, we did it” cheered Iron and hugged you tightly.

Izuku landed now on the ground and you nearly tackled him over. “Slow down my dear.” he coughed. “We did it Izu. We did it!” You kissed him deeply not caring about the blood on his lips, coming from a scratch. “Now we need to clean up and then we can finally go home or somewhere else. I just want to forget this horrible day.” You sighed as tears of sadness and relief rolled down your cheeks. With his ripped gloves, Izuku caused your cheeks and got rid of your tears. “You didn't hurt yourself?” “No I am totally fine.” you smiled. 

And even though you lost your friend, colleagues, and a lot of citizens you were relieved that this maniac could finally be stopped and Musutafu could be a little bit safer.  

#ami writes #mha #bnha #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #my hero academia #izuku midoria x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #mha angst #mha fluff #bnha angst #bnha fluff #gn!reader #boku no hero academia #no beta we die like man #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha izuku #bnha izuku #this took months pls be kind #first writing in months #i am excited #comeback #i hope this has enoughs tags now #spelling mistakes on the max because i said so

[substituted-shinigami]

Learning to Breathe

(aka Please Remember To Put On Your Oxygen Mask Before Assisting Others)

Characters: Rukia, Renji, Byakuya, and some Fourth Division OCs, (RenRuki)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, some Angst, some Humor, Family

Rated: T (for mentions of medical tools such as needles and depictions of anxiety, but nothing is graphic or even really overly described. This story is more about the emotions than the medical drama)

Story Summary: Turns out purple eyes and short stature aren’t the only things that run in Hisana’s family, illness does as well. As Rukia and Renji try to help each other navigate through this new storm in their lives, will they remember to take time to breathe? (Rukia gets the same disease that killed Hisana (Bloodlines AU), Post TYBW, Post renruki engagement)

Click the link to read below or click here to read the story from the beginning on AO3!

(3/7)

Chapter 2: Dark Clouds

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Summary: Attention passengers, if you look out the windows to your left, you will see the approach of some dark ominous clouds. Please do not be alarmed by this new development. We can assure you that we have everything under control. (The chapter in which Rukia’s and Renji’s long appointment just gets longer.)

"I'm sorry…" A young boy's voice wept. Rukia’s brows furrowed. Her eyes blinked open to the sight of a familiar dilapidated shack.

“What? Who-” She slowly sat up, her body still aching terribly from…from what? Spearfishing? Yes, that’s right, that had to be it. She had been spearfishing all day today. It was hard work, made harder now that Renji couldn’t come with her and the other two boys were out stealing water.

“I’m sorry…It’s all my fault…” the voice continued to sob. Rukia turned towards the sound.

"Who? What-" She saw a red haired boy with a tight ponytail sitting on the opposite side of their now cold fire pit, cradling something in his arms. As Rukia’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she felt her blood run cold, "R-Renji?! Is…Is that?"

"I fell asleep and the fire went out…Mameji must have gotten too cold. I'm sorry…" Renji continued to sob, "I should have…I should have been…" Rukia slowly got up from her spot on the bare shack floor, and tip-toed over to him.

"Renji," she began quietly as she knelt beside him, "Mameji's been sick for over a week, and even worse these last few days. You were exhausted from caring for him. There…there was nothing more you could have done."

“You don’t know that!” Renji yelled, “Maybe I could have saved him! I caught this two years ago, remember? But I got better as soon as the weather warmed up! If I could just keep him warm till spring… If I could just keep the fire alive… But I didn’t. I failed him…” he hugged the body closer to himself, “I’m sorry, Mameji…”

Rukia’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She closed it again, cursing her brain for never thinking of the right words to say in these moments. Turning away, she saw their other friends sleeping in the corner of the shack.

"I…better get them up,” Rukia finally said, “That way we can all say our goodbyes before the body dissipates. In the morning we'll make a grave, okay?" Renji only nodded mutely in response, as she got up to wake their friends.

__________________________________

Rukia’s eyes slowly blinked open to the familiar sights and sounds of the exquisite Kuchiki carriage as it gently bumped its way down towards the Fourth Division. In the past, she rarely rode in the stuffy, old thing, preferring to use shunpo to get around freely instead. But as the illness slowly progressed, Rukia’s energy levels started to wane. Being a shinigami, she had better control of her reiatsu than Hisana did, and therefore was still doing a lot better comparatively. But that never stopped Byakuya from insisting that she take the carriage anyway.

On most days, this overprotection annoyed Rukia…greatly. However when she saw the dark and heavy clouds that covered the sky this morning, she had to agree it seemed like a rather prudent idea. As she rode along across the streets of Seireitei, rain drops gently tapping against the windows, and Renji’s warm presence close by her side, she would even say that the carriage felt downright cozy. So cozy, in fact, that she had apparently fallen asleep. Rukia yawned.

"Oh? Wake up already, did you? What's the matter, are my muscular arms not comfy enough for you?" Renji teased. Rukia silently looked up at him, the remnants of her dream still at the forefront of her mind. Renji’s brows furrowed. "What? What is it?"

"N-Nothing," she said as she tore her eyes away from his face, "I'd just…I'd just rather have slept on your large comfy chest is all…" Renji laughed at that and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.

“Well, you still can if you want. I’ll tell you when we’re almost there.”

“Only if you nap too,” she stated firmly, taking his other hand in hers. “I know you're tired, and it’s going to take half an hour to get there.” Renji chuckled at this idea.

“Rukia, if we both fall asleep, then who’s going to wake up before the coachman finds us and gossips about us sleeping together to all of your servants and family?”

“Oh, they already do that,” Rukia dismissed nonchalantly with a wave of her hand, “But if you're truly concerned, then I can set an alarm on my soul pager to wake us up.” But Renji simply smiled.

“Nah,” he said as he kissed the top of her head, “Let ‘em talk about us. Let no one say I don’t adore you. Besides, with how boring the rest of the Kuchiki’s are, they all need something interesting to gossip about anyway!” Rukia laughed hard at that as she cuddled closer to him.

__________________________________

About a half hour later, Rukia awoke to the sound of her soul pager ringing.

I really feel like smashing that thing… she grumbled to herself as she fished it out of her bag and flipped it open. It was the Fourth Division. She turned to look out the carriage window, and saw that they were almost already there. Are they calling just to make sure I’m on the way? Rukia wondered as she picked up the call.

“Hello?” she asked, trying not to sound as sleepy as she felt.

“Yes, this is the scheduler for the Fourth Division's Thirteenth Relief Team, Hayashi Maki. Can I speak to Kuchiki Rukia, please?”

“Yes, this is her.”

“Yes, I was just calling to ask if you could come in an hour later?” Rukia looked out the carriage window again.

“I’m afraid we just arrived…”

“Oh dear... Well unfortunately, due to low staff, we are running rather late this morning. So you can come in if you want, but I’m afraid your appointment is still being pushed back an hour.”

Great, Rukia thought, So now this three-hour stress-fest just became a four-hour one. Not to mention the fact that neither of us has eaten yet. She sighed.

“That’s fine, Ms. Hayashi, we understand. Thank you for informing us, we’ll be in when we are ready.”

“Oh, thank you so much for your understanding! Now when you do choose to enter the building, make sure you head to registration first. Just ask the security guard where it is. After leaving registration, you take a right, a left, and then another right and then you’ll be at the waiting room. Thank you again for your patience and cooperation!” And with that, she hung up the phone. Rukia sighed and closed her soul pager before stuffing it back in her bag. She looked up to see Renji was now wide awake and regarding her solemnly.

“Everything alright?” he asked hesitantly. Rukia sighed.

“No, they moved the appointment back an hour…”

“What?! And they are just now telling us?! You could have gotten an extra hour of sleep in your own bed if you knew about that earlier. Not to mention this is a fasting appointment…” Renji grumbled, scratching his head irritably.

“I know… Sorry, Renji… Since it’s going to be even longer than we thought, we really should go see if there is a restaurant nearby, and grab you something to eat.”

“What, no! Rukia, I told you I wouldn’t eat without you, and I meant it. And don’t try to argue with me about it, 'Miss If-You’re-Getting-A-Tooth-Pulled-And-Can-Only-Eat-Soup-Then-I-Will-Too Kuchiki!'” Renji said in his best approximation of Rukia’s voice, while crossing his arms. Rukia felt a blood vessel pop in her head. This was all technically true, of course, but it was disregarding several important factors as far as she was concerned.

“I’ll be fine, Renji! And at least I finished my dinner last night, unlike you who barely touched your plate!” Sighing with frustration, Rukia turned to look out the carriage window. She continued in a quieter voice, “Besides, I doubt there are even any restaurants nearby that I can still eat at anymore. I’ll probably have to wait till not just after the appointment, but after we get back to the manor. So don’t worry about me, and let’s go grab you something.”

"And I said, I’m fine to wait! Also, I’m pretty sure there is a restaurant near here that we’ve eaten at after the doctors have started giving you all those food restrictions. What about that sushi place we like?”

“Can’t have soy sauce…too much salt…”

“Oh…right, sorry. But you can eat sushi without soy sauce, you know?” Rukia shot Renji a look. “Okay, okay! You can’t eat sushi without soy sauce," He said, putting up his hands in defeat, “How about that place you like with the really good pickles? Oh wait, I guess that’s probably too much salt too… It’s really weird how much salt can affect a person’s reiatsu when they are sick…”

“You can say that again…” Rukia grumbled as she went back to staring out the window, "Apparently it's because we're spirits. While salt isn't the all propelling force to us that humans think it is, it's still not best to eat a ton of it. Even more so when we're sick."

“Ah yeah, that makes sense…" Renji replied quietly, rubbing his neck, as he tried to think of other locations that might work, "Well, what if after the appointment we went to… Oh, well actually you can't go to that restaurant anymore either…" Renji deflated, but then suddenly he perked up again, "Oh, but Hisagi told me about this new Western style bar, called Sandwiches, I Guess! You know, like those dishes that are bread stuffed with meat or other fillings that Orihime eats sometimes? It’s a la carte, so you can pick and choose which ingredients you want, so that might work!”

“Renji, I don't really want to hear about food right now… Wait,” Rukia said as she sat up suddenly with a confused look on her face. She turned towards him, “Hold on. The bar is actually called Sandwiches, I Guess?”

“Yup,” Renji nodded. Rukia’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“What do they mean ‘I Guess’? Are they sandwiches or not? And if not, what are they?!”

Renji shrugged. "I don't know, it's anyone's guess."

“…That's not their slogan, is it?”

“It most certainly is.”

“UUUUUGH!”

“I know. It's great, right?”

“I can't tell if this whole conversation made me more hungry or less hungry, but it definitely made me more stupid," Rukia replied, rubbing her temples with both hands, but her lips began to turn upwards on their own volition.

“Really?” Renji asked, his own lips turning upwards at the sight, “Hisagi said that going there was an enlightening experience for him. That he discovered a lot about himself.” Rukia side eyed him between her fingers. “But mostly he just learned that all his favorite sandwich ingredients happen to start with the letter ‘R’, roast beef, rye, and relish. But, you know, illuminating all the same.”

“This restaurant is just sounding worse and worse. I didn't even think that was possible, but it certainly was,” Rukia laughed. “Well, if that’s all you have to look forward to, I guess it isn’t so bad waiting…but if you get hungry, then please at least drink some water, okay?”

“Alright, if I get too hungry,” Renji agreed, he seemed to have relaxed a bit too, “Should we head in?”

“We could. Or since we no longer have a time limit…” - she slid closer to him on the seat again - “we could stay out here where it’s more private.”

“Oh…? Oh!” Renji said, suddenly looking quite pleased. He slyly slipped his arm around her and pulled her a little closer, smirking, “Should we make those rumors about us a little more saucy, eh, Lady Kuchiki?”

Rukia took a tight hold of his kosode, pulling herself up closer to him, their faces only inches apart, “Call me that again, and these fists go in your face,” She whispered fiercely, smiling devilishly. Renji laughed.

“Okay, okay!” - he slipped his other arm around her - “Future Mrs. Abarai…”

“J-Jerk!” She stammered, but her red face easily betrayed her true feelings. Renji laughed again, and she quickly silenced him with her lips.

#bleach #renruki #fanfiction #renji abarai #rukia kuchiki #byakuya kuchiki #post tybw #learning to breathe #L2B #bloodlines au #hurt/comfort #some angst #some humor #family

[lassuscorde]

75 PROMPTS

(that are under the cut!)

feel free to pop up to three at a time in my inbox as well as a little desc about what ya want. I won’t do full nsfw but mild/suggestive stuff is alright.

1 “can i hold your hand?” 2 “you’re making my stomach hurt. in a good way?” 3 “god, just come here, will you?” 4 “Man. Sometimes, I just really wanna squish your face. What is this, cuteness aggression? 5 “Is that … me?” 6 “ … is that my shirt?” 7 “Sit down, idiot, I’m making you a snack.” 8 “If I win, you gotta kiss me, and i dont mean a peck on the cheek.” 9 “You are the best pillow!” 10 “Let me take care of you or I will kill you myself.” 11 ”Sometimes, you remind me of a fairytale character.” 12 ”Last time I let you cook, you set the fucking sprinklers off!” 13 ”I just realized- you have really pretty eyes.” 14 “Can’t sleep? Me neither.” 15 “I didn’t-…I didn’t want you to see me cry, alright.” 16 ”Please. I just need someone to talk to.” 17 ”I dunno. I would marry you!” 18 ”Can I sleep in your room?” 19 ”You’re so warm …” 20 ”I dunno, I guess a hug would be nice?” 21 ”I just realized. I’ve never really … touched you before?” 22 ”At this rate, I’m going to run out of tissues.” 23 ”Can I hug you?” 24 ”You just look so kissable-“ 24 ”Can I play with your hair?” 25 “If you’re not careful, you might hurt that pretty face of yours.” 26 “I AM- SO SORRY— ohh god-” 27 “Are you sure it wont hurt?” ”I have no idea. Sure hope not.” 28 “Fuck, yes, I’m scared.” 29 “You’ve been so good to me. I- I wanna pay you back, okay?” 30 “Just take it off … please?” 31 “You’re … wow. Y/n, you’re beautiful.” 32 “Little short to reach, are we?” 33 “I’ve always wondered if I could pick you up.” 34 “I never realized how pretty your hands were!” 35 ”So maybe I want them to rail me against a wall, so what?” 36 ”I have a feeling I wasn’t supposed to hear that.” 37 ”And to think I thought you were just a pushover.” 38 ”No no, it’s ok, everyone wants to fuck me.” 39 ”Geez, staring problem much?” 40 ”You baited me into this, didn’t you?” 41 ”That’ll leave a mark.” 42 ”I thought you said you could take it?” 43 ”No way, you’re gonna take up all the hot water!” 44 ”A bath sounds nice.” 45 ”Look, I’m sick of you talking bad about yourself, okay?” 46 “Just because you wouldn’t fuck you doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t!” 47 ” ‘oooh I hate you so much’ look, we all know how much you wanna fuck me.” 48 ”God I am so tired of pretending to hate you.” 49 “Looks like someone likes being pinned down.” 50 “So sue me, you have a nice ass.” 51 “You’ve got such a handsome smile. Who knows what else that mouth can do?” 52 “I’m not saving your sorry ass next time.” 53 “This is not your mission!” 54 “This better be on my overtime.” 55 “Let’s put the paint down, okay? I just got this stuff polished!” 56 “Couples therapy? We’re not even together!” 57 “If they don’t shut up soon just shoot me.” 58 “There’s a reason I never take the helmet off around you people.” 59 “This is definitely safe. I promise.” 60 “Touch them and it’s my boot you’ll have up your ass.” 61 “So, I don’t mean to alarm anyone, but I lost the spider.” 62 “You’re planning something aren’t you. You’re never this nice to me!” 63 “War criminals? Please, we’ve done worse than that.” 64 “I’ll miss you, dumbass.” 65 “Here, give me your hands.” 66 “It’s simple, I’ll show you.” 67 “And this is why we all need therapy.” 68 “If this is a dream I’m gonna kill you in the morning.” 69 “Keeping secrets, are we?” 70 “Deep breaths, okay? Look at me.” 71 “What do mean they’re not coming?” 72 “I think I should get the big gun this time.” 73 “Yeah, I had a feeling you didn’t get laid much.” 74 “This is a terrible plan. I’m in.” 75 “Come baaack, I’m cold nowww.”

#corde writes #prompts #prompt list #rvb

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

[asset35-maya]

@inverted-writes

[Fowler discovers Reed900]

Captain Jeffrey Fowler was mystified.

Everyone said he should just be thankful, but he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t the head of an investigative department for nothing. He had to get to the bottom of this.

For months he struggled with his best detective and the android partner assigned to him. The human vehemently refused to cooperate with anything the RK900 suggested. When push came to shove, he would resort to violent insults and name-calling.

The android had a nasty temper of his own too. Every one of Detective Gavin Reed’s outbursts was matched by a smashed coffee mug or a case file hurled across the bullpen. The duo’s solve rate was simply terrible and Fowler found himself disciplining them almost every single day.

Then, one Monday morning, just as he was about to tell them he’d split them up and assign new partners, Fowler saw them working together on something in complete silence. Bemused, he decided to let them be.

And then the results started flying in. Gavin and Nines ploughed through months of backlog within a week and even began to touch cold cases. Fowler was alarmed. What changed?

Everyone from his wife to the janitor android at the station told him not to look a gift horse in the mouth. But Fowler was a police detective through and through. He thought for hours about what could be the reason for the sudden cooperation between two people he legitimately thought might kill each other.

After an entire night spent awake and half a bottle of whisky, he decided to outsource the “inquiry”. To none other than Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his loyal android partner, Connor.

Neither was aware of the reason for the change in dynamic between Gavin and Nines, but they agreed to keep a lookout. Discreetly. While the pair were finally getting along with each other, they were still far from polite and approachable.

Another week passed. The enigmatic duo continued to crack cases like peanut shells. Fowler sat scratching his head. Hank and Connor tried their best to casually investigate and report back to Fowler.

“Gavin says he might not hate droids anymore but that doesn’t mean he likes Nines.”

“Nines said he very much thinks Detective Reed is of inferior intelligence and would be better off working in a garbage dump. But then again his LED was bright yellow when he said that so I’m not quite sure what to think, Captain.”

“Don’t tell me you two nincompoops asked them directly!”

“Absolutely not, Jeff! We just asked them how’s work??!! They’re the ones that mentioned each other right off the bat.”

“Ah-hah! Yes! They’re overcompensating! There’s something they’re hiding! I want you both to keep your eyes GLUED to those idiots. I want answers. STAT!”

Fowler dismissed them and immediately set about assigning some very tricky cases that he was sure would cause a difference of opinion and conflict.

One more week passed uneventfully. No arguments erupted in the bullpen. No guns were drawn. All cases had good progress. Fowler even saw Nines place a cup of coffee on the grumpy detective’s desk.

He summoned Connor to his office.

“Alright. What gives? There has to be something behind all this peace and quiet. Don’t tell me you’ve found nothing!”

“Er… Captain… I really think they might have just put their differences aside.”

“Bullshit! Men like that don’t just pipe down for nothing.”

“How do you know they don’t?”

“Because I was a rabid bulldog just like them! Getting into fights and pissing contests like nobody’s business! The only time I mellowed down was after I met my lady…

OH. OHHHH… that’s what it is!”

“I beg your pardon, Captain?”

“Connor. The powers that be may strike me down for my impropriety but I don’t care. I need you and Hank to follow them home tonight.”

Fowler didn’t wait for a response and merely waved the RK800 off. He rubbed his hands together, glad to finally be getting to the bottom of the mystery. He should have thought of it before! If it ever suddenly transpired that a man was using his head, it was likely to be the one between his legs rather than on his shoulders.

But who in their right mind could tame either of those wild beasts? Only a saint.

Fowler smiled fondly at the framed photo of his wife on his desk. Just like him, she had always been a fiery one. The only one he mended his ways for.

Later that night he checked in with Connor.

J. FOWLER: What’s your status?

RK800_CONNOR: Hello Captain. I’m having dinner with Hank. Well, Hank is having dinner. I’m just here. It’s a lovely Italian place. You should come here with your wife.

J. FOWLER: What!! Why didn’t you follow Nines?

RK800_CONNOR: I did.

J. FOWLER: Then why didn’t Hank follow Gavin?

RK800_CONNOR: He did.

Fowler took a deep breath and pinched his nose. If Gavin and Nines were a pain in the ass, so were Hank and Connor in their own way. Managing his staff was like herding cats. If he had any hair he’d be losing it.

