#not think I could ever even begin to capture whatever the hell the old men are

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio There's Always A Duo Final Part

John Price X F!Reader

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

A/N: ahhhh! here we are! the final installment to this little fic series! I hope everyone that loved and read this, also loves this lol, as always feedback is highly appreciated WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD, flashbacks, mentions of past injuries, trauma, John being soft(i love that old man so much)

“Simon…”

Your heart was racing, it had been so long that you’d had to face him, hell you could see Johnny standing just a few feet behind him as if he was a scolded child. It sickened you in a way, they weren’t respecting your wishes to meet on your terms. Why were things turning out like this? You were doing just fine, physical therapy was starting to fix the damage done to your leg, and yes, while you knew it would never go back to 100% use, you were fine with that. This though, this was something you’d wanted to avoid for the rest of your life. Simon and Johnny had ruined your life for months, had made you feel so miniscule and small. You were nothing more than a nuisance to them until you’d been captured by the enemy. John had been the only person to pick up the pieces, to help rebuild you as a person.

“We wanted to talk with you about everything.” Simon’s voice didn’t hide his emotions, they were laid bare in front of you.

“Simon, you can’t be serious right now, I asked for you to give me more time, this is the exact opposite of that.” Anger was simmering in your veins, a pot slowly beginning to boil over.

“I understand that, but it’s been over a year and you won’t even look at either of us.” Simon’s brow furrowed, lips pulled into a harsh line.

Your teeth gnashed together as you tried to swallow the hurtful remark that laid on the tip of your tongue. If only he knew exactly how you’d felt about the entire situation, maybe he would begin to see the real you. John placed a palm on your lower back, hoping to help not only steady you, but also calm you if he could. He’d been against you speaking to Simon or Johnny until you felt truly ready, and right now he was ready to reprimand both men.

“I think it’s best if you two leave. Now.” John wasn’t going to take no for an answer, if push came to shove he would do whatever it took to protect you. You’d suffered enough.

“Sir, you can’t be serious.” Simon was astounded, was he really about to send the two of them away because you were upset?

“I am, I have to protect my fiance, and if that means the two of you leaving, then so be it.” John’s gaze hardened as he stared them down.

Simon opened his mouth as if he wanted to retort before thinking better and deciding to grab Johnny and leave. Tears slipped down your cheeks, ruining the light makeup you’d put on before you’d left to go to lunch. It didn’t matter, you could always do yourself up for a new date night with John, but knowing it was because Simon had ruined such a special day for you? You were angry.

No, you were downright livid.

“Can we go home? I’d like to lay down.” You huffed softly, loosening the tight grip you had on his coat.

“Of course, do you want any help? Or are you alright to head to the car?” John didn’t want to rush you, even though he wanted nothing more than to be home with you as well.

“I’m all right, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” Your steps were slower, your body still tense after seeing Simon and Johnny so suddenly.

You had thought you were passed all of this, that you could face them without the terror locking your muscles to the point you were a statue. Apparently that wasn’t the case, and now you weren’t even sure you’d ever be able to talk with them again. PTSD had plagued you for so long that you weren’t even sure therapy was helping anymore. You knew the people who’d taken you hostage were dead, John accidentally let it slip during a casual dinner. He wasn’t ashamed of it, he’d been on a personal rampage to find you, and damn anyone who stood in his way.

Of course you knew deep down you would do the same thing had John been stuck in the same situation. It was a need to protect one of the people you were the closest too, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t walk without a cane, or that your hip locked up most mornings. You would do whatever it took to make sure both yourself, and John were happy.

“How did they even know we would be here?” There was no reason for them to have shown up, not if John had only called Alex and Farah for the surprise.

“I’m not sure, the only thing I can think is Simon saw my calendar down at the station.” It was the only explanation you had at the moment.

“Probably, better keep a better hold on it in the future.” You waited until John opened the door, turning your body slowly as you got into the car.

John waited until you’d situated yourself, tucking your legs in before grabbing your cane and laying it on the back seat. He was always afraid something would happen if the two of you were to ever get into a car accident so he never risked your safety. It was another thing that had made you fall further in love with him. Neither of you were perfect people, there was no doubt in your mind that any normal person would think you were a monster. You’d killed people to make sure more didn’t die, went to defend innocent civilians from the war path of an angry person.

Your heart was racing as you watched the other man knock both John and Johnny down, muttering how this would be their final moments. Johnny threw himself off the ground, the knife he’d had strapped to his thigh plunged deep into the other man’s shoulder. His scream of agony echoed throughout the train station. The Scot wasted no time in pressing his gun to the man’s head, the single gunshot was deafening as you watched with bated breath. John threw himself up and off the ground, grabbing Johnny’s vest and all but throwing him to the bombs that were still counting down. It had only taken him mere seconds before the timer stopped, Simon and Kyle finally making their way down to where you were.

The two accomplices had fled, leaving behind their leader who now lay lifeless on the shockingly bright concrete. You stood up slowly, hands shaking as you swallowed the thick bile that creeped up in your throat. Had Johnny not gotten the shot off, who knows what could’ve happened? Would the five of you have been standing together, or would someone else have lost their life at that moment?

“You doing alright, soldier?” John laid a hand against your shoulder, noticing the way you seemed to flinch.

“Yes sir, just shaken up a bit.” You didn’t want to lie, not to someone that was mere seconds away from death again. 

John nodded his head before radioing to Laswell, letting her know the threat had been neutralized as well as the bombs.

“Sweetheart?” John pinched your chin softly, turning your gaze to face his.

“Hmm?” Your eyes focused on the way his lips pulled into a soft frown.

“You alright? Seemed a little dazed.” John knew things like this could happen, it had happened to him plenty of times before.

You nodded, resting your palm atop of his wrist with a soft smile. John worrying over you was becoming a pastime that neither of you were going to be able to break.

“Just thinking about the past, got lost.” That mission wasn’t even the worst you’d been on, but it was a reminder that everything could be gone within the blink of an eye.

“I know, I’m always here if you want to talk about anything.” John’s fingers released your chin, wrapping around your much softer fingers as he brought them to his lips.

Your smile was radiant as he pressed a kiss to each finger before pressing one final one to the ring he’d slid onto your finger just an hour prior. Everything in that moment, the two of you in your own little bubble, felt almost perfect. It began to sink in that, even though you didn��t want to, you would need to confront Simon and Johnny. They were people that meant a lot to John, and you at one point, and even after everything you’d want to invite them to the wedding.

“You’re thinking too hard, why don’t we go inside so you can get changed, and then we’ll discuss everything.” John raised a brow, waiting to see if you would be comfortable moving after what had happened.

“That sounds perfect, though you’ll need to get my cane for me.” You gestured with your free hand towards the cane that sat comfortably in the back seat.

John’s smirk raised sudden suspicion as he quickly got out of the car, slamming his door before rushing over to your side. John was careful not to swing the door open too quickly, lest your body get jerked and cause any unnecessary pain for you. He reached over, unhooking your seatbelt and pulling it away from your body.

“John, what-”

Your words were cut off as he scooped you up into his hold, not even a grunt slipping through his lips as he shut the door with his foot. Your laugh echoed as he walked up to the front door, stealthily slipping the keys from his pocket to get the front door opened. It was no secret you’d gained weight after the whole abduction, having to do physical therapy and not being as active had a hand in it. 

“You are one cheeky bastard, you know that?” Even though your words would sound harsh to anyone else, the smile on your face told John an entirely different story.

“Only the best for you, my love.” John quickly got the door open, shutting the door with his foot, again, once you were safely inside. 

You rested your head against his chest as he made his way down to your shared bedroom, depositing you gently on the bed before searching for comfortable clothes. He tossed over one of his shirts that you’d stolen in the past, laughing as it smacked you in the face. His own laughter followed suit as he’d realized what had happened before finding his own clothes. 

His hands were gentle as he helped you undress, slipping your shoes off before sliding off your pants, shirt, and lastly your bra before helping you into the much softer clothing. You ran your hand along the fabric of his shirt, smiling at the faded color. It had been one of his favorites to sleep in until you’d stolen it one night, he only ever wore it when he wanted you to smell like him.

“John?” You looked up at him nervously, your smile disappearing suddenly.

“What’s wrong dove?” John sat down beside you, taking your hands into his lap.

“I want to talk with Simon and Johnny. I know what they did earlier was completely out of line, but they’re our friends, I want them to be there when we get married.” It wasn’t a decision that had come lightly, even before John had proposed you always knew you wanted the task force there.

John was quiet for a few moments, soaking in the information and deciding on what would be the best thing to say to you in that moment. You deserved to be the one to initiate the conversation, and he was happy that right now it was your choice.

“I can call him, make some tea for when they arrive.” John’s voice was soft, even though he would always be slightly angry at what they’d done, he wouldn’t shun them out forever.

“That sounds perfect.” You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, you’d need time to prepare before they arrived.

John helped you down to the living room, offering assistance only if you needed it. He knew how annoying it could be when someone offered to help out because they assumed you were too weak. It was one of the reasons you worked so well together, he knew when to push you harder, and when to be the person you fell back on. 

Once you were comfortably seated with one of the books you’d been reading, did John call Simon, telling the other man that you wanted to speak with him and Johnny. The call was short, Simon stated they would be over within the next fifteen minutes, which gave John plenty of time to make some tea. He’d all but stopped drinking after finding out that most of the pain meds you had been taking couldn’t be mixed with alcohol. He only ever smoked on base, never when you would be around to smell any of the smoke.

Knock knock!

Your heart kicked up a beat before settling down once more. John walked over to the door, greeting them both quietly as they walked into your home. Johnny took his boots off quickly, not wanting to track mud inside. Simon followed suit, making sure their shoes stayed together so they could get them back on quickly if needed.

“Come on, let’s talk.” John headed into the living room, sitting down beside you as he pulled your feet into his lap.

Simon swallowed nervously. Funny how someone who could stare death in the face was suddenly afraid of upsetting you again. Johnny stayed close to Simon’s side, plopping down in one of the arm chairs as he waited for someone, anyone to break the silence.

“You can sit down, Simon, I’m not going to bite.” You tried to smile, but it felt almost wrong.

“I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. Johnny even told me that I shouldn’t have intruded but I was so afraid things were going to get worse.” Simon wrung his hands together, coffee colored eyes flicking down to the scarred skin.

You wanted to comfort him in that moment, to tell him that everything was perfectly fine, that he didn’t need to worry. Except it wasn’t fine, nothing would be perfectly fine anymore. You sighed softly, taking in a deep breath as you waited for Johnny to say something as well.

“I…had I known what was going on, I would’ve done more to help you feel included. I felt like such an arse for being such a piece of shite towards you.” Johnny didn’t like to mince his words, he spoke his mind to whoever was willing to listen.

“That’s in the past now, there’s nothing we can do to change that.” Yes, you were angry and upset that the people you had thought were your friends didn’t seem to share the same sentiment.

John squeezed your calf softly, it was his way of comforting you when he didn’t want to say anything out loud.

“But, I want you to understand that I am still hurt by what has happened. I had always thought that we were some sort of friends, and getting kidnapped really put everything into perspective for me.” You twirled the ring on your hand absentmindedly, almost like it was a fidget toy.

“I could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve your friendship. What we did is something that you should never forgive, we left you to die and yet you’re acting like it’s water under the bridge.” Simon was angry, not at you, but at himself and the way he’d handled everything.

“Simon, I-”

Johnny stood up from his chair, the sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood.

“We were afraid you were going to pick one of us over the other and our friendships would be ruined. It was a childish and petty thing to do and every single night I have nightmares about hearing your screams from that fucking videotape. I’ll never forgive myself for letting someone like yourself get hurt because I was scared that the one person I’d seen as a friend would lose interest when they found out more about me.” Johnny’s chest heaved as his hands balled into fists.

Your eyes widened, he was afraid you wouldn’t want to continue being friends with him because of how he acted at times?

“Johnny, is that true?” You reached down for John’s hand, squeezing his fingers lightly as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Aye. I’d always been the weird kid, the loud one, so when you came along being so friendly I was afraid I’d make you run off by being me.” Johnny’s words broke your heart, it didn’t excuse any of his actions but knowing deep down he was a scared little boy? You couldn’t even imagine.

Simon cleared his throat, wiping his palms onto his jeans as he stood up slowly. It never ceased to amaze you how much taller Simon was than everyone else on the task force.

“He’s not wrong. When you’ve been scared of making connections with people, you tend to push away people without thinking about their feelings. I truly am deeply sorry.” Simon would never be able to deserve your forgiveness, let alone your friendship, but he was willing to try.

“You two are going to make me cry.” You laughed wetly, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. 

Johnny smiled softly as he walked around your coffee table, pulling you into a gentle hug so as not to cause any pain. You pulled him in tighter, laughing softly as he knelt down onto his knees.

“Thank you, truly I’ll never deserve your kindness.” Johnny whispered into your shoulder, arms tightening around your middle.

“You deserve nice things, both of you do.” You patted Johnny’s back, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before turning your gaze to Simon.

The poor man looked ready to flee the situation entirely. He’d never done well with physical touch, not after dealing with so much death over the years, but a hug couldn’t hurt. He followed suit that Johnny had, dropping down to his knees beside the couch and pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Your laugh was wheezy as you tried to squeeze him back just as hard.

“Guess I forgot how strong you were.” Simon shrugged sheepishly as he pushed himself up and off the floor.

“Forgot you don’t spend more time in the gym, not like that one over here.” Simon jerked his thumb over at Johnny who stared back offended.

“Hey, no fighting in the house you two.” You raised a finger, like a mother scolding her two children.

They both stopped any arguing, staring away from one another as you and John laughed at their ridiculous antics. It felt good knowing that your friendship would start anew. John helped you off the couch, leading the two men out and saying their goodbyes.

It was nice knowing that even though they had their reasons for acting so foolishly, they knew it was wrong and apologized. Now the only thing you would need to worry about was planning your wedding.

You couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with John.

tagging: @gaylemonshark

#john price #captain john price #captain price #john price cod #captain johnathan price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price x female reader #john price x f!reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #alex keller #farah karim #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell

[writingtoforgetreality]

You’re A Winchester? (Castiel x Winchester!Reader)

Request: You are so sweet, is a little sister Winchester reader good? Like in her late 20s that is their sister from another world/dimension, but they don't have a sister in their world? And she is just trying to fit into their family but she is a good hunter? It can be with Cas Meg or both, whatever you are inspired to do :) (by @sourpatchspinster), [Supernatural-Masterlist]

Part Two

Summary: You woke up in the middle of nowhere. How the hell did you get here? The last thing you remembered was being in a motel room & all of a sudden, you found yourself lost with the worst headache ever. Who would have thought your life was about to be changed forever?

Words: 5,270

Warnings: takes place in season 15 bc I want “everyone” to be alive & happy, language (do I still have to mention this?), mentions of our dear friend Chuck, angst?, innocent reader (I don’t know what happened to me during my writing break tbh), not my fav piece but I loved the request so there you go, fluff, (possible second part?), (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Black. That was all you could see. Your head was killing you, it felt like someone tried to crush it with their bare hands. It took you a lot of strength but after a few attempts, you managed to open your eyes & were met with a blue sky. Huh…Did you fall asleep outside? No. WAIT?! Were you captured? No, you were just lying on the grass. Slowly, you got into a sitting position, looking around to figure out where in the hell you were. Unfortunately, your surroundings were unfamiliar. Taking deep breaths, you tried thinking logical for a second. The last thing you remembered was you sitting in a motel room, turning pages in an old diary your family left behind.

You had never met any of your family, growing up in a children’s home because…well, you had no idea if you were completely honest. Throughout the years, you had been to multiple foster families but in the end, you always ended up back at the children’s home. Not that you cared too much. It was not like you ever felt like you belonged with them anyway. On your 18th birthday, Sally, one of the employees, came into your room with a small package in her hand. That was the first time you had ever received a gift.

“It says I should give it to you today.” she handed you the small wrapped gift with a genuine smile on her face.

“What is it?” your curiosity got the best of you.

“Open up & see, I guess. I have no idea.” & with that she left you alone once again.

The day you got the diary was when you left the children’s home for good. You could not believe what you had read. Apparently, you did have a family. Or so it seemed. But why the hell had you never met them? And why the hell did it seem like your family suffered from psychological problems? Schizophrenia? To be honest, you did not care about that. The only thing that mattered to you was that it seemed like you had a father & two brothers out there somewhere. It looked like your mother had died a while ago…

~back to your confused ass self~

Being alone out in the middle of nowhere was not particularly comforting. What scared you even more was that you did not even have your stuff with you. Where was your diary? Your phone did not matter to you that much, neither did your clothes. It was not like you owned much to begin with. But that diary? That meant the world to you. Even after years of unsuccessful searching for your family, you never gave up. Because deep down, you knew you would come across them eventually.

Coming to a standing position, you dusted off the dirt that was on your clothes. A black car in the distance caught your attention. What was a car doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Maybe your kidnappers were driving it & brought you here? That thought let your heart race. Yet, you found yourself moving closer to the car. The closer you got, the more you could make out. Was that a ’67 Impala? Out here? And it looked like it was in great condition? If you had enough money you would buy a similar car & you sure would treat it the same way that the Impala’s owner did.

You risked a look inside the Impala, finding it relatively empty, but before you could spend much longer admiring it, you saw something silver in the corner of your eye. Was that a…door? Okay, yeah, you were definitely kidnapped. But not by professionals, that was for sure. Not the right time to joke? Okay, okay, right. Upon closer inspection, you noted that it was most likely a door to a bunker. Why you did not run right away, you were not sure. Something about this place felt like…home. Huh, weird. How could you be so anxious yet so at peace all at once? Only one way to find out. Oh boy, you would so regret this later.

Before you could think too much, your hand was moving towards the door, ready to push. Surprisingly, it was not locked. You had to push your entire weight against the door to keep it moving since it was so damn heavy. By now, your legs were moving on their own & all of a sudden you were standing inside a…bunker? There was not much to make out because your eyes had to adjust to the dark inside at first.

It sounded like footsteps were approaching fast but because of the echo in the bunker you could not quite tell where they were coming from. There was one thing you did notice, though, & it was the fact that there was more than one person coming your way. Fuck.

“HANDS IN THE AIR!” the click of a gun was followed after the loud voice. Obeying, you put your hands up even though you were sure nobody could see what you were doing anyway. It was still dark after all. Right this instance, light illuminated the room & you were stunned by how big the bunker was. Eyes wide, you looked around, only to find you were upstairs & the voice you heard was coming from beneath you. Gazing around, your eyes fell on two broad looking men, both of them pointing a gun at you. Fucking great. You should have run.

“DOWN. NOW.” the shorter one of the two yelled once again. Not wanting to mess with them, your legs moved towards the stairs & slowly you got down, not once letting your eyes move away from the man with the shorter hair. He seemed like the bigger threat. While the taller man looked scary as hell too, he held something behind his eyes that eased you a tiny bit more.

“Who are you & what are you doing here?” this time it was the taller man who spoke up & you had to take back your previous thought. He was scary as shit, especially with his voice sounding like he was up to no good.

“Um, I-I swear, I don’t know. I-“ but your attempts were cut short.

“Cut the bullshit right there. Did Chuck send you?”

“Chuck?” your eyebrows raised up, showing your genuine confusion.

“Dean, I don’t think she’s with Chuck.” the one with the longer hair mumbled. Dean? Huh. The name made you think of your lost diary again. You hoped you would find it eventually.

“Sit down & start talking.” he was not to be messed with so you followed both men further into the bunker until you reached a huge table. Choosing one of many chairs, you sat down but still eyed the guns that were no longer pointed at you but still very much a threat. The men each took a seat opposite of you, putting the guns on the table in front of them. At least they were not holding them anymore. You noticed you held your breath & again, started taking slower ones to calm yourself.

“I’m Sam & this is my brother Dean. We won’t hurt you, just…who are you?” what a coincidence. Brothers Sam & Dean. Were you dreaming? Of course, why did you not think of this sooner? It would make sense.

“My name’s (Y/N).” your voice was barely above a whisper & your eyes shot down to your lap, suddenly feeling small.

“(Y/N), okay. Well, (Y/N), um, why are you here?” Sam’s voice was a lot softer than at the beginning. Dean had not said anything else, he simply looked at you sternly, still thinking you were a threat. You did not even have weapons on you. Hell, you did not even know how to fight in the first place. But clearly they did not know that. Fuck it, if you were about to die then you could actually tell the truth, right? What did it matter? Your voice was quiet but loud enough so the boys could hear you.

“One moment I was reading through a dia- book & the next I wake up in the middle of nowhere with the worst headache ever. I saw the Impale parked outside & then found the door. I don’t know where I am, I don’t even know why I thought opening this damn door would be a good idea.” a slight chuckle was all you could muster right now. Hopefully they would believe you. When neither of them said anything for a few moments, you looked up & saw them eyeing each other, having a silent conversation.

“What book were you reading?” this time it was Dean but his voice was a lot kinder now. The boys knew you were not a supernatural being, the bunker was safe when it came to that & you would have not been able to enter otherwise. Yet, you were confused by his question? That was really all he cared about? Not the fact that you had no clue where you were or how you got here? Not wanting to anger him, you answered, looking him straight into the eyes.

“My dad’s diary. Nothing special, why?” a noise coming from the entrance made you look towards the door. There sure were quite a lot of people for being in the middle of nowhere. Your conversation was cut short when a voice spoke up.

“Sam! Dean! I salted & burned the bones! Case done! Well, Castiel helped me but he said he was proud of my work.” how could someone sound so excited about…burning bones? What the fuck?

“Jack did a good job today.” the other person spoke up. He was wearing a trench coat & his voice was deep, deeper than the others. Obviously, they had not noticed you yet but a look at Sam showed you how uncomfortable he was. At this point, you were more than confused. Salting & burning bones? Why did this sound familiar though? Shit. No way. Your dad’s diary was filled with salting & burning stuff. What was happening to you?

“Uh, guys…” Sam got up & approached the two men who were called Jack & Castiel. Somehow, your gaze fixed on the man in the trench coat. He looked good. Again, wrong timing, (Y/N). Get it together! Jack & Castiel saw you & their faces turned into confusion.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked, his voice did not scare you, he sounded sweet. He seemed like a kind person.

“Jack, Cas, this is (Y/N). She showed up in the bunker out of nowhere.” Dean eyed you once more before getting up himself. Frustration could be felt & you hated that you were the one causing it. Never was it your intention to cause trouble in their lives but it looked like you just did by opening that damn door.

“Could you all maybe sit down? It makes me nervous when you’re all pacing like that.” you were surprised by your own voice. Usually you were never one to intervene, especially not in a situation like this. But you were exhausted & all you wanted was just to get back to your motel & these were the only people who could help your right now. All eyes shot to you & to your surprise, they began walking towards the table. Sam & Dean, taking the seats opposite of you. Castiel sat down right next to you & you hated how your heart skipped a beat by this simple action. You did not even know this man, he could be a killer. Jack took the chair next to Castiel & Sam made it his job to explain your situation briefly. All you could do was listen, your hands fiddling in your lap, still somewhat anxious to be here.

“Cas? Isn’t there a way you could…I don’t know, check her memories?” Dean added right after Sam finished explaining. Your confused face shifted between the two men, not understanding a single word. How could a stranger help you with your memories?

“I could try. But I need your permission to do that.” while saying the last part, his eyes looked straight into your (Y/E/C) ones. Damn, his eyes. His head tilted slightly & it was only then when you registered that he had asked you a question & you simply stared at him.

“Um, permission for what?”

“To take a look at your memories & see what you remember. We could help you after that.” his voice was so casual, as if he had done this multiple times. To you, though, it sounded like he was crazy.

“Right. And you can do that because…?”

“Because I’m an angel of the Lord.” Castiel stated. A what of the what now? A short laugh escaped you. Not because you laughed at him but because you were shocked & confused.

“Cas…” Sam mumbled & put his head in his hands. That was something he had wanted to keep from you. He had a feeling you had no idea about the supernatural & he wanted to keep it like that.

“You can trust him, (Y/N).” Dean chimed in.

���Will it hurt?” not that you were scared of the pain, your pain tolerance was pretty high but on the other hand, he had just told you he was an angel.

“Only a little.” Cas gave you a reassuring smile & that was when you decided you would let him do it. Because, frankly, you did trust him. Even though he might have some sort of mental illness.

Sam, Dean & Jack left the room to give Castiel some time to prepare & to give you time to calm down. He could tell by the way your leg was bouncing that you were highly uncomfortable but he was not sure how to help. His idea was to get it done quickly & then to bring you back where you came from. Hopefully, you would not ask too many questions. He already gave too much away by saying he was an angel. Replaying your face when he had said it eased him a bit. You did not look convinced at all which was probably for the best.

“Try to breathe more evenly, it’ll help.” you could tell he was trying to make this easier for you but you just wanted to get it done.

“I’m ready, let’s do this, please.” the plea at the end was almost inaudible but Castiel could hear it anyway.

Your eyes closed as you saw Castiel approaching. His fingers touched your temples gently but the next thing you felt was a short but piercing pain shooting through your entire body. It only lasted a few seconds & the only words you could make out before you fell unconscious were “You’re a Winchester?”.

“What do you mean she’s a Winchester?” Dean asked with shock written all over his features.

“She’s related to us?” it was Sam, he took the information way better than his older brother.

“Your sister, to be exact.” Castiel paused briefly, waiting if one of the boys wanted to add anything. He took their silence as a sign of continuing. “Her father’s diary, the one she was reading before she got here, it was John’s.”

“Wait, wait, wait…WE have his diary. There’s no way she has it. Besides, we would know if we had a sister.” Dean gestured with his hands to get his point across. He had never seen you, you could not have stolen the book from them.

“You’re right. But in her world, she was the one owning it. In her world, you guys are her brothers.”

“In her world? What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam decided to join the conversation, now wanting answers himself.

“She’s from an alternate universe. I expect she was reading through a spell or something similar & somehow she got sucked into our reality. From what I’ve seen in her head, the portal closed itself behind her so if she has no idea how she opened it & got here…well, it could be hard to bring her back. Besides, I’m not so sure she wants to go back there…” Castiel’s voice got quieter at the end of his sentence.

“Why not?” Dean imagined himself in your situation & he would do anything to get back.

“It’s not really my place to tell, I believe.” & before Dean could argue any further, Jack came running into the room.

“(Y/N)’s awake.” to that everyone followed behind him to one of the many bedrooms the bunker had to offer.

You were tired but the pain had completely disappeared. No matter how hard you tried, you still could not remember how exactly you got here. The door creaked & you looked up to find Sam, Dean, Castiel & Jack entering the room. You were no longer scared. Probably because you were way too exhausted to care.

“So?” you spoke up after a few seconds of silence. Castiel stepped forward & took a seat at the end of the bed you were lying in. His ocean blue eyes looked you over, making sure you no longer were in any pain. You nodded at him to show you were fine & with that Castiel told you what he had seen. It was a lot to take in but your tired state simply made you nod at everything he explained.

“The thing is…We don’t know how to get you back.” Sam approached you slowly, took a seat in a chair next to your bed.

“Cas?” ignoring Sam’s statement, you only had one question on your mind. Back in your world, you had spent years looking for your family. For your brothers. The ones being in the same room with you right now. Also, when did you start calling Castiel by his nickname? When did that happen? His humming gave you enough confidence to continue.

“Are they alive back home?” you did not have to mention names for Castiel to know who you were referring to. His face turned into one of sadness & you knew the answer without him saying anything.

“I don’t wanna go back.” every ounce of uncertainty was gone, you knew it was fate that you were here with all of them now. The four men shared a look, having a silent conversation again. Dean nodded but left the room a second later.

“Don’t mind him, he just needs time to process.” Sam’s sympathetic smile relaxed you a bit. The bunker was nice, so was the fact that you practically met your brothers but you were not planning on staying with them. Dean’s reaction showed you why. They had lived their lives without knowing they had a sister. You, on the other hand, had known about your brothers for years & yet you did not feel the satisfaction you had so desperately hoped for after finally finding them.

“It’s fine, I’ll get going soon.” with that, you sat up straight & tried standing up. A wave of dizziness kept you from doing so. Castiel was at your side in an instant & guided you back down.

“You need to rest.” he told you.

“You’re not staying?” Jack’s voice erupted from the door. You had almost forgotten he was there too. Your eyes focused on him briefly before you looked back down again, a blush slowly making its way up  on your cheeks.

“It’s for the better. I’ll be fine.”

“(Y/N). You’re our sister. Doesn’t matter if you’re from here or from another world. You’re family. We just found each other, we won’t let you leave again.” Sam’s words made you tear up. He did not know you, yet he told you that you were family & he wanted you to stay. For the first time, you felt like you belonged somewhere & you were overthrown with emotions. Since Castiel was closest to you, he sat himself next to you, threw an arm over your shoulder & pulled you into his chest. Usually, you hated crying in front of people but right now you could not care less. Besides, being in Castiel’s embrace felt right. What was it about him? Neither of them left the room, all staying with you for as long as you needed. When you could not feel more tears flowing down your cheeks, you slowly removed yourself from Castiel, immediately missing the warmth of his body. If you were about to stay here, he would be trouble, you could feel it already. Sam, Castiel & Jack then left the room, telling you to get some more rest & to scream for one of them if you needed anything. Details could be discussed another time.

They were right, you needed sleep. Time to sort your thoughts. Maybe that was the reason why you entered the bunker in the first place. Why you were not concerned about them brutally killing you. After waking up, you were more comfortable with the idea of sticking around with the boys. Sam told you Dean would come around eventually & you just hoped he was right. Getting up, you paddled to the door, quietly opening it since you did not know how late it was. There was a long hallway that looked exactly the same, no matter what direction you were looking at. Distant voices could be heard so you followed them & prayed you would not get lost in that labyrinth of a bunker. You had to ask your brothers a question. Your brothers. It felt weird to call them that but they were, right? Back home, you had read through your dad’s diary about a thousand times. You were familiar with what he wrote about. He called himself a hunter. Sadly, you were not about to meet him. Castiel had told you that he had died a long time ago. Sam & Dean were the only family you had left.

“Um, hi.” you made yourself present & Dean turned around to meet your eyes. He looked a lot less tense, thank God.

“Slept well?” at least he was attempting to start a conversation with you. Nodding your head, you walked over to where Jack was sitting. Dean spoke up again.

“Hey, sorry for how I acted earlier. It was just a lot at once. I do want you to stay. We do.” he emphasized his words. This made you smile. At first you were not sure about how Dean would react but this showed you that he was trying & that was enough. Telling him it was fine, you sat down next to Jack & looked over at what he was reading. The book was old but the condition it was in was surprisingly well. A cup was placed in front of you by Dean & you thanked him. He brought you coffee.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Where is Sam? I wanna ask you guys something.” feeling silly with how you put it, way more dramatic than it actually was.

“Right here.” Sam entered the room, walked past Dean & straight to you. A pat to your shoulder eased the tension a little.

“What is it?” Dean seated himself on top of the table.

“Okay, so…I just want you guys to be honest with me, okay?” both men nodded, Jack was lost in his book, he did not even hear you conversation. You continued.

“Monsters are real & you hunt them?” their eyes widened at your question but deep down they expected something like that. The diary you owned was filled with the supernatural.

“Yeah, we do. It’s kinda the family business.” Dean chuckled at the end. You were family but clearly you had never hunted any monster before.

“Okay.” was all you answered.

“Okay? That’s it? You’re not running outta the door?” Sam could not believe you. He expected you to freak out. On the other hand...you were a Winchester.

“I don’t know about you, Sam, but I let an angel of the Lord look into my head. Monsters don’t sound too crazy after this.” all of you laughed out. “So, you guys hunt the supernatural. Castiel is an angel? And Jack? What is he? Your trainee?” the mention of his name made Jack look at you & before the boys could answer your question, Jack decided to take matter into his own hands.

“I’m a nephilim. The offspring of a human & an angel. Lucifer is my father but not really, you know. My mother died when I was born but I have Sam, Dean & Cas. They are my family.” his smile was too pure for this world but the way he so casually talked about the fact that he was Lucifer’s son had you stunned.

“Sure.” was all you could manage at that point. Jack’s smile grew wider & he got back to reading.

“Welcome to our world? I guess?” Sam’s smile was faked but if you were honest, you could imagine yourself being thrown into this mess. Nothing you could not handle.

~a few months later~

“Guys? Have you seen Cas?” you came running into the kitchen where Sam & Dean were having breakfast.

“What? You boyfriend ditched you?” Dean teased & earned a slap from Sam. You simply rolled your eyes at him. Your brothers realized very soon after coming to them that you had a big crush on Cas & Dean loved to mess with you.

“Shut up, asshole. We’re about to leave for the case in Wisconsin but he’s not here.”

“I haven’t heard from him but come on, sit down & have breakfast with us.” Sam offered. You walked over to the boys & sat down next to Dean who handed you a cup of coffee right away. Your smile was a thank you enough.

“Seriously, though. When will you tell him?” Dean munched on his food, not even looking at you but you knew the question was directed at you.

“That we’re leaving for the case? He knows that, Dean.”

“That you like him.” scoffing could be heard. Sam enjoyed your banter in silence. That was one indicator that you were a their sister. After warming up to them, they found out you were actually a lot like Dean. This made you guys argue more often, never too severe, mainly siblings teasing each other.

“Right, & then we’ll have that apple pie life. Is that what you want? Dean, he doesn’t like me like that.”

“Yeah, he does. Poor dude is a mess whenever he talks to you.” again, you simply rolled your eyes at him. Yes, Cas could be awkward when you guys talked but then again, this was Cas.

“(Y/N)?” Cas came into the kitchen where he could hear voices. Immediately your head snapped up & a smile started forming. An action that did not go unnoticed by both, Sam & Dean. Neither mentioned it though.

“There you are, I got worried for a second.” you got up & pulled Cas into a hug. That was nothing special. The two of you hugged each other all the time. Another thing that Dean commented on a lot of the time. Apparently, Cas had never been much of a hugger before you had come around. You simply shrugged it off even though, deep down, your heart skipped a beat at the idea of you being the reason for his change.

“Jack needed to talk to me, I’m sorry.”

“No problem, are you ready?”

“Yes, we should get going anyway.”

“Alright, bye boys.” whenever one of you got ready for a hunt, you made sure to say goodbye properly. You never knew. The last few months, your brothers had helped you with the basics of hunting. If they were honest, it felt like you were born to be a hunter. You picked up the skills quickly & learned a lot about the supernatural in a very short time. Cas told you that it probably was because you were always meant to be here. After a while, you started believing him. At first, Sam & Dean told you you were not allowed to come on a hunt with them but after realizing that you were good at what you did, you became an inherent part of the team which you were grateful for. Now, they even let you leave with Cas, a big step forward.

“Your bag’s already in the trunk.” Cas pointed at the back of the car.

“Thanks, Cas.” you lovingly smiled at him. Yeah, you were totally into him. Cas stopped briefly & got closer to you. Yet, he made sure to keep a little bit of distance between the two of you.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he whispered & you felt like you could not breathe for a second. Had he heard your conversation with Dean earlier?

“W-What?” you hated how weak & nervous your voice sounded. Why could you not play it cool? Why did you have to make a fool out of yourself? Before you could even process what was happening, Cas slowly leaned in & pressed his lips to yours softly. You were too shocked to kiss him back, not knowing if it was really happening right now. Cas pulled back & he looked rather uncomfortable. Your face was still full of shock.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this. Just…Dean told me you liked me & then I heard your conversation & I thought you might-“ you cut his rambling off by pulling him close again. This time you kissed him & he lost no time in kissing you back. You let yourself get lost in the moment. You had dreamed about this particular moment for months & the fact that it was happening right now? Your body was on fire. When the both of you pulled apart for air, you could see Cas’ smile & you were sure your were blushing like crazy.

“So, Dean was right?” Cas’ hands settled on your waist & it felt natural. As if you had done it a thousand times.

“Remind me to kill him after this case.” you laughed & pulled Cas into a hug. He tightened his arms around you. Who would have thought, all those months ago, that you would end up with an actual family?

“Wasn’t he our…how do you call it? Wingman?” Cas chuckled after planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. He released you from the hug & you moved over to the passenger side. Your elbows were propped up on the hood & a smirk started forming at the corner of your mouth.

“Still. I told him to keep it to himself & he is my brother. I think I have permission to kill him for this.” of course you were joking & if you had to be honest, you were kind of glad that Dean could not keep his mouth shut. Cas walked over to the car, shaking his head at you but you could still see a small smile, opened the door & got in. You smiled to yourself. Finally, you knew that Cas did like you too. Where you were going from there? You were not sure yet. But there was a case you had to finish & it would take a few days to get it done. That would be enough time to figure out what you two were but you had a good feeling about this. It felt right & you had a home with people you loved & cared for. You were meant to be here from the start.

~to be continued?~ (let me know)

Part Two

Published (03/18/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @teelagurl558, @babymango-writes, @hollymac79 (thanks for your support <3)

#castiel #cas x reader #castiel x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #SPN #spn fanfiction #spn season 15 #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #imagine #reader insert #reader imagine #winchester!reader #winchester!sister #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #Jack Kline #Misha Collins #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #alexander calvert #alternate universe #angst #fluff #writing #original story

[donutloverxo]

First time

Kinktober day 15 - Virginity kink

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Note - So anon asked for step dad Steve and I can't do that to Steve. This started out as step dad ransom but then me being me couldn't go through with it🤦‍♀️ so he's supposed to be your stepmoms husband which still makes him your step dad, I think.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Warnings - 18+ONLY! smut(m/f), dub conish, painful sex, unprotected sex, implied age gap, loss of virginity, bloodplay.

