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vinylhazza · 3 years

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For Keeps (G.D)

Summary: Jesse knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to say it, or rather demand it. Grayson, who carries respect and dignity like a shield of armor, walks the line of being the vanilla boyfriend he always thought she’d want, or the guy that listens to the devil on his shoulder and embellishes on the fantasies that won’t leave him alone every night. There is a first for everything, a time and place to try something -- or some one new. There is a chance to set the fire in motion. He might just take it.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warning: Strong sexual content, giving head, fingering, spitting, explicit language

There is a first for everything.

The first time you ride a bike, the first time you try your favorite food, the first time you win an award, the first time you hear your favorite song, the first time you talk to the person you’re meant to spend the rest of forever with, the first time you overcome your worst fear, the first time you read your favorite book, the first time you travel to a different country, the first time you have thoughts that should damn you for eternity and for some...there is even a first time for eating pussy.

It’s an embarrassment he’d never wanted anyone to discover let alone put to the test. Sure his friends had their time to talk about their extensive knowledge on female anatomy, but whenever the topic of him and Jesse doing anything outside the box he himself had placed them in, his lips were sealed. For one thing it wasn’t their business, for two he’s not entirely sure what he would say. He knew the time would come. He didn’t view their relationship like a race and he knew Jesse didn’t either. They’d been friends for too long and knew each other too well for him to base their relationship off of sex.

Grayson keeps his eyes glued to his hands holding Jesse’s hips tight -- unsure of what to do now that he’s got her beneath him and wanting him to have his way with her. He knows what he wants, but doubts that he has the courage to pursue it within him. He’d watch her with careful eyes as she peeled off each article of clothing before pulling him close by his belt loop and on to the bed to kiss her rough busy day away. A picnic was nice, but his complete and undivided attention was better. Even if his eyes trailing up and down every part of her body made her nervous.

He’d done plenty of things with his ex before Jesse, but none of those things had involved his lips and tongue anywhere beneath the waist. Not anything like he’s inevitably about to do.

“Cat caught your tongue?” Jesse had snickered minutes ago, a sly smirk lacing up her ruby red lips from so much kissing -- moment’s before he’d gotten them both all hot and bothered. He couldn’t help it when he was with her, his self control falters and he’s drunk off her touch once again, swimming in a pool of despair he can’t control. All he can think about is her. Wanting her. Needing her. Touching every single inch of her velvety skin. Wanting to do things to her. Wanting her to do things to him. Things he would blush at in the future.

Jesse was a woman with desires he’d only dreamed of women having. She was shy at times but the devil danced in her bright eyes. Grayson knew she wanted things she’d never had the guts to say out loud and things she only wanted from him alone. It all made him a fierce kind of nervous, but gave him an electrified thrill. A challenge for him to explore the workings of her body and all the ways he can make her more satisfied than she’s ever been. He didn’t plan on letting her go anytime soon - and if he wanted to do her right, he had to go outside of his comfort zone for her.

Knowing Jesse was more experienced did things to him that he couldn’t begin to hide -- but more than anything it made him jealous of every set of hands that had ever touched her skin before his. It made him reckless and competitive, focused and haughty. He was better than them, he could be better than them.

He could rapture her into a whirlwind of pleasure that would ruin her image of every man except him, wanting no one's mouth but his, daydream of no one’s lips but his own, beg for no one else’s touch, want no one else’s hands but the ones holding her now. It wasn’t about him, this wasn’t about his pleasure for once, it was truly all about her.

Pulling him back into the flames, he’s burning up under her intense stare, waiting for him to do something, do anything. Anything but watch her long enough to find something less than stellar, less than grand, less than exceptional. With her fears unfolding she pulls him down for a kiss of her own, a soft feather of a thing he can feel all the way to his toes. She’d always been good at that, giving him more to miss when she’s away. The way she hugs him close is one of those things.

Grayson fell hard into love—which wasn’t particularly unusual for the hopeless romantic he was, but he always knew Jesse was set apart from the seasonal heartthrobs. He was truly bewitched by her creativity, wanderlust, unapologetic confidence, patience, and beauty.

An enchantress she was, beautiful beyond anything he could ever deserve. Drop dead gorgeous with the personality to match, there wasn’t a head that didn’t turn when she walked into a room, not a man that didn’t fumble over their words at any opportunity to talk to her, not a woman who didn’t want to be her friend. Sure her beauty was undeniable, but her benevolent heart beat it all.

He may never know why Jesse had leaned in to kiss him seven months ago save for three days in a hidden corner in Café Verona -- a quaint treasure he’d always hold dear to his heart. Fairy lights criss-crossed along the ceiling, soft Jazz waltzing with the beat of his heart, emerald green leather bench pressing into his thighs. But he’s glad she did. He’s glad she leaned in to kiss him when he’d been building up the nerve for weeks. So afraid to go there but more afraid of not knowing what would happen if he didn’t. He’s glad she took his chin in between her fingers to hold him still enough to feel her lips press to his securely, a warmth swarming in his chest where the heart shaped hole once was.

If he flipped through the pages of his memory, he would remember a statue-like stillness about him before he sunk into her touch, caging her head in his large careful hands. Feeling the gasp she tried to hide, the smell of grapefruit shampoo and the way her flushed cheeks felt under his stroking thumbs. He would see himself fall into her, around her and through her, off the edge of the rocky cliff and into the dark blissful deep of nothing but her.

He’d be eternally grateful she looked at him with utmost sincerity and whispered with a raw kind of intensity that he’d “driven her mad you see” -- and he’d heard it then, the brittleness of her voice because fear rattles her to the core, and she had been scared out of her mind. A crack that tracked through her careful confession and to the root of him. Jesse was scared of what he meant, what he was in terms of her heart, what he could be if she continued to kiss him the way she was.

In that quiet moment he remembered what made her so deeply rooted in his heart: the laugh that rattled him, the soft smell of peaches and vanilla, the way she never drives without sunglasses because her mom who passed away much too early did the same, the dance she does when she finally eats the first bite of food after damn near breaking the world in half in hanger, the way she punches the roof of her car after making it through a yellow light because her best friend in high school did the same, the way she always turns her spoon upside down when eating ice cream, and the way she always has answers for everything no matter what topic, even the way she laughs entirely too hard at Family Feud.

For that reason alone he waited for the physical parts to come when they may. It was new and exciting sure, and he’d always loved her heart of course, but her body was uncharted territory. He was patient, yes. A gentleman guarding some assumed virtue, even if he knew better than to think she was anything but a seductress. Patient enough to tell her no when she’s had one too many drinks and not enough discipline. They’d been friends before anything else - the best of friends with a foundation of trust. He’s spent years trying to gain that trust and he vowed to keep it.

Of course he could have been that guy on many occasions: possessive, selfish, greedy and crude. He could have played his cards and dealt his dirty hand at the wrong moment and still pulled out ahead. I mean hell, how often do guys get out of the friend-zone? But he wasn’t that guy. No matter the relationship status — they weren’t ready.

They hadn’t been ready to cross that carefully drawn line in the sand, not until now. With the strawberry White Barn candle burning in the corner on the cluttered desk one could expect from a college student and a half full can of Arizona tea on the night stand...her face lit with a mystical kind of magic he’d only ever seen the day she leaned back after their first official kiss.

“Hold my hair.”

Grayson found the words slipping off his tongue easier than they’d come all night. All he’s planned on was a simple date in the park that was tucked away and secluded from all the people that could interrupt, he’d even brought her favorite book and laid back on a soft patch of grass to listen to her melodic voice read to him. He’d planned to come back and share a peck or two while watching a new episode of Daredevil and holding her through the night. She’d had a long day full of texts to him, trying to get him to give her the okay to walk out of her low-paying job and not look back. He never planned on laying her down on his bed and caressing every inch of her skin until he was finally delving into a place he’d never been quite like this.

He was nervous but he could do anything, be anything with her hand in his hair and her kind eyes watching him defile her. He just knew from this moment on he would have a reputation to uphold, as cocky as it sounded. He had to prove he wasn’t as lost as he felt. He felt like a virgin all over again, like he was doing something raw and real and scary. A secret only the wrinkled sheets would remind him of later.

Her touch, her soothing him through something that frightened him has always been a crutch for him to lean on. When he got in a fight with his brother, she was there to comb through his hair and talk him through the proper apology, when he decided to change majors and had a breakdown so crippling he couldn’t breathe she rocked him through it until his breath was even once again, when he wrecked his new car on the way home from a party he never should have been at she was right there to give him a kiss on the cheek and help him call the insurance company and his erratic mother who loved her like a daughter. She led him through the rough parts of life and then some.

He never imagined she would be leading him through something so sensual, but he needed her bringing him back to earth all the same.

Jesse obliged with a grin of her own, feeling him shuffle down to trail a string of kisses across her torso and down to the base of her need and desire. The fireball of want burned in her stomach, turning her rational thoughts brown and charred. He was good at that, making her need him fiercely. She’d never wanted anyone so much, and even if she thinks back to past flings - she’d never been satisfied like she was with Grayson, and they’d done much less.

“What are you thinking?” Jesse wonders, distracted by his soft supple lips and his nibbling at her hip, but wanting to hear the inner workings of his brain. Her fingers fidget, wanting to push him by his brown mop of hair down lower - just to feel him at last. She needed this distraction, she just needed his help to forget. Not that she hadn’t been waiting for months for this exact moment, there was just urgency in the way she’s stripped herself bare before him.

She almost expects him to wait for her direction, but jerks against him when he takes the lead all on his own. How could he not with her as his complete mercy, giving him the fuck me eyes and twisting a lock if hair around her finger?

Grayson thinks on that as he trails his mouth down, down, down to slick his tongue up the base of her, smirking to himself when she wiggles against him. “I’m thinking that I like you this way.”

The contact was a shock to her nervous system and a promise of what was soon to come if she kept tempting him the way she was. She was a heathen with angel eyes. Someone infatuated with his innocence (at least he was more innocent than she) and curiosity to learn every curve and dip of her body. He made her feel powerful, unstoppable, undeniable. She craved it as much as he craved her own lips tracking across his skin - in the heat of the moment or in the still of the night.

“Naked you mean?” She laughs then, trying to keep herself at least somewhat under control now that he’s grown some balls and taken the first step. She’s shocked momentarily that she didn’t have to practically order him into touching her.

She grips her breasts at another bold swipe of his tongue. Rolling her hardened nipples between her fingers and tensing at the sparks flying up her center. The feeling of him spreading her open, blowing against her throbbing clit is almost too much to bear. Jesse curses then, a soft “fuck” she tries to reel back before he gets too big of a head. She knows it fell on eager ears when he delivers another bold stripe of his tongue up her center -- slow and deliberate.

“Unguarded,” he finally grumbles, rubbing away the goosebumps that pepper her thighs. She thinks for a moment that she could gave turned off the ceiling fan circling over top of them, but feared she might burn up if it wasn’t for the white blades blowing on her crown of hair going every which way on the pillow.

She ignores how right he is - that she’s never been this vulnerable with him before, but instead rolls her eyelids shut to feel him really delve into her - opening his mouth and pressing his tongue to her flat. This is just what she needed, her favorite person trying something new and succeeding at it.

For someone that’s never given head, he was pulling it off. He was going to ruin her.

Glancing down at the yellow glow of the lamp illuminating the right side of his face, Jesse curled her fingers into his plush head of hair once again, somewhere between heaven and hell with no real knowledge of the difference.

She moans at his lips wrapping around her, the suction to her lower region and the way his thumbs dig into her skin to hold her in place. No running this time, she had no choice but to feel it all. This is what she wanted right?

“This feel okay?” he teases, tentatively trailing the tip of his tongue around the place she wanted most. He loved to see her eyes alight with that devilish incomprehensible lust. He was truly winging it, doing anything he’d heard from friends or watched himself late at night, anything to further her soft pants and moans tumbling out of her O shaped mouth. She was too good to be true and felt like one lucky bastard.

Nodding down to him she groans, wanting him latched to her. “M-more than okay just keep going.”

He never knew it could feel so pleasurable to be the giver and not the receiver nine times out of ten. He didn’t know how selfish he’d been and the opportunities he'd missed to feel compliant and...obedient. He liked it. He loved it. He loved the position he was in - her looking down at him like the goddess she was and always had been, him crouching down at the end of the bed to devour her in the best way he could, his hair disheveled, eyes dark with hunger, hands gripping her tight.

He lets instinct take the wheel, peppering kisses to her clit and bringing his own hand down to slip in a finger to add extra stimulation - pleased when Jesse releases another string of curses. Fowl language huh? Wonder what she’d do if he stopped-

“You’re such a dick-“ she tugs at his roots, rolling her hips into his mouth that savors her now, lips slick with her wetness. She tasted good, he’d concluded. It wasn’t anything like what he imagined it would be, no, it was better. It felt better than all of the horror stories he’d made up in his head. He’s sure if he wanted to - he could stay right down between her legs for hours -- until his lips were sore and his tongue tired. Stopping wasn’t an option. Not when she’s been waiting so long, fantasized too often. She huffs out again “Thought you’ve never done this before.”

That must be a good sign, right?

“Never,” he slurps at her, shaking his head and groaning into her core. He felt the slickness of her on his cheeks now. Bowing down to eat her out was harder than it looked, especially with back problems as it was.

Focused and drunk on Jesse’s gentle hip thrust into his mouth he hugs her thighs and stands upright, just off the edge of the bed, bringing her lower half up in the air with him. He can feel her trembling now, wide eyes gleaming at him with surprise and delight at the new and better position.

She was losing it. She’d had him compliant at first, her soft-hearted boyfriend trying something new...but damn he was tugging the ropes from between her fingers and leading her to a path less traveled. Quick learner he was.

“Grayson put me down! Have you lost your mind?” Jesse squealed, grinning at his closed eyes and moving lips, deaf to her antics. She was expected something quick, maybe even simple, but him switching up positions was not in the game plan as great as it was.

She could see it now, the guy that was always hiding just beneath the surface. She could see how her sounds urged him on and made him try harder. She could see his arms shaking from the weight of her legs and the effort it took to hold her pussy as close to him as he could. She could feel the heavy breath fanning out across her pelvis from his nose. She could feel the tickle of his hair dangling down and whispering across the skin of her stomach. She could feel that same ball of fire seated in her stomach slip lower and lower with each passing second - until the words that fell out of her mouth were nothing but strings of profanity would make a sinner blush.

It was going to sear her in half, that fucking ball of fire. Hot lava stirring up a flood she couldn’t stop. It was splitting her in half just as his digits were now, pumping into her hard and fast, curling at his knuckles. His rings gleam from the yellow lamp-light and shock her when they touch her dewy skin. She had lost all sense of control.

Hearing his own moans, hearing how desperate he was to keep eating her pussy and make her feel better than anyone had, got her inching towards the edge. It was a low kind of growl itching at his throat.

The taste of her blurred his senses, the soft smell of her making his mind spin out of control, the tightening walls of her cunt around his fingers fucking her fast, the light sheen of sweat that glowed in the dim light of his room - he was a madman with no direction but forward. He had to keep going, for stopping would surely break them both. He would love to tease her, but knew if he stopped one more time she would kill him in a heartbeat.

“Open your fucking eyes and watch me.” He barked down to her, stopping only for a moment to glare at her. His fingers continued their fast paced in and out, in and out, in and out.

He’d figured if he was going to take it all the way, he needed to pull every string. Needed to pull out the nasty daydreams and make them a reality. This is something he would have for keeps. Something he’d want to do over and over, something he couldn’t wait to do again. Something he’d want to remember.

Peeling her eyes open she sobbed at the sight of him spitting into her pussy with a smile, staring at her darkly. Light eyes blacked into pits he ruined her through and through. He had to be lying, he just had to be.

“Fast learner,” Grayson sneers, leaning forward to smear his saliva around her slick folds, arms circling her midsection to hold her close again.

“ Fuckfuckfuckfuck- keep fu- keep going!” Jesse begs, barely holding on to the light threatening to slip away into the fire burning her up. “Doing so good Gray, so fucking good.”

She had discovered soon in the relationship and the minimal sexual acts they’d indulged in that Grayson was a man that adored praise. He wanted someone to tell him how good he was doing, even if he already knew it. He wanted someone to look him in the eyes just as she was doing now and watch him succeed. He wanted complete undivided attention, verbal acknowledgment.

He sucked at her still, sliding his tongue into her quickly then — remembering someone in a poorly shot amateur porn video did the same to the tatted up blonde he was practically fucking to death, and hoped it would have the same effect on his beautiful princess begging for him to keep going. He kept note while he watched the video, knowing one day he would be standing where he is now relishing in the gold mine that belonged to him. He fucker her with his tongue, humming into her cunt for the added stimulation.

Fuck all she was the end of him. “Pretty pussy all wet for me, yeah? Want to cum? Bet you doubt me huh? Thought I wouldn’t do you right…”

He chucked at the vigorous nodding of her head, the eyes rolling in the back of her head, the hand that leaves his hip to pull at her own hair. Her eyes squeezing shut in panic now that she feels the tip of the iceberg coming up fast.

“Don’t even know how crazy you drive me, how long I’ve wanted to do this to you.”

Hearing him admit it only made her thighs quiver against his strong arms, only made her want more, made her creep dangerously close to the edge she was for once in her life afraid to fall off of. The crash into the sea would be the biggest shock she’s ever had. Jesse tried to focus on her breathing, trading the heaving for squealing when he dipped his tongue in her entrance to give her something to fantasize about. She’d never had someone tongue fuck her, let alone stair into her soul while they did it.

Fuck he was good. Too fucking good.

“Baby you have t-to slow down,” she warns, the big splash terrifying and so close. He was a wicked man for doing just the opposite, spreading her legs wider and shaking his head against her again, eyes squeezed shut like he knew what would happen in only a few seconds.

“Grayson step back,” she tried to warn more firmly, afraid of the unfamiliar feeling of something new about to happen, embarrassed already but too worked up to stop it. “Shit - Grayson step back!”

And there it was, the strongest orgasm she’d ever had and certainly the wettest. Her release soaked the bed beneath, sheets spotted with her arousal and breath stolen from her lungs. She’s not sure when Grayson had dropped her, or whether her convulsing body wiggled out of his grasp during the black out she’d just had. She was spread on the bed in her own mess, her chest flushed, damp hair stuck to her forehead in waves, vision blurred, eyelids drooping in exhaustion, hand somehow in Graysons.

He’s there then. He’s everywhere and nowhere all at once, his hand a ghost on her forehead brushing away those tendrils of hair, his thumb rubbing over her knuckles with tender care, his lips smoothing the furrow of her brows. Grayson is lifting her without a word, caging her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, and smoothing her head against his chest to feel the weight of her there - just to feel the heat of her consume him.

“Holy fuck,” she breathes, spent.

“I hope it wasn’t too much,” he whispers into her hair, hand smoothing over the locks while rocking her around the room, mind racing with every image of what he’d just done and the feeling of complete bliss flooding his body.

He’s almost worried she fell asleep in his arms until he feels the shaking he can only assume is laughter, before she’s hugging him tighter. “Idiot. I can’t believe you’ve never done that. And I can’t believe I’m this tired. Feel like a rookie.”

“Guess I passed the test then?”

“Flying colors.”

Jesse nuzzles in as far as she can, tucking in her arms against his chest and letting the state of Nirvana wash over her. With a sigh Jesse thinks over the shocking events of her boyfriend being 100% nastier than she’d initially thought — not that she’s complaining.

She barely remembers Grayson running a bath, or setting her in the steaming tub with a kiss, or waiting for him to strip the bed with a giddiness sitting in his chest at all that they’d done, barely remembers him joining her in the tub and catching soap in the calm of his hand to smith the suds over her post-sex body. That’s the only way she would describe herself in the moment, her skin felt sensitive to the touch, sparks still shooting through her with the feeling of his hands on her.

What Jesse does remember is laying with Grayson in a bed freshly made, arm draped over his stomach, head resting against his arm, lips peppering kisses against his chest randomly through-out the night. She remembers the feeling of adoration and understanding. What they’d done was both the most foul thing she’d ever done, but also the most liberating and beautiful experience. To lose yourself in another person in such a way that you’re utterly consumed by them was...foreign to the pair laying together in the still of the night.

Jesse waited until Grayson was softly snoring until she said the only thing she’d never had the guts to tell him in the months they’d been dating. He’d been waiting on it patiently. It was different between friends, but it meant so much more when you don't want to say it to anyone else for the rest of your life. The moment she says it, she can’t ever take it back. Maybe that’s why she chooses the early hours of the morning to lean in and press her lips against his feather soft, blinking back the mist clouding her vision.

“Don’t know if you could tell...but I'm kind of in love with you...so just be patient with me please I’m trying for you.”

Maybe she would get the guts one day to say the words while he’s awake, maybe face to face or with the lights off because she has some kind of comfort in the dark, or maybe it would slip out on accident. In any way that it happens, she hopes he will smile. She hopes that he knows how insanely incandescently happy he makes her each and every day, and how honored she feels that she got to experience another first with him.She hopes he will be comforted that his feelings are 100% reciprocated. She hopes that she gets to see that beautiful smile he wears on special occasions -- the true smile that he doesn't show too often. For now she presses her lips to his once again, smiling softly as the slow ride and fall of his chest, arm holding her close, the ring she won him out of a shitty machine in the corner of a tattoo shop he’d stopped into on a whim secured on a thin chain around his neck, and the fluttering of his eyelashes while he dreamed.

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starkerforlife6969 · 3 years

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Starker - The Beach War

Peter loves the sunshine.

He loves the sand under his toes, the little shore-line waves bumping against his ribs, he loves the sound of gulls swooping low, but he loves the sunshine most of all.

Steve warns him not to spend too much time out in the sun. Steve buys him sunscreen and umbrellas and hats.

But if the damning red crest over the bridge of his nose is anything to go by- Peter takes little heed.

“I’m going to aerobics,” Peter chirps sweetly, pouring coffee into Steve’s mug and reaching for his headband on a Tuesday morning.

His husband, in slacks and a still-unbuttoned shirt, looks up from the morning paper with a small, curious smile. “Didn’t you go yesterday?”

Peter nods, “I like it.”

“Alright. I suppose you deserve to enjoy yourself. Now that I’m officially a ballot candidate, thanks to you.”

Peter smiles warmly, reaching over to kiss Steve’s mouth and wipe the toast crumbs from his husband’s chin. “We all collected those signatures.”

Steve laughs at his modesty. “It’s one step closer to stopping Stark from destroying this town. I won’t rest till it’s done, Pete. Bucky’s coming over today, to help with the campaign.”

“Okay. Well, there’s lasagne in the fridge left over, will you two be alright?”

“Yeah.” His blue eyes run over Peter’s face. “Have you been wearing suncream?”

“Yes,” Peter lies, but is it really a lie? He tries to. He does, at least like, 50% of the time. Maybe 40.

Steve accepts it easily, and kisses Peter again, and then Peter’s out of the door and into the sunshine and free.