J. FOWLER: You BOTH followed your respective quarry to the SAME location?

RK800_CONNOR: Affirmative. I can provide evidence if you like.

Before Fowler could reply, an image loaded into the chat. It made him spit out the sip of water he’d taken.

Sitting on the same side of a cosy booth draped in fairy lights, were two familiar figures. They were dressed more smartly than Fowler had ever seen them. There was a glass of red wine and a flute of sparkling thirium on their table, but neither paid their drink much attention.

Gavin was leaning into his partner’s side and had his head on his shoulder. Nines held one of the human’s hands aloft and was pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

Fowler’s phone clattered onto the wooden kitchen table. His wife tsked from where she stood stirring the stew she was making.

“Didn’t I tell you to not work when you’re not supposed to be working! Now look at you all stressed at dinner time!”

“I ain’t working, Jess. Promise.”

“Then what’s got your old ass all riled up?”

“It’s really… well… hmmmm…”

“Use your words, Jeff. I know you got ’em.”

The phone buzzed and Fowler snatched it up. As eager to please as ever, Connor was following up with live video feed from his optical units.

His jaw dropped as Gavin put his hand on the RK900’s cheek and guided his face downwards. Nines wrapped his arms around the human and their lips met. The kiss was not a brief one, and something that Fowler would have never imagined in a million years.

His face burned and he slammed the phone face down onto the table.

“JEFFREY FOWLER!”

“It ain’t work, it ain’t work!”

“For the love of-”

“It’s just something I got surprised by, and you know how rare that is. It really is not my business what my staff gets up to when they’re off duty, but hooo boyyy… this was a real shocker.”

“Is it a breach of code?”

“No… I mean, potentially… but nah… I don’t bring in policy unless there’s a complaint.

Uh… you know those two kids I was telling you about? The ones that fought like cats and dogs until a couple weeks ago and then started playing super nice?”

“Mhmmm.”

“I just found out they’re TOGETHER. I suspected they finally chilled out ’cause they both found someone nice to hold them down, but I didn’t think for a second that they’d fall for EACH OTHER. They’re so damn loved up and WOW. I guess, it’s just blowing my mind.”

Deputy Commissioner Jessica Fowler shook her head indulgently and began doling her famous stew into two bowls. She had been with her husband for nearly thirty years and he still found new ways to amuse her.

“Jeff, honey, first things first. If you think you know people just because they work for you… you don’t. You will always, ALWAYS be in for a surprise and I think that’s a very good thing.

Second. From what you told me about their fights, I would have guessed this was exactly where things were headed from day one.”

“Now don’t act all clairvoyant.”

“Oh shut up, Jeff. Think back to how you and I met.”

“Oh those were the days. We could tie our laces standing up and neither of us snored.”

“Yeah, we could also disarm, capture and cuff the most violent of assailants without breaking a sweat, but we’re digressing.

I’m talking about how every attempt at starting a conversation was like entering a snake pit.

We were so young and attractive and smart and so damn capable. I had all this amazing energy and when I ended up in the same patrol unit as you, it was like looking in the mirror and seeing myself… someone I wanted to be… AND someone I desired. At the same damn time. I know you felt it too, which is why you’d never miss the chance to show me up… but also try to impress me… and also genuinely help me?”

Fowler buried his face in his hand and laughed at the memory as he helped himself to the delicious stew. He nodded at his wife earnestly and didn’t speak on the matter further.

While his own courtship hadn’t begun with as much vitriol as Gavin and Nines, he found himself relating to them completely.

People who were built to pursue excellence were strangely threatened by one another, yet drawn inexplicably close together.

It took a lot of trial and error to see how to fit together, but once things clicked… that was it.

His phone buzzed twice.

HANK.ANDERSON: Hey boss. Add this to the department expenses.

HANK.ANDERSON: [Attachment]

Fowler groaned as he opened the file to see a long restaurant bill with a generous tip. If there was a price to solving a mystery… he sure knew what it was now.

His phone buzzed yet again.

RK800_CONNOR: [Image]

It was Gavin and Nines, holding up middle fingers.

#reed900 #rk900 #gavin900 #gavin reed #gavin reed x nines #gavin x nines #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh #dbh fowler #jeffrey fowler #dbh fanfic #detroit become human #my writing

[ladyartemesia]

The Challenge

◐ PART II of The Alpha ◐

◐ PART I ◐ SERIES MASTERLIST ◐

Pairing: Alpha Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: (for this chapter) Mature (rating will go up)

Warnings: mentions of ritual combat, sexually suggestive language, ABO sexual dynamics, discussion of marking, mating, and claiming

Word Count: 1100

You fell to your knees, uttering the one word that would complete the ritual and seal both your fates.

“Alpha.”

Then all hell broke loose. Noise and movement erupted on every side.

“Oh my goddess, Yoonji is gonna be so pissed she missed this!” Min Yoongi whooped loudly from across the circle.

Your forehead furrowed in confusion as chaos escalated around you. The blindfold was still in place as you were technically not permitted to remove it till the ceremony was officially dismissed.

What is happening? What’s wrong?

Suddenly the chief elder charged into the fray, waving his hands wildly like a spastic pixie.

“My brothers and sisters we must - er - strive to consider this unexpected turn of events as-“

“What have you done?!”

You recognized that voice - your mother - hissing frantically in your ear. She must have breached the circle to get to you.

A hand (probably your mother again) wrapped around your elbow, yanking you roughly to your feet and you yelped in pain-

“STOP!”

The person manhandling you froze immediately. Silence crashed down like a hammer.

“...Take your hands off my mate.”

The words were spoken softly this time, but there was no mistaking the weight of an alpha command. The grip on your arm fell away without hesitation.

Unease began to churn heavily in the pit of your stomach.

You didn’t recognize his voice.

You had no idea who your mate was.

Jimin could feel his heart pounding violently in his chest.

The first moments after your scent invaded his senses had been euphoric... but reality pierced his lust-addled haze when your mother began dragging you away from him. And when you cried out-

He reacted on instinct alone.

Jimin could count on one hand the number of times he used an alpha command, but seeing you in distress had pulled it from him effortlessly.

The weight of several hundred stares poured over him in the oppressive soundlessness that followed his outburst.

Then-

“Luna rex provocatione.”

The words cut confidently through the air - each syllable dripping with strength and authority - much like the man who spoke them.

Kim Namjoon had issued a formal challenge.

“Well... That was a flaming disaster.”

Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, Taehyung. Your grasp of the obvious remains unparalleled.”

The chief elder hauled Jimin and his family into the council chamber immediately after Namjoon’s challenge. Taehyung had simply followed along because he was nosy.

“So what happens now?” His hand ran absently through his hair as he addressed the pack’s interim leader. “What does the challenge mean?”

“You’d know if you hadn’t skipped Alpha Camp every year,” Taehyung interjected.

Jimin just barely resisted the urge to strangle him.

Alpha Camp was an annual training session that involved all the alphas holing up in a cave at the top of the mountain to have profound discussions about “the great burden of leadership” in between fighting each other for fun and eating poorly cooked meats.

Jimin shivered. He attended one time and immediately decided that he’d rather be tossed naked into a hornets nest than endure another second of Alpha Camp.

“Yes. Well. Tragically my grandmother in Seoul took ill-”

“Every year?”

“She’s quite fragile.”

“If that is all-” the chief elder interrupted with a pointed look at both of them, “the situation we find ourselves in is rare, but not unheard of. Still... it’s been nearly two hundred years...”

His eyes rested on Jimin with something that looked suspiciously like sympathy before continuing.

“Luna rex provocatione is quite specific. Namjoon intends to fight you for the right to mate our Luna.”

Jimin’s wolf snarled viciously.

“Over my dead body.”

“I think that’s the idea.”

Taehyung again - but this time Jimin was too alarmed to be irritated.

“It-It’s a fight to the death? I have to kill him?”

The chief elder looked incredibly uncomfortable.

“Technically... no. You do not have to kill him. You simply have to force a surrender. However...”

Everyone in the room leaned forward unconsciously.

“However?”

“In order for the Luna to accept a new mate, her old mate must die. You do not need to kill him ...but he does need to kill you.”

“Will someone please tell me what happened back there?”

“I was about to ask you the same question!”

The veins in your mother’s forehead were throbbing so fiercely they could be seen from space.

You sighed and aggressively massaged your temple in an effort to build patience. The seething matriarch of your family had never been a particularly bad mother - but she hadn’t been a particularly good one either.

Still...

She was your mother.

“Aunt Isa,” cousin Seokjin soothed diplomatically from the corner, “perhaps we should all just take a deep breath and consider the situation.” His gaze met yours supportively. “After all... our Luna completed the ritual correctly. She followed the scent of her mate and acknowledged him-“

“Who?” you cut in impatiently, “Who did I acknowledge?”

The corner of Seokjin’s lips twitched a bit in the ghost of a smile.

“Park Jimin.”

Your jaw literally dropped.

No wonder everyone had lost their collective minds.

“But... but Park Jimin hates me. He never speaks to me! He won’t even look at me.” You paled. “What if he rejects me-”

Jin snorted.

“Oh I wouldn’t worry too much about that. No one who saw the two of you today-” he cleared his throat significantly, “I mean he seemed pretty into it.”

Bile and doubt burned bitterly at the back of your throat.

“... That could just be pheromones. I’m telling you Jin, he’s never bothered with me like the others. I barely know what he looks like.”

That wasn’t true.

Park Jimin was a living, breathing work of art with plump pink lips and a backside most women would commit murder for.

You knew exactly what he looked like... what he smelled like...

Heat twisted deliciously in your gut.

And he’s mine.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” your mother’s voice interrupted unpleasantly, “because Namjoon is going to kill him.”

“How are you going to force a surrender?” Taehyung asked quietly. “Have you ever tried to compel another alpha?”

Jimin shook his head. It was common for alphas to unleash alpha commands on one another to sort out which of the two was more dominant, but he had never cared one way or the other.

“Has anyone ever successfully compelled Namjoon?”

He already knew the answer, yet he found himself asking anyway.

Taehyung gulped.

“Never.”

If you are already in the taglist, then I will automatically tag you for the next part! If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

And also please tell me what you thought of this update 🥺 Feedback really does fuel my writing and hearing from you means a lot to me!

#park jimin #bts #BTS Jimin #bts park jimin #Jimin smut #park Jimin smut #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #bangtanidx #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #BTS smut #alpha Jimin #BTS ABO #abo #alpha #omega #werewolves

[itsapeterthing]

Paint || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter sees a figure walking through the trees during his run and investigates only to meet a girl named y/n painting in the woods.

a/n: requested by anon! a short and sweet meeting story.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter was almost regretting his decision to join the Avengers at the moment. Nearly getting himself killed dozens of times by adversaries was nothing compared to the run Cap had him and the other Avengers going on in what he considered to be the middle of nowhere. Although he had superhuman abilities that had definitely aided in his run at the beginning, he could feel himself struggling for air and his legs beginning to ache.

A few of the others had already fallen behind a while back and Peter felt himself about to trip over his own feet as he began to run slower.

“Getting tired?” None other than Steve himself asked, running up behind him.

Peter jumped, but then began to push himself to run faster. “N-no. No sir.” Peter huffed. “This... is... easy.”

Cap eyed Peter. “You should take a breather, kid. There’s no harm in that.”

Although Peter was always one to go out of his way to impress the Avengers- especially Captain America- he could barely breathe and his whole body felt like it was just begging for him to take a break.

“A- are you... sure?” Peter asked in between breaths.

“You know your way back?” Steve asked, matching Peter’s pace.

Peter, running out of breath, no longer able to speak just nodded.

“Alright kid. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

And with that, he picked up his pace, leaving Peter behind. Peter slowed to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees, heaving and struggling for breath. He attempted to salute in Cap’s direction, but he had already run past Peter’s point of view.

Still breathing heavy and exhausted, Peter stumbled over to the side of the road and flopped down on his back onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and as he did he saw a figure making their way through the trees.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “H- hey!” He called, but no one answered.

Peter pulled himself up, balancing himself on his elbows to get a better look before calling again. “Hello?”

After he once again did not receive an answer, he pulled himself onto his feet. He questioned whether he really did see someone or if the figure was just a figment of his imagination. He was unable to ask any of the others for reassurance since they either fell behind a while ago or they were ahead with Steve. Deciding to trust this own instincts, Peter began walking through the woods, using his “Peter tingle” as Aunt May liked to call it, to know where to go.

He stopped when he heard the snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves. Following the noise, he carefully walked over the branches scattered across the ground, not trying to alarm whoever he had just followed into the woods. As he approached where the noise had come from, he stopped and attempted to hide himself behind a tree.

In front of him he saw a girl pulling a chair up and off from the top of a table, onto the ground. He watched as she sat down in the chair, opening the bag at her side and pulling out a pad of paper, along with a tray of what he assumed to be paint and brushes. 

He knew he probably should have turned around and that this was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but watch as she painted. He was lured in by how peaceful she seemed. Around them was a peaceful quiet, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze flowing through the trees able to be heard. 

It was so much different than what he had been used to. Even before he discovered that he had superpowers, he had lived in the city and there seemed to never be a moment of complete silence- from sirens at all hours of the day to groups of people chatting outside his window at all hours of the night. He thought he had found peace in the noise, but he had barely known the peacefulness of quiet.

Now that he was Spider-Man, it was even harder to find peace whether he was in the city protecting locals or tagging along with the Avengers to save humanity. He was so busy all of the time, it was difficult for him to find peace and quiet, never mind the serenity he felt around him in this exact moment.

Just as he was becoming lost in his own thoughts, he was pulled out of them by the snapping of a twig beneath his feet. As he did, his eyes went wide and he watched as the unnamed girl, jumped from her seat to her feet, scattering brushes and papers along the ground.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry!” He spoke.

“Who are you?” She asked. “Did you... did you follow me?”

He could tell her heart rate was speeding up, worried that some random boy had followed her into the woods. That’s fair, he thought.

“No!” He said, quickly. “I mean yeah- yes. But not in a creepy way! I just saw someone walk into the woods and I called and no one said anything so I- I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

She just stared at him.

“You know what? I should go. Yeah. I’m gonna leave you alone.” He said, about to turn around.

“Wait.” She called, finally speaking up and stopping him. “Are you... an Avenger?” 

Now his heart was the one racing. “What? No!” He chuckled nervously. “Why... what would make you think that?”

She smiled, pointing at his t-shirt. “Because you have their logo on your shirt and it’s the only place out here for like a mile.”

Peter glanced down at the gray t-shirt he was wearing with the Avengers logo printed across his chest. Quickly, he attempted to spin a lie. “Oh this? No. Nope.” He shook his head. “I just... work... at the Avengers Compound. I... hand out waters and stuff to um Thor and ya know... other... people.”

There was a pause as the they stared at each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You told him, moving your hand out to shake his.

He calmed down as you introduced yourself and your own heart settled, knowing now that you weren’t scared of him- meaning you either believed what he said or just simply accepted his lie about working at the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a whole lie, he told himself though. He did “work” there and occasionally, as the youngest person there, was asked to fetch water from time to time.

“Peter.” He said, taking your hand. “So... what are you doing out here?”

You then remembered what you had come out here for in the first place. You spun around turning back to look at your set up. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “I come out here sometimes to paint. It's really peaceful, you know?”

Peter nodded. He had just been thinking the same thing before he first saw you. It had been difficult for him to know peace for a long time, but here he felt as though he could breath even if it was for a short time.

“I know what you mean.” He told you, then glancing at the mess he had caused when he first spooked you. “Let me help.” He smiled, gesturing to the paint brushes and loose papers scattered along the floor.

You turned around, looking at the mess behind you. “You don’t have to. It’s okay!” You told him, striding over to your workspace and beginning to haphazardly organize the area.

Despite your assurances that you could clean up yourself, Peter followed behind you and began picking up your scattered paintings on the ground.

“You did all of these yourself?” He asked.

You watched as Peter stared at each of your quick paintings in his hand. He, admittedly, did not understand much about art, but he was in awe at the work he saw in front of him. The paintings he held in his hands depicted what he believed to be fairies sitting light as a feather on flowers and hidden in the trees. The design itself was soft and gentle and he was afraid to ruin something so precious in his hands. 

“Yeah,” You chuckled.

“They’re really good.” He told you, impressed. “I wish I could do stuff like this. How do you even do this?”

You smiled. A part of you was always nervous showing your paintings to someone else, especially a stranger, but it made you feel warm inside to have this cute, sweaty boy complimenting you on your art and impressed with your skill.

“Everyone has their thing.” You told him. “What about you?”

Peter then thought about his abilities, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t divulge on his strengths without the risk of exposing his identity. Although he couldn’t share that part of himself with you- someone he just met- it made him remember who he was without his abilities- the skills and talents he possessed without the assistance of an accidental spider bite.

“My friend and I build lego sets.” He shrugged.

“That can’t be it.” You laughed. “Come on! What are things you’re good at?”

Peter hadn’t been asked that question in regards to just himself in a while. He felt that people only cared about him recently because he was Spider-Man, not because he was Peter Parker. It felt good for someone to care about him for more than the things he couldn’t control.

“Sciency stuff I guess.” He told you as the two of you stood up and he handed you back your paintings.

You smiled, accepting the pages back and placing them on the table. “See! And you thought you weren’t good at anything.”

Peter smiled before scratching the back of his neck. “So... do you always hang out here in your free time?”

You sat back in your chair, this time organizing your desk space again. You placed your current work-in-progress in front of you and set out your paints. Taking a brush from one of those scattered across the table and dipping it in your desired color you laughed. “Not all the time. Why do you ask?”

Peter felt himself stiffen up. He knew why, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It wasn’t often he met new people and felt comfortable enough around them, but around you, there was a carefree air. Although he had barely learnt anything about you besides your name and your inclination for painting in the wilderness, he wanted to learn more about you.

“Oh... well... you know...” He began. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? Not in the woods I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just- you know-”

At that he heard the strokes of your brush halt on the page as you lifted it and set it down in the glass of water in front of you. You turned back in your chair to look at him, leaning your arm over the back of it. “Like a date?” You asked, cutting him off.

Even though Peter had been through a lot that most teenagers his age had never experienced- that some would even claim required an excessive amount of bravery- he still got flustered when you asked him whether it was a date or not. He thought you were interesting and wanted to get to know you regardless. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in going on a date with you, but he also didn’t want to risk facing rejection and embarrassment.

What do you have to lose? He asked himself.

“I’m sorry if that was forward-” You began as he took a bit longer than you had anticipated for him to answer.

“Yeah. Like a date.” He cut you off. “If you want to anyway... you don’t have to.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since you first met him a few minutes ago, you smiled. “I’d like that.”

And with that you and Peter exchanged numbers before he insisted you go back to painting and that people would begin looking for him soon if he didn’t get back to his run. When his feet hit the road to start running again, he felt a new bolt of energy and pride rush through him as he thought about the cool painter girl’s number he had just gotten in the woods and the date he would share with you that upcoming weekend.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x yn

[rainguk]

perfect pitch | ksj

⁕ summary; your stand partner this year is, to put it simply, insufferable. with a rare sense of perfect pitch and a stunning face to boot, this boy's ego is absolutely off the charts... but you'd be lying if you said you didn't care about him anyway.

⁕ pairing; seokjin x reader

⁕ rating; pg-13

⁕ words; 3.9k

⁕ genre; crack, fluff - stand partners idiots to lovers (with a lil bit of enemies in there), high school au, orchestra au

⁕ warnings; swearing, threats but like nothing violent happens LOL, seokjin's sense of humor: there's like one mildly inappropriate joke (i'm sorry bach), super cliche rain scene i apologize

⁕ notes; this is based off of infuriatingly true events in my life because people with perfect pitch just LOVE flexing it like i'll drop my fork on the table and my friend's just like "oh wow that was a B flat" aaaaggghjsdjsdf anyways... i had a lot of fun writing this and i'm nearing the end of another longer fic i'm writing so please look forward to that :D hope you enjoy!!! + if you ever want me to tag you in my fics just let me know and i will <3 plus this is unedited and disgustingly cringy as it nears the end so read at your own risk

⁕ tags; @imdamconfused @sunghoonight-x @iminchaosnow

⁕ song; butter (bts)

masterlist

You’re teetering dangerously on the edge, a mere few seconds away from stabbing your stand partner in the eye with whatever you can use as a weapon.

“Hey, are you okay?” Seokjin cuts into your murderous thoughts, alarmed. “You look… truth be told, Y/N, you look like you want to kill someone.”