Pairing - Step dad!Ransom Drysdale x reader

Word count - 2.3k

Masterlists are linked in the bio!

“Oh! Don’t act like you care. I can tell you wouldn’t give a shit if I left for an entire year. I’m not one of your barely legal bimbos you can manipulate however you like,” Karen ranted on and on to Ransom. You didn’t know what they were fighting about today - you didn’t care to find out either.

“God! Would you fucking give me a break? All you do is yap your trap all day long,” he snapped at her.

You looked at the main door, to leave your house you would have to go through the hallway where both of them were having their ‘lively' discussion, which you had no intentions to be a part of.

Karen gave him a deadly glare - which literally gave you chills even though you weren’t on the receiving end of it.

She walked closer to him, until she was only inches away from his face, “For your own good,” wrapping her palm around his chiselled jaw “don’t forget your place. You do not curse at me or yell at me.”

He didn’t say anything back, simply holding her unwavering glare.

She looked at the stairs, her face instantly lighting up into a faux smile upon seeing you. “Darling, what are you doing there? Come here,” she said extending an arm to you. You walked down to her, she engulfed you into a hug, soothing a hand over your head, “Mommy has to go away for a while, to Paris for fashion week. I know that’s not something you’d be interested in.”

You shook your head. No, those events were a bit too stuffy for you. You dared to sneak a glance at Ransom, he was fuming. His jaw clenched hard, his face and neck flushed as he heaved. You weren’t sure if that rage was directed towards you or your stepmother.

“Fuck this shit,” he spit before leaving and slamming the door behind him. You cringed at the loud noise it made. You were relieved that he was gone, given what he had done in his impulsivity and rage, you didn’t want to be around him when he was that angry.

“Well?” Karen’s question snapped you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You better not be going to meet that Jack or John or whatever.”

“His names Jeremy, Karen, and I really like him. If you got to know him - ”

“I don’t need to know him. He does not bring anything to the table. He doesn’t even deserve to breathe in the same air as you.”

“A rich guy can treat me badly too. I don’t know why you think I can’t be happy with a normal person.” you shook your head. She of all people should not be questioning your taste in men.

“His fathers a fucking high school teacher, honey,” she scoffed. “No, I won’t have you dating a nobody.”

“Well, Ransoms a friggin' murderer!” you screamed. “What kind of man conspires to kill his own grandfather?!”

She had married him just months after he was declared 'not guilty' of not one, but TWO murders. Although, everyone knew that he definitely did it.

You begged her not to marry him. But she seemed to be completely smitten with him, besides she had never really valued your opinion or seen you as an adult.

“Say what you will about Ransom. But he has the name - he’s a Thrombey, he comes from old money. As annoying as he can be - he’s not hideous to look at either, I suppose.”

That was the only thing you might be inclined to agree with. You hated that some part of you was attracted to him. Even though, he was a terrible person. He treated ‘the help', the people who raised you and cared for you as if they were beneath him.

He treated Karen like shit - which she may deserve, you knew of her affairs and the one French boyfriend she was visiting under the guise of business.

He was however, completely indifferent to you. He never got in your way, sometimes you could feel his eyes on you, following every move you made. Sometimes you wondered... if maybe... some part of him found you attractive as well.

You knew you weren’t much to look at, especially compared to your stepmother, but then why else would he be staring so much?

Was he plotting to OFF you as well? To get you out of his way. You’d be inheriting most of your late fathers estate.

***

You closed the door behind you, as quietly as you could so as not to wake anyone. You got home a little later than midnight. You weren’t used to staying out that long but it was one of your best friends birthday.

“What were you doing out so late?” You yelped as you heard his voice.

“Ransom! Oh my gosh, you scared me,” you tried to catch your breathe.

“It’s after twelve. Who were you out with?” he raised a brow. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

“Huh?” you looked down at your bodycon dress. You weren’t used to wearing clothes that tight but this one just seemed so pretty and perfect to capture Jeremy’s attention. “It’s Karen’s design,” you shrugged. It was provocative but classy and respectable which was your stepmothers brand.

“What kind of message do you think you’re sending dressing like that? If you want to be the talk of the town - ”

“Ransom, oh my god! It’s just a dress and I’m - I’m a virgin!” you confessed. It wasn’t something you were ashamed of - why would you be?

“What?” his eyes widened and his mouth gaped.

He had known you were a pretty little thing since the moment he met you. So shy and demure and pure. Of course you’d be a virgin. Like a perfect present waiting to be unwrapped.

You almost smiled at that. Stunning Ransom like that made you feel smug for some reason. “Yeah. I’m saving myself for the right guy.” you replied in a small voice, averting his gaze and looking at the carpet.

He took two long strides and walked over to you, before you knew it he had a firm grasp on your waist, pulling you against his hard chest. “And what’s the right guy like, sweetheart?”

“Someone - uh,” your brain blanked, having him that close to you, feeling his warm breath on your face almost made you black out.

He bent his neck till he was closer to your ear, “Well, don’t lose it to Jeremy or whatever. He won’t even know what to do with a sweet thing like you.”

You gasped, trying to push him away but his stance was unrelenting. “That is so inappropriate, Ransom! You’re married!”

He grabbed at your failing wrists, pinning them behind your back, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. Karen and I have an arrangement. You ever been kissed before?” he asked, his tongue peaking out to kick his plump lips.

“Wh - ” you swallowed a heavy lump of air, looking away from him, “No,” tears streaming down your face.

He chuckled, licking a firm stripe up your cheek, moaning at the taste of your tears. “We’ll fix that tonight, princess.”

You shuddered in his hold, it finally hit you. He intended to have his way with you. “Karen!” you screamed at the top of your lungs.

“She’s not home, sweetheart,” he smirked, pushing his knee between your legs, “I thought you wanted this? I heard you saying my name while touching yourself. I’ll do better than your little fingers ever could,” he grinded his knee against your core.

You whimpered, scared out of your mind for your life and ashamed. Ashamed of being caught, of being aroused and getting more and more wetter. Your hips rolling against his knee to seek more friction.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth till it hurt and then releasing it with a pop. “If you keep being good and take what I give you - I’ll make you feel good too.” He held on to your forearm, dragging you up the stairs towards his room.

“No, no... not in your room. In mine, please,” you whimpered, his nails digging in the flesh of your arm. They might have an 'arrangement' but you doubted Karen would appreciate you doing the deed in her bed.

“Fine with me,” he dragged you along, locking your door behind him as he pushed you down on your mattress.

He pulled his t-shirt over his head, quickly discarding all his clothes. You couldn’t help but shamelessly ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and abs. He was bigger than any boy you knew. Your jaw dropped at the size of his cock, slapping against his abdomen when he pulled down his boxers.

“Like what you see, princess?” he smirked.

Hovering over you, his hands tearing your dress apart, you feebly tried to stop him, “That was expensive, Ransom!”

“I can just buy you another one,” he winked, rolling your panties down your legs.

You rolled your eyes. Yeah, with my own money.

Your arms flew up to your naked chest and mound, to cover up and save your modesty.

He growled, pulling them away and pressing them on the mattress above you. “These better fucking stay here all night, understood?”

You were too afraid to do anything but nod.

“Never popped anyone’s cherry before... this should be interesting,” he snaked a hand between your bodies, pinching your clit causing you to jerk away from him.

He didn't bother fingering you or preparing you, he knew you'd be tighter without it - he had about enough of foreplay anyway.

“Please, be gentle,” you requested, looking up at him through your doe eyes, pleading him - you had never felt so utterly helpless.

He cruelly laughed at your misery, his lips curled up in a devilish smirk, “I don't do gentle, kitten. You'll take what I fucking give you - ” he growled positioning himself between your legs, brushing his leaking tip over your chaste, untouched folds “and then thank me for it. Like the slut you are.”

You couldn't even begin to grasp or point out the logical fallacy of a virgin slut as his cock plunged into your heat, piercing through your virginity, splitting you in half.

Your back arched off the bed, you slapped your hands over your mouth to keep from screaming. It was painful, that was all you felt - pain. As he held onto your waist, his fingers digging in your flesh, his hips pulling out and then driving into you with an unrelenting pace.

You could not stop crying, or twisting your head from side to side. Knowing it was all you could do - he wouldn’t stop - no matter how much you pleaded. You weren’t sure you wanted him to stop.

He pressed a few kisses and nips to the crook of your neck, sucking on a spot as you held back a moan.

He propped himself up on his elbows to look down at you, your eyes and nose swollen, your make up running down your face - you looked more beautiful than you ever had before.

“You look so pretty when you cry, kitten,” he cooed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

He kept driving his cock into you, searching for that special spot as you kept mewling under him.

His heart swelled with pride, nobody’s ever fucked you before, he’s the first man that’s ever seen you naked or to be inside you.

“Do you want me to stop?” he stilled his hips, “Just say the word then.” He knew you wouldn’t.

You sniffled, shaking your head, “No, keep going, please.”

His lips curled up in a grin, taking some kind of twisted pleasure in your misery, “You’re something else, kitten.”

“Oh,” you closed your eyes, your toes curling, your legs holding onto his waist as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you.

Ransom leaned over you when he felt your heat convulsing around him, pulling your earlobe between his teeth, “This is the tightest little cunt I’ve ever fucked,” he grunted, driving each word home with a powerful thrust. “You like that, kitten?”

All you could do was nod, the pain was well as much more subdued now but you were still sore and exhausted. “Yes, I like it.”

“We’re going to do this every night from now on.”

He pulled out fisting his cock over you - he wasn’t going to impregnate his newest plaything - his white, hot spend painting your stomach and titts.

Your fingers swirled the sticky substance around on your skin, you were curious to see what it tasted like. You clenched your legs shut, your pussy still tingly. This was not how you planned your first time to go but you had no regrets.

You knew you were absolutely wrong to think so but being desired by Ransom gave you a strange kind of pride.

You gasped when you heard a click, sitting up on your elbows you looked at Ransom clicking pictures of your pussy with his phone.

“Wh - what’re you doing?” you tried to close your legs but he kept a firm hand on your knee.

“Just need a souvenir,” he responded, taking some more of his cum on your body and then putting his phone in his pocket. He swirled a finger around the blood on your inner thigh, bringing it up to paint the crimson on your mouth, “Go clean yourself up. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

You smiled as he kissed you, “Okay, Ransom.”

Even with your pussy freshly fucked - you couldn’t wait for his next visit.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

#kinktober #ransom drysdale x you #ransom x reader #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #knives out fanfic #berrys kinktober #berry writes

[ohnopoe]

Main Attraction | Jack Daniels

Ship: Jack Daniels x afab!Reader Summary: Going undercover can be fun, but sometimes the target isn’t the only one you find yourself distracting Word Count: 2.5k+ Author’s Note: This is my INSANELY late entry for the wonderful @din-damn-djarin‘s Song Prompt Writing Challenge! My song was, of course, Main Attraction by Jeremy Renner. Also, super sorry, I do try and keep my readers as gender neutral as possible, but this one just kinda happened!

The job was simple, well, as simple as it could be when partnered with none other than Jack Daniels himself. You’d been briefed, of course, taken note of every detail Champ had thrown in your direction, but the truth of it was, you hardly needed it.

Your role was one you’d played before, hell, you’d played it so damn often that it was practically second nature at this point.

You were the distraction.

So many times you’d been tasked with the role, especially as one of the very few female agents at Statesman, and often it was a lot of fun. High class, expensive balls, exclusive events you’d never attend otherwise. It had left your wardrobe bustling with beautiful dresses and outfits that Champ saw no reason for you not to keep, each attached with memories of fun filled nights where you kept the bad guys captivated as whichever agent you were partnered with did the heavy lifting, searching for whatever it was you were after.

There was something ethereal about standing before your wardrobe, running your fingers over gowns you could never dream to afford otherwise, they were a hint at another life, the life of your covers, of something luxurious and exquisite, something many dreamt of.

But those gowns remained exactly where they belonged tonight, on hangers and dust covers, safe at home and far from the dangers of your job.

No, this distraction asked for something very different. It wasn’t about long flowing gowns, or diamonds that caught even the subtlest of lighting, shining their brilliance throughout the room. Tonight called for something far from all of that, but just as captivating, if the glances Jack had been throwing your way were anything to go off.

The drive had been surprisingly quiet, in fact, you would have been worried that Jack was actually nervous, had you not caught the way he quickly glanced away when you caught him staring at the high hemline of your skirt out of the corner of his eye.

You’d been on missions like this together plenty of times before, with plunging necklines and slits up your thigh that were meant to keep the gaze of anyone who so much as glanced past you. And every time that you did, he would be there with some flirtatious comment that would have had your cheeks burning if you didn’t know he did the same to just about anyone with legs.

But this was different, it was as though the tight little dress had stolen not just his words, but his ability to think straight.

It had been almost amusing as you arrived at the secretly shady club. The way he refused to meet your gaze, the way his hand hovered against the small of your back as you entered, where he would usually happily use the excuse to play to the role, his hand slipping just a little lower than necessary.

But, that was then.

Two hours ago.

You’d been in the club for two damn hours, with all manner of lecherous men taking in what they could of your rather exposed body, and if that wasn’t getting old quick, the lack of progress certainly was.

Surely, he had to have found the papers you were after by now, it wasn’t as if the secretive sub-basement was even that big to begin with. But still, your comms remained irritatingly Jack free.

Songs bled from one to another, without any real hint as to where one ended and another begun. And you continued to dance, continued to throw just enough flirtatious glances over to the men you knew were using the club as a front for, well, let’s say nefarious activities, to keep them where they were, to keep them well away from the mission Jack was on.

But then he was there, lingering off to the side, against a wall; as if he could ever truly blend in. How no one else noticed a fucking cowboy in a club, you had no idea. How none of the women that passed him by bothered to give a second look, well, that astounded you. Even in the most ridiculous of outfits, he stole your attention at every turn, yet there he was, the covert agent of the two of you. Champ must have been losing his damn mind.

Catching his gaze, you raised a brow in question, hoping he had what you were after so you could get the hell out of there, but he gave nothing away as his lips slowly drew into a smirk, eyes drinking you in as you continued to dance amongst the crowd.

“Jack,” your voice was low over your comms, a warning tone, but the way his gaze instantly met yours gave you no sense of accomplishment, no, he was enjoying this too much. “Please tell me we can move soon.”

And there it was again, that damn silence that had your skin crawling.

It felt unnatural for Jack to be so damned quiet. Where were the quips, the quick flirtatious lines? Hell, you’d even take criticism if it just got him to say something.

But instead he just watched and, was that a drink in his hand? Oh hell no! The bastard had clearly gone up to the bar at some point to order a drink, and there you were, still putting on a show for men who made your stomach curl.

“That drink better mean you got it,” you muttered once more, watching the way his lips curled into a more prominent smirk as he took in your words. But still, he didn’t respond, simply watching you over his glass of whiskey as he took a long, slow sip of the watered down liquor.

Damn that man.

If he didn’t have it, you were going to have to think of something, and quickly. There was only so long you could keep the targets on the perfect level between intrigued and not actually trying anything, without losing their interest all-together.

But if he did have it, oh, you were going to kick his ass when you got out of there.

Movement at the booth before you captured your attention. Some of the group were on the move, and it looked awfully like they were getting ready to go back to business, to go downstairs… where Jack was meant to steal the papers you needed.

Glancing back towards where Jack had been lingering against the wall, you were met with an empty space that had you gulping nervously. Hopefully, he had noticed they were on the move, hell, hopefully he’d already taken what he needed to so you could be out of there already.

In your panicked thoughts, you didn’t even notice the way a new body shifted through the dance floor until the warmth of their body radiated through the thin fabric of you little red dress.

“Relax, it’s just me,” Jack’s voice was like velvet, that southern twang drawing out each word languidly. It was the same tone he used when you needed to calm down, when your fears and anxieties got the best of you. The same tone he used when convincing you to rest, to let him take the first shift and just get some sleep while he looked after you both. It was the same tone he used when the others couldn’t hear him over the comms, when work slipped away, and Jack was just- Jack.

And it worked, for all of a few seconds. Your shoulders dropped, your body unwinding from the tight coil it had wound itself up in defensively. It worked, until you remembered the bastard still hadn’t actually told you if he’d got the damned papers.

“Jack, if you don’t have-”

“Relax, I got it,” he interrupted, each word dancing over your skin, his lips so damn close to your ear that there was no way anyone could over hear him.

Humming in approval, and finally feeling the calming effect that having Jack by your side on the job always seemed to bring, you began to turn towards him, only to have him stop you.

His hands were playing against the fabric of your dress, so light you could almost believe you were imagining the gently caresses, were it not for the warmth he emanated.

Your words were oddly reluctant as you spoke again, your mind desperate to remind you of the job at hand, no matter how much your heart and body wanted to lose themselves to the man behind you. “Then can we go?”

“Don’t wanna rush off too quick, do we? Might cause a fuss,” and while normally you might argue, might point out that every minute spent in the humid club was another minute for the target to realise what you had taken, you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to fight him.

Not when those large hands spread out against your waist, holding you with that same lingering care that had you catching your breath when you arrived. Not when his breath danced over the bare skin of your neck and shoulder, so light that you worried it would draw out goosebumps. Not when the smell of his cologne was filling your senses, intoxicating and captivating.

No, maybe one dance wasn’t the worst idea, especially as it gave you an excuse to raise your hands behind you, to sink your fingers into the small curls at the base of Jack’s neck as he hummed happily against you.

Even the music, grating and loud, seemed more acceptable with Jack swaying behind you. And, sure, it was still part of the show, an excuse to leave the dwindling audience without being obvious, an out before any of them got too possessive of what they thought was all for them, but with your eyes closed, and the warmth of his body pressed up against yours, for a moment, you could pretend.

You could pretend that it was real, that you were just out for a night off with the man that had captured your attention the moment he tilted his stupid hat in your direction. You could pretend that his hands wandering against you reverently were truly filled with the care and devotion that they played at. You could pretend that this was completely normal.

It was over too soon, but even in your blissed out moment of daydreaming, you couldn’t begin to pretend that it was still the same harsh electronic beat that had begun when he had sidled up behind you, even if it seemed Jack was in no great hurry to leave either.

But you had to, especially now that the group you had been keeping an eye on was dwindling even further as you found yourself distracted by Jack’s touch.

Pulling your hands from him felt like a magnitudinous feet, something you ought to be proud of as you turned in his hold. He didn’t back away, didn’t remove his hands from your waist, he merely stood there, staring down at you with a look in his eyes that- no, that was a trick of the fluorescent lights. There was nothing there, but the usual mischief that always lingered beneath the surface.

“We should go,” when had your voice turned so soft?

“We should,” he agreed, but made no move to leave, lingering there in the moment, until it seemed as though a switch had been flicked within him, and he was pulling away. “Come on,” he nodded towards the doorway, hand taking yours so gently that it had your heart thumping away in your chest almost violently.

The cold air of the night hit you the moment you made it outside, and with it came your wits. Jack’s hand was dropping your own in an instant, as if it had burnt him, and any feelings of warmth that had been brewing within you left at the movement. And then those thoughts were there, questions and irritations, bubbly away below the surface, now taking centre stage as you searched your bag for the keys.

It wasn’t safe to linger on the softness you felt towards your fellow agent, it would only end in heartache, only cause you issues on the job. But anger, irritation, that was much safer.

Your steps were fast, desperate to put as much distance between you and the club as possible as you focused on the brewing rage.

You could focus on the way he waited, stood on the sidelines as you distracted the target, as he took his time when you should have been making your way far from the club. You could focus your attention on the completely unpredictable manner his personality seemed to shift, emotions flaring from playful and light to silence in a matter of seconds, without a hint of explanation. You could focus on your damn job, the reason you were there in the first place.

“You want to tell me what took you so damn long?” you were fuming as you started the car, not daring to look towards the source of your irritation.

“What can I say, I was distracted,” he answered so easily that it only stoked the fire within you.

“By what Jack?” your tone was harsh, harsher than it had ever been directed towards him as you peeled out of the carpark, ready to merge amongst the masses and lose any trace of you in the crowd. “You were standing there for god knows how long, and you must have found the papers beforehand- so I don’t see what-”

“By you sugar,” he interrupted with a warm chuckle that fought to melt the icy barrier you had placed around your heart once more. And it was working, hell, it always worked. It was like he was your own personal kryptonite, and it left you floundering.

“By- what are you- Jack, this isn’t funny. If I’m going to have to report to Champ about why it took us a damn hour longer than expected, I want a serious answer.”

Silence answered you, filling the car just as it had on the way to the club, but it was different now. Emotions fought against one another, and it was stifling.

And then, just as you thought you couldn’t take another damn second of his silence, he spoke, humour and something you couldn’t quite place filling his tone, making it softer than you had expected. “You’re kidding, right?”

You didn’t reply, only throwing a deadly serious glare his way to show just how much you were not kidding, before returning your attention to the road.

“We’ve done a few of these now, you distracting, me going in… Don’t get me wrong, you look downright gorgeous in those gowns of yours, but this-” he paused, nodding towards the dress you were sporting, the dress that hadn’t come from Statesman, but was something you had bought yourself, albeit some years ago. “You’re stunnin’, and I don’t just mean because I can get a good look at you.”

You almost hated the way your body betrayed you at his words, your glare softening, a smile beginning to play at your lips at him just being, well, him.

“This is more you, and you, well, you’re the perfect distraction, darlin’.”

#jack daniels #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman #my fic

[solarune]

behind closed doors

Anonymous said: hello! hope you're doing well <3 for the prompt game can i request doyoung misc 13 and maybe a detective au ^___^

pairing: kim doyoung x reader

genre: humor, slight angst and fluff at the end, detective au, assassin au

warnings: mentions of violence, interrogation

word count: 1,375

a/n: ngl i struggled with this one a bit bc i’ve never written or read a detective au before and i haven’t read many doyoung fics but after watching a lot of videos, i’d like to say i think i captured doyoung’s personality pretty decently? let me know what you think!

Your eyes wander around the room for the 17th time and as you’re inspecting the crack in the paint on the wall to your right again, you begin to wonder just how long they plan on leaving you alone—and what the hell it’s supposed to accomplish. Turning to the left, you direct your gaze a bit upwards in the one-way mirror, hoping that your guess is right and that you’re looking directly into the eyes of whoever is on the other side.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought I was put into the ‘interrogation room’,” you muse. “It’s been around an hour though and there has been no interrogation whatsoever. What’s the hold up? Is it because I asked for a hot detective? I’m sure those are hard to come by, everyone I saw on the way here is either too old or too boring-”

The door finally opens, causing you to shut your mouth, and you watch as the detective closes the door and takes the seat in front of you. He doesn’t look in your direction or even say a word to you, too busy setting up his papers in front of him and fixing his crooked tie. When he finally looks up, his piercing gaze is nothing short of breathtaking and your nails dig into the palm of your hand as you try to get a grip.

“Well hey there, handsome,” you greet him before biting your lower lip and winking at him. “What’s your name? You come here often?”

“Well, I work here,” he replies with a bored voice. “So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’. Everything we discuss from here on out will be recorded so please state your name and then we’ll begin.”

“(Y/L/N) (Y/N).”

“And where were you on the night of-”

“Are you not going to state your name?” you interrupt him, and you have to hold back a laugh when you hear him huff at your interruption. “I don’t think it’s fair that I have to say my name but you don’t have to say yours. I even asked you earlier, it’s a bit rude that you ignored my question.”

The detective looks directly into your eyes and you watch as his own flicker back and forth, as if searching for something. When he leans back in his chair after a few seconds, he looks satisfied, as if he found the answer to a question that only he knows. “Detective Kim Doyoung, at your service. Now where were you on the evening of October 12th at approximately 6:15pm?”

You lean back in your own chair as you pretend to think. You know exactly where you were on that night. Playing with the chain of the handcuffs attached to your wrist, you hum thoughtfully. “That was a Friday, right? I was probably still at the bar getting drunk after a long week of work. My co-workers and I like to go to happy hour and mingle with the other business-y type people. You know how the corporate world is. Networking is everything.”

Doyoung scribbles something in his notebook, too far away for you to see, and the expression on his face is unreadable, so you have absolutely no idea as to what he could be thinking. “I don’t, actually. Why don’t you enlighten me on the corporate world? Does it involve sniper rifles and rooftops?”

A shocked laugh escapes your mouth as an incredulous look appears on your face. “I don’t know what kind of movies you’ve been watching lately, detective, but the media always associates business with drugs and money. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of finance majors having side jobs as hitmen.”

And that’s how the interrogation continues, with Doyoung throwing question after question at you. Any rookie would be quivering in their seat after the second hour but by the fifth, all you’re starting to feel is hungry. You could continue dodging his questions for an entire week if you had to and you plan on stalling for as long as possible. All according to plan, you think to yourself as you give yet another snide remark. The detective looks exhausted at this point, and after witnessing him drink his fourth cup of coffee, you begin to count down the minutes until he calls this whole thing off. It’s just a matter of time.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he mutters as he glares at you, gathering his papers and making sure he leaves nothing behind before leaving the room.

You wave at him as he exits, shooting him a smirk through the small window of the door as he looks back at you once before walking away. Leaning back in your chair, you turn your head to look at the one-way mirror once more and give whoever’s standing on the other side a wide smile. “Looks like Detective Pretty Boy’s getting a bit tired. You guys should swap him out for someone else, maybe then you’ll be able to get whatever information you think that I have for some reason. Don’t know what that could be since I work in the marketing department of an entertainment company but hey, maybe I’ll surprise both myself and you guys!”

A thud is heard from the other side of the glass and it takes everything in you to not laugh in glee. They’re getting frustrated. Fourteen hours and they haven’t managed to get anything out of you. What a bunch of amateurs.

Doyoung comes back in the room with two officers behind him, all of them looking stoic as they look down on you. “You’re free to go,” the detective announces through gritted teeth, watching as one of the police officers removes your handcuffs.

“Aw, and we were having so much fun,” you protest with a pout, your lower lip jutting out as the two officers escort you out. “Hopefully we can meet again soon, detective. We can put those handcuffs to a different kind of use.”

He almost spits out his coffee at your words, his neck turning red at your dirty suggestion, and you can’t help but laugh. You’ve always loved men in uniform. Always so easy to rile up.

“Honey, I’m home!” you announce as you walk into your apartment. The smell of food comes wafting in from the kitchen and you follow it to find your boyfriend cooking dinner.

“Took you long enough,” Doyoung says with a soft smile, presenting you with a plate full of food. “Eat up, I’m sure you’re hungry after that long interrogation session.”

You press a kiss to his cheek as you take the plate from him, and he follows behind you as you make your way to the dining table. When you sit down, all of the exhaustion associated with an 8 hour long interrogation finally hits you; every bone in your body feels like it’s aching and your stomach feels like it’s about to turn inside out from how hungry you are. “Good job with that, by the way, I think we really fooled them. Those acting lessons with Jaehyun really paid off!”

“We wouldn’t have had to fool them in the first place if someone hadn’t been careless,” Doyoung points out, fork pointed in your direction as he quirks an eyebrow at you. “You know the rules, (Y/N).”

A sigh leaves your lips as you set your own fork down. You think back to Friday night, and you wince at the memory of Sungchan almost getting himself killed in a moment of panic. You had saved him and the mission but it had caused you to break the #1 rule: leave no trace behind. “I had no choice, Doyoung,” you mumble, unable to even look him in the eye. “I couldn’t just let him die. He’s my little brother.”

He reaches a hand across the table and places it on top of yours. “I know.”

When you look up, Doyoung’s eyes hold nothing but sympathy in them. Even experienced assassins still have feelings, although only behind closed doors. He squeezes your hand in comfort and you squeeze back, and the two of you continue eating dinner in silence with your hands still held together.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #kwritersworldnet #kim doyoung x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #doyoung drabble #doyoung scenario #kim doyoung drabble #kim doyoung scenario #nct au #doyoung fluff #doyoung humor #kim doyoung fluff #nct fluff #nct fic #nct 127 fic #nct 127 drabble #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #nct imagine #nct 127 imagine #doyoung imagine #nct romance #kim doyoung romance

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Queen Takes

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 1938

Summary:

With Beth home from Moscow, her friends gather to celebrate her achievement. One guest arrives late.

The colour of Kentucky feels like a trick after Moscow. Her blue home—her mother’s home—is a playhouse, not the American standard it’s masquerading as. Sure, Russia with its cold, with its blacks and browns across the walls of the hotel where she stayed and on the jackets of the old men in the park, is striving for a monopoly on drab stoicism, but Beth Harmon passed her early years in a trailer as silver as a bare tin can. You can find barrenness anywhere, even inside a person.

Across the coffee table, Jolene looks back at Beth like she knows what she’s thinking, those morbid thoughts. Beth can hear the smooth crack of her friend’s voice in her head. It’s… comforting, the sense that someone can simultaneously have no time and all the time in the world for her. Jolene’s eyes don’t tell her she’s a fool for taking so long to recognize love or a genius for refusing the draw (plus everything before and after)—they just say, nice dress. Subtly, Beth raises her Coke and inclines it towards her friend. Thanks.

Matt and Mike are keeping her living room balanced, one twin on either couch. Harry’s moving his hands with precision and intensity as he reiterates the brilliance of Beth’s endgame over Borgov, though Jolene is laughing at him, laughing in airy howls, because she has no interest in chess. Unlike Alma/Mrs. Wheatley/Mother, Jolene does not possess the patience to sit and listen while Beth unravels her win, move by move. How different is a friend from a sister, a sister from a mother, a mother from another mother again. This is fine. Beth, smiling, admires her guests and accepts that she has quite enough chess-lovers in her life.

There’s a knock at the door.

Jolene’s laugh cuts off like there should be a blade dangling in midair.

“Well,” she says to Beth, “go get him.”

“He’s worse than any of these three,” Beth warns with a smile, stalling and hopefully concealing the waver in her words, hands, and heartbeat.

“I’m anticipating a sanctimonious pain in the ass, and that’s just from the articles I read about you playing him.”

“You could’ve met him in New York,” Mike says as Beth gets a grip on herself and the couch, pushing up and striding with sudden purpose to the front door.

“Fight New York City traffic in my nice car? Just to sit in some dirty concrete basement? All of you talking nothing but chess?” She huffs a laugh from her nose. “Even when I was an orphan, I had better things to do than that.”

Beth’s heart is doing something painful and distracting in her chest and she misses any rejoinder the boys might have made, though she wouldn’t advise one. Very few people are so much their own person as Jolene is. Very few. Her hand is clammy on the knob as she takes hold and swings the door open. He doesn’t speak, and yet she hears, again, his voice down the long, long line, reaching her in her hotel room the night before the final. He doesn’t even smile.

“Benny,” Beth breathes, and collapses into him when he greets her with a startling kiss that captures the remainder of her oxygen. Her eyebrows raise when he pulls back. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

His gaze dips down to her dress and back to her face. Now, he smiles.

“I guess I’m playing white.”

She narrows her eyes.

“What happened to determining sides with an impartial method?”

“Don’t have any pieces on me to hide in my hands. You wouldn’t happen to have a board in the house, would you?”

Beth smiles again and holds the door wide to let Benny enter her home. She sees his car tucked against the curb out front. Likely, it contains his hat. His head is uncovered.

“And that was fair, by the way,” he whispers as she walks him into the living room. “When have you known me to skip a chance at making the first move?”

With the addition to the party, there are fresh drinks to be poured, trips to the bathroom to be taken, and things are shuffled around some until Jolene joins Beth on one couch, the twins and Benny opposite. He’s slung his leather jacket over the back of the couch and elects to sit forward. With his elbows braced on his thighs in this way and fingers intertwined in the space between, he could be contemplating one of their many games. But it’s her he looks at—staring straight across with a steadiness she can’t match in front of the others.

Jolene and Benny swap remarks, her judgements a strange and wonderful counter for the way he has always spoken in foregone conclusions. She calls him by his full name every time, just the way she told Beth she read it. As the afternoon stretches and Jolene’s career ambitions take their place in the conversation, Benny begins to call her ‘Esquire’. Beth looks on warily. Jolene breaks into a slow smile and nods her permission with a proud bob of her chin.

They bring out the cake she’s been pretending not to know about. Once, on a plane, she told her mother that a Houston tournament would take first place in her life’s Christmases; well, this feels like the best birthday she’s ever had and she doesn’t even have to age for it. Beth only cries at moments of excruciating frustration or when she is ambushed by emotion, no escape route of three moves prepared, so, naturally, the tears spill over.

“You. You did this,” Jolene insists, firm hold on her shoulders as she rocks Beth side to side on the couch.

Beth can only sniffle and smile down at the cake, chocolate, as Benny wields a knife (from a drawer in the kitchen) to slice uneven pieces. It’s heavenly. Despite high hopes of leftovers and sending each guest home with a slice, the six of them devour the cake. Harry chases the last crumbs around his plate, Matt groans and kicks his feet up on the table in search of relief for his overstuffed stomach, and Beth lies on the floor, raking her fork lazily through the icing before raising it to her lips and licking the tines clean. It’s only the pleasure of the day she means to extend with this exercise, but she can feel Benny’s eyes on her. Black makes its opening move.

She hugs each of her friends at the door as they drag themselves away. The alternative is to risk passing out across her chic living room set, and she hasn’t offered to let them stay. If any of them asked, she certainly would, but no one is at a loss for where they’ll be spending the night and they’re all—Beth knows—too aware of the car parked out front with the New York plates to want to intrude.

“You’re a queen,” Jolene says. She’s the final person to fold her into a hug. “You deserve this and more. And I bet,” she adds, dropping her voice so it’s just for Beth, not Benny, standing at the picture window and watching the boys drive away, “tonight’s going to feel even better than when you wiped Ohio with his skinny ass. Or whatever the hell happened between the two of you since then.”

Beth draws back, hands still on her friend’s waist, and gives her a look.

“Please,” Jolene begs, “it’s obvious. You’re World Champion and I am staring at the only thing Benny Watts wants to win.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “This and more, Cocksucker.”

Laughing out loud, they break apart. Beth’s flushed as she waves from the doorway, arm making a wide sweep over her head, tears of gratitude welling up as her friend peels away. She dabs beneath her eyes with her fingers. She shuts the door. She flicks her eyes to Benny as she sidles around the little bit of wall separating the living room from the front room, dominated by her mother’s piano.

“I threw up in that one,” Beth volunteers, pointing out a silver cup trophy to Benny as he turns from the window. He shoots her a critical look.

“And the papers all say you’re so glamorous.”

“Everyone’s different in their own home.”

Benny gives a sideways nod to concede this.

“You’re different, I think,” she ventures. She’s less sure now, skirting the piano to come closer to him. “Like you might actually sit down.”

“I sit down,” he protests.

“For something other than a journalist.”

“I sat on your couch for hours.”

“Like you might actually stay.”

Him not entertaining her with flimsy attempts to leave, to find a hotel for the night, was his move. This boldness is Beth’s. Will he laugh at her? He could. She wonders if Harry ever mentioned to Benny that he did a stint as her roommate.

“Are you going to pull something inflatable out of someplace and condemn me to blowing it up?”

She laughs under her breath.

“No. You’re welcome to come upstairs.”

There are dishes, a light left on in the kitchen, but this mess is unlike what she did to the space herself while drunk. This scene is simply lived-in. Beth ignores the dishes and the light, eyes locked on Benny. It isn’t ‘now or never’ with him like it was with Harry—with Benny, it’s then and again. He brushes by her at the piano, the way he would in his New York apartment before they began sleeping together; the more he made sure not to touch her, the smaller the space felt. The near-collisions alone nearly drove her mad, she didn’t need chess for that. But when he’s almost past her, his fingertips connect with her skin and trickle down her arm to take her hand. Beth exhales with a smile. His middlegame remains the least predictable stage of his play.

Though she’s made the master bedroom her own, she turns the other way at the top of the stairs, right instead of left, wanting to show him where she studied and learned. He lets himself be pushed back onto her flowered bedspread. She indicates the torn mesh canopy overhead as she staggers forward on her knees to sit astride him and he hikes the black dress up her thighs. As he reaches for her back and unzips her—Beth tilting accommodatingly towards his chest—she talks ceiling visualization. How she found it, how she mastered it, how she got it back in Moscow. She waits for Benny to parrot her annoyance over discussing chess at a time like this, but he wears an empathetic smirk. Following leisurely minutes of undressing each other—“Slow down, Harmon, this isn’t speed chess”—that smirk is just about all he wears.

His necklaces glide across her chest as he kisses her neck. When he slips his hand between her legs, she invokes touch-move, insisting he finish what he’s started. Play progresses from there. This is all mine, she thinks, feeling Benny, denting a pink pillowcase with her clutching hands.

They’ve written her up as someone who attacks early and with ferocity. She lunges and thrusts, she likes control. ‘Out for blood,’ ‘killer instinct’—they make her something more than human. In her time, she’s been a talent, a prodigy, a virtuoso, a wunderkind. All of that’s become a bit mechanical. Have they forgotten, or have they never understood? Beth swipes her fingers through Benny’s hair as they catch their breath.

Chess can also be beautiful.

#my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny #I haven't jumped fandoms in almost a year so it was about time

[droplet-dread-cat]

Okay, so... idk why that came to my mind but I’ll roll with it.

Also there are surely some discrepancies in timelines and such but it’s an AU and I don’t really look for accuracy here

WifeSwap!AU 

- The chief of the Southern Water Tribe is like “Oh shit, we have only like seven benders left. We can’t afford another attack of the Fire Nation” and he meets up with Fire Lord Azulon to propose a peace treaty. Only Azulon’s an asshat and he’s like “Peace and no further attacks on you? Well, you can have that, no problem, but for that we’ll need tokens. You can still have your benders but we will trade nonbending people between our two cultures... sort of a slave trade deal. You can do whatever you want with the people we send you and we can do whatever we want with those you send us. Oh! And of course, the Southern Water Tribe will raise our flag additionally to yours and, before I forget it, you’re obligated to send us Water Tribe specialities as our nobility finds them quite... interesting.”