***

Class is perfect. Adrenaline-pumping, vibrant, fantastic, and it fills Peter with energy and when it’s over, dripping with sweat as he heads into the cool, air-conditioned bliss of the mall and wiggles his toes in his shoes.

He’s free the whole day.

He’s going to spend it in the water. On the beach.

He buys a danish from the new mall store, and is heading for the automatic doors when it catches his eye.

A familiar face. Or rather, fifteen of that unfamiliar face, splashed across a display for the new colour tvs. Beck. Peter stops despite himself and watches through the glass as fifteen Quinten Beck’s lecture on how environmental restrictions are really just restricting progress.

Peter takes another bite of his Danish and warm icing dribbles down his fingers. He licks it off angrily. Ugh, Beck. He was a dick in college, and he’s an even bigger dick now. What did Peter ever see in him?

He scoffs, turning away, only to come face-to-face with-

Oh. Handsome. Very handsome. Peter can’t help but be a little winded at the tanned skin, groomed hair and expensive suit and then-

Oh. Shit. It’s Tony Stark. Is it? It must be. It looks like him from the papers, and the interviews and- Yes. Yes, it is. The camera’s, already flattering, still don’t do him justice. It’s Tony Stark. Standing right here, in the mall that he had all those trees chopped down to make.

“You seemed drawn to him, and then you scoffed. It doesn’t speak to you?”

Peter blinks. Stark’s voice is lovely. Smooth. Just how it sounds in the adverts. “Oh!” Peter hums, hastily swallowing his mouthful of Danish. Stark’s eyes are roving over him- not even subtly. What is he looking for? Peter shifts a little in his workout gear. These shorts are very short, he must look- there’s probably icing on his lips and- “I don’t- I wasn’t drawn to him.” Peter insists, “I just know him- uh, Beck. I know him in real life.”

“I see,” Stark grins, eyes all amused, “do you have one?”

Peter blinks. He watches Tony’s eyes dip over his form once again. Rest on his lips. Peter licks them reflexively. He knows Tony isn’t married, but- “I do. I’m uh- I’m married. Sorry.”

Tony laughs, and Peter feels his cheeks flush. “I meant: do you have a colour tv? I know you’re married.”

Peter frowns. How is that possible- oh. He glances at his ring and manages a little laugh. “Perceptive.” He hums.

Tony lifts an eyebrow, a little quizzically. “No.” He says slowly, “I know who you are, Peter Rogers. I saw the “Save our Wave” campaign. You and your husband. Smart way to launch. Ocean in the background. You looked….radiant.”

Oh god. Tony Stark knows who he is.

Peter brushes his hair behind his ears and doesn’t know what to say. “Uh...thank you.”

Tony grins. “Good ad. But it won’t be enough. It can’t stop progress.” Tony steps forward, so they’re a little closer than what’s proper, and his voice drops into something lower. His fingers graze Peter’s bare shoulder. “But I’m not sure you want to stop progress, do you, pumpkin?”

Is he talking about his aerobics outfit? Or the fact he was watching colour tv? Or the fact that he’s in the mall, having just finished a mall class, eating a mall-pastry, and watching mall-tv? Despite the fact that he’s supposedly against the mall.

Peter ignores the ripple of goosebumps that spread across his skin. He lifts his nose, but Tony still towers over him. “I do not agree wih Quinten Beck.” He snaps. “I’m sorry, but we do care about the environment. And we’re not going to have our beach destroyed for another mall.”

He pulls away then, pushing past Tony.

“Peter,” Tony says, and he can’t help but look back. Tony stands there, stupidly handsome, hands in his pockets, and his voice is as cool as the ocean-breeze when he says, “If I were married to you, I’d put you in my campaign videos too. You’ve got a face that changes minds, sweetheart.”

Another furious, heated blush, and Peter bumbles out into the sunshine.

Beach. He needs to go to the beach. Stat.

***

Peter’s freckles always make their debut in the LA Summer.

He serves a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade as he, Steve and Bucky take lunch out on the patio.

Bucky and Steve are pressed close together. It’d be odd, if it wasn’t so commonplace. But Peter expects it now. They’re childhood friends. It’s fine, probably. He tries not to think about it too much. Because he knows Steve. And Steve is kind and loyal, and even if he wanted to- he wouldn’t cheat on Peter.

Unfortunately, Peter thinks Steve might want to. More and more lately, now that Bucky’s basically been living here to help with the campaign.

“Thanks, Sweatpea,” Bucky murmurs, as Peter refills his glass.

For the man who’s stealing away his husband, Peter should probably like Bucky less. “No problem, James. Do you guys want more pecan pie?”

“It’s alright, sugar. Steve and I will eat at the community luncheon.”

Peter blinks. He turns to Steve, who looks away bashfully.

“What?” Bucky asks, reading their faces.

“We were invited to the Harrisson’s gala this afternoon.” Peter points out, still looking at Steve’s face, “it’s a great opportunity to raise some funds-”

“It’s a stuck up crowd,” Bucky points out, not incorrectly, “not exactly who we want associated with Steve’s campaign.”

“Right,” Peter hums, because Steve had a choice between him and Bucky, and Bucky’s already won.

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Steve says earnestly, reaching his large hand across the table to take Peter’s. Bucky looks away. “I just feel the luncheon has a lot more to offer. You can go to the gala by yourself, can’t you? You’re more than amazing without me dragging you down.”

Not true. Peter thinks, because as much as he loves being free, Steve’s all-American home spun wholesomeness always leaves a trail of admirers.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “You guys have fun.”

He collects the rest of the dishes and takes them inside, unaware that he has a Bucky-shaped shadow until he’s corned next to the kitchen sink.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says, bowing his head, and Peter half-smiles. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I knew you guys had already-”

“It’s alright.” Peter says softly, “I think he would rather be with you anyway.”

Bucky’s eyes snap to his, ice-blue and frightened and hopeful. “Pete…” he says, voice a little raw. “It’s not…”

“You guys alright in there?” Steve calls from outside.

Peter ducks under Bucky’s arm, and it isn’t very difficult to make his voice bright when he calls back: “Just fine!”

***

The Harrison’s own a ridiculously nice estate, and Peter only feels a little out of place. He’s in the dark blue silks he brought with him to LA all those years ago, and Mr Harrisson greets him warmly at the door.

It’s...better than he thought it would be. It turns out he doesn’t really need Steve. At all, actually. He’s clever and he has his degree and he knows a lot about the environment. People like him. They respond to him. It’s-

“Just look at you,” comes a whistle, and Peter turns slowly to see Tony Stark in a tuxedo.

Fuck. It’s a very tasty sight. Tastier than the crab rolls being handed out, and they were pretty damn incredible.

“You’re just working the room, aren’t you, honey?” Tony drawls, voice dripping with appreciation and something low and dark and-

“I’m uh, I’m trying,” Peter manages, feeling his cheeks flush.

Tony looks like he wants to step closer, but he doesn’t. Peter kind of- maybe a little- wants him too. “And where’s your very lucky husband?”

“Oh, he’s...he’s not here.”

Tony’s eyes light up. “Really? Well, how about you and me get some air?”

The Harrison’s house sits on the beach, and Peter kicks off his shoes and is pulled down onto the sand as easy as breathing.

God, the ocean air. He rolls up his trousers, sinks his feet into the cold, trembling waves.

“Just look at you,” Tony hums, and Peter turns to see he’s being watched, and Tony’s skin looks even better lit by the sunset.

“You said that already,” he points out, feeling bolder, braver, now that he’s out on the beach.

“Well, maybe that’s because I can’t stop looking at you.”

Peter blushes, before stepping into the water a little further. “Are you going to join me? Or do you hate the ocean as much as you claim?”

Tony obligingly toes off his shoes. “Never said I hated the ocean. Don’t get me mixed up with Beck. I just know that sometimes we’ve gotta sacrifice things in the name of progress. Technology. The future.”

Tony pulls off his bowtie, slips off his jacket, and then comes and wades into his knees.

“Gotta sacrifice things,” Peter echoes, “like the ocean. Like trees. Who needs ‘em, right? They only give us oxygen.”

Tony grins at him. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you, Peter? I thought you liked my mall. Or wasn’t that you? In that gorgeous little aerobics get up? Eating one of those danishes- to die for, aren’t they? Wasn’t that you, sighing at a colour tv?”

Peter scoffs because he doesn’t have a comeback, and he glances out at the horizon.

“You were mine, sweetheart, you’d be purring away with that tv at your feet. I’d buy you a hundred if you wanted ‘em. You wouldn’t want for anything.”

Jesus. Peter tries to stifle the flood of arousal that courses through him. “I’d be wanting for a husband that cared about protecting our coast line.” He manages, though it sounds a little weak.

“The coast line,” Tony hums, reaching a hand down to plunge into the water. “The beach. You a surfer?”

“No, I just...I like the beach, it makes me feel…” free “...it’s the beach. It’s nature. It’s not for us to bend and re-shape for another mall, Tony.”

Tony chuckles, “I do like to hear you say my same.”

Peter scowls, and heads back for the sand. A few splashes later, Tony follows. “You can’t...I don’t know, you can’t seduce me into supporting you.”

Tony’s hand grips around his wrist just before Peter reaches his shoes, and he’s looking up into very dark brown eyes, and a very, very appealing mouth. “I’m not trying to change your mind.” Tony murmurs, “I’m just trying to see where it is you stand. You like the mall, you didn’t mind the trees being cut down there, but the beach. The beach is where you have a problem. It’s your line.”

“It-it’-it’s not about me.” Peter stutters, feeling exposed, “My husband is the one running for-”

“And I am trying to seduce you. Have been since I saw you in that advert. Couldn’t get you out of my head. Thought they’d hired a model at first, and then I found out you were married to him. I couldn’t believe it.”

Oh. Warmth buzzes through his skin, flattered and delighted and giddy, Peter doesn’t know what in the name of hell possesses him to say: “He’s not going to be my husband for much longer.”

Tony’s eyebrows lift in surprise. Then he smirks. His hand is still wrapped around Peter’s wrist. “That so?”

A few other guests pull out onto the beach now, and Peter spots Mrs Harrisson in the distance.

“Save our wave, Mr Stark,” he whispers, unable to stop smiling, as he gathers his shoes and heads over.

***

He and Steve have sex that night.

It’s the best sex they’ve had in a long time. Passionate, erotic, and Peter knows why. It’s because he was just with Tony, and Steve was just with Bucky, and they’re both pretending.

Afterwards, still warm from the haze, they look at one another.

“I’m so sorry, Pete,” Steve whispers, voice-choked up, and Peter brushes away his tears.

“Don’t be. Where you are, it’s where I am. You and Bucky are made for each other.”

“You have someone too?” Steve asks. Peter nods. “Okay. Okay, but not till...not till after the campaign. Divorce…” the word makes him jerk a little, and Peter soothes him, “it could rock things.”

“After the campaign,” Peter nods, and they sleep in each other’s arms, and maybe it shouldn’t feel like everything’s going to be okay, but it does.

***

Steve annihilates Tony in the televised debate.

Peter knew he would. Tony is clever and pithy, but Steve is earnest, and kind, and people can see that. They can feel that. Tony handles it as well as he can, but it’s clear by the end of the interview- Steve is ahead.

Peter swims back towards the shore.

He’s still wet as he pads into the mall and heads for the pastry-store.

“I’ll get that,” Tony says, appearing from nowhere and handing over the money before Peter can fish his wallet from his ocean-wet shorts.

Tony’s hand is on the small of his back then, guiding him towards the food court, and soon Peter’s eating his pastry on a plastic red chair, and looking at Tony with wide, innocent eyes.

Tony breaks first.

“So, your husband’s campaign is a little stronger than I thought.”

Peter laughs. The sound seems to make Tony light up, and that just- Peter’s stomach tightens.

“My advisor’s are a little worried.”

“Steve is very good.” Peter agrees, taking another bite.

Tony leans across the table, and his cologne makes Peter want. “I’m better, though, Pete, is the thing.”

“Are we still talking about the campaign?”

“Let’s get dinner.” Tony says suddenly, “please. I know it’s early, but I am burning with it, Pete. I think about you all the time, I can’t keep staking out beaches and malls hoping to run into you.”

“What if someone sees us? What about Steve’s campaign-”

“It’d hurt mine just the same. Who gets the sympathy? The man being cheated on, or the man who slept with a married guy?”

Peter pulls the pastry apart with his fingers. “Just dinner?”

“At my house.”

Peter laughs, scandalised, “dinner at your house? How easy do you think I am?”

“Not easy at all. You’re fucking difficult, sweetheart. Look at what you’re wearing, fuck, it’s like you want to torture me.”

Peter tries not to blush and fails. His voice is gentle though, when he voices his main concern: “And what happens if once you’ve...once we’ve...what happens then? Curiosity satisfied, you might not want to see me anymore.”

Tony reaches across the table to touch Peter’s hand. Peter looks around worriedly, but nobody is paying them any mind.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Tony whispers, more serious than Peter has ever seen him. “Peter, I would never get bored of you.”

“It’s happened before,” Peter says weakly, and doesn’t realise how true it is until it’s spoken aloud. The pain for the divorce yet to happen ripples across his chest. Oh god, where has this been? Someone loved him once, and then found someone else-

“I’m gonna crush him.” Tony vows, voice vicious, as soon as he spots the glitter of Peter’s tears. “I’m going to destroy his campaign-”

“No, no,” Peter insists, sniffling, and managing a small smile. “Steve is- he’s a good guy, Tony. A good guy with a good cause, you don’t need to,” Peter huffs fondly, “you don’t need to protect my honour.

“Alright,” Tony says, a little bit like he’s unconvinced, so Peter squeezes his hand.

“I want to have dinner with you. I want to feel your hands on me- I- I think about it all the time. And afterwards, I want...more.” Peter looks down at their hands. “You said you’d get me anything.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Tony whispers, “I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

***

The mall gets made.

In the next town over. The beach is saved. Steve wins.

They divorce.

Steve hugs him. Bucky hugs him. There’s a lot of crying, but then Peter’s being picked up in a ludicrously nice hot-red car, and there’s Tony and kissing and a house in Malibu right on the sand.

There’s a wedding, and teasing, and arguments. There’s sex. A lot of sex. There’s swimming and living and life under the sun.

There’s a thousand things. A million things.

And every day with Tony promises more.

When Peter wakes up, ready for the beach, Tony slathers him with suncream and for some reason it doesn’t feel like he’s trapped.

Maybe it was never about the suncream.

He still loves the beach. And the sunshine. And the gulls swooping low and the sand under his toes, but-

But he doesn’t need it to feel free. He feels free right here, in bed, tangled up with Tony and the promise of more.

#starker #physical inspired #background Steve x peter #no cheating #politician tony #80s setting #aerobics #Peter parker #Tony stark #Tony x peter

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dailydaydreamings · 3 years

Text

Best in the Worst Way, Chapter 14

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

Okay okay, warning. This one got away from me (18+). Also, as always, I outdid myself on the swearing. It’s a little shorter, but for a reason. Thank you to all the responses! Enjoy this part :)

You have this memory in your head.

You’re not sure when it happened, it must have been early in your relationship though, because Steve and Bucky weren’t living with you yet.

The morning starts off so beautifully slow. Dawn breaks and your room fills with soft light. It was one of the few mornings you didn’t have to set an alarm.

You wake to feel slow, sloppy kisses up your naked back. You moan, curling back against Bucky. You feel the slow prodding of Steve’s fingers as he teases you awake.

You moan again, still not sure if you’re dreaming. “Good morning.”

Bucky grinds himself against your rear. You can feel Steve sliding himself over your entrance. You gasp, clutching at the sheets, desperation hitting you hard and fast. It doesn’t matter they kept you up all night. You wanted them both now.

“Please,” you murmur, leaning forward to wrap a leg around Steve. “Oh, please, please, please.”

Bucky’s stubble tickles that sensitive spot on your neck and you jerk backwards into his embrace. “So polite in the morning,” he bites at your ear. “But not very specific. Use your words baby, please what?”

His hands slide up to grasp your breasts. Steve moans in front of you, gripping your hips, but still not giving you what you want. Your hips buck faster, more erratically, hoping he can just slip in.

“Stop it, Steve,” Bucky grunts.

Steve practically whines but does as he’s told.

“No,” you keep moving on him, desperate now for some friction. “Please.”

“Please, what?” Bucky’s tongue licks the inside of your ear.

“Please,” your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Please fuck me.”

Bucky chuckles darkly, tweaking a nipple, “How should we fuck you, hm?”

You bit your lip, “I want both of you. To fuck me, just like this.”

Bucky bite on your ear lobe, “All you had to do was ask, baby.” And with almost no warning, he, already lubed, slides into you from behind.

“Oh!” You gasp, needing a second to adjust to the suddenness.

Steve leans forward, sucking on that spot to help you relax. In half a second you’re moaning and begging for more again. Steve grabs your leg, wrapping it around himself and enters you slower, more gently.

You moan deeply, your head falling back against Bucky’s shoulder.

“How does she feel, Steve?” Bucky asks, his hand stroking up and down your side.

Steve only moans in response. The sound causing you to drag your nails down his back. You reach back to grip the back of Bucky’s neck, withering between them. Steve sets the pace, grinding into you, sending you back into Bucky, who pushes you forward again.

Steve’s mouth comes down to your neck and that’s it, you’re release rockets through you thanks to the extreme pleasure of the two of them inside of you.

Their lazy, morning pace continues. They get two more out of you before the three of you are left gasping, clutching to each other for air. You could die right now, right here, and you would be perfectly happy, you realize.

Steve kisses the top of your head as he rolls away, asking if you want pancakes or French toast. Bucky kisses your cheek, saying he’s going to run out to your favourite coffee shop.

The rest of the day was just as perfect. You eat breakfast, you drag the boys to the beach. Bucky refuses to go in the water and Steve gets a wicked sunburn, but they fall asleep tangled together in the sand while you read your book. It starts to rain at some point, just misting. It wakes them up and as you reach the boardwalk, it starts to pour.

You take cover in an ice cream shop, with the most ridiculous flavours. Between the three of you, nearly all of them were tried much to the dismay of the shop owner, but then you each bought a giant cone.

The rain didn’t let up, and the air conditioning plus your wet clothing made it unbearable after a while. You make a break for the car and Bucky blasts the heat, while you sit there waiting for the rain to stop.

You head home, have dinner, and someone mentions that there’s a late showing of a new movie, you’ll make it if you leave now. You run to the car, and miss the previews, but you sit between your boys, happy as can be. Even if the three of you fell asleep and had to be woken up the usher when it was over.

It was one of the happiest days of your life. There was no work, no missions, no stress. Just the three of you. You could just be.

It is a moment you search for when things feel impossible. When you want to throw something at Steve. When Bucky forgets something and you feel like you’re losing parts of him. The perfect day. Even with the sunburns, the sand caking your bodies, the wet clothes in your car, the wasted movie ticket. None of it mattered, except for the people around you. Because it was also the day you realized you loved them.

It’s what you remind yourself of as you drive to the hospital as another contraction hits. Your stomach tightens painfully and your whole body goes rigid.

You cry out, your hand grasping the arm rest with a death grip. The pain would be worth it. The babies would be here soon. It’ll all be fine. Totally fucking fine. But holy fuck it hurt.

“Can you go any fucking slower?” You look over at Bucky. He, for the record, looks about ready to pass out but is still in better shape than Steve.

“I swear this is the only day ever there is traffic,” Bucky mumbles. He wasn’t wrong, the drive normally took less than twenty minutes. They’d already been driving for thirty.

Steve rubs your shoulders from the backseat, “Isn’t there that festival downtown today?”

You turn in your seat, swatting Steve’s hands away, “That would have been helpful before we left, you—”

You cut yourself off as another contraction hits. You brace your hands against the door. Holy shit this hurt.

“They’re really close together,” Steve mumbles.

“Thank you for your fucking observation,” you pant. Holy shit they were. Your head lulls back against the seat. You just needed a moment, just one second to breathe. Please.

Bucky’s hand comes to pet your leg, “You’re doing great, baby. Almost there.”

“I’m never fucking doing this again,” you mumble, wanting to curl into a ball as you can already feel another one coming.

You expected the pain, but this was too much too fast. There was no time to adjust. No break between contractions.

“I feel like I need to push,” you gasped as the last one finished. There was a new pressure. You’d always wondered what women meant when they said they needed to push and this was it.

“It’s way too early,” Steve rubs your shoulders again. “You’re hours away.”

You barely manage a moan, reaching back to grab his hand, desperate for some contact now. “I’m not joking. I really feel like I need to push.”

Bucky shot you a look, “We’re two minutes out. You’re not having these babies in the car.”

You groan. The longest two minutes of your life later, you’re pulling up. Steve is out, calling for a wheelchair before helping you to your feet. You lean against him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

A nurse comes running out, helping you into your chair, “How are we doing, mama?” She asks.

You shake your head, bracing yourself through another contraction. When it eases, you gasp, “I feel like I need to push.”

She shoots Steve a look, “How long has she been in labour?”

“About an hour and a half?” They’d guesstimated it. Your contractions really hadn’t been painful or consistent until you started dinner.

She shakes her head, starting to wheel you inside, “You’ve got hours to go before that, don’t worry hon.”

You grip the arm rests like a vice. You were not going to be able to handle hours more of this. If this wasn’t time to push, you weren’t looking forward to what it was going to feel like. The pressure was insane.

Bucky jogged up beside you as you were wheeled up to admitting.

“Are you the father?” The nurse asks.

“Yes.” Both boys answer in unison.

She looks up in surprise, but waves you all in. They help you into a gown, into bed.

Dr Lawrence waltzes in, “I was not hoping to see you three for a couple more weeks. How are you, y/n?”

Not well. The pressure you were feeling was becoming unbearable. You grasp the sheets, your teeth clench together as you grind out, “I’m telling you all, I need to push.”

Dr Lawrence shakes her head, “You have hours to go. I was going to have my student do your first look, is that okay?”

“Fuck, fine,” you cover your eyes with your hand. “I want an epidural. And soon.”

Dr Lawrence shakes her head, “We’ll let you labour for a while. It’ll only slow things down now.”

“Oh fuck me,” you murmur, pressing a hand to you eyes.

Bucky kisses the top of your head, “You’re doing great.”

Steve squeezes your other hand, “We just want what’s best, baby, it’ll be over before you know it.” You wanted to smack him in the face. No, the groin.

You life your legs into the stirrups as the student takes a look. You feel some pressure as they check your dilation and then, “Um, Dr Lawrence...”

Your head shoots up, “What’s wrong?”

Steve and Bucky are on either side of you, their hands tighten on yours.

Dr Lawrence practically shoved the student out of the way, “Let me see...” Her eyes widen, “Oh, you do need to push.”

You straighten, “What?”

She looks up at you from between your legs, “You’re ten centimetres dilated. I can see the first baby’s head. It’s coming right now.”

You frantically look between your boys, terror rocketing through you, “I want the epidural. Now.”