“If you don’t shut up about how flat my A is, that someone might just end up being you.”

“How romantic.”

Your bow slides off your violin with a cadence of squeaky notes. “Can you at least stop flirting with me while I’m trying to tune this thing?!”

He smiles, a bright, brilliant thing that shows off all his perfect teeth. You swallow, heart suddenly racing a thousand times faster; it’s no secret that Kim Seokjin is probably the biggest pain in the neck you’ve ever met, but it’s also true that he is insanely good-looking. And you’re not about to deny it.

“You like it, though.”

Well, shit.

“Not everyone’s head over heels in love with you,” you retort, trying desperately to throw him off your trail. You know what happens with popular kids like him; once it’s known that you have a soft spot for them, everyone pounces on you, bombarding you with questions and snide remarks and rumors.

Of course, it’s complicated — because how on earth could you want to rip off someone’s head and kiss them at the same time?

But you tell yourself that it’s only because he looks like that; not because he easily gets you to laugh like it’s nobody’s business, and certainly not because he looks out for you in the littlest ways; leaving his rosin out on the stand for you to use and lending you a pencil when you need one.

Kim Seokjin is an insufferable little shit, yes. But he’s a friendly insufferable little shit. And you would honestly be so down to hang out with him and get to know him better, save for one little thing that’s been getting in your way.

His perfect fucking pitch.

Being stand partners with someone naturally gifted with such a sense is both a blessing and a curse. Countless times, Seokjin has saved your ass from being questioned by Mrs. Choi by letting you know silently that you’re a little too sharp, or playing in the wrong key entirely. (That last one has happened before.) Sometimes you can’t hear Namjoon, the principal violinist, too well from where you’re seated, so you’ve relied on Seokjin on many occasions to tune your strings correctly.

However, it irks you equally as much when he uses it against you, stopping you mid-piece to let you know that your C# sounds more like a D to him. No one’s perfect, and certainly not you — but you try, and to be shot down every single time by someone who thinks it’s absolutely funny to watch you repeatedly attempt to fix your pitch issues is purely exhausting.

“Hey, Y/N—”

“What?” you demand, sighing as you turn to him.

“Wanna hear a joke?”

“No—”

“Why did Bach have twenty children?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh my god—”

He continues anyway, ignoring your plea with that mischievous grin, “Because he had no organ stops!”

Seokjin is trying his best not to laugh at his own joke, shoulders shaking at the punch line. You can’t help it yourself, a giggle bursting out of your own chest as you cover your mouth.

“That was horrendous,” you tell him once you catch your breath again. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Oh, worry not,” he proclaims, smiling widely, “I can do far better.”

“Wait, no—”

“What tone does a piano falling down a mineshaft make?”

You furrow your brows, thinking. “I don’t know,” you shake your head after a few seconds. “What is it?”

“A flat minor.”

Your jaw drops open as you process it, and Seokjin just watches you in amusement. “You should be banned from making these kinds of jokes,” you tell him. “Seriously.”

“Admit it, I’m hilarious,” he counters. “I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

He did, you’ve got to acknowledge. He always does, in some way, now that you think about it. Whenever you end up coming to rehearsal in a bad mood, it’s always because of Seokjin that you leave the auditorium with a smile on your face.

The realization startles you like nothing else — you hadn’t known before that he played such a role in your daily life.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he starts again, “We have a concert tonight.”

“Yeah…” You turn to him, eyebrow raised. “You forgot about the biggest performance of the year?”

Seokjin nods, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Yeah. My bad. You’re coming, right?”

“Duh,” you reply, fishing a block of rosin out of your case. “It’s almost half of my grade; no way I can skip. Besides, I like performing.”

“You do?”

“What are you so surprised for?” you ask him playfully. “I do enjoy it. I might not be good — not as good as you — but I like it. I like playing together with everyone, being able to hear every other part fit in with mine perfectly.” You frown. “Now if you asked me to play solo, I wouldn’t do it for anything in the world. Ensemble performances are far better.”

“You’re good,” Seokjin says quietly, looking at you — it’s like he’s taking you in, letting his eyes linger on you for a little while longer. “Don’t think that you’re not. You sound nice, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze for several breathless seconds before scoffing, turning away. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!”

“I don’t need empty compliments fr—”

Your bickering is cut short by Mrs. Choi walking onstage, a stack of sheet music in her hand which is promptly handed to Namjoon for him to distribute to the entire orchestra. You don’t offer your usual smile when he gives you two, and it’s with an impassive expression that you hand the extra to your stand partner.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Maybe you’ve made it more awkward between you two — but what else could have happened? Had you been hoping he’d magically fall in love with you and kiss you and you would have gone on dates?

No, of course not. This is Kim Seokjin you’re talking about; and besides, no matter how much you manage to soften up to him one moment, he’ll immediately make you want to murder him the next.

“Hey, Y/N… um — your D is just, you know, a little bit sharp—”

“Kim Seokjin, I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You, my dear, are just overcomplicating this for yourself,” Taehyung declares after listening to you rant about your problematic stand partner over lunch. “What’s the issue? You like him — don’t you shake your head at me, Y/N, you’re as obvious as an open book — and he clearly likes you. Why don’t you just date him?”

“It’s not that simple,” you grumble, brutally stabbing another piece of chicken. “I can’t just walk up to him and ask him out, Tae. Plus, he doesn’t like me, he just likes flirting with everyone he lays his eyes on.”

“From what you’re telling me, it sure does sound like it.”

“Taehyung…”

“Come on, you can’t possibly be that clueless, Y/N.”

“No,” you insist. “He’s a pain in the ass, and he enjoys getting a rise out of me, and he flexes that dumb pitch power of his whenever he can.”

“But you like him...”

“You’re not helping!”

This is where Jimin decides to intervene, tired of your back and forth arguing. “She has a point, Tae. But,” he says to you. “He’s also right. You need to take some kind of action.”

“Yeah, but what?”

Taehyung claps his hands, a telltale sign of a new idea. “Flirt back!”

“Okay, absolutely not—”

Jimin grabs you suddenly, shaking your shoulders. “Wait, think about it!” he exclaims, eyes wide. “It can work! That way you can see if he actually does like you, and you won’t publicly embarrass yourself by confessing to him, either!”

“On second thought, I’d have preferred to see the public embarrassment—”

“Shut up, Tae, you’re just making her feel worse!”

That makes you laugh; contrary to Jimin’s statement, your best friends certainly have succeeded in making you feel just a little bit better.

“Don’t worry, the feeling’s mutual,” you tease. “Maybe I owe him a dose, actually, because I’ve seen firsthand a particularly painful confession back in n—”

“Y/N! Don’t you dare bring that up!”

Amidst the chaos of Taehyung screeching while trying to attack you with a spoon and Jimin holding him back, someone taps on your shoulder lightly; a momentary distraction from this madness, if you will.

“Oh. You,” you respond when greeted with the gently smiling face of Kim Seokjin. “Did you need anything?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, instead showing you his closed fist. “Wanted to give you something.”

“If it’s another one of my strings that you’ve borrowed and also broken, then you can keep it, thanks.”

Seokjin shakes his head, chuckling. “Not that, Y/N. I always throw out the strings I break; don’t worry. I just thought you should have this.”

With that, he places a small wooden box on your lunch bag — at a closer look, you realize it’s a block of rosin. Brand new, too, by the looks of it — when you take off the bright blue lid, there are no scratches on the surface, no sign of wear and tear.

“For me?” You look at him, surprised to be met with a rather fond gaze you’re not used to. “Why?”

“Noticed the one you had was basically falling apart,” he says nonchalantly, attempting to mask the slight tremble in his voice and the blush on his cheeks. “I mean, come on — how are you gonna keep your bow in good shape with those tiny chunks of this stuff?”

“Oh,” is all you can reply, staring at the gleaming black cube in your hand. “I — thanks, I guess.”

“No problem.” He’s back to his bright, grinning self again, all self-confidence and smug smiles. “See you tomorrow,” he tells you, before waving to your friends. “Have a nice lunch, guys.”

It takes Jimin and Taehyung precisely fourteen seconds after Seokjin leaves for his own table to lose their shit.

“Was he looking out for you?”

“Did he actually just give you a new block of rosin?!”

“And you still don’t wanna date this guy?”

“You guys are violinists! Gifting each other supplies is basically your love language!”

You fidget with the rosin, smoothing your thumb over the lid. “No, that’s just how he is,” you defend. “He always lends me rosin when I need it.”

“And you always lend him extra strings,” Taehyung says, a teasing smile on his face. They’re kind of right, you realize when you think about it. Never has Seokjin actually given you a block to keep, and though you might be overestimating the significance of the gesture, it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

“Okay, anyways,” Jimin changes the topic, “How are we feeling about tonight’s concert?”

“I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “We’ve got everything under control — Mrs. Choi was afraid the cellos would screw up their solo section, but they managed to pull it together today and they sounded great.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” Taehyung sighs. “Not when the tenors keep screwing up their long note—”

“That wasn’t me! That was Jeon Jungkook!”

“Yeah, sure—”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Come on, we are not arguing about this right now. I’m sure you guys will sound fine, you always do. Plus, Jeon has a really sweet voice.”

“I guess so,” Taehyung shrugs. “But I think the highlight of tonight is going to be Y/N getting to see her guy all dressed up,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No!” You exclaim a little too quickly, cheeks red. “Why would you say something like that?!”

“Because you’re whipped for him—”

“I am most certainly not—”

Jimin laughs out loud, almost toppling off of his chair. “You know, Y/N, we might have believed you if you weren’t redder than a fucking tomato right now—”

“PARK JIMIN! NOT YOU TOO!”

As luck would have it, you’re a solid ten minutes late.

Call time was at six o’clock, and here you are; slamming the car door shut as you wave a hasty goodbye to your father and run to the main entrance, all the while trying not to get drenched in the rain.

(Your folder and the music inside it are probably already soaked, but that’s an issue for another time.)

You hurry down the stairs, pushing the double doors open with a quick apology to Mrs. Choi, who gives you a stern look but says nothing else. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding as you slide into your seat, already unlatching your case.

“You’re late.”

You twist your neck to give your stand partner a blank stare. “I’m aware.”

“You look really nice,” he blurts out next, blinking faster than usual.

“Thanks?” You try and laugh it off, fastening your shoulder rest to the back of your violin. You’re not wearing anything fancy, just a flowy black dress with your hair tied back, but his remark renders you speechless for a split second “So do you.”

You manage to compliment him nonchalantly, but your heart is beating twice as fast, eyes admiring his parted, fluffy hair, the white dress shirt impeccable on his figure. And his lips…

Shit. You really are down bad, but you don’t have time to dwell on it — Mrs. Choi is starting the last piece already, and you’re scrambling to have your instrument ready by the time the first violins start with their little intro.

Seokjin laughs at you quietly, but inhales sharply when you start to rosin your bow hair. “You kept it,” he says softly, nodding at the block in your hands.

“Yeah,” you swallow, suddenly self-conscious. “I did.”

“Didn’t think you would.”

“I’m not that ungrateful,” you wrinkle your nose at him. “Of course I kept it, Seokjin.”

“Jin.”

“Huh?”

“Jin,” he repeats, flicking a strand of chestnut hair away from his eyes. “That’s what my friends call me.”

“Since when am I your friend?”

“Would you rather not be?”

“Would you rather be?”

Seokjin — Jin, rather — frowns down at you. “Stop asking questions to my questions!”

“You did it first!” you exclaim, laughing. “Hypocrite! Answer mine, then!”

He looks at you for a long moment, like he’s taking his sweet time choosing the right words to say to you. “Since now,” he decides finally, firmly. “You are now. I want you to be mine. My friend,” he clarifies, turning deep red as he says it.

“I thought you hated me,” you muse. “And I was pretty sure you thought I was the lamest kid ever because I couldn’t play a single thing right.”

“Of course not,” Jin shakes his head vehemently. “You’re cool, Y/N. A little tone deaf, but cool.”

“Take that back!”

“I’m sorry, it’s the truth,” he laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners.

You send him your best glare, but contrary to your facial expression, it’s nice to laugh with him like this. You’ve been so caught up with telling yourself that you shouldn’t be feeling anything but annoyance when you’re around him that you ignored your blossoming feelings, and now they’ve fully bloomed, leaving no room for that initial irritation you so often experienced.

Friends. It’s not what you most want, but it’s something. You could get used to that.

The concert goes smoothly, and the choir performances were absolutely delightful to watch — but your father is late, again, which means you’re stuck waiting for him out in the rain that hasn’t let up for hours.

You’re about to call him for the fifth time in ten minutes when you hear a set of heavy footsteps behind you, running up the stairway. “Y/N!”

“Jin?” you ask, surprised by the boy making his way toward you, brown hair completely soaked. “What are you doing out here?”

“I lied,” he says breathlessly, like he’s in a rush, and if he doesn’t tell you now, he might never be able to. “I’m sorry, I — I lied, Y/N. I don’t want you to be my friend — God, I don’t think I could live with that. I want you to be more.”

“Jin—”

“I just,” he exhales forcefully, “I want to be able to take you out and hold your hand and hug you and kiss you—”

When your mind finally clears up, you don’t let him finish his sentence, instead grabbing his collar and yanking him down so you can press your lips to his in one swift motion. A quiet gasp leaves his mouth, but he quickly adjusts to the situation, hands dropping his violin so he can gently cradle your face, teeth tugging at your bottom lip. It’s all happening so fast that you barely even have time to think, to properly take it all in.

His lips are cold due to the nasty weather, and you’re both sopping wet — and this is most definitely the worst setting for this to have happened, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“That,” Jin breathes when you finally let him go, pupils dilated, “that was—”

“My first,” you finish. Your prior courage all gone, you’re a bit nervous now, too embarrassed by your bold move to even meet his eyes. What were you thinking? “I-I’m sorry...”

“Sorry?” Jin asks, confused. “Why are you sorry?”

“You know, because… of that.” You can barely speak up, cheeks burning. “I-I don’t know why I did that. Is this — is this a prank or something? Did you plan this? Was I just supposed to laugh it off and threaten to take your eye out with my bow instead?”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, laughing. “Can’t you tell, Y/N?” He lowers his voice to a gentle whisper. “I like you, you idiot. Ever since you waltzed into the auditorium sophomore year and nearly broke your violin falling down the stairs, I never stopped thinking about you.”

“You… you like me?” you ask incredulously, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. “Like, for real? You’re not just pulling my leg like you usually love to do?”

“I meant what I said, Y/N,” he tells you softly, fingers intertwined with yours. His voice is genuine, soothing. “I want to do all those things with you, if you’ll let me.”

It takes you a while to reply, but when you do, your heart is pounding so loudly in your chest that you can barely hear yourself. “A-And if I said yes?”

A wide grin breaks out onto Jin’s face as he pulls you into a hug, both your instruments forgotten on the pavement and your head resting on his chest as he holds you close. A few days ago, you would have thought yourself a fool for even thinking that a day like this would ever come; yet here you are, all those daydreams come true.

It’s all so new to you, and you’ll most likely screw up along the way — multiple times. But hand in hand with Jin and his vexing ability to pick out a B from a B flat, things aren’t looking so bad.

You’ll work it out.

Hanging out with your friends is always a chaotic (but fun) occurrence — but when you add your boyfriend’s buddies into the mix, it all goes down to shit.

Actually, it’s all his fault, if you really think about it. Why on earth did he think challenging Taehyung to a baking competition was even remotely close to being a good idea?

“That’s so not fucking fair!” the aforementioned best friend cries, angrily shaking a spatula at a playfully grinning Jung Hoseok. “You can’t just hide the bag of flour! I fucking forgot to put it in!”

“Nothing we can do about it now, Tae,” Jimin sighs, massaging his forehead as the three of you stare at the burnt, soupy mass your team has created. “We fucking lost, that’s it.”

“So,” Jin smirks mischievously, nudging your elbow. “I guess Hoseok and I win this one, yeah?”

“Shut up,” you shove him back, though you’re grinning; a plate with a slice of his impeccably made cake in your hands and a fork lifted to your lips. “You’re good at this and you know it. I knew from the start that you were just trying to fuck around with Tae.”

Taehyung scoffs. “Your evil, demonic, deceptive, satanic boyfriend—”

“Nice vocabulary,” Hoseok comments without looking up, and you’re sure he’s on your best friend’s hit list at this point.

“Well — anyways, he’s out to get me,” Taehyung continues, frowning. “I feel attacked.”

“Yeah, okay, keep saying that several years from now when you’re sitting in a church and Y/N’s walking down the aisle,” Jimin says nonchalantly, causing you to choke on your cake in complete shock.

“What the heck — we’re literally eighteen! You can’t — you can’t just say things like that!” you exclaim indignantly, fork clattering against your empty plate. Jin grins widely all of a sudden, tapping your shoulder all of a sudden.

“Jagi.”

“Hmm?” You turn to him, momentarily forgetting how flustered Jimin’s comment made you feel.

“That was a really nice C# just now…”

Your mouth drops open as you gape at your boyfriend; part of you wants to cry and part of you wants to laugh. You knew when you agreed to make it official that somewhere along the line, you’d have to deal with these kinds of things, but now that it’s actually happening…

You turn to Jimin, patience already running thin from Jin’s antics (actually, you secretly love it, though you’ll never admit it to his face.)

“And you have the audacity to suggest that I’ll actually get married to this man?”

“Y/N? Honey, wake up. I… I just realized something.”

“Oh — Jin? What is it? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s good. You know, I was thinking about it, and I realized that...” Your husband bites down on his lip hesitantly, glancing down at the baby sleeping peacefully in his arms.

“Yeah?” you press, curious.

“When Aera cries — you know, when she’s screaming at the top of her lungs,” he smiles fondly. “It’s always — she always cries in either F# or C#. It’s,” he looks like he’s nearing tears, “the D major key. Y/N, she literally cries in D major. I’m—”

You sigh, smiling amusedly to yourself as you snuggle up to him for extra warmth, holding your baby close. Leave it to none other than Kim Seokjin to analyze his daughter’s pitch — isn’t that part of the reason why you fell in love with him, anyway?

Life with Jin is many things — a chaotic mess that includes the constantly screaming light of your lives, three pandemoniac best friends, and far too many notes for you to keep track of. And though sometimes you want to chuck a blue-lidded block of rosin at his head to shut him up, you’re more than ready for it all.

— feedback/questions/just wanna chat?

thank you for reading perfect pitch! ♡

#applejinie #seokjin x reader #seokjin fluff #seokjin one shot #jin x reader #jin fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts one shot #rainguk #jin high school au #bts high school au #bts orchestra au #violinist!jin

[mandoalorian]

Happiness [Maxwell Lorenzano x f!Reader]

Author’s note: Please heed warnings before you read. This is angst. There’s a little fluff and a few spicy moments, but at its core, this is a pretty angsty read. It’s a different interpretation of Maxwell, post WW84. Reblogs are so appreciated. I worked really hard on this and it’s not showing up in tags so if you could reblog it... it would literally mean the world to me :( <3

Summary: After the dreamstone debacle, Maxwell Lord loses custody of his son, his home, his job and all his wealth. He has nothing, and what was once the simple task of ‘living’, is suddenly proving to be extremely difficult. Until a beacon of light enters his life. He can only hope that you don’t find out who he really is.

Word count: 4000+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: depression/suicidal thoughts, PSTD/trauma implications, poverty, starvation, binge eating, allusions to sex, male masturbation, food and drink mention.

Masterlist

Max is usually pretty good at keeping himself to himself, but when he hears the commotion from outside his small shanty apartment, he cautiously stalks towards the front door and leans into the wood, gazing out the peephole. He spots you, struggling to unlock the door located on the far side of the hall. Your arms are filled with brown paper bags and an abundance of cardboard boxes circle around your feet. He hears you curse as you drop one of the paper bags. It rips, and groceries spill onto the floor with a clatter. He swallows thickly, feeling his tummy grumble at the sight of fresh fruit and colourful veg. Max hadn’t eaten a single meal this week.

He spends a few more seconds watching you struggle, before the guilt swarms over him and he feels like a creep. He does wonder if he should leave his apartment and help you out though, but eventually he decides on turning his heel and walks back to the torn leather sofa. He just knows he’ll be some kind of intrusion on you. If Max has learned one thing, it’s that he needs to stay away from other people. Otherwise, he’d just hurt them. Even if hurting them was the last thing he intended to do.

Still, he finds himself marvelling over you. He wants to go over and introduce himself. He thinks you’re absolutely stunning. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t seen a woman (other than his ex-wife) in just short of a year, or maybe it’s something more genuine -- like the way you wear your hair or that glimmer in your eye. Once upon a time, Maxwell would’ve strolled on over to your apartment with the utmost confidence and charm, with the sole intention of winning you over and taking you back to his place. He wouldn’t dare do that now.

He stares at the wall clock, and watches as the minute leg ticks. It’s painfully slow. It’s 5:52pm, and Maxwell is just waiting until 6pm, because he knows at 6pm he can call his son, Alistair. If he tries calling a second earlier though, he is certain his ex-wife will throw a rage, claiming that he’s breaking court order. Maxwell had never been one to follow rules, but now, he didn’t have much of a choice. As he waits for the leg to strike 6, all he can really do is think about you. Truth be told, he hates that he’s thinking about you this much. He doesn't even know you.

But you’re so pretty. Your features are soft and delicate. Your clothes fit you perfectly and hug your body in all the right places. He can’t help but think what you sound like. He wonders if you’re from around here. He wonders why you moved into this particular neighbourhood, out of all the other neighbourhoods in rural D.C. He should go over and say hello at least. It would be the polite thing to do. He considers bringing over a bottle of wine to make a peace offering, but then he remembers all he has in his refrigerator is a stick of butter and a bottle of milk that has grown old and fermented. He assumes that you probably wouldn’t care for such housewarming gifts.

Maxwell calls Alistair as soon as the clock turns six. As always, Alistair is more than excited to speak to his dad, beaming brightly down the line. Alistair tells Maxwell about his step-father, and how he’d built a pool in their back garden for Ali and his mom. Max’s lips curl into a frown when he realises that his ex’s new husband is giving Alistair everything Max couldn’t. And once again, Maxwell feels like he has failed as a father.

For a short while, Alistair babbles about his day at school and how he got full marks on a pop quiz. Maxwell is as proud as punch. He has no doubt that success will one day find Alistair, he just hopes Alistair has an easier time handling it. Max can hear a faint yelling in the background of the phone call and eventually Alistair is interrupted.

“Oh-- mommy is calling me to eat dinner.” Alistair says softly, his voice suddenly growing oddly timid. Max’s stomach grumbles again at the mention of dinner.

“But we still have ten minutes left of our phone call.” Max replies matter-of-factly. He hopes Alistair can’t hear the disappointment in his voice. This isn’t his fault. He hears his ex yell again and Max can’t help but feel his face harden with disdain.

“I know, I’m sorry daddy, but I have to go.” The croak in Alistair’s voice is enough to break Maxwell’s heart. He wishes this could’ve been different. It should’ve been different.

Max knows he can’t argue though. It’s only futile. So he accepts the fact that Alistair has to leave the phone call early -- at least he was getting something to eat. Maxwell remembers when he was Alistair’s age. His mom always struggled to put food on the table because his dad would spend all the money on drinks at the local bar. Maxwell is just grateful his son isn’t starving.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Maxwell reassures before taking a shaky exhale. “I love y--”

But then, the line went dead. Max assumes that Alistair’s mom has ripped the phone from his hand and hung up. Sighing, Maxwell forces himself to stand up and walk on over to his bedroom. The bed is unmade and there are several piles of dirty laundry all over the floor. He jams open the sticky window and climbs onto the balcony, inhaling the cool evening air and lighting a cigarette. Smoking was a habit he’d gotten himself into when he was much younger, but he’d grown out of it when he’d hit limelight. Now though, it was growing back in to be a shameful addiction that he just couldn’t shake. It helped him stop feeling hunger, though.

As he flicks the orange lit ash over the edge of the balcony, his eyes catch on you again. You are standing on the street, talking to some guy. You’re laughing, and it looks like this mystery man’s hand is caressing your arm. It’s probably your boyfriend; Maxwell assumes, and the pang of jealousy in his chest turns into unadulterated sadness as he realises he was probably never going to find love again. He peers over the edge of the balcony once more as he takes a final drag of the cigarette, and he wonders if the jump would kill him.

Maxwell’s eyes begin to sting, and he climbs back into his bedroom, knocking his head on the window pane in the process.

He can’t sleep that night, and he tosses and turns in his three quarter sized bed. He could feel every spring in his mattress. What he would give to just sleep one more night in the soft, plush king sized bed he used to take for granted. He switched on his amber tinged bedside lamp and swatted away a moth that flew towards it. Maxwell stared at the ceiling and wondered if the damp had gotten worse. Even if it had, it wasn’t like Max had the courage to bring it up with the landlord.

He finds himself thinking about you again. He lived to see the way you smiled when you spoke to that guy, or the way your hair blew ever so slightly in the evening breeze. Max wraps his hand around his semi-hard cock and begins to jerk himself off. To nobody’s surprise though, he doesn’t finish -- the overwhelming feeling of revolt consuming him. He thinks he’s disgusting, and that nobody would ever want to touch him. He can’t even stand touching himself.

He falls asleep not long after that.

Max once had a pretty decent sleep schedule, going to bed at 10 and waking up at 6. But now he was up until the early hours of the morning, overthinking and hating himself. He wakes up three or four times a night from the same recurring nightmare. It’s a replay from the clear night of July ‘84, when he took over everyone’s TV screens. His doctor prescribed him therapy for it, which would probably help, but Maxwell just can’t afford it.

He wakes up to the sound of a bang on his front door. Max scrambles to his feet in a panic, checking the time on his alarm clock. It’s 2pm. And the person at the door could easily be his landlord, finally having enough and kicking him out. Max’s rent is two months overdue.

But it’s not his unforgiving landlord. It’s you. And you’re holding a fruit basket.

“Hey neighbour!” you smile pleasantly before introducing yourself to him. “I just moved in across the hall. I wasn’t sure what you’d like… but I figured everyone likes fruit!”

Maxwell stays quiet, standing there in complete disbelief. No one has shown him this amount of kindness in so long…

The prolonged silence makes you feel a little strange. He still hasn’t accepted the fruit basket, nor had he said anything. He was just… staring at you. It wasn’t a slimy gawk. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what his dark eyes were trying to tell you.

“—I’m sorry,” you continue eventually when he doesn’t speak, dropping the fruit basket by your side and turning away. “I uh— would you like me to get you something else?”

Maxwell’s eyes widen and he quickly shakes his head. “No!” he exclaims, opening his front door wider and taking the fruit basket from you. “I’m sorry,” he apologises. “I uh— I love fruit.”

You smile at his fluster, and you swear you notice a rosy pink blush cross his cheeks. It’s adorable.

“Oh okay, that’s good then.”

Maxwell prays you can’t hear his stomach grumble at the sight of the fresh fruit. He’s so excited to eat it all. “How can I repay you?”

You raise your eyebrows at his proposition and chuckle awkwardly. “Repay me? No no,” you laugh. “It’s just a fruit basket,”

It wasn’t just a fruit basket though. It was the only food Max had.

“I mean, you could tell me your name.”

Maxwell curses, realising he hasn’t even introduced himself. Gods— he wonders when exactly he’d lost his charm.

“Right, I’m sorry. I’m Max.” He extends his arm and offers you a handshake. You giggle, but accept.

He feels a bolt of electricity run up his arm when your fingers interlink with his, and he wonders if you can feel it too.

“Very formal Max,” you acknowledge with a smile.

Maxwell genuinely hasn’t communicated with anyone since July 1984. It’s probably about time he ditches the businessman persona, although he doesn’t realise he still uses it from time to time. Old habits die hard.

“I must say, I feel like I recognise you from somewhere.”

“No. You don’t.” Maxwell quickly snaps back and you’re afraid you struck a nerve.

There’s a longer silence and you find yourself wondering about your neighbour. He’s right in front of you and yet you can’t help but feel as though he’s some kind of enigma. Maybe it’s the crinkles in the corner of his eyes or his wry smile.

“Um…” you mumble, your gaze trailing behind him as you try and peer into his apartment. You can’t see much though. From where you stand it looks very empty… and brown. “If you weren’t busy tonight maybe you could come over and we could get to know each other. I uh-- don’t have many friends yet.” you explain shyly, nervously biting your lip.

You didn’t usually get nervous talking to new people, but there was just something about Maxwell that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His presence made butterflies flutter in your tummy and your hands feel clammy with excitement… or maybe anticipation. He stares at you blankly before clearing his throat.

“I uh-- yeah I mean-- maybe,” Maxwell shrugs cooly. “If I’m not busy.”

Pft, busy. Max hasn’t been busy since the dreamstone debacle.

“Of course,” you nod your head and smile. “Well, you’re welcome to come on over anytime.”

And then, without thinking, Maxwell replies. “And you’re welcome to come over here anytime too.”

You feel your smile grow into a grin and you reach out, placing your hand on Max’s arm. “Okay, well, it was nice meeting you.” you bite your lip.

Max’s heart stops when you touch him, and for the first time, he doesn’t flinch away. You’re holding his bicep and… he likes it. It’s not sending him into a spur of anxiety, in fact, he feels better just for finally plucking the courage to talk to you. And now you’re touching him. You’re not repulsed or disgusted… in fact, you’re smiling. You look happy, and maybe Max is happy too. Maybe. Max doesn’t even realise the small smile that’s crept upon his lips.

“Nice meeting you too.” He swallows and you wave goodbye.

He watches you walk back into your apartment, drinking in your appearance. You were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt today. It was casual… but he liked it.

Even when he finally gets back into his apartment and slumps against his front door, he’s still smiling. This feeling is so unfamiliar.

Maxwell finds himself pondering whether or not he should visit you tonight. He so desperately wanted to see you again-- see your pretty face and sparkling eyes and that perfect smile. Maybe Max could have a friend. That would be nice.

But he quickly gets scared again. He knows immediately that you’re too good for him, and that he’ll only end up hurting you. And then he’ll be left alone again. Max doesn’t know if he can survive another heartbreak.

Once again, he lights a cigarette and sits on the balcony, and wonders if the jump will kill him.

Then he realises he suddenly doesn’t want to die. At least, not yet. He wants to see you again first.

Max doesn’t even bother finishing the cigarette. He taps away the ash and climbs back inside, stripping himself of his clothes and turning on the shower. If he was going to see you tonight, he’d at least make the effort.

The soap he uses is from Dollar Tree, and it doesn’t really have a scent. It made a change from his favourite Jo Malone pomegranate fragranced soap, that’s for sure. He gets annoyed trying to squirt out the very little remenints of his shampoo bottle. Although he doesn’t have much, he’s satisfied when he comes out of the shower. He feels clean and fresh.

Maxwell rakes through his tiny collapsing wardrobe, trying to find an outfit that will make him appear somewhat presentable. He’s probably overthinking this whole thing -- after all, it isn’t exactly a date. But he still feels the strong inclination to impress you. He so desperately wants to be liked by you.

Most of his everyday wear is stained or ripped or very aged. But then he spots the small duffel bag at the bottom of his closet and he remembers he packed some of his old business wear when he moved out of his manor and into this apartment. He hadn’t looked in the duffel bag once since moving though, afraid that seeing the clothes would unleash some kind of trauma on him.

Max crosses his legs and hesitantly unzips the black bag. Inside, he finds a few fitted shirts, a few tailored pants, and one suit jacket. He even spots a belt and two patterned ties. He’s a little upset though when he can’t find the suspenders he used to wear. They were always his favourite part of his outfit.

Maxwell can’t bring himself to dress in the whole get up, but he does pick out a white button down shirt and grey pants. He tucks the shirt in, and wraps the belt through the loops in his pants, clicking it into place. Opting to look slightly more casual, Max leaves the first two buttons of his shirt undone and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows.

And for the first time in a long time, Max likes the way he looks. He wishes he had some cologne to spray, and he could definitely do with a haircut, but this is good enough.

He doesn’t want to seem desperate, so he does wait (albeit impatiently) until 8:30pm to see you. In the meantime, he eats over half of the fruit basket. He tells himself he’ll stop after an apple and an orange, but strangely enough. He can’t. He can’t stop. It just tastes so good and he’s so hungry -- so he eats until he feels sick. He wants to lie down because he really doesn’t feel too good at all, but he’s not going to pass up this opportunity to see you for anything. He feels a little cold, so he throws on his suit jacket which is grey in colour and matches the tailored pants. Max chokes down a glass of water, straightens up his posture, and knocks on your door.

He’s not waiting for long, and he’s delighted when he sees you answer the door. Your lips are painted a ruby red colour and you’re wearing your hair differently. Not only that, but you’d changed out of your sweater and jeans, and now you’re doting a knee length flowy dress. Your feet are slipped into some fuzzy looking slippers though, and Max admires the small diamond stud earrings that you don. They really bring out the colour of your eyes.

“I was hoping you’d come.” you reveal nervously, opening the door wider and looking your neighbour up and down. He looks so incredibly handsome in his change of outfit. Max feels himself blush under your gaze and he smiles.

“I just couldn’t pass this up.” he laughs nervously.

You move out the way and gesture for him to enter your apartment. Max notes that it’s roughly the same size as his, but it’s already filled with more furniture. Judging from the plentiful cardboard boxes in every corner, you hadn’t finished unpacking either. You find yourself watching Max as he takes in your front room. You take his jacket and hang it on your coat peg which stands by your front door. You definitely do recognise him from somewhere, especially seeing him in that shirt and those pants…

You shrug off your curiosity temporarily though, and take his hand, pulling him into your kitchen. Max loves the way your hand fits so perfectly into his. He doesn’t want you to pull away. And you don’t, until you reach the refrigerator.

“I have cranberry juice, tea, coffee-- no milk though, uh…” you trail off and check the cupboards. You beam when you see the bottle of champagne that your friend had gifted you. It was to celebrate moving out. You present him with it and grin. “Would you care to have a glass with me?”

Max remembers the distinct taste of the bubbles on his lips and he nods in agreement. You don’t have any fancy glasses, let alone flutes, so you pour the pale yellow liquid into two plastic tumblers. You hand one to Max and cradle your own in both of your hands.

“You should propose a toast.” you laugh jokingly.

Luckily, Maxwell has always been able to handle being put on the spot. He only takes a few seconds to come up with something.

“To new friends.” he announces with a charming smile, and clinks his cup against yours.

Max hasn’t had a drink in a long time, so it doesn’t take long for it to reside in his system and he begins to feel a bit tipsy. It’s not bad though. Maxwell is relaxed, and he’s comfortable. You bounce off each other and make each other laugh right up until the early hours of the morning. You bring out Monopoly and you’re surprised at how good he is at it. He gives you advice on buying properties and investments and it truly sounds like he knows what he’s talking about. You wonder what he does for a living.

“I didn’t say this earlier,” Max says as you pour out the last of the champagne. The alcohol has him buzzing with confidence. “But you look breathtaking, really. That dress and those earrings and your lips…”

And you don’t know what it is, but Max just makes you feel so good. “My lips?” you repeat breathlessly, gazing into his honeyed brown eyes.

Max nods wordlessly when you climb into his lap and straddle his hips. You place the palms of your hands flat against his chest and nudge your nose against his, giggling playfully. Max feels scared -- he’d never been this close to anyone in so long, let alone a beautiful woman like yourself.

Gods, he’s so handsome too. A small piece of his hair has fallen out of place and it crosses his forehead. You’re quick to brush it out of his face with your finger, and one of your hands cup his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into the warmth of your touch, humming in contentment. When he opens his eyes again, they’re noticeably shades darker.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, his voice low like it had dropped a few octaves.

You nod desperately and your lips crash against his.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the adrenaline but he’s an amazing kisser -- perhaps the best you’ve ever had. You roll your hips over his lap and he moans, but doesn’t break the kiss once. His large hands roam around your back and squeeze at the soft flesh of your thighs. The Monopoly game has been long discarded now, leaving only you and Max revelling in each other’s touch.

You want more. You want him. You dip your hand in between your bodies and find his belt, trying your best to undo the buckle so you can get him out of his pants. You’re certain you can feel his erection pressing against the inside of your thigh, and you’d be right in thinking he wants this too.

But what he wants the most, is to not ruin things between you both, and Max feels like that maybe this is all happening a bit too fast. He doesn’t want to reject you, and he’s afraid of hurting you, but he’s also afraid of you getting so close to him -- that you find out who he truly is, and the things he does. He doesn’t want to lose you because you make him feel so happy. For the first time in potentially years, Maxwell feels genuine happiness. He doesn’t want to fuck up, not when he’s been doing so well.

So he pulls away from you breathlessly and moves your hands away from him. He holds them though, brushing his thumbs in comforting circles against your soft skin.

“I really like you,” he smiles. “And tonight has been… great. You have no idea how much I’ve enjoyed myself. But I-- I really want to see you again. And do this again. And have a good time with you. I just don’t think we should-- you know--” Maxwell tries to explain. He feels bad for rejecting you. “It’s not that I don’t want to. Because trust me,” he sighs, closing his brown eyes. “I really really do. But--”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you smile, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I understand, and honestly, I think you’re probably right. I’ve had a good time too though.”

Maxwell can’t help but beam knowing that there’s no hard feelings between you both.

“So we can do this again?” he asks hopefully.

“Yes.” you reply, pressing a chaste yet sweet kiss to his lips.

You wiggle off his lap and Maxwell stands up. “I should head back home then,” he says. “It’s late. But maybe we can do something tomorrow?”

“I’d like that a lot.” you agree.

Max gives you one final kiss and part of you wants to ask him if he’d be willing to stay the night. You shake away the temptation and tell yourself there’d be plenty more opportunities for him to stay over. Before he leaves, you see him abruptly spin around on his heel and point his index finger towards you.

And your heart drops.

You freeze.

You think you can feel your blood run cold and the colour drain out of your face.

Because in that moment, when he points his finger at you, you recognise him.

You remember him.

You know who he is.

“I almost forgot my jacket.” Max laughs, sliding past you.

You feel like you can’t move though.

This was the man who single handedly almost destroyed the entire planet.

But how -- how could it be Maxwell Lord? He was so sweet and kind and funny. How could the man you just made out with, the man you shared a bottle of champagne with -- your own neighbour…

How could it be Maxwell Lord?

How hadn’t you noticed sooner. Hell, his name was literally Max Lorenzano.

“Goodnight.” Max tells you.

You try and force yourself to say it back but no words come out. Your throat feels dry and you’re panicking.

Max doesn’t even notice though. He’s too busy beaming with happiness when he leaves.

You aren’t sure if you’re going to see him again.

When Maxwell gets back home, he can’t rid himself of the grin that’s plastered across his lips. He sits out on the balcony and lights a cigarette, but this time, when he looks at the ground beneath you, he doesn’t wonder if the jump will kill him.

His eyebrows furrow together when he notices the florist across the road, and he wonders how much a bouquet of flowers will cost him. He wants to get you something; as a thank you for giving him a good time.

He simply can’t wait to see you again.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ww84

[ktheist]

1 | play me like a toy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read the last part, all yours to enjoy, here.

muses. mafia heiress!reader x ex-mafia!director!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia family au. arranged marriage au. office au. modern au.

words. 5.8k

warnings. contains smut. mentions of gun use. mentions of cheating.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. 

synopsis. 

sit still, look pretty. 

such were the words your maid-turned-mistress of a mother has ever taught you. the mindless marionette mask worked for the most parts. but when you find yourself hanging by a thread - or is it the beeping line of your dying father’s heart rate monitor? - you decide it’s time to shed off that mask and seek han group’s infamous loyal dog that went off radar 17 years ago.

jung hoseok.

alternatively;

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

jung hoseok is in a dry spell.

there was no doubt as to whether he could score a date, get laid and maybe even have his nightstand to call him up again exactly the week after.

the issue was time.

with his boss and longtime friend getting married, he ends up coming to work with a different pile of papers on his desk every day. well, it was his idea to sign a promissory note that if kim namjoon ever found a woman he loved and married, hoseok would take half of the ceo-ly workload so his overbearing boss could enjoy his honeymoon and truly, as hoseok would put it, live.

the order went a little differently but namjoon found a hole in the way the sentences were worded that got him flying away to the caribbean and leaving hoseok to fend for himself in these trying times.

oh, and it’s almost hit the third month of the newly weds going mia.

in the first place, he didn’t think namjoon would hold the agreement over his head like he was flexing a few hundred thousand dollar’s worth of lawsuit.

but the man did just that and now hoseok is slaving over his nine-to-five which actually tend to drag on till ten or, if he’s lucky, even midnight. sure, he got promoted from head secretary to director but he’s wondering if this endless cycle of coming back home only pass out in the bed and wake up earlier than a parent with a toddler - is worth it.

hoseok groans, his hand grabbing around for his phone to put a stop on that obnoxious alarm even if it’s just for five minutes before he has to hear it again.

and grab something he did, but this so called phone feels too soft to be a phone and shapes like an cup but softer and - he puts more pressure to his grasp out of confusion -

“mhm, what the hell?”

- it complains in a groggy voice too.

almost as if pricked by a needle, hoseok leaps right out of bed, sending the duvet flying to the floor and revealing the naked woman - you - who’s stretching her limbs whilst her face scrunches in displeasure at the rude awakening.

“__-___?! wh-what the- what are you doing in my bed?”

x

“so you touched my boob,” you say, legs crossed and arms folded over said boob.

“i-i-” it’s the first time you’ve ever seen hoseok opened his eyes so wide - he has pretty eyes. especially when they’re brimming with fear and bashfulness, “i’m sorry, i have no excuse.”

he hangs his head low.

“why didn’t you touch the other one?”

it’s then, when hoseok’s eyes snap up to you, gaze searching for a sign - any sign, to confirm that he misheard that, does the man realize that you’re messing with him.

that, and you doubling over with laughter trickling out of your mouth should be affirmation enough.

“god, you should’ve seen your face, hobi!” you’re still holding your stomach when hoseok’s shoulders stiffen and his round eyes turn sharp.

“that’s not something you joke about, ___,” he says, it’s easy to mistake his sternness with anger if you didn’t know him your whole life, “are you gonna let it go every time someone disrespects you? mr. han would’ve snapped their neck in half-”

“hoseok, come on,” you cut him off with a dismissive hand, “none of those gory talks about snapping necks and pulling out nails. that’s the reason i end up here in the first place.”

it’s the way silence lulls into the room and hoseok looks at you with the hardest knitted brows and eyes that seem to have retracted his soul far back into his memories, as though searching for something - that makes your heart drop.

all sense of humor now gone.

“you don’t remember what happened last night... do you?” the last part is just an addition to ease your throbbing heart.

if you’d left it as a statement, it made it more real that he did forget.

just a man, sitting at a half empty bar, three shots of vodka in and hostility in his voice that could’ve killed but so very hoseok of him, “that seat’s taken.”

aloof. distant. and every word in the book that described a man who didn’t want to be bothered and he drowned himself in alcohol.

“i’ll leave once the owner comes back,” you’d slipped into the seat anyway, despite the heat of hoseok’s stare.

not paying any heed, you ordered yourself a margarita.

“it’s been awhile, hasn’t it, hobi?”

that’s when he turned to you. truly looked at you.

“do you perhaps have a little sister who,” his eyebrows began to knit as if the screws in his head started turning, “would be about your age by now... ____?”

you didn’t really catch up. all you could remember was hoseok’s calculative stare as he watched you down one drink after the other. the the chilliness of the margarita somewhat soothing the burning sensation as it went down your throat.

“that’s the fifth for you,” his large hand covered yours, stopping you from picking up the glass as he cautioned you.

“yeah? i’m only stopping if i have something else to occupy my mouth with.”

in his distracted state as he tried to make sense of what your words meant, you lifted the glass to your mouth and downed the last of your drink.

and then, you stood up, walked the tiniest distance between your seat and his, grabbed him by the collar and crashed your lips on his.

you remembered your confidence dissipating like air with every second passing without hoseok so much as responding to your kiss.

maybe it was the shock.

because one that passed, you found his arm around your waist and his lips kissing you harder than you kissed him.

you stumbled into your car, not caring if yeojun had a front row view from the rearview mirror of the things that transpired at the back seat. you barely remember the walk from the parking lot to his apartment.

those sweet whispered promises. the hands that burned your skin with every touch. those eyes that pierced right into your eyes, as if invisible hands reached into your soul and grasped it in his palm.

“mine,” hoseok husked, voice sending ripples of pleasure dripping down your legs. he’d thrust himself balls deep inside you, like a beast who hadn’t had a drop of water since the drought, “you’re mine from head to toe.”

if that wasn’t enough, he fucked you raw until you were at your limit and he’d just... stop.

“hoseok, why-” you’d been breathless, skin glistening with sweat and knees trembling to give in but he’d banded an arm under your torso and held you to him so your bodies remained connected even if none of you moved.

“you think i’d just let you cum so easily?” he placed a hand on your ass, as if warning you what would happen if you’d pull away, “after all these years... you grew up fine as fuck.”

he’d languidly pulled out of you, as if knowing how torturous it felt for you with his fingers on your clit that sent electricity through your veins.

“what is it, hm? is it the kang’s or is it the seong’s? i guess the rumor about boss being hospitalized was true,” his words barely registered in your mind as his index finger touched your back and traced down your spine whilst he started thrusting in and out of you agonizingly slow.

“please, just fuck me,” you’d hissed, pain and pleasure and frustrations mixed in your voice.

“hm, still as tight-lipped as ever, huh?” he’d sounded completely relaxed as if the smacking sound that echoed in the air as his body slammed against your deliciously - didn’t affect him in the slightest.

as if he took no pleasure in fucking you. as if this was only for your poor little soul that came running back to him because you had no one to depend on.

“y-you have to- ah! s-swear your l-loyalty to- oh my god,” it was last night, while the citylights poured through hoseok’s window, his room was directly across another apartment building.

“loyalty, huh?” he tested the words on his mouth, as if it was a foreign candy gifted to him as present.

his body feels hot against your back as he lowered himself flush against you, his breath fanning your sweat-glistened skin, his voice brushing the shell of your ear, “you should know i’m yours as much as you’re mine. nothing i wouldn’t do for you, kiddo.”

he’d used that nickname he’d used to call you as he fucked you into his bed, and sent you moaning his name like you wouldn’t know any other name.

anyone could’ve seen.

neither of you cared though.

well-

you throw your gaze out at the twenty storey building, noticing a man vacuuming the living room three units to the left from the unit directly across from hoseok’s. above him, two kids, a boy and a girl are jumping around while holding an airplane in their hands.

-until now, that is.

hoseok had become an entirely different person last night. no - rather, he’d returned to you as the man you’d always kept in that special spot in your heart and locked it up so no one would be able to see past your steel schooled expression and the devil may care nature.

“i...”

your gaze snaps back to hoseok once again. he parts his lips for the briefest moment, as if to say something but clamps them shut again. the way his eyes gleam with guilt is enough to tell you the unspoken words that hang in the air.

and yet, your heart hardens like the steel mask you often wear on your face.

“and... to think i gave you my virginity too...”

the silence that lapses between you is tangible.

“sike, i’m kidding,” you grin, brows rising to the ceiling but when hoseok doesn’t so much as laugh or frown - he simply looked at you like a parent disappointed of his child who still didn’t see why what she did was wrong - you tilt your head to the side slightly, “or am i?”

“ugh, you’re no fun,” you throw your head back after failing to gouge a reaction from the man who screamed bloody murder as if you’re some street rat that he was so close to calling infestation control.

“i need to meet mr. han,” he announces after a whole solid minute of sitting on the edge of the bed with feet planted on the floor.

“what for? what are you gonna tell daddy? ‘i’m sorry i took your daughter’s virginity, sir, it won’t happen again?’“ you watch him get up, tongue unconsciously slipping out and sweeping over your bottom lip as you watch the curve of his ass as he walks to the closet and disappears into it.

“were you really a virgin?” he comes out dressed in fresh crisp button down tucked in a pair of black pants, a contrast to his rolled up sleeves, creased shirt and disheveled hair from last night.

“i don’t know, did it feel like i was?” you shoot him a coquettish smile.

the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple bobs up and down, his lingering gaze on your crossed, bare legs not going unnoticed by you. you’re donned in last night’s dinner dress that hugs your curves and stops mid thighs.

but his gaze is gone too soon.

“you’re not seriously going to daddy, are you?” you tug on his sleeve just before he steps out of the door, “hobi, i’m just kidding, i’ve been with multiple guys before you,” the way his brows threaten to knit into a frown doesn’t go pass you but it’s gone too soon, “and does daddy like the idea? he’s not fond of it, but he knows he can’t stop me from doing whatever i want with my own body.”

the beep of the door as he opens it rings in the air as he looks at you in the eye, “did any of those men work for mr han?” 

only silence follows his reply as you bite your lower lip, hesitant.

“we can’t hide this- mr han might already know. he has eyes and ears-” hoseok steps out of the door only to stop dead in track when he sees at least half a dozen men lined up in front of his apartment in black suits.

“good morning, miss ____.” they bow at exactly 90 degrees angle like robots.

“-everywhere...” hoseok trails off, eyes scanning the area on high alert.

“don’t worry, they’re not daddy’s men. they’re my men,” you raise one hand, index finger pointing to the ceiling as you shoot them an expression void of any smile.

they seem to understand that as they dip into a bow again, the leader, yeojun, stops in front of the elevator when he and his men would have joined you in any other circumstances.

“it’s not about saving my own ass, ___,” hoseok begins.

the way his arms cross over his chest makes his sleeves wrap deliciously around his biceps.

his deep brown eyes appear like a hazel storm under the sunlight that pours from every crevice of the parking lot where the elevator stopped at. “mr. han asked me to protect you from everything and i’m sure he hired someone else after i left to keep trash men away from you... and to think i did exactly what he wanted me to protected you from-” 

“hobi,” nimble hands hover over his chest before you gaze up at him through your lashes, making sure to give it a slow, innocent blink before speaking, “i didn’t regret what happened last night. and you trying to apologize for someone i’m not sorry kind of hurts.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t think of it that way...” he trails off, lips pressed in a straight line as though deep in thought.

“if it makes you that uncomfortable, i won’t talk about it but promise me this stays between us, please?” you hold up a pinky finger like you would when you were younger.

the smile that makes its way to hoseok lips causes your heart to palpitate just when it’s barely calmed down.

his pinky finger is much larger than yours as it hooks around yours in a promise, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. as if he’s still unsure if he should be making any promises. as if he’s unsure if he should be hooking his pinky with yours instead of pushing you as far away from him as he could. but before he can come to a conclusion, a voice reverberates into the air.

“miss ____.”

the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath rings in your ear as a dozen men in black suits bow at the sight of you.

before another word comes out from anyone else, you speak, voice echoing against the walls.

“listen up you sons of bitches, if i find out any of you snitched to daddy, i’ll make sure your wife, your husband, your kids, your grandparents, hell even your neighbors pay for it. got it?”

a round of rigorous “yes, miss!” follows after the splitting silence that hovered after you finished.

turning around, almost getting lost in those pretty, star entrapped eyes of his, you smile, “see, they’re loyal to me.”

“uh, i can see why.” it’s the humorous tone that finally wraps around hoseok’s words that makes your heart clench painfully.

he’s still the same hoseok you know.

some things never change.

“well, i’ll lend you one of my cars,” you say all of a sudden.

almost as if hit by a foul ball, hoseok’s eyes widen, “shi- what time is it?”

you don’t expect much when you check your phone, the digits on the screen staring back with a 9-something am - you don’t care to check the details, “late.”

“fuck, i was so focused on gathering enough balls to meet mr. han - i need to get the papers i was supposed to look over for today’s meeting,” a string of curses follow hoseok’s scampering retreat. and you simply watch in your spot - he’s always been such a klutz, forgetting the important details and scrambling to get what he’d forgotten and just remembered - done.

before the doors of the elevator close and swallow him in its belly, hoseok’s nimble fingers slip between the shutting gap, making the doors split open again, “oh,” he says, as if remembering something, “you don’t have to do that - i can drive, i got a driver’s license like, eons ago.”

right.

when he left, he was only 18 and had nothing more but a duffle bag filled with all his belongings and an acceptance letter of the university he applied to.

hoseok had been driving you around everywhere before that. he got pulled over by a cop once but your father easily handled that.

jung hoseok’s been with you for as long as you remember.

you recall bawling your eyes out and clinging onto his leg, begging him not to leave because your nanny left and you found out a few months later that her body was found washed up along the river bank near her hometown.

mr. kim, the gardener quit and said he wanted to visit his kids but the whole family ended up dying in a fire.

everyone who left ends up dead.

pushing the somber feeling that’s threatening to pull the muscles in your face into a frown, you shake your head, an amused smirk tugging on your lips as you mask away every other feeling.

“you really don’t remember anything, do you?” somewhere in that innocently clueless gaze of his, you search for a lie - it would’ve been better if he lied about forgetting for whatever reason.

but when the genuinity over pours from those pretty eyes, you push away the gnawing feeling in your heart, “we were both shit faced drunk last night so we came to your place with my driver and you left your car at the bar’s parking lot.”

“oh shit,” he begins punching the button on the inside of the elevator, “i won’t take long, i pro-”

the metal doors gradually shut, cutting off what he was about to say.

x

“p-please, i’m sorry, i’ll do anything...” the man’s words got blurred out as you stare out the window of his medium sized flat with a master bedroom, a room and a bathroom connected to the common area.

it’s been a week since you met hoseok. you want to be mad that he doesn’t call, especially after not seeing each other for so long and finally reuniting only for him to forget everything about that night.

but you didn’t even give him your number and you may or may not be mad that he didn’t think to ask.

a bloodcurdling scream drums against your eardrums, making you physically flinch as your head snaps towards the man lying on the ground with his mouth wide open and no longer any sound coming out.

his head is titled at the new guy who’s standing over him with a baton gripped in one hand. the sight itself makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“god fucking damn it, yeojun,” you shoot a glare at the head bodyguard, “didn’t you teach him rule number 1? make no sound, catch no attention?”

at that, yeojun snaps his fingers and two of the bodyguards closest to the new guy - soon? soobin? was his name? - approach him. one of them places a firm hand on his shoulder whilst he kicks soobin behind his knee, sending him kneeling with a thud.

“i’m sorry, miss ___, it seems soobin,” ah so you did get his name right, “needs to join mr. yoo here in learning a thing or two about obeying orders.”

yeojun doesn’t even flinch when one of your donned-in-black bodyguard strikes one of their own at the back of his head with that baton they usually carry around their waist.

soobin’s face scrunches up painfully as he breathes out through his nose, teeth gritting together.

“you boys, break some things and you, get the car ready,” with that, the bodyguards hovering over the middle-aged borrower and soobin begin scampering around, toppling shelves over, pushing vases to the ground and breaking plates in the kitchen.

“you were too nice,” yeojun murmurs underneath his breath once you’re in the hallway, the sound of glass shattering and furniture breaking still echo off the walls.

“i shouldn’t even be doing this shit anyway. who does he think i am? sending me to take care of small fries...” agitated, you shoot yeojun a glare.

to which he only responds with raised eyebrows, as if asking if you’d go against your brother’s orders just because you’ve never liked to see violence yet violence follows you everywhere.

“let’s see.... richest bachelor, heir to han group, one of the biggest conglomerate family that runs the underground ring...” the black haired man starts counting off with his finger until you swing your purse to his side.

“which side are you on? me or my chanyeol’s?!”

laughter trickles down his lips as he follows you into the elevator. somewhere in the distance, the hallway faintly rings with the fading sound of mr. yoo’s helpless pleas.

x

when you arrive at kimcorp, the secretary shoots up from your seat, her smile is gorgeous and welcoming but the knitted set of brows above her eyes do a poor job of hiding her anxiousness.

odd.

you didn’t use the han name to get past the receptionist, only mentioning “hoseok is expecting me, tell him i have something of his he’d really like back.”

was it the lavish dinner dress? was it the couture handbag?

“ah, it’s the fox fur, isn’t it?” you twirl on your heels, lips curling prettily as you narrow your eyes at the startled secretary.

she’s standing there like a thief caught red-handed. as if her worst nightmares came true the moment you started saying something besides the “i’m here to see jung hoseok.”

“i-i’m sorry, ma’am?” her shoulders tense up and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“nothing, it’s nothing,” you put on a billion dollar smile - one that she seems to be struggling to wear.

before the poor thing peed her pants, you turn around, your back on her and push on the double doors of the office with a white plate that spells out “head director jung.”

the syllables of your name roll off the mouth of the man behind the large desk that almost takes up half of the room, piles of documents stacked up on either sides while the middle section is cleared for a mac and a macbook perched directly in front of him.

“you sound surprised, didn’t the receptionist tell you i was coming?” you put on your best smile even as you watch him push a button on a smaller-than-a-palm-sized remote directed at the cctv and dash for the blinds and close them so that the secretaries facing his room won’t have any visual access to what goes on from now on.

“yeji didn’t specify who,” he says mindlessly, still peeking through the blinds - possibly to check if anyone noticed the sudden move.

somehow, hearing the name of another woman leaving hoseok’s lips doesn’t sit right with you.

“since you easily told her to send me right up, i assume you have an idea of who it was,” a devious smile tugs in the corners of your lips as the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath brushes your ears.

as he was in the middle of turning around and facing you, you managed to catch him off guard and trap him between the window and yourself. the ridges of his toned abs brushing against your front torso with only layers of clothing separating you.

the warning tone he uses to say your name with is music to your ears.

he sounded like the old him. the old hoseok who’d drive his fist into anyone’s face without batting an eye. the old hoseok who would turn to your crying frame with the sweetest smile and hand you back your backpack that fell on the ground amidst the struggle of trying to bite and kick your kidnappers in the shin.

“i missed you, you know?” your voice is tinged with playfulness but your heart skips a beat like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“i-i... we...”

the words get stuck in his throat the moment your lips brush his. what surprises you is the softest sigh that leaves his mouth before a large hand buries itself in your hair, pulling you close until he’s tasting you. licking your bottom lip as if asking for something he didn’t need to ask for in the first place.

his free hand grasps your ass as if he’s been dying to feel your soft cheeks in his palm. you part your lips for him, tasting the faintest sense of cigarette in his breath.

hoseok tends to smoke when something bothers.

you hope it’s you. you hope he lays in bed at night, staring at the ceiling. you hope you’re all he thinks about.

by the time you pull apart, you’re both heaving for air. a soft thud drums in your ears as hoseok leans his head against the blinds-covered-window. you press your cheek against his chest, face hot.

one of his hands sits on top of your ass as if paying his overdue respect for your body but yet unwilling to let you go. the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb mindlessly caressing your scalp.

“hoseok?” you’re the first to break the silence.

he simply hums in response, “hm?”

“i can’t give it back,” you turn your cheek to bury your face in his chest, your voice coming out muffled, “i can’t give back your freedom.”

x

“so you’re saying you can’t let me go...” hoseok echoes the words you say to him.

but the way his lips curl into a pleased smirk and his white shirt creasing at the front from having your bodies pressed together a moment ago, gives those words a different meaning than you intend them to.

somehow, the distance between you seems smaller.

“thanks miyeon,” hoseok’s smile switches to that of a kind, considerate superior.

miyeon, the woman who guided you to hoseok’s office returns his smile. but you don’t miss the cautious gaze she throws your way before slipping out of the room after setting down the tea cups.

he’s back to himself. the kind that jumps at every little sound and tends to wear a frightened puppy look almost too often.

“no, rather...” you trail off, chanyeol’s face burning at the back of your mind - your brother, the heir to han group and the man that will marry you off to the kang’s in order to mend the strain in the family ties as soon as your father breathes out his last breath.

you shake your head, a smile on your face, “it’s been awhile, how bout catching up over lunch?”

and so it goes, you visit hoseok every few days in a week. at times you tell the secretary to keep your visit a secret so you could surprise him, you’d end up catching him neck deep in work yet he still manages to pull off the rolled up sleeves, two buttons undone and slicked back hair with a single strand falling over his forehead, its tip grazing those set of strong eyebrows.

when you knock, he looks up and the tension in his brows seem to fade away. he shoots you a dimpled smile as if he’s been waiting for you to whisk him away from work.

and you do just that. arm looped around his, you both walk out of his office like lovers.

hoseok talks about his past - the one you’re not part of - fondly. as if looking through a lense of something he never dreamed he could have.

at first, he attracted the wrong kind of crowd with his permanently set furrowed brows. but then he finds things he enjoys doing outside of classes that he couldn’t get to enjoy when he was with han group.

dancing, tracks, boxing and more. he likes that rush of adrenaline that courses through his veins. 

and you tell him about the meetings and gatherings and social events to maintain your relationships with the vassal families. they’re usually attended by the women of the han family which means you and han chohee would be smiling and laughing together in front of the wives and daughters of the vassal families before taking off that loving step-mother-and-step-daughter facade once you walk out of the vicinity.

your lunches and dinners are spent with trips down memory lane, filling the other in on the moments each of you miss in each other’s lives. and for a moment, the hoseok in front of you who flinches at the sight of bugs and little, random noises feel familiar.

that is, until you hit your one month reunion mark.

chanyeol’s been gathering support of the vassals by personally accepting their invitations.

his presence easily overshadowed yours and yeojun confirmed that your father’s condition isn’t getting any better.

“i need you to come back and work for me, half of the men would drop everything and follow you,” you stare at the girl staring back at you on the surface of the tea. she bites her lips and you feel the faintest taste of blood in your mouth.

eyes snapping to his calculative ones - as if he already knows what you’re going to say before the words even pass your lips, “i need you by my side so i can take over han group.”

the hoseok sitting in the single couch next to you with parted legs and feet planted on the dark carpeted ground fits the head director setting better than the inked skin, cigarette smoke and gun-in-waistline setting you’re about to drag him in.

“you’re willing to go against chanyeol to become the head of the family?” he asks, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

hoseok’s always been an enigma. his mind, a maze you’ll never end up figuring out.

guess that part of him is still the same.

“it’s not a choice for me to make,” a clean click! resonates in the air as you place the gun you’d pulled from your garter, point facing him, index finger on the trigger, “you have two though.”

it’s the way his eyebrows rise whilst his eyes glint with amusement tells you that hoseok - your hoseok - is still somewhere in there.

throw a sane man into an asylum and he’ll start going insane. put a mad man  back in society and he’ll trick you into believing he’s sane with his warm, dimpled smile.

“marry me or be killed,” you say simply.

that amused glint is still there, granted, it shines faintly compared to the caution that overflows from those sun-hit brown eyes as they fix themselves on the gun perched on the see-through coffee table before they travel to your knuckles, to your arm and meet your steel gaze.

his the softest protrusion of his adam’s apple drops and rises again as he swallows, “is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

the air is dense with tension. it fills up your lungs and almost causes your chest to cave. you’re not sure how long to stay there, stiff and still like a rock with your back straightened as if your etiquette teacher was hovering right behind you with a long, wooden ruler that’d be ready to strike your arm at a slump of your shoulders.

but liberation comes to you in the form of a phone call.

“___, we have to go, th-the boss- the doctor says he’s not gonna make it through the night.” it’s the first time you’ve heard yeojun stammer as if he hasn’t quite yet recovered from the shock of the news he’s relaying to you.

“are you sure?” you can almost hear the thump of the organ in your chest slowing down before it ceases to throb completely, “you know how bad chanyeol wanna fuck me up, he could’ve made the doctor tell you this because he knows you’ll tell me and if... if i rush there and daddy’s laughing that obnoxious laugh while trying to make pass on the nurse like he usually does...”

yeojun grunts, “yes, ___. i have men planted there as patients, nurses, janitors and they all say the same thing - that the doctors are rushing to the vip ward and they’re trying to make it look like your usual hourly check up but it’s not... look, this is the real thing. if we mess up, there won’t be another chance. now, did you convince hoseok to come back?”

almost as if reminded that you’re not the only person in the room, your eyes snap to hoseok whose eyes are already fixed on you with a concerned expression.

“he’ll come back.” with that, you hang up the call.

“i’d love for you to think it through for a few days, realize this isn’t really a life you want and come to me on your own to sign our prenups,” you say casually, placing down the teacup and slipping your phone back into your handbag as if you’re getting ready to leave the tea party, “but...”

but before you can lift the gun and fully point it at him, a large hand covers yours. his warmth seeps through your pores and makes your body feel warmer.

“the gun’s a bit excessive,” his breath fans your face as your eyes fix on the supple skin of his neck.

it’s as if invisible hands reached out and held your head in place, forbidding you from tilting it and gazing into his eyes. his fingers reach over the back of the gun, grazing your hands.

a click cuts through the silence.

“at the very least, unlock the safety,” his teasing tone doesn’t match his saddened eyes.

and just as you thought you’d closed the distance between you and him, the circumstance forces you to take five steps back.

#bts scenarios #bts smut #hoseok smut #hoseok fic #bts fic #bts x you #bts x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok scenarios

[kithtaehyung]

Room 3 | PJM

summary: it’s just another normal day for you at the wellness center until it suddenly isn’t.  note: standalone for now! part 2 is semi-written but no solid plans atm. note 2 (june 7th, 2021): this will be revamped in the future! i really enjoyed this premise so i won’t get rid of it completely.  pairing: idol!jimin x massage therapist!reader  genre: fluff  word count: 9,188

-

-

Thirteen. 

The sidewalk underneath your feet has thirteen cracks in the little square you stand in.  Sliding a small rock into one of them provides you with something to do until you hear the squeaking, screeching brakes of a bus struggling to a stop in front of you.  

You adjust the strap on your shoulder as the doors open with a hydraulic hiss, and you give the driver a small smile before finding a place to stand.  There aren’t many people commuting today, so it’s a pleasant surprise that you get to sit down for a change. 

It was just another day in your life.  You got up this morning and did your routine, listened to your wake up music on repeat, and checked that you had your wallet, phone, keys, and earphones before heading down to the bus stop.  The very same earphones are still on as you now have your library on shuffle, and you hum along to the “na na na’s” of the current tune. 

Living in Seoul for about a year now, you were pretty settled in.  The people were accommodating, the quality of life was much better than where you were before, and you felt like you could live here for the rest of your days.  It was insanely tough at first, but the initial culture shock and feeling of loneliness lessened as you made friends and befriended coworkers.  You don’t have many people close to you here, but you can count on the ones that are.  

You turn your head to gaze out the windows.  Shimmering glass buildings tower over you, shops and street signs whiz by, and people look like they’re walking in slow motion as you follow them with your eyes.  Blips of pastels and bold colors mingle together and you look down to observe your own monochrome uniform.  For the place you worked at, you didn’t expect the clothes to look luxurious, but they’re actually designed very well.  And they’re soft.  

That’s enough for you.    

Your stop is next, so you hook your arm around the nearest pole to prep.  The steel has a coldness that seeps into your sleeve, but your only thought is wondering what you should eat for lunch.  

-

Why do you feel so tense? 

The sign right above you emits a sense of relaxation, but there’s a tightness in your shoulders.  Odd.  You lock your phone with one hand and grip the strap of your pack with the other before taking a deep breath.  You count down from three before letting it out.  

The hiss of your exhale mingles with the standard sounds of the city, and you concentrate on the flow of life both inside your body and the environment around you.  You did this often when you felt out of place, and it served to recalibrate you and your thoughts.  Storing your phone away, you make your way inside the frosted glass doors. 

Working at one of Seoul’s prestigious wellness centers was definitely something you were proud of.  If there was one thing you’ve wanted for years, it was for a way for you to massage yourself.  Everyone seemed to love your massages, but no one knew how to massage you.  That is, until you came here.  You’ve never experienced people knowing exactly where you were hurting and effectively working out all of those kinks during one session.  It was magical.   

What is even more magical is the fact that you joined the ranks of those same angels from above.  You love them, and they love you.

“Good morning! I hate you!” 

Well.

“Morning, Yoon,” you respond lowly as you take your earphones out and store them. “Love you, too.” As you walk around front reception, Yoon smiles at you and comments, 

“No, really, I think you legitimately repulse me now.”

You shoot her a look of pure terror. “What the hell did I do?”

“Nothing,” she sighs, dropping her eyes to the papers in front of her.  

In a state of panic, your mind speeds through any events that happened since the last time you saw her.  Did you accidentally ignore her once?  Look at her funny?  Yoon was big on body language. 

You didn’t realize you were still staring at her until she tapped the glass counter between you two.  “Hey, I’m sorry. I know you’re nervous. I just thought jokes would help.” 

What? 

“I’m not nervous, just tense for some reason.  Although, you definitely made it worse,” you admit, “I might need to take a longer break today and somehow get Jay to rub my shoulders.  Maybe I can bribe him with samgy--” 

“--Uhh, forget him; have you even checked your client list for this week?  I’ll do anything if you switch your schedule with me.” 

Double-what?

“Okay, now you’re just being weird,” you chuckle, “But also, no, I haven’t checked yet.  It’s Monday!”   

In a sing-song manner, Yoon warns, “You better check your schedule before I snatch it...”

You laugh again and wave her off, but her words only mess with your head.  As you make your way to the back room, you fidget and check your phone for any notifications you missed between when you exited the bus and now.  You don’t know what you expected: still nothing.  

As if you feel the weight of eyes on you, you glance up and notice some people are giving you looks.  

What in the hell is going on?  It’s 7am on a Monday and therefore way too early for people to be this upset with you.  Yoon may have said she was joking, but by the looks of everyone else...

A hand claps onto your shoulder, causing you to yelp and feel like you rocket right into the ceiling.  Only the hearty laugh beside you clues you in on who you were getting revenge on later. 

“Geez, someone’s not looking forward to today.” 

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Jay,” you seeth, hands rubbing your temples as you struggle to steady your heart rate. “Also, what’s so special about today?  Yoon was being strange just a second ago, too.”  

Your coworker looks at you like you have seven heads. “Okay, first off: if I had the amount of adrenaline in your body right now, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.  And second: you didn’t check your schedule yet?” 

They didn’t know it, but they were going to be the death of you. 

“No, I ha--It’s a Mon--you know what, I’m going to check now; you guys are killing me.” You leave Jay in a rush and race to the employee lounge.  The anxiousness in your chest is bubbling over.  

Jay’s on your heels, whispering loudly, “I can spoil it right now if you want!” 

You respond in a low voice, “Don’t you have a client to see?” 

“Nope!” 

You round the corner and see the back room door is already open, so you power through and head straight for the docking table on the other side.  Everyone working here has a personal tablet, and you unplug yours from the charging port.  Pressing through the menus as quickly as the tablet allows, you feel a thin layer of sweat on your skin.  Touch ID.  Login.  Main Menu.  Scheduling.  Weekly Outlook.  Confidentiality Prompt.

Shit. 

Confidentiality Prompts are for the therapists that have huge clients scheduled.  They’re put in place for celebrities and business executives to have guaranteed privacy.  

With a start, you wonder why the hell Yoon wanted your schedule.  Everyone here is wary of high-profile people.  It’s a whole different experience since they basically hold your life in their hands in each session.  You recall a horror story that happened when you first started working there, and still don’t know where that employee ended up.  

Your only problem is that you’ve never had to deal with this before.  Jay, Yoon, and a bunch of the veterans have, but this is going to be your first. 

“Damn, yours is longer than mine was,” Jay observes before you squeeze your tablet to your chest.  “That looks intense.” 

“Umm, snoopy much?” You shift your body away from him and speed read through the very long, very wordy window.  When you hit Accept, another window pops up that you have to read through.  This one is even more fine print. You suddenly realize something and dart your eyes up.  “Wait, you got one, too?” 

Jay nods and looks away, and he actually looks nervous.  “Yeah, we all got them this time.” 

Now that is alarming.  This client must be something else. 

Window after window comes up and you wonder if you should probably read these in earnest.  It’s starting to genuinely scare you.  

If this is that big of a deal… 

You banish that thought from your mind as soon as it appears.  Elephants would have to fall from the sky before you believe someone from that group is booking you here.   

You hit Accept before you realize you didn’t actually read and instead mindlessly scrolled through the prompts.  As the screen buffers, you bite your lip.

The screen goes back to normal and presents your schedule for today.  Your coworkers are living their normal lives, putting their stuff in their lockers and getting materials ready for various sessions.  Jay is being completely normal as he can’t stop laughing at your expression.  

And your life is anything but normal anymore because elephants are dropping from the clouds and the words Monday, 8am, Park Jimin are staring you right in the face. 

-

“You mean to tell me that you cleared your morning schedule just to see my reaction?” 

Jay laughs in earnest. “Yes, and it was so worth it.” 

You are failing to stop bouncing your leg as you wait at one of the tables in the employee lounge.  There’s a cup of coffee in front of you, but you already know you aren’t going to drink a drop of it.  You are about to be in close quarters with the equivalent of a royal family member, so coffee breath is out of the question. 

Suddenly self-conscious, you ask, “Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?” 

“I actually do.  Let me grab it.” 

As your friend gets up, you scrutinize the table in front of you to avoid peoples’ lingering stares.  How everyone somehow knew your upcoming client before you did was a mystery, but you don’t really care enough at the moment to find out.   

Jay hands you what you asked for and you thank him before heading to the bathroom to freshen up.  After you brush your teeth like a madman, you check your face for discrepancies and sigh at your choice of almost no makeup today.  

You can’t help but wonder if the thirteen cracks in the sidewalk are laughing at you at this very moment.  

Checking your smart watch, you realize you have either the longest or shortest 30 minutes of your life left before your appointment with Jimin.  

You huff out a laugh at how ridiculous that sounds.  You refuse to believe this is real until you physically see him in the room.  Confidentiality forms or not, the name Park Jimin or not, you still can’t wrap your head around the situation. 

Speaking of the forms, you assume that they were printed out for company records as soon as you submitted yours to sign.  You decide to head back to the front desk after throwing Jay his spare toothbrush, to which he responds with pure disgust. 

-

It was like Yoon was waiting for you because as soon as you open the glass doors, she’s  hounding you, “So what did you do in a past life?  Did you save an emperor?  Rescue a prophet?” 

“I don’t know about a past life, but I did save a turtle when I was five.”  You tap your fingers on the reception desk and stare at the orchids on the counter.  “Or at least I thought I did.  I probably just made his life harder.  Can I see a copy of the forms I signed?” 

“I’m gonna go with the saved prophet.  Which one was it?” 

“Yoon,” you beg, desperate as you glance at the abstract clock above her and see that you have 20 minutes left.  A mere 20 minutes until he is supposed to arrive to check-in.

“Okay, okay!  Hold on,” she chuckles and rolls her chair away from you and towards the printer.  “By the way, if I wasn’t the one checking him in, I would’ve hijacked your entire day already.”  

Her words are garbled since you are laser-focused on rubbing an orchid petal between your fingers.  Its soft and supple touch is calming you, and just for a second, you are able to clear your thoughts.  

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when Yoon hands you the forms.  The paper is still warm as you thank her and head towards the doors. 

“Oh, wait,” Yoon calls behind you, and you turn to see her grabbing another small stack of papers.  When she extends them over the counter, she explains, “I was waiting until you saw your schedule to hand these over.  Read through them carefully.”

“Thanks,” you whisper, even more anxious than before. 

-

Your heart jumps into your throat when you see what Yoon handed over.  You don’t even remember the walk to the back lounge and to one of the secluded tables; all you can focus on are the papers in front of you.  They look like they were written on and scanned before being sent over to the wellness center.   

It’s Jimin’s handwriting.  

You’ve seen his penmanship before.  There is no mistaking the neat, determined strokes.  Even the way he checked the boxes and circled the pain points on diagrams proves very... well, him.  Any other uncertainty dissolves after you see his birthday filled in, as well.  

This is really happening.

You gently slam the papers on the table and hunch over to commit the information to memory.  Months and months of schooling have sharpened this ability of yours, and you are determined to imagine this as just another client you have to memorize.  

Light to medium pressure.  Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back.  Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points.  Facial area priority.   

A trip to the countryside right at this very moment sounds like a fantastic idea.  

Jay plops into the seat in front of you, and that thought bubble bursts.  “This color on your face suits you.  Reminds me of what’s-his-name, Edward.” 

“How much time do I have,” you question, not even acknowledging him.  

“Seven minutes.” 

“Of course,” you mutter before standing, the irony not lost on you.  “I’ll go prep now.” 

You don’t see Jay waving you off.  “If you survive, I’ll see you on the other side!” 

A laugh escapes you.  Personally, your only goal is to make it through five minutes.  If you pass away after that, you would have no regrets. 

-

You stand behind the reception doors with your tablet to your chest, staring at the wall across the way.  The subtle wallpaper pattern is a great choice for this place, you decide. 

Indescribable anxiousness and fear aside, you have a job to do.  As long as you keep your outside actions professional, your inner turmoil can be whatever the hell it wants.  You’ve been in this profession long enough and you know you’re ready to do this.  You’ve seen the whole spectrum of human emotion in this line of work.  No matter how well of a job you do, there are still people that are never happy.  As long as you focus on keeping the client’s wellness and health in mind, you keep your consciousness clear.   

Then again, you haven’t had to deal with a client like Park Jimin before, let alone a high executive or well-known actress.  

A muffled “Good morning and welcome” reaches your ears and you push yourself off the wall.  The frosted glass only allows you to see so much, but you can make out a few guys standing in the front area.  Two are taller and only wearing dark clothes, and the other is a bit shorter.  The latter is looking to be wearing a beanie, light colored top, and dark pants.

You can’t hear anyone talking other than Yoon, but suddenly the shorter one makes his way to your doors.  

It’s him.  You’re absolutely sure. 

Steeling your resolve, you pull your side open.  With a smile, you look straight at your client’s sunglasses-and-mask-clad face and greet him just like you would anyone else, “Good morning and welcome.  Am I speaking to Mr. Park?”

He stills for a second before he nods. 

“Nice to meet you.  We’ll be in Room 3.”

-

Jimin bows to you slightly and whispers a thank you, and you follow him to your room.  Your heart is rattling nonstop as you note the height difference between the two of you.  It isn’t as bad as you thought it was.  

The door to Room 3 is already open, and when Jimin enters you stop at the entrance.  

You lied earlier.  None of this feels real.  He’s physically in the room, and you still don’t think this is happening.

You let Jimin put his bag down on the corner chair before gliding into the formal greeting, “Since this is our first session, please let me know if there’s anything you need.  I did go over your forms, but if there was something that wasn’t specified, feel free to ask.  I want to make sure all of your needs are met today.” 

“Your name?” 

You falter. “What?”  Did he just... 

Jimin takes off his sunglasses, and you feel all oxygen leave your body.  He’s still wearing a mask, but you can see that his eyes are creased just a tad.  “It wasn’t specified on the forms.  Your name?” 

A part of you just chalks this up to being standard Jimin behavior, but the other part of you wonders if he really didn’t know whom he was getting a massage from.  Did Yoon not tell him?  Check-in is supposed to confirm your specialist. 

You also note that his voice is infinitely softer in person.  TV and recordings did not do this man justice.  

Keeping it professional is all you must do.  You tell him your name, apologizing for not introducing yourself already.  It’s also on your tablet, so you show him while you talk. 

Jimin leans forward to read it and smiles again. “Ah.  Pretty.” 

Are your five minutes up?  Can you pass away now?  He’s a mere six feet away from you but it feels like his presence is engulfing you. 

All that escapes you is a tiny thank you.  “So, mhm,” you clear your throat and yell at yourself to get it together, “Go ahead and undress down to your comfort level and lie down on the bed with the sheet on top of you.  That remote there is connected to my tablet, so just take it off the charger and bring it to the bed. You can press the green button whenever you’re ready.” 

Jimin looks towards the console table next to him and sees the white remote.  It’s docked in a sleek charging port and stands out against the light wood.  He nods, and you give him one last smile before reaching out and closing the door.

-

The only words your brain can process at the moment are not work appropriate, so you just go on autopilot to the employee lounge.  You expected Jay or even Yoon to be chomping at your heels as soon as you left Jimin by himself, but neither of them are around.  That was completely fine: employees aren’t allowed to divulge anything that goes on in client sessions unless it’s dangerous to either of you. 

You help yourself to a cup of water and down it before pouring another.  The fruit flavor for today is strawberry, and you watch the fruit and ice swirl around as you stir the big glass container.  There are pastries and assorted breakfast foods calling your name in the clear cabinet next to you, but you refuse.  Your adrenaline is hindering your appetite.  

People are still giving you daggers for stares, but after seeing Jimin in person you really can’t blame them.  Even when you couldn’t even see his face, you felt his presence.  His aura filled up that entire room and he only spoke around ten words.  It would be a lie to say that you aren’t intimidated.  You can already count the number of times you almost bolted out of the room on two hands.  But you made yourself proud: as long as you keep your outer actions calm, you can get through this.  Your voice was fairly level for someone whose heart was bouncing out of their ribcage.  In the end, you want to make him feel comfortable and safe.  Emotions cannot exist right now.

Self-deprecation comes into play as you wonder if this is a huge mistake and if Jimin is already out the door to find a better therapist.  

Oh, well.  At least he said your name was pretty. 

Your doubts are casted aside as your tablet dings.  

Jimin’s ready for you. 

-

When you enter the room, you can see that your client followed your instructions completely.  You glance at the corner chair and see that he even folded his clothes and set his jewelry neatly on the thin, long table.  Since Jimin can’t see you from his position, you allow a warm smile to grace your features.  

You close the door as softly as you can.  The way the room is designed, the clients lie down so that their head is opposite the doorway.  It takes you a few steps until you reach the head of the bed.  You gingerly take the remote from where Jimin placed it next to his neck and turn around to redock it, and start to dim the lights with your tablet.  Per standard, you ask, “Mr. Park, is this okay, or would you like the lights lower?” 

His voice is projecting straight towards the floor, but it still sounds so light, “This is good, but please, call me Jimin.”  

That’s definitely not what you expected, but you are touched.  You nod before realizing that he still can’t see you.  “Do you have a music preference for today?”

“Whatever you prefer is fine.”  

Jimin is being so agreeable that your nerves start to dissipate.  You were expecting him to at least be a little particular at some things, but he is being really easy to work with.  The atmosphere starts to feel safe enough for you to joke, “Well, it does depend on my mood, so for now I’ll play Standard Spa Chord Progression, No. 5 instead of No. 3.” 

The small chuckle you hear melts your heart.  “Ah, is that the one with the harp?” 

“No, that’s Spa Concerto, No. 4. We don’t have that one in our library, but I think it’s terrible anyways.” 

Jimin’s head lifts from the table in an earnest laugh, and you can’t help but laugh with him.  It’s infectious.  

You select a random song on your tablet, and you weren’t lying when you said it was standard.  The song is less of a song and more like a bunch of reverberating chords in slow succession.  That’s one thing you noticed about this place: modern tech but very outdated music.  Get with the times!  At least have some nice piano covers to choose from. 

“Not having Spa Concerto, No. 4 may be a deal-breaker for me,” Jimin comments, a hint of a smile in his voice.  

You’re still tapping on your tablet to get to his file, and you make your way back to the door.  There’s a clear slot on each room’s door to hold employee tablets, and as soon as you store yours, you can finally start.  “I don’t blame you, even though I think it’s awful, that one still topped the char--Oh, shit!”   

You aren’t watching where you’re going, so you don’t see the shoes in your path.  It’s so dim in the room and his shoes match the floor color but none of that matters because right now you are falling and you are falling fast.  Your first instinct is to grab the table, but that would risk pulling the blanket off of Jimin and you would rather die than do that to him. 

So, floor it is.

Your hand not holding the tablet breaks some of the fall, but your face definitely makes contact with the ground.  You can feel the slight burn on your nose and hand, and a sharp lingering pain follows.  

Okay, now can you pass away.  Someone from the heavens can come claim you now.    

Drowning in shame, you don’t help yourself off the floor right away.  Not only were you breaking your rule and joking around, you also weren’t paying attention and now possibly ruined Park Jimin’s shoes.  

You’ll look up good resigning practices later tonight.  You have enough money saved up to make it a couple months without a job, you reckon.  

When you finally lift yourself off the floor, you turn around and see Jimin pushed up on the table.  His whole upper body is bare and twisted towards you, and this is the first time you see his entire face.  It’s more beautiful in person, you conclude, even though it conveys nothing but concern right now.  “Are you okay?” 

You nod furiously and stand up completely. Your voice is shaky as you apologize, “I am so sorry.  One moment.” Before checking yourself, you check your personal tablet.  To say it was worth more than you isn’t that far of a reach.  No scratches, though. Praise be.

“Don’t apologize… Did you trip on my shoes?”

Embarrassment washes over you as you nod, not looking at Jimin.  Placing your tablet gingerly on the console table, you dust your uniform down and inspect your hands and feel your nose.  Luckily, there’s no blood, only slight rug burns.  If there was blood, you would have to postpone the appointment until you effectively sanitized.  With what you have, you just need to go wash up.  

Jimin is still watching you intently, which makes your face burn even more.  What a mess.  He’s probably second-guessing this whole thing.  

You bow, feeling tears at the corners of your eyes.  “Mr. Park, I am so sorry.” 

“Jimin.” 

“I’ll just need to clean my hands and then I promise we will start as soon as I get back.  I know your time is valuable so I’ll make up for the minutes we lost.” 

“I… Okay.  Thank you.” 

You make your way out of the room, still courteous enough to shut the door quietly.  Rushing to the nearest sink, a small sob leaves your throat as you wring your hands under the water.  Life is kind to you at this moment because no one is around.  You would never live it down if someone saw you coming out of Jimin’s room crying.  

After splashing water on your face and drying it, you take out a cotton pad from one of the glass containers on the counter.  You press it onto your eyes, decreasing the evidence of your current state.  

So much for making Jimin feel safe and comfortable.  You’ve only made it awkward.   

-

With a deep breath, you enter the room.  

Jimin turns his head and puts it in the crook of his arm to look back at you.  “Are you sure you’re okay?  I’m sorry I couldn’t help you…”  

You go over to his shoes and move them under the chair, wincing when you see visible tears on them.  Guess you’re withdrawing a chunk of your savings to pay Park Jimin for damages.  

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you state firmly, but soften, “But I’m really sorry about the shoes; I may have torn them.  I can pay you back.” 

You hear sheets shuffling, and when you face him, Jimin’s fully on one elbow and turned towards you.  “No, please, don’t worry about those.  I should’ve put them out of the way.  I feel bad.”   

“It’s definitely my fault,” you countered, “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Jimin uses your name, which stops you in your tracks.  “Everything’s okay, I promise.”

You should feel many different things, like pride in getting to see this man in person, or happiness from him actually addressing you by name.  But all you can think about in this moment is how disappointing you’ve been to another human being, and you sigh.  

You nod, but still plan to pay him back.  You know enough about designer brands to know those aren’t cheap, and they’re shoes you’ve seen him wearing a lot in photos.  

“It’s okay to lie back down,” you say softly, unmoving.  

Jimin searches your face one more time before settling back face-down on the table.  

It’s a normal day at work, you tell yourself.  Go through your routine.  

Launching yourself into action, you move to the far end of the console table.  Grabbing a bottle you’ve clutched so many times before that its label is wearing down, you uncap it and oil your hands and wrists.  You also unstopper a bottle of lavender oil and pour a few drops into the nearby bamboo diffuser and start it.  

You make your way to the head of the table and grab a rolling stool from a corner of the room.  The wheels on your chair don’t make any noise, which you fixed up yourself.  This day isn’t any different - it’s still silently gliding on the carpet.  Plopping your devastated self onto the cushion, you scoot towards Jimin’s head.  You’re about to place your hands onto his bare shoulders to start, but you whisper,

“It’s also okay if you want to cancel and reschedule with someone else, Mister--Um, Jimin.” 

You can’t believe you just gave Park Jimin a way out of a whole 60 minutes with you.  Where did this conviction and restraint come from?  Is this going to be the regret of your entire lifetime? 

After a long silence, Jimin answers with his face in the headrest, “If you call me Mister Jimin again, then I will.”

You huff out a laugh at his unexpected answer, and your shoulders finally relax.  It seems like he’s still fine after everything that’s happened, and you thank any deity you can think of for this second chance.  

-

Light to medium pressure.  Avoid anything above light pressure around the spinal area and lower back.  Shoulders, calves, and feet are pain points.  Facial area priority. 

You aren’t a fan of light pressure, but you understand why people prefer it.  Not everyone can handle the deep tissue or harder pressure massages. 

Jimin’s shoulders are incredibly tense, though, so you feel bad that you’re limited in what you can do.  You allow some medium pressure to the worst spots, and when you approach the insides of his shoulder blades you lessen the intensity.  

Gliding your fingers back to the ridge between his neck and shoulders, you feel that his right is still tight.  You use your left elbow to work that knot, careful to press even lighter than you would with your hands. 

Jimin grunts, and you still. “Is that too much?”

“No, I like that.”

You keep that in mind as your hands travel over the rest of his upper back area.  From time to time, you reapply the oil to allow for less friction.  It lets your fingers slide deftly across muscles and quickly work any troublesome areas, which Jimin has a lot of.

It makes sense: you can’t even imagine the amount of pressure all of the boys were constantly dealing with.  There was a lull in their activity recently, so you knew something was in the works.  Between recording songs, shooting music videos, fulfilling their brand contracts, and whatever else they do, you’re surprised you don’t feel more knots under Jimin’s skin. 

The soft chords of the next song float around the room, and you lose yourself in your movements.  You can’t see his face, which makes it a lot easier.  You worked through his whole upper body, neck, and upper arms area so naturally that you were admiring his wrist tattoo before remembering who you were massaging.    

For the seven hundredth time that day, you cannot believe this is happening.  You really hope Jimin does feel safe here despite your whirlwind of thoughts.  Have you kept it professional enough?  Neutral enough?  He seemed to be fine with your joking earlier, and he didn’t seem upset about the shoes in the least.  

But still… Maybe he was just tolerating you because it’s the same situation for him, different place and day.  Putting yourself in his shoes, you would feel pity for you trying your best to accommodate him.  The pressure over everyone everywhere you go had to be exhausting.  It couldn’t ever be normal.  

Your shoulders suddenly slump under the weight of what you feel for him.  

And Jimin seems to notice.  “Really, it’s okay about the shoes.  Those were getting pretty worn anyways.” 

You still.  Of course he thought you were still fussing over the shoes and not over his life.  His unending consideration was like a burning hearth: it made you feel so warm.

“Okay,” you respond softly, “I understand.” 

“Good.  If you worry about them again, I’m walking out barefoot,” Jimin says sternly, even though you know he’s kidding.  “And don’t test me, I’ve done it before.” 

Your words leave you before you think.  “I don’t believe you.” 

“Oh?” 

Jimin puts his hands on the table and you yelp, “Okay, okay, stop!” 

He laughs and plops his arms back down flat.  You lament as you still can see how his muscles bulge in your mind.  

You shake your head and sigh before rolling to his left and softly taking his arm.  His skin is so soft you don’t even need the oil, you notice.  You work his forearm before moving down to his wrist and fingers.  Thinking about Jimin’s threat, you are pretty curious.  “Be honest: did that really happen?” 

“It didn’t,” he responds immediately, “But I thought about it once.  My shoes were killing my feet so I thought about walking without them until I found a shoe store.” 

It sounds so childish to you that you chuckle.  “Where was this,” you ask, completely intrigued now.

“Ah, I honestly can’t remember.  I think somewhere in Europe.”

“...Did you just pick an entire continent because you couldn’t remember?”

“...There’s seven continents and one of them is Antarctica!  Picking one out of six is easy.”

This man is something else. You finally finish off his right side, and you gingerly set his arm down on the table.  With a mental pat on the back, you get ready for the next part of the routine.  In your softest therapist voice, you instruct, “Okay, go ahead and turn over and slide down until your head is on the table.”

Jimin obeys right away, shifting over and moving down.  The white sheet slips down his body a bit, and you diligently pull it up until it’s covering everything up to his neck.  During this, you feel rather than see his eyes on you, so you don’t dare yourself to look. 

You go back to your plethora of containers to re-oil, and roll your chair to the foot of the table. All that time, Jimin thankfully has his eyes closed. 

You were equal parts dreading and looking forward to this part of the massage since his face was going to be visible.  This way, you can’t escape the reality of the situation.  

But you decided to follow the flow of the conversation.  You learned the subtle nuances of human communication throughout your experiences: when people wanted to talk or stay quiet, if they were liking the conversation or not, etc. Jimin seems to be fine with talking despite your assumption that he was going to be quiet for the most part.  It has definitely made this easier for you, though. 

“I want to visit all seven continents one day,” you decide to admit. 

“I do, too,” Jimin responds, eyes still closed. “How many do you have left?”

You start on his feet, working along the smooth skin. 

“Uhh, well,” you whisper, “A good chunk. I’ve only been here and back where I’m from, and I just moved here around a year ago.”

After you tell Jimin where you were before, he sounds amazed, “You seem like you’ve lived here for so long. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

He’s definitely being nice.  You are just now getting decent at the language and customs, but there is still a lot you have to learn.

“But, I do want to start traveling again for a specific reason,” you divulge, sighing to yourself as you think yet again about your lofty dreams.

“Which reason is that,” Jimin asks, and you somehow know his eyes are open now. 

Your own eyes betray you as you connect your gaze with his. “I want to experience different techniques in person.” You don’t know he can feel the fire behind your eyes. “There’s no better teacher than experience, at least to me. I know I’m good at what I do currently, but there’s so much out there that I want to learn and get better at.”

You debate whether to keep going or not.  Jimin’s eyes are alight with curiosity, so you take that as your cue. It’s surreal that you get to talk about your dream with him of all people, so you strive to make it count. “Take music, for example: everyone agrees that music is healing, therapeutic.  But, there’s so many genres, so many ways to create it.  I see massage as the same way: therapeutic, but many different ways to make people feel better.” 

Jimin is silent as he tears his gaze from you to look at the ceiling. You concentrate on his ankles, working them as delicately but effectively as you can.  A part of you wants to keep talking, but you don’t want to push it. You may have said too much as it is.

The next song has soft chimes to accompany the rippling chords.  Lavender wafts through the air and quells your nerves.  You continue to Jimin’s lower legs and glide your fingers along the flow of his muscles.  When you feel a break or disturbance, you stop and tend to it until you feel it’s balanced.  After his lower legs are done, you move on to his thighs.  You feel tightness all over, and you apply medium pressure to these areas because of how much muscle they contain.  

Jimin’s legs are a work of art on the outside, but so chaotic on the inside.  The chakra highways are disjointed, and you have worked through so many kinks in the roads.  If you imagine yourself as someone walking down a path, you are stopping every 10 steps to smooth over a pothole or breakdown a hill in the way.  You can’t see how this person can even walk, let alone perform on stage like this.  All of them never cease to amaze you.   

“Where would you start?”

Jimin’s sudden inquiry throws you.  You swear he was silent for a good ten minutes.  “What?” 

His eyes are glued to the ceiling still.  “Which places do you want to visit?  Like, where would you go to learn?” 

“Well…”  You are almost too stunned to speak.  He has been thinking about what you said this whole time?  Aren’t there plenty of more important things he needs to be thinking about right now?  “There’s this technique called amma that originates in Japan, and there’s an American technique called esalen that I want to learn, too.  I think that one is from California.”  

On a high from Park Jimin’s interest in your life, you ramble about a few more, your voice getting more animated the more you talk about different things.  It can’t be helped; you’ve been passionate about traveling and learning for so long.  You’ve just never been able to really try it since money was part of the equation.  Or more so out of the equation.  In addition, you didn’t really get to talk about it with anybody.  No one’s actually asked.  But somehow, Jimin did.  

When you realize you actually stopped massaging his thigh, you look up in horror to apologize, “Oh, I am so sorry - I didn’t mean to stop.” 

Jimin’s head is turned to the side, his hair falling into his eyes.  The smile gracing his face is soft.  “It’s okay,” he assures you, “I feel much better already anyways.” 

Your cheeks flush before he even stops talking.  “That’s good,” you whisper, “We’re almost done so I would hope so.” 

“What!” Jimin’s eyes dart to the clock on the table.  It’s already 8:50am.   

That saddens you a lot more than it should. 

“On second thought: I feel tense in my hand, I think you need to go back and redo it.  Here.”  He’s extending his right hand towards you as if to shake hands, and you laugh.  

“Nice try, Jimin,” you say, “But I do need to work on your face for the last part.  Close your eyes for me, please.” 

He stares at you for a second before obeying.  The smile from earlier makes a return.  

You roll your chair back to the head of the bed and plop down.  Jimin’s face is angelic even upside-down, and you pray to the heavens that you massage it perfectly.  

When you start, you quip, “See?  You’re so happy we’re almost done.” 

“No, no!” Jimin laughs.  “That’s not it.  You just called me Jimin - it was nice.”  

“Oh.”  You swear steam is billowing from your head.  How can he affect you so intensely?  And how were you keeping yourself together?  

With the resolve of a thousand emperors, maybe including one you probably did save in a past life, you steady your hands on his temples.  Rubbing in delicate circles, you start the last segment.  

Face massages are your favorite.  Even the smallest movements are invigorating, and you feel very refreshed after one.      

“When I come back, Spa Concerto, No. 4 better be available.” 

You smile.  There’s no way Jimin will be back, but you appreciate his friendly nature.  

“It’s not even all that great, but I’ll let them know,” you play along. “I’m more of a piano person, though. There’s a lot of piano covers saved in my phone that are way better.” 

Jimin’s eyes flash open at the same time he proclaims, “Ah, I love piano covers!  Especially on rainy days.”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, “I can listen to those all the time.”

Your heart drops like a stone as you glance at the clock and see your time is up.  The hour absolutely flew by.  Dropping your eyes back onto Jimin’s face, you take your hands off his cheeks and say, “Okay, that’s the end of our session today.” You get up to dry your hands and lower arms with a cloth while going over the last steps, “I’ll leave you to get dressed, and I’ll come back to the room to give you water and some stretch and wellness recommendations moving forward. Just press the green button on the remote when you’re ready, like last time.”

When you turn back to him, Jimin’s fully propped up with his hands behind him. The blanket over him is draped across his body, just enough to cover his ribs.  He’s smiling right at you as he speaks, “Thank you.  You’re really good.” 

You bow in thanks, face lighting up like wildfire. “You were great, too,” you comment in return, immediately cringing inside. “I’ll be back when you’re ready for me.”

-

Right after you leave clients is when you start filling out their evaluation and wellness recommendations on your tablet.  You just worked on them, so the memories are fresh.  The forms are a mix of multiple choice and fill-in, and you recommend some specific stretches and deeper pressure for Jimin. 

This time, Jay is in the employee lounge when you come in to wait.  His legs uncross and he pops up from one of the modern loveseats that are just as firm as they look.  “She’s alive!” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the flush in your cheeks.  “I’m here, but barely,” you chuckle, your tablet dangling in your hand by your side, “I still can’t believe that actually happened.”

Jay leans in so that no one can hear what he has to say, which makes you suspicious since there’s no one around you.  In a low voice, he reveals, “Yoon and I made a bet.” 

“Wonderful,” you drawl, “I’m gonna walk away now.”  You can already tell this is one-hundred percent not in your favor.

“No, wait!” His whisper is loud. He bounces after you to the water and food station. While you fix yourself a cup, he continues, “Yoon thinks you’ll get done with the appointment unscathed, but I think you’ll come out of it with a problem.” 

Jay’s words remind you like alarm bells.  

You need to pay Jimin for damages.  

“Oh, shit, I need to get something,” you say in a rush, grabbing your tablet off the food station and scurrying to the locker room.  In the wellness center, the employee lounge is in the back, and the locker room is in the back of the lounge.  You think you still have time before Jimin is ready. 

There’s a notebook you keep in your bag along with a pencil case.  Tearing a sheet from the notebook, you write down what you think is a good estimate for the shoes.  Before you write anything else, you pause.  

You only skimmed through the confidentiality prompts, but you do remember a section about personal information.  Therapists aren’t allowed to give out their personal information unless specifically asked, and there has to be solid intent behind the client asking.  Jimin didn’t need to ask you for yours; he just said not to worry about it. 

After a good thirty seconds of your pen lingering above the paper, your tablet chimes.  

A split second decision has you crumpling the paper and chucking it in your bag.  You tear out a new sheet and tuck it with the pen under your tablet as you head back to Room 3.

-

You get to the room with a paper cup of water you grabbed on the way, and since you have things in both hands it’s a bit difficult getting the door open.  You try the handle but it only jiggles a bit.  One more try has you pushing the door right as the handle gives, and it works.

Jimin goes to you immediately when he sees your hands full, and you almost reel back from having him so close.  Which should be odd, since you were literally just with him for a full hour, and he was not fully clothed.  In the end, his presence alone is enough to affect you no matter the situation. 

You extend the cup to him and he grabs it with a small thank you.  

“I filled out your evaluation and it should be printed at the front already.  Make sure to drink more water after you leave,” you say with a smile, your chest heavy.  This was most likely the last interaction you would ever have with him. 

Jimin nods, his mask covering his smile but not his eyes.  He doesn’t say anything more. 

You almost leave it at that, but something in you doesn’t want this moment to end, so you take your chance. “And, umm,” you stutter as you fumble with the pen and paper.  You just lay your tablet on the massage table to free your hand, and click the pen open.  “How much should I pay you,” you ask, your gaze ironically on the very shoes you tripped over earlier. 

Jimin sets his cup down on the console table before taking the paper and pen from your hands.  You watch him write something - a price in Won most likely - as you explain, “I’m a big believer of making things right, so please let me pay for your shoes.  I should’ve seen them on the ground.”

He folds the paper and hands it back to you with the pen.  “If you insist.  But don’t check this until you get home.” 

“What, why?”  Your eyes dart to his face. 

Jimin stares at you before responding, “Nothing bad. It just might shock you.” 

Immediately, your gaze lowers.  If you tell anyone how your day went today, you would think they were weird if they believed you. If you tell anyone why you’re suddenly broke come this Wednesday, they would be lying if they just went with it.  “Okay, I won’t,” you assure him, and you’re telling the truth.  You are equal parts surprised and nervous that he’s allowing you to pay him back. 

With a deep breath, you give Jimin your best soft smile.  Your heart is hurting as you send him off, “Well, it was a pleasure.  Have a great rest of your day, Jimin.  Until next time.”  You catch yourself in a sea of emotion as your words die on your tongue.  The boys have schedules on schedules, so the likelihood of him stepping foot inside this wellness center again is minuscule at best.    

If anything, you’re grateful that you get to address him by name, and you succeeded in making this as smooth and safe as possible for him.  At the expense of a scraped nose and hand, but rather you than him.  

Jimin hoists his bag on his shoulder, the water cup you gave him already in the trash bin.  He walks right up to you and stands there, and you swear both of you can hear your heart beating.  One of his hands comes up to his masked face, and he speaks softly as he advises, “Ointment will help your nose if it still hurts.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest and cascades all the way to your fingertips.  Mirroring him, you bring a hand up to your nose and nod.  Your words tumble out, “Oh, yes, you’re right.  I can check if we have any in the back.”  

Satisfied, Jimin nods.  “Until next time,” he offers, his eyes creased and warm. 

You smile again and bow slightly.  He puts on his shades before heading out the door frame and into the hall, and you feel emptiness in his wake.  The world is fuzzy around your vision and you are trying so hard to commit everything that just happened to memory.  

Until the doors to front reception close, you watch Jimin’s retreating back.  When the frosted doors close shut, you close your own door to Room 3 and lean against the wooden frame.  The scrap of paper is creased in your hand as you clutch it to your hammering chest.  

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself.  It takes a good minute for you to compose yourself before pushing off the door and getting the room stripped and ready for the next session.  The whole time, you replay everything in your head.  

Jimin was just as nice as you have seen him through the lens of cameras.  If that was the case, all of them had to be the same way.  You are proud to like these wonderful people.  

You’re so happy you got to actually spend all this time with him, but that just magnifies the sadness you feel when it’s over. 

-

The room is done and cleaned up, and you go through the rest of the day on autopilot.  Not even Jay’s constant teasing could free you from your euphoria-numbed state.  The only thing that throws you back into focus is Yoon, and it happens at the very end of the work day.  

You push open the doors to front reception, and smile big at your friend behind the counter.  She’s beaming right back at you, and she puts her chin in her hand and shakes her head. 

“That must’ve been one hell of a message,” she says through a barely contained smile.  

Your hand flies to your forehead and you nod.  “I can’t believe that happened, Yoon.  I mean, it was really him.  Opportunity of a lifetime… I just hope he enjoyed the whole thing.” 

“You could say that,” she chuckles, “Enough to book you again, at least.” 

What?

“He did?” Your breath leaves you in a rush.  “If you’re joking with me, I’ll--” 

“--He did.  It’s not for a long time, but he asked for you specifically.”  Yoon gathers papers in her hand and starts to organize them in the containers behind her.  “You really piss me off, you know that?” 

“Love you, too,” you whisper, your head completely above the clouds.  You grab your phone and start checking your schedule from the wellness center app you have installed.  Grabbing the door handle, you absentmindedly wave back to Yoon and call out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

The sun emits a golden glow at this hour, and the glass buildings along the street bask in its shine.  You head towards your bus stop while skimming your calendar for Jimin’s next appointment, but you’re already four months out and see nothing.  Not losing hope, you keep going and see a booking six months in advance.  Your heartbeat skips as you click on the appointment, and almost skids to a halt when you see his name written down.

-

As soon as you enter your small apartment, you head straight to your bed and drop your bag on the comforter.  Your whole body bounces as you plop yourself down next, and you stare straight at the ceiling.  

Your life is still normal, right?  Sure, you were able to spend an entire hour with Park Jimin, but that didn’t mean you aren’t still completely and utterly average.  

You close your eyes and go back to Room 3.  The scent of lavender fills your nostrils and you can still see his number tattoo as plain as day as you massage his wrist.  

In all honesty, it still feels like a fever dream.  That was someone else’s life you were able to live, someone else there with Jimin and you just decided to hitch along for the ride.  

But that was real, and so is the amount of money you still need to withdraw from your bank account.  

With a sigh, you reach into your bag and take out the piece of paper.  You were dreading this moment all day since he left.  Unfolding it, you prepare for the worst. 

But all you can do is stare.  

Jimin didn’t write down a price at all. 

Your name is at the top, and the rest is as follows:

Save your money for traveling and learning new things, not on me. I can’t wait to see what you’ve learned when we meet again.

-

-

a/n: thank you for reading! if you guys have any comments or feedback, please feel free to let me know!

#text #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #bts fics #jimin fics #room 3 jimin #room 3 #ryen writes #member: jimin #long post #grammy nominated singer fic!! #ryenwrites

[soft--dragon]

Mining

Imagine this in an au where no war never happened and Dream was nice to Tommy without manipulating him :) I want my boys to be happy okay I'm soft for them all (I wrote this to help me with Tommy's latest stream cause it ✨h u r t✨ )

Word Count: 2,250

Warnings: None

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

This was based on this prompt here I hope you enjoy this ^^

Tommy ran across the flower dotted fields, eyes bright and sword in hand. Dream ran beside him, occasionally glancing at the teen.

"You keeping up okay?" He asked.

"Yeah!" Tommy grinned, though Dream could see he was struggling to breathe.

"You should put the sword in your inventory" Dream advised, "the weight won't slow you down."

"There are mobs Dream" Tommy replied firmly, "I feel safer with it."

"Fair enough" Dream nodded but made sure to slow down a bit so Tommy could keep up.

Tommy had gone to Dream begging him to come along on a mining trip and to tell him about his speedrunning adventures. Dream would've declined but Tommy had seemed so excited by the idea that Dream really couldn't say no to the teen. Besides, he might be able to get to know the kid better. He was still pretty new to the server.

The pair stopped at a river, Dream only slightly out of breath, years of speedrunning training his body for this type of thing. Tommy on the other hand was bent over, hands on his knees as he breathed heavily.

"You gonna be alright?" Dream looked at him, a little concerned.

Tommy nodded again, instantly straightening up to smirk at Dream. "Please, I feel fine! I'm like a running machine, Big D!"

Dream screwed up his nose though he was smiling a little. "Don't call me that."

Tommy laughed, saluting. "Sure thing Big D!"

Dream groaned rolling his eyes. "C'mon, breaks over, we need to head to the cliffs to find a good cavern for resources."

Tommy sighed. "Gimmie a second to catch my breathe would ya? I'd like to live to see Tubbo's birthday."

"A running machine you said? Wouldn't that mean you don't need time to breathe?" Dream teasingly poked Tommy's side.

He didn't expect Tommy to violently flinch away, holding his side as he stared at Dream.

"What the fuck was that for?" He snapped.

Dream blinked. "Sorry, I was just...are you hurt?"

Tommy glared at him, pink starting to dust his cheeks. "I'm fine" he grumbled, "just don't do that."

Dream wanted to ask but refrained. Maybe Tommy had a thing with touch? But he was commonly seen hugging Tubbo and Wilbur...

"Sorry" Dream apologized again then motioned towards the moutain, "shall we continue?"

Tommy nodded, avoiding eye contact. Dream blinked at the lack of a snarky comeback. Was the boy still not comfortable enough around him for contact? Had he overstepped?

Dream pushed the thought aside. He'd spent a few weeks around Tommy, they'd given each other friendly shoves before. He probably just didn't expect the sudden touch.

"C'mon" Dream gently nudged the boy's shoulder, relieved when the boy shoved him back lightly.

They continued up the cliff side, Dream tossing blocks to Tommy whenever he needed them. All the while, Dream kept thinking back to the odd reaction Tommy had had earlier.

He might actually be hurt, the boy was terrible about taking care of himself if the stories Wilbur had told him were any indication.

Dream sighed, mining the dirt in front of him and pulling himself up on a sturdy ledge. They were about half way up the hill. Dream knew there was a trusty cavern close by perfect for mining. The amount of ores in there had barely been unearthed.

Dream looked over the edge where Tommy was climbing.

"How you doing kid?" He called.

"Fantastic!" Tommy sarcastically shouted back, his exhaustion clear in his voice. "How much further to the caven?"

"About five minutes, we'll take a break here" Dream replied.

Tommy grumbled something heaving himself up onto the edge of the grass block. "Fuck-!" He shouted in alarm.

Dream lunged down to grab Tommy's wrist as the boy's foot slipped off the grass block. Tommy gasped, staring up at the older boy.

"Dream! Don't let go!" He yelled, his feet scrambling for a foot hold.

"I'm not going to!" Dream grunted. "Stop moving around so much!"

Tommy forced himself to go slack. Dream yanked his arm up, tossing Tommy directly into his chest, causing him to topple over. They landed in a heap on the ledge, Dream practically hugging the boy to his chest. Tommy seemed equally shaken, gripping Dream's shirt tightly in his fists. The pair took a moment to breathe before Dream carefully pushed Tommy back to study his face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, almost tempted to take off his mask to get a clearer look at the kid.

"F-Fine" Tommy stuttered a bit, glancing over his shoulder at the edge of the cliff.

Yeah, that was bullshit.

Dream sat up, Tommy in his lap and held him at arm length. "Did you slip cause you couldn't get a footing? Or are you hurt? God please don't tell me you're hurt- actually do, I don't want Wilbur to kill me Tommy, are you hurt?"

He was rambling he knew he was but the heart attack he nearly had from almost losing Tommy sent his brain into mother hen mode.

Tommy laughed a little, putting his hand on Dream's mask and shoving him back. "I'm fine Dream, relax."

"I'm being serious Tommy" Dream batted Tommy's hand away. "Are you hurt, yes or no?"

"No" Tommy rolled his eyes, "god, you sound like Wilbur right now."

Dream glared at Tommy behind his mask. "I'm gonna make sure you're not lying."

"Ughhhhh fine" Tommy crossed his arms, pouting like a child.

Dream gently pressed his fingers against Tommy's arms to test for any sore spots, relieved when Tommy didn't react further than an annoyed eye roll.

"Uncross your arms" Dream told him.

Tommy blinked. "What? Why?"

"You might've bruised your ribs when I grabbed you, you hit the dirt pretty hard" Dream explained, "uncross em."

Tommy hesitated then lowered his arms slowly. Dream waited until they were all the way down then carefully moved his fingers around the bones. Tommy flinched and grabbed Dream's hands.

"You did lie to me unbelievable" Dream huffed. "How sore are they?"

Tommy wasn't looking at him, still keeping Dream's hands from touching him again. "I'm not hurt" he insisted, his voice high.

"Bull" Dream retorted, "you literally winced, Tommy just let me help you-"

"It didn't hurt alright?" Tommy finally lifted his head to glare at Dream.

A blush was burning his cheeks and ears, eyes flicking away from Dream's face to the ground.

Dream stared for a second, trying to put the pieces together. Then it clicked.

Oh.

Oh now that was interesting.

Dream smiled a little. "Tommy, if we're gonna do this whole mining thing, we need to trust each other, right?"

Tommy looked at him and nodded.

"Okay, so with that being said, can you let me check to see if you're injured anywhere else?"

Tommy pursed his lips together, eyes dropping from Dream's face to the grass. "F-Fine just don't-"

He cut himself off with a yelp as Dream poked his stomach.

"See!" Dream said, though he was smiling. "I told you that you were hurt!"

"No Dream, it doesn't hurt-" Tommy tried to explain but Dream prodded his stomach repeatedly making him squeak and slap a hand over his mouth.

"Tommy come on now, if you're in this much pain you got to let me know" Dream told him. "How badly does this hurt? Give me a rating from one to ten."

His hands shifted to poke at Tommy's hips. The boy squealed and broke into laughter, trying to shove Dream's hands away.

"Why are you laughing Tommy? This is serious!" Dream said, his grin while hidden by his mask, was evident in his voice.

"Yohohou're tihihihickling mehehe yohohohou jeheherk!" Tommy accused through his stream of giggles.

"Tickling you? I'm not tickling you Tommy I'm trying to see if you're injured!"

"Dreheheam I swehear to gOHOHOHOD!"

Dream glanced down at his hands to see them poking around Tommy's navel. He chuckled.

"Judging by that reaction you must've really hurt yourself here Toms, I'd better stay here to make sure you're not internally bleeding or something."

"No! No no no nohohohoho! Dreheheham!" Tommy squirmed in the older boy's lap, trying to escape the barrage of tickles.

"Hey, no, no getting out of this Tommy, you told me I could check for injuries" Dream pulled Tommy back until the boy was cradled in his arm, Dream's free hand scuttling around Tommy's stomach.

Tommy shook his head, covering his face with one hand while trying to bat Dream's hand away with the other. "Dreheheheheam!"

Dream giggled quietly. The boy was loud and a bit brash sure, but this? God, Dream was gonna remember this forever. He shifted from Tommy's stomach to his sides, where this whole thing really started.

Tommy squirmed, leaning back into Dream's arm as he laughed freely. His hand still covered half of his face, but Dream could see the pink tinge to his ears and cheeks.

Okay, that's was adorable.

Dream eased up a bit, but kept his hand resting on Tommy's stomach. The boy seemed to realise it had stopped about a minute after Dream actually had. He lifted his hand a little to peek out and immediately dropped it back when he saw Dream looking at him.

"That was cute" Dream teased.

"Shut the fuck up" Tommy groaned, "I'm not cute."

"You really are" Dream poked at his cheek making the boy's nose screw up. "Cuteinnit."

"I'll stab you" Tommy threatened.

"How could you stab me if you're too busy laughing?" Dream pinched at Tommy's hips making the boy squeal and break into a fit of giggles.

"Fuck off" Tommy slapped the hands away, drawing his knees to his chest to protect the area.

Dream laughed a little, ruffling Tommy's hair. "You really aren't hurt though?"

"Yeah yeah I'm fine" Tommy huffed.

"If you say so, buuuuut" Dream dragged out the last word. "It would truly be a shame if you injured your feet somehow, imagine that, you wouldn't be able to outrun mobs, maybe I should check they're not hurt too?"

Tommy stared at Dream for a moment then scrambled to get out of Dream's arms.

"C'mere Tommy!" Dream laughed cheerfully, grabbing Tommy in a bear hug and falling back with him.

"Fuck off Dreheham!" Tommy yelled, but giggles were already peppering between his words. "No no no! Let gohoho!"

"Why? I just want to make sure my friend isn't in any pain Toms," Dream told him, rolling over and pinning Tommy to the ground.

"You're just gonna tickle mehehe!" Tommy tried to sit up but Dream's weight kept him down.

"What an accusation! I would never do such a thing in this kind of situation!" Dream pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Now, be a good lad and just stay still while I conduct my analysis."

"Fuck off!" Tommy shot back, a wobbly smile on his face as he felt Dream tug at his shoes. "Dreheheam! Wait wait wait-"

Dream giggled again. He used to this with George and Sapnap all the time. He missed the playful feeling that came with it.

Tommy's shoes dropped from his feet and Dream paused for a moment, hands poised by the arches. Tommy was giggling quietly behind him, the anticipation making him nervous. The silence stretched on for a bit before Tommy finally got brave enough to ask; "Dream?"

Dream instantly skittered his fingers up and down the boy's feet making Tommy throw his head back with a loud shriek, hysteric laughter following.

"NOHOHohoho! Dreheheham!" Tommy squirmed on the dirt, kicking his legs the best he could.

"Damn Tommy I think your feet might actually be more injured than I thought!" Dream exclaimed, "that's okay though, I know some methods to get them back into working order."

Dream then started gently tracing Tommy's toes while his other hand scratched around the soles.

"FuhuHUHUCK! YOHOHOU BIHIHITCH!" Tommy cackled, covering his warm face with his arm, desperately trying to evade Dream's fingers.

"Tommy I told you to stay still! You're not being very cooperative" Dream shook his head.

"FUHUHUHUCK OFF!"

"Hey! I'm trying to help, there's no need to be rude" Dream sped up his fingers pace as punishment.

Tommy seemed to realise this as he immediately backtracked. "I'M SOHOHORRY! DREHEHEHAM PLEHEHEHESE!"

Dream chuckled and stopped his fingers, getting off of Tommy's legs. The boy melted into the grass, child like giggles spilling from his mouth. Dream smiled fondly, sitting cross legged beside the boy.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough to look up at Dream. "Bitch" he said simply, glaring.

Dream laughed. "Sorry couldn't help it" he said. "You good?"

"Yeah" Tommy sat up, tugging his shoes back on. "But you're dead to me."

Dream laughed again, slinging an arm around the boy's shoulders. "Aw come on, you love me really."

"I really, really don't."

Dream pouted then tazed Tommy's side making him yelp, flinching away.

"Hehey!"

Dream snickered and stood, offering a hand to Tommy. "C'mon, we've still got a little bit to go then we'll be at the cavern."

Tommy took his hand, hefting himself up with the older's help. He hesitated then asked, "can you tell me about your first manhunt with four hunters?"

"Yeah sure," Dream smiled, his heart softening when Tommy's eyes lit up. "I think I started it with me slapping Sapnap in the face then making a break for it."

Tommy laughed, listening intently to every word as Dream led the way to the cavern.

#mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!tommyinnit #ler!dream #my fanfic #fanfic #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #mcyt #dsmp

[zen-unknown]

Sliiiiiiiiiiides this here

A comic I made based off a thing I wrote for mafia Au, I'll add the writing under the cut if anyone's interested

Featuring Celeste/Solara who belongs to the amazing @lordterronus

Zen gripped her blade tightly as she steadied her breathing. Her opponent, "Celeste", was looking a bit worse for wear, but seemed determined to defeat her. Zen couldn't help but feel a bit solemn over this. Celeste had earlier brought up her parents death, repeating the same accusations she had received since the incident. It seemed like she and Pink were close as well, which motivated her to keep fighting even while Zen had the upper hand.

Just another one of Pink's puppets.

"The crowd is growing. You should finish this quickly before backup arrives." Jade informed her, and Zen sighed. This was such a mess. Probably Pink pulling the strings as usual. At least they were up on a rooftop rather than on the ground. Zen couldn't be interrupted easily up here.

"We won't kill her. I don't need footage of me killing a civilian on live television. Blunt your blade before I hit her next." She instructed under her breath, getting into a stance to lunge at Celeste again. Her target was breathing heavily and she had plenty of decent wounds. Zen could honestly say she was impressed that she was still standing. But she could see her nearing her limits, which meant this fight was going to her.

"I doubt you'd believe a word I say, but I apologize for this." Zen said, then darted forward. She wasn't quite as fast as before, having received a few decent blows from Celeste as well. But she was more than fast enough to get the edge over her opponent. She watched as Celeste's eyes widened in alarm, and got ready to knock her out with the blunt of her blade…

Until a shot rang out, and something tore through her side.

"GET AWAY FROM HER"

The next few shots she expected, doubling back but still getting nicked on the arm and just under her eye across her cheek. Jade blocked the next round as Zen clutched her side in shock and pain, but merely watched in silence as Pink darted forward to hold Celeste protectively.

This… didn't make sense. Pink was… protecting her? Since when? After all the officers and civilians she's put in harm's way to get to Zen who she never once genuinely tried to protect, she steps in just like that?

"... What are you-"

"I'll give you three seconds to run before I put a bullet in your head" Pink cut her off in a hiss as she leveled her gun with Zen. Her expression was… actually angry? Was that desperation? Zen didn't know, but she didn't have time to think about it either. Whatever Pink hit with that first bullet was bleeding fast, and the shock would only keep her numb for so long. She could already feel herself growing dizzy. So, with one last calculative glare, Zen stepped onto Jade's blade and hovered away a bit.

"Be more careful with your puppets. You'll run out at this rate and I'm sick of taking your blame." She warned her sister before dashing off. Below them, a few cop cars attempted speeding off after her, but both Zen and Pink knew it was pointless. Besides, they both now had more important things to worry about.

#creatorverse au #my art #cv art #creatorverse art #cv au #cv mafia au #mafia au #mafia zen #mafia pink #mafia solara #mafia celeste