And the chief is overwhelmed and can’t quite understand why the slave trade thing has to happen (it’s because Azulon’s eager to see if he can manipulate the genetics into his favours so that they’ll end up building a waterbending force additionally to a firebending one (which they can use as healers if they have that gift), firebenders born into the Southern Water Tribe also are sort of lifetime test subjects who show whether they can remain in such conditions or not (also if they can be trained to withstand the cold and become better benders that way) and most of his war council consists of those creepy old men who are weirdly obsessed with “exotic” features) but he has no other choice but to agree because he knows another (last) attack is on the horizon. It’s better to essentially become a Fire Nation colony than to lose all of their benders for good, he thinks.

- Fast forward a couple of years. Azulon has managed to gain forty waterbenders by mostly trading men from the Water Tribe for women from the Fire Nation. As you know men can um... make a lot more children in a short period of time than women. The Southerners aren’t really treated as people and more as concubines while the Fire Nation people in the south are treated as equals (and become enamoured with the culture - because they’ve always known only the strictness of the Fire Nation.) and they bring equality for men and women because now there are more women than men => leads to a fighting force consisting of men and women.

- One day Ozai really pisses off his father. It’s a minor thing, really, but it leads to his fiancé getting shipped off to the Southern Water Tribe and he gets the most fierce nonbending warrior woman of the Water Tribe as his wife instead - Kya. She is straight up able to make him eat dirt and refuses to be treated as a slave. Hakoda gets Ursa - this meek, shy girl who refuses to raise her voice or look him in the eyes. There’s a whole subplot for Hakoda and Ursa slowly getting together while Kya dominates the shit out of Ozai because she wants kids and has no hope of ever returning to Hakoda (her true love). She sort of takes over the Fire Nation after Azulon’s... unfortunate death.

=> Kya and Ozai’s children are Zuko and Katara while Ursa and Hakoda’s are Sokka and Azula (who Ursa names after the man who essentially set her free)

- just. think. of. the. implications. 

- Zuko is allowed to be a soft boi and because Kya all but overtakes the government, there’s never an Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko. Also Ozai’s forced to love his children. Kya won’t take a no.

- Kya loves her two children equally. She doesn’t mind that Zuko’s a firebender. It’s just the way things are.

- When Ozai foolishly asks his father if he can have the throne after Prince Lu Ten’s death and Azulon asks for Zuko to die Kya fucking explodes and stealthily poisons the Fire Lord but with such a slow acting poison that nobody can trace it. => Ozai’s like “DAmn wife, poisoning my dad?? Kinda hot ngl...” 

- So, like, Ozai’s more and more showing his human side because Kya just yeets the throne out of his hand (”No, someone unstable like you is not going to reign a freaking country, what the hell? Gimme those documents, husband.”) and after being manhandled into caring for his kids he has those little moments in which he shows that he can, in fact, love but it’s burrowed under layers upon layers of jealousy, hatred, anger and manipulative demeanour. Kya’s not one to turn down a challenge, though.

=> so. many. trips. to. ember island.

- Katara’s a fierce thing. She loves her brother, feels conflicted on her country and gives like a speech a day to the personnel who cowered under Azulon. Her waterbending is treated as something desirable by Ozai who, in turn, makes sure she gets teachers but he’ll also imitate Iroh (only this once, of course, and he’d never say he saw a merit in an idea his brother of all people had) by also teaching her firebending forms. Katara’s so dangerous but she’s still herself. In this AU, her healing abilities come when Zuko falls from a roof and breaks his leg.

- Ursa and Hakoda take things slowly. Initially, there’s a major heartbreak on Hakoda’s side, of course, because he really loved Kya wholeheartedly but slowly (and I’m talking real slow - like slow burn times 3) he starts warming up to Ursa who doesn’t know how to act in this new society she’s been thrown into. Hakoda shows her how to fight... ugh, that’s so cute I CAN’T and then she someday is gifted a bethrotal necklace but it’s dark red and omg utreghuigheguhenffberfievbhue

- Sokka and Azula are siblings. This is interesting on different levels because for one, Sokka’s a nonbender. Meaning that he only can impress with his boomerang and intelligence while his little sister’s a goddamn firebending prodigy who can?? Shoot lightning??? Wtf???

- Hakoda is Best Dad and instantly sees Azula’s unhealthy desire of perfectionism early on and sends her to the tribe’s psychiatrist. She still has anger outbursts but she is a lot more stable than in canon. Also, she’s obsessed with Sokka learning new fighting styles. She won’t stop arguing about the merits of him learning the sword or him learning the bow or him learning the art of chi blocking or him learning... basically, it’s Azula’s form of care but it annoys Sokka to no end (even though he loves his little sister too, obviously).

- There is not an ounce of sexism in Sokka because... um... have you seen his sister?!

- So, one day, there’s a letter from the Fire Nation. To Hakoda. Saying “Hey, what’s up, my old fiancé? I took over the Fire Nation - how about we meet up some time for a renewed peace treaty and to show off our kids?” And Hakoda’s like “Omg, Kya. What the hell?” but he grins the whole time and is so glad that his almost-wife is thriving. He wouldn’t have thought she’d give in easily but to hear the good news lifts a rock off his heart. Ursa’s a little bit hesitant but Hakoda tells her that she’s his wife now and a meeting between the two couples won’t change that.

- They all meet up when Sokka & Zuko are 14 and Katara & Azula 12-ish; surprisingly, it goes super well? Oh, well... apart from the fact that Katara and Azula begin arguing like crazy when they’re on Southern Water Tribe territory and accidentally free the Avatar.

- So now they have the Avatar.

- But Aang’s kinda not needed all that much because Ozai sure as hell won’t do anything to capture him - not when Kya’s been stopping a war that he slowly begins to see was totally f-ed up

- Aang grows up with Katara, Sokka, Zuko and Azula at his side. They then later on stumble upon a lemur, a Kyoshi warrior and Toph during one of their trips (which they can do only when they’re at least 14 because Kya isn’t going to let her kids roam around when they barely hit puberty yet.)

- Sozin’s Comet comes and goes. Ozai guesses he could have technically taken out the Earth Kingdom but who the hell does that kinda stuff? He’s not a villain in some theatrical play or something.

- The war ends for sure when Ozai finally gives in and signs the peace treaty between the different remaining nations (and Aang as the last airbender). It’s not like everything’s alright now that they’re not attacking but it’s a lot better than before. 

#atla au #atla #avatar #avatar the legend of aang #avatar the last airbender #zuko #sokka #azula #katara #kya #hakoda #chief hakoda #water tribe #fire nation #ozai #atla ozai #fire lord azulon #azulon #fire lord ozai

[papipopsicle]

GHOSTBUSTERS

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary: In which Y/N keeps bumping into various Avengers on missions, sometimes to their benefit and others not so much. As Bucky finally decides to go back into the field, he comes face to face with a ghost from his past life.

Song: Death Valley by Fall Out Boy

Warnings: swearing, general lack of morals

Words: 2.4K

feedback is always appreciated

     "You sure about this, Buck?" Steve asked, willing his reassuring nature onto the stoic man sat next to him. They were eight minutes from the drop sight in south Ecuador and only Gamora was joining them on the mission.

There was no way in hell he planned on backing out now.

James Buchanan Barnes no longer held the mantle of the Winter Soldier, but ever since Shuri, Princess of Wakanda, extracted the programming in his brain, he remembered everything. At first it was like puzzle pieces, fleeting memories and nightmares that he couldn't quite put together. But the last fifty years slowly found its way back. And the twenty before that of torture too.

Every bullet.

Every last breath.

Every tortured soul he killed for Hydra. And the lives he was forced to steal, forced to work along side with.

Wanda found out rather quickly his mind wasn't a happy place to venture into. She cried herself to sleep that night.

It took a long time for Bucky to realise his body was no longer a weapon, and longer to even begin trusting his prosthetic limb off the battlefield.

This was only a minimal risk mission; a group of young inhumans had been wreaking havoc for the past few weeks, Friday had been tracking them and noticed they were meeting a large arms dealer in Amazula tonight. Fairly simple. The enhanced individuals would be handed over to Agent Johnson's task-force while any weaponry will be confiscated by the CIA under Tony Stark's surveillance. All the trio had to do was detain the inhumans. Easy.

"Sure," Bucky responded slowly and shrugged his shoulders, "about time I got off my ass, right?"

"You can wait here if you don't feel up to it." The Zehoberei woman replied while picking at her nailbeds, voice dripping with sarcastic sympathy. Admittedly, she enjoyed the presence of these two no nonsense men, but their friendship made them worry too much and she didn't have the patience for it.

Gamora released the hangar door and without waiting for the super soldiers to respond, she jumped. Steve rushed to the edge and rolled his eyes as she landed perfectly a hundred feet below them. Once the quinjet had actually landed, the three stealthily made it to the warehouse unnoticed.

"Eyes on the kids, all five are headed down the north corridor." Bucky stated plainly over the communication device hidden in his right ear, still unable to comprehend how a pair of goggles allowed him to see through steel walls. He stayed crouched down low in the overhead railings, his large figure hidden with ease from any surveillance equipment.

Only a few seconds could passed before his ears were assaulted by a string of curse words from the alien woman, even more surprised that Steve hadn't reprimanded her for the foul language.

"Gamora?" The Captain questioned, launching out of his position in pursuit of his endangered teammate. When he arrived though, the scene before him made his eyes hurt from rolling them so hard, a simple "Not you again." fumbling from his lips.

Bucky calmed at the annoyed tone, having scrambled out of his hiding space with surprisingly the same amount of stealth. His heart was erratic, thinking it was a code red, but his steps slowed to a jog as soon as he registered they weren't in any kind of peril.

Y/N grinned up at the man in his usual navy stealth suit, watching his irritated expression tauntingly, "You missed me really, Rogers."

She'd arrived after Gamora, finding the kids tied to a post by the green woman with illuminated ropes. The mercenary began undoing their bounds, but was soon interrupted by their capturer and eliminated the threat with great skill.

Y/N stabbed Gamora in her thigh, her copper dagger dripping with blood as she twirled it between her fingertips.

Bucky rounded the corner and entered the open warehouse, finding his friend jogging over to the scene several feet ahead. Steve began assessing Gamora's wound and was quickly shoved off by the warrior, who simply stood and wiped her leg down as if it was dust and not blood.

Bucky stood frozen. It felt all too surreal - the flicker of orange hair, the bright teal suit which was anything but stealthy, and the familiar scarred tissue surrounding her magnificent hazel eyes. She was anything but a ghost, though he felt a soul step through his being.

"Buck? A little help?" Steve pushed, watching his friend move towards the group of teens without taking his eyes off of the annoying mercenary. He'd met her on numerous missions throughout the past couple of years, mostly getting in the way of things and a handful of times even aiding them.

"Buck?" Y/N mocked in the Captains authoritative tone, "What kind of name is that? What's it short for? Buckbert?"

Bucky blinked, forgetting all about the young inhumans, "Buchanan, actually."

"James? What in the fuck are you doing here?!" Y/N recognised his voice instantly, the gravelly pitch unrivalled by anyone else on this planet. She stopped fiddling with the electrified rope and spun on her heel, finding the first Winter Soldier mere meters from where she stood.

The mercenary slid her blade back into its sheath on her hip, sprinting over to her former partner and before anyone knew what was happening, her body enveloped his. Y/N squeezed him so tightly he thought is eyes may just bug out, but with Steve and Gamora's astonished expressions watching him, he returned the embrace. It was familiar, and Bucky didn't know whether that should be a good thing or a bad one.

"I'm sorry, actually I'm not. Care to explain how you know the asshole who just put a hole in my leg?" The Zehoberei woman seethed, checking the detainees were still detained before marching over to the pair.

"Yeah, not that this reunion isn't..." Steve trailed off, motioning towards the two still embracing. Bucky eye rolled his friend, letting the mercenary drop from his body but keeping his arm around her, "whatever it is, but why is it a reunion in the first place? Please don't tell me you two used to-"

"Fuck?" Y/N scoffs at the insinuation, knowing she'd hit the nail on its head when Captain America turned the same colour as his shield, "In his dreams, maybe."

"Y/N used to work for Hydra every now and again." The super soldier intervened, watching her wounded eye twitch from the corner of his vision, "Even when she wasn't, she'd follow my missions and find work in the same countries."

"Until I stepped in one day when his handler was being especially dickish and got myself this as a memento." She signalled to her paled scar with a sad smile, "I'd lost you for a while there, but it's good to have you back, James."

Steve couldn't believe how casual their conversation was, but instead of finding the answers he so desperately wanted, he had a role to play, "Is she going to be an issue?" Is all he could ask.

Y/N frowned at his no nonsense attitude, he usually threw a couple sarcastic remarks for her to bat back before getting on track with his mission. She looked up at Bucky with the same expression, arms crossed and eyes rolling as she begrudgingly shook her head. If it wasn't for her old acquaintance, the mercenary would've figured out a small way to annoy America's golden boy.

"Not this time, at least." The metal armed man reassured his childhood friend, who was getting the group of inhumans ready for the inhibitor pod on the quinjet. Gamora was busy glaring Y/N down, throwing her own blade up into the air a few times before charging at the human woman with no fear.

"What the-" Y/N screamed as the alien's dagger became the only thing her eyes could see, and without any other option, she climbed Bucky like a tree. Her torso hugging his face and her legs wrapped around his neck, "I'm sorry, pretty green lady!"

The super soldier, slightly unsure of what was happening, unarmed his teammate and shook Y/N off his shoulders. She fell to the grass with a small thud, quickly getting to her feet and backing away from the seething warrior.

"Let me stab her, it's only fair!" Gamora demanded, struggling in Bucky's vibranium grip. At this point, Steve had already transported the enhanced teens onto the quinjet and had come back to inspect and take inventory of the weaponry, only to find this scene playing out in front of him.

"I said I'm sorry!" She definitely wasn't, and although she didn't know the green woman, she knew it wouldn't end well if her apathy shone through. While Bucky held her back, Y/N knew this was her chance to dip out. After all, she was only here as a favour for a friend, it certainly wasn't worth getting injured over. But, against all better judgement and knowledge of stabby people, the mercenary decided to stay for a while longer.

"See, she's apologised, she didn't mean it." Bucky reasoned, pleading eyebrows raised at Gamora. His body didn't know whether to go into shock or revert to the way it used to react around Y/N, and got stuck between the two. He remembered so much of her; her squeaky laugh and scrunched nose at her own sardonic jokes, the dark chestnut hair lying under her luminous wig, her soft lips kissing his at the end of a mission. It came rushing back like blood to a sleepy limb.

"Alright, alright." Steve interjected, not wanting to escalate the situation, "Let's not forget why we're here." He eyed the merc specifically.

"Pffft," She batted her hand towards him passively, no longer in imminent danger as the green woman stood with her arms crossed, "you can have this one, Golden Boy. Something else has taken my interest."

Y/N made a mental note to buy Wade something to apologise for not getting the guns and ammunition he wanted. He wouldn't really care, probably moved onto some other enemy already. Steve began closing the crates of various weaponry, not caring for the young merc until he heard her voice ring, "Mind if I hitch a ride with you guys, if you're heading back to New York."

"Sure." Bucky insisted.

"We aren't-." Steve objected, glaring over at his best friend before amending his words, "Fine. Just don't mess with anything."

Gamora found the woman intriguing, so laid back yet clearly on a dark path. If they'd met under different circumstances, she would've welcomed another strong and calculating female into her life suffocated by testosterone. But the Zehoberei warrior's leg still seeped with blood, aching with each step, so she wasn't ready to give in so quickly.

They all made the walk back onto the quinjet fairly quickly, passing by the white pod which inhibited each of their powers without causing them any harm. Y/N had never been on such a technical aircraft before, amazed by all the lights and buttons. But Steve swatted her hand away before she could find out what they did, "Sit down and stay out of trouble."

"So, you been doing okay, James? Back in the real world, I mean." Y/N slumped down on the seat next to Bucky's frame. She unhooked her tactical belt and slid off the bright ginger wig, slinging it on the metal cabinet beside her.

Bucky eyed her up, finding her raised scarred brow oddly endearing, "Not at first, a lots changed since the forties." He nudged her shoulder as a sad look appeared on her face, "I'm alive though, been going to therapy. This is my first field mission, actually."

"Looks like my bad timing's paid off this time, then." Y/N looked up at him sincerely, finding familiar icy eyes staring into her own. He had changed so much, and not at all in the same breath. She'd never seen a smile on his lips before, usually covered by a mask during missions, yet it suited him so beautifully. He'd brushed his shoulder length hair behind his ear, watching his jaw clench and relax.

They chatted back and fourth about the past few years, no boundaries or judgements held in the space between them. Y/N actually did research about a customers background before accepting their offer, targeting her homicidal rage towards sex traffickers whenever she got the chance. She still held no permanent home, currently residing in an abandoned apartment a dozen blocks away. The super soldier offered that she could stay with him if she ever wanted, used to her company and lax attitude.

"Thanks James, I'll keep that in mind." She hopped down from the hangar's opening, marvelling at the acres of land surrounding the Avengers facility. Steve and Gamora had left a while ago, briefing Agent Johnson on the inhumans. So it was just the two of them, a warm wind flowing through their hair. Y/N stepped behind him, tying his hair half up in a pony tail to stop it from getting in his eyes.

"Thanks, Y/N/N." He beamed down at her, "It's been good having you around again, hopefully it doesn't take a bunch of rebel inhumans for us to see each other again."

"It better not." She smirked, a fuzzy feeling sitting in her stomach as her nickname left his lips like a melody, "Now since this little mission was a success on your part, I feel it's only fair we honour our tradition. Especially since it's been your first in a long time."

Bucky didn't even want to waste time responding with words, his cool metal hand finding it's way to her neck pulling her closer. Their eyes both fluttered shut, Y/N pulled herself up onto her tiptoes just as he leant down enough to bridge the gap. Her body shuddered all over as she felt him return the kiss and his free hand grip her waist ever so tightly.

Bucky broke away first, noticing the lust blown look in his little mercenary’s eyes as she blinked innocently up at him. After a beat, she hid her head in his chest, only for him to kiss the top of her head. “Don’t be a stranger, Y/N/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Y/N giggled, pulling away just enough to look up at the tall super soldier, “I can honestly say it would be my pleasure to fuck with Tony Stark and his band of merry men.”

“Invite me on your next job so we can do that again.”

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#fanfic #fanfiction #Bucky barnes #Bucky #Bucky imagine #Bucky fanfic #Bucky fanfiction #Bucky x reader #Bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky barnes x reader #cute #romance #imagine #fluff #marvel #x reader #imagines

[need-a-fugue]

Centennial Man

Summary: Bucky may not want to celebrate his birthday, but you’ll be damned if you let his 100th go by as just another day.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cavity-inducing fluff.

You’re gone when he wakes, that side of the bed cold and empty.

He twists around, fingers idly gripping the crumpled sheets where your body should be, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth as he blinks the room into focus. It’s dim but not dark, a sliver of early morning light spilling in through the crack in the curtains, still drawn – unlike how he leaves them when he gets out of bed in the morning, tearing them open to bathe you in the offending light, forcing you to writhe and moan and finally get up.

But today… you’re already up.

He slowly turns back around, rubbing his stubbled face into the million thread count sheets you insisted on buying a few months back – new sheets for a new home! – before landing his eyes on the bedside clock. His brows pull tightly together, confusion tugging his frown even further. Nine o’clock? He lets out a groan and rolls onto his back, a knowing, “Damnit,” flowing languidly out of him as he rubs at his eyes.

You turned off the alarm. Of course you did. You turned off the alarm to keep him in bed and then you disappeared to go do… something. Even though he told you – repeatedly – to treat this just like any other damn day.

He hears the front door open, the crinkle of a paper sack, a sharp, “Ooop,” in your voice to likely mark a near trip or spill. And he pulls himself up and out of bed.

“What are you doing?” he asks, stepping out into the hallway, tugging a T-shirt over his head, not even bothering to do up the jeans he pulls on. He peers into the kitchen, parking it at the breakfast bar to watch as you merrily pluck item after item out of a large paper bag.

“I went to our corner bakery,” you state, not even turning to look at him, so intent on unpacking the goodies. “I got croissants,” you spin then, just long enough to offer a quick raised brow, “obviously,” and turn back to the counter. “A blueberry muffin. A lemon poppyseed. A bran muffin,” you intone slyly, whipping back around to face him. “Because old men like you need their fiber.”

“Ha, ha,” he spouts, grumpy frown still painted on his face.

You reach behind and grab a single plate from the counter, pluck a paper coffee cup with the other hand, and step over to the breakfast bar. “And,” you announce with a flair, setting the plate down in front of him, “pain au chocolate. Because it’s my baby’s birthday. And he deserves it.” You wiggle your brows playfully, getting met with little more than a dramatic eyeroll from Bucky.

He points to your other hand. “That coffee for me?”

“Of course,” you state, setting it down in front of him before rocking back on your heels, crossing your arms over your chest, and offering an almost chiding glare. “Black. Plain. Boring. Just like you.”

He plucks the plastic top, tosses it to the side. “I told you… I don’t do birthdays.”

“You did my birthday,” you say with a shrug.

“Yeah,” he says after downing a long, hot sip. “You would’ve thrown me out if I hadn’t.”

Your face twists with admonishment. “No,” you intone, narrowing your eyes severely. “You just like being the gift giver, the one who celebrates other people. The hero.”

“Making you dinner for your birthday makes me a hero?” he asks, lips finally quirking into a small, crooked smile, a hint of mirth twinkling in his eyes as you roll yours in annoyance. He plucks a pain au chocolate from the plate, takes a giant bite, devouring almost half the pastry at once. “This is it, right?” comes out of him amid buttery crumbs as he speaks around the food in his mouth. “No party… no nothing, right?”

Another eyeroll, this one so deep it almost hurts. “Really, I should just count my gift to you as talking Tony out of that damn party.”

He swallows thickly, takes another quick sip of coffee to wash down the pastry. “I don’t get it. He hates me. Why would he want to throw me a party anyway? Unless it’s because he hates me… and he knows I’d hate it.”

“First of all,” you mutter spinning back around to grab your own coffee off the counter, “He doesn’t hate you.” You shrug. “He just doesn’t like you. And yeah, you being annoyed by even just the thought of a birthday gathering probably gives him a monstrous hard on.”

“Could do without that image,” he mutters before shoving the rest of the croissant into his mouth.

“But really, that man will take any opportunity to throw a party. Don’t make this all about you.”

“My birthday,” he states simply. “Not about me. Got it.”

You sweep out of the kitchen, rounding the breakfast bar to pull up next to him. “Nat’s covering for you this morning – ”

“You could’ve just said that instead of turning off my alarm,” he interjects, a bit of an edge to his voice.

You give him a get real stare. “You still would’ve gotten up by six… still would’ve gone down to the gym. It’s your birthday, you can sleep in one damn day a year.”

“Mm-hmm,” he mutters, reaching out for the remaining chocolate pastry.

“Anyway,” you intone, swiftly plucking the treat from him and tearing it in half, returning only a portion to his waiting, open hand. “As I was saying… Natasha’s covering for you, so no work today. Steve wants to hang out, so I said I’d send you his way for a bit. But I need you back here by six.”

“Why?” he asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Because it would be rude to keep the mariachi band waiting,” you snipe. “Why do you think? We’re having dinner.”

“I don’t want to go out.”

“Good, ‘cause we’re staying in.”

His eyes widen, brow arching into an utterly incredulous expression. “Don’t take this the wrong way, doll, but I don’t want you to cook either. I might not want to celebrate my birthday, but that doesn’t mean I want to get food poisoning for it.”

“I’m not going to…” You let out a low, annoyed growl. “You’re the worst. Just go… do whatever you want to do for a few hours.”

He reaches out and captures you with his metal arm as you try to scurry off beyond him, back to the bedroom. “What if what I want to do is right here?”

You swat him away, aiming a pointed finger as you take a single, wide step back. “No,” you declare, trying – and failing – to keep your lips from curing into a devilish smile. “Not now. Not yet.”

He turns back to the breakfast bar with a grunt. A scoff. A bitter huff. “I gave you two orgasms before the sun even came up on your birthday.”

“Psht,” you scoff. “I was barely awake. Probably dream faking.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. I rocked your world.”

Your eyes roll back so hard that this time it definitely does physically hurt. “You are such an old man.”

                                                               000

“You should have a little more faith in her,” Steve says with a chuckle as he swipes at his hair in the locker room mirror, pinching a chunk between his fingers and twisting.

Bucky snorts in reply, rolling his eyes at his friend’s – frankly alarming – love affair with 21st century hair products as he does little more than viciously rub a towel through his own just washed hair. A two-hour run. Some light sparring followed by heavy lifting. A long ass shower. And he’s finally ready to face whatever you have cooked up for him. Mostly.

“You’re acting like she’s gonna throw you a surprise party,” the still-preening super soldier says, barking out a quick laugh when Bucky turns on him with a raised, wary brow. “She’s not going to do something we all know you’d hate.”

“I hate celebrating my birthday,” he mutters vaguely as he tosses the towel into a hamper by the door and roughly pulls on a sweatshirt.

“You didn’t used to,” Steve says, finally turning away from the mirror and locking onto Bucky’s eyes with a rather gloomy cast. “Hell, you used to drag me around to every soda shop and dance hall in the city. Kept me out all night just because it was your birthday and you damn well had the right.”

Bucky shifts his eyes away, unable to see such memories – vague, unattainable recollections of his past life, an utterly other life – through the simple, reminiscent lens of his friend. “Yeah, well. That was a long time ago.”

“Alright,” he sighs out, an almost disappointed edge to his voice. “Well, for what it’s worth… happy birthday, Buck.” He whips on a stiff button down – ever the dapper fella – and begins to do it up, keeping the sour-looking man in his periphery. “And just… be nice.” He heads for the door, dropping a hand to Bucky’s shoulder as he goes, giving him a swift jostle as he states, “She’s trying to do something nice for you. Don’t be a jerk about it.”

He does little more than mutter in response – something bleak and unintelligible that comes out like a lazy grunt – and turns to follow him out of the locker room, out of the sprawling gym. Each reluctant step towards the elevator, then down the hall to your newly shared apartment, seems to stutter and slow, his entire body prickling in a heated hesitation.

Why is it so different now? he muses dimly. Why does celebrating feel so… wrong?

Because it shouldn’t be happening, that’s why. Because he never should’ve lived to be 100 to begin with. And the only reason he did is because he was transformed into some sort of ageless monster, designed to kill. To end life. There’s no reason why anyone should be celebrating the beginning of his.

But of course, he’d never say that to you, would never tell you that he was undeserving of kindness or love or even just a birthday dinner. He’d tried that once already, and it ended with him donning a split lip. Tough love, apparently, was a phrase to live by where you came from.

“Ah,” you squeak out, an animated leap accompanying the all too excited utterance as you flash a wide, bright smile the moment he steps through the door. “You’re back! Perfect timing!”

His eyes blow wide as he looks just past you, cocking his head to peer at the fully made table to your left. “What is all this?” he asks with a laugh, sauntering over to the pristine settings and pulling in a long breath through his nose, taking in the strong aroma of… “Steak?”

You nod. “But don’t worry. I didn’t make it. I promise.”

Another laugh, and the accompanying smile lingers easily on his face, strain lifting from his shoulders as he watches you slip over to the counter to pour a couple fingers of what looks to be damn fine whiskey into a crystal tumbler.

“Sit,” you demand, dangling the glass dangerously between thumb and forefinger, waving it slowly back and forth in front of his face.

He does as requested, dropping into the chair, and reaching up for the glass only to have you flop heavily into his lap instead. A surprised oof blows out of him, followed by an amused, “Hey,” as you settle in and take a single, slow sip. Your eyes close, the softest hum of pleasure slipping from your lips as he slides the whiskey from your hand. “Good?” he asks before taking a long pull himself. “Mm, yeah,” he mutters, swiping his tongue languidly over his lips. “That is good.”

You nod and lean over to hack away at the giant, bloody steak on the table. “This,” you say with a flourish as you spear a bite with the fork and bring it up to Bucky’s mouth, “is from Donovan’s. One of Tony’s favorite places.” You wait until he accepts the bite, his lips still curling into a sly grin, before you raise a brow and further explain, “He claims it’ll melt in your mouth.”

Bucky chews slowly, relishing the perfectly rare-cooked meat before swallowing it down and offering a pleased nod. You dive back in and steal a bite for yourself, agreeing with Tony’s assessment wholeheartedly as you leisurely chew before moving your fork over to pick at the massive baked potato. Bucky lets out an airy chuckle in your ear, leaning forward to drop a swift, whiskey-laden kiss at your temple. “Is this my birthday dinner or yours?” he asks as he slowly lifts the hem of your shirt and sneaks his cool metal digits beneath.

You jolt in his lap as he splays his icy palm over your ribs and lets out another light laugh. “Fine. Fine,” you mutter, feigning annoyance as you rise and hand over the fork. “I’ll just sit over here… all alone.” You lower yourself into the chair across from him, bottom lip pulling into an overdone pout, all in the hopes of getting even just one more precious, sunny laugh out of him.

It works too. One laugh, one smile, each bleeding easily into the next as you sit across from your 100-year-old counterpart. Your – sometimes better, sometimes worse – other half.

The two of you slip easily into the moment, enjoying a calm and leisurely – and delicious – dinner together. The few words that fall from either of your lips – all too often busy with the succulent steak, dripping-with-butter potato, oddly amazing brussels sprouts – are truly unneeded, talking feeling wholly underrated when you can simply bask in the presence of one another. And play a dangerously distracting game of footsie beneath the table.

Once the meal is over, both plates practically licked clean, you jump up to clear the dishes, eager to get at them before he tries to take over. You drop everything into the sink with a clank and a thud – wince when you hear him hiss out a disgruntled, “Easy, baby.” – and pour him another drink before turning to slowly back out of the kitchen, holding the whiskey up like a carrot as you beckon him into the other room.

“Where are we going?” he asks, wily expression on his face, his hands dropping down to your hips as he backs you into the hall.

He begins to turn, not-so-subtly angling towards the bedroom. But you shuffle your feet to a halt. “Uh, uh,” you intone with a shake of the head. “You still have to open your present.”

His fingers trail up your sides, even as his head drops, lips lowering to your exposed collarbone where he sucks a small, sweet, red blossom into your skin. “Yeah,” he mutters into you, flesh hand ducking beneath your shirt, pressing a hot palm to the small of your back. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“No,” you laugh out, stepping out of his loose grip and giving him a small shove. You tug his hand out from beneath your shirt, wrap his fingers around the whiskey glass, and saunter off to the other side of the room to dig out a small, wrapped package. “I just ate a potato that weighed like four pounds,” you say as you slump heavily onto the couch, neatly wrapped gift in hand. “I need some time before… that.”

He rolls his eyes, takes a long sip of sweet, brown liquor, and sets the tumbler down on the side table before sitting beside you. “Okay,” he mutters vaguely, that unsure look returning to his face. “How much time do you need to digest?”

You laugh, the bright and tinkling sound swiftly bringing back his delicate, crooked smile. “Shame we can’t all have a super soldier’s metabolism, huh?”

He cocks his head playfully. “Am I not being patient enough? I thought I was being very patient.”

You let out a rather indignant snort and toss the gift haphazardly into his lap. “Yeah, sure. Patient. Also grateful. And kind…”

He leans forward then, curling into the bend of your neck and peppering your skin with swift kisses. “I am grateful, baby,” he murmurs into you. “Always grateful for you.”

Your hand slinks up into his hair, fingertips dancing lightly along his scalp. “Well… as for the patience part… we still have cake to get to too.”

“Thought you were full,” he whispers softly, his lips, tongue, now tracing the line of your jaw.

“But it’s your favorite,” you state, craning your head to give him better access.

“You’re my favorite,” he mutters into you. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Well,” you intone thickly, pulling away just a bit, knowing full well that if you don’t manage to duck out of this now, you certainly won’t be able to later. “That is good to hear. But I have it on good authority that devil’s food cake is your favorite.”

“Really?” he asks, voice sounding utterly disinterested as he tugs you closer.

You nod. “Steve gave me your mom’s recipe.”

His lips still on your neck, body stiffening beside you. He pulls away with a start, confused look on his face. “My mom’s recipe?” You nod again, raising a questioning brow. “You made… my mom’s cake? For me?”

Your hand slowly slides down to cup his cheek, eyes shining brightly as you say simply, “Sure did, baby.”

He looks almost… lost. For a long moment, he does nothing but stare at you, seemingly assessing everything about you. His hand rises to your face, fingertips brushing lightly along your cheek, thumb dropping low to gently press into the center of your bottom lip. “You’re amazing. You know that?”

“I do,” you say, tone straight and serious, teasing quality playing only in your sparkling eyes. You give him a wide smile and a little shove, gaze dropping down to the package in his lap. “Now, open your present.”

That crooked smile returns, not quite a smirk, certainly not a leer. You’ve come to know it as one of his most sincere expressions, even if it isn’t quite as bright and broad as that ever-elusive beam that only occasionally breaks across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. It sets off butterflies in your stomach just the same. Because both of those smiles are seemingly only ever directed at you.

He looks down at the gift with a sigh and gingerly tears into the wrapping, pulling it apart to reveal deep brown leather, thick and supple. He slides his fingers delicately over it, over the flat, soft surface, before pulling it out of the wrapping entirely and flipping it over in his hands.

“It’s a new journal,” you mutter, tone suddenly peppered with apprehension. He looks up, expression unreadable, and you give a short shrug. “You only ever write in those notebooks and… important things… like your memories? Those should have a nicer place to live.”

His eyes lighten to a luminous, icy blue as he continues to stare over at you, into you. “That’s really nice, baby,” he says softly. “I love it.” His gaze drops back down to the book in his hand, brow furrowing as he traces a finger over the sharp, ridged pattern running along the edges of the cover. “What’s this?”

“Oh,” you start, a hint of hesitation working into your tone. “Yeah. That.” You reach over and pick up the journal, flip it over to show him that the same etching stretches along the back as well. “It’s my heartbeat.”

His eyes fly up to meet yours, a quick chortle pulling from his chest. “What?” he barks out, glancing back at the design and noting now that, yes, it does appear to resemble an EKG readout.

“Yeah, I had someone in medical record it for me. And then I sent it off to some… leather smith or whatever they’re called to emboss it… or… whatever.” You shake your head dismissively. “Anyway, it’s 101 beats of my heart. One for every year you’ve been alive. Plus one to grow on.”

“You…” He sputters for a moment, still staring down at the journal, staring down at the very rhythm of your heart sitting in his hands. And then his face splits wide, that big, bright beam you’d been waiting for – hoping for – taking over as he raises his head and locks onto your eyes. “You crazy girl,” he laughs out, shaking his head fondly.

“Crazy?” you bleat out, only barely able to maintain the faux vexation. “I just gave you my heart… almost literally!”

“Still figuratively,” he states with a raised brow. “But I damn sure love it even more now.”

“Well, good,” you breathe out, reaching over and tugging back the cover. “Then hopefully you’ll forgive the fact that I took the liberty of filling in the first entry for you. Go on,” you prod as soon as you see his eyes drop to take in your sloppily scrawled words. “Read it.”

He settles back into the couch with a grin, holding the journal open with one hand as he clears his throat dramatically and begins. “Dear diary,” he reads aloud, choking suddenly on a laugh as he shakes his head lazily back and forth. “You think that’s how I start a journal entry?”

You shrug. “I don’t make it a habit of reading other people’s diaries, so I really wouldn’t know.”

“It’s a journal,” he corrects, both brows cocked high as he leans back to peer down at you.

You merely roll your eyes in response, tapping the open book impatiently in a swift and silent order for him to continue.

He returns to the page, corner of his mouth quirking into a crooked grin as you press yourself into his side, laying your head atop his shoulder. “Today is my 100th birthday,” he goes on coolly. “My wonderful, brilliant, patient, funny, charismatic, beautiful, delightful, best damn girl,” he breathes out with a snicker, “treated me to breakfast in bed.”

“You were supposed to still be in bed,” you gripe from his side.

He goes on, gentle amusement and utter adoration blooming in his gut, as he reads aloud, “She’s really the best.”

You snake even closer, wrapping your arms around his bicep and singing out, “It’s true.”

He gives a slight nod and returns to the entry. “She ordered steak from the best place in town. Diary, you do not want to know how much that cow cost.” His head cocks towards you, single brow raising in an almost admonishing way. Again, you shrug and tick your eyes back to the page, encouraging him to go on. He does so, uttering, “Then she gave me her heart,” with a gentle fondness.

“I really am a peach,” you mutter, turning your face just a bit and pressing a lingering kiss onto his shoulder.

“You are, baby,” he agrees, dropping his lips to your hair for a moment before returning to finish the entry. He clears his throat again and continues with, “It was simply the best birthday I’ve had in all my hundred years. And the best part of all was the homemade cake, which my girl made with equal parts chocolate and love.” Another snicker escapes him, though it chokes and sputters in his throat as he reads the next sentence, uttering slowly, “and then wore like a nighty so I could lick icing off her thighs all night long.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #marvel fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #avengers fanfiction #bucky x oc #Bucky Barnes

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 14

Prompt: “I didn’t mean it”

Part 2 of Hell in Hoth

Read Part 1 here

Read on AO3

The Ground is My Halt

The Force feels wrong. Obi-Wan wrong. Without explaining himself, Anakin breaks out into a run and Rex reacts instantly. The mouth of the tunnel is just ahead, and as they run the figure of Obi-Wan comes into view. His saber is drawn, arms pulled back in the classic opening position of Ataru, which is the first clue that something is wrong.