Dr Lawrence shakes her head, “oh, it’s too late for that now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Bucky squeezes your hand, “You’ll be fine, baby.”

Steve leans forward to kiss your forehead, “You’ve got this, baby.”

“Oh the next contraction, you need to push,” Dr Lawrence commands.

Well fuck.

And you push. And push. And push.

You fall back against the bed. Gasping. Your whole body on fire.

“One more push!”

You wanted to shake your head, to turn away and cry. But the contraction built up and you screamed as you pushed. Hard.

And then the first baby is out. You grasp your boys hands to your chest as you wait for a cry. It’s too early, it’s only thirty-two weeks. You know that they might not cry, they might go straight to the ICU, but—

A wail fills the room.

You let go of their hands, desperately reaching for your baby.

“It’s a boy!” Dr Lawrence places the baby against your chest.

“Oh,” you gasp. “Hello.”

Your perfect, perfect baby boy. Who is still crying, but you wrap your arms around him, holding him close.

“Oh my god,” Bucky mumbles, reaching out to touch his cheek. His perfect little cheek.

Steve kisses the top of your head, “Good job, baby.”

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, you can feel your whole body trembling. The whole ordeal isn’t over, but he’s so perfect.

“I love you so much, Henry,” you murmur, as the nurse reaches out to take him from your arms.

“Okay, good job, y/n,” Dr Lawrence says, “One more to go.”

And you push. And push.

Nothing happens. This is harder than the first time. You collapse backward, gasping for air.

“Can we get some oxygen for her please,” Dr Lawrence’s voice cuts through the room, and a mask is fitted over your nose. “Okay, one more push.”

You push again. And again. And again. You flop against the bed. Your head is spinning, and no baby yet.

“Come on, one more push,” Steve kisses the top of your head.

You can only shake your head, you can’t even tell him you can’t. You can’t do this. Your body is failing you. The ones thing it is supposed to do, you can’t do.

“Damn it, prepare for a c-section,” Dr Lawrence calls out.

“What?” You hear Steve gasp.

“The last baby isn’t coming,” Dr Lawrence’s voice is beginning to sound very far away. “Y/n stats are dropping and so is the baby’s. We need to get the baby out now.”

Tags

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark @spookyparadisesheep @bloodbrink @holl2712 @navs-bhat @animegirlgeeky @fanofalltheficsx @obsssedwithjustaboutanything

#bucky barnes #stucky x pregnant!reader #steve x pregnant!reader #bucky x steve x reader #steve x reader #bucky x pregnant!reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky x reader #stucky #pregnant reader

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herstarburststories · 3 years

Text

Home in a Motel Pool

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: Dean and you have some fun in the motel's pool.

A/N: This one took a little longer than I thought, but here it's! Wet Dean in motel pool for us. So canon compliant of me, I know I know. This piece is my submission for @deanwanddamons 's 1st Blogiversary and 2K follower celebration with the prompt in bold. Congrats again, honey! And it's also my part for @anaelsbrunette 's YAS’S POC READER CHALLENGE with the song Home by Depeche Mode. Thanks for the extra time and the marvelous challenge!

Warnings: sex in the pool, p in v, dirty talk

Hunting was brutal. Even when the hunters won, it was a victory with no triumph-- there would be someone dead, always a corpse and loved one weeping as a reminder that you and the Winchesters couldn’t save everyone. You’d come around the town, tell the folks what they wanted to hear to get some information, kill the thing, and luckily save a person or two. It was a page from the emptiest stage, a show for a crowd of three: you, Sam, and Dean. Their own critics and praisers, doctors and patients, sinners and saints.

And if your hands were melted and molded into killing machines, you better pray for your heart to be made of anything but gold. That job didn't leave space or time for tenderness. In order to hunt the prey, you must become ferocious. Attack anything on sight, sing to the loneliest sound that’s the gunshot in the dark, pretend that you’ll make amends only to end up befriending the glorious end of the line that often came too soon.

Thing is, it wasn’t just about that. It would be easier if it was all about perfect soldiers and ultimate killers. A black and white world stained with crimson red would be the ideal, but there were always more colors.

Certainly, it wasn’t the most illustrious job one could get. If anything, it was unfair and underpaid and the seed of violence. Every hunter happened to do things they never could speak about, and all the blood got so normalized to the point red is just the color that pointed you were doing it right. like a good grade or a father’s head pat. Where was the seat on the table for any gentless to sit down in the chaos? In the thankful hugs from the mothers of the rescued children, in the pranks the boys came up with against each other for no other reason but childish nostalgia, in the nights where the three of you stopped and sat on Baby’s hood to watch the stars in silence, in the way Dean’s tough hands touched your cheek so lovingly, in the smell of the Impala’s wheels burning against the streets. Summarizing, when saving people wasn’t reasoning enough, kindness appeared glistening in the middle of the pandemonium, as a paragon of something good in cruelty.

Just like this moment.

‘’My body aches in places I didn’t even know that could hurt.’’ You groaned as you got out of the classic black car, hand on the back of your neck to apply some pressure. Even being thrown against a wall by some demon hurt less than sleeping in the backseat-- sweet mundane problems.

Sam scoffed before adding insult to injury, ‘’At least you were sleeping and didn’t have to hear the same cassette three times.’’

‘’Quit whining, you two. I was the one driving through two states.’’ Dean said in a huff, swirling the keys as the three of you walked towards Bonita Motel’s entrance. He placed an arm around your waist, his own way of showing affection in quietude. Your hand slipped inside his leather jacket’s pocket. ‘’Sides’, Baby’s backseat is comfortable and Zeppelin is awesome.’’

The youngest Winchester refrained his response to an eye roll and a mumble among the lines not when played three times in a row. You, though, turned your head to the side and offered your stubborn boyfriend a cynical smile.

‘’I prefer a bed.’’

He aimed at you with his signature lopsided grin, the one he knew that you loved, while you passed through the main door of the establishment. ‘’That’s not what you said last week.’’

‘’Guys, limits.’’ Sam pleaded, shaking his head at Dean’s comment before turning around. He made a chatter that quickly got old with the woman behind the counter, gaining two keys. The long haired hunter tossed one at his brother, who quickly grabbed it with his free hand.

‘’This is a good motel…’’ You commented as the three walked upstairs, the gleaming blue sight caughting your brown eyes. Your whole body shone as if it was really a beach and not only a cheap motel’s pool. Dean and Sam had never gone to the beach, but you grew up with salt aired weekends, a collection of swimsuits, and a loud family on the sand. You missed the sensation of being held by the ocean so dearly. It wouldn’t be the same, nothing was after you jumped in Dean’s Impala in New York; hustling for some other life, a better one like your parents when they came to the United States. Yet, a pool could be diverting and cozy. Pulling away from your man’s hold, you approached the small chlorine miracle.

‘’There’s a pool!’’ You pointed out, as excited as a kid in a carnival. ‘’We should take a swim.’’

‘’You guys go. I have some research to do.’’ Sam nodded at the pool with his head, denying the request with a sleight of hand as he opened the lock of the room 209. ‘’Have fun, kids.’’

The green eyed man clicked his tongue when his brother disappeared with the craike of a door. He wasn’t exactly against the idea of jumping in the pool - apart from the germes, but his paranoia wouldn’t mind that much, not after trying endless motel’s bathtubs. The drive here had just been too long. Besides, if that crap motel had a well-cleaned pool, it probably had vibrating beds. He could use a massage. ‘’I think I’ll get crash in bed.’’

You arched an eyebrow. ‘’Didn’t you say that Baby’s backseat was comfortable to sleep?’’

‘’How taller than you I am, sweetheart?’’ He smirked as you walked back to him like you always did, your own north star in shape of a magnetic force of a man,

‘’Shush.’’ You slapped his chest playfully, wrapping your arms around Dean’s neck. ‘’Come on. Most motels we go to barely have a door, much less a pool. I miss going swimming. It’s a sunny day…’’ The childish joy in your tone metamorphosed into a newfound malice. ‘’You’ll get to see me in a bikini.’’

The Winchester wiggled his messy brows at your statement, suddenly reinvigorated as he placed his arms around your waist to bring you closer. Forget the body ache and all that, that was a way better reason to be sore in the bones later. ‘’You made some good points.’’

‘’I always do.’’ You kept the adamant tone, even when you could feel his breath on your cheek, those green eyes so livid when looking at you. God, you had to put a period here before things escalated and you two ended up getting to right in the middle of the hall. You attempt to make a joke: ‘’Darling it’s better, down where it’s wetter.’’

He knew it was a prompt from The Little Mermaid-- you two had watched two days ago in Tupelo, in a vintage television after killing a Ghoul, while Sam got some junk food. Yet, the kind of smile that brought to his face held anything but purity. A simple conversation became double-edged with Dean Winchester. You two often ended up breathless, either from fighting or from doing more entertaining dances. You should’ve seen that one coming.

‘’I know another wet spot.’’ He’d say, unholy significance trapped in each word as his right hand started to motion over your skin, guiding his greedy finger under your skirt. Your mouth was set in a grim line, a surprisingly determinate attempt to hold back a moan. You and Dean could do it in the pool, unite the good infant memories with the tent-like emotions of adulthood to make a grand deal.

‘’You’ll get all of me wet.’’ You kissed the corner of his lips, smoothly pulling away with a wink. So much self control. ‘’Hurry up, cowboy.’’

You grabbed your bag and rushed to room 208 to change your clothes, leaving an astonished, mildly turned on Winchester behind. Getting in the bathroom, which didn't stink for once, you swiftly changed into the bikini. A jade green one, directly from Brazil’s brand Cia Maritma. If you squint your eyelids hard enough, you could still put a name to each face that was with you when you wore it for the first time in the calmer days. All the long gone friends and the daily sunbath in your caramel skin.

Decided to leave the past well enough alone, you just smiled in melancholy and turned around, facing your reflex in the mirror. You looked hot. Dean surely would agree about that, especially with the way the top brought up your breast.

Arriving in the room to your boyfriend ready for the swim, you couldn’t help checking him out. You were attracted to the way the righteous man’s body was built since the first glance, addicted since the first touch. His shoulder, the freckles on his nose, and the way he wasn’t all defined, yet had the muscles right in the certain spots. You took off your hairpin, hair falling on your shoulder into a brown sea, like the waves crashing against the ocean rocks. The smell of your sweat and orange monopolizing the edges of everywhere, mainly Dean’s senses. He relished on how soft your skin was compared to his, how your accent tingled his insides, and the way you swing your hips while walking. Your boobs almost jumping at his face because of the tiny bikini only aroused him more.

The place had to get some credit. For a dive motel, it was more than they’d picture. Manageable bathrooms and safe locks, the pool glimmering blue with a small tree by the right side. It was gorgeous.

A dazzling breeze whispered through your bodies, causing you to shiver slightly and Dean to get sweet smelling sheets clinging to his knees and feet. Fucking tree. You could taste the friction swallowing the atmosphere, a report of what was near.

Before you could say anything, Dean grumbled as he pokes a leaf away. ‘’It’s gonna rain.’’

‘’It will.’’ You agreed, holding his hand to pull him closer, well-aware that your body would scare away any linger of adorable grumpiness. ‘’But who cares about raining when you’re in a pool?’’

It's the kind of question that doesn't need an answer, it briefly exists to make Dean distracted in wonder just now, a pause between seconds as you jump in the pool first. The water splashing around with a brutal sound. Your body seems to recall an old memory, how you made a lark of anything with your siblings in the sea, how you used to feel like the beaches were a peculiar way of God to show the living how his touch would feel like. Every fiber of your body missed this.

Dean went in too, emerging to the marvelous sound of your laugh. He glanced at you, now less of a hunter and more of a man. The drops on your face could easily be confused with tears, yet the way you grinned and threw water at him couldn’t leave space for any other world but happiness. The Winchester often noticed your longing for cultural things that you no longer had in the palm of your hand. It was stupid, he even felt somehow resposible for taking you away of everything you ever knew only to coaxe you through the road not taken— full of bumps and blood and undecked halls. Then you’d smile, you’d wrap your arms around him like you were doing in that exact moment, and he would see that the drops all over your face are flickering with your chortle.

What other choice would Dean have, what other option could he ever make himself pick, if not to place his hands on your hips? So it goes. He put his rough hand on your, each tender touch seeming to make the bruises there clear up.

The hunter was leaning in to kiss you as a wave of water met his face.

‘’Ops!’’

He narrowed his eyes, spilling out the water. ‘’You are gonna pay for this.’’

‘’I’d like to see you try, Kansas boy.’’

Yeah, you once were raised in the water, such an important part of your identity which you didn't wish to lose, yet slowly slipped beyond your reaches. But you had Dean, you had adventure, and you had the motel’s shitty pool. If you could find contentment in that, you should know that who you were wasn’t lost. You were still the five years old who played in the plastic pool, the seventeen girl who grabbed your cellphone’s lantern and went looking for what was making a noise at 3am, the twenty years old who jumped in a car with two hunters and a craving for finding her true home. You were all of them at once.

Heaven sent the only true friend you could call yours and you’re under his lips. Dean’s crashing his mouth with yours, hungry like an animal after your playful war. You two are soaked, and so is your pussy. He pressed your against the border of the pool, your back to the wall of it. The water rushes in and you couldn’t care less. When did a bikini start to look like too much clothing?

Breaking the kiss, the Winchester glanced at you. The green of all the wild gardens localized in his orbs, dappled with stars and desire. Waiting for his touches, enjoying when he took his time with you was always worthwhile. Today, though, you needed him fast and dirty and raw.

There was nothing you'd rather than spread your legs, so you did it. Dean’s smart fingers quickly ripping your panties and brushing against your heat. He let out an annoyed huff, missing the satisfaction of your wetness around his digitals, how he knew you were a mess for him and him only. The pool’s water didn’t let it much evident, he’d have to fuck you even harder, make sure you were still needy for his cock.

You whined, clinging to his touch with a swing of hips. His hand covering your pussy as Dean applied some pressure, savoring the way your body winced and your eyes shut close, a beautiful moan leaving your lips. He couldn’t wait to eat you out later after he made you come in this stupid pool. Hedonism made his blood thicker-- like he was a calm sea before you, and now his waters were violent and hungry for destruction.

He pulled his hand away. ‘’Dean…’’

‘’Don’t worry, sweetheart.’’ His throbbing cock entered you, voice even deeper as he spoke. ‘’Gonna give you what you want.’’

You placed your legs around his waist and he held your thighs underwater, the sky spilling out its own water above. It didn’t stop two. Your hand on his shoulders, nails sinking in seemed to be a combustible for Dean to go harder inside of your. His hips attacking yours as his mouth kissed your neck with bites.

‘’Dean, please.’’ You pleaded, warm walls squeezing his long dick. ‘’More.’’

‘’All my cock is for you, honey. You get all of it, fucking you, scratching you open.’’ The eldest Winchester said, his voice so low and sensual. You could come only from his talking. ‘’That’s what you want, huh? You want me to fuck that pretty cunt, mark you up inside this shitty pool.’’ His digital reached your clint and you growled. Dean kept his dick inside you, unable to pull away from the heavenly sensation of being inside you. ‘’Wanna know something? I can’t wait to come inside that tight pussy right here.’’

He increased the rhythm, pounding you even faster and rougher as you tried to keep up, the lack of synchrony causing his cock to reach and pull inimaginable pleasures inside you, all turning more brutal and necessary. The pool had its own waves, your and Dean’s movements causing a chaos ocean chaos in it.

The heat and the sickliest, you were drowning in pleasure with each thrust to a desperate beat that his heart echoed. All your pretty noises tangled with his breathless howls. The rain’s drops becoming one water with the pool as you and him became one with your intertwined bodies, only to grow apart again and come back in need for more.

Your and your lover’s figures distorted on the reflex of the pool water, washing away any piece left of purity as you moved in a hurry when you finally reached your orgasm. Your cunt tightening around his hardness was too much to bear, making Dean come after you.

He rested his forehead against yours, breathless faces with closed eyelids darting together. The heat calmed down by the water. Dean dared to look at you, but not to pull away. His cock remained inside your tight cunt and he caressed your cheek gently. That woman pounded from within and is pinning him down to earth, like you are his own gravity, the glimpse of relief, the lover’s photographe that gives the soldier’s battle a meaning.

‘’There’s a saying in my country.’’ You said suddenly, opening your brown eyes as he lifted his head to greet yours with his forest ones.

Dean captured your small nose, your desirable lips, your big eyes, your gorgeous tan skin, the signals he had map of on his lips. His thumb still stroked your face as his cock took its time to weaken inside your pussy. ‘’Yeah? What’s it?’’

‘’Quem está na chuva é pra se molhar.’’ He arched his eyebrows, a silent request for an english version. The Winchester knew around ten words in your mothertongue. Half pet names, half cussing. You pecked his plump lips. ‘’There's no literal translation, some things just lose their core if you try to put them to another language. It would be like if you are in the rain you want to get wet. It would be another way to say if you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.’’

‘’I gotta say, you look pretty hot when you say those things.’’ You smirked. You rolled your eyes playfully, fingernails tenderly fondling the back of Dean’s neck under his haircut. ‘’Do you miss it?’’

‘’My country?’’

‘’Yeah. Not just your country but your language, your friends, your life there.’’ He shrugged, secretly scared of the answer. ‘’It’s not like we go to the same places you used to go to. I see how many bikinis you carry around.’’

Which was the main reason he booked that motel. You didn’t need to know that. The childish joy you had with the surprise was enough for his credit.

‘’No. Well, I still speak my language when I’m mad at you.’’ Dean chuckled. Whenever you two got in a heated argument, your inner latina would come out and jump at him in both languages at once. It was supposed to be serious, but mostly got him all hot and bothered. Your accent was just too sexy, especially when you were angry. ‘’But no, not really. I miss situations and people, but not how it was. It was a good life, but it wasn’t the one I was supposed to have.’’ You pulled him to you by his neck. ‘’I thank you, you know? For bringing me here. For showing me home, Even for the tears and the fear. I finally I’ve found where I belong.’’

Tranquility engulfed the atmosphere momentarily as comfortable as a silent sleeper, the rain no longer coming, giving stage to a sunny sky. You and Dean, twisted together like that was all serenity you could relish on. You both quiet in the afterglow, his cock no longer hard but neither wanted to pull away. He laid his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. He certainly would bring you to a beach as soon as he could, maybe pop the pretty question on his knees there. For now, thought, he could enjoy thar simple moment.

‘’After my house was burned to the ground, I didn’t think I’d have another one. I was always rolling around the country, never really stayed in a place for too long. I didn’t want to call some random walls my home and have it destroyed in my face again.’’ Dean said, his thumbs caressing your thighs underwater. Since his first breath near you, he knew he was a goner. Even better, he knew he wasn’t a goner, a nomad, or a lonely wolf anymore. Dean Winchester once swore he would never come back home after what happened in there, and then you appeared. The hot latina who kept up with his stupidity and didn’t think twice before calling him out on his bullshit, and was always there for him and actually loved him-- not besides the job, but with all the things being a hunter included, all the ugly acts he had to go through. You believed he was good and worthy. His house burned, but you gave him a home. For the first time in so long, Dean felt warm and happy and loved. ‘’But you gave me a home. Without the apple pie life and all that. You, me, and Sammy-- fighting the good fight, just the three of us. This is my home.’’

To be a hunter was to be gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid, always carrying the heaviest cross ever made like a soldier’s duty that wouldn’t end with a couple years of trocious war. This treacherous slope was forevermore. A hunter life, all the fraunds and the paid phone calls and the running away with laughs empty of joy, the song from the wrong side of town. But fuck, all the saving and the excitment and the hustled love made a dance for the melody and suddenly it was worth it. All the tender parts, the new restaurants every week, the jokes in the car, the hidden chortles in the dark places. Sam. Dean. Dean and all this am out of love and loyalty he gave to you.

Everything was worth it to be in his arms.

He brought you back home.

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tbzhours · 3 years

Text

home

sunwoo x you, soulmate au, fluff, implied smut

[summary] feeling lost in a city, sunwoo never thought he could ever be so found (or soulmate au where you both live far from each other and finally meet) [words] 2.5k [a/n] i’ve been wanting to write something like this; enjoy ♡

Sunwoo loved the idea of visiting Eric’s hometown as a vacation because it was by the beach. Not that he had ever been there which was more than a thousand miles away from home but he loved the smell of the ocean because he felt that somehow it was related to finding his soulmate. That thought was always in the back of his mind, other than in his google searches. He felt that he was the type of guy who gets sentimental at the beautiful sight of the sunset over the moving water in the evening… Even if he’s in his leather jacket.

He was walking by the empty park and ride, remembering how Eric and his friends had to leave early because there was a concert they wanted to go to for the night. Sunwoo decided to stay by the beach and assured them that he would take the last bus back to the parking location where they’d pick him up.

The sun was setting already at his side and he took a look at it, swooned by the orange colors marked on the sky and the surface of the ocean. His hands were in the pockets of his jacket and he smiled softly.

Seconds later as his steps slowed, he saw you leaning forward on the vinyl fence that lined up on the sidewalk. You were facing the sunset as he could only see the side of your sunkissed face. He finished his walk and stood next to you, his heart racing to meet yours.

"Isn't it lovely?" Sunwoo asked almost cockily when he leaned forward like you. He turned to your gaze, his thick lips smiling still. You were wondering who this funny guy was because he made you smile back. All you heard was the ocean waves before he continued, "I'm talking about you."

You laughed away into the shiny sands in front of you. You slipped your fingers away from your connected hands and folded your arms over the fence. You tilted your head at him and asked, "I was so sure you were talking about the sunset."

"Yes, yes I was too." Sunwoo nodded his head awkwardly, chuckling after.

He scratched his head and turned back to you when you asked, "I don’t think you’re from here?"

“What makes you think so?” His smile was blooming against the sunglow and you couldn’t help to notice how his eyes sparkled, as if they were meant to shine for you. Your eyes glanced down at his crazy jacket and he laughed again. He knew exactly what you were thinking.

You didn’t realize a flower tattoo glowing on your ankle like the lilac skies on the opposite side of the sun. Sunwoo had the same flower behind his neck and it was shining like the orange side. You noticed.

As you both watched people come and go from the park and ride, Sunwoo suggested to take a walk by the water before you both head back because, you know, it’s all about making the last of it. You rolled your eyes and shook your head with a grin before you followed him from his pressuring hand wave, getting sand in your shoes.

From this little adventure, you both casually exchanged names. You quickly learned that he didn’t go to college after graduating from high school while you dropped out of college. It’s been at least two years now and you still felt like you were lost. Sunwoo understood that but he’s been trying to let it go because he thought restricting his interests wasn’t going to make him happier. You felt a connection there because maybe it was time for you to do what you thought was right for you, like taking the courage to hold his hand and run along the ocean waves.

Sunwoo seemed like the opposite of what you’d think he’d do. Instead of staying at his so-called high school friend, Eric’s house, he actually booked a place for the little vacation. It was for Eric’s short break before the semester starts again in two weeks. Sunwoo seemed to be such a sweet talker too and your heart kept fluttering when he followed up your words with something witty and smooth. Plus, you wondered why he had a leather jacket on because everyone wears summer clothes at the beach. You got the answer when he set it over your shoulders when the nightly breeze picked up.

You both had crazy ideas about wanting to watch the sunset turn into a sunrise, getting no sleep for a late night exploration and looking for weirdly-shaped seashells under the starry skies. He had crossed your mind that he’s definitely your soulmate, so those were just dreams.

You both went for some ice cream afterwards, making sure to not miss the last bus back to the park. The ice cream stand was in the park and ride while other people were waiting. You both had a casual conversation about the place you work at and how you invited him to dine in with his friends before their trip was over.

“I’ll ask the guys and let you know.” Sunwoo was eating his cone with a hand in his pocket. He looked cold from how tall his shoulders were but he smiled then he asked out of curiosity. “I forgot to ask, where exactly do you live?”

You chuckled into a grin and answered him. “Why? Are you going to sleep over or something?”

“If you don’t mind.” He turned to you nonchalantly with the cream wetting his lips, then he smiled, “I’m just kidding. Can I walk you home?”

“Sure. That would be nice.” You smiled into his sparkling eyes for a long while. “And if we meet again, we can do that thing.”

You paused, watching how his smile grew bigger because he knew what you were thinking of.

“‘Watching the sunset turn into a sunrise’ thing.”

You being Sunwoo’s soulmate had crossed his mind since then. He couldn’t sleep at all that night and it went on for days. Eric found him dazed and asked why he was always in his head when he finally noticed Eric staring. It was more like holding back a laugh but Sunwoo just brushed it off and tried to get back into the board game they were playing at Eric’s parent’s house.

“Something must have happened that night.” Eric smirked, eyeing Hyunjae and Juyeon, who came along this trip.

Hyunjae tried to laugh but he opened his mouth and glanced at Sunwoo then back at Eric. “Must be.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s just keep going with this game.” Sunwoo avoided their stares, though he smiled. Juyeon nodded at the side, still focused on the game.

It was quiet for a moment before Juyeon looked at Sunwoo, who was sitting next to him. Sunwoo looked back at him and Juyeon questioned, “Wait, something really did, huh?”

Sunwoo blushed. He felt pressured to tell them but of course, when he came back without his jacket, it was obvious, and he would have to tell all about it.

As for you, you forgot to give Sunwoo’s jacket back after he walked you home from the bus ride and you were eagaring to meet him again. It was left on the couch for days and you kept wondering if you should head out with it every time you see it. Finally for one of the days when you were working in the restaurant by your house, you decided to wear it.

You slipped your hands into his pockets to warm them up but a seashell fit into your palm instead. How cute.

You set the seashell beside your bed and headed out for work.

After working that night, you walked out of the restaurant with your hands in your pockets. The sunset in the distance painted your face as it reminded you of Sunwoo. You knew you had to go to the beach nearby again.

You got off the bus once you arrived at the beach. There were still some people around as you walked through the sidewalk where you first met Sunwoo. You turned to the ocean and you didn’t know why he was the first person you noticed playing in the sand with a soccer ball.

You walked up to him, hiding your hands behind your back as your feet sank into the sand at each step. Your tattoo was shining as he turned to you. Before you could call for him, he caught you first with his finger up at you. He was staring at your jacket then he looked into your sun-glowed eyes.

“You play soccer?”

“No?” You slightly tilted your head with a tight smile.

“Good. Let me teach you.” He’s been holding onto the soccer ball when he smiled at you.

You laughed at the sudden offer and joined him because it was unavoidable.

The evening quickly turned into night, playing soccer and running around in the sand. Your laughs filled the air from your chases and it felt unreal to hear the ocean waves at your side because it was too perfect of a night that you didn’t want it to end.

“So,” You started awkwardly as you both were walking side-by-side beside the waves. “Do you always wear leather jackets?”

“Why? Is it not fashionable anymore?” He chuckled, keeping his hands in his pockets. He brushed off some sand off his shirt before he turned to you.

“It is. I just realized that.” You grinned at your walking feet.

“Okay. My turn to ask you.” Sunwoo smiled, taking the opportunity. “Do you believe in soulmates? Because I do, and I think I found mine here.”

“You don’t think I believe in them?” You chuckled, glancing at him after.

“I think everyone believes in them.” Sunwoo nodded then his voice got quieter and slow. “I’m just wondering if you could see mine because I can see yours.”

“Where is it?” Your eyes widened. You thought about how hard it was to live without knowing how your tattoo looks like until you meet your soulmate. It was no wonder that you felt a strong connection through Sunwoo that kept you close to him. You never want that feeling to leave when he stopped walking.

“I’m not telling you.” He had a cheeky frown as you stopped and turned around to him.

“Well then, I’m not telling you too.”

“Okay.” He nodded. His smile irritated you out before you started to chase after him.

It didn’t last long because he caught you in his arms and stole your eyes from your racing hearts. The waves wet your feet as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

Warmth steamed against your chest as a sizzle tangled in your stomachs. His gaze seemed to be asking for more when you didn’t hesitate to ask. “I know you can see them here but do you want to go watch the stars where it’s just us?”

“You know a place?” His eyebrow lifted with your cheeky smirk.

“My place.”

You left Sunwoo’s jacket on the same spot on your couch while he was on your balcony, gazing at the stars first. It’s crazy to him how the place he booked was only a few blocks from your place because the night you walked you home, he actually had lost his way.

You walked up behind him with two cups of warm drinks for the cool breeze at night when he heard your steps. He smiled and took a cup from you before you joined him, leaning onto the edge of the balcony.

“It’s really the best place to see the stars.” He complimented. He smiled into his drink and took a sip.

You hummed and turned to him. “I told you.”

He chuckled and tilted his head to the side and back. “Yeah, and you still haven’t told me where my tattoo is or how it looks like.”

“I can assure you it’s nothing crazy.” You set your cup down to the side and crossed your arms over the rail with a smile.

“Sure, okay.” Sunwoo turned away and took another sip but he quickly looked back at you with a pleading look. He hadn’t noticed how you couldn’t stop staring at him, as if you were only up in your head and not hearing a word he was saying. He had a pout on his face when he asked, “Tell me, please?”

“Only if you kiss me.”

His eyes widened but it slowly softened. You knew he could read your heart when he cupped his hand behind your neck and connected your lips. His other hand set his cup away so he could pull you to him, closing the gap between your chests. He pressed you against the rail and danced his lips with yours, slow and delicate.

Soon, you both were on your bed. He was below you and he kissed your inner ankle to tell you, that was where your floral tattoo was. He left a trail of kisses up your legs, to your stomach and chest, and behind your neck. You wrapped an arm over his shoulder and your other hand rested at the nape of his neck where your fingers hovered his floral tattoo. It was glowing as you reached your lips there, pressing a touch of love.

From this moment with you, he knew he wanted to stay.

It was already 2AM. Sunwoo was cuddling you after noticing the seashell on your end table beside the bed, asking why you had if you stole it from him. A chuckle followed. He wanted to give that to you in the first place but didn’t because he got nervous whenever he looked into your sunset eyes.

"I'm staying here." Sunwoo said after a long silence from the last conversation.

"You have a place to stay?" You asked, trying to fall asleep but your heart was still racing with him here.

He nodded, "I talked to Eric's mom. She's okay with it as long as I have a reason to be here."

“You can stay with me if you’d like.” Your voice sounded drowsy. You were ready to be knocked out.

“You’re okay with that?” He was shocked and surprised because he wouldn’t mind that.

“As long as we plan things around here together.” You looked up at him with your tired eyes. With a smile, you pressed a kiss on his lips, then you rested back onto his chest.

“Hey.” Sunwoo whispered in almost a tease. You hummed and he smiled softly. “Love you.”

You smiled, hearing his heartbeat against your cheek. “Love you too.”

#i added soulmate tattoos too; enjoy~#the boyz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbznetwork #deobiwritersnet #sunwoo #tbz #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #soulmate au #fluff

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 4 years

Text

Footprints in the Sand

Part Twelve: Hunger

Summary/Author's Note: We are in Dorne people! You wake up in bed with your lovers for the first morning of what you hope will be the rest of your days. Oberyn tells you about his family and the two of you share some quality morning time.

I need a fucking spreadsheet for Oberyn’s Daughters. I have a google doc and at this time in the Footprints era he only has 6 (there are two left to be born). Trust me, the age calculations were...time consuming.

(gif credit to @pajamasecrets, yes this is my header. It's perfect.)

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Lannister!Reader Word Count: 4.6k Warnings/Rating (NC-17/18+) - language, cockwarming, Oberyn uses ridiculous blades for the AESTHETIC, threesome, oral fem!receiving x2, penetration, lady on top, face sitting, mild breath play if you squint... (ALL OF THIS WILL BE HAPPENING IN PART 13, I HAD TO CUT IT.)

[Part Eleven] [Masterlist]

The sounds of birds quietly singing outside the open window in the branches of the citrus trees drew you slowly out of slumber. If you strained your ears you could hear the distinct sounds of the ocean crashing against the sands as the city started to rise and begin it's day. With tired limbs, shaky and weak like a newborn foal, you slowly sat up and pushed your wild hair out of your face. Even laden with fatigue, you had never felt more rested.

Ellaria slept quietly beside you, naked and draped in one of the many silk sheets that adorned the massive bed that the three of you now shared. Her ebony curls fanned over the pillows and her copper skin looked so soft in the morning glow of the sunbeams filtering through the gently swaying curtains. It was clear to you then that you would never get used to how truly beautiful she was, nor the idea that you were to wake beside her every morning. Was such a gift your new reality?

Looking to your left, you noticed the third member of your triad was missing.

"Oberyn?" You asked quietly to an empty room.

Ellaria turned over and pulled the sheet with her to help nestle herself down into the pillows and it made you smile. You could look for Oberyn alone--after spending the majority of the trip home sick she needed as much rest as she could get. Home. The idea of referring to such a place, and the ease at which the thought came to your mind made you feel light and giddy.

You grabbed one of Ellaria's oversized silk dressing robes off of the edge of the overflowing trunks and draped it over your shoulders. It didn't tie in the front and confirmed that it was more for decoration than for actual concealing of your nakedness. But it was soft, the royal blue slipping across your skin in a way that made you feel devine--the two of them had a knack for collecting devine and beautiful things.

The quiet trickle of water drew you to the room off to the side of the master bedroom. Before the three of you had tumbled into bed and well, into one another, Ellaria had given you a tour. The washroom was off to the side with a large marble pool for bathing, an ornate sun-shaped looking glass on the wall, and shelves full of scented oils and healing balms. Such luxury was something you had never seen, not even in the red keep, where money was thrown at armies instead of at the city's infrastructure.

Just as you had deducted, Oberyn sat in an armless, straight backed chair that he had pulled closer to one of the mirrors. A bowl of water sat on the table closest to him, and you leaned against the doorway and watched as he shaved. Despite the sunlight coming in from the window above the pool, a few candelabras flickered closer to where he was working to give him more light. There was yet to be a lighting in which his tanned skin didn't look utterly breathtaking to you and as you watched him drag his blade slowly up his throat and wipe away a bit of the soap on his neck, you had to remind yourself to in fact take a breath.

Your hand dipped down the valley of your breasts as you were suddenly filled with the desire to touch him. And yet, you didn't want him to stray from his task. You wanted to observe the way he moved, the way the muscles of his back shamelessly made your mouth water. The obvious solution for now was to touch yourself. Your fingers had barely ghosted the apex of your thighs when he spoke.

"What are you doing, lover?" His voice came as he looked at you in the mirror over his shoulder.

You took your hand away from your body and walked towards him, the silk of the robe blowing behind you gracefully while you walked. "Nothing.."

"Don't lie to your prince," he said, still holding a smile as he balanced the blade across the top of the bowl. "It looked like you were about to enjoy yourself to the image of me--come here." He grabbed your wrists and pulled you against him. He looked you up and down slowly, his dark eyes drinking you in as he reached up and pushed the robe from your shoulders to pool in the floor at your feet. "Aren't you a vision?"

"You flatter me."

"I simply observe."

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he transferred his grip from your wrist to your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips.

“Best sleep I’ve had in years.”

“Good.”

You touched the smooth skin of his throat with the tip of your finger. The soap he had lathered onto his skin smelled of honeysuckle and rosemary. You desperately wanted to kiss along his jaw but he had only finished about half of his shaving, sculpting the sharp beard that ran along his pointed features perfectly. "May I?"

"May you what?" He looked up as he helped you slide into his lap.

"Teach me," you said, quietly as you straddled his thighs and nodded to the blade and then gestured to his jaw.

"Hmm," he made a thoughtful noise as his hands slid up your sides and cupped your breasts. His thumbs played over your nipples, drawing goosebumps to the surface of your skin. "I don't allow many people to have a blade that close to my throat."

"I overstep--"

He pinched your right nipple gently and stopped your words before you could apologize. "You never overstep in my presence. Whose bed are you in?" He took your hand and guided it between your bodies as he started to grow hard against your thigh.

"Yours," You gasp as he wraps your fingers around his thick shaft, growing larger by the moment.

"And who am I?"

"A prince of Dorne."

"Exactly."

He put his hand behind your head and gripped your hair, pulling you forward enough to kiss you hard. You stroked him gently as you felt your own core start to respond to him. A small whimper fell from your mouth as you felt his fingers part your folds. You were sore from the night before but not enough to push away his affections. His name fell from your lips and his large hands cupped your ass and lifted you slightly.

"I'll teach you," he mumbled against your lips. "On the condition that you sit that beautiful cunt on top of my cock while you do."

You nodded as he gripped your ass and spread you slightly, making it easier for you to raise up on your knees. Using his shoulders for balance, you let him slowly impale you. He made room for himself in a way that made you clench against the intrusion. He encouraged you to relax as he nosed your neck and up to your cheek.

"How are you fairing from last night?" He asked, a soft grunt coming from his throat as you get settled.

"Sore, but I'll get used to it," you play your fingers in the back of his hair and watch his face. "I--um," you swallow hard and fight to keep your blush down. "I dreamed about what we did."

"About which part, my dear?"

"About," you lowered your voice and said quietly. "About tasting Ellaria."

"Hmm, I dare say you enjoyed that almost as much as she did." He chuckled and put his knuckle under your chin before you could look away. “No shame in that--who wouldn’t want to taste something that sweet?”

He trailed his fingers along the curve of your jaw and down over one of the mouth-shaped bruises on your neck. He had already apologized for them and you wouldn’t hear it again. You had enjoyed the making of them just as much as he had. When you bit your lip his cock twitched inside of you and you readjusted on his lap with a soft groan.

“Easy,” he chided you softly. “I can’t fuck you until I finish shaving.” His grin was as mischievous as his desire to keep you waiting. It excited you, made you long for unspoken promises you knew he intended to keep. “Grab the blade--I’ll teach you.”

You looked to the table on your right and picked up the dagger off of the bowl. It was a solid weight in your hand, not too heavy, but not at all flexible or flimsy. Unlike his other blades that you had seen on his belts and belongings, the handle was not adorned with a snake or sun or any kind of writing. In fact, it was pretty plain. Its charred black handle was crafted from the horn of an animal of some kind and wrapped in a leather strap for grip--despite the lack-luster appearance, it was clear that the blade was incredibly sharp.

“Should you use this on your face?” You raised an eyebrow and balanced it gingerly in your hand.

“What else would I use?” he chuckled as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Now, firm grip. You’re going to need one hand on the blade and one hand on my neck.”

“Oberyn--” you said, suddenly feeling less sure of yourself.

“You can do it,” he encouraged. “I happen to like the view better like this.” He smirked, looking at your breasts. He started to lean forward to put his mouth on them and you pressed him back against the chair, firmly.

“Stay still,” you teased and he nodded.

“As you command, my love,” he leaned his head to the side. “Use your free hand to press gently and pull down on my skin. It will make it taught, and then you can shave down with the grain. Short, smooth strokes.”

You bit your lip in concentration as you did just as he said. Weeks of being in his bed and your heart still hammered when you were this close to him. Here sat one of the most deadly men you had ever known and his calloused but gentle hands cupped your ass as you held a rather large blade to his throat. The intimacy and trust of the situation was not lost on you.

The blade gave a little resistance as you started to drag it gently through the soap against his neck. The suds parted revealing his skin in the most entrancing way and you carved a path down from his jaw to where his previous lines ended.

“Was Doran upset with you? Yesterday, that is,” you asked quietly once you finished your line and moved to dip the knife in the bowl of water and wipe it on the cloth.

“Yes, of course,” Oberyn, took the chance to smile as you paused in your process. “But it wasn’t the first time, and I promise you it won’t be the last.”

Your stomach turned at his words and you looked at him in earnest. “I don’t want to go back--”

“I won’t let that happen.”

His tone was sharp enough to make you flinch but his hands moved up your back as if to soothe the sting from his words. Although you didn’t know how he planned on keeping it from happening, you wanted to believe him. You had to.

The two of you sat in silence as you carefully moved the blade down his throat, taking any hair with the soap before rinsing, drying, and starting a new line. You went much slower than was probably needed, but if you drew blood on him, you would have never forgiven yourself--although Oberyn would have probably found it amusing. He took the cloth and held it for you gently, his eyes softening as he gazed upon you. The trickle of the water in the bowl sounded far too loud in all of the quiet, so you cleared your throat.

"Tell me about your family, other than Doran--your children, perhaps?"

"You wish to know about my daughters?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and when you nodded he continued. "I have six."

"Six??" You asked, unable to keep the shock from your voice.

"Yes," he said simply. His voice continued to hold a good-natured tone, despite the fact that yours teetered on audacity.

"I'm sorry, that's just so many for--"

"An unmarried man?" He moved his hand up your side and rubbed his thumb along the side of your breast slowly. "It's much different down here in the southern part of the world, my love. As I've said of our Ellaria--bastards are born of passion, of love, and we do not despise them. Should the need arise, any one of my girls would be accepted as a princess of Dorne and would be allowed to sit on the throne."

"I didn't mean any offense--"

"And you have given me none. I just wish you to unlearn the ways of such small minded people. I know it will take time, but you live here now. Your home is in Dorne, so are your people." He reached up and brushed your hair back from your neck.

"I'll try." You sat up a little, adjusting yourself around his length as you resumed the task of shaving his face. The way he spoke to you didn't make you feel foolish or small, much like his voice when you asked about the blade, he wanted nothing more than to teach you.

"That's all I ask." He put his hands back on your hips and leaned his head back against the chair, exposing his throat to you again. "Let's see, my oldest, Obara, is eighteen. Her mother was a whore from oldtown. She is an excellent fighter."

"Like her father."

"Yes," he smiled sadly. "Unfortunately the gods also gave her my anger. But I don't blame her, considering her mother's love was also full of betrayal."

"Where is her mother?" You asked without thinking and before you could apologize, Oberyn answered.

"Dead."

You kept quiet and let him continue. The blade of the dagger whispered through the soap once again and you meticulously inspected his skin for stray hairs. Hundreds of questions came to the tip of your tongue and although you were certain he would answer them all, it was enough to listen to him tell his stories the way he wanted to.

"Sarella," he paused as he said the name quietly. "Well, I guess she'd be almost nine. Also born in Old Town. Her mother is captain of a trading ship. She writes to me. Told me of her birth--perhaps one day I'll get to meet her."

"Is that something you want?"

"Of course. But only if Sarella wishes it as well."

“I can't imagine a girl not wanting to meet her father if it means she would be a princess." You smiled and worked on the last section of his neck, priding yourself on the fact that you had managed not to accidentally draw blood on him.

"Her happiness is more important than her title. And if she is happy at sea with her mother, then so am I."

“Not a lot of fathers think that way.” You nodded and pressed gently on his skin. "Almost done."

"Take your time," he reassured with a relaxed sigh before continuing. "Nymeria just had her fifteenth name day, and she was born of a Noble woman in Volantis," Oberyn said factually as he trailed his finger up your spine slowly. "She looks like her mother. Acts like her, too." He chuckled. "Tyene, now her mother was a Septa."

You paused and leaned back, unable to mask the obvious shock on your face. "A Septa?"

"Scandalous, isn't it?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"Am I to believe that you charmed a woman from her own faith and into your bed?"

"You can believe what you want but the proof of our endeavor is thirteen years of age and currently living at the Water Gardens of the Martells." He laughed as you placed the blade back in the bowl and used the cloth to wipe the excess soap from his jaw. "She is the only one with blonde hair and pale skin--and you know that didn't come from me."

"You speak of them fondly. Not just your daughters, but...their mothers."

"I do."

"Did you love them?"

"I did. Once upon a time."

"You are…" you paused, shaking your head and moved to put the towel on the table.

"What?"

"Nothing." Your voice was sharper than you wanted it to be and looked away from him.

"I'm what?" he challenged. "I love each one of my daughters, just as I loved their mothers. That love may have burned out quickly, may have been nothing more than passionate infatuation but it doesn't make it less real. My heart has travelled a great distance before finding its permanent home with Ellaria...and you."

“Permanent?”

“Have you ever known me to be untruthful?” he asked and you shook your head ‘no’.

Did his list of lovers intimidate you? Did knowing he held genuine emotion for them make it any easier to swallow? Jealousy was a horrible thing and yet it burned in your heart for no reason at all. These women were long gone, lost to the past of his many lived lifetimes, and here you sat, perched on his cock no less, trying not to feel jealous. It was a childish way of thinking, a foolish way, and you were neither a child or a fool. He must have seen the anguish of your thoughts on your face because his hand reached up and grabbed your jaw roughly.

"Do you wish me to stop? Does my touch offend you, now?"

"No." You answered him stubbornly as his fingers dug into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

"Do you want me to tell you that you're far more lovely than any of them? That they all pale next to the beauty of my stolen lioness?" He raised his eyebrow again and when you tried to jerk your face from his grip, he held fast.

"Don't patronize me, Oberyn," you scowled as you put your hands on his chest and clenched around his cock. You suddenly wished he wasn't inside of you, distracting you, pulling you from the jealousy that your mind so desperately wanted to cling to. And yet, you wanted him deeper, closer, you wanted to claim him in a way that the flames of his past no longer could. All you had to do was say it.

"Then what would you have me do?" He asked as he pushed his hips up slightly, the feeling making your eyes flutter as you dug your nails into his flesh. "Say what you're feeling. What you want."

"I want," you took a steady breath before opening your eyes and looking at him with a level gaze. "I want to know that Ellaria and I are the only ones that possess your heart. That you don't look at me and see a foolish girl who has never left home, who doesn't have adventures to tell you about, or a long list of colorful lovers. I want to know that you won't grow bored of me."

“Ah,” he nodded. “I see.”

“You see? That’s it?”

Before you could pull away his hand slipped from your jaw to the back of your neck. He pulled you into him and kissed your lips with such a tenderness that made the animosity melt from your very skin. You desperately wanted to hold on to the small amount of anger you had, whatever upper hand it gave you was a lie, but it was better than continuing to feel naive in front of him.

“There’s that fire,” he whispered against your lips and you succumbed to him at last.

“What do you mean?”

“You insult yourself when there is nothing to insult. What an honor it is to help you write your own adventures." He moved his fingers to his lips and licked the tips of his first two. "And I say you've already had quite a first one--scaling down the Red Keep and running away with your two lovers is nothing to make light of."

"I guess you're right," you say quietly. You rock your hips forward once and he hisses, but still keeps his eyes locked on yours.

“You are not the wilting flower that the Lannisters have led you to believe your whole life. How does Ellaria feel about timid creatures?”

“Timid is boring.”

"And how wonderful will it be, to make it my life's work, to make you experience a love so exquisite, it will ruin all other partners you may have had in this life," he kept his tone even as he slipped his hand between your bodies and pressed his dampened fingers against your clit. "Or the next."

"Oberyn," you gasped quietly, raising up as he started to gently move his fingers back and forth. He had been inside of you the entire time and you were practically dripping because of it. Your own wetness soaked the inside of your thighs and dampened his lap as your velvety heat kept his cock tight and warm. You didn't know how much longer you could stand him not fucking you like he had the night before.

"And how are you feeling about my affections now?" He asked.

"Better," you whimpered.

"Better? Hmm, an improvement. I'll just have to keep reminding you until you're confident in them."

His free hand pressed into the small of your back to encourage you to move your hips. Obeying his silent command, you put your hands back on his chest and started to ride his lap. The stretch of him inside of you was still a tight fight due to the lack of movement for so long, and it was one of the most exquisite feelings in the world. Your head hung forward slightly, your hair falling over the front of your shoulder, and you made a soft sound as he pinched your clit. The way the head of him pressed against the sweet spot towards the end of you, made you ache for more. The feeling was intoxicating, addictive, and made you feel powerful in ways nothing else ever would.

“Oberyn--”

“Yes, my love?”

"I am more lovely than your…," you swallowed hard as you forced the squeak from your voice. "Your other lovers."

"What did you say?" Oberyn moved his hand from your slit and grabbed your hips roughly, his tone surprised but still the deep rumble it had been.

"I said," you looked at him through the curtain of your hair before pushing it back and repeating yourself. "I am more lovely than your other lovers. Ellaria and I are lovelier and you will never grow bored of our bed."

“A much better tone.” He smirked, a grin that slowly reached from ear to ear and held a pride that was almost palpable. "And what makes you say that?"

"You're here, aren't you?" You leaned your forehead against his and whispered against his lips. "And whose cunt are you inside of?"

He chuckled quietly and matched your tone. "Hmm, I suppose you're right."

You yelped as he surged forward and kissed you hard, his tongue parting your lips as if he wanted to taste the words you had just said. He fisted his hand in your hair and held your head still as he devoured your mouth and thrust his hips up against yours. Your hands found his neck and moved up to cup his jaw, holding him in place with only a fraction of the strength he held you with.

His neck and face were soft and fragrant from the soaps you had just used to shave him. His beard once again was its normal crisp line that framed the edge of his jaw. He looked every bit the Prince that he was and you wanted him in the same desperate way that you wanted him in King's Landing.

Would that ever go away? Would the burning desire to claim such a powerful entity as your own ever truly leave you? The way Oberyn and Ellaria spoke of each other, it didn't seem so. And now that love included you. A triad of adoration, of burning passion that would follow the three of you to your dying day--you were ready to be consumed by it. You wanted to be consumed, to be devoured, and in their arms it wasn't a terrifying thought.

"Fuck me."

Normally such words fell from your lips, but this time, it was Oberyn that said them.

He purred against your skin as his large hand came down on your ass with a smack spurring your hips into action. You wanted to own him in the way he did you, possess his soul in the way he possessed yours. So if he wanted you to fuck him, you would happily oblige.

"I want your mouth on my tits," you panted as you grabbed him by his dark hair and shoved his face down against your chest. He obeyed, bowing his head to mouth at your breasts. He bit, he sucked, he grabbed handfuls of your chest.

“Like that, sweet girl?” he said, his beard rubbing harshly against your soft skin in a way that made you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him closer.

You leaned your head over his as you continued to ride him relentlessly and he held your hips, pulling you down on his cock over and over. A trickle of warmth started low in your belly as the tip of him brushed the end of you and you held still to preserve the feeling for a moment extra. It was a desperate fuck that was unlike the night before. It was about staking his claim on your body, or perhaps you were staking yours on his.

“Oberyn,” you whined as you felt your body teetering on the edge of its release.

“My body is but a throne for you and Ellaria. To use as you see fit and to sit on as it pleases you,” he looked up at you, his neck straining from the angle and making his voice a breathy plea. “Such a gorgeous woman and you’re all mine.”

“As you are mine,” you leaned down to capture his lips as you breathed your words into his mouth. You gasped and pulled away from his kiss as your orgasm took you abruptly. Your nails pressed into the back of his scalp as you bared down on his lap, enveloping his entire length and holding it inside you in a greedy moment of pure ecstasy.

His arm tightened around you as he cupped your pussy and used his hand to help bring you through the pleasure. You felt the wetness of your release on his fingers and lap as he stood, clutching you to his chest and giving you a moment to clench your legs around him. With a firm kick, he knocked the chair back out of the way and laid you bare on the floor.

“Apologies, but if I don’t fill you up soon, I may go mad,” he braced his arms on the ground next to your head as he rammed himself up inside of you and you pulled his weight down on top of your body.

“We wouldn’t want that,” you moaned as you claimed his mouth just as he claimed you with his release and a groan of pure adoration.

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell x you #Game of Thrones #got #oberyn x ellaria #oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #oberyn x ellaria x reader #Pedro pascal #pedro character fic #Pedro Pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #footprints in the sand

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

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Yandere Charcter Encyclopedia

A list of some requested charcters and the types of yandere’s they would be. I might open requests for a part two later idk yet.

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

Twisted Wonderland

Vil Schoenheit is controlling and possessive.

You need to be the BEST!

It's more so this lovesick notion that Vil seems to be "in love with" rather than you as a person. No one knows exactly why Vil chose you as his dearly significant other and Vil has never given any inkling as to why he favors you above everybody else. It's a paradox, an unsolvable mystery. But the truth is Vil fell in love with you, not for your looks, nor your personality, heck you didn't even really do some outstanding gesture that pulled at his heartstrings, no, instead you did nothing. Confusing, I know but let me explain, you were a nobody. No breathtaking looks, no fantastic personality, no influential family. There was NOTHING special about you! This means you had the potential to be something special, something extraordinary and the only person in the universe who could raise you to such levels was nonother than the head of Pomfiore, Vil Schoenheit!

Every day he spends hours making sure you look perfect, a face painted in just the right ways to make others believe you had the features of an angel sent from above. Posture so straight, shoulders pulled back to make others think you were the long lost heiress to some fallen family. Never once did you speak out of place or with a tone harboring too many emotions, every word that left your mouth was so well thought out and prepared that others could only suspect you were some sort of genius.

You were nothing, that's what made Vil notice you in the first place, that's what made him mold you into the perfect someone. Whatever you are now is only thanks to your darling, caring lover...never forget that.

Rook Hunt is delusional.

Rook's brain is an incredibly messed up place and it only gets worst the longer he's around you. You are a little rabbit, nimble and sweet and he is the hunter that wants to stick a bow right through your beating heart, a lovely pair you two make, wouldn't you agree? But the more he stalks you, following you around like a second shadow. The more he realizes that he doesn't want you simply for the thrill of a small chase...oh no, he wants to keep you. Put you in a golden cage and throw away the key. You're not some rare catch like le roi des lions or a breathtaking sight like le roi des poisons. No instead you're simple, you aren't a game of nither wit nor strength, you are simply a game of love. Because you love him already don't you? You know he's been following you and doesn't do anything about it because you want him to catch you, right? You want the greatest hunter to hit you with his cupid's arrow so you can fall into his awaiting arms, right where you belong!

Azul is manipulative (were you guys seriously expecting something else?)

Azul is all calculations and deals, all wit and talk. He's got guts to go up against just about anyone he meets and he’s smart enough to turn them into a fish out of water. So maybe it was his confidence that let’s you slip away with lax deals, bending the rules for a helpless little angelfish such as yourself. He doesn't notice that he has feelings for you, not until you stroll into the VIP room of the Mostro Lounge looking for your "dearest friend Azul", all to simply ask him for a contract to make the lousy excuse of an Ignyhide dorm leader fall in love with you. It's then and there that Azul decides it's time to toughen up the rules, tighten the noose around your pretty little neck. You don't even notice until you're rejected by Idia and some strang red string is dragging you into Azul's waiting embrace.

Kalim is delusional and obsessive.

To Kalim, this is just another heart-filled game. You belong to him and he belongs to you, it's simple! The two of you are so in love...it's just you're a little shy when it comes to admitting it! That's okay, Kalim knows a few drinks from the land of hot sands that will loosen your tongue and if that fails there's always Jamil's hypnosis magic that can make you confess! Look, no matter how you go about it, Kalim is just all so convinced that you love him that it doesn't matter what you really think!

Ruggie is manipulative (Lord have mercy on you people the day I finally muster up the courage to write Savancalw yandere headcanons)

Oh sure, male hyenas are passive when it comes to females everyone knows that! But whilst Ruggie does follow -albeit loosely- the reserved yet desperate routines of hyena courtship, he leans more towards suffocating his chosen mate with his presence rather than showing a desperate side of himself. He's always circling his chosen darling, stalking them down the halls, trailing after them all over campus, he never leaves them alone. Any confrontations from his darling will lead to an immediate sob story. Something about how he could smell food in your bag and didn't have any money to buy his own meal or maybe about how he never met a girl as cute as you in slums so he had no idea how to approach you properly. Of course, this is all a hoax, he just needs you to drop your guard, to look him in the eyes with your sad, heart-throbbing orbs, then it's game over, you're all his. "Hey, what's with the dull face? come on, laugh with me skskksks~".

Jack is a protective.

It's only natural really, wolves are overprotective when it comes to their pack members and sure maybe you aren't really a part of his pack per se. But that doesn't mean he's just going to leave you to fend for yourself. You're all so small and frail, you could never hold your own against anyone! Let alone all the mages in NRC. But Jack can, he can protect you and defend himself, it's not a problem. He's very likely torn on whether or not to actually kidnap his darling. On one hand, he doesn't want you to hate him for stealing you away from your friends, he wouldn't want to play the role of the big bad wolf in your story. But on the other hand, poor Jack just isn't lucid enough to fully understand that whisking you away is wrong. In the end, you probably just wind up in his room locked away, or better yet, protected from all the horrors of the outside world.

Deuce is an obsessive

He just wants to be around you all the time. It's mostly some deep routed paranoia that at any fleeting moment you'll somehow abandon him finding refuge with either Cater or Ace. Maybe you find their lazy stupid mannerisms amusing, is that it? If you want lazy, he can be lazy too! Or maybe you want to be with Riddle? Do you like guys who are mean spirited and quick to anger? He can yell! He can yell so much better than Riddle can! Deuce will do anything, anything at all to get you to stay with him. Even if some of his tactics are a little more painful and involve some broken bones.

Hypnosis Mic

Jakurai is possessive and protective

He's overbearing to put it simply, constantly hovering around you, ghosting his fingers over your flesh, or leaving lingering kisses on any patch of exposed skin. First and foremost Jakurai is a doctor, so it's his nature to be nurturing, sure you can accept that much. But what he does to you isn't nurturing in any way shape or form! Juakurai isn't above using sedatives and other forms of medications to keep you compliant, that's not what a good doctor should do, you're both lucid enough to know that. But to Ill-Doc you leave him no other choice, you're constantly disobeying him, trying to find some underhanded way to leave him. So what else can the poor man do! He needs to keep his only escape from the tedious loneliness he's been cursed with, safe!

kamigami no asobi

Balder is possessive and obsessive

He can't help it, there's just something so radiant and sparkling inside of you, something that he can't let get tainted by the darkness that rests within others. You're always walking on thin ice around him, chewing every single word before conversing, calculating every single step before daring to make the slightest move. One wrong look or miscalculated word could get him to spiral into a fit madness, and this time there won't be anyone to save you. But that's only if you do the wrong thing! Just keep playing the role of the loving, adoring girlfriend and there won't be any further...complications. If you simply show him how much you love him, Balder can become all so sickly sweet. A perfect doting boyfriend, constantly sharing his precious meat with you and dressing you up in prettiest lavish gowns from Asgard.

Obey me

Asmodeus is sneaky

The avatar of lust is used to swift meaningless relationships, too caught up in the passion and pleasure to really care about the other person. But with his darling things are different. Oh sure, the lust and sexual tension is still there, always hovering around the air like a thick unbreakable fog. Accept this time there's something else, a sort of jealous aroma blowing through the dense mist. It's intoxicating, making Asmoudaus crave only his little darling, he only wants to look at them, touch them, kiss only them! It's almost like he's addicted to every itty bitty detail about his newfound lover. Will Asmodeus get bored of the relationship over time? Absolutely! But will he ever actually leave his darling to their own devices? Hell no! Asmodeus may have the right to cheat on his darling but they can NEVER so much as think about another man other than him! HE.OWNS.THEM! Their body, mind, soul, it all belongs to him!

Black Butler

Snake is Jealous (I haven't written for black butler since, like, sixth grade)

Snake does love you, this is an evident fact, he never once leaves your side. It's suffocating sure, but it's only because the scaled boy is so paranoid that you might run away with someone else, someone normal. His snakes (mostly Emily) are always chaining the two of you together, constantly curling around your skin so you won't get any ideas to escape. Lord forbid you so much as look at another man, that'll make the white-haired snake charmer go into a fit of pure utter rage. normally Snake won't punish you, but when his jealousy gets too much to keep inside he'll let it out by screaming at you. Asking you if you find him repulsive if you wish to leave him for someone who looks normal. This will than lead to him crushing you in his arms, begging you not to leave him! Overall Snake is one of the tamer yandere of the Phantomhive residence, a real blessing in disguise.

mystic messenger

Saeyoung is obsessive

It's really all just a small accident, this was never really meant to happen, he wasn't meant to fall in love with you. Saeyoung probably just came across your profile whilst on the web, scrolling through some database or another. like I said, IT.WAS.AN.ACCIDENT...and yet all so many times accidents can lead to something...more. Saeyoung doesn't know what particular thing it was about you that caught his attention, maybe it was your cute face or some little odd, out of place detail in your bio. Either way, it has the red-haired hacker surfing through every site just to learn more about you. Picking the internet apart just to find out some small fragments of your personal life. It's become a sort of hobby -addiction- of his, stalking your every move through trackers and reverse cameras. One day he might even gather the courage to speak to you in person, but for now, he's content watching your pretty face from behind a screen.

Code Realize

Impey is Obessasive and clingy

It's your smile, right from the get-go, Impey was enthralled by your cheerful smile. It makes his heart skip a beat, his palms grow sweaty, and his breath hitches in his throat. He just adores that pearly white grin. He's constantly pestering you, poking your cheek, and asking you to smile for him just once more. "Just a small smile, please~". His clinginess is mostly due to the fear of losing you or more so having you stolen from him. That's why he never let's go of your hand and is constantly locking you in his room. "I'm the only one that deserves to see that smile" it's such a childish phrase, primarily when it's accompanied by his renowned pout. Of course, things start to go downhill when you outright refuse to smile. Choosing instead to cry and scream, begging someone to save you from this mad man. Impey is borderline delusional if he thinks you'll ever smile for him again, after the stunt he's pulled.

577 notes · View notes

sevlgi · 4 years

Text

never been yours

requested: yes

group: red velvet

pairing: seulgi x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: college!au, best friend!seulgi, based on huh gak’s empty words mv.

warnings: none

synopsis: It’s so painful to be in love with Seulgi when you know she’ll never be yours.

a/n: this mv and and song were both so beautiful, I hope I did them justice! please request more drabbles based on mv’s, this one was so fun to write.

word count: 3.3k

You once thought love would be beautiful.

It is, but it’s not beautiful in the way that most think it is- soft smiles and touches, sweet words and tender glances. People think love is butterflies, the kind of fluttering in your stomach that makes you blush and makes your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Even you thought it would be like that once. You thought love would be the thing that made you smile when you cried, the best thing to ever happen to you.

And you’ve had plenty of those moments with Seulgi, in the very beginning of your feelings for her, back when it was just a simple crush. You’ve laughed together in art class, exchanged smiles that lingered too long to be just between friends.

She has been your light in the darkness, the person who never fails to make you smile. She’s the one you’re in love with, the one you wish could be yours.

But now that you’re in deep, painfully in love with someone who’ll never feel the same way about you, you know that love isn’t beautiful in that way at all.

Instead, love is being so so so close to someone but still feeling hundreds of miles away. It’s clutching on to memories of good times that might have been just a dream, and feeling empty when you’re by yourself.

It’s watching the love of your life slip just out of your grasp. It’s smiling painfully at your best friend who’ll never feel the same way about you, and it is the sound of crystal shattering on the concrete floor.

Love is something that has never been yours, just like her.

“Y/N, happy birthday!” Seulgi laughs, throwing her arms around your neck in a hug that’s more of a squeeze with how tight it is.

You can’t stop the grin tugging at your lips as you let your hands linger on her waist for a little too long, pulling back to admire the way her smile crinkles her eyes into crescent shapes. She’s so beautiful. “Thank you. You didn’t have to get a gift…”

“Of course I did,” your best friend scoffs as she takes a seat across from you. It’s too hard to find time for an actual birthday celebration when both of you are busy students in college, so you’re settling for a lunch together outside of campus. To you, anything’s perfect as long as it’s with Seulgi.

The murmur of chatter around you in the restaurant is mere white noise as you stare at the pretty blue box on the table between the two of you. “Come on, open it.”

You’re too gentle with it, fingers tugging too lightly at the white ribbon tied in a bow on the top that Seulgi just laughs and takes it from you to unwrap it herself.

Inside, resting on black velvet, are two bracelets, matching ones made of delicate silver with pink crystal shapes. “You like them? They’re for us,” Seulgi tells you, observing you.

“I…” They’re perfect, you want to say. Like you. “Of course, they’re so pretty.”

She smiles again, that adorable scrunch of her nose making you feel warm and sweet inside. “Thank god! It’s long overdue, we deserve something like this. You’re the best best friend anyone could wish for, you know?”

“Of course,” you laugh, but it sounds empty even to you. “You’re perfect too. The perfect best friend.” Not just best friend.

“We’re going to be best friends forever, you know,” Seulgi continues, motioning for you to hold out your hand. Chills run up your spine when her fingers brush against your skin as she rolls your sleeve up. “You and me. We’ll never be apart.”

You try to mirror the sweetness in her grin. “Yeah. Never.”

The words are bittersweet in your mouth, and the taste of jjajangmyeon can’t mask it. The two of you might never be apart, but Seulgi will also never be yours, not in the way you want her to be.

Does the silver of the bracelet feel like ice against her skin too?

You head to the student center on campus after lunch to play games, joining a few other of your friends. They give you their little presents and coo over the matching bracelets you wear.

Sooyoung and Yerim are sweet, but you’re transfixed on Seulgi, who always seems to shine the brightest to you. “Yah, Y/N, pay attention to the game!” your friend Sooyoung nudges you. She’s the one on your team, insisting that you and Seulgi have too much chemistry to be fair. “What’re you staring at?”

“Sorry,” you mumble, returning to the game of jenga on the table in front of you.

Yerim laughs lightly beside Seulgi, who smiles at you comfortingly, teasing, “Sooyoung-ah, don’t give her such a hard time. She’s helping me win!”

“Am not,” you manage to protest. “You’re not that important!”

Holding a hand to her heart, your best friend makes an offended face. “And here I thought I was your best friend. I’m hurt!”

Despite how ridiculously fake you know Seulgi’s expression is, you catch yourself wanting to apologize. Thankfully, you’re saved by everyone looking to the entrance, where two boys stand. One waves at your friend group, and Sooyoung waves back.

“Who’re they?” you ask, not liking the way the other one smiles at Seulgi.

Yerim waves them over. “The one who waved is Kyunggu, he’s in one of my classes. His friend, I don’t know, but the more the merrier, right?”

You don’t respond, the smile barely hanging on when Kyunggu’s friend introduces himself as Doyoung and ends up sitting next to Seulgi. He talks so easily with your best friend, conversation flowing as easily as when she talks to you.

It’s there again, the bitter taste of jealousy coating your tongue and forcing the smile off your face. You can’t muster up even the fakest smile, earning you a few concerned glances from your friends.

You have to remind yourself, Seulgi isn’t yours. She’s just a best friend, and Doyoung is just a new person she’s being friendly to.

It hurts to remind yourself over and over again.

“I don’t know, he’s just so sweet and cute!” Seulgi continues, mostly ignoring the food in front of her. Usually, you’d be happy to listen to her ramble, but not when she’s going on about Doyoung. “He’s a perfect gentleman.”

“I’m sure he is.” It feels like you’re forcing the words out. “Are you going to date him?”

Seulgi looks out the window with a dreamy expression on her face, chin resting on her palm. “Maybe, if he asks me out. Do you like anyone yet?”

I love you. “No.” You stab at the rice in your bowl with your chopsticks. I love you I love you I love you. “It doesn’t sound all that interesting to me. Love’s overrated.”

“L-love?” she sputters,, face growing redder. “Who said anything about love? I just like him, that’s all.”

You roll your eyes, avoiding meeting Seulgi’s eyes in case she can see the lie. “Sure.” Like a spell had been cast just by saying his name, Doyoung appears at the entrance to the cafeteria, and you hate the way your best friend lights up at the sight of him.

“Doyoung, over here!”

He smiles at the both of you, but you don’t miss the way it’s different when he smiles at Seulgi. “Hi. Can I sit?”

“Can you?” you mumble under your breath, but you plaster on a fake smile when he looks at you. “Of course. Want me to grab you a chair?”

“That’s really nice of you,” he grins back. There’s logically no reason to hate him; he’s perfectly nice and a great fit for your best friend. But it hurts, and you press your fingers to your sternum when you walk away to try and quell the feeling in your gut.

The two of them are already laughing together when you walk back with the chair, Doyoung looking perfectly natural in your chair. He offers to vacate it for you, but you tell him it’s okay when it’s not.

It’s not okay for you to be feeling like this, not when he’s nice and sweet and everything Seulgi looks for in boys. It’s not okay for you to be feeling like this about your best friend, but you can’t find it in you to walk away from her.

You’ll do anything not to lose her.

Seulgi brings you along to a hangout with Doyoung, Kyunggu, and some of their other friends a few days later. They end up deciding to play basketball, and Seulgi, being the bubbly and charismatic girl she is, plays with them while you sit on the sidelines.

You hate how adorable she is when she grins and claps happily after scoring, hate the butterflies in your stomach when she laughs and waves at you.

If this is love, you don’t want it. You don’t want to feel this way ever again, don’t want to feel the emptiness in your chest when Doyoung’s hands skim over Seulgi’s waist.

But you can’t find it in you to say no to her, even when she invites you to another hangout at Doyoung’s dorm the next week. It’s just playing video games together, and Doyoung is incredibly nice when he offers soda and snacks to both of you.

You manage to enjoy yourself when you’re playing, but you can only smile painfully when they put on music and dance together after the game’s over.

If only you could be in Doyoung’s position, the one dancing and laughing with her, you know you’d give Seulgi the world. But there’s no way she could ever feel the same way about you, so you can only hope that he gives her the world in your place.

Because that’s what she deserves, even if you won’t be the one to give it.

Seulgi slips away, piece by piece by piece, like sand trickling through your fingers.

You don’t mean to let her, even amidst the business of college. You mean to hold her as tight and close as you can, invite her for lunch whenever you can and go over to her dorm to just talk together, but all of a sudden, she’s always busy.

She can’t have lunch with you because she’s hanging out with Doyoung, or she can’t come over because she’s already at his dorm.

It hurts every time, like little glass shards being stabbed through your skin, but you always smile and wave her away.

You see her at the park one day, a lone figure sitting on a bench with golden leaves drifting down around her. Of course you lift your hand and open your mouth to shout for her attention, but she’s suddenly joined by a tall, short-haired figure.

She was never yours, but she feels so much farther away all of a sudden, and you hate it. You hate all of it, the urge to kiss her whenever you see her, the way you can’t stop smiling even at her dumbest jokes.

There’s no point to any of it, not when you’ve loved her for so long. It’s not something you just forget, and even though it hurts so much, you don’t think you want to forget, either.

Art class without Seulgi is no fun, and not just because you feel empty without her by your side. The room is so much quieter when there isn’t her laughter echoing off the walls, her silly jokes that always make you smile.

Doyoung’s in the class too, but he’s so much harder to ignore when Seulgi isn’t there to distract him. He tries to talk to you, but conversation is so stilted that he gives up.

Even your painting reminds you of her, the burgundy red you chose the same color as her sweater the day she promised to be your best friend forever. The brown is like her eyes, glittering golden under the light, and the pale pink looks like the crystal on the bracelet that you don’t have the heart to take off.

You stare at that painting for longer than you should have, and the sky is dark by the time you’re strolling in the hallways on your way back to your dorm.

It’s not rare to see couples on the benches at this time of day, but something makes you stop to stare at the two on the bench a few feet away from you.

Your heart seems to break cleanly into two when you realize who they are- Seulgi, delicate hands on Doyoung’s neck as he kisses her, eyes fluttering shut.

All feeling seems to escape from your legs, and you tumble to the concrete floor, back against the rough wall of the hallway. You’re numb to the slight pain in your knees, only feeling the sour feeling in your nose and the hot tears welling up.

You try to hold in your sobs so that they don’t hear you, staring at the ceiling in a futile attempt to push the tears back. Your fingers tremble as you unclasp the bracelet on your wrist, the metal clasp finally releasing with a click.

It feels like you’re treading on your own heart when you drop the piece of jewelry to the ground, a piece of crystal shattering immediately. But the thought of the same bracelet on Seulgi’s wrist as she kisses Doyoung makes you run, the image of shattered pink crystal on concrete burned into your eyes.

You cry for what seems like days when you get to your dorm. It probably is days; your roommate doesn’t question you when she sees the tears spilling over, just hands you a pillow for you to muffle your sobs into and closes your bedroom door once you disappear inside. She brings tea and food occasionally, but you can’t find it in you to eat.

The buzzes of your phone fill the silence, punctuated by the occasional sob, but you ignore them. You consider flinging it across the room when you see messages from Seulgi, but decide against it in favor of just crying your feelings out.

You don’t know why it hurts so much, why something that’s supposed to be the most joyous thing in the world is the most painful feeling to you. Every tear that slips out burns your skin, and every rattling sob only pains you, but the crying is therapeutic. Maybe.

But of course, fate is never in your favor; mere minutes after you manage to calm your tears, your roommate knocks to tell you Seulgi’s here.

You barely bother with makeup to cover the redness of your nose; you can’t disguise the swelling of your eyes anyway, and it doesn’t matter. Seulgi would never feel the same about you, not when she has a cute boy to kiss, so it doesn’t matter how you look.

When her eyes widen in shock and concern at the sight of you, you almost regret it, but you can barely muster up a smile for her as the two of you head out of the dorm in favor of strolling through the halls.

It’s silent at first, a kind of awkwardness hanging in the air between the two of you that you’ve never felt before with Seulgi. Finally, she breaks the silence by whispering, “Were… were you crying?”

“Yeah.” You’ve never been one to lie to her, not when it’s always so easy for her to see through you. “Don’t worry though.”

“How can I not?” There seems to be a sob building up in Seulgi’s throat, and you turn to her to confirm it. She’s staring at your wrist, bare of the bracelet you shattered nearly a week ago, and there are tears glimmering in her eyes. “Y/N...”

Sticking your hand into the pocket of your jacket, you hide your wrist so that Seulgi’s forced to meet your eyes again. “It’s nothing. Seriously. Just… concentrate on your boyfriend and be happy.”

“My boyfriend?” Seulgi repeats, eyebrows furrowing. Realization dawns on her just a few seconds later, mouth opening in a soft ‘o’. “Y/N, it’s not what you think!”

You can’t stop the scoff that slips out, the roll of your eyes that only brings more tears to Seulgi’s eyes. “So, you were just kissing Doyoung as friends? That’s what friends do now?”

The brunette shakes her head so fast that you don’t know how she isn’t dizzy already. “It’s not! I… I thought I had feelings for him, and that’s why I let him kiss me…”

“And what? You don’t have feelings for him anymore?” you sneer. You don’t mean to sound so bitter, but you also can’t deny that it’s how you feel. You’re so, so bitter that Seulgi isn’t yours, that you can’t be the one to kiss her under a full moon and have her hands on you. “Isn’t he ‘so sweet and cute’? Isn’t he the perfect gentleman and everything you ever wanted and-”

Everything happens in a flash; Seulgi’s hands are suddenly fisted in your shirt to pull you forward, and her mouth is on yours as you stumble. She doesn’t kiss like you thought she would, lips soft and tasting like sweet vanilla sugar.

No, Seulgi kisses you hard enough to bruise, all lips and teeth and tongue. Even when you relent, your own hands resting on her waist, her hands are still scrunched in your shirt so hard that her knuckles are white.

It ends too quickly, leaving you gasping for air, but Seulgi pulls back to almost shout at you, “He is, but it felt wrong. It felt so wrong to kiss him, when you’re the one I’m in love with!”

“Wh-”

“No, you’re going to let me talk,” she demands, her eyes shining with a fervency you’ve never seen before. “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been acting so tortured, so caught up in your own world! Even Sooyoung and Yerim noticed, on your birthday. Hell, even Doyoung noticed!”

Even Doyoung- “But most of all, I noticed,” Seulgi says, the words sounding uncharacteristically harsh. “I notice everything about you, Y/N, because I love you, and I think you love me. These past few months weren’t just hard for you, they were hard for me too. It hurts me to watch you destroy yourself like this just because you aren’t brave enough to tell me how you feel!”

“I…” Your brain seems to be short-circuiting, Seulgi pushing you up against the wall. The usually carefree girl looks desperate, the tears shining in her eyes maybe more angry than sad. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I just… I never thought you loved me back.”

“Because I hide it better than you.” There seems to be tears slipping down your cheeks too, the taste of salt on your lips. “Because I wanted to see if you would fight for me! I want to be yours, but you’ve never made a move.”

You gain enough control of your limbs to be the one to tug Seulgi toward you this time, pressing your lips together again. “Then why didn’t you?” you breathe out, the words soft as you’re mere inches away from her. “Why didn’t you make the move?”

“I was scared too, dummy,” she admits, biting her lower lip gently. You don’t ever want to move from this position, your hands cupping her face and hers linked behind your back. “We were both scared.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have been scared,” you laugh lightly. “We should’ve just made a move. And you can be mine now, if you want.”

Seulgi smiles again, tugging you so close that your bodies are flush. “Yours.”

And when you kiss again, it isn’t hard at all, not like before, but the gentleness with which you handle each other will stay much longer than a bruise.

Because you’re determined not to let go of her again. Because Seulgi is finally yours, and you’re hers, and maybe you were wrong that she was never yours.

Maybe she always was.

334 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

77. a prophecy said that we’ll save the world together but I’ll be damned if I enjoy your company while we do because you insulted my best friend the first time we met

Ot4, sfw, please!

Here you go! I'm very pleased with this one

The drive hasn’t changed. The road into Kepler goes under the same covered bridges and winds up the same hills it always has. Even the views from driveway to the October House are the same one’s he watched through back windows with rising delight. He’d hoped to get here when the fall colors were still crisp and bright, but they droop from the branches like mourners from the weight of the grey rain.

No one batted an eye when he said he was moving North on Joe’s invitation; Joseph Stern inherited the ancestral home in Vermont, with its sprawling grounds and stately decay. It would make sense that he’d ask the friend who spent so many summers with him there to take up the role of groundskeeper.

Duck pulls his truck into the carport next to a languishing Chrysler Imperial. He runs his finger over the black curves, raindrops plinking on the tin roof as he wonders whether he could coax Joe into taking him for a ride.

He leaves his bags in the car for now. Letting his friend know he’s here is the top priority.

The house is just as tall and mismatched as he remembers, turrets and wide windows mixed with sloping eaves and a sun room. It’s patchwork quilt character extends to it’s color; some walls are red, others goldenrod, and the door is bright as a ripe pumpkin.

Joe christened it the October House the first summer he and Duck visited there. Joseph’s aunt, a proud spinster, suggested his transplant parents send him to the family farm for a few months of growth. When Joe showed his characteristic skepticism about spending his summer alone in Vermont, she offered to let him bring a friend. He chose Duck every year.

The October House was the last thing they spoke about the night before Duck left for basic training (and, soon after, Normandy). Joe was already slipping off the map, recruited for secret purposes by men who valued his intelligence over his humanity. He told Duck to remember the summer they were thirteen, to remember he was brave.

It wasn’t Duck Newton’s first war, but it was for damn sure his last.

He opens the door with the tarnished key Joe sent him. Anywhere else, he’d call out to find his host. But he knows where he’ll be.

One flight of creaking stairs, a left turn down the hallway of faded photos, a right into the room with the mural of Noah’s Ark on the wall, and there he is. Black hair slicked back, blue silk robe covering old scars and new, and eyes that are bluer still turning to take him in.

That’s Joe alright; immaculate even in his madness.

“You’re here.” He stands, dazzling smile reflecting the firelight.

“Told you I’d come. Can’t leave you here to get buried alive in books.” He opens his arms, unsure even as he commits to the movement. Joe hesitates, then steps across crumpled maps of stars and seas to hug him.

“I missed you.” He whispers. Duck doesn’t mention that Joe was the one to disappear once the war was over. They had one night in Huntington celebrating the boys who made it home; Joe’s smile stayed painted on the whole time, but Duck couldn’t get him alone to ask why. Then he fled north and didn’t respond to letters.

“Missed you too, Joe.” He peers over the taller man’s shoulder, takes in the mural and all the materials on the floor. Duck steps from the hug, paper crunching under his boots as he goes to trace the door of the ark, “you’re tryin to go back.”

“I want proof Sylvain was real. I, I want to see it again, to know we didn’t dream it.”

“Got a scar on belly that says we didn’t.” Duck turns, slips his hands into his pockets, “why are you really tryin to go back? They told us we couldn’t, said that if we came home the gate would shut for good.”

Joe doesn’t answer right away, runs his fingers over the badgers and bears fleeing the flood, “Do you ever wish we’d stayed?”

Duck thinks about bloody sand. Then about Jane getting married. His folks celebrating their twentieth anniversary.

“No. Christ, Joe, we were thirteen. It was fucked up to ask us to. Who the fuck asks two kids to rule a kingdom?”

A weak laugh, “and people say I’m the smart one.”

“You are.” Duck touches his shoulder, “now c’mon, smart guy, you don’t show me where my room is, I’m takin yours.”

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

“You sure this is the spot?” Barclay keeps a close eye on the gathering darkness for any bursts of sickly white.

“Yes. The maps align with the stories that they emerged near “a stone like that of a broken heart.” Indrid draws hurriedly in the dirt with his claws, his lower hands uncorking bottles as he does, “come closer, if this catalyzes before I expect, I do not want you to be left behind.”

Barclay sets a hand on his shoulder. Feels his feathers shudder as he inhales.

“It’s time. I, if this does not work, I am sorry.”

He bends, kisses Indrid between his antenna, “I trust you, little moth.”

Indrid hums as amber light fills the clearing, and then everything he knows and loves dissolves into heat and empty air.

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

It's the same static, the rush of heat like wind in a wildfire. The hairs on Duck’s arm snap to attention as Joe leaps from his chair. The door on the ark shimmers and glows with alien majesty. Then two figures fall face-first on the floor and the light is gone.

“Are you alright?” Joe bends to help the first, feathered shape but it stands in a flurry of down, the hairy figure following suit.

“Yesyes, we are fine.” The feathery one looks like a massive moth with some human features.

“Oh.” Joe grins, “I’ve never seen a Sylph like you before. This, this is incredible.”

“You know what we are?” The other asks hopefully.

“We do. We, I’m, I’m Joseph Stern, and this is Duck Newton-”

“Thank the stars.” The mothman bends one knee, his friend doing the same, “yes, we are humble emissaries of the kingdom of Sylvain. We have searched for months to find our way to you. You, who prophecy says will aid us, return and take your rightful place as kings, and save our home once more.”

“No. Nuh-uh, not a fuckin chance.” Duck steps back, spots conflict in Joe’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” The mothman stands, “you, the prophecy, my visions showed you-”

“Then they showed fuckin wrong. I just got my life into some kind of order, I’m not letting you and some giant fuckin ape-thing drag me into another mess.”

Red eyes narrow, “Do not speak of Barclay that way.”

“I’ll speak about him however I damn well please because this is my house!”

“Technically, it’s my house.” Joe sighs, “But Duck is right. We almost died saving Sylvain once before. As, as much as I miss it, I’m not sure I can go back if it means risking our lives again. I was sort of hoping for a middle ground between being stuck here and a near-death adventure.”

“Please-” Barclay steps towards Joe.

“Hey, he said no, so fuck off.” Duck growls. The Sylph growls back.

“Buddy, do you have any idea how much we risked to get here? How much energy Indrid just used to open the gate. Oh, and, by the way, without the stuff we came here for we can’t go home. We’ll be stuck here.”

“Then you shoulda had a back-up plan instead of assumin you could just say a few fancy words and get us to go back. Oughta get some brains to go with the brawn there, big fella.”

“Enough” Indrid hisses, glaring at Duck. “I do not care if you are a chosen one, nothing gives you the right to speak to him, or to me, so callously. We came to you, you who are--if I did not make it clear--our last hope, and you respond with cruelty. I ought to teach you manners, but I will restrain myself.”

“Like to see you try.” He turns to where Joe is carding a hand through his hair, expression lost, “it’s your place, so you decide how we get rid of ‘em. But I’m done here.” With that, he stomps down the stairs, already suspecting Joe will let the Sylphs stay. When it becomes clear that’s the plan, Duck heads into the garden to work and stays there until all the lights are off.

It’s just after midnight when he wakes from a dream, slicing at the air while weak cries die on his tongue. He sits up, then goes gravestone still as the door opens. Indrid’s eyes are warning lights in the dark hall.

“Are you hurt? It did not seem fair to leave your calls unanswered.”

“No. Just had a, uh, a bad dream.”

The Sylph steps through the door, turning on the small, standing lamp, “It is strange to be the only one not waking in terror for once. Well, I suppose Barclay doesn’t.”

Duck tosses off the blanket, “Fuck, is Joe-”

“He is fine now. Barclay was up looking at cookbooks when he started screaming and went to him. Your friend did not wish to wake you, but was so shaken Barclay offered to stay with him.” A little smile, “he is very comforting. Soft, too.”

“You’re sure he was just dreamin? Not sick or anythin?”

“Positive. He was yelling in some other language.” Indrid fiddles with the knick-knacks on a shelf.

Duck runs a hand across his face, “Probably German.”

Indrid cocks his head.

“He had to learn it when he was a, uh, a spy in the last war. The one here. He...he got caught, I only know that because everyone talked about how miraculous it was that he escaped. Joe never talks about it.”

“One can imagine why.” Indrid murmurs.

“Then ‘one’ can probably imagine why I don’t want either of us near a goddamn battlefield.” Duck snaps.

“Is...oh dear, you think that is what we’re asking of you? Nono, we came here for help in preventing a war, one that may destroy both our worlds.”

“You coulda led with that, y’know?”

“I suppose. I, I am, or was, the court seer. But as the evil spread across our kingdom, it disrupted my powers. Now they’re gone entirely. It’s as if I am navigating the woods with no compass and no stars.” His antenna droop. Duck turns the chair near his bed in invitation. The Sylph moves quietly across the worn boards, “The last vision I received before they disappeared was of you two helping us; I saw a new timeline of futures, bright and hopeful, unfurl before it was gone. When you said you would not help us, it was like ripping my wings from my body mid-flight. That is why I was angry. Well, that and how you spoke to Barclay.”

“Sorry about that.” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “I just...when y’all showed up, all I could think about was bein back in the middle of a fight. Of, of seein Joe die.”

“I am sorry too. I did not know you had suffered such things.” Indrid picks at the blanket with chipped claws, “I cannot promise there would not be danger if you aid us. But I give you my word that you shall hear no more of it from me. I only wish for you to accept this quest if you wish to.”

“Thanks. That already puts you ahead of the last time.”

Indrid hums, then peers at Duck’s arm where a tattoo peeks from his shirt, “What is that?”

Duck rolls up his sleeve to reveal the pine tree, “got it because it helped me think of home.”

“Yes but how? To wear art on one’s skin, that is amazing. Do you think they could do it on mine?” He holds out his upper right arm. Duck runs a finger up it, thinking of the polished cherrywood on the table downstairs.

“Might be tricky. You need skin for it to work.”

“Blast.” Wings flutter once, “do you have more I may see?”

Duck unbuttons his shirt as Indrid scoots closer; if he’s not going to sleep tonight, at the very least he can make someone happy.

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

“Gotta say, y’all bein’ here is doin’ wonders for him.” Duck hands Barclay a glass of water as he joins him on the porch. Joseph and Indrid are sitting on a sunny path of lawn, Indrid showing the human his wings and explaining them in detail so he can make notes.

“Seems to go both ways. Indrid hasn’t been this animated since we left to find you two. He’s even more talkative.”

“Joe’s always been good at that. He can get anyone talkin, and can make almost anythin sound interestin.”

Barclay sneaks a glance at the human; he’s much friendlier these last two weeks, but his protectiveness of Joseph hasn’t waned.

“I wouldn’t say him cheering up is all on us. From what he told me, the week you got here made him feel like his cares were washing away.”

“Really?”

Barclay nods.

Duck sips his water, rubs the condensation with his thumb, “In, uh, in Sylvain, am I rememberin right that men could marry men? Ain’t always easy to tell when there’s so many kinds of beings runnin’ around.”

“Why wouldn’t that be okay? Some kinds of Sylphs, like Indrid’s, don’t even have things like men and women. I mean, when they offered you and Joseph a chance to rule as kings, the records make it sound like the two of you would have gotten married.”

Duck chokes on his water, splutters as Barclay pats his back, “I, fuck, I’d never, we’d never, I, fuck, definitely never ever didn’t think about it.”

Barclay lets the horrible excuse for a lie slide, “It’s a way bigger deal that Indrid chose me for this; being a seer makes him noble and I’m just a cook. Going off into the wild with me? Trusting me? Thought some of the ministers were gonna faint.”

“Was it just you helpin him or are you two, uh, y’know?”

“Yeah, I do. Can you blame me? Look at him” he gestures to where Indrid is spreading his wings so Joseph can study them. Stars would he like to go down there and hold the human tight while he taught him how to make Indrid purr.

“He really is somethin.” By the look on his face, Duck wants to do the same thing, just in reverse. After a moment, he murmurs, “the night before we were supposed to face the Red Devourer Joe and I were in the tent by the battlefield. Curled back to front, my arms around him and I could feel his heart beating hard as mine. Shoulda been thinkin about strategy, or prayin, or somethin’ like that, but all I could think was that I oughta kiss him, just in case we didn’t survive. But I didn’t. There were chances after that. I never took ‘em.”

“It’s not too late.”

“If you found out Indrid wanted to kiss you for years and was too chicken to, even when he thought he was gonna die, would you really let him?”

Barclay thinks of claws in his fur, of Indrid huddled against him and chirping softly when Barclay asked to kiss him.

“Of course I would.”

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

“How long until the summer?” Indrid tosses the wool scarf Duck lent him over one wing.

“Months. Y’all got here in October, which means we ain’t even into the worst of the winter yet.”

An annoyed chirr, “We need more blankets.”

“Get you more when we’re in town tomorrow, fluffball. Hah, here’s some.” Duck kneels to cut some surviving leaves from a wild yarrow. They’re out in the woods because Indrid is running low on his feather oil, which keeps him from being miserable and itchy. He described what it did and let Duck smell some (it’s a bit like aloe and vanilla) so the human could reverse engineer what earth plants might do the trick.

Duck brushes off his pants, looks around, “Huh, we made it to the Maples. Joe’s aunt said she never got much from ‘em, but I don’t think she ever really tried.”

“What is special about them?”

“It’s how you get maple syrup. It’s in these trees.” Duck smirks, remembering Indrid licking the dregs from the bottle at the house with his long, long tongue.

Crunch

He whirls to his left, finds Indrid with both rows of teeth sunk into a maple branch. He giggles, then guffaws as the Sylph pulls off with an indignant chirp.

“You, you gotta, hee, you gotta tap the trunk, n-hee” he doubles over as Indrid bites the same branch while drumming his claws on the trunk, “not quite, need some other tools.”

“Perhaps lead with that?” Indrid grumbles, wiping bark from his face.

“S-sorry just, just didn’t expect you to go to town on it like that, heee”

Indrid grins, “It was worth it to hear you laugh like this.”

God, when was the last time he laughed this hard? The thought sobers him, his joy faltering like a bird in a storm. Then he cackles as four spindly arms hoist him into the air.

“ACKhey, put me down fluffball! Ahhno thatheee, that tickles.” He laughs louder as Indrid holds him to his chest and rubs his fuzzy face against his neck.

“I thought that might do the trick” Indrid purrs, nuzzles his cheek, “no more despair, Duck Newton. Not today.”

Duck turns his face so they’re eye to eye, pine green to ruby red, “Deal.”

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

“I found everything on the list.” Joseph crumples the note paper and tosses it away as Barclay gleefully unpacks the shopping bags.

“This is so fucking great, I can’t wait for you guys to try this, and Indrid is going to lose his mind when he sees what I made. This dessert is his favorite.” He tucks the heavy cream and pears into the fridge.

“I’m excited to try it. We definitely didn’t eat any tarts when we were in Sylvain. The badgers who hid us from the red mist were, I think, pretty poor.”

“Yeah, the borderlands were bad off in those days. I was just a kid too but I remember digging out roots to try and make some kind of soup.” The Sylph turns those endearing brown eyes on him, “up for being my kitchen assistant again?”

“Always.” Joseph tucks a dishcloth into his belt. He’s very proud of himself for finding earth equivalents to all the ingredients Barclay needed to make a fall dinner from home. Having the Sylphs living with them means he goes into Kepler more often for groceries or goods to fix up the house. Everyone in town thinks his childhood friend is a good influence, getting him out of the stuffy confines of the October House.

They’re not wrong. When Joseph saw Duck in the doorway, a little world-worn but just as kind, just as practical as he always was, he decided that if the other man didn’t want to return to Sylvain, Joseph would set the project aside. He’d focus on the world he was in, because with Duck there he might yet find things to marvel at, things to discover that weren’t mired in the mundanity of human evil. They’d make the October House into a home, live out their days as bachelors.

Then Barclay had come through, auburn-furred and so gentle Joseph wanted to make like butter in the sun and melt. And Indrid, magnificent and vulnerable (and very infatuated with Duck). When Duck announced he’d help them look for clues to stopping the war, Joseph felt buried bits of his mind rising to the light of the new challenge.

After dinner, they take a pot of coffee into the living room. Indrid is delighted by records, is already putting one on as Barclay puts wood on the fire. The seer lays on the rug, head in his lovers lap and purring low.

Love me like there's no tomorrow

kiss me like it's goin' out of style

“You know, I wonder how one dances to this. It is not fast, but the rhythm is not like the formal dances at court.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” Duck stands, offering Joseph his hand. Lord, he’s pictured this so many times but still has to coax his own hand to move, “Joe, you’re leadin.”

He settles his hand on Duck’s hip and holds the other, concentrates on swaying them to the beat.

Hold me like you're afraid I might get away

Love like I've been gone for quite a while

“You can come closer, Joe. I ain’t gonna bite. Not in front of company.”

“I’m holding you to that.” He presses closer, prays for Duck to rest his head on his shoulder.

Take and wrap me in the package

my future my presence and my past

And love me like there's no tomorrow

and each day might be our last

“Dearest, I am rather tired from that lovely meal you made. Shall we retire?”

“Good thinking, little moth.”

Love me like there's no tomorrow

Make each night one more remembered

we will let the heaven be our guide

“Seems they didn’t need much of a demonstration.”

“Not sure that was Indrid’s endgame.”

Just love me like there's no tomorrow

and keep me right by your side

Joseph tips his head down, whispering, “What was?”

Keep me right by your side

“Duck?”

In the crackle of silence between songs, Duck brings their lips together. Joseph forgoes their stance and pulls him against him, their hearts magnets that were finally turned the right way. Then his feet stumble on the rug, Duck pushing him back with a ferocity he didn’t know he possessed.

Joseph drops into the chair, Duck pouncing before as he breathes. Joseph growls, the hunger that’s been chained threatening to crack his chest from the inside, and nips Duck’s lower lip.

“I said no bitin.”

“You said you wouldn’t bite.”

“You're right, darlin’” Duck cups his cheek as Joseph grips his thighs, “I’m gonna do so much more than bite.”

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

It never gets easier, waking from these dreams steeped in shame, fear, and sweat. Except this time someone’s arms are around him.

“I’m right here Joe, we’re here, we’re safe.”

“Very safe.” Indrid stands behind Barclay in the doorway, “another dream?’

“Yes. I, um, I-” he reaches for Barclay without meaning to, is ready to apologize when the Sylph slides into bed beside him.

“Is this okay?” It’s directed at both the humans.

“Yes.”

“Uh huh.”

Barclay adjusts so Joseph can hide his face in his chest. He should ask Indrid if he wants to be on the bed as well, the poor Sylph might think he’s not wanted-

“C’mon fluffball, my back is gettin cold.”

A delighted chirp and then a wing, black with a grey and red eyespot, drapes across him and Duck.

“Mmmmmm, I knew you would be lovely to hold.”

“Aim to please, sugar.”

“What happens now?” Barclay murmurs.

“My vote is we all get some sleep and work out the particulars in the mornin’.”

“Seconded” Joseph mumbles.

“We will need a good night’s rest; tomorrow I make the disguises for myself and Barclay so that we may begin our wider search.”

“Hope you guys like them.”

Joseph squeezes Barclay, smiling as Duck wiggles closer and Indrid’s wing grows heavier, “We’ll love them no matter what, big guy.”

#OT4: Government men and their cryptid boyfriends #sternclay #indruck #inclay #agent stern/duck newton #meet ugly #taz amnesty #agent stern/ barclay

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yeojaa · 3 years

Note

IDK IF UR STILL TAKING REQUESTS🥺🥺🥺 sorry if IM botherinh😭😭 BUT MYBE A FINDERS KEEP HERS drabble where jk n oc get in to an argument after chap 3 n jk apologizes or something like that😭😭🥺😭🥺🥺

[ read part one / main story ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. this is soft angst. JK being his usual idiot self, reader being... well, sad, and yeah. just pain (but w a resolution. ish). wc. 1.5k. beta reader. @hobi-gif beta’d a bit of this but i wrote most of it after so any dumb mistakes are my fault and my fault alone. 🤡 author note. this isn’t 100% what you requested but... the first part kind of is, and then this is the resolution (because people requested it). if you’d like another drabble, please feel free to request!

In true fashion, Jungkook tries to fix the problem in the only way he knows how: with money.

He puts the two of you up at the Four Seasons for the entire week, orders room service at all hours of the day and has treats from all of your favourite spots in the city delivered. (Macarons, candied nuts, that one bakery that does those salted honey pies you inhale like a wild animal.) He runs baths for you, fills the tub with your favourite scents (always Diptyque) and massages his tattooed hands all over your scalp. He makes sure you wake up to the smell of French toast and fall asleep on a bed of roses, curled up in his arms and little else.

He spoils you until you can hardly see the floor, designer shopping bags strewn throughout the suite. (His sisters help him decide what to buy, mouths sealed shut otherwise. They know better than to get too involved in his relationship with you.) Dinner is somewhere new every night but always at a Michelin-starred restaurant, space booked out to the extent it’s just the two of you and a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

Of course, he thinks things are better. Assumes they must be, because there’s never been a time where money hasn’t solved his problems. No matter how much, throw enough of it at something and the problem will go away.

But you don’t go away. Neither does your sadness.

“Baby.” It’s your last night together before you’re back to some semblance of normalcy (not that Jungkook’s life was very normal to begin with). He thinks he’ll miss it more than you will, if your lacklustre reactions have been any indication.

You’re fresh out of the shower - you’d turned down his offer of a bath, locked the door on your way into the washroom - and wrapped in a fuzzy white robe. “What?” You’re focused on running a comb through your hair, unbothered by your boyfriend who sits at the edge of the bed, legs wide and hands extended toward you.

It bothers him a bit (read: a lot). You’re better than you were, offering tiny smiles when he begs for them, accepting his kisses without complaint. It isn’t you though. Not the snark and the sass and the decades of friendship that normally thread your relationship. A book with its spine about to snap, held together by cobweb.

Despite the time you’ve spent together the last few days - almost every hour, sans when you were at work - you’ve been distant still. Not mean, of course (no, never mean, because you’ve always been soft on him) but different. Softer and harder all at once.

“Come here,” he coaxes, fingers curling around your wrist, pulling you between his knees effortlessly.

Normally, you’d curl around his shoulders, rake your nails through his hair. This time, you only allow yourself to be with him, palms flat upon the ridges of muscle plating his back. You don’t pass affection into his hair, don’t form a cradle for him to rest his head. (It doesn’t feel like home - not like it should.)

Jungkook hates it. Absolutely fucking abhors it. He wants his girlfriend - his best friend, his love - back. Not this spectre that’s taken up your space.

(He almost forgets that he’s the reason you’re the way you are.)

“What’s wrong?” The shape of his mouth curls, bottom lip pouting into that trademark expression that usually has you relenting, melting into a puddle of goo in his arms.

This time, you shrug, movement dislodging the soft soft terry cloth from your shoulders. “Nothing.” Dumb as he might be - oblivious in the way only someone like he can be - he can tell you’re lying. Offering the untruth right between your teeth, expecting him to accept it.

That bothers him even more. It’s one thing to put up an act, entertain him as if you were a court jester. It’s entirely another to treat him as if he’s a child, feeding him lies without a care.

(Notwithstanding the fact that Jeon Jungkook is, for all intents and purposes, a manchild.)

“You’re a shit liar,” he retorts, grumpy, coloured green and blue until his insides feel like mud. It’s strange, the discomfort that sinks beneath his skin and sticks his bones together. Like wading through quicksand or a bog, stuck to a place he doesn’t want to be. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” You’re deflecting, refusing to meet his stare, holding yourself within the confines of your robe as if you can’t bear to open up to him.

That hurts more than he expects. Slips sadness in alongside the frustration.

“About what’s bothering you.” The fact he has to do this is driving him mad. It’s akin to pulling teeth and he hates the dentist.

You scoff then - which he doesn’t expect. The sound kicks him right in the stomach, a sucker punch he doesn’t see coming. “You want me to talk about you?” It’s an uncharacteristically mean answer, brought on by whatever’s been bothering you, turning blood to battery acid.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

For the briefest moment, he considers lashing out in response - giving back exactly what he’s getting. But then he spies it, just there, past the usual warmth of your stare. It’s hiding behind crystallised amber, peeking past the edges. So much sadness it steals his breath right from his lungs, stripping him bare of red hot fury and leaving him lily white and lovesick.

When Jungkook speaks again, it’s feather soft, terribly light, begging and pleading in a single utterance. “Please.”

There’s silence for a beat, then another. It stings for each second it continues, treading misery all over the thing that beats in his chest. He’s not used to this. (You’re his first and only love. A part of him is grateful for that; another hates even this.)

He almost asks again - readies it on the tip of his tongue.

Then you’re unloading, giving him everything he’d asked for and more.

“I love you,” you tell him in a reedy voice, uneven like the foundation you’ve built together. Haphazardly thrown into place and hoped for the best on. “But you’re an idiot.”

(He deserves that, he supposes.)

Your voice is static, stretched thin and gossamer thin. Cheek pressed to his curls, you find comfort in your hiding place, as if shielded by the dark. “I’ve loved you for years and that’ll never stop. But when you do stupid shit, it’s so hard.” Your words are honeyed, thick and heavy as they lay into each strand, seep quietly into his ears. Where they’d normally fill him with ecstasy, delight, send him on a sugar high - these ache, sink right to the pit of his stomach. “I would give you anything. Anything.”

“I know.” Really, he does. He’s known that since you were kids. It’s why he’d fallen in love with you, even before he’d realised he had.

“Then why do you test me?”

It’s not rhetorical. You want an answer - something real you can hold between your hands. Something to act as the salve for all the hurt, to bandage the wounds left behind by your uncertainty. (He’s the same as you - needs to know he means as much to you as you do him. But you show it in different ways and that’s what’s brought the two of you to this point.)

“I’m sorry,” he answers, sliding his arms more securely around your waist, face buried into the soft fabric of the robe, into the warmth that lies beneath, into the heart that beats a rhythm identical to his.

“I don’t want sorry.” After all, you’d already gotten one. Weeks ago, when he’d pulled the stupid sophomoric stunt, he’d apologised. Had been apologising every day since then, but in all the wrong ways. “I want better.”

It’s as if all of his bones have been cracked open, the weight of your words settling like sand, discomfort and grit snapping his head to attention. “You want better?” There’s nothing but alarm in Jungkook’s expression, eyes wide, throat knotted in worry. “I—”

As always, you read him like an open book. Hands smooth down the sides of his cheeks, palms searing over his reddened cheeks. “Not like that.” You’re reassuring him even as it should be the other way around. (How ironic.)

He exhales a deep breath. Doesn’t tear his stare from yours.

“I just need you to be better.” You’d never ask this of him if it weren’t important, if you didn’t feel his ignorance and immaturity splintering your insides into glass shards. You’ve always accepted him exactly as he was, all the good and bad and ridiculous.

This is different though. You love him. You’re taking a chance with him just as he is with you. Laying your heart in his hands and trusting him to keep it safe, handing out the key in the hopes of building a home.

So you ask - for both your sakes.

He promises he will be and you believe him. Have to.

For both of your sakes.

#anon.eml #incoming.eml #work.zip #drabble.zip #finders.doc #bts au #bts imagine #bts drabble #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #jungkook imagine #jungkook.doc #bts

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iamvegorott · 3 years

Text

Bunny House

Summary: After seeing an image online, Wilford decides that his hand JJ’s pet bunny Sniffles needs an outdoor home, leading to some mess, laughs, and a surprise

Bunny House

JJ watched with a tilted head as Wilford carried a large supply of wood, paint, and other tools required for building a, and he quotes, ‘bunny home’. The bunny who would use the home was their little white bunny named Sniffles. Sniffles was mostly white with a black nose, black around his eyes, and a black heart-shaped surrounding his tail. Sniffles was always, well, sniffling and was currently sitting on top of JJ’s legs, dozing off in the warmth from the sun.

“There we are.” Wilford grunting, dropping the last bit of wood. “That should be enough for this.”

“Should be? Didn’t you sketch this out?” JJ asked, hands moving and the words appearing in Wilford’s mind, looking like subtitles across his eyes. JJ didn’t really have a voice, he could make some noises, but his speech was through sign language and a little bit of magic for those who didn’t know the language or weren’t looking at him.

“I mean, I did make a sketch.” Wilford pulled a rolled-up piece of paper out of his back pocket. He went over to JJ and showed him the rough sketch.

“There aren’t any measurements.” JJ pointed. “How do you know if you do have enough or if everything will line up?”

“I’m a master craftsman, my sweet sugarplum, I got this.” Wilford kissed JJ on the forehead as he took his drawing back.

“I feel like I need to call Dark to help.” JJ looked down when he felt movement, seeing Sniffles using his hind leg to scratch behind his ear.

“I don’t need Dark’s help.” Wilford puffed out his chest.

“Now I have to call him.” JJ took out his phone.

“No.” Wilford tried to snatch the phone but lost his footing, causing him to fell over on top of JJ, thankfully Sniffles hoped away in time and was now just bouncing along in the grass. “How’s it going~” Wilford grinned at his and JJ’s position.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” JJ giggled when Wilford perked up from that.

“Yes, sir.” Wilford chuckled and dove right in. JJ happily sighed into the kiss and nestled his fingers in Wilford’s hair. They both suddenly stopped the kiss when they heard someone clear their throat.

“You weren’t enjoying the show?” The voice and giggle told them right away that Anti and Dark were there.

“What brings you here, Dark?” Wilford asked, getting off of the ground and JJ. JJ stayed down and reached over to scoop Sniffles up, who let out a little sneeze.

“I heard news of a robbery of a hardware store and they stated that several gallons of pink paint had been stolen as well.” Dark raised a brow. “So I added two and two together.”

“I’m just simply making a little home for Sniffles, no need to fret,” Wilford said.

“Do you know how?” Dark said as Anti went over to JJ, plopping down next to him.

“I have a plan.” Wilford showed Dark his drawing.

“There are no measurements,” Dark stated.

“No, there are no measurements.” Wilford huffed.

“Guess I’m helping.”

“I don’t need-”

“You are not about to saw off your own arm.” Dark slipped off his blazer and tossed it at Anti, who caught it and bundled it up into a ball, hugging his arms around it. “Roll up your sleeves, they’re going to get in the way,” Dark said as he worked on his own sleeves.

“You could just take your shirts off,” Anti suggested, JJ silently giggling with him.

“No. Where are your goggles.” Dark went over to the pile of supplies.

“The what?”

“Oh boy.”

Several hours passed as Dark and Wilford worked. JJ and Anti had gone in and came out with some lemonade at one point, which led to Wilford making a joke about the two being in maid’s outfits the next time, JJ blushed and Anti was more than willing to go back in and change. Dark interrupted that conversation, and potential chaos, by saying they needed to get sanding.

Finally, after all the nails were hammered it, the cornered were sanded softer and passing ‘the wiggle test’ the foundation of the bunny house was made and they could get to the painting.

“I’ve been wanting to use one of these forever,” Wilford said as he prepped a large airbrush, loading it with pink paint.

“I don’t know if we should trust him with that,” Anti said.

“As long as he aims for the house, I won’t hit him,” Dark said, crossing his arms.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you coated in pink,” Anti smirked.

“That would be a sight to see.” JJ gave Dark a smile.

“I’m going to separate you two.” Dark didn’t like how Anti and JJ both giggled at that.

“And done!” Wilford hollered.

“Alrea-” Dark stopped himself, seeing that the house was, in fact, fully pink, but so were Wilford’s hands.

“Guess I got a little too excited.” Wilford chuckled and put down the airbrush. “I’m going to go pop in and give these a quick wash. You guys feel free to get started on the decorations.”

“I can make the bubbles.” JJ offered.

“Making those yellow stripes is going to be a bitch.” Anti said, looking at Wilford’s drawing again. “We should have taped then or something.”

“Shouldn’t be too much of a hassle, maybe two or three coats should cover it.” Dark shrugged. JJ felt something bump against his leg and found Sniffled headbutting his ankle, pouting. JJ knew what that meant and he picked him up, placing him on top of his head before getting to painting.

“That’s adorable,” Wilford said when he came back out, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “Although everything that you do is adorable.” He added, going over to JJ and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Are you going to make out in front of us again?” Anti teased.

“Don’t tempt me.” Wilford winked, grabbing a paintbrush.

“Just paint.” Dark cut Anto off before he could say anything. Anti just stuck his tongue out at Dark and they all went to work painting. JJ and Wilford painted bubbles to both roofs, Dark and Anti made yellow and blue stripes to the second floor and after those were done, made a candy-cane type swirl with blue on the bottom roof’s support beams.

“Are we late?” Edward called out as he and Henrik walked into the yard.

“Oh! Hello.” JJ straightened up when he saw the two, Sniffles still in his hair and sleeping. “More hello.” He added, seeing Google, Bing, Marvin, Chase, Robbie, Host, Bim, and Yandere coming to the yard as well. “What are you all doing here?”

“We’re still coming!” Phantom shouted with a laugh as he rushed over with Jackie. Mare, Mad, Blank, CJ, and RJ were following them.

“Why is everyone here?” JJ asked, looking at Wilford.

“For the grand finale of Sniffles’ home,” Wilford said, gesturing for JJ to go over to the crowd of friends.

“I knew he had something more planned,” Dark said softly to Anti as they walked over as well.

“Allow me to first.” Wilford grabbed a bottle of black spray paint and he went to the front of the little house, shaking the bottle before popping off the lid and spraying on the house:

Sniffles Jackson-Warfstache

“Ta-da!” Wilford bowered when he was done.

“Jackson-Warfstache?” Mad placed a hand to his face and tilted his head. “Isn’t it common for last names to be hyphenated together like that when people get married and don’t want to only have one last name?”

“And this is why I invited you over, my smart lad.” Wilford chuckled, heading over to JJ. “He’s a little blunter than even I am.” He added before going down on one knee, getting some gasps from the others. “And I knew I’d have an active audience.” Wilford reached into his pocket and took out a small box.

“You are not.” JJ took Sniffles off of his head, already tearing up.

“We’ve been together for many years and lived together for so long as well. I can’t see a future without you in it so I only found it right-” Wilford opened the box and a ring was shown, a gold band with flawless round red rubies inside. “-to ask you to be mine forever. JJ, will you do me the honor of-”

“Yes!” JJ jumped. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You’re supposed to let him-” Google was stopped by Bing putting a hand over his mouth.

“Yes!” Wilford jumped up and hugged JJ tightly, spinning around with him. “He said yes!” Sniffles let out a squeak. “Oh! Sorry, little buddy.” Wilford let JJ go. “You’re going to make a great ring-bunny.”

“I have a feeling this wedding is going to be...chaotic.” Dark sighed.

“And you’re going to be one of the best men.” Anti bumped Dark with his hip.

“Shit.”

---------------------------------------- Tag List: @shadowkitten0321 @trinitybob12 I’m also tagging @theprinceofflies because I know they love this ship <3

#dapperstache #sniffles the bunny #danti #some good ol' fluff #sniffles would make a great ring-bunny

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jenomark · 4 years

Note

Can you make a scenario where they realize that they are falling in love with someone? thanks!

Taeil: Though you were exhausted, you agreed to go on your third date with Taeil. He wanted to cancel for your sake, but you were persistent. “I want to be with you.” you had said. The date went well, and Taeil was beginning to have feelings for you. Instead of telling you how he felt, he watched you with admiration on his face, and a gentle smile. On the drive home, you curled up in the seat next to him and fell asleep. Taeil let you go, knowing that you needed sleep more than anything. Stopping at a red light, Taeil removed his jacket and placed it carefully over your body. The words hovered at the edge of his mouth, but he didn’t speak them. Not yet.

Johnny: You always found your way to Johnny whenever you had free time. The two of you would go to cafes, go bowling, and spend a lot of time out in the sunshine. During one of your daytime dates, Johnny tucked a flower behind your ear. “See,” he said. “I can be romantic.” You couldn’t stop smiling. Every time you looked at Johnny, your whole body felt like it was coming alive. Unexpectedly, Johnny grabbed hold of your hand and squeezed it tight. His expression was thoughtful and his words were soft. “I can’t wait to tell our kids about the moment I fell in love with you, a flower tucked behind your ear, and my heart in your hands.” The cheesiness made you slap your hand to his chest, and evoked the sweetest laughter from Johnny’s lips.

Taeyong: You were trying so hard. Taeyong sat at the table and watched you float around the kitchen, one hand holding the lid of a pot, the other hand wiping sauce on your pants. Every time Taeyong got up to help you cook, you pushed him back down by his shoulders. “Are you sure I can’t do something?” he asked. “Use me, I’m yours.” You turned to face him, considering his help. “No,” you said, finally. “I can do this. You’ve taught me well.” You turned your back to taste some of the sauce you made from scratch. You didn’t know Taeyong was watching you as you made a disgusted face, and Taeyong liked it that way. He watched you doing the most for him, watched how you could be soothed by just the sound of his voice, and he fell in with all the little things that made you who you were.

Yuta: Walking along the beach with Yuta made your days feel perfect. He held your hand as you walked, tugging at your fingers whenever he wanted to get your attention. “Look how pretty the sky looks,” he said. “Like a painting.” When he was feeling playful, he kicked water at you, or dragged you past your ankles into the ocean. Often, you would talk for hours on your walks. Time slipped by like sand in an hourglass whenever you both got into one of your conversations. You, using your hands too animatedly, and losing your train of thought easily. Him, stopping what he was saying mid-sentence to tell you how beautiful you looked. The sun went down too fast whenever you were together, painting your skin orange. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. Yuta paused and smiled, his eyes looking at every part of your face as if he were afraid he’d forget it.