The second is their old training bond tightening with such force it nearly makes Anakin trip over himself. Master? He says through the bond, and Anakin's chest tightens.

"Obi-Wan?" he yells, trying to get his attention, but his former master's eyes just widen, and his arms go limp. His lightsaber clatters to the ground, and Obi-Wan follows soon after, his lips moving but nothing that Anakin can make out. "Obi-Wan!"

He grabs Obi-Wan by the shoulders and turns him over so he's lying on his back. "I'm fine," Obi-Wan gasps, his pupils blown and glassy. "I'm okay."

Anakin looks up as Cody comes running. "What happened?"

"I was gonna ask you the same thing!" Anakin gripes. Obi-Wan's chest is rising and falling shallowly, wheezing with every breath. "It sounds like his lung collapsed." Anakin slips his hand from behind Obi-Wan's back to get a better grip but the dark red that now stains his glove catches him off-guard.

"Turn him," Rex says, also seeing the blood. They carefully flip a half-unconscious Obi-Wan onto his side, and Anakin draws in a breath at the sight of a quickly spreading stain of blood soaking through his parka. He curses under his breath, grabbing his saber and cutting through the material of the coat. What it reveals makes a new rush of anger slip through.

Pieces of fabric-- pieces of his tunic, it appears, though they are bright red instead of beige now-- hang sloppily off a wound in the center of the right side of his back.

"Why didn't you know about this?" Anakin asks Cody, not bothering to filter his annoyance. It's not the commander he's mad at-- it's his dumbass master who definitely tried to hide this without telling his companion.

"I don't... I don't know, sir," Cody says, muted. Anakin immediately regrets his tone, but he has no time to deal with that. From the blue tinge of his lips, Obi-Wan may not have time.

"We need to get him back to the ship!" He grabs Rex's busted commlink and pulls his own off his wrist. It was also broken in their fall, but Anakin assumes there are enough parts between the four of them to do a quick fix. It takes him only a few minutes to rewire the comlink, using the intact speaker of his and the localizer of Rex's. He hands it back to Rex. "Call for evac."

__________

It doesn't take long for the med unit to reach them in the ice lab. Cody stands out of the way, watching a Kix and Helix carefully load General Kenobi onto a stretcher and strap an oxygen mask across his pale face. Skywalker is pacing, and Rex is running alongside Kix, probably explaining the situation.

That should be me giving the brief, Cody muses, following behind them. I was with him.

Skywalker's harsh tone hit Cody harder than he expected it to. Usually, he is immune to the curt words of the temperamental Jedi, but the intensity he looked at him is what seems to be weighing on him. The slanted stare that is usually directed at their enemies suddenly aimed at him.

He's scared, Cody reminds himself. It's quite obvious that the Jedi aren't always good at practicing what they preach, and the Hero-Without-Fear or whatever the holonet likes to call Skywalker have obviously never met the kid. When it comes to Kenobi or Tano, there is only fear. Understandably so. Even Cody was thrust into a panic when he saw his general crumble. He didn't know if there were enemies hiding somewhere and managed to snipe him, or if the lab had been rigged. But now, the wound was already scantily dressed, and now Cody just keeps racking his brain as to what could have happened.

Why didn't you know about this?

They were falling. The ship became unbalanced and they fell from what felt like one end to the other. Cody knows Kenobi managed to use the Force to cushion his fall, but maybe... maybe he didn't use it for himself?

It sounds preposterous, but a part of him isn't surprised. General Kenobi is well known for having more regard for others than himself. Even when it comes to the clones. No matter how dispensable they are by principle, he never cared. It's why he's so respected, so fiercely beheld by his men.

Cody wonders how they would react if he didn't come back. They're in the evac ship, crowded around the stretcher while Kix and Helix try their best to stuff sterile bandages into the wound. Skywalker stands in the corner, arms crossed and face hardened, but his eyes are unfocused. He is somewhere else entirely right now. Rex puts a hand on Cody's shoulder but says nothing. Cody prefers it that way. If General Kenobi doesn't come back, it would be his fault. He knows that.

Everything happens in a blur. They get back on the ship and General Kenobi is whisked away before the gunship even has a chance to fully land. The urgency of their actions doesn't escape Cody. He watches them solemnly as they disappear in the direction of the medbay.

Focus, he shakes away the thoughts of Kenobi on the operating table. The mission. The lab. A science lab in the middle of Hoth is not something they see every day, and he suspects it can't be for a good reason. The blood was proof enough of that.

Distracting himself will do him some good, The least he can do is his duty. He heads to the bridge to deliver the scan of the lab to report to the Jedi council.

"Commander," a voice rings out hesitantly. Cody stops and turns to see General Skywalker standing a few meters away. He salutes.

"General, what can I do for you?"

Skywalker walks up to him, his eyes seeming to attempt to gauge his emotions, but buckets don't show emotions and Cody is thankful for that.

"What did you find in that tunnel? What was all that?" His tone is more sedate now. More normal but still obviously filled with worry.

"A lab, I believe sir. I'm about to take our findings up for briefing if you would like to join me."

Skywalker nods, and they start walking to the bridge. Cody can feel the strange tension around them-- he doesn't have to be Force-sensitive to pick up on that fact. Maybe Skywalker is still cross with him. Blames him for what happened. Cody looks down at his comm, expecting a blinking light containing an update on Kenobi's condition. His commlink remains stagnant.

"I uh," the general says, quietly at first. "I'm sorry, Cody. I was worried about Obi-Wan and... I didn't mean it."

An apology is not what he expected. Cody looks at him, not exactly sure what to say here. "No apologies, sir, I should have been more vigilant."

Skywalker scoffs. "Now you sound like him. Really, though. It wasn't your fault. He's pulled that stunt on me more than once. I don't know where he got so good at hiding stuff like this."

"I hear it's the secret to becoming a master," Cody says without really thinking about who he is talking to. It's a joke he has with the med crew because of the Jedi's propensity for recklessness-- and now he's just said it to Skywalker. I've been spending too much time around General Kenobi... Cody stiffens, looking at the Jedi Knight expecting a new reason for anger, but instead, he's smiling.

"Didn't realize you had jokes, Commander," he laughs.

"Senses of humor are part of our programming, sir."

It's a pleasant diversion as they reach the bridge. The Jedi council is already on the holo, and Cody's moment of relief is renewed by the many pairs of eyes that now watch him and Skywalker carefully. Cody sets the holoscan into the projector and begins his impromptu presentation of their findings.

__________

When Obi-Wan awakes, there is a tube in his chest and a mask over his face. His body is sore and still feels like it's defrosting. He reaches up to take off the mask, but his goal is stopped by the hand of his former padawan obstructing his pathing.

"Not yet," he says, and Obi-Wan begrudgingly lets his hand fall back to his side. "You are on O2 therapy for another ten minutes."

"What happened?" he asks, his words muffled significantly by the oxygen mask but Anakin seems to pick it up well enough.

"Oh I don't know, why don't you tell me? And while we're at it, we can discuss your field-medic abilities because honestly, Obi-Wan, they're horrendous." Anakin sighs, his emotion deflating. "You had a puncture wound that shattered one of your ribs. It was fine until you irritated it and a piece of your rib punctured your lung and caused some internal bleeding."

"Oh," is all he can say in response. That all sounds about right.

"That's not all," Anakin says. "The lab. We tested the blood on the floor and..." he lets out a deep breath. "It had a midi-chlorian count, Master."

Now Obi-Wan is determined. He reaches up, ignoring Anakin's pleas to leave the mask alone. He needs him to hear this clearly. "We must find Jenna Zan Arbor."

Anakin winces at the name. Rightfully so, she captured and poisoned him with a horrible drug that basically entrapped him within his own mind.

"How do you know?"

He slips the mask down to his chin. There's no point now. "I don't know if it's her or a copycat, but she's done this before," he swallows hard. "On Qui-Gon. Bloodlet him so he would have to use the Force to preserve himself."

Anakin takes a deep, labored breath at that information, sitting back in the chair beside Obi-Wan's bed. His gaze is far away, no doubt in the remembrance of his experience under her spell. Zan Arbor tends to have that effect on them-- suddenly they are padawans once again, trying hard to defeat an enemy that is not so easily beat with the blade of a lightsaber. The worst part of the delusional scientist is that she is cunning. She escaped the prison Obi-Wan helped put her in and has proceeded to evade them ever since.

Obi-Wan puts the mask over his mouth and nose once again, taking a moment to replenish himself.

"So we find her?"

"Yes, I believe that is our next step."

Though neither of them says it, they both know the thoughts of the other: this is not going to be an easy reunion.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday14 #i didn't mean it #part 3 coming out tonight or tomorrow! #depending on how productive i am #Obi-Wan Kenobi #cody #anakin skywalker #rex #jenna zan arbor

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Jon Snow x reader

Pairing: Jon Snow x young reader (platonic)

Summary: reader is a captured wilding and is forced to be Jon's steward. Shes tough and stubborn but one day something happens and her feelings for the crow begin to change.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, attempted assault, mentions of rape. Mentions of blood.

***************************************************

A/n Hello my loves! Just a quick note about this story. Reader is a young teenager, also her relationship with Jon is non romantic. Hes protective of her like a brother. I hope you like it!

***************************************************

"Whats your name girl?" you wanted to roll your eyes but refrained as the new commander of the nights watch, barely a man in your opinion tried to be intimidating in a room full of equally unintimatading men.

As dumb as they looked they still outnumbered you like 100 to 1. So you begrudgingly decided to answer.

"Y/n"

The lord commander, or more commonly known as Jon snow the bastard of winterfell, nodded once, satisfied that he finally gotten a word out of you.

"Well y/n, seeing as your people are gone-"

"Dead you mean" you couldn't help but bite out. "You crows saw to that"

Those damn crows had raided your village and slaughtered everyone save yourself.

"You're lucky we didn't gut you along with the rest of those filthy wildlings" one man spat out stepping forward but was halted by the commander, "Enough!"

"We had no choice, they trespassed and started to cause trouble-"

"Trespassed?! That land has been ours for generations, and just because some rich folk came and decided to put up a wall and cast us out, we're the criminals?!" You felt your anger rise again. "We didnt do anything wrong! We were just trying to survive like everyone else in this stupid godsforsaken world!"

The lord commander sighed with fustration, he tried to have patience, after all she was more or less a child. Well a child with the mouth of a 40 year old sailor.

"I'm sorry y/n, but there are rules, and they broke those rules"

"Rules?" You scoffed, "And who decided on those rules hmm? Certainly not the people who lived here, so tell me Snow, why the hell should any of us listen to rules that were forced on us?! In our eyes you are the enemy. We were just people, trying to not starve and freeze to fucking death and you slaughter us like animals!" You felt the burn behind your eyes as you remembered the screams and smell of blood. But you would die before you cried in front of these heartless butchers.

"I'm sorry that you had to witness it, but you have a choice to make now" he looked into your eyes with seriousness. "You can either be sent back beyond the wall or..." he paused hesitantly, "you can serve as a steward here"

You almost laughed, "Are you drunk Snow?!? Or do you actually think those are fair options?"

"Considering I'm already bending the rules by letting you live, yes I do" he said firmly.

You let out a humorless laugh, "So you think throwing me into the wilderness alone is fair? Or I suppose making me a slave to the nights watch is somehow better?" You glared at the men around you. Half of them fithly pigs who would no doubt use you whenever they got the chance.

"No harm would come to you if you stayed, of this you have my word. And you wouldn't be a slave. You'd be my steward."

But I wouldnt be allowed to leave, so a slave... but it's either that or what's beyond the wall.. I wouldn't last a day alone... after a while of silently debating I looked up into the killer's eyes, and sealed my fate with a nod.

************************************

The first week was hell. All you wanted to do was murder every crow you saw.

If you had poison you would've wasted no time spilling it in the stew you had to carry to commander stupids room every evening.

He acted like he cared, asked about if you had enough to eat and if anyone had been bothering you. But you ignored him. He was just trying to get you to trust him, and then he would turn on you. It was all a sick game, you were sure of it.

Another few weeks passed in a similar manner, he gave up on trying to make conversation which you were ever thankful for.

Not having anyone to talk to was the worst part. Your days were horribly dull. You cleaned, did laundry, prepped meals and repeat. Other than glares no one had messed with you which you were kinda disappointed in to be honest. You would take any excuse to blacken and bruise those ugly mugs of theirs...

Apparently the gods had a sense of humor because the next day you found yourself cornered by two of them.

"You should be on your knees thanking us girl" one of them sneered.

"We coulda left you for dead with those other savages but we didnt. And all you've been is given attitude."

"It ain't right"

"No it ain't" they agreed.

While they yapped you were mentally figuring out how you were gonna fight your way out of this one. Three against one wasnt exactly fair, and it's not like snow let you carry around your weapons. And the fact that you were far away, gathering firewood when they cornered you wasn't ideal.

Ugly man number one tsked when he saw your wandering eyes, "no use screamin girl, no ones gonna hear you"

"What the fuck do you want, the sooner you tell me, the sooner I dont have to look at your ugly faces" you couldn't help but want to anger them.

The bald one shoved your shoulder against the wall, on instinct you swooped your arm over his and brought it down, severing the hold and then you kneed him in the groin...hard.

"You bitch!" He faltered and you took that opportunity to try and get away. Ugly number 2 grabbed the cloth of your shirt and pulled back but you quickly shoved an elbow hard into his face.

While you were distracted, the third man, let's call him horse face, pulled your hair harshly until you were tumbling to the ground with a grunt.

It didnt take long for the other 2 to recover and help horse face pin you down. P

A deep rooted panic spread across your body. "Get the fuck off me!" You tried to hide the fear in your voice as you thrashed.

"Shut up wilding whore!" You heard the sharp smack before you felt the pain blossom against your cheek.

"You got the mouth of a slut, now let's see if you've got the body of one" your eyes widened and you felt a rough hand slide under your tunic.

"S-stop it! I swear I'll kill-" he shut you up with another sharp slap. You could now taste copper in your mouth.

"I swear to God if you say one more word I'll cut out that sharp tongue of yours" he pulled his knife out of its sheath and pressed the cold metal against your cheek. You winced as he pressed in and you knew he had broken skin.

You tried to be strong but you were terrified. These men were going to rape you and you didnt have the strength like you thought you did to stop them.

You closed your eyes praying to whatever gods were out there that this would not happen. But the gods were cruel. They had allowed the crows to wipe out the only people you had to call family. No they weren't yours by blood, but they had taken you in and cared for you. Taught you how to hunt, how to fight, and now this is how your life was going to end.

"That's a good girl" he took your silence as compliance and started to kiss down your neck.

You shivered in disgust and fear, one hand placed firmly on your neck keeping you in place and the other was exploring beneath your shirt.

You didnt want to give up, you wanted to fight. You didnt want to be raped and killed. How would you ever face your family in the after life if you didnt put up a decent fight. Taking a deep breathe , with the risk of losing your tongue looming in your mind, you clenched your fists and let out your last shred of hope,

"GHOOOOOST" you hoped the wolf you had come to befriend could hear through the walls.

"WHAT DID I FUCKING TELL YOU" he clamped a crushing hand over your mouth.

"W-we should g-go, what if that mutt heard?" Horse face looked around nervously.

"Shut up Pud, no way that he can hear all the way in here"

"But-"

"Oh for god sakes, hold her down and be quiet!" He motioned for horse face to clamp my mouth shut instead whilst he began unbuckling his trousers.

"Before I cut that pretty tongue of yours, I'm gonna see how it feels around my c-AHH FUCK" a giant streak of white crossed your vision.

"HELP YOU IDIOTS, DONT JUST STAND THERE, FUCK!" You heard growling and tearing sounds.

The mens hold on you immediately loosened and you took that chance to sit up and see what the hell was going on. And when you saw the familiar white fur and black eyes you almost cried in relief.

Ghost had launched himself at your assailant and was currently biting away at his arm. The other two turned tail quick and made for the door, thinking they could escape, but what they did not expect was a very angry lord commander blocking their way.

"Ghost" he called back his wolf who growled at the men before walking back and standing beside his master.

You couldn't tell whose eyes were more threatening, the wolf, or the bastard wolf..

Before you knew what was happening several crows flooded the room and arrested the bleeding man and his friends.

The commanders attention was now on you. You rolled onto you knees and tried to stand up but found that someone had traded your legs for jelly cakes.

"Y/n" you immediately looked down, not wanting him to see how afraid you were.

You were surprised at how soft the commanders voice was now compared to two seconds ago when he ordered they be taken to the prisons. "Are you alright?" He knelt down in front of you and reached a hand out to your face.

You flinched and he hesitantly pulled back, "Its alright now, your safe, please... let me help you" he said almost pleading.

You don't know what came over you but something was telling you that it was ok to trust him so you nodded.

This time when he reached a hand to lift your face up you didnt pull away.

You met his eyes and found anger and regret in them, "I'm sorry"

You were instantly confused, "For what?" You questioned as he continued to inspect your injuries.

"I said that no harm would come to you, I shouldve kept a closer eye on you" he apologized with a look of deep regret.

You didnt know what to say. Why was he being so nice to you?! It didnt make any sense, weren't the crows supposed to be the bad ones? But he saved you...well ghost did lead them to you so you really should be thanking him but...

You didnt really know how to respond so you just stayed quiet. He moved to help you up, gentle hands supporting you. When it was clear you couldn't stand on your own he asked if you would let him help you to maester aemon.

Reluctantly you nodded and was surprised when he swooped down and gently lifted you up like those dumb princesses you heard about in fairy tales.

You thought he was just gonna help you walk with a slung over arm or something.... if you weren't so exausted you probably would've been way more embarrassed.

Wordlessly he carried you through the halls and into Maester Aemons infirmary. He set you down on the bed with care and said he would be back to check on you later. The maester was already by your side examining your injuries.

You dont know what came over you, but before you knew what was happening your mouth opened and halted the lord commander through the door.

"Thank you snow..." you were glad he was facing the door, you were sure your face was bright red.

But if he had been facing you, you would've seen his smile.

Maybe not all the crows were so bad after all...

********

Ok soo it was kind of short I know, but my idea was for this to be a sort of prologue to a mini series of Jon and the reader. Please let me know if that's something you guys would want! Thanks for reading🥰

#jon snow #jon #x reader #oneshot #reader #self insert #jon snow x reader #game of thrones #imagine #child reader #child #rape #injured #injury #blood #sister #sibling #sassy #y/n #jon snow x child #jon snow x child reader #jon snow x young reader #fluff #cute #angst #jon snow imagine #jon snow oneshot #game of thrones imagine #jon snow fic #jon snow x you

[exquisitley-obsessed]

I’m (right) here

This is technically a part two: you can read part one HERE

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: Arthur lost sight of y/n on a hunting trip and it turns out the Pinkertons have hold of her and are doing everything they can to beat information about Dutch out of her. Arthur’s only goal is to get her back but he’s beginning to realise that if he does, nothing will be the same.

Word Count: 5568

Pairings: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Torture, murder, bruises, scars, cuts!!

A/N: Currently playing RDR2 so please no spoilers <3 Literally took five minutes for me to fall in love with this damn fool and so felt like I needed to write something angsty for him. 

REQUESTS OPEN <3

MASTERLIST

That had to be a broken rib.

Y/n gasped as she tried to roll away from the steel capped boot that had just gutted her; the chubby, squat old man at the other end of the boot was the more aggressive of her two captures - Steven was his name, or something like that. 

It was his plump, well-rounded face that she had woken up to sometime ago, sneering down at her with this sickening gleeful look. It was understandable, by his terms he had struck gold by capturing y/n l/n, proud member of the Van Der Linde gang.

“You still don’t want to talk?” He husked out, hands on his portly hips. Y/n simply spat in response, a mixture of saliva and blood. Days had passed. Weeks maybe, it was difficult to tell when stuffed in a cage in a windowless room.

They came and they went, her captures. Steven and Tony were their names, or at least, that’s what they called each other. So far all they had revealed was that they were Pinkertons, and desperate for information on Dutch Van Der Linde. The beatings were consistent, another day without information, another beating – more painful than the last.

But y/n already knew that nothing could break her vow of silence. She had been dragged into this cage loyal to Dutch and she sure as hell would find a way out of it still being loyal – they’d have to kill her otherwise. It appeared that would be the direction of things anyway.

They were getting tiresome, annoyed, frustrated. Constantly checking their watches and disappearing for long lengths of time, leaving her aching and alone on the concrete floor watching the free flies mock her as they crawled the walls before flying away. It was easiest when she was asleep, it didn’t hurt so much then, like small shelter in a hurricane.

They’re coming. She had rhythmically repeated the mantra to herself a thousand times by now, a prayer. Dutch and Arthur, those she who she was currently dying to protect – they would come. They had to.

 ***

“We’ll find her Arthur.” Dutch said for what felt like the thousandth time. Arthur was sitting glumly inside his camp, ignoring his company as his eyes bore into his map, spotted with pins and small notes.

“I know.” He huffed back without much thought, his mind somewhere else. It felt like so much time had already been wasted, and Arthur has resorted to spending every waking moment tracking y/n, at least it kept his mind occupied.

Pinkertons weren’t necessarily nasty men, he’d sure as hell met worse, but they were by no means men to be trusted. Honour among thieves didn’t apply to them.

Sighing heavily his eyes drifted from the map above his bed to his collection of photos pinned nearby; him, Hosea and Dutch, his mother, an old newspaper clipping and the most recent edition was the printed photo of y/n that he had taken on a hunting trip.

He put it up there after getting it printed, a few days after her disappearance. Somewhere in his mind he validated the action through it only being a reminder of his task. 

He liked the photo. She looked the same as ever, same braid, same work pants, John’s old shirt – her eyes were crinkled slightly as she smiled at the camera her jaw slack as if she were about to start laughing. Actually, she wasn’t looking at the camera, she was looking behind it – at Arthur.

It was strange to see the way someone looked at you, those moments which you normally don’t get to see at all, and yet he had it captured in time and hanging above his bed. Something about this whole situation had awoken something he thought he had buried a long time ago, but that’s always the way with old feelings, they don’t really go away you just start convincing yourself that they’re not there anymore as you suddenly become busy with someone else. But now he had no distraction, and with all this time, this torturous time without her – he was remembering.

“God’s sake,” He muttered under his breath, collapsing in his chair and flicking through his journal for the hundredth time. It was escapism really, reading old passages and admiring old drawings from a few weeks ago; pretending as if he were back then with nothing to fear.

He hadn’t realised how much he drew her. It seemed obvious now, flicking through the creased papers where loose sketches of y/n seemed to dot every other page. He had never questioned it before, just always thought that he could remember her figure a lot easier than others – the shape she took when she was hunched on her horse, how she always sat in the same crumpled poor-excuse of a chair every morning when he brought her a coffee. When the gang had had a small party, out of everyone it was her he remembered when sitting around the fireplace, lips parted slightly as she half-sang.

Everything was different now, even he couldn’t deny it. But God, he hated it.

What would this mean? When they got her back, if they got her back, what would happen then? Another cycle of burying his feelings, he could see himself already back at Mary’s beck-and-call, desperate for a distraction. Maybe there was a part of himself that didn’t want to see her again, that just wanted to see her safe and then disappear – could he seriously continue to live an elaborate lie he had formulated years ago, when he was only a boy? Who was that fair to?

He cussed again low under his breath. The past few days all he’s wanted to do is escape his mind, calm his rushing thoughts, tame them into something he could tolerate. Hazily, he noticed somewhat raised panicked voices out in the main camp. He could do this; he had done it before, burying feelings. The voices sounded excited. Maybe he was simply destined to live a life of half-loves. Footsteps were now moving toward his tent.

“Arthur!” But he had already picked up his gun and was headed through the folds of his camp. He had survived his feelings for y/n once before, of course he could again.

***

“Your own family left, y/n…” She cringed at how sympathetic Tony’s voice was, as if he were on her side. “They’re gone…there’s been no sign of them for weeks now. They’re not coming.”

This was apparently their plan for the time being. Whispering false truths to her about Dutch, how he was spotted on the other side of West Elizabeth, three days ride from, well wherever the hell she was.

“No,” Y/n gasped, her ribs grinding against the ground, bone and concrete. The lashes on her back felt like they were writhing as the leather whip in Steven’s hand dripped her slick blood.

“Stop!” Steven exploded, y/n was hazily aware of the whip being catapulted across the room, “Stop protecting them y/n! We’re here to help you, for God sake they-”

“Help me?” She hissed. He didn’t hear.

“don’t care about you! Look-” Steven grunted, hauling a chair from the desk to the front of her cell and throwing himself in it, “Life has been nothing but unkind to you y/n, we can see that,” Y/n squeezed her eyes shut as another dull, aching throb radiated from her back, “We’re at a point now where we can forgive you for all of your past crimes…you could walk away from this a free woman…marry a good man, whatever the hell you want…we just need something in return.”

She couldn’t meet his eye. Couldn’t begin to accept what he was telling her about her family but, the reality was, where were they? Weeks he said, weeks waiting in agony for the moment they’d come for her only to be left day in, day out, entirely and utterly alone. 

Y/n felt herself being lulled in to a numb state, all she could pitifully think of was that she wanted to go home: she wanted fresh clean clothes, Pearson’s warm soup, a story from Hosea, a hug from Dutch – when was the last time someone had touched her in an affectionate way?

“Please…” She wheezed through her shattered lungs as her eyes rolled, “Just leave me alone.”

This apparently wasn’t the right answer. Steven, in one fluid motion, swung the chair out from underneath him, hurling it at the cell. Colliding against the steel bars, the wood promptly splintered like fragile bones.

“You stupid bitch!” He exploded, “You can’t see help when it’s fucking standing in front of you! You refuse it like a fucking idiot!” He was gasping for breath as he bellowed, his podgy skin flushing scarlet, “No wonder you’ve ended up like this...all alone…” He was spitting at her, stalking across the front of her bars like a predator homing in on its prey. Y/n felt dull tears dribble down her cheeks as she began to drown in how utterly helpless she was. Crumpled on the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. “This...” He stopped stalking, his pulsating eyes glaring down at her over his rounded cheeks, “This…” He repeated, lowering himself to her level, “is why deep down…you’ll always be an orphan.”

Y/n watched him curiously, he hadn’t acted like this before. He had always had control. She then focused on Tony behind him whose eyes were avidly watching a pocket watch as his flicked it back and forth between his fingers nimbly.

“We best get going.” Tony finally spoke into the silence, swinging his coat on before checking the bullets in his pistol.

“Not yet,” Y/n’s heart dropped as Steven turned back to her, “They aint getting you back.” He spat at her, his voice low, almost as if he was laughing at her. Y/n watched in silent trepidation as he pushed his key into her cell door and slung it open, “At least…” Y/n moved her eyes back to Tony, pleading for him to do something, “They aint getting you back alive.”

Lying there, face down, unable to move, y/n found herself desperately coming to terms with her own mortality as she heard the click of the gun; summoning all her strength she tried to raise her head to look at him but his steel capped boot struck her clean across the cheek. Choking out a feeble cry she then tried to use the momentum of the kick to roll away from him, but it was futile. With her body broken beneath her there was nothing she could do, and all too soon she felt the cold, lifeless tip of the gun’s barrel pushed against the back of her head. This was it. Her pathetic, ruthless, pain-filled life – this was the climax, the pièce de résistance. The final click sounded followed by a short explosion before finally, darkness.

****

“I told you to only blow the god-damn doors off!” Arthur hollered at Sean who merely gave him a meek look and a shrug of the shoulder. Irish idiot, Arthur thought. The explosion was only supposed to take out the chains and bolts encasing the front doors, but the underestimation of the TNT had caused a shudder through house’s frame, resulting in the roof crumbling in on itself.

“Okay boys!” Dutch commanded, getting off from his horse and assessing the damage, “They know we’re here now which is fine…there’s more of us than ‘em I can promise you that.” He turned back to the gang, patrolling across the front of them like an army captain, “One objective: get in there and find y/n…you see any Pinkertons…gun ‘em down. They messed with us…with our family.” Slowly and in unison, the Van der Linde gang pulled on their masks. “Aint nobody messes with the our family and survives…nobody.” They moved in.

Arthur turned left with Charles, moving swiftly through the large, white manor house they had tracked the Pinkertons to – and God what a job that was. Weeks had passed of tracking and losing sight of the Pinkertons, putting everyone’s necks on the line trying to find the whereabouts of y/n. At first, they had been so sure she was in this old, abandoned farmhouse. They planned meticulously their attack for a week before attempting, only to discover it was some O’Discrolls cooped up in there – y/n nowhere in sight. 

Realising how much time had been wasted, they quickly went back to work, until Micah’s loudmouth made things blow up in the local town. Time and effort were then directed to moving camp somewhere safe, no one allowed to go after y/n during that time – it was also during this time that Dutch and Arthur had a rather explosive argument. 

But they were finally here, finally had tracked her to this bulky manor house out west, and if she weren’t here… well, Arthur couldn’t think about that.

“In here,” Charles’ voice rumbled as they moved past some double doors. Sharing a quick glance with Charles, Arthur jolted forward, the doors snapping back out of his way as he moved into the room. Looking around, he noticed how it looked like it was crumpled in on itself, planks of wood, an old piano, a large cabinet that had been picked clean years ago. All signs of life felt distant and foreign, as if someone hadn’t lived there for years – still, Arthur couldn’t lose hope. He turned back to Charles shook his head and they moved on.

****

Y/n blinked for what felt like forever, her heart racing as a high-pitched whine completely dominated her hearing. She hadn’t expected to still be conscious so it took her a minute to gather her bearings. Slowly, fuzzy outlines hardened into shapes and then, objects. Something had exploded, something was happening. Y/n moved and her whole body burned but it didn’t matter anymore – something was happening.

Fumbling for a second, she dragged herself up, her legs threatening to give way underneath her as she clung onto a fallen beam for support. Looking around she saw Steven rolling around near her, his face contorted into that of agony as one of his legs sat stuck under a pile of rubble and brick, a low gurgling, gasping noise whining from his throat. Sweeping low, y/n swiftly plucked up his gun and felt adrenaline start to pump through her – she had the power now.

“I can help,” Her ears still ringing as she coyly smiled at the chubby, little man at her feet. “Make the pain stop…I mean…”

Y/n, without thinking, raised the gun to his head and shot. Blood splattered across the room. Letting out a long deep sigh, y/n felt herself snapping back into her body, her arms and legs now feeling a little more like her own. Looking over she saw Tony collapsed; maybe passed out, maybe dead. It didn’t matter.

Panic rose quickly inside her, she needed to get out. She didn’t know what was happening or what had sparked the explosion, but this could be her only chance to escape - she needed to get out now. Swinging herself clumsily around the corner she opened the door and peered out, her eyes greedily racing across all the new sights and imagery. She tried to move as light as she could across the creaking floor tiles, her legs limping and stumbling over one another beneath her. Maybe there were other people in the house, maybe she was just being overcautious. She didn’t much care. She just needed to get out.

Successfully reaching a flight of stairs, she began to pick her way down, half hanging over the barista, the world spinning around her. Then, she heard a noise, heavy thumps and distant voices – she wasn’t alone. Panic rose like bile and suddenly, she was racing down the stairs, another flight followed by the next – out, out, out. The next flight, almost there, keep the gun in hand. God it’s so heavy. The world spinning around her, the adrenaline not slowing down until she scrambled down that last flight of stairs until there in front of her were the doors, opening out in a grassy barren knoll ahead.

She didn’t care about the pain anymore, or the fact that all this movement had cracked open all her cuts and lashings – she ran. She ran faster than it felt like she had ever run before, racing forth into the greenery and the open night sky. The stars gleaming down on her as she sprinted through the tall grass, feeling the wind move through her, an explosion of smells - the world alive around her. Then, a figure arose from her right. Instinctively, she stumbled down into a crouch, hiding herself in the shrubbery.

“Any sign of her?” Someone called out, fear latched onto her heart, she already knew she was the ‘her’. She tried to make out the voice, but it felt like the whole world was swimming in her head.

“No…I think John found some dead bodies in the attic. He said they were real fresh though.” Another voice, a different accent. Why wouldn’t her head unscramble itself? She felt her stomach lurch at the name – she knew a John.

“But I thought…” She heard her own voice softly choke out as she rose to her knees, swaying back and forth as the Earth moved underneath her.

“So…she aint here?”

“Doesn’t look like it…there are signs she might’ve been…they’re going to burn down the house down though.”

Looking up over the spikey tops of the greenery, y/n tried to make out the dark silhouettes barely visible against the inky night sky.

“What the hell are we going to do?”

“They won’t give up…not when it comes to her…”

“Not when it comes to anyone, Javier. We’re family. No one gets left behind.” Y/n felt a sob explode out of her – it was them. Hosea and Javier, talking about her, looking for her – saving her. In the same second another explosion erupted, this time, it was to begin the fire. Bright and beautiful, greedily eating up the dry wood of the abandoned home and exploding light into the universe. The bright and beautiful universe in which her family were here, her family that had come for her.

“Hosea!” She tried to shout but it came out as a wheeze, her voice stuck somewhere in her broken throat as she dragged herself to her feet, stumbling forward towards the figures. “Javier!” She tried again, but no noise. Nothing. Something desperate arose in her, what if they couldn’t see her? What if they left her without realising they had found her, she was here, and she was safe now. She went to shout again, her feet stumbling beneath her.

Her hair was completely loose, her clothes torn, her body broken. The heat of the fire warming her skin and yet, her skin wasn’t warm, it was burning. Fresh blood dribbling down her body as her wounds split. She wanted to scream again but something stopped her.

“Y/n…” All he said was her name. Looking up all she could see was Arthur. He was walking between Hosea and Javier, away from the house, looking at her. He could see her.

“Arthur-” She tried to say his name, but a sob shattered her lungs. She silently begged him to come to her, to touch her as she began to crumble. And, almost as if he heard her, he jolted forwards, his face enigmatic as he reached out for her but just as he was about to reach out for her – she jumped back, as if he had shocked her.

She had this God-awful look in her eyes then, all glossy and confused, like she didn’t quite recognise him. Like she was questioning him, staring at him as if she couldn’t quite make her mind up about something.

“How long’s it been.” God her voice was quiet, barely audible over the sound of the fire, the shouts of Hosea and Javier as they called for the others.

“Since what?” Arthur heard his own voice softly rumble, all he wanted was to soothe her, touch her, keep her safe.

“Since I went missing Arthur?” She looked numb; her were eyes wide, her mouth half open, a salty mixture of tears, dirt and blood dribbling down her cheeks. Arthur had not realised a single question could make him feel so guilty.

“Um…maybe a few weeks…”

“Maybe?” She let out a shaky breath. He felt like a small stone settle at the bottom of his gut – guilt.

“Four weeks yesterday…that’s when you went missing.”

And there it was. Y/n’s mind felt like it was crumpling in on itself, beginning to choke on the feeling of betrayal. Four weeks. Four weeks they had left her there, maybe searching, maybe not. She had lay in that poor excuse for a jailcell for a month, she had been dragged past her breaking point, she had faced pain like she could never had imagined waiting every second, every minute for her family to do what a family does, to protect her and yet, where were they?

“Y/n, girl, there you-” Dutch’s gruff voice swam into her mind as she twisted away from Arthur. The blazing red of the fire and the inky blue of the night sky, all of it blurring into a complete and utter mess.

“Four weeks….” She was surprised at how meek her own voice sounded, she hated it venomously. How was it that she had become so weak? How had she gotten here, to this moment? “Where were you?” She turned back to where Arthur stood, his head bowed like a scolded runt and Dutch, his hand half outstretched towards her, his euphoric face crumbling. “How could you let…”

“Y/n we were looking for you…I promise we were looking…” Dutch began, already stumbling into his defensive tone. Y/n wanted to believe him, but then she blinked and suddenly she was back in her cell, the ominous faces of men she was savagely scared of hovering above her, sneering at her as they told her how her family had disappeared, left her behind, just like her parents did. She blinked once more, and they were gone.

“You were supposed to protect me-” Suddenly, she exploded, “We’re family! What kind of a family does that to one another…you left me there…you left me there with those men…”

“I know baby-” Dutch began again.

“No!” She was gasping now, unable to breathe – the smoke and the sobbing choking her, “You don’t know…if only you did…if only you knew what they did to me Dutch….” Her cheeks throbbed as she tried to resist a guttural sob, “I thought I was your daughter.”

“You are-”

“No…I aint.” Her legs were shaking now, the fire and sky crashing together once again, “You don’t do that to your daughter, you left me…you left me behind.” Suddenly the grass felt so soft, “You left me...” The grass was so gentle compared to the concrete of her cell, the soil softened, responded to her touch, moved with her – earth and flesh, “You left me just like they did…”

Resting back, she dug her fingers deep into the earth and looked up. The sky was hot, the soil cold. Her world being torn open around her, exploding and rearranging into something new.

Nothing would be the same.

*****

“Oh…you scared me.” Arthur murmured, his eyes flickering up to the ghostly figure at the mouth of his tent.

“Sorry I-” Y/n stood awkwardly between the folds of cloth, dressed in only her night things with her hair loose down her back. She looked young, a little like how she did when they had first met. Arthur also noticed then how delicate she looked; it had been like that for a few weeks now.

Dutch had basically carried her back to camp, leaving her with Ms Grimshaw so her wounds could be tended to. Arthur had checked in on her regularly during the first few days, he liked it most when she was asleep, it gave him time to watch over her without feeling as though he was intruding.

“No, it’s okay,” A sloping grin melted into his cheeks, “Stay...please…I got, uh, oatcakes and beer.”

“Wow…my lucky treat,” Arthur watched with concealed warmth as a smile pattered across her cheeks. It had felt like forever since he had seen her smile. “Sorry for intruding, guess I just wanted to be close to someone for a ‘lil bit. Can’t sleep, y’know,” Moving into his camp, she curled herself up on Arthur’s fur rug, resting her back against his side table; it was her position, whenever she had snuck into his tent she had always somehow folded herself into that specific corner and he had never dared question it for she would always aggressively insist she was comfortable.

“Yeah, I understand. I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel like that most of the time.”

“To be honest, it wasn’t made very clear when I signed up to this gang…” Y/n grinned at him, “Maybe then I would’ve rethought my application.” Arthur chuckled.

“True…they don’t exactly give you a run down before you start living a life of crime.” Moments like these were more regular the past few days. Moments where he found himself relaxing into the familiar rhythmic conversations with y/n that he had always had, it was comforting, a reminder that the pain was temporary. “How you holding up?”

“Fine,” She smiled at him, a real smile, “Ms Grimshaw works a miracle.”

“That she does,” He shuffled slightly to rest his back against the wagon next to his bed.

“Nothing really bad happened to me physically…I mean, nothing I can’t recover from.”

“And you will, with time, you always do.” She smiled at him again, but this time her eyes lowered after meeting his – was she nervous?

“I guess the only problem is…Dutch aint shifting outta protective mode any time soon.”

“He’ll get over it…” Arthur chuckled, “I think he’s just mad at himself y’know. You know how much you mean to him.”

“Yeah, yeah,” She nodded sleepily. “I know Morgan.” God, it killed him when she called him that. Suddenly, y/n’s face twisted up in a grimace and she jolted up, her hands stretching toward her back.

“Y’okay?” He asked nervously after a moment.

“Fine…fine…” She winced, rubbing at her shoulders, “Just not quite 100% yet, y’know.” He eyed her for a moment as she pushed her hair out of her face, trying to massage the spot in her shoulder that was causing her pain.

“Here,” He surprised himself by saying, “Let me do your hair.” She eyed him; an eyebrow half raised her lips slightly parted. It seems neither of them had expected him to raise that offer. “Oh c’mon, remember how I used to braid your hair before shooting lessons with Dutch?”

“Feels like a lifetime ago…” She murmured; a faint smile painted on her lips as her eyes clouded with a distant memory

“I ain’t forgotten how to,” He smiled at her and she smiled back, shyly. A pause. “Please y/n. I know I can’t do much to help you right now…I’m no good doctor, I’m a god damn idiot when it comes to words and, y’know, comforting people. So, please…let me do this.” He watched as her lips parted slightly into a distant smile, her eyes lighting up.

“Okay Morgan…if you really want to braid my hair I guess I’ll have to allow it. Just do a good job of it okay.”

“Who you trying to look good for?”

“Oh, you know me Morgan…everybody and nobody.” Arthur chuckled to himself. She plodded herself down on the floor next to his cot and, shifting over, he planted his legs like trunks either side of her, creating a small cove in which she could tuck herself.

He went to move her hair to the back when he noticed his hands shaking ever so slightly, his heart rate jumping too. Arthur tried to calm himself then and there but couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the feeling of her, the warmth along the inside of his claves as she curled into him, resting her head lightly against his right knee. Desperately trying not to hurt her, he scooped up her hair and used his fingers to softly comb behind her ears and down her neck, ensuring he had caught every soft wisp.

Silently, he cursed his fingers for being so calloused, spitefully thinking of how his fingers might be grazing her soft skin. Sweeping all her hair to the back, he watched as it loosely tumbled down before softly combing his fingers through it. He promptly forgot about how much he hated his hands, forgot his hatred of how he had always been so large and gruff, unsubtle and mean. Instead his mind became full of thoughts of her.

How different her hair colour looked in the orange candlelight compared to daylight. How long her hair tumbled down her back when loose and how he hadn’t noticed considering she always had it tied back. How he could see the skin of her neck peeking at him as her hair began to sway when he braided it. How that skin sloped down into the loose collar of her night shirt. The way her shoulders and back moved with her steady breath and, if he listened carefully, how he could hear it. Steady, strong, safe. It seemed all too quickly the braid twisted to a finish in his fingers.

“You got a tie?”

“Course,” She sleepily murmured. God that killed him. The way her eyes drooped, the way she moved without being conscious of what she was doing to him. She placed the tie in his outstretched palm and seemed to not realise that her delicate hands had brushed so softly against his rough ones.

“I’m scared,” She piped up as his fingers returned to her hair, her voice ever so slightly dreamy.

“That they’ll come take you again?” Now done, Arthur relaxed back into his cot a little but refused to move his legs, desperate to not disturb her.

“No…well yes but…” She melted deeper into the cove of his legs without thinking, “I’m scared that what they did to me, what happened in those weeks…I’m scared it’s going to be with me for the rest of my life, affect me for the rest of my life, I mean.”

“But-”

“Sorry, I know it sounds silly-”

“No…it doesn’t,” Arthur leaned forward, catching her eye, “There aint anything silly about what you went through, but…I know for a fact that it won’t affect you forever.” A beat.

“How?”

“Because you’re so much more than what happened to you in those four weeks. You’ve lived through hell; we all know it, and yet at the end the day – you’re more than any of the people who have hurt you.” He watched her looking at him, trying to figure out the enigmatic feeling written on her face, but the conversation moved swiftly on.

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened in those weeks?” She whispered, not blinking, “Where you all were?”

“We were looking for you y/n, and that’s the God honest truth,”

“But-”

“But nothing y/n. For a while uh…things got complicated. We lost track for a bit and you paid for it, I’m sorry.” He looked down, wondering how far he could take this, “Y’know, I thought that you were dead, just for a moment…I was destroyed.” Her face remained enigmatic, “Now I’m scared to turn away from you for one second, I’m afraid I’ll lose you again.” It felt like he was crossing into unmarked territory.

“You’ll never lose me,” She breathed, “Not really.” A knot tied itself into existence in his gut.

Their eye contact never broke. It felt like it never would. Looking at her then, he felt like there were a million things he wanted to say to her, like there was so much of himself he had yet to reveal to her. The parts of himself which, in all honesty, cared for her more than he ever realised. Sitting there, with her tucked against his right knee, he couldn’t help himself.

Almost as if he were in a trance, he began to trace his fingers along the hair behind her left ear before scooping up her braid and shifting it to the side, how comforting it was to know that she was right there, under his fingertips. His left hand moved to her shoulder were he gently shifted the white cotton of her dress so that it slipped down, exposing her black and beaten shoulder. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he brought his lips down and pressed them against her colourful skin. She shivered into his touch as his beard grazed her bare flesh, but she never looked away. He kissed her again, moving up closer to her neck, his eyes fluttering shut. He was so close that she could feel his breath fluttering across her exposed neck. She relaxed into him, almost daring him to go further until she noticed something – he was crying.

Soft beads rolled down his cheeks as he kissed her again, and again, and again. Softly, y/n started to hear his whispers warm into the silence.

“I’m sorry…”

“I can protect you…”

“They won’t ever hurt you again…”

“I’m here now…”

“I’m sorry…”

“I’m here…”

 Maybe y/n was right, maybe nothing would be the same. But change didn’t seem so scary anymore.

requests open <3

Tags:

@uniqueclodzinevoid​

@rollyjogerjones​

#Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 1 #red dead redemption community #rdr #rdr2 #rdr imagine #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x female oc #arthur morgan x #arthur morgan imagine #Dutch Van Der Linde

[hawks-is-kinda-chicken-little]

Voicemail: Part 3

Hawks x reader 

A/n: I swear I am alive, I'm just getting my shit together for college. Anyways have my half-assed attempt at a story plot. I stopped here because I'm going through sad hours and that was really going to affect the rest of the story if I continued, I mean it still might be i’m not sure. No clue how gently I feel like being to everyone's feelings for the last chapter (don’t worry I make myself suffer too).

Part 1

Part 2

-Part 3-

Part 4

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“Not alive at least. They never come back alive.”

Hawks may not have been in the facility anymore, but he could still hear the words through the speaker. After all feathers weren’t the only thing he inherited from the avian species. In-fact, a lot of predatory bird-like qualities were passed down to him, none of which were proving to be any aid.

Endeavor exited the facility talking to some of the other heroes who were caring for the two children. He looked towards the clouds watching the desperate hero who was barely able to flap his wings in a steady momentum to keep him airborne. Twitching here and there causing his flow to stutter. Feathers puffed up clearly agitated, but some others sharpened to a dangerous level. It was truly a pitiful sight. From the looks of it, Hawks was nowhere near ready to calm down. Hands were shaking while switching from clenching to unclenching, desperately wanting to hold on to something. Nail marks were indented in the palms of his gloves. Anxiety and agony evidently overriding every morsel of reason that survived up to this point.  His eyes never stopped searching, gaze switching from place to place as light-speed. Endeavor could practically taste the burning red rage sourly seething through Hawks every movement. But, nothing Endeavor could say would bring Hawks from his agitated state. He had to let it fly its course. Only then would Endeavor be able to pull him back to one of the agencies where they could recuperate. 

Lucky for the heroes, they had detained all the henchmen left to guard the facility. They might be able to strangle some information out of them. But, it was kinda strange that the main man would leave them there knowing that the heroes were en-route. However, as Rumi noted, leaving those men there perfectly diverted their attention from the escaping vehicle. A smart move on the abductors part. 

The League was pretty pissed about the whole shebang. Torturing the earlier captured men in a more gruesome manner out of pure rage. In doing so, one of them squeaked about some sort of airport. Oh, now those two were in even deeper shit. Dabi was nice enough to inform Hawks about this new information though. Calling him over for a nice group beating. 

“That’s all I know swea- ack” 

Smack!

Blood splattered the ground, painting over old splotches littering the place. 

Crack! 

One of many bones to be shattered but the blunt head of the bat.

“I’ll ask this one for time- What fucking airport?”

Silence. 

Crack!

“Hawks, the guys’ gonna be dead before you get an answer, or at least a feasible one,” Dabi grunted. 

“Fucking hell,” Hawks cursed, slinging the blood dripping bat to the side of the room with an echoing thud as the wood teetered from end to end until it settled. Hands shooting to clench his golden locks in an iron grip. He squatted to the floor, head hanging low, trying to fight the urges of a predator whose prey sits before them utterly helpless. 

A scarred hand grabbed Hawks’ shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Hawks shifted his head slightly, just enough so that he could eye Dabi's own eyes from the side. So many emotions swirled within those baby blue pools of fire. Remorse, agitation, worry, and so much more, all together forming a dangerous poison. A poison which would make poor souls scream in agony for death. Something Keigo would be glad to provide. 

Now the two might now get along most of the time, but when facing a common goal, they are not a pair to be trifled with. 

The men in the chairs started struggles in the ropes that tied them to the splintering chair. Pulling hopelessly with all their might, but to no avail. Dabi and Hawks shifted their eyes to the bastards in front of them. 

The hand, not on Hawks’ shoulder, was raised to the man's face level, resting inches away. Smoke began flaring from Dabi’s scared palm, small blue flames flickered around the heel as it heated up. The heat alone was enough to singe the man’s facial hair. Terror welled in the man’s expression as the hand was brought closer, making him whimper.

“Let's try this again.”

Horrid fumes of burnt flesh swirled throughout the air. The man was a tough one to crack, Dabi knew he would come around, he just needed a little encouragement. They got the information they wanted him. Hawks had pity on the bastard, taking a feather, slitting his throat with one quick slash. The other man could do nothing but watch as his comrade bleed out.  

“Don’t worry pal, my boss has plans for you.”

No matter how much he tried to scream all that would come out was muffled sludge blocked by the gag. Dabi, patted his ashy hand on the man’s head before walking towards the door with Hawks following on his heels. The man’s thrashing only increased as he door slammed closed, leaving him with the freshly fried corpse of the other one.

“What’s the plan from here?” Dabi asked.

“If they wanted to sneak on the plane unnoticed, they would have to do it at night, when no one else could potentially spot them.”

“It's a private jet though.”

“Yes, but the guys said it was being held with other private jets.”

“Whatever, your dumbass logic gives me a headache sometimes.”

Twice popped out around the corner where they were talking.

“Please don’t screw each other in the lobby.”

“Twice, what the hell. I would rather set myself on fire.”

Hawks gave Dabi an offended glare. Dabi in return rolled his eyes, walking away from Hawks. 

“Just hurry up. Go get your boy scout in line and save her already”

“Who said I was doing this as a hero?”

Dabi halted, back facing Hawks. A smirk tugged at the corners of his charred lips as his eyes darkened. 

“You don’t have the balls to fly that far from the nest bud. Your stupid heroes commission the only things you truly value in society.”

Hawks glared, but held his tongue. Dabi glared back with just as much hatred taking a couple of steps back towards the winged hero. 

“That damned heroes commission seems to be the only thing you seem to stay faithful to.”

“What the Hell does that mean?” Hawks squawked.

“It means you are more likely to leave her for the vultures before ignoring your duties to those shitholes. Oh, wait a second, that's exactly what you did.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really now? So let me get this straight, you didn’t push her away, become a complete asshole to her because of them. Hawks at the end of the day all that matters in that brainwashed head of yours is that shitty organisation.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine, let's pretend that it wasn’t the commission pulling the strings. In that case, you are a really shitty person. I mean, you ARE the reason they're in this mess to begin with.” Hawks’ blood ran cold, Dabi gave an exasperated chuckle “What makes you think she even wants YOUR help?” 

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh how you harm me with your words.” Dabi mocked 

“Who’s fucking side are you on? Where the hell is this coming from?”

“Let’s be clear about one thing, birdbrain, just because I want her safe doesn’t mean i’m on your side. You fucked up. And that guilt is only because you feel responsible for her kidnapping, it isn’t because you’re disgusted with all the shit you put her through. So listen when I say-”

“No, you listen here, asshole. Do you honestly think I can't see the damage I did? I am not making an excuse for my behavior, looking back I can see how fucked up I was towards her. I was blessed with an angel, I had never in my life been genuinely cared about. I had never been so committed to someone, so attached to another person. Someone who felt the exact way as I did. It was terrifying.” Hawks paused face falling downwards, scrunching up to fight away the tears building up. “I didn’t have the balls to face her as time went on, so I did what I did best, I put up a front and moved forward. Avoiding our relationship, avoiding her, just because I was scared of commitment. I never bothered to think about the effects it might have had on her. I’m a real douche for doing it and I know it.”

“Shame what it took for you to figure that out.” 

There was nothing sympathetic in Dabi’s tone, no, it was as sour as biting into a ripe bitter melon. Hawks said nothing, he was right after all.

“Go home Keigo. You're not welcome here right now.”

Dabi watched as Hawks turned and walked to the door. Waiting till he was about to close the door on his way out to let out one final stab.

“Oh and Keigo,” Hawks paused “when she’s safe, hope she realizes you’re not worth it.”

SLAM!

Dabi was pretty sure Hawks broke some of the hinges when he shut it behind him.

“Bastard,” He muttered, clearly not into Hawks’ delinquent behavior. Dabi stomped off to the bar to talk to the others about what to do next.

What the actual fuck, Hawks thought as he took off into the dusk set skies. Yes, he knows he screwed this up, Dabi didn’t need to rub it in anymore.

Taking out his phone, Hawks shot a text to Rumi informing her of the newly found information. It was always kind of surprising that no other hero ever questioned where all his exclusive information came from, but oh well. Hawks went straight for the place, not giving anyone time to regroup and set out a plan. It didn’t do much good last time and he wasn’t willing to risk it again. He had an hour or so before the moon set in place, if he was lucky he would make it there before anyone else did. 

Wings soared through the clouds as he scanned the area below, searching for the facility. His sights locked onto a large gated perimeter, surrounding multiple runways connected to a couple of buildings housing the aircrafts. It was one of the many private airports in Tokyo, a place where the rich kept their collection of aircrafts. Hawks descended to a large window in the center of the middle building in the facility. The place seemed to be more of a showcase then anything, some of the jets looked like there were fresh out of manufacturing. 

The place looked empty, no sign of any life in the facility. If it wasn’t for his abnormal vision he would be able to see anything in the pitch black room. No gates or doors were open,  no runway lights shined behind him, no unusual vehicles were in sight. So either he beat everyone here, or he’s got the wrong place. 

He was about to take back off into the sky when he spotted a jet that matched the description the man gave him. A sleek black metal covering, twelve square windows spaced evenly on each side of the jet’s middle, matte silver nose, blood red paint rimming the edges of the wings. It was big enough to carry a small army. The jet seemed a little out of place next to all the smaller, more compact aircraft.

It was clear the jet had yet to be tampered with. They must be waiting till the moon was at its highest to hide their escape. If that was the case they would be there for another hour or so meaning Hawks could have a look around the place. Maybe sabotage the plane enough that it might not function properly. 

Using a feather Hawks carves out a circle into the glass, just big enough that he could fight through and not get stuck. The tricky part was putting the glass back into place so that the bastards weren’t suspicious of the giant whole in the window. But, he managed to do it with only a couple of close calls.

Though he was alone, Hawks still had to be careful nonetheless. Fingers felt around the side of his goggles in search of the night vision button. However, a glowing group of infrared blobs that only grew bigger by the second appeared in his sights. With great haste Hawks hide in the cramped empty space behind one of the two stairwells one either side of the balcony of the window. The tight squeeze forced his wings to fold into uncomfortable positions against the base of his back. 

It stopped right outside the giant corridors leading out to the building runway. While his the blurriness of the image made it hard to fully make out he counted seven or nine of the now van sized blobs. The one in the middle was to first to make any sort of move, a panel sliding to the side as figures exited the vehicle. Others to the right and left followed suit. All filing out into the open, crowding to the center one. Though all the bodies it was he could barely make out a body hauled out onto the ground next to boxes gathered for the other vans. His attention was so zeroed in on the limp body that he didn’t notice the dozen or so figures heading for the corridor. 

CREEEEAAAAK!!

The heavy metal scraped against the asphalt as it was forcefully pried open by the figures. They didn’t fully peel the doors back though, only enough so that a couple of men could head in. About six men entered the dark area, flashlights swinging around in search of anything intruder. Hawks scrunched farther into the wall, missing the beams of the one of them by millimetres allowing him to go unnoticed by the men. The continued their inspection, not very thoroughly Hawks noted, until they each gave a thumbs up signally to the others nothing was out of place.

“All clear,” One of them yelled out behind.

All six men then approach the designated aircraft. Hawks wanted to bang his head on the wall from his own stupidity, since he chose the staircase opposite of the plane. 

He let out a quiet hiss of frustration; “dammit.”

Biting the inside of his cheek he started trying to devise a plan. Maybe, just maybe, he could sneak some feathers inside to take them out. So he did just that, sending one feather for each man and one extra just in case. 

The men had clearly let their guard drop as they focused on their tasks. He had no problem maneuvering the feathers around them as they worked. Two men were in the cockpit, two in the carriage, one taking storage in the backroom, and the last of the six was making his way to the single bathroom of the aircraft.

The man made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his pants before pulling out a phone and doing some unspeakable things that made Hawks want to vomit in his tiny corner. The poor guy had no clue that he was going to be the first to go, Hawks literally caught the bastard with his pants down. A mental note was made to just leave the dagger in his chest, after everything he just witnessed with that feather there was no way he wanted it back in his plumage. 

One down, five to go and next up was the storage guy. A feather hovered right above the back of the guy as he checked off boxes on his clipboard. Moving forward, but still sticking to the wall in order to give the feather a better angle to slash his neck. However, the bright colors contrasted with the white wall, catching the attention of the man.

“What the fuc-”

Swish

It sliced through the air, not giving the man any time to process the situation. Hands instinctively flew to his throat in a pathetic attempt to stop the life escaping him. Bright red blood seeped through the cracks between his fingers, leaking down his front as he wobbled on his feet. The harsh thud of a body crashing to the floor never sounded through the air as the feather slipped down the back of his shirt to guide him quietly to the ground. Once he was laid out noiselessly on the now red stained ground the feather took off to regroup. 

They all stayed as flat as paper against the slick interior of the plane, making sure never to be in the line of sight. Three feathers arrived at their next destination, the passenger section. The two men were just goofing off. Neglecting their assigned duties in favor of gossiping like highschool girls. Hawks could help the twitching of his upper lip, sharp canines baring each time the muscles spasmed. Sexist comments were slurred back and forth between them as they talked about his dove. Feral instincts screamed at him torture them till they were pleading for death. But, he needed to keep his composure or else risk getting caught and that was not something he could really afford right now. 

The feathers slithered down the aisle when the assholes turned their backs to one another. One feather took off to lock the cockpit hatch from the outside, making the two on the inside unable to interrupt Hawks. Both the men were facing the side wall of the aircraft making it easy to string two feathers into position to swoop up and dispose of them just like like the now rotting corpse in the storage compartment. 

Swish

Hawks really wished he could have prolonged their suffering, but he had more important matters to worry about, unlike those sexist bastards. Oh well, he would just have to be sure to spit on their corpses later. 

The last two in the cockpit worked to get the carrier up and running. Hawks could hear them from the two feathers locking inside with them as they ran their diagnostics. Just as the feathers were about to capture their lives the roaring of an engine coming to life sounded throughout the facility. Blinding bright headlights buzzed on pointing to the corridors as if asking to be let out. 

CREEEEAAAAK

Hawks peered over the corner of the wall hiding him, he saw more men pulling the door fully apart to make way for the giant aircraft. With all the new lighting Hawks had to turn off the night vision mode on his goggles so he could see. Through the orange tint of his lenses he could spot [y/n]’s limp body laying on her side facing him through the legs of the surrounding guards. Her whole body looked as though they just threw her to the asphalt from the van door.  A grimy brown sack covered her head that hung to the floor slightly supported by the shoulder on the ground unnaturally scrunched up by her neck. He could see the raw skin surrounding the bonds tightly wired around her bare wrists. What really unnerved him was the slow unsteady half-rise of her chest every so often. He doesn’t know if it was due to the bag covering her airway or the utterly traumatized state of her body, but it wasn’t hard to tell her lungs were starting to give way. There was no way in Hell she would make it through the plane ride. She needed medical attention and she needed it fast.

The shifting of wheels brought Hawks out of his panic as the aircraft propellers spun around in place,  making the plane go forward ever so slightly. It stopped one it was centered with the doors in the front of the facility. If he slashed his feathers upon them it would surely arm the onlookers. Eyes once again shifted to the body of his dove.

Helpless. He couldn’t make a move without stirring up their attention. And if they threatened her, there wasn’t even a sliver of a chance he would make it in time. 

TING

The sound echoed out from his pocket. The phone vibrated letting out another sound to alert him of a notification. 

Hawks’ heart dropped to the ground as everything around him moved in slow motion. Heads took their time spinning in his direction when in reality they snapped his way in milliseconds. 

He didn’t have time to look at his phone as bullets flew his way. Faster than ever, he took to the air, dodging the oncoming hellfire. Since all was turning to shit, the two cockpit feathers slashed the hell out of the men inside with zero mercy whatsoever. Using some spare feathers he sent them lashing at the tires preventing their second escape. He’d rather be plucked for everything he was worth before letting them get away again, especially not when they were so close.

His earpiece rang to life as he wound through the air. 

“What the fuck is happening” a harsh feminine voice that sounded like Rumi screamed from the other side.

“Shit hit the fan, send help.”

That was all he could say before getting nailed in the right shoulder. Wings stuttered in shock, but adrenaline pushed them to keep flapping. 

“Hawks!” She called.

He could barely hear her through the blazing bullets piercing through the air.

“Heading….. Minutes…… Endeavor…… Way.”

Static cut out sentences leaving him with only a couple of words from the other line. He didn’t have time to decode the meaning though.

In the midst of frantic maneuvering a blast of fire hit the window behind him sending him flying forward as a bullet lodged itself in his right thigh.

“Friendly fire!” He screamed behind him. 

Now shit was really hitting the fan, Hawks thought to himself as he looped through the new hole created by none other than Endeavor. He made his way to the top of the building, the roof partially deflecting some of the ammunition flying at light speed. A new wave of confidence gassed his system with the brigade of heroes quickly approaching from behind.

“I know I annoy you, but do ya really need to fry me right now?”

Endeavor only grunted as he landed next to the winged hero, Rumi was soon to join them. The bullets had ceased to pierce the air for a moment, Hawks could hear the head guy yelling at his underlines like an abusive dog owner. Naturally they tried to retreat to their vehicles, but found the tires were lacerated enough that they were rendered useless. The yell turned into hushed whispers. 

All heroes crowded up onto the roof, hastily devising a plan that would hopefully let them safely extract the beaten girl. Time was ticking fast as two beautiful lives were draining from the mother's body every wasted second. They needed to make a move and they needed to do it now. 

“Fuck plans”

“Hawks don’t be rash” 

Endeavor could get fucked by fire for all Hawks cared. He was going in sending flocks of lethal feathers to shred them while he used the remaining feathers to take to the sky. 

It only escalated from there on. Quirks were activated from both ends, but the heroes had to be careful, they may have the upper hand power wise, but the enemies had a hostage. Hawks could see his dove start to stir among all the commotion, but his attention was quickly redirected as a first sent him flying into a wall.

In the midst of the battle one of the lackey’s managed to discreetly snag [y/n] and a couple of the packages into a small aircraft. All which were messily tossed into the back of the cargo compartment before jumping in the control seat. All engines were a go and it was off to the runway from there, splattering some of his comrades into the pavement on the way. Hawks wasn’t having it though, redirecting all of the feathers slashing around to chase the jet as it wobbled in the sky.

“Your feathers are going to do jackshit, GO!” Rumi encouraged, no longer holding back. 

That was all he needed to hear, as he darted to the air, targeting with pinpoint accuracy.  The door of the storage holder on the side of the jet cracked open. Opening more and more as the pilot tried to steady the plane in the sky. The jet lagged in the sky as it swerved to the side making package after package plummet out. Hawks was tailing the jet, but the pilot kept taking sharp turns to try and lose him. 

Hawks spotted [y/n’s body starting to slip to the edge of the open door. One final turn from the unsteady jet was all it took to send her descending into the air. Hawks immediately dove after her, wings tucking flat to increase his speed, arms stretching out towards her, hands ready to snatch her at the first given chance. 

The ground was approaching uncomfortable fast. [Y/n] was just out of his reach, fingertips brushing against her own. 

His wings gave one last flutter against his back, pushing him just far enough to reach her forearm. Hawks latch his hand onto her arm hauling her into his arms before spreading his scarlet wings in an attempt to catch in the air. A hiss passed his lips as the opposing velocity strained the muscles at the base of his wings. 

Just before the hit the ground Hawks caught his bearings, letting them at least land somewhat safely. He stumbled on the turf, the hand that wasn’t holding [y/n] shot out to the ground where he keeled making sure to not fall over onto her. They landed a mile or so from the gates of the airport. 

BOOM!

Hawks watched as sparks erupted from an explosion a little ways from them. Looks like the poor bastard couldn’t fly after all.

His breath was heaving, the adrenaline of the situation still pumping through his body. Lifting his hand from the ground he untied the rope holding the sack over her head, pulling it off, freeing her beaten face. Scarce breaths passed through her cracked lips. 

Hawks was quick to let the rest know he had her. Endeavor let out a sigh of relief through the otherside of the line. Rumi yelled with happiness. When asking about her condition, he was hesitant to say anything, only saying that he was rushing her to urgent care immediately. 

Weakly she stirred in his arms, whimpering as her bound wrist rubbed the harsh unforgiving rope peeling her already raw skin. Hawks plucked a feather, slashing her wrist and ankle constraints, finally setting her aching limbs free. Tears welled in his eyes, partly because she was now in his arms once again and partly because she was suffering in his arms.

“Shhhhh, baby bird, I’m gonna get you some help okay?” 

He couldn’t tell if she heard him, but he wasn’t going to bother waiting for a reply. Wings spread behind him once more, screaming at him from pure agonizing torture they had already suffered. Limbs burned, fire setting every vein ablaze with even the slightest of moments. 

All it took once one more heart wrenching soft cry passing her lips to get the adrenaline rushing again. No wound or pain could hold him down as he flapped his wings aggressively through the thin air. He kept staggering up to the clouds and low to the ground. It was definitely not his smoothest flight, but it was doing the job. She was held securely in a tight embrace against his chest. One of his hands gently caressed her cheek with the thumb in an attempt to pass her his wordless love. 

Some of the feathers started to give from those once giant eyes. Every feather lost was another piece of [y/n] drifting to the light of eternal rest. She was a rose that was slowly shedding its abused petals, wilting from the mortal world. 

Hawks could see the hospital in his sights, in his moment of overwhelming relief he almost hit the ground, but luckily he was able to bring them both up just in time. 

White doors slammed over as a body crashed onto the hospital lobby tile. The receptionist rushed over to the counter spotting the hero, wings clings around his front to cushion their landing. Looking at the lady in scrubs he lifted one of his wings revealing the beaten woman he cradled to his chest. The lady screamed for help as doctors and nurses flooded the room. A stretcher was brought in as [y/n] was carted into one of the back rooms, nurses flocking the stretcher trying to assess her state. 

A separate stretcher was brought in for him. A light smile graced his face as he watched them take care of her while they hauled him onto the cart. One of the nurses was trying to ask him questions, but he paid them no mind, only watching his dove.

The smile quickly faded as he saw more doctors dash to her room, panicked expressions present on each of their faces. He tried to stay awake, he tried to hear what was going on, but the last thing he heard was a doctor yelling one word that echoed in his ears even as he lost touch with reality.

“CLEAR!”

Then everything went black.

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Also I want to thank you all for reading this, it makes me so happy. I literally cried at all the love you all gave the first chapter. I wish I was kidding I actually cried.

TAGS:

@assassinslittlesister @anxiousgoddest @moonpawss @regularkacchan @austriasmariazelle @murkyrosewrite @hawksexual @imuziawi

#bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #hawks x reader #bnha keigo takami #boku no hero academia #mha #hawks #keigo takami

[bobbymckenzie]

runaway

☆ pairing: nicky x mc

☆ word count: 2.3k

☆ tags: @serafinedupont ; @ariendiel ; @venueska ; @bellarxse ; @lasswithumor ; @lucas-koh ; @violinet ; @messofakind 

☆ author’s note: ok full disclosure i stopped playing like day 3 of season 3 so i’m purely going off of screenshots i’ve seen of nicky. he’s seriously my favorite and i want him so bad!!! ok anyways here’s a one-shot of nicky and my mc, danielle/dani realizing their feelings for each other ! here it is on ao3 ! comments, kudos, and feedback of any kind is much appreciated !! [this is not my favorite thing i’ve ever written but i could not get this idea out of my head]

•─────────✦☆✦────────•

She nudged her way through the crowd, the edge of her dress fisted in her trembling hand, heading towards any exit door she could find. Huge crowds were never her thing, and it never got easier, even after the season ended.

She pushed out onto the balcony, revelling in the crisp, fresh air, breathing so deeply until her chest loosened up a bit.

The edge of the balcony looked out onto the huge lawn, precisely cut and bright as synthetic, store bought grass. Fake looking and expensive, just like half of the patrons at the gala.

She was rubbing elbows with the elite and she hated it. A lot. Humble beginnings to being a sellout.

Valets in steam pressed uniforms maneuvered the expensive luxury vehicles throughout the long, winding driveway, not a single person who made below six figures in sight.

She gripped the cold marble until her hands stung, trying to focus on anything other than her panicked pulse to slow it down. She was never gonna get used to this life, no matter how many high profile events she was invited to.

“Hey, Dani,” a melodic voice called from behind her.

“Oh, Nicky, hey,” she threw him a soft smile, hoping he didn’t hear the way her breath hitched in her throat at her nickname.

“Needed a breather, too?” He slid the glass door behind him, closing it with a click, before coming to join her at the railing.

“Yeah, I just… couldn’t handle the crowd anymore,” she shrugged, taking a shaky breath.

He knew how badly crowds freaked her out. Being on a t.v. show that hinged on hidden cameras and an intimate cast, she never gave off the appearance that she would’ve reacted this way.

But the night of the finale, she found herself hiding in the corner of the Villa bathroom out of the ways of the cameras, trying desperately to catch her breath. Camilo hadn’t come to check on her, like she’d hoped. First person to knock on the door and ask how she was doing was Nicky.

He gently removed their mics, and spoke to her with such kindness and understanding that she couldn’t help but fall for him more than she already had.

God, Camilo was a great partner in the Villa. He was hot, incredibly suave, and practically worshipped the ground she walked on. But it turned out to be exactly what she was afraid of.

All passion, no substance.

It wasn’t a messy break up, but she wouldn’t count on him trying for more than the basic “How are you?” type of filler conversations with her if they ran into each other on the street.

Which they just so happened to do, since the charity gala insisted on trying to get any single islanders to offer up a date in exchange for a hefty donation.

“Sorry about that. I know this isn’t your kind of scene,” he said, leaning his arm against the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles. His body faced her, but he turned his head, surveying the lawn.

Danielle couldn’t help but stare at his defined features, the short, neat stubble parallel to his jawline, full lips pursed in a thoughtful pout.

He looked back at her, brows furrowed, concern knitted between them. “Are you okay with the auction?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. The amount of old men here is disconcerting. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do if I get bid on by a really ugly guy –”

Nicky cut her off, laughing heartily, the bass of his voice reverberating off of the marble. “Damn, you really don’t wanna be here.”

“What, and you do?” She giggled, his laugh infectious. It was one of her favorite sounds.

He shrugged. “Not really. I was kind of hoping I could auction off a chance to play at somebody’s wedding or something.”

“Yeah, they see a handsome face–” she motioned up and down his body, “–before they see everything else.”

“You say that like you aren’t a catch, too, Dani,” he grinned. She rolled her eyes, trying to be nonchalant when she was freaking out inwardly.

“So does that mean Elladine is okay with you being here?” She asked hesitantly. She knew that they’d reunited after she walked out of the Villa, and from what the tabloids said, they were happy.

He winced, taking a deep breath. “Uh, yeah we broke up a little while ago. We just realized we were better off as friends.”

“She did, or you did?” He couldn’t lie to her – they knew each other too well for that. By the way he fidgeted, she knew she’d hit a nerve.

“You got me. I did. I still love her, don’t get me wrong. It just ended up feeling more like a partnership than a relationship you know?” He shrugged, trying to mask the unsurety in his voice.

“You realized maybe it was better when there were other people around?”

He glanced away, rolling his lips together. “...Yeah.”

She nodded, taking another deep breath, her pulse picking up speed.

Danielle had developed a huge crush on Nicky early on, but he and Elladine had gotten along so well that she just settled for being best friends. From the moment he compared her to his sister, she set her sights elsewhere.

But sometimes Nicky’s lingering looks gave her mixed signals. She never completely gave up hope, but the chances of them coupling up was next to none.

“So… I saw you and Camilo are done. You doing okay? Sorry I didn’t reach out to you sooner –”

“No, it’s okay. Life happens. I don’t blame you at all,” she said, with a sense of finality.

“Dani… how are you holding up? Really?”

He could see right through her, just like she could with him.

She blew out air, her lips flapping together. “It’s weird. I haven’t really seen him since our break up. I mean, not privately at least, you know? He texted me on my birthday, and it was cordial, but it’s still weird.”

“Did you talk to him tonight?”

“I waved, but nothing more than that. I don’t feel like having an obviously fake and super awkward conversation in front of the press,” she shrugged.

“Uh, well he asked for you a little while ago.”

“When?” Her eyebrows shot up, and she pushed away from the railing.

“Yeah, I have a suspicion that he’s here with somebody else,” he said softly, like he was trying to break the news to her without hurting her feelings..

Her eyes widened. “I’m – I don’t –”

“It’ll be okay. Camilo’s friendly enough. I don’t think he’d cause a scene,” Nicky shook his head sympathetically. “Stay next to me. I’ll keep you preoccupied.”

“It’s not that, I just. I don’t… know what to say. Especially in front of everybody like that. I know people will zero in on us and fixate on how we talk to each other and interact,” she shook her head, gripping the railing again.

“God, especially if he’s introducing me to his new girlfriend or whatever. If I raise my eyebrows at the wrong time, they’re gonna think I’m upset –”

“Or if you scrunch your nose up like you always do,” he added.

She stared at him, mouth parted. “Hey, I know you’re not talking, Mister Grimace.”

“Mister Grimace? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You grimace when you hate something, dummy,” she laughed. “Did you really not know you did that?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Most people make faces when they hate something, Dani.”

“Not like you, they don’t!” She shook her head, still grinning. “You couldn’t pretend to like something if your life depended on it.”

He grimaced. That set her off even more, her soft laugh growing into a full blown cackle.

“You just proved my point, dumbass,” she said between gasps of breath, pointing at his crinkled nose, full lips raised into the exact face she’d been poking at him for.

“Hey, who’re you calling a dumbass? The ‘D’ in dumbass stands for Dani, if we’re being real,” he joked, his distasteful expression melting into one of adoration as he watched her laugh at his expense.

“Shut up,” she said, thrusting her arm out to playfully push him. He captured her hand underneath his own, his warm palm rough against her soft skin.

Normally, it would’ve been a light hearted gesture, because they joked with each other all the time in the villa, but in that moment, with no islanders, no cameras, no audience – those feelings they tried so desperately to repress were bubbling to the surface.