Kun: Kun took care of everyone. In your worst days, Kun was there for you, and he never complained. “I’ll be okay,” he said over the phone. “When I’m feeling better, I will come see you. Don’t worry about me.” You showed up to his place with food and enough supplies to see him through his sickness. “What are you doing here?” Kun asked. You tightened the blanket around his body and pecked him gently on the forehead. “I’m here to take care of you, Qian Kun, whether you like it or not.” you said. You breezed past him and started doing all the things you knew would make him feel good: made him food, cleaned up his mess, and sat with him while he laid his head in your lap. “You didn’t have to come here,” Kun said. “I’m not used to people caring for me.” You brushed his hair back from his face. “Well, I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere.” you said. Kun looked up at you, his little nose red and his eyes watery. “You’re amazing.” he said.

Doyoung: You weren’t dating him, but you weren’t seeing anyone else either. You called him your friend, but friends didn’t do what you did. Every night, you found yourself in Doyoung’s bed. Everything was innocent, with neither of you making a move. You only slept in his bed. You wore his pajamas, listened to him talk in his sleep, and woke up tangled in his limbs. With him, you felt comfort unlike anything you had ever known. On a night when you weren’t supposed to be together, you found yourself walking the familiar steps to his place. “You’re here.” Doyoung said. You didn’t know how you had found yourself there, but when you saw him, everything made sense. You could see that it did for him, too. You began to lose your nerve. “I’ll leave.” you said. You turned to go, but Doyoung grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him. The kiss he left on your lips surprised you both. When you pulled away from him, he covered his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just..I-I love you.”

Ten: Without fail, Ten met you every day to walk you home from work. Rain or shine, there he was, his sketch pad in his arms and a charming smile on his face. He could have driven you home, but he wanted to spend more time with you. Though you were tired from your long hours of work, walking home with Ten was the highlight of your day. “You look beautiful.” he said. Every time he saw you, there was a different compliment coming from his lips. You were beautiful, radiant, sexy, and confident. Because of him, you truly began to feel those things. “What am I today?” you asked. You gave him a little spin right outside of your work, your mood unusually high. Ten looked speechless as he looked at you, his eyes blinking too fast. “Uhhh,” he began to say. “I’m sorry, but you look like someone I love a lot, actually.”

Jaehyun: He always said he didn’t believe in love at first sight. You thought he was just cynical about love, but Jaehyun surprised you in more ways than one. He was romantic and patient, giving and selfless. Though life with him always proved to be interesting, the man himself was quite simple. “What about the fourteenth time?” you asked. Confused, Jaehyun looked up from his phone. “What do you mean?” he asked. You started scraping your hair up into a ponytail. Jaehyun watched you closely, his eyes mesmerized by the way the ends of your hair touched your neck. “Since you don’t believe in love at first sight,” you began. “What if you fell in love with someone at fourteenth sight?” You had finished putting your hair into a bun. “Jaehyun?” you asked.” Are you paying attention to me? Where did you go just now?” Jaehyun blinked a few times to show you that he was paying attention. “Yeah,” he said.” I just…fourteenth time..yeah.”

WinWin: “You’re breathing really loud.” you said. WinWin rolled over until he was facing you. You opened one eye and could make out the shapes of his handsome face . “I can’t sleep,” he said. “My body feels restless.” You opened both eyes and leaned up on your elbows. You made a move to turn on the light, but WinWin closed his hand over yours. “No light, “ he said. “Please.” You laid back down and told WinWin to lay on his stomach. Every so often, WinWin couldn’t sleep because of stress. You had gotten to know him well over the last few months and knew exactly what would calm him down. When he was on his stomach, you lifted up his shirt and started rubbing his back. Immediately, WinWin began to relax. “Does it feel good?” you asked. Instead of answering yes, WinWin told you he loved you. It was simple and soft, the kind of admission you would miss if you weren’t paying attention. “I love you, too.” you whispered.

Jungwoo: Jungwoo shoved a tissue up each of his nostrils. When he got a cold, he was so needy. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “You could catch what I have.” You didn’t move from where you were, didn’t show him that you planned on going anywhere. Jungwoo’s eyes were wide, like he was scared. You didn’t like seeing him that way and going through it alone, so you stayed where you knew he needed you. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “If I get sick, Woo, I get sick.” Jungwoo coughed into his elbow. The cough made him whine and touch his throat. “I really think you should go,” he said. “I care about you too much to make you sick.” You crossed the room and sat next to him, so close that his germs could reach you. “If I get sick, “ you said. “Then you can take care of me. We’re in this together.” Jungwoo looked at you. Part of him looked like he wanted laugh, but the other part was so completely in love with you that he just couldn’t fight it any longer.

Lucas: You hadn’t seen him in two months because he was touring. You could barely wait for the car to stop before you darted outside to greet him. Lucas, who was normally too shy to kiss you in public, lifted you up and spun you around in a circle, his lips never leaving yours. “My baby,” he said. “I’m finally home.” You helped him pull his luggage in through the door and helped him remove his long coat. Lucas watched you do all of these things silently, his mind trying to keep up with how fast you were moving. “I missed you so much.” you said, dropping one of his bags and going to him. Again, he picked you up into his arms and kissed you passionately. “I missed you more,” he said. “I didn’t know how much until I saw you running towards me. Next time, you come with me. I don’t think I can spend another day without you.”

Mark: “You’re leaving?” Mark asked. You nodded, said your goodbyes to Mark’s roommates and let him walk you outside. “When will I see you again?” you asked. Mark hovered in the doorway, looking down at his bare feet. “Hopefully soon,” he said. “When are you free?” You wanted to tell him you were free anytime, that all you did was wait for him, but all you could say was that you would let him know. Mark looked behind him to make sure no one was coming down the steps before pecking you on the lips. “I’ll call you later.” he said. You waved at him while walking down his steps. “Okay,” you said. “See you.” Mark cleared his throat and said, “See you. I love you.” You froze on the steps, wondering if you heard him right. Mark left the door hanging halfway open as he hid behind it. “Mark?” you asked. Mark slowly stuck his head back out so that you could see him. His cheeks were red with embarrassment, and he was cringing. You smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Xiaojun: He wasn’t too affectionate. With Xiaojun, you took your time to break down his outer walls. If you gave him your hand, you let him hold it how he wanted to. Sometimes, he was playful in the way he gave you his love, choosing to show it at odd times. “I want to cuddle.” Xiaojun said suddenly. You looked at him to see if he was joking, but he was completely serious. “Never mind.” he said. You took his arm when he tried walking away. “We can cuddle,” you said. “If it’s what you want.” You didn’t wait for Xiaojun to take the initiative, because he never would. You brought him to the couch and had him lay down. When you pressed your body against his, Xiaojun inhaled. “Is this okay?” you asked. “Yes.” he said, draping his arm around you. You couldn’t fight how right it felt for you to be in his arms. Xiaojun exhaled slowly, pulling you a little tighter around the middle every time he did. “I love this, “ he said. “I love…being here with you.”

Hendery: Across the airport, he saw you. Hendery lowered the flowers in his hand and kept watching. All around him, people avoided him where he stood completely fixed to the floor. From afar, he could make out every emotion on your face. You couldn’t see him, but you were looking so diligently in the crowd for him. “Wow.” Hendery whispered underneath his breath. Your side profile was beautiful, your body just as addicting as the day you left. Hendery wanted to meet you, to touch you, but he didn’t want to stop staring. He didn’t care who noticed him. He didn’t care about anyone but you, your outline glowing only for him. When you finally turned and saw him, your whole face changed. You were so excited, your smile wide, and your eyes wet with tears. You made a run for it, bounding towards Hendery just to leap into his arms. Hendery caught your body and your love all at once, holding you tightly in case the world forced him to let go.

Renjun: “Are you asleep?” Renjun asked. You had been quiet for too long, which was abnormal for someone as talkative as you. He nudged you before looking over at you. With his busy schedules, it had been awhile since he had been alone with you. Renjun planned the movie date to be romantic. The two of you and some food, and a little bit of kissing here and there is all he really needed. “Hey, wake up.” he whispered. He shook your shoulder a bit and brushed his finger across your cheek. When you didn’t stir, Renjun couldn’t help but sigh from the disappointment. He had been looking forward to spending the time with you. Still, his kindness always won out. Renjun pulled your body down until your head was resting in his lap. He watched you sleeping for a little while, wondering how he had gotten so lucky to have you. During that time, he began to think of all the reasons he was falling in love with you.

Jeno: “I’m very drunk.” Jeno said. He kept trying to rub his eyes. Every time he went for it, you pulled his arms down and held his hands. “Yes, you are,” you said. “More drunk than I’ve ever seen you.” Jeno laughed and leaned in to kiss you. You pushed him away because you didn’t think it was right to kiss him while he was inebriated. Jeno straightened himself out and looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. “You’re taking care of me,” he said. “You’re very pretty.” Jeno tried petting your hair, and you let him. “Thank you,” you said. “I’m happy to be one of your cats.” At that, Jeno laughed and pulled you in for a bear hug. You guided him to his bed where you made sure he sat down. “You’re nice, “ he said. “Nicer than me, and you smell nice, too.” You peeled back the covers. “Thank you.” you said. Jeno grabbed your hand and held it. “I’m feeling a lot of things,” he said. “When I look at you…I feel..I feel a lot.”

Haechan: You managed to chase him all around the practice room. Haechan had been bothering you all morning, tugging bits of your hair and making fun of you whenever you spoke. You were always playful with each other, always keeping your relationship light. When you had finally caught up to him, you grabbed his t-shirt and pulled him to you. Dramatically, Haechan dropped to the ground in fits of laughter, attempting to drag you down with him. You straddled him, pinning his hands to the floor. “You always mess with me,” you said. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, sir?” Haechan kept laughing, his face a mirror of happiness. “No.” he said. You leaned down to kiss him, taking his laughter into your mouth. The moment turned serious, all laughter dissipating. When he looked back up at you, he was trying to find words to say. “What?” you asked. “Is there something on my face?” Haechan shook his head. He looked at you for a few more moments in silence before pushing you off of him.

Jaemin: You weren’t extremely sad, just sad. There was no cause to your feelings. Even though he didn’t understand what you were going through, Jaemin did his best to take care of you. “I’ll put on your favorite movie.” he said. You watched him search Netflix for the title. You had been dating a few weeks and didn’t think you ever told him what you favorite movie was. When Jaemin pulled it up, you couldn’t hide the shock from your face. “You didn’t think I would remember?” he asked. Jaemin pressed play. Through the first five minutes of the movie, you couldn’t stop thinking about it until you remembered. “Jaemin,” you said. “I told you my favorite movie on our first date. How did you remember?” Jaemin looked over at you. The expression on his face made it look like he was also surprised by his memory. “I don’t know, “ he said. “I guess you mean a lot to me.”

YangYang: You watched him cram a handful of french fries into his mouth. If that wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. YangYang talked with his mouth full, potato falling from his lips in an act that you found cute. “You have a lot to say today.” you said. YangYang nodded and took a sip of his soda. “I didn’t get to see you all week,” he said. “ No one else listens to me, and I missed your face.” You smiled and listened to him talk. When the conversation started to calm down, you looked down at his plate and saw one french fry left. You considered taking it off his plate and plucking it into your mouth, but YangYang wasn’t much for sharing. “Do you want it?” he asked. When you acted surprised that he would offer, YangYang pretended like he was offended. “It’s an act of love, “ he said. “And it will only happen once. Take my french fry.”

Chenle: “Zhong Chenle, you invited me to this wedding, and you will dance with me.” you said. You held out your hand and looked down at him, resisting the urge to pout. He was embarrassed, looking around at the friends sitting at his table, but he took your hand and let you lead him. You were always taking him out of his comfort zone, always making him a better man. “I don’t love dancing.” he said. You pulled him tighter and swayed to the music. “But you love me?” you asked. Chenle didn’t need to say it, you already knew.

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kookie-doughs · 3 years

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch. "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

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phoenix-downer · 3 years

Text

The Princess of Light Chapter 4: Heart of the World

~2290 words. Angst, Romance, Fluff, Fairy Tales. For SoKai Week 2021, Day 4.

Summary: Princess Kairi is cursed to be without love when she is a baby. She grows up cold and without a heart to help her understand other people’s feelings, no matter how hard her parents try to help her. One day, however, she meets a mysterious prince from a faraway world, and he just might hold the key to breaking her curse.

Prince Sora met with Princess Kairi the next night, and the next, and the next. She thought it was because he liked the light pool too, and he’d also said something about his ship needing repairing. Though all of that played a role, she was blind to the real reason he wanted to see her. This continued for over a month with Kairi none the wiser as to his true intentions, for a girl without a heart cannot understand things the rest of us take for granted.

One pleasant evening in early autumn, the moon shone down on the two of them and the light from the pool shone all around them. Sora thought Kairi looked like an angel as she floated on her back, and she caught him staring at her.

“What is it?” she asked, searching his face. She thought he had a rather pleasant face, all things considered. “I keep catching you staring at me.”

“Don’t you know why?” he replied.

She tilted her head. “Could you explain, please?”

Sora figured her curse would make any direct confession on his end fall flat. It is also entirely too easy to overdo a romantic confession, resulting in one’s beloved running for the hills, so Sora decided a different approach might be best. Though the thought of Princess Kairi taking off running and creating a miles-long trail of ice behind her after hearing an overplayed, overwrought declaration of passion made him chuckle.

“You’re laughing?” she asked, her face one whole puzzle of perplexion.

“Not at you, at my own silly brain,” he reassured her. “Sometimes I get these really vivid images in my mind, and they make me laugh.”

Kairi gently drifted in the light. “Like stories?” she asked. Not much caught her interest, but stories did. Sora had told her many stories about Destiny Islands, and she always listened quietly and asked him questions afterwards.

“You could call them that, yeah,” he replied. “But I’m getting sidetracked. You asked me why I keep staring at you.” He took a deep breath. “Princess, have you ever… had feelings for someone?”

“Feelings?” She frowned and touched the hole in her chest. “Without a heart, I’m not really sure.”

“Then let me tell you how it feels.” Sora smiled and rested a hand over his heart. “Like you can’t wait to see that person. Your whole day improves when they’re there. Your heart speeds up when they approach. You feel like you can do anything if you have them by your side. And you would do anything to be with them.” He sighed happily and studied Kairi’s face. “Have you ever felt anything like that at all, Princess?”

“No,” Kairi said after a moment. None of those things sounded like the strange fluttering she sometimes got in her stomach. And none of the rest of it was anything she’d ever experienced.

“Oh,” Sora said, his head drooping. He sank deeper into the light pool. “I’m… sorry to hear that.”

She floated downwards to catch up to him till at last they were both at the bottom of the pool. “Why?” she asked. From here little trickles of light bubbled up from between the rocks, for the pool was some distance above the Heart of the World.

Sora stared at Kairi, at her face surrounded by light, and despaired over her being so in the dark about what he was trying to tell her.

“Love is the most powerful magic there is,” he finally said, at a loss as to how else to explain it, for it impacted the entire way he experienced the world. “It’s like a light in a dark room that illuminates everything else for me.”

She reached for where her heart should be, but instead the usual empty hole greeted her. Sora’s heart went out to her. She was trying so hard to understand what he meant, but she just couldn’t grasp it. The whole thing reminded him of trying in vain to hold sand in his hand and watching it slip through his fingers.

“I’d like to experience it someday for myself,” she said at last, and he thought he detected a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

“I hope you will,” he replied, his voice breaking on the final word.

She studied him for a few moments, then said, “Can we fall in again?”

He smiled sadly. This at least was familiar territory. He offered his hand, and she took it.

“Of course, Princess,” he told her. They fell in several times together, and hearing her laughter, seeing her smile… poor Prince Sora became even more smitten with her. He resolved to help her however he could. It was clear her parents had tried everything they could here on Radiant Garden. But maybe his parents on Destiny Islands could offer their assistance. Maybe there would be some clue or hint as to how to help Princess Kairi. The repairs on his ship had been completed, so he could go back and ask.

When it was time to go home, Sora bowed and said goodbye. Kairi tilted her head, as normally he simply told her goodnight. She looked radiant in the moonlight, with the wind playing with her hair and rippling through the grass beneath her feet, and his heart fluttered in his chest.

“Princess, I’m going home to see if I can find something that might help you,” he said.

“Oh, okay,” she replied, her voice sounding as if he’d told her he was having a sandwich for lunch tomorrow. He tried not to feel a little stung over her lack of sadness at their parting, but it hurt nonetheless. Still, it drove his resolve to find a way to help her.

“I don’t know when I’ll return,” he said, “but I’ll come back to you, I promise.” His hand curled into an upright fist, a gesture on Destiny Islands that meant you were determined to follow through on your promises.

Kairi hesitated for a moment, then said, “Okay. Goodnight.” He wondered if she’d understood him at all. What if, in his absence, she thought he’d left her for good and forgot all about him? The truth was that she didn’t have much experience with saying goodbye. The people in her sheltered existence were just always there, and she supposed they always would be.

As she and Sora parted ways, they didn’t notice the strange black bird perched in a nearby tree. Despite what the stories say, spooky black birds can hide in the shadows perfectly well, thank you very much. And this one did its job splendidly and returned to its mistress in her creepy castle and reported what it had seen.

“Diablo, thank you,” Maleficent said, petting its head as it perched on her shoulder. “This is very grave news indeed. You say this foreign prince was flirting with my pathetic excuse for a niece? That he’s searching for a way to help her?” Maleficent shuddered. “That’s not good. That’s not good at all. Suppose she starts to regain her heart. We can’t have that, now can we?”

Cursing Kairi further would be too obvious. No, Maleficent needed to do something more wicked and depraved than what she’d already done. That’s another problem with being evil. You soon acclimate to lesser evils and need greater and greater ones to give you the same twisted rush of delight.

“You say the princess is always playing in that light pool?” Maleficent said. “And now with that prince too? Well, we’ll have to do something about that, now won’t we?”

She cloaked herself in darkness and used it to travel quickly to the Heart of the World, which was in a cavern deep underground. Now, the Heart of the World is not a heart like you or I have; it is physical, but it is in the shape of a heart that children like to draw on scraps of paper, not the shape of an actual physical heart. At the time of our story, it was not as magnificent as it had been in olden days, but it was still big and red and bright. A single stream of golden light flowed out of it, and from there winded and curved through a series of tunnels and caverns up, up, up to the light pool guarded by the royal family. The whole thing was very beautiful, but to someone like Maleficent, who was twisted by the darkness, it was horrifying.

Reaching into her cloak, she pulled out a tainted dagger. Tainted objects like this one leave no mark on their victims, who die slowly and in great agony. It was how she had killed her own father, the former king, without getting caught.

With a cruel glint in her eye, she drew the dagger, strode to her next victim, and plunged her weapon into the Heart of the World. The poor Heart shuddered at the wound, for it is very much a living thing. Maleficent smiled wickedly and yanked the dagger out of the Heart, doing even further damage to it, then tucked it back into her cloak. While she could have used a single curse or spell to completely obliterate the Heart, that would not have satisfied her desire for revenge and petty evil in the slightest.

No, she wanted the Heart to slowly die and the light pool to slowly dry up. Her smile got bigger as she thought about what would happen next, and that smile turned into a cackle and then into a roaring laugh.

~~~

When Princess Kairi went to the light pool the next evening, she had two surprises. The first was that Prince Sora was not there to greet her like he usually was. She frowned, but the light pool was too enticing to leave alone for long, so she sat next to it and began removing her shoes and socks.

Now, Kairi had been visiting this pool every evening since her thirteenth birthday. She knew it better than anything else in the worlds. So when she was about to step in, she noticed there was slightly less light in it than there should be. She shrieked and raced the short way to the castle barefoot, leaving a trail of frozen grass behind her.

“Aqua! Mom! Dad!” she cried as soon as she arrived, panting for breath.

“Kairi?” Aqua called from a window a few floors above. She spotted the trail of frozen grass behind Kairi that was continuing to spread and yelped. “My lady, your feet!”

Kairi gasped as she realized what she’d done. Aqua was already to the rescue; she grabbed another pair of enchanted shoes and socks for Kairi and tossed them down. Kairi hurriedly put them on, and by the time she was done, Aqua had joined her and sent for Kairi’s parents.

“What’s wrong?” Aqua asked, for she could tell Kairi was very distressed.

“The light pool is drying up!” Kairi cried, her eyes wild. “It’s drying up! What am I gonna do?”

Aqua’s heart thudded in her chest, for if Kairi was right about this, then…

“Are you sure?” she asked, searching Kairi’s face.

Kairi nodded and fidgeted with a strand of her hair. “There’s less light than there was before. Aqua, what’s gonna happen to me? If it dries up, will I freeze?”

Aqua didn’t know what to say. They needed to investigate the issue further. But if the light pool dried up, then Kairi would very likely freeze to death. Right now it kept her warm and kept the curse in check, but if it was gone… The light enchanting her clothes would stop working too, and—

Before Aqua could say anything else, however, Kairi’s parents and a few guards arrived. After a brief explanation, Aqua went with her father and the guards to investigate the light pool, leaving Kairi with her mother to await the verdict.

This was any mother’s worst nightmare come true: her daughter in imminent danger. Especially because the queen partly blamed herself for the curse. If only she’d taken her husband's concerns about Maleficent seriously instead of insisting he try to reconcile with her, their daughter might not be in this situation. So while she did her best to soothe Kairi and reassure her, she was very scared herself. Especially when Kairi’s breath caught and she clutched her chest.

“Mom, I think the hole’s getting bigger,” she said. All of the queen’s careful composure fled at Kairi’s words, and tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. What if the hole consumed Kairi? What if it devoured her daughter till there was nothing left?

This was all her fault. If only she’d protected her daughter better.

Kairi frowned and touched the queen’s face. “Water’s leaking out of your eyes again.”

That just made the queen cry harder. Her poor daughter couldn’t even cry for herself and her fate. All she could do was purse her lips and tilt her head to the side as the queen shed the tears her daughter could not.

When Aqua, the king, and the guards returned, they confirmed that the light pool did appear to have a little less light in it. The next day, the difference was definitely noticeable. By the third day, the light pool had lost a good foot of depth, and Kairi felt ill. The hole in her chest kept getting bigger, and the enchantments for her clothes had weakened, leaving her colder than usual.

If the light pool drained completely, everyone feared the worst. While the royal family initially tried to keep what was happening under wraps, word soon spread, and the king and queen knew they would have to take action.

It was time to consult outside help.

#sokai #sokaiweek #sokaiweek2021 #sora #kairi #kingdom hearts #kh fanfiction #phoenix writes #phoenix-downer #angst #romance #fairy tale #fairy tales #the light princess #inspired by the light princess #the princess of light #chapter four #long post

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