Nicky’s eyes flitted to her lips, parted in surprise at his hand covering her own. Her eyes flitted down his chest, fixating on the white button up beneath his blazer that hugged his toned chest just right.

He found his own gaze wandering down her body, the floor length dress accentuating places he normally never found himself looking at.

God, he had a full view of her near naked body every day for weeks and never thought twice about it, but now, seeing her in an elegant gown that was snug around the places that used to be exposed, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She knew she looked good, because the hair, makeup, and wardrobe people wouldn’t leave her alone until she was picture perfect. She wasn’t used to being under that kind of individual microscope, seeking the approval of rich people, like she was supposed to be one of them.

Danielle felt so out of place the entire night – until the moment Nicky stepped outside to comfort her.

“Nicky…” she breathed, the charged air between them sending an electric buzz through her limbs.

“Yeah?” he whispered, eyes half lidded, yet focused on her like she was the only person in the world.

She opened her mouth to say something, but shut it, instead glancing around the balcony and the large glass doors and windows that riddled their side of the mansion.

“Let’s get out of here,” she chewed the inside of her lip, watching his every move, hoping – praying – that he wasn’t going to reject her.

“How?”

God, she could feel the secondhand embarrassment coming on, and she glanced away from his lips, trying to come up with an excuse to explain what came over her. Her cheeks warmed, and she was thankful for the thick foundation that neutralized her blush.

“Forget it,” she said, tugging away from him.

“I didn’t say no,” he murmured, firmly holding her hand in place. “I asked ‘how?’ Do we have a plan?”

She blinked, trying to process his words.

After all those months of pretending like she’d been rid of her feelings, he’d just affirmed that he wanted her just like she wanted him.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded. “Very.”

Minutes later, after devising a quick plan to slip out the back, they were sprinting across the dewy lawn, breathless but free, sliding into the limo as soon as the driver opened the door for them.

They panted, smiles wide and skin glistening. As she watched a bead of sweat slip down his temple, the atmosphere changed, dripping with the sexual tension they never acknowledged.

Nicky was thankful the driver had already rolled the divider up, because as soon as his foot was on the gas, they were sliding closer to each other, folding under the pressure.

God, it was like the logical and emotional sides of his brain that’d been playing tug of war for so long finally snapped the rope, and everything he pretended not to notice flooded out.

There were so many things about her that he paid attention to that he figured was because they were close friends. He cursed himself for being such an idiot, because there’s no way he should’ve thought about her lips, the dimple on her left cheek, the curls that framed her face perfectly, the curve at the small of her back… a “friend” would’ve never thought about how gorgeous she was every single day.

He never betrayed Elladine, because he really did love her – but he mixed his feelings for both Elladine and Dani up. What he felt for Elladine was friendly love, like a family member or a best friend. The gravitational pull he had towards Dani should’ve never been mistaken for just friendship.

He had been falling for her day by day, but chalking it up to finding his life long best friend.

And as he searched her eyes, hand cupping her cheek, he knew he’d lucked out. He’d found both things in Dani: a partner and a best friend.

He spent weeks in a villa full of eligible women, but he demoted her before he could give her a true chance. He kicked himself in the ass for not realizing it sooner.

So when his lips met Dani’s for the first time, everything clicked into place.

They’d deal with the backlash of leaving the charity gala early. They’d deal with the press swarming them asking why he’d insisted on their friendship from the beginning. They’d deal with the onslaught of texts from the other islanders teasing them about finally getting together. They’d even deal with Elladine and Camilo later. 

But in that moment, neither of them cared, focusing on the sweet bliss that was their first kiss.

And when he pulled back to see how she was feeling, he was met with the same serene expression he knew was on his own features – they were finally on the same page.

#litg #litg s3 #litg season 3 #litg nicky #nicky horne #litg fanfic #my fic #if u dont feel like reblogging/liking i'd appreciate a kudos !! <3

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Thank You For Your Service III (M)

Pairing: Jimin x royal!reader

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst (if you can call it that)

Word Count: 24k

Warnings: Brief descriptions of a panic attack!, light bondage, over stimulation, squirting, impreg kink, all that stuff

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4

The voices in the room are deafening. People shout out in shock, panic, confusion, asking questions from where they have all stood up in order to see their fallen queen. The eyes that aren’t on you are steadfastly watching your father’s reaction and Jimin as he holds onto your dangling body.

“I have her.” His mother informs, knowing that the General in him is telling him to hurry to find the culprit before they escape, and those are the only words she can get out before Jimin reluctantly lets go of you to hunt for your poisoner.

“Doctor!” Just then, a medic arrives with a small bag, immediately ordering your mother-in-law to move you to the floor and give her space to work. She is a stern lady, not much for manners, but no one minds in the interest of saving your life. The look on her face is solid as she checks your vitals, flashing light in your eyes and grunting to herself quietly. One more sharp bark from her and everyone retreats, your father ushering your guests out of the Grand Hall with reassurances and comforting words. But the people don’t buy it and demand to know if you are well, to which he can offer no more aside from a shaky sigh before closing the doors and returning to you.

“As I suspected, she’s ingested some kind of poison. I need a pale.” The older woman states, looking up at your parents-in-law expectantly.

“A pale?”

“Yes, a bucket! Quickly!” They scramble towards the kitchen, ignoring whatever commotion is happening near the far wall of the room and return as quickly as they can, thrusting the bucket into her arms as she positions you onto your knees above it. “She’ll need water, too. And a rag.” The woman mumbles, already in the process of inserting a long wooden stick down your throat. Jimin’s mother rushes to bring all that is necessary, bursting into the kitchen once again and meeting Lilian, who is on her way out.

“What does she need?” Your loyal servant is quick to help, the worry in her eyes almost enough to bring tears to the old woman’s, but they are quickly blinked away.

“Water and a rag.” They search.

“Will this do?” Lilian holds up a pitcher of ice water and a dry dish towel, neither of them bothering to grab a glass, and run back to where you are now leaned on your side, the bucket heavy and pushed several feet away. “Here!”

They watch as the doctor checks your heartbeat from your back, pressing her fingers into your wrist and checking your breathing. Then she grabs a clean glass from the table and pours some water, squeezing in a mysterious solution before nursing it to you, using more of the icy water to dump onto the rag and fasten to your forehead.

“Well?” The King asks nervously, watching his daughter’s whitening complexion and blue lips.

“Her breathing is shallow and her pulse is getting weaker. As we can see by the color of her lips, she is not taking oxygen properly, most likely due to the poison still in her system. Pale!” Lilian grabs the bucket and drops it right in front of your face before you soil the floors, everyone looking away except for the doctor who struggles to hold your heaving body in place.

The moment Jimin leaves you in the care of his mother, his eyes are on the room. Everyone is standing now, trying to crowd around your table, and he knows he must work fast if he is to identify the villain. There is one person in mind, the servant that stood a little too close and waited on you hand and foot from the moment you sat down, and he curses himself when he thinks about it.

This is his worst fear. Everything he has been dreading for the past couple of days. He has been terrified of the thought that the two of you would be put in harms way once you were wed, but he hadn’t cared much for his own wellbeing. He only cared that he would be able to serve and protect you, something that he has succeeded in thus far from a distance, but worried that his ability to do so would be impaired by becoming a King. Choosing between two lives is a hard thing to do— especially when one of those lives, which has been a secret for so long, suddenly is joined with the other. He has never had any trouble watching out for any threats to you as a General of your armies, working from the outside and from afar. And he has never had an issue with advising you and keeping you safe as your lover. But he realizes now that presenting himself as your lover and your guardian is tougher than he could imagine. He got so caught up in being your King and entertaining you and your people that he couldn’t focus enough to assess the possible dangers or suspicious characters around you. And despite having amazing accuracy when it comes to his gut feelings, he chose to ignore it this one time and allowed himself to relax— to become careless— and now you have paid the price for it.

Jimin’s eyes move quickly as they scour the room for the man, hoping that he hasn’t already disappeared into the crowd yet, but then he spots someone with a ducked head weaving his way through the droves of noblemen on his way back to the kitchen. The only person, guest or servant, who is not curious to see what has happened. Immediately his heart jumps, blood pumping as his body moves into action, pushing past nosy nobles far more effectively than the lowly servant, and soon his fellow friends and soldiers catch sight of where he is looking, moving into position to cut him off on his way to the kitchen.

The man looks back to see the new king’s angry expression, skin bristling with fear, and it feels as if the room has gotten exponentially hotter. Like the fires of Hell closing in on him. The noise in the room gets even louder, people being ushered to the door as Jimin makes large strides toward the sure culprit, a path seeming to clear out for him, and the man scrambles to shove his way through, head on a swivel to keep his eye on his pursuer. The kitchen is only a few steps away, the swinging door inches from his fingertips, and Jimin is still a sizable distance from capturing him. Eyes locked on freedom, all he can think about is his escape through those doors and the ease he will have slipping through all of the shortcuts he’s become so acquainted with, losing the guards and the King who only know the paths of the main hallways.

The last person is pushed out of the way and the servant makes a run for it, dodging the hands of the soldiers who reach for him in a last ditch effort to capture him, and then he is through the doors and out of sight. Jimin’s heart falls when he sees this, sprinting faster to close the distance, but just as he is reaching to open the doors, they swing open and a bulky servant, a chef, walks out holding the man by his shoulders.

Grabbing the back of the villain’s neck, your husband grips him tight, yanking him away from his escape to the wall on the farthest side of the room, his soldiers in tow with the scrawny man’s arms locked in their grip. Jimin has tunnel vision now, rage fogging everything but the sight of your offender, and he wants nothing more than to hurt this man. Shoved against the hard polished walls, the criminal now begins to beg and claim innocence, stuttering over his words in an attempt to find a proper explanation.

“I-I haven’t done anything! You have the w-wrong person!” He shrieks, struggling uselessly against the strong hands that incapacitate him.

“Really? Then why was it that you were the only person fleeing?” Jimin sneers, using his forearm to press him harder into the wall.

“He has a weapon.” The guard on the right side of the man reveals, pulling a sharp peeling knife from the man’s waistband, probably a plan B if he ever got into a risky situation during his escape.

“It- That is not what you think. See, I work in the kitchen and I need-“

“You have not been to the kitchen all afternoon, do not try to play me for a fool!” Jimin hisses, muscles bulging with the force he uses to pin him down.

“Okay! Okay! But I would never hurt the Queen. I never intended to harm her!” The servant cries, tears springing from his eyes to add to his testimony as he shakes his head animatedly, and it makes the King sick. He growls deep in his chest, teeth gritting together with hatred, and this time his army-men are reaching to hold him back.

“General Park— Your Highness, you mustn’t cause intentional harm to this man before his questioning. It is the law.” His subordinate reminds gently, prepared to intervene. He watches the tick in Jimin’s jaw, well aware that he probably feels upset that he— of all people— needs to be reminded of the law, but the King’s eyes never leave his captive’s face.

“Yes, please, do not hurt me. I am sure the Queen would not approve of it.” He wavers, shaky and desperate to be free of the piercing eyes burning through him. The mention of you snaps your husband out of his trance, and he growls because how the hell would he know if you’d approve or not, but he still allows the arm digging into your servant’s chest to drop slowly to his side.

“Get him out of my sight.” The two soldiers pull the man away, hastily dragging him out of the Grand Hall to a holding cell, and Jimin follows them with his eyes until they disappear through the exit. Tunnel vision dissipating, he relocates your family on the other side of the room, standing over you with worried looks on their faces. “How is she?” He asks, panting slightly from jogging over, his heart never slowing down and instead speeding up to an unhealthy rate once he sees your ghostly complexion. Everyone remains silent to his question, staring down at you and the doctor.

“She’s been poisoned.” His mother finally answers when the woman tending to you ignores him. His frown deepens.

“Yes, but how is she now?” He tries his best to keep his voice stable, lowering his volume in the sudden quietness of the room. The doctor says nothing for several moments, checking your vitals thoroughly and listening for a heartbeat for a long time. It almost gets to the point where Jimin’s tolerance wears thin at her silence, but your father stops him from speaking. After what seems like an eternity, she looks up and sighs.

“Her pulse is very faint and it was difficult to find, but it is there.” Everyone lets out a breath, but Jimin cannot breathe comfortably yet. “Yes, she was poisoned, but I gave her a solution to expel as much of the poison as possible. For now, we can only hope and wait for her body to take care of whatever was already absorbed into her blood; and her chances look good considering how little she ingested.” Two sips. Just two sips of champagne and you are in such terrible condition. He does not want to think about what would have happened if you were to drink even a sip more.

“When-“ He swallows, almost afraid to ask. “When will she awake?”

“It is difficult to tell, it all depends on her body and how much poison was in her drink. All we can do for her now is get her out of this dress to help her breathe easier and take her up to rest.”

He volunteers to carry you, picking you up bridal style and taking you gently to your bedroom. This is not how he imagined it happening, and though the situation shows similarities to how he has always pictured taking you from your wedding, dress and all, everything is completely wrong.

It is a serene and quiet day at the castle, the only sounds audible being the subsiding rain knocking at your window. The rain brings a coolness that makes you want to burrow in your sheets, but there is a warmth at your back that keeps the chill away, which you gladly welcome. The first thing you see when you open your eyes is a plain wall, painted in your favorite shade of sunset orange, the color made dull by the haziness in your eyes. Like a fog sitting over your head, you can barely see, taking several long minutes to focus your eyes. Once it clears, you slowly turn your head—wincing at the crick in your neck— and gradually scan the room, finding your mother-in-law at the foot of your bed reading a book in the comfortable seat that is usually in the corner of your room. Redirecting your eyes to that corner, you spot boxes of belongings— Jimin’s belongings— still unopened and packed neatly aside for his relocation into your bedroom. You smile at the thought: he can finally share this space with you, sleep in the same bed without worry of being caught, keep you company on rough nights where the loneliness is overwhelming and you simply need a hand to hold to get you through the night. Turning a bit further, you locate the source of the heat behind you, finding the love of your life napping with a protective arm around your midsection, hand just under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin.

How lucky you are to have married him, to have the luxury of being able to spend your life with this man and start a family with him. King and Queen. You and Jimin. Thoughts of your wedding light up your heart as you recall the lovely reception, the beautiful décor, your unique wedding dress, the wonderful guests that came to support you and offer their love and congratulations, the wedding night you cannot seem to remember. In fact, you don’t remember anything after your father made his toast to the two of you. You remember the gifts, the food, the toast, but nothing about your first night as a married couple, nothing about spending the rest of the evening in Jimin’s arms, not even how you ending up in bed in the first place. You think hard, watching your husband’s face as if the answers were written there, and it is then that you notice the bags draped under his eyes, the pale color of his skin likely from not eating, the restless look on his face even as he sleeps.

As if your body had somehow remembered what happened on its own, you are suddenly alerted to the extreme dryness in your throat, so dry that when you try to swallow, you instead fall into a sudden coughing spell that catches the attention of everyone in the room. In the blink of an eye Jimin jolts awake, rubbing at your back as his mother runs to your side with a glass of cool water, putting it to your lips and helping you drink as you fight the mini convulsions in your chest.

“Lilian, send for the doctor!” Jimin calls when the servant rushes to your door, immediately turning on her heel to follow his orders. “Drink slowly, my love, you need to breathe.” By now he has helped you into a proper sitting position, hands never leaving you as you alternate between drinking and deep breaths, his mother refilling your glass when you have emptied it.

“It is such a relief to see that you are awake, dear.” The older woman says quietly, giving you her fondest smile when your breathing seems to calm down a bit. “You had us worried sick.”

The stern doctor from before strolls into your room just after you have finished your second glass, followed by an anxious looking Lilian who hesitates to rush the woman. “I see you are awake,” is all she says as she takes her time opening the bag she carries and removing a few instruments. Jimin watches her with a sharp eye, already irritated by her relaxed demeanor when he feels she should treat this situation with a little more urgency. But he says nothing the entire time she examines you, checking your eyes, reflexes, mouth and tongue, and pulse. At least she seems thorough. She nods to herself when she is finished, once again not speaking until prompted as if she intended to keep the information to herself.

“Is she well?” Lilian asks impatiently, looking just as annoyed as Jimin. The doctor ignores her, talking directly to you.

“Your health has improved significantly, I am almost surprised.” She says with a flat face and voice. “It looks like the poison has run its course and is mostly out of your system now, so there is no need to worry.” Poison?

“Thank the heavens.” Your mother-in-law whispers, letting out a sigh of relief.

“So... she is alright?” You husband nearly whispers as if afraid his voice could change her answer. For the first time, the lady looks him in the eyes, confirming that you are alright in a mockingly sweet voice that makes his blood boil.

“Yes, Your Highness. As I have just said, your wife is quite alright.” Despite her insolence, she does not get reprimanded, the good news enough to hold the general’s temper, and you feel his arms hug you tighter.

“I knew she would be alright, I could tell she was strong from the moment I met her.” Your second mother says aloud to no one in particular, her soothing smile relaxing both you and Jimin.

“I knew it too, I prayed as often as possible for her health. I am so happy things worked out.” Lilian gushes as she holds back tears.

“Am I allowed to walk around?” You ask, feeling an ache in your back and hips. The woman looks at you as if you have just put a hex on her entire family, showing the only expression Jimin has seen from her thus far. Her hand lands on your leg from her spot on the edge of your bed and she leans in with seriousness, squinting at you.

“Absolutely not. Do not even leave this bed without consulting me first.” She leans away slightly, loosening her grip on your thigh. “I prescribe bedrest and plenty of food and water. You are still very weak and you need time for your body to regain its strength after working so hard to rid itself of the poison. You were unconscious for nearly 5 days, your recovery should not be rushed.” It has been five days since your wedding? This detail shocks you so much that you can’t even speak at first, looking at her dumbly with wide eyes. You want to ask what exactly happened, but you fear that the woman will tell you in a way that distresses you, so you hold your tongue for now.

“Oh! That reminds me!” Lilian exclaims, scurrying out of your quarters toward the kitchen.

“Could I at least move to use the toilet?” You say meekly, looking over toward your bathroom area with a blush as you realize Lilian has probably had to take care of you while you were out. You can imagine Jimin wanting to help, but having to fake hot cheeks and shyness as if he has never seen you naked before and wants to be courteous of your privacy. The thought is almost funny considering just how intimately he knows your body— certainly better than Lilian does.

“You should not walk, you legs are too feeble. Instead, you should be lifted there and helped the entire time. Your husband seems capable, he behaves like a servant anyway.” Your eyebrows raise at her rude comment toward her new king, seemingly having no regard for his position of power, and you squeeze his hand in yours when you feel him take a breath to speak. He is used to dealing with insubordination as a general in the military, handling it as the King would be no different. But your touch restricts him.

“Is that all?” Jimin inquires, visibly trying his best not to sound too harsh when he asks the doctor to leave. She gives you a quick look up and down then nods, already packing up her things and standing from your bedside. “Then you are dismissed.” The curt tone in his voice goes over the woman’s head as she walks out, bidding you a good evening before shutting the door.

With just the three of you left in the room again, Jimin’s mother senses oncoming awkwardness. She can sense the way her son drops his guard and seems to sink, how his eyes begin to twinkle with the beginnings of wetness, and she knows she will ruin the moment if she does not leave now. With her watch duty being over upon your waking, she no longer has business in your room and she exits swiftly, mumbling something about helping Lilian in the kitchen, grabbing her book on her way out.

As soon as the door shuts behind her, you are pulled into strong arms. He lays back until you are both comfortable in bed, your face in his chest and his in your hair as he holds you in silence for a while. It feels good to be in his arms, neither of you saying anything but simply basking in each other’s warmth.

“I am so sorry.” Your King finally breathes, the shaky quality of his voice surprising you. He rarely lets you see the emotional side of him and you appreciate his transparency in this moment as tears slide down onto your shoulder. “It is all my fault.”

“Do not say that. There is no way you could have known something like this would happen, Jimin.” You try to reassure him, but you still don’t know what happened yourself.

“But it is my duty to protect you and I failed. I failed you just hours after you became my wife.” He squeezes you tighter and you rub his back, weak arms wrapped loosely around him.

“Tell me everything that happened. I want to know.” You mumble into his chest quietly, waiting for his response. He seems to tense at the realization that you have no idea what happened to you or what went on after you collapsed, and he takes a deep breath as the past few days replay in his mind.

“During our reception, my champagne glass was poisoned by a servant, and when you switched our glasses, you accidentally drank the poison and went unconscious.” He pulls back to watch your eyes widen at the news that the poison was intended for him.

“Do you... do you know who did it?” You ask, afraid that his attempted assassin may still be on the loose.

“Do not worry, I caught him before he could even escape the room and he was arrested promptly.”

“Yes, but who was it?” Your mind races to all of the names and faces of your servants, wondering who would have a motive to kill Jimin. Jimin is loved by nearly everyone in the kingdom, your servants were especially thrilled to hear that you were getting married to him, so it comes as a shock to you that anyone would go as far as attempting to poison him. You wait with bated breaths as you anticipate the name of your poisoner, heart thumping loudly in your chest with dread.

“His name is Jang Jinwoo.” Your heart stops. Not Jinwoo, the sweet man who worked in the kitchen and greeted you every time he had a chance. There have been many occasions where you had snuck away from your duties to roam the many rooms of your home and you found yourself stopping to chat with him as he completed his work. Despite being almost 10 years older than you, you got along very well with him. He was always kind, smiling brightly at you, easy to talk to. You can’t imagine that he was the one to do such a thing.

“Jinwoo? A-Are you sure?” You stutter out, not believing your ears.

“(Y/n), he has already confessed.”

“Are you absolutely certain? He could have been pressured to say something like that. Maybe he was only following orders from someone else, or maybe he was being paid to do it.” You continue to make up excuses for the man, looking at Jimin as he solemnly shakes his head at you.

“No, none of that is true. I heard it from his own mouth, (Y/n), I was the one who interrogated him.” At this you stop, looking down at your sheets. There is anger present when Jimin speaks, though it is not directed at you. He is enraged by the memory of the interrogation, having to sit there and listen to the whimpering of a coward who tried desperately to explain his case. Trying to weasel his way out of punishment. “He told me everything.”

The room is musty and dank when Jimin enters, the darkness of the cell only alleviated by a few lanterns hanging toward the back of the small space. Jinwoo sits uncomfortably on a stool at the back wall, hands bound and feet shackled to his seat with chains. Two guards stand on either side of Jimin, there as backup in case anything should happen, but they know Jimin is versed in the art of interrogation from his many years in military service. He sits on a much more comfortable chair than the prisoner, one that has taller legs and a back where he can rest comfortably, and he takes his time looking the prisoner up and down with steel eyes, leaning into his seat as if he owned the room.

“As stated by law, I am not allowed to touch you, but as a prisoner who has committed the highest treason, I am sure I would be excused for my action should you give me any reason to engage you.” The intimidation has already begun and it works beautifully, Jinwoo sinking lower on his stool under the heavy gaze of the king. “Now, things would be a lot easier if you confessed to your crimes right now, but we already know that you are the one who did it. We found the poison in a tube in your coats and seized the weapon you carried in your waistband, which is enough to incriminate you. However,” Jimin leans in menacingly, cold eyes pressing the prisoner back. “I want to know why you did it. The only reason I have left my wife’s bedside to come down here and face such filth as you is to hear from your own mouth what would possibly push you to do such a thing.”

The man says nothing, bags forming under his eyes as he looks away, sadness overtaking his features. “Is she alive?”

“You would like to know the status of the Queen?” Jimin states quietly, earning a meek nod from the prisoner. There is a pause of stillness before a guard steps in front of Jimin just as he seems like he will lunge at the man, standing and growling out how he has no right to ask questions like that. The shackled man cowers.

“Your Highness.” The other guard calls sharply, his hand on his shoulder to guide him back into his seat. “Yes, the Queen is alive.” He answers, much to Jimin’s displeasure.

“Oh God,” Jinwoo breaks down, hands coming up to his face as tears start to stream down his cheeks. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, I never meant to hurt her!” He weeps into his palms, barely mumbling loud enough for the others to hear.

“Why did you do it, then? Why would you try to assassinate her?”

“Not her, you!” The servant suddenly shouts, looking Jimin dead in the eyes for the first time. “You were the one whose glass was poisoned, not hers. But no one could have known she would switch them at the last second— I did not even have time to react.” He is reduced to tears again and the three men watching him ponder his words. Guilt washes over Jimin like a bucket of ice water and he starts to feel weak. This is exceptionally worse. It was he who was meant to fall ill to the poison; his life that should be hanging on a thread instead of yours. It feels like a jab to the gut knowing that not only did he fail to protect you, but that he is the one who indirectly put you in this situation to begin with.

It is silent for the next few minutes, Jimin watching the man sob at his own misfortune with no other thoughts running through his head but those of self-deprecation. But he must press on. He waits until Jinwoo calms down enough to speak before resuming his questioning. “Why did you aim to kill me?” His voice is softer now, though still commanding, and his face is genuinely curious.

Jinwoo stares down at his knees before speaking, his voice now void of emotion. “I would have to start from the beginning for you to be able to understand that.”

“That is why I have appeared before you today. I want to know the whole story.” The men stare at each other for a long while, tension swelling between them as Jinwoo takes on a stubborn attitude, almost as if he felt that the King was not fit to know his story. When Jimin does not back down from his narrowed gaze, he sighs, contemplating for a moment before opening his mouth to speak.

“Well, it all seems quite silly now.” He chuckles humorlessly, eyes dropping to the floor.

“What is?” Jimin implores, becoming impatient.

“Well, I have been a servant here for more than half of my life. My mother had me hired when I was barely 15 to make earnings to support my family, and I did just that, working for nobles I had never even seen before. I lived in the background, feeling unimportant as I cleaned dishes and emptied trash in that godawful backroom for years, no direction in life, just a workhorse for the family I never got to see. Then, my family home was consumed by fire in the night and everyone I worked so hard to support perished; the only people that gave me a purpose in live, vanished into thin air.

“I had no home and nowhere to go, a man in his early twenties with no skills in life but dishwashing and table setting, and I was so lost— depressed, lonely, homeless— but the King was generous enough to let me stay here and work, offering me quarters in the lower levels.”

“Does this story have a point?” Jimin interrupts, bored already with the autobiography that seemingly had nothing to do with him becoming an attempted murderer.

“You asked for me to tell you everything, Your Highness.” He mocks just to see Jimin’s blood boil. “The King’s generosity was appreciated, but I still had no purpose or reason to live. But then one day, I stumbled upon his young daughter walking the halls, dressed in her formal attire and obviously meant to be elsewhere. She looked so beautiful then, with her curious doe eyes and rosy cheeks, and when she stopped to talk to me I felt as if the world had stopped around me.” He says dreamily, remembering how you looked in your early teens, just beginning puberty and showing your defiance by skipping etiquette classes and sneaking snacks from the kitchen. “We quickly became friends and over the years I watched her mature into a gorgeous young woman with a heart of gold, one that she showed only to me. I rarely saw her even talk to other servants, I was the only one. We had something special. She went missing for a short while when her mother passed, but when she returned to me she was more radiant than ever, a queen that I had grown to love— and I could tell she loved me as well. I realized then that this was my purpose in life. She was my purpose, and I was meant to be with her no matter what.”

Jimin’s eyebrows scrunch at this. Never had you even mentioned Jinwoo to him, and it was his understanding that you had a good relationship with most of the servants of your castle, not just him. A sick feeling settles in his stomach when he imagines it: a grown man pining after a naïve preteen who had simply showed him a little kindness in passing. He watches as the man becomes increasingly more impassioned as he continues.

“If I had the chance, I would have proposed to her as soon as I found out that she was looking to marry. I saw men from all over attempt to court her, but none of them succeeded because she only had eyes for me. She loved me!” His outburst causes him to pause and regather himself, closing his eyes and grumbling quietly to himself before speaking up again. “I was confident that they would all fail— and they did— and then I would have my chance to be with My Queen forever. She disliked everyone, no one could ever compare to me in her heart, I knew this. I knew she was reserving a place for me. So you can imagine my disgust when it was announced that you were the one who would become her king. It was impossible, I thought that she only accepted you for your riches, but then I discovered that you were not wealthy. I do not know what deception you used or empty promises you made to trick her into marrying you, but I was sure she was not doing it for love.”

“That is where you are wrong.” Jimin sighs easily, watching the prisoner frown. “I did not court her like the others. I never appeared before her or the King with gifts and a proposal promising wealth or anything else of the sort. She came to me, if only by chance, and she fell in love on her own terms. I even encouraged her to find someone else, but she insisted that her heart lies with me and that there would be no other. In fact, she was the one who proposed that we be wed, and she spent weeks begging her father on my behalf. So, contrary to your beliefs, she was only doing it for love.”

Jinwoo scoffs, but does not refute it, beginning again quietly. “I thought that the engagement was strictly business and I paid you no mind for the three weeks leading up to your wedding. I was sure that her heart was mine, hopeful that she would come back for me and profess her love. I was willing to keep our relationship a secret for as long as necessary just so I could have her, but I was wrong. Everyday last week there was an event, and the two of you were inseparable. I thought she was just an amazing actress and could pretend to love you in front of crowds, but even when you were alone, I saw her holding your hand, kissing you, being in love with you. It made me sick to witness it, but I held onto hope that it was all fake, that the woman who had given me purpose and a will to live would return to me.

“The last straw was when I saw you just two nights ago, while I was washing dishes in a back room. It was almost like I could feel her near me, sense her presence, and when I turned around, there she was, illuminated by the light like an angel, passing slowly by the doorway. There was no reason for her to be on that side of the castle, especially on a night like that, and for once I believed that the heavens had finally shined down upon me and granted me my wish. But then I saw you behind her, holding her hand.” He looks up at the King slowly, hatred flooding his irises, and it is almost enough to make a shiver crawl down his spine despite having encountered greater evils than this. “I could not contain my anger, I wanted to attack you right then and there, but I quickly remembered that you are an army man who could easily overpower me, so I held back. My hands were shaking so much that I dropped the plates I was cleaning, and my heart was aching so much that I did not care.

“That is what was so silly, General. My life is the punchline!” He chuckles again, answering Jimin’s question from earlier. “She does not love me, she was never going to come back for me to begin with! What I thought was the meaning of my life was all a lie. And it is all because of you!” A deranged look enters his face as he continues to laugh, tears spilling out of his eyes as he does so. The two guards look at each other nervously over Jimin’s head, wondering if they should do something about him, but Jimin seems composed so they wait it out with him. Jinwoo’s laughter dies down quickly, replaced by an empty look in his eyes. “It was then that I decided I wanted to kill you. You must understand, I did this out of love. It is all because I love her so very much that I could not stand to see her be with someone else. Not even if that person makes her smile more brilliantly than I have ever seen. She belongs with me and I would be a fool to just give her away to someone else.”

“So where did you get the poison?” Jimin ponders, wanting to finish this quickly after hearing how delusional this man really was.

“A street vendor sold it to me. I bought it that same night I saw the two of you together. I was still hesitant about going through with my plan during the reception, but when I saw you kiss her and the love in her eyes when she looked at you, I knew that I had no choice but to do it. It is a potent mixture, strong enough to put down a bull, and I poisoned your champagne with nearly half the vile. I did not expect it to be so fast acting, I hoped you would not feel the effects until after you had gone through the entire glass, but I suppose I am thankful that was not the case or else my beloved would not still be living.” He shows shame then, his eyes back on the ground, and seeing him look remorseful throws fuel into Jimin’s fire again. “As I said, I never meant to harm her, she is the entire world to me. When you see her, please tell (Y/n) I’m-“

“Do not say her name.” Your husband hisses with an aggression that even startles his fellow guards. “I do not owe you any favors- in fact, you are lucky I am letting you live now. If it were up to me, you would have been beheaded before the sun went down tonight. But soon you will be sentenced by the High Court and you will be punished justly.” He makes his exit hastily, followed by his comrades that unshackle Jinwoo and lock him in his cell securely.

“So you see, he did this because of me. And I had a gut feeling that something would happen and I did nothing about it. I was not cautious enough and it is because of that that you drank poison from my glass and nearly died.” Jimin practically whispers, holding back more tears. You take in all that he has told you, thinking hard for a moment before smiling gently.

“Then, it is my understanding that I saved your life, correct?” You state proudly, looking into his widened eyes.

“W-What?” He’s confused by your sudden conclusion, not sure what he expected you to say.

“You love champagne and have a tendency to drink quickly. Had I not taken the glass from you, you would have gulped down the poison and perished right before my eyes, therefore, I saved your life. If two tiny sips had the ability to do this to me, I do not even want to think of what would have happened to you if I had not come to the rescue.” You’re grinning cockily now, watching your lover mull over your words.

“Yes, but... had I been more vigilant, this would not have happened. I was an ignorant fool for letting my guard down and I do not deserve to-“

“Stop insulting my husband. You have no right to say such things about him.” You interrupt, giving him a stern look and watching as his eyebrows smooth out with surprise. “You know better than to spew nonsense from that handsome mouth of yours. You are a King, not a superhuman; there is no way you could have known things would end up this way.”

“My love,” He sniffles, eyes welling with tears again. “I cannot help but feel guilty. My top priority as a King is to protect my Queen. I have devoted my life to serving and protecting you from harm, yet I was the one who nearly got you killed.” Your hand raises to his cheek, wiping away a tear as it hesitantly makes its way down to his chin.

“And I thank you for your service, but as a married couple, we must protect each other. I know how important it is for you to be there to save everyone, but it is okay to let me watch over you too sometimes. Let me be your hero for once. It, too, is my duty to look out for you and save you from harm, even if I must save you from yourself at times.” His bottom lip quivers and you can’t help but reach up and kiss it, admiring how soft they are even in their chapped state. “And look, I am fine. I am still here with you, breathing and alive, am I not? I think this is the best way this situation could have turned out.”

He says nothing after this, eyes roaming your face and the happy smile that scrunches your features, taking in every single centimeter of your expression to burn it into his memory. He’s seen it countless times— your smile, that is— yet he feels as if he’d taken each one of those times for granted. Seeing you lay expressionless for the past 5 days without knowing if you would regain consciousness was terrifying for him and the one thing that kept running through his head was the thought of not being able to see you smile again. Oh, how he missed it. Now, he appreciates your grin even more, overjoyed to be able to see it once more, but he does not understand how you can smile after learning the circumstances that landed you here. But, he has always known you to be optimistic.

After holding each other for a little while longer, you feel as though you should try to return to normalcy to relieve some of the tension in the air. Looking up at him, you take in his tired face and drooping eyes, frowning at the sight. “You look terrible.” You mumble, eyebrows knit together.

“You do not look so glamorous yourself, My Queen.” He shoots back with a playful raise of his eyebrow, although he thinks you still look absolutely gorgeous for someone who has just been in a coma.

Lilian reenters with a knock holding a tray of food, announcing that there is a plate for Jimin, who has refused to eat while you were recovering. She takes her time setting up, helping you sit against your headboard and sitting down your plates.

“As your wife,” You proudly proclaim, feeling bubbles of joy build in your chest at the realization. “It is also my duty to worry about your health. Have you been taking care of yourself, My King?” At the squint of your eyes, Jimin blushes. Whether from the term of endearment or the adorable look on your face, he does not know.

“Hardly.” Lilian replies under her breath with a snicker, recalling how she nagged Jimin to take care of his own needs and even offering to help as his own servant now, but being flatly rejected and sent away each time. He glares at her from the side of his eye at her chuckling, silencing her quickly.

“As of late, no. I have been too busy looking after you.”

“Unacceptable. How do you expect to look after me if your own body is not taken care of, hm? Have you eaten? You look pale.”

“I have not had the stomach to eat these few days.” He admits, assuring you that he is fine, but at the mention of food his stomach growls loudly, causing you to giggle.

“Well, I am awake and well now, so you have no more excuses. Heavens, if I did not know better, I would think it were me who has to nurse you back to health.” You laugh, Lilian joining in with a shake of her head as she situates food in front of both of you. The atmosphere is amazingly light, you cracking jokes and doting on Jimin whenever you get the chance, and he has to say that this is very different from what he expected. He thought that you would be a little more upset with everything that went on, but you seem fine. As if nothing happened and everything is as it should be. But he understands that you may not want to stress yourself out at this moment, so he plays along while keeping a watchful eye on you.

Visitors began appearing in your room the next day after news of your awakening spread throughout the land. Your father spent almost the entire afternoon with you for the first time since your mother’s death, and though he never said it, you know he was terrified of losing you too. Other visitors included your closest servants, each of them bringing with them gifts and promises to take care of your every need while you are recovering, both of Jimin’s parents (his father shedding more happy tears when he sees you are okay), a few family friends that lived nearby, and your best friend Seokjin. Slowly, they began to fill you in on the happenings of your kingdom, informing you that everything remains stable despite you and Jimin’s absence since your father has taken up some of the responsibilities that needed immediate attention.

Upon hearing that Jimin had missed nearly all of his first meetings as a royal because of you, you start to feel guilty and urge him to leave you to take care of his duties. Becoming a King takes training, and you don’t want him to slack off just because you are ill.

“It is fine, My love. Everything can be postponed.”

“But these are important attendances that will set up the rest of your rule over this land. You must meet with neighboring nations and the powerful nobles of our own kingdom, go to your classes to learn law and etiquette, address our people-“

“Do not concern yourself with such trifles. Everything is taken care of.” Jimin whispers, kissing your knuckles when he takes you by the hand. He can sense how useless you feel, wanting to live vicariously through him by listening to him explaining his first errands as a King, but instead he has been with you whenever he can, both of you becoming bored in your room.

“I am the one who is bedridden, not you.”

You begin looking for anything to do that is of importance, noticing how everyone seems to keep you out of the loop on bigger issues that may cause you any stress. The doctor said to avoid anything that may cause your blood pressure to rise, but being ignored as if you were not the queen of this nation is having the opposite effect. Not even Jimin will tell you things that he knows, and you know he is kept up-to-date on any and all drama within your borders because of his new title, and you are starting to feel betrayed because of the secrecy surrounding you. But you know who to get information out of, and that is exactly who you aim for once you are left alone with him.

“Seokjin,” You call sweetly in between his exaggerated stories about something shiny he has acquired from a neighboring nation. “What is the status of Jinwoo’s trial?” You know to present it as if you already know something about it, though you aren’t even sure if he has stood trial yet, but Seokjin’s answer confirms this.

“His trial? That ended yesterday, if I am correct.” He replies without even looking up from the jewelry he seems obsessed with that hangs from his neck.

“Has the High Court made a decision yet?” He looks up at you then, and you get nervous, fidgeting in your spot on your bed. “It’s just that I have not been caught up fully on the proceedings. Everyone has seemed so busy lately.”

“Hmm, yes. Then you must not have heard. The High Court has made the decision to convict him of high treason for the attempted murder of the King, but they have not sentenced him yet.” He stops playing with his accessories, looking seriously at you in a way that makes your heart speed up. “They have agreed that since you are the Queen, and also a victim, they will leave it up to you to sentence the criminal to a punishment. You may discuss it with them, but the decision is ultimately yours.”

Your heart skips a beat at this, the weight of the words settling in your chest, and you sigh. This is what you wanted, right? To have something meaningful to do instead of rotting away in this bed, correct? But this is almost overwhelming. Jinwoo’s sentencing is easily the most important thing happening in your kingdom right now, and it makes sense for it to be decided so soon— they can’t keep him in a holding cell forever— but you are not completely sure you are ready for it. This is probably why no one has told you about it yet.

“Oh,” Is all you can say, unable to keep your face straight in front of your friend. He sees the furrow of your eyebrows and realizes his mistake, moving closer to you to put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“But do not worry, (Y/n), the High Court is willing to wait until you are healthy again before they make the public announcement. That means you have time to think about it, so please try not to stress yourself out too much over this.” His words are reassuring, but you’re beginning to feel like a burden, so you put on a brave face and make up your mind.

“No, I must do it quickly,” You declare, although your words to him are nothing official. “A trial such as this one should be quick and final, yet it has already been almost a week. I should make my decision within the next few days.”

“With respect, Your Highness, but do not be rash. Take the time that has been given to you, there is no need to rush.”

“Then do you think I should wait another week before this man knows his fate? To put the biggest case in this kingdom’s recent history on hold just because I will not be able to appear in full health?” You challenge.

“I think it would be unnecessary and quite impulsive to rush into such a big decision. The man is a criminal who tried to kill your husband and you are worried about the amount of suspense and anxiety he will feel after waiting in his cell for a week?” He scoffs. “All I am willing to say is that the most important person here is you, and your health and needs take top priority over all else. It is entirely your decision, but do not be afraid to be selfish. Take it from me, the most narcissistic person you know.”

Leave it to Seokjin to give you an honest answer. You do not discuss the topic any further, thinking of his words even after he leaves, and you keep everything to yourself when Jimin returns from his meeting with your father. He is unaware that you now know the weight of your responsibility, but he can see it pulling on your face, tired lines appearing under your eyes, so he makes sure you receive no more visitors before tending to you and helping you to bed early.

It is not until the third day after waking up that you are formally told about the sentencing, two days since Seokjin had informed you of it, and you announce to the members of the High Court that you are ready with your judgment. The older men seem surprised when you say this, staring at your frail body in your wheelchair as you confidently state that you want to address Jinwoo as soon as possible. Jimin is just as shocked as the others when he hears this, trying to convince you to take time to think about it, just as Seokjin had, but in the end you remained steadfast in your words. That night, you discussed your options and made a final decision that you were confident in. It was settled, you would sentence Jinwoo publicly tomorrow afternoon.

Despite wanting to support you, Jimin was concerned. You seemed happy as always, as if nothing was wrong, but he knew that you must be hiding your true emotions. As a General, he has brought in many prisoners and seen many trials, and the sentencing is never easy. The person who makes the final decision is never happy, even if the person deserves what is coming to them, and even he could feel the heaviness of holding that power every time he witnessed it. This was not supposed to be easy on you, especially since the punishment would almost certainly be one of the harshest ones you could give, but you showed zero signs of dread. At least not outwardly. He kept a close watch on you, giving you many opportunities to talk to him about what you may be feeling, but you repeatedly told him that you were fine, the same smile crossing your lips every time. But at night, he could tell you could not sleep, and he held you extra tight in silent comfort.

Silver lighting streams into the courtroom from the high windows, almost like a spotlight illuminating the platform on which your offender will stand. People sit in rows on all sides of the room, watching the proceedings from their mahogany benches as if this were a theatre performance. The members of the High Court enter first, taking their seats behind a raised panel on the north facing wall of the room, looming over the people like vultures. Jinwoo is the next to enter the packed room, walking with tiny steps and a lowered head as the people around him begin to murmur, all with cold eyes following him all the way to his stand. There is a long pause as guards begin to line the entrance, commanding all of your people to rise before a trumpeter begins blowing out the short royal tune.

“All rise, for the entrance of His and Her Majesty.” You cannot help the flood of anxiety that washes over you when the door opens for you. This is your first time appearing in front of your people as King and Queen, and although you have stood before your kingdom on many occasions, the spotlight has never been on you like it is now. A guard pushes your wheelchair forward and into the courtroom, and immediately the temperature feels stifling. Your palms sweat when you come into view, your eyes landing on the man standing at the center of the room— the man you believed was a sweet servant with not a single bad intention in his heart, your friend of many years— and you begin to feel sick. Not from guilt, but from disgust. Facing him for the first time after the incident is harder than you thought it would be. Anger builds up in your throat when he looks at you with pleading eyes, as if he could appeal to a more sensitive side of you, but all it does is make you want to be all the more ruthless.

“Are you okay, my love?” Jimin whispers from where he walks beside you. He has noticed the way you have been staring down the culprit and how tightly you grip the arms of your chair, and it worries him just slightly. His own rage has not subsided toward the man, but he is more concerned about you in this moment. You nod, eyes finally shifting to the faces in the crowd, and even though the room is quiet, you can see people whispering to each other, a look of pity on their faces as they gaze upon you. This is one of the reasons you wanted to rush this appearance— to face your people while you were still fragile and in need of assistance. Traditionally, a royal is encouraged to put on the strongest image possible when confronting the kingdom, but you wanted them to see how you truly looked and empathize with you and your king. Not that they were not already on your side.

Taking one of your hands, the two of you complete your journey to your designated spots, looking down at the room with unreadable eyes. The air is tense surrounding you, the heat remaining stationary instead of its usual swirling, and you can tell by the sweat on his brow that it feels like the 9th circle of Hell for Jinwoo.

“As it is quite hot here, we will proceed quickly for Her Majesty’s good health.” The old man seated next to you declares with a projecting voice that startles you. It has begun. “After concluding the trial this week, the punishment for the crimes of Jang Jinwoo have been determined. He has been imprisoned following his confession to the attempted murder of King Park Jimin and the accidental poisoning of the Queen, as well as the unauthorized possession of a weapon around royalty during a public event. The consequences of his crimes have been discussed and finalized by the Queen herself, who will now announce her decision.”

All eyes fall onto you, and the anxiety in your chest dissolves almost instantly as you lock gazes with the man in the center of the room again. His chest heaves as he looks at you, seeming so incredibly nervous that it’s almost laughable, and you fight the scowl that inches onto your lips. Unable to stand properly, you sit up straighter, taking a moment to gather your thoughts and hold suspense, everyone watching you with wrapt attention. Jimin’s hand covers your own as it rests on your knee, and it gives you the strength to speak.

“Jang Jinwoo, you are the most wretched human being I have ever encountered on this earth.” The room is taken aback by your words, never having heard you speak in such a hateful way. “You claim to have acted over the influence of love, but the choices you have made in this life are solely of your own will. Not only have you physically harmed me, but you have scarred this nation and the people I hold dearest to my heart. You turned what would have been the happiest day of my life thus far into a day that my husband and I will look at forever as a day of uneasiness and terror. A day where the kingdom almost lost its matriarch before her rule had even begun. As for the physical aspect of your actions, I believe you should know the struggles I have been forced to endure this past week. First, I slipped into a coma that lasted for nearly five days and nights, during which my other faithful servants were forced to care for me as if I were a newborn baby. After awaking, I found myself weak and unable to care for myself still, bound to the confines of my bed like a prisoner chained within a cell— the only times I was allowed to leave being when I was carried to the toilet or bath where I had to be helped without pause.” The tears start to flow over Jinwoo’s cheeks at the mention of your struggles, the only other emotion he has shown in days aside from the embarrassment of being displayed in a courtroom. “In these days I lost my dignity as a self-assured Queen, one who always was too proud to use her servants and instead did everything on my own will. Because of you, I must swallow pills and vitamins several times a day to rid myself of the effects of your poison. Because of you, my husband nor I could complete the duties expected of a new King and Queen. And because of you, I could not spend my first days as a married woman happily like I had so dreamed of.”

He is openly sobbing now, shame and guilt sitting heavy on his shoulders as his tears drip to the floor. You wished he would stop pretending like he is sorry for what he did because you know he is not; he is only sorry about the effect his actions had on you. If he had succeeded in his plans and killed Jimin, you have no doubt that you would not have seen a shred of guilt on his face as he stood before you. His eyes drop to the ground as you go on, listing the hardships you have gone through and how hurt you were to see your family look so scared and worried on your behalf, but you want him to look into your eyes and truly hear what you are saying to him.

“Look at me!” You command, a bass coming into your voice that surprises even you. All of the spectators have tears in their eyes from listening to your story, and you know you have their support. But when Jinwoo looks up at you, you hesitate a little. He looks so genuinely sorry for you just like everyone else, and your mind flashes back to the man you befriended all those years ago. An empathetic, sensitive man who was so good at listening to your problems even when he could not relate. But then his eyes move ever so slightly to the man sitting next to you with his hand in yours and his eyes turn icy again. He and Jimin stare at each other for what feels like an eternity before you repeat your command, and all hesitance drains from your body once again. “Although your right to speak has been stripped from you, I will give you one more chance to appeal to me. I would like to hear the words from your own mouth before I give you your final sentencing.”

The members of the High Court and Jimin all turn to you, shocked that you would do such a thing at the last moment. The rules state that a criminal facing sentencing is not allowed to address superiors in any way while on the stand, especially not before his punishment is announce, yet you have just given him the grounds to do exactly that.

“Your Highness, you must not let him appeal-“ The old man immediately to your right begins, but you stop him.

“There is no way in Hell that he could ever change my mind, no matter what he says. You can be sure of that.” You whisper, giving Jimin’s hand a squeeze when his eyes linger on your profile, your straight face telling him that you are completely certain. “Speak.”

“I never held any intentions of hurting you and my mistake is the biggest regret of my life, you must know that. My love for you is greater than anything else in this world and I would do anything for you. This is why I beg of you,” Spectators murmur words of disgust at his words, their faces wrinkled in hate and disbelief, but yours remains plain. “My Queen,” The pitiful man snivels with a tremor in his voice, “please execute me. What I have done is unforgivable and I cannot live in good conscience with my deeds. Please.”

His twinkling eyes search yours, hoping that you could feel his sincerity through the thick air. It is quiet for a while before you let out a long sigh.

“That is exactly why I cannot pardon you from this earth. That would be far too easy. I sentence you 100 years in prison to reflect upon your choices and relive the guilt you feel now everyday for the rest of your life.” Your face remains blank, but a tornado of emotions rages behind the mask. If he had aimed to take your life instead, maybe you would have been more lenient. But since he intended to take from you the person that means the most to you in this world, damning you to a life of sorrow and loneliness, you cannot let him off so easily. You need him to understand that what he attempted to do would have caused much more damage than he’d realize, and now he had all the time in the world to think about it.

His face falls at the sudden news, none of what you have said sinking in until it is announced that your word is final and that he will serve his time beginning immediately after he leaves the court. People around the room gasp and sigh, some of them cheering at his punishment and others complaining that you should have put him to death. You look at Jimin and he immediately reads the exhaustion in your expression, motioning to a guard that it is time to make your exit.

“No. No! My Queen, please! I do not deserve it. I do not deserve to live on this earth with you! Have mercy! Take my life!” He begins to shout, guards holding him back as he struggles against his shackles desperately like a caged animal.

“You do not deserve my mercy.” You say calmly, finally allowing your guard to roll you out of the room, Jinwoo’s voice still echoing behind the door amidst the chaos slowly engulfing the sweltering room.

Everything seems to happen quickly after that, and before you know it, you are back in your bedroom where the doctor awaits. She checks your health and feeds you your pills, instructing you to rest in bed and try to get some sleep after having such an eventful afternoon, and then she and the guard make their departures, leaving you and Jimin alone.

He watches you for a few minutes after helping you get changed and making sure you are comfortable in your sheets, and the longer your face remains blank, the more he worries. Your expression is familiar to him and it brings him back to one instance in particular: where your father had ordered him to gather his troops and investigate the group of soldiers nearing your kingdom’s borders— and to engage in battle if they seemed to have dangerous intentions. You felt as though it was unnecessary to start battles with soldiers from another nation, fearing that it would lead to war if everything turned out to be a misunderstanding, and most of all, fearing for the life of your lover. Since he would only be taking a relatively small group of men, you knew he might be at a disadvantage and you begged your father not to send him out on the mission. That was the first time you had ever challenged your father while he was giving orders, and Jimin was impressed by your courage and professionalism as you kept it together long enough to get your points across. In the end, your father denied your requests and sent him to the borders anyway, and your face fell back into the same blank expression you hold now. It’s the expression you make when you want to seem unaffected in front of others as you hide the pain away in your heart.

“My love,” He calls softly as you stare into space. “(Y/n).”

“Yes?” When you turn to him, your eyes still appear unfocused.

“I must return downstairs to oversee the transfer of the prisoner, but Lilian will be nearby if you need anything while I am gone. How are you?” He leaves the question open ended for you to respond in whichever way you see fit, either about your physical or mental status, but you give him an equally vague answer.

“I am fine.” And that same forced smile. He stares for a while longer before sighing and standing up, promising to hurry back as fast as he can.

A claustrophobic feeling settles in the room once he leaves, almost imperceptible at first, the walls closing in on you little by little with every breath you take. It’s quiet here, a stark contrast to the noise of the courtroom, but the silence is almost deafening behind the increasing rhythm of your heart and breathing. Your fingers fumble a bit when they reach up to undo the clasp in your hair, taking a few moments to properly squeeze the clip and release it from your locks enough for you to pull it away, and it is only when a few of the strands snag that you realize that your hands are trembling. Not just your hands, but your whole body seems to shake like a leaf in the breeze.

Looking around the room, you try to ground yourself, taking deep breaths and attempting to focus on an object in the corner, but suddenly your eyes aren’t as clear as you expected and the room seems to sway in a nauseating swirl that makes you feel sick. A droplet of sweat skims down your neck and absorbs into your collar, the humidity from the room making it harder to breathe even when you are panting like this, eyes flickering back and forth from the wrinkles on your bedsheets to the tightening warm colored walls that close in on you steadily— the orange glow seeming to actually emit heat like the summer sun as they near, aiming to cook you inside your sweaty, shaking shell.

Your bed turns hard beneath your legs, the smooth silk like hot metal sheets against your skin, but you can’t move away from the burn because the heavy weight of them traps your legs in like a vice. Scenes from a few minutes ago are fresh in your brain, playing over and over again until it feels like it is happening all over again right in front of you and the noise is in this very room, the wrinkles of the blankets the rows of people in seats, the shadows the eyes of everyone who watched you give the sentencing coldly, the chill of your words sending a shiver down your spine and you can feel your chest start to hurt with the thudding, thumping, banging, pounding of your heart in its cage and the numbness in your fingertips and toes starting to spread throughout your limbs, and Oh God you feel like you are going to die if you do not leave this room Right Now. Either die or vomit, but you do not want to stick around long enough to find out.

Despite your muscles from being weak from over a week of disuse, you are carried onto your feet by the surge of adrenaline that came when the four corners of your room began to squeeze at your sides menacingly, forcing you out of bed and out of the room faster than you could think. The guard that usually stands watch at your door is startled when it flies open, revealing your disheveled appearance as you pull at the sticky material of your gown that chokes around your neck. He opens his mouth and speaks to you, but you can’t hear a word over the panic in your head, telling you to move far away from this place, and you smack his hands away when he reaches to help you on your unsteady legs.

“Do not follow me.” You snap, stumbling along the hall, vaguely hearing his steps behind you before you stop once more. “That is an order!” You have no idea how your voice sounds, or whether or not it came out at all, but he does not follow you any further as you turn the corner and begin to run on autopilot.

Not even 5 minutes have gone by before Jimin is notified about your disappearance. He had just about wrapped up all he needed to supervise in regards to Jinwoo— which he made sure went absolutely flawlessly because of how closely everyone was being watched by him— so there was not a second of hesitation when he received word of your episode.

“What do you mean she is gone?” He asks the guard, already speeding back in the direction of your room.

“She seemed quite disoriented when she walked out but would accept none of my help or advise.” The man muttered, out of breath from running to find the king and keeping up with his fast walking pace.

“You did not follow her?”

“She ordered me not to.”

“Even so-“ Jimin holds his tongue as he climbs the stairs to the second floor, knowing that a castle soldier would never disobey direct orders from the Queen herself. He is worried about you for a number of reasons, but he knows that being irrational will not help matters. Lilian is the first person he sees when he turns down your corridor, her thin form leaping to stand before him.

“She still has not returned, but I did not want to search for her yet without your permission.” She blurts, eyes round and nervous as she fiddles with her apron. “Where could she have gone? The castle is so large!”

Where would you possibly go? Jimin thinks for a moment before turning on his heel, starting down the hall suddenly. When Lilian calls after him, he responds with orders for her and the guard to take the rest of the night off because you will likely not want to be around people when you return. They take this as a sign that he knows where you are and leave it up to him, watching his back as he rushes away.

It all happened so quickly the first time you brought him here, he was barely paying attention to his surroundings as you pulled him along giddily, but now he feels confident as he follows his gut and navigates the twist and turns of the palace. His feet lead him past the cleaning room where you both encountered Jinwoo on the eve of your wedding and he forces himself to keep walking when a brief flashback almost brings him to a halt. Jimin breaks into a jog the nearer he gets to the room, his heart pounding with worry for your health, but the fact that he has not found you collapsed along the way means that you made it there okay. Or that he is completely wrong about your whereabouts and you are truly lost to him in the maze of your home. He dispels the second thought with a shake of his head.

“My Queen,” His relief is immediate when he spots you, your hands and head pressing into the aged wood of the giant doors to your secret library. Jimin approaches cautiously when you do not respond to his initial call to you, but that changes when he notices the shaking of your arms and legs as you struggle your weight against the barrier to no avail. “Please do not push yourself like this, I beg of you.” His hands wrap around your waist to steady you. “What are you doing here?”

“I-I-I felt s-so trapped in that damned room, I could not take it anymore! I w-wanted to- to come here but I am too weak to open these fucking doors! I keep pushing and pushing but they just will not budge!!” The emotion and shakiness of your voice breaks Jimin’s heart, but what really crushes him is the fact that you keep smacking his hands away when he tries to stabilize you. He isn’t sure if you even recognize that it is him yet because of the way you are too busy looking up at the doors with frantic eyes and frantic breathing, never once looking up at him.

“Let me help you.” He says softly, continuing to reach for your midsection despite you slapping at his arms. You keep rambling about the door and how it must be stuck or something, your sweat soaked skin making prints on the dark wood as you lean against it. “I am here to help you, let me help you open the door.” He repeats as gently as possible until you finally hear him and nod, your body remaining in its position. Making sure you are okay with it, he slowly pushes the doors open, and once they are cracked wide enough, you fall into the room and onto your knees, sucking in deep gulps of the dusty air to catch your breath.

He slowly lowers himself to the ground next to you, testing your comfort level with a hand on your shoulder before moving it to rub against your back. It takes several minutes for your breathing to calm down while he watches you, remembering how you told him this was the safest place in the world to you. You think back to the time when you first discovered this room and your mother helped you open these heavy doors all those years ago. She was so kind back then, smiling at you and teaching you all about this room with her hand on your back. Jimin’s touch reminds you of that, and you use the feeling to calm yourself down, breathing as if this was the only place in the palace that contained breathable air. Your mind clears after some time, and you finally look up to see your husband looking at you with a gentle smile, trying to hide the anxiety in his eyes, and you fall apart.

“Jimin,” You whimper. Launching yourself into his arms, you begin to cry with body racking sobs, the tears feeling hot on your cheeks. He says nothing as he holds you, only shushing you and rubbing your hair, accepting his place as your rock as you melt against him; but he’s sure you can feel how hard his heart is beating in his chest from seeing you in this condition. You have never shown him this side of you, never needed to, so he isn’t completely sure how to handle the situation. He has always known you to be the positive thinker, the one who cheers him up when all he can think of is gloom, and he supposes he just assumed you never had moments like these. But even the sun is shadowed with clouds at times. There must be a million emotions floating around in your head, and by trying to suppress them, they’ve only collected before spilling out all at once.

“What is the matter, beautiful?” Jimin asks when you seem to be at a point where you can speak. He ignores the front of his shirt as it sticks to him with wetness.

“I know I should not feel guilty, but I feel like such a terrible person.” You hiccup into the fabric, resting your forehead against his chest. It is obvious what you are referring to, he needs no context.

“You have done nothing wrong, Love.”

“Then why do I feel this way? Not that I am insensitive to the attempt on your life, but I cannot help but feel as if I have committed a crime by giving a man a life sentence of confinement and self-torture. Is this what justice is supposed to feel like?” You sniffle. He sighs into your hair, arms tight around you.

“I cannot tell you how to feel, but I would not expect you to be joyful after making such a heavy decision. Even if he deserves it, it never feels good to end a life, figuratively or literally.” He pulls you away from his chest by the shoulders to look you in the eyes, but you attempt to cover your face with your hands. You hate when people see you cry, it’s embarrassing. But Jimin has seen more of you than anyone else, so you don’t fight it when he takes your hands in his and moves them away. “Everyone copes with their emotions differently, but I will always be here for you when you need me. Someone wise and beautiful once told me that, as a married couple, we must protect and watch over each other, and also that we sometimes need to be saved from ourselves; however, I am beginning to realize that it is you who saves me more often than not. I have never done anything significant for you compared to all that you do for me, so as your husband I am making a vow to always be there to save you from yourself and come to your aid, even when you pretend that everything is okay.”

“I am sorry I lied when you asked me if I was okay. I am obviously not fine.” You apologize bowing your head. “Did I at least appear stable in front of the court?”

“As stable as a horse.” He grins at his pun. “I am very proud of the way you kept yourself so composed in the courtroom in front of your people like a true Queen. I only wish you were not so good at hiding how you feel from me.”

“Your presence next to me during the sentencing was the only thing that helped me through it. I wanted to fall into your arms the moment we entered our bedroom, but I thought it inappropriate to cry in sympathy for the man who tried to hurt you and force you to console me. You did not know him personally and I know how angry you were after questioning him, so it would be unfair to show sympathy toward him in front of you.”

“Regardless of my personal feelings, I will always be willing to hear your woes and pains. I was only hurt by your inability to trust that.”

A shame falls over you, though it was not his intention, and your head lowers. “In hindsight, I would be upset with you if you kept your pain from me, too.” There is a period of quiet where you let your words soak in. He knows you understand his viewpoint, there is no need to dwell on it further.

“From this point forward, let us both be completely truthful and open with everything. Just as you confided in me with the knowledge of this room, we will keep no secrets between us. Promise me.” Jimin stares into your damp eyes until you relent, promising him your honesty and trust in him, and you know your words have been heard by the walls and etched into the details of each bookcase, an unbreakable swear that you will both hold true to. This place, this room, is yours to share, and at the very least you will confide in him here, where only his ears may hear your whispers.

You’ve calmed significantly since he first found you, and the way you softly look back at him in this moment makes him ache. He loves you so much that it hurts, and despite it being a week since your wedding, he still cannot believe you officially belong to each other. With your puffy, red eyes decorated by dewy lashes clumped together, pouty pink lips, and stained cheeks, you still look gorgeous as ever, and he admires just how wonderful you are on the inside, too. You have the biggest heart of anyone he knows and he doesn’t blame Jinwoo for falling in love with you, it isn’t difficult. Jimin would truly do anything for you. And he knows you would do the same for him.

“Do not ever doubt my love for you, My Queen, I will forever remain at your side.”

“And I, at yours.” You reply in a whisper, closing your eyes to savor the kiss he presses to your brow. You shift in your seated position, the hardwood cutting into your knees uncomfortably, and Jimin is reminded of your current health.

“Come, My Love, I must return you to bed. You need to res-“

“No!” You protest quickly, though it comes as a gasp. “My health is fine. I do not- must I return so hastily? I am not yet ready to be confined again.” The frightened look and quickening of your breaths gives Jimin pause and he recalls the words you spoke to your prisoner. He had no idea you thought of your bedroom as a jail cell during your recovery. He did not notice how uncomfortable you seemed at all hours, not resting well at night and remaining fidgety throughout the day, and he sympathizes with you.

“We could stay here if you so please. I understand that this is your safe place and I am willing to stay with you for as long as you wish.”

“Jimin,” You say, raising a hand to his cheek. “You are my safe place. As long as we are together...” There’s no need for you to finish your sentence, he already knows what you mean.

“Then I would follow you to the ends of the earth if your heart so desired. It is all up to you.” He smiles at the thoughtful look on your face that morphs into a smirk.

“What a coincidence, I was planning to journey there in the coming week.” You joke. “But for now, my heart desires to travel somewhere more local.”

“Such as?”

“The flower garden. I would like to visit our bench.” For some reason, your cheeks begin to heat. Maybe it is from the way Jimin has hearts in his eyes when you say this. Or maybe it is from the flashes of memory you experience from your first time with him atop the white painted wood.

“Then, to the gardens we shall go. Allow me to escort you, My Queen.” He’s just as formal as ever, kneeling in front of you and motioning for you to climb onto his muscular back, his strength never ceasing to amaze you when he stands with ease as though you weigh nothing. Your arms drape over his shoulders as he walks, your chin pressed tiredly to the muscle, and you can’t help but breathe in his scent. Jimin smells of sweat and musk due to the heat and stress of the day, but there is a hint of sweet hidden there that is distinctly him. The smell is woven into his expensive clothes and every strand of his sleek hair, and you melt into it all, feeling totally at ease as he bears your weight through the palace. It’s not as if your grievances have just disappeared into thin air, but being with him doesn’t offer some relief to your internal suffering.

The air outside isn’t much less humid than inside, but the slight breeze that whispers past occasionally is nice. It’s a beautiful day and it takes your mind off of today’s events, even if just for a moment. Your walk through the flower paths is a slow one, neither of you saying much, simply enjoying the nature and each other’s company, and it gets to the point where you’ve forgotten your destination. But Jimin hasn’t and you arrive at your favorite white bench before you realize.

“Mother?” The surprised tone in your lover’s voice brings your attention to the woman a few meters ahead, crouching down to smell orchids lining the path. She smiles at a butterfly before turning to the two of you, the crinkle in her eyes endearing.

“Your Highnesses.” She bows politely, making you giggle. “I did not expect to see you out of your room so soon, (Y/n), but this certainly is a pleasant surprise.”

“I went a tad stir crazy from being in bed for so long, I just needed a break from it all.” You smile, nestling your head in the crook of Jimin’s neck comfortably.

“If it is for your health, then I approve. And it is quite noble of you to offer your back to her, my son. But, oh dear, Lilian would throw a fit if she saw you carrying the Queen through the gardens in your public attire.” She steps closer to fret with the hem of Jimin’s blazer, the precious woman, smoothing the wrinkles and fixing your dress over your knees for you.

“What brings you here, mother?”

“Oh, I simply wanted to explore the gardens before your father and I made our departures later tonight. I’ve heard so much about them and this is the first I’ve had any free time since our arrival.” She returns to looking into the fields.

“You are leaving?” You inquire.

“Yes, for my duties are complete. I cared for you while you recovered those 5 dark days and made sure you were comfortable, but now you are awake and well and in good hands, so I can leave in peace. Lilian and Jimin seem to have everything handled well.” You’re shocked to find that she had been the one taking care of you while you were in a coma. You assumed Lilian to be responsible for everything, but it seems you were incorrect. Your mother-in-law watched over you the entire time and made sure your needs were taken care of, which explains why she was sitting at the foot of your bed when you awoke, and a warm feeling wells up in you. Just like she had promised, she has protected you and stayed by your side through sickness just as your own mother would. Which is to be expected, because she too is your mother now and you have come to accept that.

“Thank you for all that you have done. I cannot express how much I appreciate it. There is no way that I will ever be able to repay you for your kindness.” You gush, hoping to communicate your sincerity through your eyes.

“There is one way to repay me— and it is my last request before I go.” You both look at her, anticipating her next words. “I would kindly like to request that you bear me grandchildren that I can dote upon and love for all eternity. That is the only thing I want in this entire world and the only thing I have to look forward to in this stage in my life, so please. You owe me nothing, (Y/n), but if you must grant me something, grant me this.” You find it precious how she pleads with you like a child in a candy store, eyes lighting up at the mention of future grandkids, and blush a little when Jimin’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter.

“Gifting you grandchildren and our kingdom’s next heir shall be the top priority on our list.” He answers for you, smiling in a way that you know his mother can read. But she says nothing in regards to it and claps happily at the promise.

“I am returning back home for now, but do not be afraid to write to me if you need help with anything. Conception can be tricky and I know all about-“

“Mother!” Jimin gasps, face turning as bright as the roses behind him. As if he didn’t just insinuate something just as bad moments ago.

“Oh, do not act as if we are not all adults here, boy. All I am suggesting is that I am willing to offer help and advise on anything regarding pregnancy and children, so do not be hesitant to contact me. I wish the two of you luck and a swift recovery, my dear. Now, I must be on my way before his father gets anxious of my whereabouts. Goodbye, my loves.” She plants a kiss to your cheek and then her son’s, making her way back toward the castle without another word.

“This is the second time she has mentioned grandchildren to me. I’m beginning to believe she wants them more than we do.” Jimin can feel the lift of your cheek against his skin, shaking his head before easing you onto the bench nearby, taking a seat next to you.

“I can assure you that no one is more excited about the prospect of our children than me. I cannot wait to start a family with you, it was the complete truth when I said that it is now our top priority. As soon as you are well, love.” His hand rests gently on your stomach in a loving way, but instead the touch sends heat spiraling down to your core. You subtly squeeze your legs tighter together in an effort to ignore the throbbing between them.

His hand pulls away all too quickly to grasp onto yours, and you sigh at the release of tension, falling into an easy silence as you simply sit and observe the nature around you. Conversation isn’t necessary, but it appears sparsely whenever anything crosses your mind, and you can say this is the closest thing to a date that you’ve had with Jimin in a while. This is the closest you’ve felt to him. With your head on his shoulder and your fingers intertwined in his lap, this is the feeling of romance and closeness that you lacked in the days you have been confined to your bed, and looking down at the gorgeous wedding rings adorning both of your fingers, you finally feel like a real married couple. He’s been here for you through sickness and health and you are so incredibly grateful that his love and perception of you hasn’t changed for the worst after witnessing your meltdown today. But yours certainly has. You didn’t think it was possible to love him even more than you already do.

Jimin stares at you as you nap with your head on his thigh, him having moved you there when he noticed you starting to dose off. He knows you’re probably exhausted from the emotional (and physical) energy it took to get through today, yet he’s glad that you are finally sleeping peacefully now. It’s odd, he feels more like a knight to you now than he did when he first confessed his love for you here as one of your soldiers. He’s a king, this he knows, but it doesn’t feel like the weight of the kingdom is on his shoulders like he expected— in fact, he feels less responsible for the welfare of the population now than he did as a General. That sense of impending doom he felt before your marriage is nowhere to be found and in its place sits an ease that makes him believe for the first time that everything will be alright. You’ve gone through Hell this past week and he prays that this is the worst it will ever get, but you’ve survived it despite everything and he knows that this will only make the two of you stronger as a pair.

The temperature dips slightly when the sun begins to set, the breeze turning a bit more persistent to aid the cooling, and your body is completely lax against him as you sleep. You do not even wake when he lifts you onto his back again, taking you back to the castle with slow steps to wash your body with a warm rag. He takes his time cleaning you, dragging the cloth and bubbles over your skin as gently as possible and making sure to clean every inch. You’re calm as he takes care of you, but goosebumps raise to the surface whenever he nears your chest or thighs. But he’s focused and devoted so he doesn’t take notice, dressing you in a satin robe and placing you against the soft sheets of your bed when he’s finished.

“Mm,” You groan quietly, shifting in your sleep when your husband runs his hand through your hair, yet you still do not awaken. He smiles at you, deciding to take the opportunity to change into more comfortable clothes for the evening, first stripping himself until his upper body is bare, then reaching down to unclasp his belt. You hum again, wiggling your hips and rubbing your legs together ever so slightly, a small furrow on your brow, and Jimin pauses to watch you for a moment. Were you feeling alright? You look to be in discomfort and a sweat builds on your temples despite the cooler temperatures, but then you lick your lips and let out a shaky sigh that clues him into what is happening.

Slowly unbuckling his belt, he feels the material of his pants pull tighter when he imagines what you could be dreaming about. Perhaps you were dreaming about the last time you had him to yourself, where he pleasured you until your legs shook. Or maybe you’re thinking about that fantasy of yours, the one where he ties your wrists and makes you beg for him to touch you properly, to let you feel him. But it is also possible that you are thinking exactly what he is imagining right this moment: him inside of you, fucking you relentlessly until you both reach your highs and he cums inside your tight, hot pussy, filling you with his seed over and over again until he’s sure you’re pregnant with his child.

He doesn’t even realize when his hand slips into his own briefs, the acute pleasure of his hand squeezing at his base enough to set him alight. The bed dips as he prowls slowly toward you, sliding your robe from your body and grabbing the container of oil perched on the bedside table that he prepared earlier to moisturize you with. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, a slick forming between your legs from your dream, and he simply smiles as he pours warm oil over your front, his soft hands following swiftly. It starts down your stomach, back up around your breasts— avoiding your nipples— around your shoulders and along your arms. The feeling alone isn’t enough to wake you, but the sound of your own voice when you moan aloud is.

“Hello there,” Jimin grins when your eyes open to meet his bare chest, then his eyes. “Sleep well?”

“I-“ You’re panting as he rubs oil into your upper body, tingles shooting down your nerves and straight to your core. “Yes.” You swallow.

“It appears so,” He chuckles, moving on to pour the liquid onto each of your thighs, catching the drips with his fingers before they can stain your sheets. Feeling his fingers on your upper thighs makes your muscles tense, and it is then that you feel the soreness from exerting yourself today. He notices a small wince when he presses into the muscles there, experimentally adding pressure to see your reaction. “Are you sore, my love?”

“Y-Yes.” You stutter out again, breath hitching at the way he lifts one of your legs suddenly to rest against his shoulder, settling himself between them, and the position alone is enough to have you pooling between the legs.

“Here?” He whispers, pressing into the muscles of your inner thighs. You groan, partly from the soreness, and partly from how close his slippery fingers glide toward your wet lips, the ache inside you increasing tenfold. “You are so tense, darling. Is this because you took your first steps out of this room today? Or could it be you are filled with tension from something else, hm? Have you been waiting for me to help you release all of this pressure? To rub out all of the stress you are holding deep inside you, wound up so, so tightly that you cannot wait to let it unravel all over me? Is that it?” You nod wordlessly.

He rubs circles into an especially tender spot and watches as you bite your lip, looking at him with such a needy expression that he almost can’t contain himself. You have the prettiest eyes he has ever seen, looking at him as if he holds the entire world in his palms, and he wants to give you everything he has to offer. Pulling you closer, he makes sure you can feel his bulge against your ass as he moves on to your other leg to work out the knots there.

“My love- I want you.” You whimper when he bucks into you a little, kissing your ankle softly.

“What is it that you desire, My Queen?”

“I want you to make love to me until I am numb and claim me as your Queen. I missed having you inside of me, I do not know if I can wait another day.” You plead, the throbbing between your legs beginning to feel unbearable.

“Fuck,” Your legs fall from his shoulders when Jimin leans forward to place his hands beside your head, bending to rest his forehead against yours. “I know I have told you that we would wait until you were well again, but I do not think I have enough willpower to deny you of your request.”

“How long must we wait, then, to consummate our love, My King? I am well, just weak, but I am certain that I can handle whatever you give to me. You will not hurt me.” To further break his resolve, you scratch your nails lightly against his scalp and watch as he shivers, grabbing onto the locks as you pull him down for a passionate kiss. His lips seem softer than ever as you press them into yours, biting on the flesh briefly before slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you lead the encounter until you are both breathless and hot. The next place his lips land is on the side of your neck, kissing along the ticklish underside of your jawline to your favorite spot above your pulse. He nips you there, still fearful of leaving a visible mark, and you groan with an arch of your chest, sensitive nipples grazing his.

“I will do all of the work, then. You need not move a single muscle, my love.” Jimin trails his lips between the valley of your breasts, kissing the underside of each one but avoiding the taut peaks. You squirm beneath him and fist his hair, whining out as he makes his way lower and slower. “Allow me to take care of you. I only wish to make your fantasies come true.” At this, he stops at the tuft of hair above your pubic bone, locking eyes with you before suddenly lunging up to grab hold of your wrists, the two of you giggling when he moves them above your head.

“You startled me!” You flush red at the way he stares down at you, looking so loving yet so dominant at the same time.

“I do recall a time where you disclosed to me that you often fantasized about me bounding your hands and having my way with you... is that something you still want?” He inquires, his eyes never wavering from yours.

“Yes, very much.” You breathe, lost in the way his thumbs caress your skin.

“Very well,” He reaches over to pull the long satin ribbon from your discarded robe, bringing the material up to tie your hands to a post. It’s tighter than what is completely comfortable but he can tell you like the slight discomfort, and you tell him it’s perfect because you know he knows just how much you enjoy this. Hands immobilized now, there is no escape from the onslaught of pleasure you know Jimin will inflict on you, and the anticipation eats you alive and makes you weep between the legs. His fingertips skim over you ever so lightly, starting from your shoulders, over your chest and stomach, down the length of your legs, bringing them back up the inside of your calves and thighs until he splays his palms against them and pushes your legs apart. The sigh he releases fans over your wetness and you whine. “It feels like it has been an eternity since I’ve last had you. Your beauty astounds me every time.”

Leaning forward, he connects his lips with yours for only a moment, before scattering them across your clavicle and dipping down to lick at your left nipple. Preoccupied with watching him suck at your chest with his luscious lips, you jolt a bit when his fingers come up to caress your core and play with your opening, gathering the leaking droplets of your arousal to bring them up to your clit. The first circle is sparks, the second lightening, and you do not even attempt to conceal the loud moan that falls from you.

“Jimin,” You gasp, already feeling out of breath. His tongue flicks, teasing the bud as his fingers move in a similar fashion below, and you feel the need to have him closer, locking your legs around his torso as he rests between them.

“That’s it, moan as loud as you want, darling. I want to hear how good you feel.” He mumbles, lowering his mouth onto your other breast and treating it with the same care. Your chest has never been very sensitive, but tonight it feels as if your body has been ignited in flames, each touch against your nerves sending a tingle straight down to your core. You could cum just like this, with his fingers on your pussy and lips around your nipples, his free hand warm as it holds up your breast for his mouth to ravish. He pulls away from your chest with a pop, letting his teeth skim the sensitive bud just to watch you arch for him.

“I n-need more,” Your voice cracks with frustration, his fingertips against you no longer enough and he knows it.

“You need more of what, my love?” He asks coyly, sinking one finger in halfway before pulling it away.

“Of you. Please, taste how badly I desire you.” Your hips lift off the bed into his hips, shocked to find how hard he is beneath his trousers. He is doing an amazing job at ignoring his own painful arousal, while you are slowly being reduced to nothing simply from the prospect of being taken by him.

“So greedy, darling, were my fingers not enough for you? Do you need my mouth to satisfy you instead?” You nod vigorously at him, gasping at the way he forcefully parts your thighs and pushes them to the bed. His dark chuckle sounds through the room, his voice dripping with lust and bass as he positions himself face-to-face with your sex. He needs little more than the fragrant scent of you to know just how fertile you are, and how sweet you will taste on his tongue, and his mouth waters at the thought. “I love how impatient you are for me, love, but we have the entire night to ourselves and I intend to take my time loving Every. Single. Inch of you.”

He punctuates his words with kisses to your center, ending with one long lick that causes your teeth to sink down on your bottom lip. Jimin’s tongue moves expertly against your slick folds, using flat licks to collect your essence that seems almost like a drug to him. It starts off gentle, the glide of his tongue, but it is the best feeling you’ve felt in what feels like ages. Pulling on your restraints, you try your hardest to keep still, hands and legs immobilized by your husband as he devours your pussy with devotion, swirling around your clit and dragging his plump lips through your wetness in the messiest way possible, but your pelvis curls up into him in delight with every sensation he delivers.

If you were to compare yourself to anything, it would be a waterfall— gushing and fast paced, heart pounding like the deafening noise of rushing water that almost drowns out the sound of him lapping up your wetness. And every time you think you have a stable foothold, he switches his pattern and sucks, causing you to slip right off the edge with the current. The feeling alone isn’t what makes you run, however; it is the way he looks up at you with his sexy, smoldering eyes as if to communicate that he knows just how amazingly talented he is with his mouth. You love when he gazes into your eyes during sex, it shows how attentive he is to your body, how fascinated he is with every reaction you produce for him as he continues to tease your pink button until your eyes roll.

“Jimin, please,” You moan, breaking eye contact with him to throw your head back into the fluffed pillows. It feels as if your toes are stuck in a curled position, muscles tense with the oncoming orgasm that he promises with every kiss. His eyebrow raises questioningly at you, almost mockingly, and you know he can feel how your clit swallows and pulses in his mouth, a clear sign that your high is near. But with three more circles, he pulls back and grins at you, waiting for your eyes to reopen and meet with his. “Why~” You whine, flexing your hips uselessly.

“You must be mistaken, darling, I am in charge tonight. I have already expressed to you that I intend to take my time pleasuring you, so why am I being rushed?” His steely gaze freezes you where you lay, bound arms relaxing once again.

“I-I was going to cum.” You reply meekly, hoping that he will resume soon before your high fades away. His thumbs play idly with your lower lips, spreading the slick smeared around from his messy eating.

“Then cum if you must, but I will not stop until I have had my fill of you. Now, be a good girl and sit still for me.” It’s worded nicely, but you know this is a warning. You haven’t been punished by him in a long while, deciding that you prefer kind yet strict Jimin to angry and cruel Jimin, but you still huff in frustration.

“To think you would treat me like this...” You pout, trying a cute tactic to appeal to his softer side. “I am the Queen, you know.”

“Oh, I am well aware of that, My Queen. But I am also your King now so I am responsible for all of your pleasure, and it is my duty and mission to give to you as much as possible. Though, admittedly, tasting your delectable flavor is mainly for my own enjoyment.” He gives a cheeky smile, one that crinkles his eyes but in a more mischievous way than normal.

“Is denying me a high also part of your plan?” You snap, earning a click of his tongue.

“If you allow me to work, you will find that we both will get what we desire.” With that he reconnects his mouth to your pussy, the return of his warmth throwing you back into the river. He works you with a slow tongue, targeting where you’re most sensitive for only a few seconds at a time before straying down your slit to prod at your hole, barely giving you enough time to catch your breath before returning to tend to your bud. It is extremely difficult to keep still, and at this rate you will reach your first high quicker than you expected. He is so good with his mouth that you can hardly do more than moan, straining your arms above your head as not to move your lower body, but you cannot stop the tremble of your thighs when he licks you so well.

His pace increases, diving in rough to push you over the edge with a squeal of his name, and suddenly you are falling off the endless rapids of an explosive orgasm. You have thought many times how your first orgasm as a married woman would be given to you, but you could never have guessed it would be this intense. The silk of your restrains dig into your wrists, but you feel nothing aside from the deep pulsing inside you, clenching and squeezing around nothing as he eases you through the bliss. You can hear a faint hum sound from the man between your legs as you begin to come back down, your juices shining on his cheeks as he drinks from the source, eyes closed and face tinted pink from your heat. But just when your body relaxes again, he drags his way back up, surprising you with the shock it sends to your toes.

“Ah!” You squeak, attempting to close your legs, but his strength is many times more than yours and you hold little power as he holds you open, eyes back on yours with a curious glint. He runs his wet muscle up and down the length of your pussy, watching you buck and jump from the sensitivity, barely able to whine out his name to tell him it’s too much. However, you already know this was his plan from the start, so you force yourself to endure it.

He’s grinning now, simply adoring the response he gets from you with every movement against you, and his cock screams for relief at how sexy you look as you lay there bound and sweaty, a flush of red overtaking your complexion and an uncontrollable shaking that is almost laughable. If he can hold on a little longer he is sure you will feel so wet and soft around him once he finally slips inside. It’s painful to wait, but the beautiful agony you reflect on your face is more than a worthy distraction. Locking his arms around your hips, Jimin uses his fingers to spread your lips and expose your shy clit as it hides from the stimulation. As soon as the air touches it you shiver, immediately replaced by a warmth that spreads up your spine with every quick flick against it. Your body protests at once, trying hard to slip from his grasp, but then your whimpering turns to moaning and you once again feel that building sensation in your abdomen.

Once your muscles finally relax and your legs part farther in invitation, Jimin sneaks in two of his chubby digits to satisfy the emptiness you craved to be filled. It is amazing how easily he finds your spot, curled and pressed right into the rough patch that holds the key to your second release. He doesn’t pump in and out like usual— no, it’s more like he’s rubbing you from the inside— and the combination of this alongside his tongue sends you into a cursing frenzy.

“Shit- Ah! So fucking-“ A deep groan sounds from your throat when he increases pressure against your walls. “Right like that... I’ll-“ Your words come in broken intervals as you struggle to catch a breath, the voluntary control of your body slipping away the more your mind clouds with hazy pleasure that speeds through you. A numbness takes over your body to the point where you barely feel anything, and then you feel everything all at once. It’s a beautiful brilliance that blindsides you once it hits, the feeling ascending you from the mix of sensations that never let up between your legs, and it’s almost an out-of-body experience. Jimin can feel the harsh clenching of your walls around his thick fingers, wetness spilling out around the digits as the intensity of your spasms magnify with every drag of his tongue. Your back is contorted and arched off the sheets, no sound escaping you as you look to be in total bliss, focused completely on the incredible rush of endorphins that only lasts seconds, but feels like hours. He’s captivated once again by the sight of you, pulling his mouth away to catch the end of your euphoric trip, your hips bucking in waves to chase the feeling.

The hand within you stills, but you continue to react, shaking and clamping your thighs shut when he moves from the gap between them. Staggering breaths are all you can manage for a minute, eyes shut tight and still lost in the wonderland that his mouth and fingers brought you. You can feel his eyes lingering on you, his fingers pulled from your hole, and you can just imagine the smile that’s on his lips. One that he wears only when he is feeling especially good about himself, his ego big enough to fill the entire palace. But when you finally look to him, all you see is wild hunger in his eyes.

“I have never seen you look so enraptured before. For a moment I feared that I had broken you,” He laughs, completely amazed, making a mental note to improve his technique just so he can make you cum like that every time. You swallow hard and shake your head at him, reaching to pull him down for a kiss but being met with the rattle of your headboard. With quick hands, he unties you and dives in to meet your lips with his, groaning at the way you lead aggressively and push at his trousers.

“Off. Need you.” You mumble into the kiss, barely pulling away enough to speak as you taste the intoxicating flavor of his mouth and your cum. He gently bites your lip to slow your frenzy, pulling the flesh along with him before releasing and staring into your eyes like they hold the galaxy. It lasts only a second, but it is enough to cause your heart to skip a beat as you realize the magnitude of the moment. You are now married to the love of your life. He is King and you are the Queen. There are no limitations surrounding your love now, meaning everything that happens from this point forward has been given the official approval of the kingdom— it is encouraged, even. This is what you have waited for.

Shoving down his pants, Jimin makes haste in exposing himself, rid of his last garment and ready to begin. You look up at him with innocent eyes as he pulls you toward him and rubs himself between your folds, cock scalding with the pulsating need to fill you to the brim and fuck it’s heavy load deep into you. Due to the stress of your recovery and handling the affairs of the kingdom, Jimin has not been relieved since the night before your wedding and his balls are tense and weighted with a week of unreleased pressure. Once covered in the arousal from your previous orgasms, he wastes no time pressing the head of him into your entrance, pushing in as slowly as he can manage so you feel every bit of his cock as it gently spreads you open around him.

“Look at me.” He whispers to you, grip tightening on your hips when you find his gaze once again. When he’s all the way inside he only pauses for a few seconds, pulling out halfway and slowly inserting himself back in, both of you groaning in delight. He can feel how swollen you are from your first two orgasms, the fit tighter than usual, and he finds himself short of breath just from the shallow strokes he’s given you so far. Reaching up, you loop your arms around his neck to bring him closer, his palms resting next to your head so he can hold himself above you. “I hope our children inherit your eyes.” He confesses, and you clench at this, heart fluttering.

“Well, there will not be any children of ours unless you fuck me properly.” You shoot back with a smile, tired of the slow rolling of his hips and wishing he would just get to it already.

“I also wish for them to inherit your smile— but hopefully not your vulgar tongue.” Jimin snickers when you roll your eyes at him, his thrusts increasing in power just slightly before he pulls out completely. “Turn over, raise your ass high for me.” You hastily follow his instructions, facing the headboard and dropping your upper half onto the pillows so he has the perfect view from behind.

“Like this?” You coo, wiggling to tease. His hands grope at your globes, pulling them apart slightly to eye the string of wetness that drips down from you, catching it with his length before it can stain your sheets. The way he fits inside you when he re-enters halts your playfulness instantly, the slide feeling so much better in this position.

“Is this what you wanted of me, My Queen? Is this enough?” The slap of his hips against your ass is so loud that it echoes throughout the room, accompanied by the squelch of your walls and your muffled whimpers into the pillow beneath you.

The speed he chooses is quick, sharp and deep thrusts that aim pointedly at your engorged frontal wall, and your back hollows initially out of surprise, but he easily guides you into your previous arched position with a hand between your shoulder blades. From his perspective, you look like a succubus enticing him to succumb to his deepest desires and chase his high selfishly with the goal of impregnating you. He nearly drools at the dip of your back and waist, the roundness of your ass on display for no one but him, each cheek jiggling giddily with the contact of his skin. He can see the tiny sweat droplets beginning to bead on the surface of your shoulders and neck, stray strands of hair getting stuck there the more you are jostled into the pillows, the color of your ears and neck turning a lovely red color from the blood rush. Raking his nails up and down your back, Jimin watches with rapt attention as goosebumps appear, prickling up in beautiful response to his touch as he fucks you harder.

You feel his hands begin to play with your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to get a view of his cock sliding in and out, slowing for a few strokes just to see how you grip him on the way out and suck him back in until his balls rest against your lips. He pulls you into him, encouraging your movement, and it isn’t long before you pick up his rhythm, rocking yourself into him to the best of your ability in your weakened state. But even with the little power you manage, Jimin still touches so much deeper, so much stronger into you, and your moans turn almost crazed. His cock isn’t incredibly long, but God, does he fit perfectly against all of your favorite places. Like two pieces of a puzzle. You’ve experienced his cock on many occasions, yet you never grow tired of it or get used to the feeling that makes you feel light in the head and numb in your body. He could say the same for your pussy, the feeling even more satisfying every time he’s had the pleasure of exploring it. Today is different though— this feels different— and maybe it is supposed to. Maybe this is what it feels like to know that you are all his. To have security in your relationship, which is something that had been missing when your relationship was still in secret. It’s a new feeling and it feels amazingly wet and tight and perfect, he could easily become very comfortable with the idea of having you and only you for the rest of his days.

Pushing you down flat, Jimin moves your legs together to straddle the back of your thighs, slipping in once again with a groan of your name. His front lowers to rest against your back, lips already starting a trail up your shoulders and neck. It’s a bit ticklish when he kisses you there and you smile, turning your head to meet him and slip your tongue into his mouth. His hips are fluid like waves on a beach, rocking into you slowly once more so you can cherish the moment and the closeness. If he doesn’t slow down now, Jimin is certain he will cum very soon and he wants this to last so much longer than that.

“I missed this with you.” He whispers, returning his lips to suck at your jaw. “I missed being intimate with you and having you like this. To think I almost lost you, fuck,” A shakiness enters his voice that you do not expect. “To think I would never get to love or touch you again... I never want to let you go now. I just want to hold you.”

“Then hold me. I am yours now.” You reassure him, finding one of his hands and holding on tight. You have shared those same thoughts: the possibility that— had you not been so lucky— one of you could have died and you would never be able to experience this love ever again. Having him be here in the moment with you means so much more now, and you feel so incredibly blessed to be able to express your love to each other again.

“I will do so much more than hold you, My love. I want to satisfy every craving and desire you have, your wish is my command.” His rolling turns into rougher grinding, the friction and his words sending a flash of heat through your body.

“Faster,” You breathe, squeezing his hand a little tighter. The fragrant candles lit across the room do a poor job at covering the scent of sex that wafts from your bodies when he picks up speed, raising onto his hands to gain leverage. You grip the sheets when he starts fucking you in earnest, bouncing off your ass and aiming for long strokes. You wish you could say the smack of his hips was the lewdest sound in the room, but you cannot control your voice, moaning even louder now with reckless abandon. There is no doubt in your mind that everyone on the second floor of your palace can hear you, Jimin’s own grunts joining yours when you squeeze so nicely around him.

His hand snakes up your side, winding around to grab hold of one of your breasts, and his expert fingers twist and pinch at your sensitive nipples, earning moan after moan from you as he continues to increase in speed and power.

“It is so good,” Jimin huffs, crouching over you to move his hand higher until it has a light grasp around your neck. His fingertips press to your pulse point, not enough to cut off your airflow, but enough to have you lightheaded and dripping from the sensation. “Talk to me, My Queen. Tell me how much you love my cock.”

Your husband has always been a sucker for praise, yours in specific, and you have never been one to deny him of it. Twisting as far as you can, you look back at him to express your words and are met with a sight that makes your walls flutter. The orange dim lighting of the room flickers shadows all over his body, defining the cuts of muscle and glow of perspiration covering him. His abs flex with every forward movement, peck muscles bulging to hold his weight, only the tops of his thighs visible over the horizon of your ass. He plows into you with magnificent form, focused on giving you the utmost pleasure amidst his own. “I love... everything about you.” You pant, unable to tear your eyes from his body or the sight of his cock moving languidly in and out of you. “I love how fucking deep you reach, I love how I can feel your balls pressing against me with every stroke, I love how I can feel you throbbing inside- god, Jimin, I am so close.”

“Will you cum for me once more, darling? Let me feel you pull me in and milk my cum with your sweet little pussy.” His fingers press harder to your throat, your core tightening in tandem, and you can feel your whole body quiver with the beginnings of your orgasm. He’s dripping sweat by now, his hair wet and flopping about his forehead, and you do not think he has ever looked so sexy. The dark look in his eyes is deadly, his own high fast approaching, and butterflies of excitement explode in your belly.

“I will not let go until you do.” You confess, though you are not entirely certain that is true with the way he’s making you feel right now. “I want to feel you spill your seed within me, that is my desire. Please.” Your begging receives a growl in response, a sudden emptiness filling you when he pulls away and flips you back around to face him, throwing your ankles over his shoulders unceremoniously. His hands wrap around to grip the front of your thighs, fingertips digging in as he pounds into you with his strength.

“Fuck, I want that too.” He pants, eyes locking between your legs before they shut in ecstasy, his cursing revealing just how unraveled he is becoming. “I want to cum so deep in this pussy that you will be leaking for days. Need to mark you with my love so the whole fucking kingdom knows you are mine. I have waited for so long, I can’t wait to see you heavy with my child, so swollen and beautiful and all mine. No one else’s.”

His words affect you almost as much as the angle his tip touches inside you, pulling gasps and drawn out whimpers from your lips. There’s as sting where your thighs meet his skin repeatedly, and you know you will probably have bruises all over tomorrow, but you can’t seem to care when it feels this amazing. More than that, his face is scrunched up in desperate agony, each push into your sopping walls dragging him down into a sea of bliss, hoping to fill you with his own salty semen as you continue to gush around him.

“Jimin,” You couldn’t speak if you wanted to, every word being replaced by shuddering gasps because of the magic he performs with his hips. You know he is usually adamant about making you cum first, but you honestly do not think he can hold out that long if the lovely shade of pink that flushes over his face and chest are any indication. You tighten purposefully, snagging your bottom lip with your teeth to stifle your own noises in favor of listening to his, his resulting moan like music to your ears.

“I- shit, I’m gonna-“ His head leans against your ankle, eyebrows furrowed intensely as sweat pools down from his temples.

“Cum inside me, Jimin, I want it so badly. Please. Make me yours.”

All restraint leaves his body at once and he becomes frantic, raising to his knees to deliver devastating thrusts that force you up the bed in increments. Your hands cover his when they move to your waist, craving to feel more of him. His moans become pornographic and you swear you could listen to him getting lost in you forever. They make your core clench as his volume gets louder, and that is all it takes to send him over the edge, unrhythmic, stuttering bucks all he can manage when you feel the first contraction of his balls. With a cry of your name, Jimin pushes in as far as he will go and grinds against you, his head thrown back to expose his bobbing Adam’s apple and the veins straining at the surface of his skin as his eyes roll at the satisfaction of finally being able to finish inside you. This is what you have wanted for so long, to feel each pulse of his groin when he reaches the height of his pleasure, to feel the sensation of him swelling ever so slightly inside of you as he paints your walls white with his release, but neither of you expected for it to feel this incredible. You feel like this is an entirely new level of intimacy that you have reached with your lover, being able to have him splatter his love deep within your womb and milk himself dry with your warm walls.

You can’t help but moan at the experience, never having seen him cum so hard before, and it takes several seconds for the twitching in his balls to stop before he is coherent again. What you do not expect is for his hips to start moving not a moment later, gently at first while he leans over you to press your knees to your chest and his forehead to yours. But his pace then resumes to the relentless one he held before, though not as powerful, and you instantly tense up.

“It feels so much better like this— so so wet.” Jimin groans, fighting through his own sensitivity to help you find bliss as well. You never knew you needed this in your life— him fucking you with his overly sensitive cock, using his own cum as lube to get you to your peak— but now that it’s happening, you don’t know how you’ve lived your whole life without it. Already close to the edge, you can hardly function with all of the new sensations you are experiencing, nails raking at Jimin’s toned back until they land on his muscular ass. “Mmm, I can feel how close you are,” His breath hitches. “Are you aroused by the feeling of me fucking my cum into your womb? It feels good, doesn’t it— being pleased and claimed by your King?”

You can only nod at him, sealing your lips out of cautious habit, but he opens your mouth with his to swallow your moans instead, grabbing hold of your ass to pull you deeper along his shaft, making sure to hit that one spot that makes your toes curl and legs go numb. Not that you mind at all, you can barely walk anyway. When he pulls away for air you find him gazing at you, eyes glazed over with the need to see you fall apart for him, his stamina depleting rapidly. Luckily, you can already feel the mind-numbing feeling climbing up your spine with every pull of his length.

“You take me so well, my love, I cannot wait to feel you let go around me. Come on, darling, let me feel you pulse and pull all my cum back inside you.” Upon his command, you release the spring that has been coiling inside you and let yourself fall.

This orgasm is far different than the one’s you have had before. It starts off softly, your body relaxing to the point where you think you’ll sink right through the mattress, but then a flame courses through you and singes all of your nerves until all of your muscles lock and you are caught in a silent scream. Jimin is the one who curses when your core begins to swallow around him, the spasms almost harsh enough to knock the wind out of both of you as he continues lifting you over his length. He keeps fucking you through it, staring at the dazed expression on your face as you arch your back under him, the contractions at your center getting unbearably stronger until you are nearly pushing him out, a pressure forcing against his thrusts that he has never felt before. The wetness between you magnifies tenfold as liquid begins to spurt from you every time he pulls out, splashing against his abdomen and dripping down your ass. It isn’t buckets, but it is enough to make a mess as both of your cum mixes, his cock lathered to the point where it’s hard for him not to slip out.

When you finally take a breath it comes out as a shout, followed by a jumble of words when your hands shoot to his arms just as the trembles in your body take hold. With two more strokes, he pulls out, thumb rubbing at your clit quickly to force out more liquid with how strong your empty hole squeezes. He smiles at the sounds you make, pulling his hand away when you beg, watching you curl up instantly, still thrashing with the ongoing surge of pleasure. Gentle fingers move your fringe from your eyes, calming you with a warm hand caressing your side.

“Wow.” Is all your husband can say, also taking his time recovering and allowing his length to soften fully. He collapses onto the bed behind you, pulling your body to his and attacking you with kisses all over your shoulders and neck, twisting you onto your back until he can reach your face and peck his way to your lips. He cradles your head in his hands as he slows, savoring the taste of your mouth and the smile he can feel against his lips.

Your mind is blank when you look at him again, completely blissed out and unable to have any thoughts. You lay there for several minutes, just cuddling each other and smiling, not knowing what to say. Jimin is the first to break the silence.

“Your servants are going to be livid with you.” He chuckles, referring to the ruined bedsheets.

“No, our servants are going to be livid with us. Do not exclude yourself from this, My King.” He shivers at the name, not yet used to it, but it bring a pride to his chest when he hears it from your lips.

“Are you completely satisfied with our first night together, my love?”

“Our first night? It is far from it.” You scoff, closing your eyes.

“Do not let anyone else in the kingdom hear that, our rule would surely be doomed if word were to get out.” He reminds you lightheartedly, though he is correct.

“Ah, yes. In that case: our first night together was delightful, more than I could have ever hoped for. If, for some reason, I had sexual relations with you before our marriage— which I certainly have not— I would go as far as to say that it was the best time I have ever had.” You grin cheekily, pecking him on the nose with a laugh.

“I feel the same.” He replies honestly, capturing your lips in a lazy kiss that tangles your limbs and makes your stomach do backflips. “I discovered a few things about you tonight, Love, and a new talent. I cannot wait to explore it more.” Jimin stands to begin his cleanup job, grabbing a cloth and wetting it before strolling back over to where you lay motionlessly. If you were weak before, you are now totally drained, your legs and toes still tingling from your bent position and the extreme orgasms he forced out of you. It’s almost laughable how exhausted you look.

“I suppose next time we will know what to expect.” You yawn, sighing when the warm cloth touches your skin.

“Next time? Who says we are finished for tonight?” He inquires, opening your legs to peer at his own cum dripping out of your opening. “If we are seriously attempting to get you pregnant, should we not try more than once a day?”

“I do not know if I can handle more.” You complain, squirming even when he wipes between your legs until you are clean.

“Do not worry, dinner should be here soon and then we can nap, but it is far too early to go to sleep. As I said before, we have all night, there is no need to rush.”

Lilian enters nearly an hour later with steaming trays of food, busy as always and barely paying attention.

“Oh it smells horrendous in here, maybe I should replace these candles.” She mumbles to herself, cracking open a window after placing your plates in front of you and Jimin. It is only after she mindlessly starts tidying up does she notice your sleepy forms, taking in your droopy eyes and Jimin’s smug face. “I see you appear to be in better condition, Your Majesty. I trust that everything has been resolved?”

“Yes, Lilian, I am doing much better. Just a little sore.” One look at her narrowed eyes tells you that she knows exactly what transpired between you and the King.

“The King seems to be very adept at taking care of you. You may soon not need me at all.” She grins, picking up clothing from the carpet.

“Not to worry, I do not aim to steal your occupation. There are just certain things that I am more suited to care for in regards to our Queen.” He is far too smug for your liking and you frown, elbowing him in the side as he and Lilian share giggles. She is probably the only servant he will get this close to, but it still makes you uncomfortable how they talk so freely about your private matters.

“Thank you, Lilian, that will be all.” You say with a tight smile. Her eyes flick down to the wet spot on the center of the bed, eyebrows shooting up as she makes her exit.

“Shall I order new sheets, Your Highnesses?”

“THAT WILL BE ALL, LILIAN.”

#Jimin smut #ksmutclub #bts smut #jimin scenario #tyfys #ficswithluv

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Lingering Light

Author: @zettern​

For: @nadisabug​

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: fluffy confession

Author’s notes: I tried my best at being fluffy! I hope you enjoy it! :)

“Time passes so quickly.”

Two men sat outside the Jabberwock Island Library, with countless books scattered on a thin blanket. They spent the day together in silence, passing the time reading with an occasional conversation popping up. When they spoke, it was for shared information concerning the book in hand. They shared ideas and tossed around theories about the current state of the world. It was mostly about a world they no longer had access to, as they collectively decided to set their freedoms aside for the better. It was a permanent promise that was deserving, of course.

All the students cursed with the marking of the 77th class had nowhere else to go. No family to return to, no childhood friends and no other connections. They were simply wiped away from the face of the planet and the former students were left with each other. Although that was months ago, they had learned to grow accustomed to this normal.

The sun was falling, bathing the island with broken gold. Shade provided from the trees and garden shielded their eyes. It smelled faintly of sweat from the summer heat as well as the salty air from the beach. Two scents they have become well-acquainted with. And if a book was brought close enough, the moldy scent of old dog-eared pages would help in transporting them to a new world where there was more than an abandoned island.

Nagito and Hajime were sitting side by side, close enough to feel each other’s electric presence but far enough that they weren’t touching. Sweat was running down Hajime’s neck for two reasons. One: it was far too hot outside to not long for the modern air-conditioned room. Two: the setting sun was bouncing off Nagito, giving him an ethereal glow.

The corners of his lips were curled up softly as his eyes scanned the pages, the only escape from his own harsh reality. He didn’t bother to wipe the stray strands of hair that were partially blocking his vision. He was so entranced by the words, Hajime assumed he didn’t hear what he said mere moments ago. It was only during times like this when Nagito appeared to be at his happiest. Flicking through the pages in the silence that not even his luck cycle could disturb. All of this and Hajime couldn’t recall when he put his own book down to admire the man before him. What he wouldn’t give for Mahiru to capture this moment forever.

Their friendship had always been a rocky one, due to the unstable nature of their lives. But when they returned to the island, it was like Nagito reverted to the boy Hajime met on the beach in the simulation. He could easily recall the sound of the waves rolling onto the shore and the silhouette that stayed behind to keep him company. Hajime remembered the feeling of betrayal, the pain he experienced when he ran into the warehouse. He could never forget the lies and the truths all in the time they were locked in a simulation. He could never forget when he was the World Destroyer and the realization that Nagito desired nothing more than a peaceful life and to be loved. Sure the man was…odd about hope, but once Hajime recognized his struggles it made more sense.

It pained Hajime to think this burden of living the rest of their lives on Jabberwock Island was the closest thing to peace Nagito has had in years. This was true for all the inhabitants of the island, he supposed.

In this time, the two had gotten to understand each other better, writing over the hiccups caused by a stressful environment.

Nagito flipped the page of his book with his new arm. He released a soft sigh before resting his head on Hajime’s shoulder. Frozen, Hajime had to remind himself to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. It had grown to something more. Hajime’s face was no longer flushed from the heat. His heart was pounding in his chest and prayed Nagito wouldn’t hear it. Something Hajime wanted so badly to put into words to officiate whatever was going on between them. The wild clouds of Nagito’s hair tickled Hajime’s nose, threatening a sneeze. He was suddenly aware of how sweaty he had been all day.

Did Nagito take notice? Was he repulsed?

“It does.” Nagito said, folding in the page of his book and setting it aside.

“…What?” Hajime croaked. God, he sounded like a prepubescent boy. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What?” At least it sounded passable this time.

“Time. It does go quickly. It’s been months since we returned to Jabberwock Island. So much has changed since then.” Nagito studied his robotic arm, waving his artificial fingers around. Hajime’s heart danced at the knowledge that Nagito wasn’t ignoring his words, not that he ever did. “And even so, you spend each day with someone like me instead of enjoying your time with the others. Have you grown tired of me yet, Hajime?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t appreciate your company.” Hajime shifted slightly enough to get more comfortable in his position. “You should know this by now.” He took a leap and rested his head atop Nagito’s. He felt the other man tense up and Hajime immediately questioned whether or not he made a mistake by doing this. The sun sank further down into the horizon. Hajime kept his eyes closed, reveling in the moment, never wanting to lose it. Nagito soon relaxed under his weight.

“I wonder what bad luck will come my way for having this.” Nagito whispered. “My apologies, Hajime. I shouldn’t be burdening you with the thought of my luck cycle.” It was at those words that Hajime lifted his head, losing the physical closeness he wanted to keep. He couldn’t stand it when Nagito spoke of himself that way. Like he was no more useful than a stray leaf in the wind.

“It’s not a burden!” He defended a little too enthusiastically. “…Besides, with everything that has happened in your life, don’t you think you have nothing but good luck waiting for you?”  It was too idealistic of a claim. They both knew.

“That’s not exactly how my luck works, Hajime. I’m damned to be stuck in this cycle for the rest of my life. I’ve already come to terms with it.” Nagito sighed as he pulled away from Hajime. His greediness would only lead to bad luck after all.

“I k-know that!” Hajime turned, so that Nagito could turn around and look him straight in the eyes. “But with my talents…” He began. “My talents…can cancel out the bad luck…” He tried to continue but the words wouldn’t come out. His heart was pounding, threatening to break free at this point.

“The only way that could ever work is if you were constantly at my side. I doubt you’d want to bring that kind of misfortune upon yourself.” Nagito averted his gaze, choosing to focus on the flowers next to him. His prosthetic hand was digging into the dirt, fighting the urge to be wishful.

“…I wouldn’t mind.” Hajime finally dared to say part of what he always wanted to. The hint of the words he wanted to reciprocate before Nagito went and deceived everyone in the killing game.

“What could someone like me possibly have to offer to you?” Nagito finally looked up to meet Hajime’s eyes. Frantic at the implication of those words. “Someone as talented and popular as yourself has no need to waste time with trash.” He tugged at the sleeves of his worn jacket, curling into himself. It was always Hajime could be with someone better, Hajime should be with someone better or Hajime would be with someone different had they survived. It was never what he wanted.

Hajime reached out.

“You don’t have to offer anything!” He grasped his shoulders, Nagito could only stare at him wide-eyed. “Nagito, your presence alone is enough for me to be satisfied! How long is it going to take for you to understand that I care about you?” It grew silent. The only sounds came from the waves running onto the nearby shore and Nagito’s wild thoughts. Seconds ticked away, their gazes unwavering.

Hajime delicately took Nagito’s chin in his hand without thinking. He didn’t want Nagito to do what he always did and recoil into himself and his doubts. “I’ve grown to care about you so much it hurts.” Hajime’s voice was a tremor of an earthquake yet on the inside he felt the bellowing surge of a wave. “Every morning I wake up excited at the thought to spend time with you. I don’t care if we go the entire day without speaking, as long as you’re nearby I am satisfied.”

“How?” Nagito dropped his arms. “I have absolutely nothing to give.” He whispered. “I have no other purpose than to be used. Everything I have ever come to love, leaves me! I’m always left behind!” He was quivering like a lost dog on a rainy summer night. “Choosing to remain here with me is nothing but misfortune waiting to happen.” Did Nagito truly think that alone would scare Hajime away? They’ve been through hell already, so he was going to have to try harder than that.

“Then it’s a misfortune I want for the rest of my life.” Hajime gently cupped Nagito’s face in his hands. His eyes were brighter than all the stars beginning to sprinkle the sky. The hope in his eyes was clouded by a thick fog of doubt. Hajime wanted nothing more than to embrace him in this moment and remain that way for all eternity to clear any doubt.

“I can’t avoid these feelings any longer, Nagito. There is nothing I want more than to see you live an ordinary life and to spend it with you.” This was true from the moment they left the Neo World Program, it has been Hajime’s grandest wish. He wanted to wake up and see Nagito smiling for the right reasons filled with hope for a better future. He wanted to kiss away all the negativity just so they can finally have this chance to be happy.

Nagito stared into Hajime’s eyes in disbelief. Hajime could hear the shaky breaths escaping his lips. He swallowed. “You said you were in love with the hope sleeping within me. So why can’t I do the same?”

Nagito audibly gasped. “Hajime…” And before he had the chance to shut himself off in an attempt to avoid the situation, Hajime pressed their foreheads together. “Will you let me?” Hajime asked. The question seemed to work as his shaking slowly subsided and turned into soft nods. Nagito leaned further into the touch. Hajime watched as his eyes fluttered shut.  “Is… this really alright..?” Hajime tucked stray hairs away from Nagito’s face, lightly grazing his cheek in the process.

“Of course it is.” Hajime replied as he closed his eyes. He slowly inched forward, his mind racing.

Their lips met. This was something Hajime had dreamt of for what seemed like ages. From Nagito’s fear to trying not to grin like an idiot during their first kiss. Nothing could compare to the actuality of it. And how much better it felt to physically experience it instead of spending sleepless nights wondering about it.

Nagito’s lips were softer than he imagined. Hajime was near to melting on the spot as his heart pounded wildly in his chest. Nagito shuddered and slowly curled his fingers around Hajime’s waist, pulling him closer, never wanting it to come to an end. Time had stopped to listen to their dazed thoughts.

When they pulled apart, Nagito whispered three words that were music to Hajime’s ears. A song he would never tire of listening to. “I hope that’s okay.” He added.

“Always.” He felt so choked up and free.

The sun had long since disappeared. They were enjoying each other’s company in the moonlight filled with new promises. Books were forgotten, tossed aside for another time. Hajime was smiling ear to ear like an idiot as he listened to Nagito explain what he was reading earlier. No distance was placed between them. Nagito made sure, albeit hesitantly, to close any form of distance. And Hajime might as well have been soaring at the sound of Nagito’s voice. His presence. His steady breaths. His lips. The messy hair that got too close to his nose. The green jacket that he wore every day despite the heat. The memory of waking up on the beach. Nagito’s first attempt at a confession. The World Destroyer. Nagito finally waking up from the simulation. The boat ride back to Jabberwock Island.

Hajime loved and cherished it all.

The two lovers spent the rest of the night recounting all they have been through that brought them to this exact moment in their lives. And before they realized, the sun was creeping up from behind. They took it as a signal to pack up their belongings and return to their rooms. Not a wink of sleep and both men had never felt so awake.

That dawn, they walked hand in hand to the cottages for some well deserved peace.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction