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#she always has the control. she can always swoop in and hurt me again. all i can do is wait for the bombs to drop and clean up the wreckage
journaldefafa · 5 months
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Free as a Bird?
I was raised like I was not enough. I was raised that all the good things in life will only come to me “if I …” there was always a condition. Good things don’t come to me out of nowhere, or from kindness, or from pure intentions. I have to strive for them, be perfect for them, be obedient, and look pretty. As a woman, today, I feel undeserving of love. Because I was systematically fed by my mother that I am not enough. That I still didn’t reach the level of perfect that makes me worthy of love. Or worthy for someone to even look at me. And today, I completely believe it. I don’t know what my good traits are because for years they’ve been clouded by my worst traits. My bad traits that remind me every day why I am the despicable version of myself till now. The ones that shame me everyday for ever dreaming I could escape this. Escape what seems to be written for me… a life so mundane.
I’m lazy, I don’t cook, I don’t clean, I rarely look good in the house, I’m fat, my hair’s a mess and it keeps falling, my skin is bad, my ugly tattoos, stretch marks and cellulite that mama keeps saying she only got when she was pregnant (unlike me, I got them when I was 13), I don’t know how to talk, I’m not eloquent, my laugh is loud and cheap, my words are rough and unfeminine, I’m too sensitive.
I know I’ve missed plenty still. I feel delusional trying to reassure myself that one day prince charming will come and he’ll swoop me away. And I go somewhere far away. And maybe never come back. I hate that I write this with so much guilt. I hate that I have this huge responsibility of being obedient. I can’t seem to break it, and even when I only crack, I get a heinous reaction from my mom that just makes me feel like I can never truly tell her how I feel. I can never tell her how hurt I am because of her, how she has controlled every aspect of my life, that she’s the reason I am who I am today.
She really cut off my wings, and now I feel like I am her prisoner. She says she can’t live without me, she can’t be far away from me, and she keeps me locked up and grounded. That I feel like if the day ever did come, where I do find someone, she’ll be the one tying me down so that I don’t fly again.
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katnissmellarkkk · 2 years
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A small drabble about from Peeta's perspective if he'd been the one rescued and Katniss in the Capitol?
You asked for a small drabble and I wrote a long long reverse situation oneshot 😭😭😭😭. Well anyways I hope you don’t mind.
Warning : this is in Peeta’s point of view and I’m still new to writing anything in his perspective so. Be gentle please. 🤗🥺.
Okay I hope anyone who reads really does genuinely enjoy it and has a good time. Thank you for all the support you’ve blessed me with. Thank you so much. ♥️♥️♥️♥️
Summary : Peeta was rescued instead of Katniss and is in Thirteen with Gale and co. when Katniss’ interview with Caesar comes on television.
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The stew feels overly slimy in my mouth during lunch, even more so than in the weeks previous. I can’t tell if my tastebuds are being affected by the crappy morning I’ve had or if the lunch crew screwed up the batch yet again but one way or another, my appetite dies by the time I’ve swallowed spoonful number four.
“Here,” Gale gruffs, shoving his glass of murky water in my direction.
I eye it suspiciously though, before raising an eyebrow at him. “Did you already drink out of it?”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone roll their eyes harder in my life. Besides Katniss, of course. Besides the girl with the braid who rolled her eyes at me in her sleep and sometimes scowled the moment she woke up.
Thinking about her only makes it hurt worse. Thinking of her pretty face as she slept and her upturned eyes that never looked as intimidating as she believed and her self-conscious laughter that filled the small moments when we didn’t have to play pretend for a nearby camera, only serves in further suppressing my appetite.
I try to hold onto the image of her, on-screen, sitting opposite Caesar Flickerman, looking entirely bored out of her mind and absolutely furious and completely healthy.
That image is all I have right now to keep me going. That image represents just about the last shred of sanity I still have left inside, after two hunger games, a lost limb, the destruction of my home, the death of my entire family in one fell swoop and a now raging war.
She’s okay, I chant to myself silently. She’s unharmed and she’ll stay that way until we can rescue her out of the Capitol in time.
I have no immediate idea of when that’s happening. No guarantees that it even ever will. But I can’t bear to let myself consider — even in the privacy of my mind, even just to myself and no one else — any alternative outcome.
She has to be alright. There’s no other option.
Gale fixes me now with an irate glare before murmuring, “you think we’re close enough to share germs now, Mellark?”
But wit has always been my native tongue and with no family here in Thirteen and no one in the world besides Delly and Finnick — I will not so much as speak to Haymitch, even if my life depends on it — to really be myself around, there’s little self-control left inside me. “So I take it you didn’t like the friendship bracelet I made you.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” he immediately shoots back, shoveling his bowl of stew into his mouth while still speaking. “I’m wearing it right now as an anklet.”
“I can’t wait for you give me mine.” After an entire childhood sharing a single room with two obnoxious brothers I don’t miss a beat before replying either.
“I’ll drop it by your door tonight.”
“I’ll be waiting on baited breath-“
“Okay!” Delly exclaims from her spot on my other side, looking unusually aggravated by our exchange. “Can you two just stop for one single meal?”
The entire table falls silent then. Finnick shoots me a small smirk, indicating he was enjoying the entertainment our exchange provided. Haymitch on the other end of the table, as far from me as he can get, even chuckles lifelessly.
His black eye, bruised ribs and broken nose though make such an action rather difficult. And it’s cruel, it’s uncharacteristic, it’s something downright reminiscent of my mother, but I can’t stop myself from feeling a hint of satisfaction at his discomfort.
And after the way he betrayed me and Katniss with lies about the rebellion, after those same lies left me and her in the dark and ultimately resulted in her capture by Snow, I am satisfied that he’s in pain. I’m even more satisfied that I’m the only who put him in pain, on the hovercraft. Evidently I’m a whole lot stronger than my mentor ever gave me credit for. And, when properly motivated, a lot more violent.
I am, after all, my mother’s son.
I must not be as subtle as I think because Gale effortlessly follows my line of thinking. He raises his brows in a dismissive gesture towards Haymitch, as if saying you deserve it, before pushing his water glass back in my vicinity again.
“Drink this while you eat the stew, Mellark,” he says in a flat voice. “It helps wash down the slime.”
“Thanks but I’m not hungry.” I wave off the suggestion, preparing to stand from the table and head towards my scheduled District Thirteen class. The stamp on my arm tells me it’s supposed to begin twenty minutes from now.
“If you don’t eat, you won’t get stronger. No matter how hard you train,” Gale states, his voice rather matter-of-fact. I almost want to argue his point, just to rile him up. I suppose after a lifetime as the youngest sibling and never being allowed to stir the pot without receiving harsh consequences, being a pest is ingrained deep inside the core of my being. Being the youngest must vexatious a core personality trait.
But then again, are you even still a sibling if both your brothers are dead and burned to ash? There’s a word for when you lose both your parents — orphan — but no one ever invented the word for losing your siblings. As if such a reality wasn’t plausible. As if no one ever lost their siblings.
The thought of my brothers immediately sobers me and I accept Gale’s offer willingly this time, gulping the water down in under three seconds.
“That’s not how he told you to drink it,” Posy Hawthorne, Gale’s baby sister says, her eyes growing big with worry. She glances at my bowl of stew, sitting before me, still nearly untouched. Her tiny dark eyebrows knit together as she imagines me going hungry without the ability to wash the bowl down with water now.
And she looks so much like Katniss did when we were kids that it’s almost painful to meet her frightened face. But I force myself to. I force myself to look at her with the calmest expression I can mange.
Because she’s still just a little girl, who doesn’t deserve any of the hardships life has already managed to throw at her.
“Don’t worry, Posy,” I say with a perfect false assurance in my tone. I scoop up a large glob of stew and shovel it into my mouth, just like her big brother did. “I’ll finish my lunch just fine without it.”
“He’s a big boy, Posy. Peeta can feed himself,” Finnick says, giving her a playful, genuine smile, eliciting her tiny laugh.
Gale shoots me a look from across the table but for once it’s a look of gratitude. I’m not surprised. Just like Katniss, his little sister is his soft spot.
Delly starts telling Posy that she likes her hair, that her mother, Mrs. Hawthorne, did it especially nice today. I’m about to join in and compliment her as well when the television screen that resides above the cafeteria tables suddenly flickers to life.
And Katniss’ face fills the screen without warning.
My first reaction is to stare in surprise at the image in front of me, of the beautiful girl who overtakes my thoughts day and night, of the person who President Coin is so desperate to turn into a martyr for her cause.
But after the initial shock of seeing her on-screen wears off, horror overtakes every part of me that’s still able to feel.
Katniss doesn’t look like the girl I saw on the television no more than a handful of days ago. How many has it been now? Five? Six? The number of days separating the two broadcasts don’t make sense. It’s not possible the Katniss on screen is the same Katniss who appeared unharmed and disinterested only a few short days ago.
Her face is inarguably thinner, her eyes look gaunt and unnaturally wide open now and her shoulders have a hunch to them that I’ve never seen before. She’s lost at least fifteen pounds, developed a severe tremor in her hands and is covered in thick makeup, a shade too pale for her olive skin.
I can’t even form words. Staring at her forces my throat to close up in the most pitiful way possible. Not even as a child, when my mother used to berate me until I cried, when she lost her temper and would smack me with a breadboard, when my father drank himself into a stupor, did I feel quite like this.
Staring up at Katniss now feels like my heart is being ripped to shreds, right on sight.
And then she starts speaking.
I can barely understand her. Her typical melodic tone is hoarse and muted and raw. I doubt anyone in this room really understands the first few minutes of her interview. She’s mumbling and shaking and biting her lip until it looks like it’s about to crack open and bleed.
“She…” Finnick starts before hesitating. No one prompts him, too focused on the girl before us, the girl who once set the nation on fire — me included — but now looks as if she were burned by her own embers. But Finnick still finishes his thought, even without being cued. “She looks small. Young and small.”
It’s Haymitch who replies first, surprisingly enough. “She is young and small.” I can see, burning within his gray eyes, that he’s filled with regret for not better protecting the girl he just claimed was young and small.
But I’m still angry with him. I’m still so uncontrollably angry, to the point that I feel unhinged just by thinking again about what he did to us. So I don’t care if he’s dying of remorse. I don’t care if Haymitch chokes on his own guilt. I’ve washed my hands of him.
Katniss clears her throat, abruptly sitting up as tall as she can make herself appear before opening her mouth and staring right into the camera lense.
“Peeta doesn’t know what he’s doing,” she asserts but she was never an actress, as hard as she may have tried, and I can see the truth behind the sentiment just by looking into her glassy eyes.
“And what about the way the rebels are using you as their symbol?” Caesar asks, his usual vigor evaporated from the interview. He appears to be enjoying this interaction as much as she is right now.
“They’re using me. Obviously,” she says, too quickly to be convincing. Her voice waivers again as she adds more. “They’re trying to… to whip up the rebels. Neither me nor Peeta have any idea what the rebels are up to.”
“Does Peeta know what’s at stake?” Caesar quietly prompts after a beat of silence, as if Katniss forgot one of her lines.
“No!” Her voice raises in volume but it cracks. On the one syllable word she manages to utter, her voice cracks. “Peeta doesn’t know anything about the rebels or what they could do. I mean,”she stumbles again and corrects herself erratically. “He doesn’t know what damage they could do to the country.”
“And is there anything else you wish to tell Peeta while on the air?” Caesar asks evenly, nodding like he’s giving her a hint.
She takes a deep breath and nods, still staring right into the camera. She’s still so beautiful, I think to myself, feeling as paralyzed as she appears at the moment. I want more than anything to rescue her from Snow, even if I die in the process. I want more than anything to go back to that last night in the Quarter Quell and never let anyone separate us, never let Beetee and Finnick and Johanna pressure us into splitting up.
I’d do anything to take those last few minutes back. Reverse our positions and put me in the line of fire in the Capitol. Let me take her place, no matter the cost.
Katniss opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. There’s a long pause, where whoever is operating the camera waits for her to recite her spiel. When she fails to do so, Caesar begins to redirect the interview back towards him speaking and her merely nodding.
But Katniss is nothing if not a fighter and however terrified and choked up she may be, she doesn’t let it stifle her entirely from what she’s determined to say.
“Peeta, don’t trust President Coin or the rebels. You can’t!” She urges, lurching forward so that she’s right up on the camera, giving herself an involuntary close-up.
Her bright gray eyes still shine so bright, like stars in the sky. Even sparkling with tears.
“Do not trust anyone, Peeta! Just get my family and run! Listen to me! Coin cannot be trusted! Coin is just as bad as Snow-“
As soon as the words slip out of her mouth, the screen goes instantly black. The seal of Panem flashes across the screen. And then an eruption occurs within the room.
But I’m not here. I’m not here, mentally speaking, inside this cafeteria.
I can’t listen to any of the commotion unfolding before me. My body isn’t even within my control in this moment. I hurriedly stand from the table, in a trance that I couldn’t snap out of even if I wanted to. And I don’t. I don’t want to feel anything. I don’t want to hear anything. I don’t even want to think.
My legs propel me forward, out the doors to the hall and down the corridor. I don’t know where I’m headed and, frankly, I really don’t care.
Because I already know how this will play out. Coin has the option of either claiming Katniss is a traitor to the rebels or she’s a captive girl who is saying what she needs to survive.
And I can already guess which alternative she’ll choose.
I don’t know how far I make it before Gale catches up to me. I’m almost to mine and Finnick’s quarters before he grips my shoulder with a forceful hand.
He of all people should know better than to grab someone who fought in two hunger games like that. Before I can reason with myself, my body instinctively swings around and aims a jab at his left cheek.
Luckily he ducks just in time.
“Good reflexes,” I retort in a sarcastic tone, not in any mood to fake pleasantries towards Katniss’ best friend.
But Gale is, as per usual, all business. “Mellark, we have to get to class. Okay, we need to focus and train now more than ever.”
I shoot him an extremely dirty look. “Training isn’t going to save Katniss from whatever Snow’s doing to her at this very minute.” The images flashing behind my lids every time I close my eyes is enough to make me sick.
But it would seem Gale is already prepared for my dismissive response, as if he predicted it already. Which is odd, considering how little time we try to spend alone together. “You said yourself days ago that the more we train, the harder we work, the closer we are to getting Katniss back.”
“Hawthorne, she was fine days ago. She was unharmed.”
“And now she just made herself an enemy to both sides of the war. She just stuck a target on her own back.”
“Why do you think I had to escape?”
“Peeta,” he finally addresses me by first name. But it doesn’t have the desired effect over me. My brain is still swirling with images of Katniss being beaten, tortured and killed in insane and unusual ways. Going to a class to learn about assembling beginner bombs and then running five miles around an indoor track just doesn’t sound productive to me anymore. “We need to get ready. She doesn’t have much time left,” Gale says.
He’s referring to the mission we’ve only spoken about a small number of times. The mission to extract Katniss, no matter the cost, if it looks like Snow is about to kill her.
Of course, we have to consult Coin and Boggs and all the other high ranking soldiers on the president’s payroll before we even have a chance of attempting the rescue mission. But the first priority is to learn all we can in as short amount of time we can possibly manage.
It’s not a terrible plan at all. It’s downright logical, strategic, simple and it results in Katniss’ escape from Snow.
I of all people should think it’s good though. Considering I’m the one who came up with it.
But the image of Katniss on Caesar’s talkshow is still burned inside my mind and I don’t think I can focus on anything else quite yet.
“Just go train by yourself,” I snap when Gale begins pressuring me again.
“You need to be there too,” he barks, having lost all sensibility now, just like me.
“Oh, I think class will proceed just fine without me today.”
“Not in training, you idiot. I’m saying on the rescue. You need to be there.” There’s a glint in his eyes now that looks outright furious. It takes me half a second to realize he’s furious that I’m making him admit this.
“I need to be there?” I repeat, my voice no kinder than his now.
“Yes.” There’s a long, awkward pause as he carefully contemplates his next words. “Mellark, she needs you. Alright, you need to keep working here so you can go on the mission and get her. Katniss needs you.”
“Nobody really needs me.”
“I do. I need you.”
“Katnis needs you,” he repeats again, sounding no happier about it than before. “She needs you and that means you have to be ready to go-“
“Okay,” I cut off, my voice shockingly collected. “Okay. I’ll go to training. I’ll learn as much as I can.” 
There’s a long, pregnant pause before we start moving. Neither of us are enthralled to be together but we both know the other is necessary to our overall goal.
Because Katniss needs her family. And Gale is a part of that, now and forever.
And she needs me. She said so herself on the beach. She needs me.
I take a deep breath and use that admission as my motivate to keep going. My motivate to keep working until I can find a way to Snow’s mansion, until I can find a way to break her out of there, until I can find a way to get her here in District Thirteen safely.
I just hope that when I do find her, she’s still alive.
-
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tothemeadow · 3 years
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Can I request a uzui x shy reader where reader is his fourth wife but she feels left out a lot so she distance and avoid Tengen and her co-wives. When reader comes home one day she surprised to find uzui home by himself because he was meant to be out with the others and she was going to try avoid him again but as he wants an answer to why shes acting the way she is and turns into a smut in the end? :>
Did I get carried away with this? Maybe. Could I have written more? Absolutely. But I have to practice self-control.
‘i want to be part of your constellation’ / Uzui T. x Reader
warnings: NSFW, cunnilingus, Tengen’s fat tiddies
words: 2,492
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Sometimes, being a Pillar’s wife is hard. They’re constantly away, fighting battles and saving lives; there’s always that lingering chance that they may never come back. It’s a dangerous life, but a respectful one nonetheless.
This is what drew you to Tengen in the first place – despite his brash, asshole attitude, he’s selfless. It was during an attack at your parents’ farm when you first met him; appearing like a night in shining armor, he rescued you from a bloodhungry demon, his movements powerful yet graceful all at once. As a thank you, your parents offered your hand in marriage to the handsome stranger. Surprisingly, Tengen agreed, but it wasn’t like you were going to deny marrying someone of his status and exquisite looks.
However, you didn’t know about the other women in Tengen’s life. As you quickly found out, he had three other wives, all of who he met while in the shinobi forces. Of course, you weren’t a fighter like them, nor did you have that close relationship from sharing the same background. No, you were the docile one of the group, the one meant to take care of the home while the others went to fight demons and the like.
Even two years later, things haven’t changed. You love Tengen, and the other girls are basically your best friends, but the chasm separating you from them couldn’t be more evident. Sure, you’re part of the “family,” but it doesn’t necessarily feel like it. You’re the quiet one, the one that keeps to themselves, the one who’s in charge of a happy homelife. And so you distance yourself from everyone else, stick to the sidelines while they’re out saving the world.
Granted, you’re used to this lifestyle, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt. If only you’d been a shinobi or a slayer, things would be different. You’d know what the life is like, the feel of a blade as it passes through a demon’s neck. But no, you’re always stuck with carrying a pouch of wisteria on your body to keep yourself safe. At this point, you don’t whether Tengen makes you keep it because he wants you to be safe or because he views it as his obligation.
With a sigh, you turn towards the sky, the endless blue a clear difference to your bitter gray mood. The tote hanging from your shoulder is heavy with fruits and vegetables from the market, but you’re excited with the possibilities of all the tasty meals you could create. Even though you can’t fight to save others, you can feed them; you also know for a fact that you’re the best cook among you co-wives.
When you return home, you slip off your setta and pause, listening to the familiar silence. Like usual, the others are away, most likely fighting off some lowly criminal or preparing for a battle against a demon. Either way, it seems like you’re going to be spending the majority of the day by yourself. It’s sad that this is what life has come to; when you first married Tengen, you were hoping for more excitement, not lonely thoughts. You don’t want to come off desperate, though, so you continue to remain to yourself. At the end of the day, it’s not that big of a deal – that’s just life.
Wandering towards the kitchen, you become caught up in these thoughts, these negative feelings. You don’t want to make yourself cry – you really don’t – but your heart is saying otherwise. All you want is to belong. You want to mean something to this family, not be the impromptu mother waiting for her rambunctious children to come home. You become so lost in your head that you fail to see him standing in the kitchen, lips wrapped around a ceramic cup.
Coming to sudden stop at the threshold, your attention jumps back to the present. Tengen merely sends you an amused look over the rim of his cup before he knocks his head back and empties its contents. Why is he here? Shouldn’t he be with the others? He said he wasn’t going to home for a while! Did something happen? Are the others okay? Why-?
“You’ve got that dumb look on your face again,” Tengen teases. “Stop thinking so much.”
Huffing, you step into the kitchen, drawing the tote off your shoulder and setting it down. “You surprised me, that’s all. I thought you were busy.”
“What, am I not allowed in my own home? That’s kind of cruel, don’t you think?” The smirk he flashes you sends a pleasant shiver up your spine.
“I never said that,” you hastily respond. Your eyes scan over his Corps uniform. You’re quickly finding yourself feel bad for taking up his time when he’s bound to be busy; Pillars have the toughest jobs of them all, and every single moment is precious. “You’re usually never this home early,” you mutter. A sigh slips through your lips. “…I should… uh, I need to do laundry.” You despise how pathetic you sound, but the knowing look in Tengen’s eyes is making your nerves go haywire.
Stepping away, you prepare yourself to leave, but Tengen moves way too fast for your eye to catch. Before you’re out the door, his hand is around your wrist, spinning your around and tugging him towards his chest. You yelp as you collide with solid muscle; wrapping his meaty arms around you, Tengen holds you close, his nose buried in your hair.
“Don’t act like I haven’t noticed you moping around more than usual,” he mutters. Pressed to him like this, you can hear his heart thumping steadily in his chest. “It’s not flamboyant of me to ignore what’s bothering you.”
“Tengen-“
“Let me finish,” he interrupts, but his voice is soft. “I want you to be honest with me. Are you lonely?”
At that, your heart drops to your stomach. You haven’t been that obvious, have you? Jaw falling agape, you’re desperate for words, to tell him no, you’re fine, but nothing wants to come out. Tengen releases a sorrowful sigh and pulls away just enough so that you two are looking eye-to-eye. He’s always been huge, standing tall and broad; in moments like these, the sheer size of him is more than intimidating. His biceps alone could crack a watermelon.
“Idiot,” he mumbles. Your face scrunches up when he flicks your forehead. “I shouldn’t have to confront you about something like this.”
You pout up at him. “It’s just… I’m not like you guys,” you confess. “I can’t fight, I can’t defend myself… All I’m good at is being a homemaker.” You drop your gaze to his chest. Now that you’re finally getting everything off your chest, all the pent of thoughts and feelings begin to gush out. “I feel like an outsider most of the time. You and the other girls are always running around together and doing amazing things. All I do is sit around and do chores. I can’t…” Biting your lip, you squeeze your eyes shut. Now is not the time to be crying. If you want things to change, you have to remain strong, not burst into tears.
A hand cups your face, then, lifting your head so that you’re forced to look at Tengen. “Be quiet. So what if you’re not a fighter? That doesn’t make you any less flamboyant.” His thumb brushes over your cheek. “You’re the one I can rely on to be here when I need someone. You always get this dumb smile on your face whenever I come home from a mission.” Dropping his head down, he presses his forehead to yours. “I know you’re safe here… Do you have any idea how scared I would be if you were out in the field with us? You’re important to me, baby. When I’m not here, you’re on my mind constantly.”
Your heartbeat quickens. You can’t deny the genuine glint in his dazzling eyes, the slight curl to his lips.
“In fact,” Tengen continues, pulling away entirely. In a swift movement, his large hands are clutching your thighs, raising you up and swinging you around; you let out a surprised squeak as he places you on the table and presses his large body between your legs. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve always been so soft, so sweet…” His warm breath fans over your face, making you swallow thickly. “And you’re so small. I’ve got to keep someone like you under protection, don’t you think?”
Before you really have the chance to say anything, Tengen swoops in, his mouth seeking out yours. He’s always been such a bold kisser, sweeping his tongue into your mouth with no hesitation whatsoever. He tastes like wine, so rich and delectable, and his tongue is so warm, so inviting. Your head is spinning, your breaths leaving in short gasps. His hands are all over you; gripping your hair, trailing down your back, sneaking underneath your yukata-
A groan bursts from your throat as he fondles your breasts, the pads of his fingers rolling the hardened nipples and pulling them. Tengen curses as he breaks the kiss, the lightest of blushes on his face. He bites his plump lower lip as he shamelessly plays with you, his pupils blown wide. His hips press in close, his groin bumping into yours; he’s already hard, deliciously so, and your mind goes entirely blank. You want nothing more than his cock to slide in, to absolutely tear you apart.
“You feel that, baby?” Tengen husks. “Don’t think your unimportant to me. You’re so fucking sexy, so flamboyant…” His tongue darts out, sweeps over his lips. “Let me make it up to you. You won’t feel lonely anymore, got it?”
Furiously nodding your head, you allow Tengen to yank open your yukata, revealing soft skin. Your eyelids flutter as he places his mouth to the exposed flesh, his lips and tongue equally hot. Chest rising frantically beneath his touch, you grip onto him for support as he kisses your breasts, his tongue dragging across your nipples. You keen as he promptly sucks it into his mouth, his teeth sinking down lightly as his hands unceremoniously rip your underwear from your trembling form.
“Oh, gods, Tengen,” you purr. “Please… Don’t stop…”
“Wouldn’t dream about it,” Tengen drawls. Sinking to his knees, his mouth leaves a wet trail down your body; there’s bound to be marks, you’re sure of it, but you don’t care. His mouth feels way too heavenly yet sinful, the pleasured grunts pouring from his lips pure music to your ears. “Give me a taste…”
You cry out when he licks against your slit. In a fit of desperation, your fingers clutch onto the silvery strands of his hair, accidentally loosening it from its ponytail. Tengen groans into your quivering pussy as you yank at his hair, his name leaving your lips in high-pitched whimpers. Any other time, Tengen would play the part of the ultimate tease, but not now. No, he wants to please you, to have you screaming his name and begging for more.
He eats like a man starved, his mouth just ravishing your cunt; the noises coming from in between your legs is nothing short of sinful, leaves your blood boiling. Your velvety walls clench around his protruding tongue, each curl and flick sending delicious shivers up your spine, down to the tips of your fingers and toes. Tengen’s always been a god with his mouth, and it’s no wonder how he has four wives. You try not to think about the other girls too much; it’s quickly turning into a battle that you’re hopelessly losing, but then Tengen moves to suckle on your clit while his fingers replace his tongue.
A sharp cry rips its way out of your chest. It feels so good. “Ah – Tengen – fuck,” you whine. Hearing the pleasured noises from your beautiful lips spurs him on; redoubling his efforts, Tengen grabs onto your hip as his fingers push in even further, finding your soft spot with pin-point precision. You rapidly come undone around his fingers, your walls clenching around him as your slick gushes out. A breathless moan of his name echoes throughout the room.
“Just as sweet as I remember,” Tengen husks. The deep rasp of his voice has you clenching again; with a chuckle, Tengen removes his hand and stands up.
“I want you,” you coo, “please, Tengen. Fuck me.” Reaching out, you hastily undo the top of his uniform, push the articles of clothing down his shoulders under his torso is completely bare. Tengen’s chest practically rumbles with a purr as you drift your hands over the swell of his pecs, the divots of his abs. “So gorgeous,” you murmur. Tengen starts to chuckle again, but it quickly dwindles into pleasured grunts as you squeeze his pectorals and pinch at his pert nipples.
“Shit,” Tengen hisses. His hips buck forward, the hard outline of his cock brushing against your sopping cunt. In quick, fumbling movements, he undoes his belt and drops his hakama low enough so that his cock pops out. You practically drool at the sight; he’s been going around commando all day, and fuck you wish you knew that earlier.
His bulbous head pushes inside, his cock slowly filling you up. The stretch is delicious; you feel so fucking full, your velvety walls eagerly sucking him in. Clutching onto his shoulders, your fingernails dig into the thick cording of muscle, your eyes basically rolling back in your head as Tengen snaps his hips forward, his cock sliding in to the hilt. He pauses for a second, allows you to adjust to his massive size. Once you give him the go ahead, all caution is thrown to the wind.
Your husband in no longer a man, but rather a savage beast. He fucks into you thoroughly, his cock dragging against all your sensitive spots as his cockhead pounds into your cervix. He’s hitting you so deep, stretching you so wide, you’re seeing stars. His lips find your neck while his hands hold you by the ass, keeping you place. You have no choice but to cry out his name, moaning until your throat goes hoarse.
Hiking your thighs onto his hips, he urges you to lie flat on your back. Like this, he presses his palms against the surface of the table and completely concentrates and fucking you into oblivion. It’s working, rightfully so, for your drooling and babbling his name, your nails scratching down his back and leaving angry red trails.
“I’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he purrs. “Show you that you’re really mine. I love you, got it? Don’t ever think otherwise.”
Tears flood your vision – whether they’re from pleasure or the new onslaught of emotion, you don’t know. Either way, you cling onto him tighter. You’re not going anywhere, and Tengen makes sure of it.
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ramzawrites · 3 years
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can i request an angsty sbi fic where sibling reader lost two lives saving others (maybe tubbo at the festival?) and they see everything falling apart (techno and phil destroying everything, wilbur dead and tommy focused on the disks) and they pretend to be ok while their mental health gets worse and worse until they decide to end it, and people only realise they weren't okay after the death message pops up and their reactions to seeing it? if not thats completely fine, ik its pretty heavy
Broken
GN
Pairings: none
Characters included: Wilbur, Tommy, Philza, Tubbo, Technoblade
Warnings: depression, suicide (falling, non descriptive), angst
Series: a request!
Summary: Y/N just wanted their home back. They just wanted to live a peaceful life but instead all their hopes and dreams got ripped apart by the people they loved the most.
Words count: 3647
Authors Note: Honestly I could have shortened it quite a bit but here we are, it’s way longer than I wanted but I hope you guys enjoy this. I’m sorry if this went kind off of rails to what you might have envisioned. Also I hope that you guys know that you are loved and appreciated. I appreciate you for taking the time to read my stuff :] Here is m favorite video to cheer me up some times, hope it can cheer you up as well!
I’m also curious what your guys thoughts and opinion are on this or my writing in general! Can’t get better without feedback :]
Y/N loved their family.
They were all pretty chaotic but so was Y/N, following their siblings into trouble ignoring any possible consequences.
So when Wilbur proclaimed he would create an independent Nation inside the SMP that was owned by Dream himself, you bet that Y/N was standing right beside him.
When Wilbur would struggle with his tasks or was weighed down by doubts they would swoop right in and do their best to support him. Every time Wilbur would say “I don’t know what I would do without you sometimes.” While Y/N didn’t do it for praise but out of love for him it was still nice knowing that he appreciated them and that he took note of their work.
Tommy wasn’t really for heartfelt words but he too expressed in his own way how much he appreciated them being around. Most of his schemes wouldn’t have even happened without Y/N’s help after all. As a way to say thanks he would let them just take stuff fout his chets or when he heard they needed a specific resource he would wander out and get it for them. Of course saying something on the lines of “I was out there anyhow, so I brought some with me. It was on the way.” Y/N could read between the lines though. They grew up with him after all.
Y/N put so much energy into L’Manberg they couldn’t help but be in love with this little nation. They would do everything to protect their home.
When Y/N lost their first life it was together with their siblings protecting their nephew Fundy.
The Dream Team suddenly retreated after another battle against L’Manberg. While the group was celebrating what they thought was their first victory in ages, Eret appeared. She told the group of a small bunker with more resources.
Still celebrating Wilbur, Y/N, Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy made their way towards the bunker. The bunker that would later go down into history as “The Final Control Room.”
Inside they all looked at the labeled chests only to notice that they were empty. Eret then pressed a button which opened up secret walls with the Dream Team standing behind. She herself got into safety as Dream and his friends merciless attacked the L’Manberg faction.
As soon as Y/N understood what was happening they did their best to form a wall between the attackers and Fundy. Slowly pushing him out of the room while they made sure to block the exit, giving the Fox Hybrid enough time to run away.
When they woke up again it was inside their home. In L’Manberg. Sore from the respawning.
Once they did respawn though it didn’t take long for Fundy to barge into their room and throw himself against them, thanking them. Wilbur was close by, looking worse for wear as well but incredible thankful nonetheless.
After that and a few battles more Tommy challenged Dream to a duel in order to secure independence. He lost so instead he bartered his music discs for freedom.
After Tommy respawned a second time Y/N made sure to spent most of their time hovering around him. Making sure he was doing alright.
But with that L’Manberg was independent and it was Y/N’s time to shine. Sure, they worked hard on strengthening the infrastructure of the nation but now, maybe even because of that, they basically coordinated all the new builds.
Shops, homes and other things were being build with them overseeing it. Meanwhile Wilbur and Tommy took care of the political part only to come to the conclusion that they had to have a proper election.
At first it started innocently enough as well. New political parties were made that begun advertising themselves. Funny enough they would always come to Y/N asking them where they could hang up their posters. It was then that Y/N realized that the people saw them as some sort of authority, even asking them if they wanted to start their own campaign. They politely declined, saying they worked best as a support role.
Then Schlatt entered the stage and everything got thrown upside down.
In the end he managed to become the next president via a coalition and his first declaration as the president, or emperor as he called himself, was to exile Tommy and Wilbur.
As they ran for their life Y/N didn’t hesitate to follow. It hurt them so much to leave L’Manberg, their fruit and labor, behind. This only got worse once they realized that Tubbo was basically left alone back at the city under Schlatt’s rule.
Then Pogtopia got established.
Tommy, Wilbur and Y/N did their best to get a proper foothold again. Gathering resources and planning for ways to get their home back. And to accomplish this they soon called in the oldest sibling of the group, Technoblade.
Techno has been away for the longest time now. He moved out early to travel the world and apparently train himself. Somehow Tommy found a way to get a message to him, so he made his way towards Pogtopia.
He wasn’t big on words or emotions but as soon as he arrived he let Y/N hug him.
“This is a onetime deal, Y/N.”
With Techno they finally felt like they had a chance. Y/N could maybe return home someday. Back when they were children Techno always looked out for them so to have him back Y/N felt infinitely safer.
All the while Wilbur showed more and more signs that his mental health was rapidly declining. Y/N did their best trying to cheer him up but there was only so much they could do. Especially since they themself were struggling.
L’Manberg was their everything and now it was under the iron rule of Schlatt. They had to watch as Schlatt walked through the nation, ripping apart builds that they commissioned or even built themself. Every time he did something like that it felt like another stab wound directly into their heart.
Then the festival happened where Y/N lost their second life protecting Tubbo.
Schlatt wanted to apparently celebrate democracy and his amazing rule. Tommy and Wilbur weren’t allowed to join while Techno and Y/N received an invitation.
Y/N was very wary of that. They learned from Tubbo that Schlatt apparently was pretty interested in bringing them over to Manberg since a lot of the residents trusted them and saw them more as an authority than Schlatt himself, so bringing them over would probably also bring a lot of the residents around to his rule.
On the day of the festival Y/N made sure to stay close to Techno. Holding on to his arm and basically hiding behind him, not feeling up to talk with all the people in Manberg.
The people were happy to see them but Y/N was tired. They haven’t slept properly ever since the exile, too many thoughts that kept them awake.
Then the speeches started.
Honestly Y/N wasn’t really listening, their attention purely on a broken old building. It used to be the place where Y/N and the other residents would meet up and map out their plans for new builds. Discussing and even sometimes arguing on what materials should be used and where to get them. Now it was empty.
Their attention got pulled back towards what was actually happening once Tubbo begun speaking. It was a nice little speech Y/N had to admit.
Just as Tubbo was about to leave, Schlatt moved back in. Holding him in place and pushing him in something that Y/N had to describe as a cage with the help of Quackity.
“Techno, buddy. Come up here for a sec.”
Technoblade tensed up but still moved towards the stage. There Schlatt uttered the words that pulled the rug out from beneath Y/N once again.
“Kill him Techno. He is a traitor.”
“Don’t you dare!” Y/N yelled out, making their way towards the stage as well.
Y/N knew Techno couldn’t deal well with social pressure, especially when there were about ten people or more behind him that could attack him at any point.
Tubbo looked so scared as he pressed himself against the wall. There was no escape for him.
When Techno moved his crossbow up, aiming directly at Tubbo, Y/N let out another scream. Urging him to stop.
Explosions. Colorful explosions filled the place.
“Y/N!” it was Tubbo screaming their name out.
Just as Techno pressed the trigger Y/N managed to jump in front, the rockets hitting them instead of Tubbo.
Their older brother looked absolutely mortified “Y/N? Wha- What? Why? How?” staring at Y/N’s lifeless body that slowly dissolved. They were slowly respawning but seeing his siblings body was enough to send him in some sort of frenzy.
Filled with bloodlust he aimed his crossbow towards Schlatt and Quackity. Killing them with one press of the trigger only to turn around and aim his crossbow towards the people.
As this happened Tommy enderpearled over, screaming at Techno.
He helped Tubbo out of the cage who was still in a state of shock. He only saw Y/N for a second and the next they were laying on the ground in their own blood.
Y/N heard the details later after they respawned. Tommy had apparently been incredibly angry at Techno, even attacking him. Wilbur then offered that the two deal with their argument via a fistfight inside a pit.
Normally Y/N would have yelled at Wilbur for that. Would have told him that this was his dumbest idea yet but they were too shook from what had happened to them.
Technoblade always spelled safety to them but he killed them. Sure, he meant to kill Tubbo but that didn’t really make it any better. They gave him an out, they would have helped fighting off all these people so they could flee.
The next time they saw Techno they flinched every time he got too close to them and yet they still put on a smile “Never, do this again.”
Techno only nodded.
After this downward slope the momentum didn’t seem to stop for them. Wilbur dropped even more and more off. Falling victim to his paranoia. Y/N tried their best convincing him to not blow up Manberg, that they will fight to gain it back. At this point trying to gain back their L’Manberg was the only thing they could hold on to.
Though all that work was for nothing.
The war to take back L’Manberg went way differently than they all had imagined. Y/N fought with a viciousness most didn’t think they had it in them. This was the day for them to finally regain what they had wished for, for the longest time now.
Everything came to a halt once Dream surrendered. He showed them Schlatt who was sitting in the Carmavan. Drunk off his mind he yelled and screamed at people only to die of a heart attack which meant that the Pogtopia faction won.
The people begun cheering, they had their home back! They were free! Y/N was probably the loudest by far. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from their shoulders. All this hardship and they could finally return to working with the others and rebuild L’Manberg. Return it to its former glory.
Tubbo got appointed President and Y/N was happy with it. Tubbo had an eye for building and was a good person, with him they were sure they could do some amazing things.
Apparently Techno thought otherwise. Instead he pulled Soulsand out, holding onto the Wither skulls as a visible threat.
Y/N had somewhat forgiven Techno for what had happened. It was a stressful situation and they acknowledged it but seeing him there, threatening to kill all of them? That they knew they couldn’t forgive quite so easy. Especially since he made some sound points but it was their L’Manberg. The people didn’t like living under Schlatt’s rule, this wasn’t something that could be described simply as a coup. Technically he was right but only technically. There were so many things that came into play that could let you argue over that but Techno would have none of it. Yelling something about Tommy only wanting to be a hero.
When the first explosions rang Y/N thought it came from a Wither but Techno was still in the middle of putting the heads onto the structure.
When more explosions rang and the ground beneath their feet broke away, Y/N understood what had happened.
At some point Wilbur ran off and must have pressed the button. The button that set the TNT beneath the city ablaze, effectively destroying everything.
Y/N was too busy with finding hard ground again and then dealing with the Withers and Techno that they only noticed after the fighting ended, how broken the nation was now.
They had won. Why would Wilbur do this? He knew how much the nation meant to them and again, they had won, so there was no reason for blowing the place up!
And if that wasn’t enough to see how both their older brothers destroyed everything Y/N worked for, they also had to see how Philza, their father, stood next to the corpse of Wilbur. It felt like they lost everything.
They lost their trust in Technoblade.
They lost their hopes and dreams via Wilbur blowing up the freshly liberated L’Manberg.
They lost their trust in their own father who had slain his own son.
Y/N felt absolutely crushed. Family was so important to them and it was their own family that destroyed their hopes and dreams. They did everything for them and this is how they repaid them?
Once everything calmed down and Tubbo begun making plans on how to rebuild the nation, he immediately came to Y/N for help but they hesitated which worried him.
“Is everything okay? Usually you would have jumped on that offer, Y/N.”
Y/N put on a smile that didn’t seem to reach their eyes “Don’t worry Tubbo, of course I’ll help you. I’m just tired from what we have been through. I finally have time to take a breather and I think it all just crashed down on me.”
“Well if you ever need help you can talk to me.” It was an earnest offer that Y/N would never take advantage of.
Y/N mostly ignored Philza. He talked with them a few times and even explained what has happened but Y/N still made a wide berth around him. Seeing him just hammered back down the feeling of distrust and hurt. Their familial relationship took a hard hit from that point on.
With Ghostbur it was a weird situation as well. They enjoyed spending time with him but were also always incredibly sad around him. Ghostbur took notice of this and would always offer them to take some of his blue but Y/N declined every time.
“Don’t worry Ghostbur. Everything is still just fresh in my mind. I’ll be back to my old self in no time. You take care of yourself, you hear?”
“Of course Y/N! You have always looked out for me, thank you.”
L’Manberg slowly took on a proper form again but it wasn’t the L’Manberg Y/N knew. It felt to them like they were standing on top of a grave. A grave for their dreams and it was getting hard, real hard, to walk through it every day seeing places where they know specific buildings should be standing. Buildings they build on their own only to be destroyed by their brothers doing.
Then Tubbo exiled Tommy and Y/N felt conflicted. They felt obligated to stay in L’Manberg since they were the main person people came to for builds but that was their brother. Their only brother they still trusted and felt a need to protect.
Instead of following him into exile they stayed in the city. Visiting Tommy whenever they could, noticing pretty fast that he was struggling hard with his situation and for once they didn’t feel strong enough to properly support him. Y/N tried their best but once they noticed they couldn’t reach him completely they gave up a tiny bit.
It reminded them too much of Wilbur.
So while they visited him and helped them where they could, they spent more and more time alone in their home only coming out for work and other necessary things like food. Soon it was normal to see them with ever present dark circles beneath their eyes.
Before Philza disappeared to join Techno, he would stop by Y/N’s home all the time.
“Have you eaten, yet?”
“Yes, dad. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”
“I just haven’t seen you much lately and I got worried.”
“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Hey, if you go out, please, can you tell Ghostbur to stop coming around to throw Blue inside my mailbox? He won’t listen to me but perhaps he will to you.” And they would always carry the same big smile on their face accompanied by empty eyes.
The only time their happiness reached their eyes again was when Tommy returned from his exile. They crashed into their younger sibling holding him close to them and muttering apologies. He pried them off, embarrassed by all of this.
This short bout of happiness was destroyed by Doomsday. Dream, Technoblade and Philza once again made sure to set L’Manberg ablaze.
The second time Y/N’s fruits and labor got completely annihilated by their family but still they had some hopes this time. They still had Tommy on their side they could just finally build a home somewhere else and live in peace but Tommy had other ideas. He had it in his mind to get his discs back and he would do anything for it.
So while Y/N tried to ground themself with new hopes and ideas, holding onto the only constant of what was important to them, that being Tommy, Tommy ignored them. He was too busy with his own things and the worst part was that Y/N couldn’t even fault him for it.
They understood how much these discs meant to him and that this was something that had to come to an end but with this they lost another, and possibly their last, anchor point.
Yet you could still see them running around with a smile, tending to every one and trying to help out the best they could.
Then suddenly they were gone. They just disappeared one day. The few people who took note of that took some time to look around but there was no sign as to where they left. Y/N didn’t take their armor with them nor any weapons or food.
< Y/N succumbed to despair and fell of a high place>
When every ones communicators rung out with this message the SMP fell quiet.
Tommy couldn’t believe what he was reading. This didn’t make any sense. Y/N was fine! They would talk with them and everything looked fine! This must have been a cruel joke from Dream somehow, right? This couldn’t be real. Why would Dream do this? This didn’t seem to make sense.
Exactly there was no sense in Dream doing this.
While Tommy was battling with his thoughts Tubbo came running over to him. Tears streamed down his face.
“What happened? Why did this happen? Where are they?”
Tommy was visibly shaking “I- I have no idea. I don’t know. They looked fine. I’m- I’m not sure. Tubbo-“
Tubbo just slammed into him, giving him a proper hug, trying his best to help Tommy through his rising panic. He lost another sibling and by Ender that hurt.
Meanwhile in the snowy Tundra both Philza and Techno were staring at their communicators as well.
Philza was pale. So pale it almost rivaled the snow around him.
Techno had his brows furrowed. For anyone who didn’t know him well enough he looked at best displeased with this situation but Philza could see the small details that told a different story. Him sucking his breath in as he read the message, hiding his quivering lip in his cloak. He was heartbroken.
Sure the two weren’t on good speaking terms but Y/N was still his younger sibling. He still loved them.
Philza felt similar. He acknowledged that he screwed up and honored their wish to be left alone by him but he never imagined this could lead to their death. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground. Two of his children died, one directly by his hand and the other due to his inaction.
His eyes glossed over, the world became a blur and yet he continued rereading this message over and over. Y/N just lost their last life.
Philza could hear Techno walk closer to him and sat down on the ground as well.
“Y/N is-“ Philza begun but he didn’t know what he wanted to say. State the obvious to his eldest son?
“I have more fault in this than you, dad. Don’t feel guilty.” His voice was uncharacteristically weak. Wavering as he spoke. He wanted to cheer Philza up but it was a weak attempt.
“What have we done.”
Ghostbur was at first confused when he read the message. It was like he couldn’t connect the dots but it slowly dawned on him what this meant.
“Oh my.” His usual happy demeanor was suddenly gone.
He touched his face and as he put his hands back down he saw how they were smeared with blue.
“Y/N is dead?”
His usual ghost behavior seemed to break a bit. It was like through the warped version of Wilbur that was called Ghostbur for a moment the true version of him came through again. And he was hurt. Devastated.
“I think I need to find the others.” He mumbled to himself, making his way towards his family. All the while he held onto the blue wool of Friend like a lifeline. Combing through it nervously. Blue continuing to spill from his eyes.
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Text
Can I Commission Some Common Sense?
Adrien never thought a girl’s bedroom would be his downfall, yet here he was.
In front of him, Marinette led him up the stairs to his room and it took every ounce of his control not to start sweating profusely. Luckily her back was to him, or she might have had questions as to why his jaw was locked so tightly.
Hindsight was a horrible thing, as this was not a problem he’d foreseen when he’d first kissed her as Chat Noir. The idea he would be in her room as Adrien, pretending like he didn’t know every single spot where they’d made out, simply hadn’t crossed his otherwise preoccupied mind. Now he was paying for that oversight.
“I really worked hard on this one, so I can’t wait to show you!” Marinette chirped, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the doorway.
“Oh? I bet you say that to all your commissioners,” Adrien tried bantering back, despite his mouth feeling like sandpaper. She didn’t know he’d already seen it once before, the night he brought her back here after her near-drowning experience.
The night they’d confessed their love to each other.
Marinette turned around, beaming, and it was like an arrow cut straight through his heart. Squeezing his hand once, she let it go and waved her arms similarly to how a magician might reveal his final act.
“I don’t actually. Mainly because I haven’t had such a fun commission before!” she replied, poking out her tongue.
Oh god her tongue. I know that tongue. Oh my god stop thinking of the word tongue! Adrien’s head screamed at him. Images from their previous escapades flicked through his mind and he found himself wanting nothing better than to melt through the floor.
“We-eell I’m honoured,” he half-laughed, half-wheezed.
Marinette nodded approvingly as she stepped backwards towards her mannequin. A sheet covered the outfit so Adrien couldn’t see the contents below it until Marinette decided on the big reveal. “Good! You should be. I haven’t been able to take as many commissions due to how much studying and making stuff for my university has swallowed my schedule. So it was nice to let off some steam but also did you know that-”
Her foot snagged on the edge of the rug and she tumbled backwards. Without thinking, Adrien swooped in to catch her, his arm wrapped around her waist. For a moment, they both froze, and Adrien saw a flicker of a memory pass across Marinette’s eyes, the same one he shared.
Pulling herself to her feet, much more quickly than she had done when he’d been Chat Noir, Marinette slipped out of his embrace with a shy, slightly embarrassed “thanks.” She turned her back to him, the back of her neck tinged pink and she played with her green ribbons.
Adrien stared at the ground with no small degree of guilt. This wasn’t fair to her, was it? It was like he was tricking her into loving him. But how could he confess to her when Ladybug didn’t even know his identity?
He’d always thought he would tell Ladybug his identity first. She’d been the only one, at least in his mind, that had any right to ask him and vice versa.
But that was before they’d defeated Hawkmoth, before Ladybug had almost died because of his family.
He had no idea what to do now.
“Are you ready?”
The words snapped him out of his melancholy thoughts and Adrien looked up to see Marinette on the opposite side on the mannequin, fingers twisted into the fitted sheet much like they’d been twisted in her bedsheets the night when-
SHUT UP, STOP IT, STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. YOU ARE A GENTLEMAN AND YOU WILL NOT THINK ABOUT THAT RIGHT NOW, his mind began screaming at him again. He turned his gaze away from Marinette’s fingers and stared into her eyes instead. It was safer, but not by much.
“Nope!” he replied honestly, with a smile that hopefully came across as genuine rather than pained. His heart hammered in his throat.
Marinette laughed, rolling her eyes at him and completely unaware that his response was a truth with many layers of deception. Like a lasagne of lies.
I am going to hell right? Yeah. Yep. Going to hell. This is fine.
With a great flourish, Marinette pulled the sheet from the mannequin to reveal the cosplay he’d commissioned from her. She tossed the sheet to one side, stepping into a high-lunge and sticking her arms out towards the mannequin with a squeak of delight. “Here he is! Squall!”
And finally Adrien had something to preoccupy his mind other than his lover standing right next to him. Yes it was true he’d seen the outfit once before, but his thoughts and feelings had been in such a turmoil that night, he hadn’t really taken it in. Now he was free to survey it top to bottom, mouth open in awe at every intricate detail.
“Wow,” he gasped, the geek side of his brain taking the wheel,  “This is insane, Marinette! A perfect replica.”
And he wasn’t just saying that because he loved her. It really was damn good. As he’d stated, it was a perfect replica of the Final Fantasy character he wanted to cosplay. At the Gaming Club’s encouragement, he’d been convinced to go to the next Comic Con with the rest of them. They usually all decided on themes for a group cosplay. Last year the theme had been action-adventure games, this year it was JRPGs which was far more of Adrien’s wheelhouse.
“Well?” Marinette wiggled, a pleased grin on her face at his reaction, and Adrien wanted nothing more than to kiss her right then. “Don’t you want to try it on?”
“OH HECK YEAH!” he cried excitedly, a sudden outburst for his civilian self. Stepping back with a sheepish look, Adrien scratched the back of his head. “Sorry. But yeah, I would love to try it on.”
Marinette blinked at him. Some emotion flitted across her face, but it was gone before Adrien could recognise it. Turning her back to him, she began to undress the mannequin and put the clothes gently to one side.
So that he didn’t completely lose himself in the idea of her fingers undressing him, or worse become jealous of a freaking mannequin, Adrien turned to stare at her room instead. On the wall above her desk was a board full to the brim with photos. Old school friends, a very young looking Marinette with her arms wrapped around with a puppy-faced Alya, a much scrawnier Nino in an oversized shirt playing what was probably his first deck, and a bunch of other faces he didn’t recognise.
It warmed him to see images of her growing up in a loving, supportive environment. A part of him wished he’d been there, had been her age, gone to her school, made friends with all of those happy faces instead of spending so many years alone. Would all the people in her class photo have liked him? He didn’t know. But it was the missed opportunities that hurt him the most. At the Gaming Club, when people would talk about their school days with laughter, Adrien remained silent.
A shift in the air, and Marinette was standing beside him looking at the photos too.
“You ok?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Adrien half-shook himself out of his reverie. “Oh yeah, I was just thinking about what it would’ve been like if I went to school. I mean, I totally get why I was homeschooled now, what with everything that happened to my mother. But I still feel like I missed out on a lot.”
A warm weight settled against his arm. Marinette pressed a hand against him in comfort. Her touch was a sliver of moonlight touching a cold, dark forest. Without thinking, he reached up and gave her hand a squeeze, feeling reassurance.
“I try not to think about it too much or I get sad,” he sighed.
“I think it’s ok to think about stuff that upset you, or hurt you in the past, without trivialising it,” Marinette replied. “It’s also ok to talk about it too. I know I sometimes feel bad about my missed opportunities. I had… a lot of responsibilities growing up. Some were thrust upon me, others I chose for myself, but it left me with not a lot of free time. Occasionally I wonder what it would have been like if I’d let myself be a bit freer. We all have regrets.”
There was something missing between her words, some unspoken secrets lingering in the gaps. Like lemon juice poured on a secret message, but the invisible ink had yet to reveal itself. Yet, no matter how curious he was, Adrien wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t seek out the secrets himself. He got the feeling that that was the extent of what she wanted to say and he was honoured enough that she’d trusted him with a little piece of her past not just Chat Noir.
“The good memories are easier to talk about though, right?” he said and Marinette nodded in agreement.
Adrien gave her a warm smile. Returning the gesture, Marinette gently slipped her hand away from his arm and he found himself missing the comforting weight of it instantly. She picked up his commissioned outfit and held it out to him, placing it into his arms with such care that she might as well have been placing a baby into his arms.
“Try it on!” she cried out excitedly, changing the ever-so-slightly sombre mood from before to one of excitement. “I’ll be downstairs making some snacks, come down when it’s on and we can see if it fits properly!”
It was hard not to get caught up in her excitement, so Adrien didn’t fight it. “Sure thing!” he chirped and, placing the outfit onto a chair, Adrien began to unbutton his shirt on instinct. It was only when Marinette’s eyes widened that he halted, mortified. “Sorry, sorry! Model habits! I’m just used to getting changed in front of fitters and stuff.”
“Oh, yeah, no, it’s totally fine,” Marinette replied, already in the process of leaving. “Will just get the shirt- I mean- snacks. See you in a bit!”
She left, or rather fled, the scene, nearly impaling herself on the doorknob as she did so.
Adrien ran a hand down his reddening face, wishing he had any sense of self preservation, and that his brain didn’t turn into a puddle of mush around her for once. His only boon was the fact that Plagg was currently napping in his bag, else he’d never hear the end of it.
Just try and forget that ever happened. EVER, he thought as he changed from Adrien’s civilian clothes and into the Squall cosplay he’d commissioned.
Every inch of it felt like it was crafted with finesse, with a care Adrien didn’t really feel as much. Yes the quality of the fabric wasn’t the best he’d ever felt, but that didn’t matter to him. If he’d wanted a commission made from the purest real leather, or actual fur, he’d have commissioned the litany of designers at his fathers company. They would have spared no expense for the son of Gabriel Agreste.
But Adrien hadn’t wanted that. He was just lucky enough that Marinette had had the time to complete the commission for him.
He wanted something he could feel proud to stand in. This was something his friend had made for him. He’d never had such a luxury before. And yes, as Chat Noir, she was something other than a friend, more like a lover.
No matter what though, Marinette had always been his friend first. Now he was wearing something she made for him. That meant more to Adrien than any world-famous designer or wealthy costumers clothes ever would. Standing there, in the childhood bedroom of a baker's daughter, wearing the clothes she alone (no teams, no assistants, just her) had researched, resourced and made, Adrien had never felt so rich.
Eventually he stopped standing at the mirror, ogling at how amazing the cosplay looked, and decided to go and show Marinette her handiwork.
She was in the middle of pouring apple juice into a glass when he traipsed downstairs. Glancing up, her jaw dropped. “Woah! Monsieur Agreste! That outfit really suits you!”
The apple juice overflowed, spilled onto the counter and then off the edge. Marinette jumped back with a squeak and hurried to mop it up, her face flushed with embarrassment.
“Well it’s all you!” Adrien encouraged, “the fit is absolutely spot on.”
Marinette spluttered an awkward thanks at the turn of phrase and Adrien couldn’t help but be endeared. Surely she was used to getting compliments by now?
Once she’d recovered from the apple-juice spill and the apparent shock of Adrien’s compliment, Marinette approached her handiwork. Her eyes narrowed in a scrutinising way as she searched for any errors in her work.
“Does it feel ok though? Can you move your shoulders and arms up and down freely?” she asked.
“Feels like I’m moving through a cloud!” Adrien replied, demonstrating by rolling his shoulders back one at a time. As he did, Marinette zoned in on the place just above his left shoulder.
“Aha! I knew I’d missed something! Come with me.” Without thinking, she grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs. Adrien barely had time to panic about the contact before they were back in her room.
“Can you sit for me? This shouldn’t take too long to do and it’ll be easier to do it on you rather than the mannequin, but you’re kind of tall you know?” she chuckled gesturing to her chaise whilst she rooted around for her hand sewing equipment.
Adrien obeyed her commands, once again trying to ignore the fact that he had made out with Marinette in the very place he was currently sitting. She’d been straddling his lap and- if you start thinking down this path you are going to die so STOP.
Gathering some white thread in a needle, Marinette approached the faux fur on his shoulder. “I was going to just finish securing this side of the fur. It’s fully attached to the jacket, but I didn’t want it flapping about too much so I thought I’d hand sew the last bit. I’ve done one side but I… something came up and now it looks a tiny bit uneven.”
“Right, of course,” Adrien replied, thinking about the reason why she’d been distracted. In a way, he was glad she wasn’t telling him why. Ladybug and Chat Noir liked to keep the news of the wayward akumas out of the way of the public and only got the police involved if the akuma was particularly dangerous. The general public tended to panic about wayward akumas, often thinking that Hawkmoth had come back to wreak havoc a second time.
Although, in the turmoil of the night where Marinette had to deal with the latest wayward akuma, the night she and Chat Noir had confessed their love, he hadn’t had time to discuss discretion with her. He was glad that Marinette was on the same page as he and Ladybug were. Either that or Ladybug had told her to keep it quiet before she’d had to leave town and have Chat Noir step in to help Marinette. They did know each other, though the extent of that acquaintanceship, Adrien wasn’t sure.
He was interrupted from his musings when Marinette’s chest almost hit him in the face.
It was a strange thing, to have two impulses so at war with each other that they completely cancel the other one out. On the one hand, Adrien’s impulse was to throw himself backwards, away from her chest and probably head-over-heels off the chaise.
The other impulse was a lot more damning, and involved moving forwards.
Neither option was good, so Adrien sat there, frozen, his eyes glazed over, his lips pressed together and his fingers digging so hard into the underside of the chaise that he was sure he could hear the fabric ripping.
Then, blessedly, Marinette shifted and her chest was no longer in front of him. She was so into her work that she hadn’t noticed his suffering, which Adrien was hugely grateful for.
“I’m almost done,” she said, shifting the collar. Her fingers brushed against his neck and Adrien let out a tiny, involuntary whine.
“S-sorry,” he stammered, trying to keep still and calm himself down, “ticklish.”
“Oh!” Marinette giggled, before dropping her voice teasingly as she continued her work.  “Well don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
You are KILLING ME HERE, Princess.
Although Marinette was true to her word, and it really only took a few minutes for her to finish, hours went past for Adrien. When she finally cut the last bit of thread and turned away from him with a happy “There, all done!” Adrien felt himself almost collapse forwards with relief. “Ok, now let’s get a good look!”
Adrien stood on admittedly shaking legs and went back to the mirror. Once again he distracted himself with how amazing the commission had turned out. “This is absolutely incredible, Marinette,” he said sincerely. “You have a real gift.”
“Ah well,” she shrugged, but looked pleased with his praise. She flexed her bicep. “Genius is 1% talent, 99% work after all.”
“Not sure I’d agree with those statistics,” Adrien replied, spinning away from his mirror. “Would have to conduct a proper and fair test first.”
“Ok Monsieur Space Science,” Marinette rolled her eyes and approached him, bopping him on the nose. Adrien loved moments like this, rare that they were, where he could simply relax around her, tease her as his civilian self and have her respond in kind. The good kind of butterflies fluttered through his stomach.
“Shall we take some photos? I feel like an outfit this good has to be shared with the world, right?” Adrien asked, twisting into a few practice model poses and exaggerating them enough to make her laugh. He beamed.
“Maybe, but we shouldn’t share them right now I don’t think,” she said walking back towards her desk and leaning against it. “Your face and social media comes with a lot of clout. If we post stuff online, I’ll get a lot of attention which I don’t really want at the moment, especially with my studies. But once the convention arrives, all my studies should have died down and I’ll be able to handle the inevitable flood of people to my socials. Also I don’t want you to think any of us are taking advantage of you because of your social media following. You know that’s not why I took your commission...right?”
“Of course I do!” Adrien reassured. “You haven’t got an underhanded bone in your body.”
A shadow crossed over Marinette’s face but she turned to look at her wall of photographs and Adrien couldn’t analyse it further. When she next spoke, however, her tone gave no indication there was a problem, so maybe Adrien had imagined it?
“Ok so no socials now but I could put it on my wall! I just realised I don’t have any pictures of you up there yet! We have to fix that!”
Grabbing her phone, Marinette flipped it to selfie mode and stood beside Adrien. “Ready?”
Adrien stood by her side, angling himself to get as much of her outfit in the shot as possible. Due to their height difference, he crouched a tiny amount so he could fit more into frame (but subtly enough as to not potentially offend her). His heart was glowing.
Yes, it was true, his civilian self was restricted. He couldn’t hold her, kiss her, touch her and flirt with her the way he could when he was Chat Noir.
But he was still going up on her wall of photos, and that was enough for now.
“Ready,” he confirmed, mirroring her peace sign.
The camera went off, and Adrien smiled.
---
Day 8 of @adrinetteapril is commissions! So I thought I’d write a WDDM short! Hope you like it :3
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selfawarejester · 3 years
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Hey can u please do a teen wolf imagine set in season 2 where she is either Scott or stiles sister and she is sneaking around with isaac (they kinda had a thing before he got the bite and after isaac got more confident so he made a move)and isaac sneaks into her room at night and instead of Allison it’s is y/n that Matt was stalking and taking pictures of and obsessed with and he had pictures of her and isaac kissing and stuff and maybe he leaves the pictures in her locker and it freaks her out and you decide the rest. (Sorry it’s a bit dark)
Oh, I love me some Isaac!!! Forgive me if I get some details wrong, it’s been a while since I saw s2. And I’m gonna make you Scotty boi’s sister, because Melissa 🥰
You weren’t the dating type, much to the relief of your mother and your brother - and for some reason, Stiles, but you preferred to pretend that you didn’t know that. - which is why it was such a shock when you drag Isaac Lahey of all people to sit with them during lunch one day.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N-“ Isaac tires to say, shooting the boys a wary look, but you just shush him and shove him into a seat. You brightly grin at the shocked faces Scott and Stiles before confessing that you’d been dating Isaac for a while now.
Scott freezes for a full thirty seconds.
Stiles chokes on his hashbrowns, and almost dies in that same time period.
“Da- you’re dating him?” He splutters, pointing at a smirking Isaac. “You’re dating him? Oh my god, what the- Scott, say something.”
Stiles gives you a look that says ‘you’re gonna get it now’ which slowly slides off when Scott just keeps quiet, staring at you with wide eyes.
“Wha- Scott, say something.” He grits out, and you roll your eyes, tired of their dramatics.
“All right, enough! Seriously, people are staring.”
That gets Scott moving again, as he looks around to find that people are, indeed, staring. He’s still shocked because when did you start dating?? But now he’s asking questions like when did you two start dating? Why did you keep it a secret so long?
He always knew you kind of had a thing for him: all the flirty banter, and the lovelorn glances…
You and Isaac started up two months ago, you explain, but it’s been pretty low-key so that he can hide it from his dad. (You don’t outwardly say this, exchanging a specific look, but both you and Scott have been pretty sure something was going very wrong in the Lahey household — Scott had smelt blood and fear wafting off of Isaac way too often for it not to be.) So he kinda just?? Accepts it??
He’s concerned, duh, but you’re so happy and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. But he sternly tells Isaac he’ll kick his ass if he hurts you. Isaac, to his credit, stifles his laughter and genuinely tells him that he’d rather die than hurt you; and that’s good enough for Scotty.
Of course, all of this changes when Isaac becomes a beta.
He does it for you. He wants to be able to protect you, to love you without fear of losing you or getting you in trouble. Derek’s assured him that your protection is a priority of the pack, because even in his slightly power-greedy Alpha state, Derek wouldn’t let what happened to him and Paige happen to his beta.
Stiles and Scott hover around you throughout the whole time Isaac is suspected of murdering his father. Sheriff Stilinski tried to kick them out during your questioning, but they squeezed onto the small couch in his office and just stared at him the whole time. You were shocked and scared and obviously didn’t know anything, so he sent you home pretty quick.
Melissa’s freaked out because 1) you lied to her?? 2) you’re dating now 3) and it’s a boy suspected of murder. So, yeah, maybe she’s questioning her parenting a bit, but she’s really trying to be supportive.
Scott corners Isaac at school (Stiles is there too, naturally) after the whole ice rink thing, without Erica or Derek, and he swears he’d never hurt you. Unfortunately, you walk in right at that moment.
You know when both of them are lying, so you force the truth of them, then and there. You get thrown off guard, of course — they thought you’d react like Stiles, or just like most of the people in those movies react: with a lot of surprise but general and immediate acceptance.
You do immediately do something: leave and avoid both of them for the next couple of days. Your mom’s curious as to why you’re so distant, and why Scott keeps begging you to talk to him, and why you’re avoiding him -- but ultimately, she lets sleeping dogs lie, because she hopes you’ll come to her with something really important.
You hang out with Lydia and Allison a lot more, Allison backing up for Scott by keeping you safe — she tries to defend him for you, but you make it clear you need a lot of time before you can think about that stuff. She also tries to turn you against Isaac, but you’re even more closed off to that.
Lydia is a fresh breath of air, because she is just as confused about this (even if it’s only possibilities and vague stuff) and she doesn’t wanna know more either. She keeps things light between you and Allison, and keeps your mind off of things. But it doesn’t work when Allison and the others drag you guys to your house for a weird “study session” that gets crashed by a giant lizard thing- god, this was your life now.
Isaac grabbed you, and locked you in a bathroom before the whole thing really started. You scream at him to stop, scream for Scott, and beat on his chest, but he just screws his eyes shut and forces you in there — he knows you’ll hate him afterwards, but he also knows you might run straight at the Kanima if it came for him or Scott.
You do hate him afterwards. A little part of you understands why he did it, and it’s unfortunately the same part that still loves him. But you’re still hugely pissed off, especially after Scott and Stiles tell you that he tried to kill Lydia. So the next day, when he tries to talk to you at school, you glare at him until he goes away.
In swoops Matt, all “charming” smiles and “funny” jokes. He sees his chance: months of watching you and Isaac be all cutesy had paid off. He knew what kind of humor you liked — unfortunately, all it did was remind you of your boyfriend and keep you guys at a distance.
God, he hated it. Bad enough that someone was keeping you from him, but that it was Lahey. The brother of the guy that drowned him, the son of the guy that screamed in his face about how it was his fault- no. He had to break you up.
So he consolidated all the pictures that he’d taken of you: candids of you at school, at home, at the coffee place you liked. He slips them into your locker, and watches you squirm and look around. It’s working. Then, it’s those pictures of you and Isaac, kissing at your secret spot, necking in your bedroom, smiling at each other — labels it “Remember the good times?”
You’re trying to talk about it to Scott, Allison and Stiles, but they’re busy with the Kanima. Lydia tries to help, but she’s so out of it and she has been for a while and you’re starting to get worried.
It gets to a point where you run to Isaac, tears in your eyes, and photographs in your hands. “Is this you?” You sob, and he just pulls you into his arms shushing you - “No! No, babe, I’d never do that!” - and promises to keep you safe. You stay glued to his side after that. Boyd is nice and calm, a contrast to Derek who creeps you out a little.
Through his first full moon, you stay with him and keep him grounded. Your voice keeps his father’s out of his head, keeps him in control.
You’re standing off in a corner, watching with a smirk as Erica - who you’ve gotten weirdly close to in the past few weeks - and Isaac double team Jackson (it’s actually… kinda hot? Especially because damn Isaac keeps looking at you); but your view gets obstructed by Matt. He’s trying to talk to you but you barely listen, keeping eye contact with Isaac over his shoulder. Then they leave with Jackson, and Matt makes a move on you. You flinch away so hard, you hit the counter and get the bartender’s attention.
You confront him about the pictures and he splutters for an excuse. The bartender kicks out Matt, seeing your distress, who’s now more desperate for your attention than ever.
Matt - or the Kanima- kidnaps you during Lydia’s party and keeps you in his basement. You’re scared out of your mind, begging for him to let you go, but he promises you that there won’t be anyone in your ways from now on. While everyone’s dealing with the fiasco at the police station, Isaac, Boyd and Erica come get you.
He’s trying not to cry when he sees your busted lip, the bruises around your wrists where you were tied down.
Boyd and Erica decided to leave, but Isaac didn’t want to leave you behind. So he goes to Scott and Deaton, and becomes a good guy, helps out with Jackson and everything!
He also starts living with you guys, which you’re very excited about ;) But Melissa is very careful about leaving you two alone. And Scott’s stupid senses screw you over in that he interrupts every time you get to more than kissing.
But you find ways. 😉😏😏
Hope you liked it! I think I changed a few things, and I tried to keep the canon timelines for everything, but yeah!
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riridontneedya · 2 years
Text
IMPERIUM✨
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Any house Reader, Harry Potter x
Wordcount: 4,210
Warnings: SMUT, ANGST dom ,sub, daddy ,oral, teasing ,praise, spitting , chocking etc run of the mill smut.
A/N : Well the time has come I've finally given in.. I say finally didn't take much conviction lol. Anyway in this universe Dumbledore is still very much alive and no-one tried to kill one another so all is well. As always enjoy and let me know what you think xx
Summary: Draco and y/n battle it out for the new position as headmaster but what happens when they are made to work alongside one another
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“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention please” spoke Dumbledore. He arose from his chair gently tapping his knife against his chalice in order to garner the crowds attention . Shortly everyones eyes were fixated on him. He cleared his throat and began. “I would like to thank each and everyone one of you for coming out tonight … as we all know its been a tough decision for me to step down, however! .I have no fear as I know the school will be in the safest of hands. I hand picked these two myself and in-fact trust them with my life. I know they have been working tirelessly day in and out to ensure not only my trust .. but all members of committee and most importantly our students. So with that being said when it is revealed in tomorrows assembly who the new headmaster and deputy are I want you both to know ,no matter the outcome I am so proud of you both, so let us raise a toast to our candidates . Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N and Draco Lucius Malfoy”. With that Dumbledore rose his chalice high in the air smiling warmly at the pair. Everybody followed suit and raised their glasses high in celebration.
Draco and Y/N graciously thanked everyone as they showered them with words of praise and encouragement . Just then Y/n went to speak however her words were abruptly cut short by Astoria. As if an eager child unable to contain her excitement she blurted out. “ Draco and I are so grateful for all the support, so as a thank you after this we will be having refreshments and canapés at the Malfoy manor to celebrate his new position as headmaster .. all are welcome to join”. ‘Headmaster .. oh my how incredibly presumptuous” Y/N chuckled into her drink. “Excuse me” squeaked Astoria, she spun around rapidly locking eyes with Y/n. Y/n folded her arms across her chest and began “I do believe you heard me Astoria .. you said headmaster and thats yet to be revealed so for you to address Draco as said headmaster is well.. presumptuous”. Astorias tongue prodded the inside of her cheek, you could tell by the hue of red in her face she was infuriated but trying to find the words without imploding.
“Well , I just know he will ok so yeah just know that”, spat Astoria in a feeble attempt to shake off Y/ns rightful observation’. ‘Oh I see” snapped y/n “why didn't you say it was you sooner, Sybil , Sybil Trelawney teacher of divination . What are you doing here under the guise of Polyjuice potion? I mean you could’ve just come with your crystal ball and tea leaves and said he was the winner that way instead of this elaborate scheme don’t you think?” The laughter of fellow by standers suddenly erupted around the women. Astoria who now sup parsed hues of red was the shade of a beetroot , completely enraged prepared to snap she was interrupted by Dumbledore. “ NOW now girls quell your fiery natures, this is to be a peaceful night of celebrations”. The woman smiled coyly at Dumbledore. ‘My apologies Dumbledore” y/n chimed up. “We speak no more of it ok” Dumbledore smiled and gently patted the crown of y/ns head and proceeded to make his way back to his chair. Y/N turned and smiled gloatingly at Astoria. In response Astoria screwed her face up mockingly and fled no doubt to chastise Draco for not swooping in and defending her.
“Pwoarh Nice one mate” chuckled Fred as he held out his fist waiting for Y/n to bump it. Hahah stop it you she giggled. ‘Here , should we go to the manor after this for a laugh” sniggered George appearing alongside them. “Ha, I'm sure she’s revoked my invitation effective immediately” said Y/n, as she peered over to Astoria , she could see her flailing her arms around whilst Draco made no attempt to conceal his look of boredom in the conversation. “You know what lets .. Ive been dying to get a peek of the manor anyway what harm can it do”. ‘Cracking’ the twins harmonised in unison. The trio linked arms and jollied along.
Once arrived at the manor they soon found it to be every bit luxurious as they envisioned. The floors were marble and reflected the light of the enormous crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Each stair of the grand staircase was illuminated by candle light creating an auburn strip propelling up the length of the stairs. Every inch of the manor oozed with decadence. “Wow , its rather impressive” mused y/n . “You can say that again” chimed Fred as he helped himself to a glass of champagne , handing one over to y/n. They began to mingle and drink with the rest of the party guests it was an overall pleasant evening that was until Astoria appeared before Y/n. “Glad to see you could make it y/n” said Astoria with a constipated smile. She had made little to no effort to conceal her sarcastic tone.
Y/n had no interest in rehashing todays mini confrontation. Instead she pulled a sickly sweet smile and said “ Wouldn’t miss it for the world, thank you for your generous hospitality Ms Green grass.” Astorias face dropped “green green .. she muttered, haha don’t be silly you must get use to calling me Mrs Malfoy”. Now despite y/ns fondness to antagonise Astoria at any given opportunity she couldn’t help but see she was visibly hurt. She immediately began to fumble her words in a bid to preserve her feelings “honestly , Astoria I'm sorry I didn't know the extent of your relationship .. I apologise”. Astoria still hadn’t reacted she stood stationary bottom lip protruding sad and helpless like a lost puppy. Y/n gently squeezed Astorias forearm and began to say “ look you mustn't pay it any mind, Draco wouldn’t dare indulge in any small talk with me about family life .. so don’t stress it congratulations by the way”. Astoria looked up at her with eyes softened . Relief washed over Y/n as she could tell she was receptive to her. Y/n couldn’t help but wonder to herself why he hadn’t mentioned news as big as that , they had worked so closely over these months . To be fair on a good day if you hadn’t known Draco you wouldn’t even know he had a girlfriend let alone fiancé .. or wife ?
Astoria went to talk but just then none other than Draco emerged behind her . His hand came down onto her shoulder. sharply. “ thats enough now sweetheart , I think Daphne was looking for you actually”. There was a weird exchange of eye contact Astoria weakly smiled and left. It was now just y/n and Draco stood before one another. Draco broke the silence by clearing his throat “ Y/L/N, may I interest you in a nightcap in my office ,there are things Id appreciate to discuss before we venture into our new working relationship”. Although slightly bewildered she agreed as after all they were to work alongside one another and she’d rather it be somewhat harmonious than turbulent.
Y/n followed Draco across the length of the great hall and into a pair of grand double doors. The room was vast , books littered the walls as far as the eye could see and in the corner a fireplace roared. Draco stood behind his desk and motioned for y/n to take a seat opposite him. She smoothed the back of her dress and proceeded to make herself comfortable. Draco started pouring whiskey from the crystal decanter into a couple of whiskey tumblers. The burn of the fire whisky ignited as it glided down her throat. The combination of whiskey and champagne left Y/N beginning to feel somewhat merry, she hadn’t really noticed during the quiet sobering conversation with Astoria. ‘So what is it you have in mind Draco?”. His stormy grey eyes peered over at her from behind his glass. ‘Very well” he remarked and manoeuvred himself to Y/NS side of the desk .He perched himself on the edge legs akimbo and both his large veiny hands clasped around his whiskey glass. Y/n inhaled sharply as she averted her gaze from his legs splayed before her. Continuing he said “ As you're aware I have my plans about how Hogwarts should be run , I have a detailed strategy and I plan to implement it as soon as possible .. so what I'm really asking is are you with me or against me because I have no intention of being held back”.
Y/n blinked rapidly .. she was unable to process what he was saying , how could he be so smug thinking he had headmaster place secured already. “ Fuck sake Draco, ok first that wasn’t really posed as an option now was it ?, also enough with belief that its your divine right to just be appointed as headmaster! What makes you think that if you somehow are the headmaster I will just bend at your will? Pathetic!” She scoffed into her drink. Draco began to stifle a laugh “ Ah you do amuse me y/n”, look I'm willing to let you have some creative control … only if you prove to me how badly you so desire it”. His suggestive smile sent shivers up y/n. “Fuck you Malfoy” she hissed and jolted from her seat, once she reached the door she rattled the doorknob but to no avail the door wouldn’t budge. “Open it now” she demanded . Draco slowly sauntered towards her and leant across the door “hmm I thought you liked a challenge .. guess I was wrong this will be no fun after all ” Draco was indeed correct Y/n did enjoy a challenge and he’d be gravely mistaken if he thought she would let him get away without putting up a fight”.
Something switched in Y/n she turned to face Draco who was only inches away. He towered over her with his svelte frame encased in an all black suit. ‘Is this what you want Draco hmm” she said in a sultry tone whilst hooking her finger into his belt loop pulling him closer. You want me to beg ..or would you rather me on my knees .. better yet I could be a good girl and just bend over that desk right now and let you have your way if thats what you want” . Draco's breathing was now laboured within seconds he had pulled y/n in by the waist flipped her round having her pressed against the door, his body weight up against her and his hand holding her arms in place on the door. Y/n could feel the stiffness of his impressive length against her derrière. With a shallow gasp he breathed dangerously close to her ear “ be careful what you wish for ms Y/L/N , I don’t take too kindly to false promises as I always get what I want” . With that he tossed her around to face him .Y/n was now panting her body was burning in desire she wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees there and then. No wonder Astoria was attached to his hip.. if this was anything to go off.
Y/n bit her lip she felt dizzy with emotions . Draco stood before her with a devious smile , his hands soon intertwining at her waist and face buried in her décolleté littering it with kisses making his way down to her ample bosom. Y/n couldn’t help but throw her head back in delight eliciting a small moan. That only became fuel for Draco as he hoisted her leg from the floor and wrapped it around him. It was then Y/n felt a vibration from the opposite side of the door., as if someone had knocked from the outside . It was then followed by a mousy ‘ Dray , are you in there’. Draco paused for a moment grip still tight on y/n. “What is it I'm having a business meeting , i'll be out shortly don’t hover ”. It was clear who it was… the pair unraveled themselves from one another quickly smoothing out clothing and rejigging themselves. ‘Ok let us” let me stop you Draco, Y/n interrupted pressing her finger against his lips to audibly shush him. “ As if you think id let this happen you think you get to fuck me then you do as you please and I a dutiful little lap dog . Pfffft what a joke like it or not I'm going to be your boss so the only way I'm fucking you is in the more figurative sense , now you better hurry up don’t want to keep your fiancé waiting or Is it wife hmmm”. With a quick flick from her wand she sent the door swinging open and promptly stormed out.
The day had finally arrived the great hall of Hogwarts was alive with the buzz of chatter. The sizeable table at the forefront of the hall hosted all the teachers and most importantly both Draco and y/n. Dumbledore made his way to the podium, he produced his wand and placed it at the base of his neck it acted as a megaphone propelling his voice across the hall. “Everybody if I may have your attention please.” The chatter soon died down and everyone eagerly cast their eyes on him. “ Right, I shan’t keep you in suspense anymore , it is time to announce your new headmaster & deputy ’. Both Draco and y/n fidgeted in their seats after all these months of rivalry it had boiled down to this. “ Ladies and gentlemen, introducing Ms y/n y/l/n your new headmaster !” Boomed Dumbledore. .Y/N shrieked she was giddy with excitement she couldn’t believe she had actually done it. Everyone around her broke out into wild applause there were whistles and jeers laughter overall excitement. She was being ushered by the surrounding teachers to get up to the podium to make a speech. As she was making her way she cast eyes on Draco, there he stood paler than usual and unresponsive he was there physically but not mentally his carcass stood stationary unable to ingest the news he had just been fed.
The days rolled into weeks weeks rolled into months and y/n had almost completed a whole term at Hogwarts. All was going swimmingly and albeit begrudgingly Draco was in-fact a great support on her journey. It was the last night of term and y/n sat a her desk pondering over a mountain of papers. Y/n sighed and cradled her head in her hands , she was exhausted she spent all her time dedicated to the role that she forgot to take time out for herself. There was a knock at the door “Come in” she yelled out. Draco's head emerged around the door. ‘
Oh hey you , come in come in” ushering him to the desk. ‘Oh dear , sucks to be you , regretting the position of power now?” Draco chuckled menacingly. “Ha ha very funny” she uttered dryly. “Anyway , some of the other teachers are going out for drinks but I can see you are busy” said Draco eyeballing the mountains of paper. “Yeah.. I afraid I am , but you enjoy yourself Draco have a drink for me and i'll see you next term” she smiled warmly at him. Draco locked eyes on her , hands stuffed in his pocket he began to fidget. “In all honesty I'm not the fondest of all the people going .. also Id much rather not be at home ..before you laugh or probe why just don’t because I won’t go into it but I can’t bare to spend another moment longer with …her .. so umm yeah , I can help you out here then say you make it up to me buying me a drink later?”
Y/n smirked “You’re quite then enigma aren’t you Draco ..? He raised his eyebrows at her in acknowledgement. “Fine , id appreciate that very much but I am rather tired so if it's not beneath you I can offer you a drink at mine ..”. His eyes flickered up to meet hers , stifling a smile . “Id like that ..”he said softly , ‘well then , let's get to work” y/n smiled. Draco and y/n worked through the night it was filled with chatter and laughter they felt at ease with one another. Once they finished up the momentum continued on at y/ns house. Copious amounts of fire whiskey later they found themselves delving into deeper topics having more in-depth conversations and discovering more about one another. Draco's whole demeanour was very relaxed and this was foreign to y/n. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and tie loosened. ‘You know .. you're an alright person not that much of a pain in my arse surprisingly” Draco chuckled swigging another mouthful of whiskey. “Well thats rich” laughed y/n.
“Right well I've really enjoyed this but its getting late , I can barley keep my eyes open … earlier you mentioned you didn't want to go back so .. you're more than welcome to stay …. Only if you want”. Rattled by the kind gesture he smiled affectionately. Stumbling over his words “umm yeah , thank you y/n you’ve exceeded your generosity let me at least grab us coffee for the morning then. “Sounds like a plan , hopefully you won’t find me a pain in the arse again come morning ”. With a cackle Y/n got up from the couch and showed Draco to the spare room. Once at the door she began to wish him a goodnight. As he went to hug y/n his lips grazed her cheek. Y/n suddenly recoiled , a silence loomed over them as they gazed at one another the emotions of that night in Draco's office flooding back. Y/n could feel the heat surging in her cheeks so she hastily wished him a good night and scurried to her room. Once in the shelter of her room she let out a sigh of relief. She knew it was the right thing to do but my how she craved him.
Draco burst through the door making a beeline for Y/N. He took her into his arms and kissed her with an insatiable hunger. Backing her into the wall he began to rid her of her clothing . Y/n hands clambered at his chest to do same however he abruptly stopped her “ Oh no you don’t , you think I forgot about that little stint in my office huh ? Well I didn't and I've been awaiting the day I get to fuck you senseless Ms y/n … you control me all day and now its y turn to control you .. you will do everything I say do you understand” . Enthralled by his dominance Y/n nodded enthusiastically. “Sorry I didn't hear you “ roared Draco grabbing her face towards his. “Yes who”. “Yes Draco” she moaned . “You can do better than that dear yes who, i'll only ask you one more time or i'll have bent over my knee.. so what will it be?” . “Yes … daddy “ she muttered bashfully. “Thats my girl” he bellowed. He grabbed her and thrust her onto the bed , he unfastened his tie and instructed her to lift her hands above her head. Y/n did as commanded. He bound her wrists up and hooped them over the bed post. “Now, I'm going to have my way with you and you don’t get to touch me understood!” ‘Yes daddy y/n whimpered” “ahh what a good girl you are, ugh the things I'm going to do to you”. Y/ns eyes winded in desire, Draco shimmied y/ns shirt up and instructed her to bite down using it as a makeshift gag. He suddenly began to kiss her lower abdomen slowly sliding off her trousers.
Y/n titled her hips aiding him in taking them off. Draco's eyes lit up upon the discovery of her not wearing any undergarments “oh so you were anticipating me you filthy slut” Draco chuckled darkly’. He teased and taunted kissing her inner thighs only grazing her sex, this drove y/n crazy her body craved him inside her. Draco finally delicately licked a strip against her folds causing her body to crumble at the slightest of his touch. His warm moist tongue began frantically massaging her causing her to rive in ecstasy . His tongue began to vibrate excitedly against her clitoris sending shock waves through her entire body , she bucked her hips in excitement unable to keep her composure as Draco's tongue fixated on lapping up the one spot that drove her insane. Y/n was close he was relentless with his tongue against her swollen bud , just as she was about to finish Draco withdrew. Y/ns face fell in disgust just as she was about complain he plunged his fingers deep inside her ..pumping rhythmically y/ns juices coated his fingers . His other hand sloped around her neck , eventually this caused her to release all over his hand. Draco's pupils now engulfed his eyes …he was enthralled in pleasure watching her crumble for him . “ Aren’t you a good girl , snarled Draco “squirting for daddy , whilst I love it I don’t recall giving you permission to” .y/n squirmed overcome with pleasure unable to respond.
He unhooked her and brought her to her knees. He ripped her shirt from her mouth and produced his veiny throbbing cock dripping with pre cum. Y/n gasped in astonishment and eagerly attempted to take him all in her mouth bobbing her head enthusiastically until her jaw ached and eyes began to stream. He hurled his head back in pleasure as her tongue gently caressed his pulsating tip. “Ugh yeah just like that baby “ he muttered .
Without warning y/n sucked on the tip with vigour. Draco let out a ferocious moan whilst grabbing y/ns hair fashioning it into a ponytail attempting to make her glide her tongue down the rest of his shaft. He couldn’t have her do that for too long as he surely would finish in her mouth. “You filthy filthy girl “ he beamed as he pulled her off his cock . Rocking her head back spiting in her mouth. He brought yn to her feet and began kissing her deeply interlocking his tongue with hers , she yearned so badly to touch him to feel her skin against his. “ Get over here , I want you leant over this bed frame whilst I fuck you .. I'm going to cum on that pretty pussy then I'm going to put it back in understand!” Firmly instructed Draco . “Yes daddy” that’s my girl he cooed. Draco teasingly stroked his member against her entrance this sent shock waves through y/n causing her to gyrate in hopes he would slip in. Draco caught onto this and his hand came down harshly on her derrière .y/n let out a gasp. “Don’t be greedy now” he laughed tightening his makeshift restraints on her wrists. Relentless with his teasing it was a shock to y/n when Draco abruptly pushed into her. Y/n was in euphoria as was Draco as the warmth of her walls swaddled his manhood.
Draco slammed into y/n her body rattling with pleasure, just then Draco felt himself out to release .. so true to his word he instructed y/n to lay on her back so he could empty his contents onto her. He threw his head back in jubilation upon release. As he went to enter her again this time her was slower much more gentle taking y/n into his arms. “How do you want me to finish you off baby?,like this or I could use my fingers?” Y/n shuddered remembering the bliss she was in from his lengthy fingers so it would be a no brainer to opt for them “Fingers please daddy” she uttered softly.
He untangled himself from her stood up and offered his hand . Taking her across the room he sat down in-front of the floor length mirror instructing y/n to sit in between his legs. “If its fingers you was then its fingers you’ll get but your gonna have to watch me”. His large hand sloped up her neck tenderly chocking her whilst his other massaged at her slit . Y/n was still dripping from earlier so it was light work for him to imbed his fingers into her. Y/n couldn’t take it the combination of Draco's fierce unwavering gaze in the mirror and the sheer bliss she felt with her legs quaking she soon released decorating the mirror in-front her. “Ugh your amazing baby” he beamed kissing her forehead gracefully. “Here let's get you cleaned up and we can cuddle in bed”. “Oh my … I didn't peg you as a cuddling type Draco” y/n laughed gingerly attempting to get up her legs still trembling beneath her. “Shut up you” he scolded “when will you learn there’s a lot you still don’t know about me y/n”.
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sour--disposition · 3 years
Text
Damage Control
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harry lewis x fem!reader
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This is Part 2 to Bad Girlfriend, which you can find here
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You looked down to your phone, rolling your eyes at the name and photo popping up on the screen. “Hello”, you sighed, answering the call and sitting back down on the sofa.
“Y/N…”, Ethan trailed off. “We really need to talk to you. Harry’s really not doing well and we don’t know what else we can do to try and help him”, he told you.
You let your head fall back against the back of the sofa, letting out a deep breath. “I know you hate me and the rest of the boys and Harry, but he needs you”, Ethan begged.
“Where are you?”, you asked heavily.
“We’re all at Harry’s”, Ethan told you. “Thank you”.
Within half an hour, you’d managed to navigate the London traffic that separated both yours and Harry’s apartments. You were still pulling the hoodie over your head when you walked into the lift and hit the button for Harry’s floor. Ethan was waiting for you outside of the front door, arms crossed over his chest as he paced around a small section of the corridor.
“Hey”, he sighed, a small ounce of relief seeming to wash over him.
“Where is he?”, you asked instead of a greeting. Ethan nodded, and motioned for you to follow him into the apartment. As you expected, he led you down to Harry’s room. You passed the living room, where a multitude of shoes and coats had been discarded, and straight into the bedroom where the rest of the Sidemen and Cal congregated.
You got a few looks from some of the boys as you walked through the group and made a beeline for Harry’s bed. “Hey”, you whispered, perching yourself on the side of his bed.
Harry looked up at you, tears immediately filling his eyes. He pulled the duvet up and around his face more, trying to hide his blotchy skin and the dried tear tracks that you’d already noticed. “What’s this about?”, you asked him quietly.
“He won’t speak to us”, Josh said, voice laced with frustration and worry. You nodded at him before turning back to face Harry.
“I can’t help if you don’t speak to me”, you told him. 
As much as Harry had hurt you, nothing hurt more than walking away from his front door after returning the cardboard box with his stuff in it. Seeing him like this, as a shell of the person you thought you were going to spend forever with, was crushing.
You rested your palm on the side of Harry’s face, feeling the rough facial hair that had been building up on his cheeks since you’d last left his apartment. “Harry”, you whispered. You left your spot on the side of the bed in favour of kneeling on the floor so you could come face to face with him, chin propped on his mattress. You let a hand rest on his hair, scratching his scalp gently. “Please”.
“I’m so sorry”, he choked suddenly. “I’m so sorry”, he repeated, just as brokenly.
Fresh tears were running down Harry’s cheeks, dampening the pillowcase under his face. “Is that what’s caused this?”, you asked him gently, swooping your thumb down to wipe away a few of his tears. Harry’s nod was barely noticeable. “Will you talk to me about it?”, you asked, voice still just as soft.
Harry’s eyes met yours before darting around the room. You could see when he’d made his decision, recoiling back in on himself. “Tell you what, I’ll bring you a brew and give you a bit and then see how you’re doing”, you suggested, standing up from your spot and turning around to make your way out of the room.
You turned back to the boys, silently urging them out of the room before pulling Harry’s bedroom door shut and walking towards the kitchen to make him the promised cup of tea.
“Shouldn’t someone be in there with him?”, Vik asked.
“No”, you told him simply. “He’s not the best with people anyway but he’ll just be overwhelmed with this many people if he’s this upset”, you explained. As you waited for the kettle to boil, back rested against the kitchen counter, you turned to Cal. “How long has he been like this?”, you asked him.
“I mean, he’s been bad since you left him”, Cal said with a slight edge to his voice. “But he’s been bad since you brought his stuff round”, he sighed.
“Are you saying that this is my fault?”, you asked, voice turning defensive. The six other men in the room stiffened. Cal hadn’t been there for the blowout between you and Harry and you doubted that he’d been informed about anything that was said.
“Maybe this is a conversation for later”, Josh tried to mediate, voice hesitant and wary.
“No, she needs to hear that this is her fault”, Cal defended. “Bog’s in there on his arse because she’s a selfish cow”, he spat.
You scoffed, turning around to busy yourself with making Harry a cup of tea. “Look”, you said, before anyone could step in and cause any arguments. “You can think what you want about me, but I’m just trying to help Harry. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave”, you told him simply.
Cal was silent after that and stayed out of the way. He refused to look at the others who kept sending him funny looks and he stepped out of your way when you went to take Harry’s drink down to him. Your murmured ‘thank you’ when unacknowledged, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.
Harry was in the same position that you’d left him in, bundled up in the duvet staring blankly ahead at the wall. “Here you go”, you said, placing the cup down on the side table, perching on the side of the bed as you did so. Your hand returned to his hair, stroking through the messy, knotty pile of dirty blond. “I’ll come back in a bit, yeah? Drink that and see if you come ‘round a bit”, you told him, letting your hand have one more smooth over his hair before you got up and left.
You paused in the hallway after you’d shut Harry’s door. You let your head lean back against the wall as you tried and failed to fight the tears that had been bubbling just beneath the surface ever since you’d arrived at Harry’s. Seeing him in the state he was in seemed to reopen all the wounds that you’d managed to emergency triage over the last week or so and it ached so deeply that you didn’t know how to cope.
“Y/N?”, a voice asked from down the hallway. You stood up straight as quick as you could, scrubbing the tears off of your face and sniffing unattractively. “Are you okay?”, Josh asked you, coming closer.
“Yeah”, you told him, but your blotchy face and broken voice gave you away instantly.
“Freya told me how hard this has been for you”, Josh whispered, standing in front of you. “I tried to get Ethan to not call you but…”, he trailed off. “I’m so sorry”, he said.
“What for?”, you asked him, running the sleeves of your jumper under your eyes once again.
“Harry told us everything… I hope”, Josh started. “We were all awful to you and we thought we were protecting Harry. You don’t deserve any of that”, he told you.
“Cal clearly doesn’t have that idea”, you laughed sadly. “Me and Harry both kept secrets, we thought it was the best thing for the both of us. If I knew he was this bad…”, you trailed off.
“Come on, there’s a tea for you in here”, Josh said, guiding you towards the living room. He handed you a cup of tea that had been left on the side for you and went to sit down with the rest of the boys. You sat down in the free corner of the sofa, putting your cup down so you could wipe your tears once again.
“Why did you never tell us?”, Simon asked. “How bad he’d got? Why did you let us hate you?”.
“I don’t know”, you told him truthfully. “It was easier, I guess”, you shrugged.
“If we’d have known…”, Tobi started, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know, we’d have done something, though”. Each of the boys looked distressed, seeing Harry the way he was was taking a toll on everyone, but so was finding out the truth after 6 years worth of lies.
“I know that, but I don’t think he did. Or does”, you said sadly. “He’s terrified of disappointing any of you. I was terrified of disappointing him”, you shrugged weakly. “So I did everything I could to make sure that I didn’t”, you admitted.
Talking about it felt like pouring salt in the reopened wounds. “I guess that didn’t work”, you whispered to yourself, but the room was so deathly quiet that you may as well have shouted it.
“What do you mean?”, Ethan asked. “What didn’t work?”.
“Harry’s always deserved better than me, I guess he finally figured that out”, you said, as though it was obvious. 6 of the 7 faces in front of you wore incredulous expressions. “What?”.
“Harry said that he’s always thought you deserved better than him”, Josh told you sadly. “That that’s why he tried to push you away”.
You looked down to the cup in your hands, fingers tapping relentlessly as you tried to process what Josh had just told you without breaking down into floods of tears once again. “I never knew that”, you said, voice cracking around your tears. “I never thought it would end up like this”.
Nobody knew what to say to you. Josh and Simon had an idea from Freya and Talia about how hard this had hit you and you still dropped everything and came running when Ethan told you that Harry needed your help.
“I know I don’t know everything and I probably have no right to even say anything, but it’s painfully obvious that the two of you still love each other”, Josh told you. “You’re the only person he’s interacted with, let alone spoken to, in the last week”, he reminded you.
“What if loving each other isn’t enough?”, you asked brokenly. You could see the pity written across everyone’s face, even Cal’s, but that did nothing to ease the pain that was hacking away at your insides. 
It was clear that no one had an answer, so you sat up straight, took a deep breath and wiped your face. “I’ll be back in a bit”, you told them. “I’ll text someone if we need anything”, you promised.
You knocked on Harry’s bedroom door, but didn’t wait for a response before walking in and pushing the door half shut behind you. The mug on his side table was empty but Harry had curled himself back under the covers. He looked to you when you came in, before letting his eyes drift closed. He looked exhausted, but you weren’t surprised if he hadn’t been looking after himself.
“What can I do?”, you asked, sitting down next to Harry. He only shrugged in response, still not opening his eyes. “Harry, this isn’t safe, baby”, you whispered, letting your hand rest on his face again. You watched as Harry leaned into your touch, moving his head slightly so that as much of your skin as possible was touching his.
“I’m sorry”, he whispered again, voice a little less hoarse than before. “I don’t deserve this”.
“That’s not your choice”, you told him. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to”, you promised him.
“Don’t”, Harry said, voice as harsh as it could be given how weak he was. “I don’t deserve you looking after me again. Don’t lie and tell me you want to be here”, he whispered.
“Okay”, you said. “Sitting here hurts more than walking out the other week”, you admitted. “Because I still love you and seeing you like this is breaking my heart even more than it already is”.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut again, stray tears leaking out of the corners. In a change of plan, you stood up and went to the bathroom, grabbing the comb off of the side of the sink. “Let me know if it hurts”, you told him, before taking a small section of his hair and started working the comb through the very ends, working your way down to the roots.
You sat in the same position, slowly working your way through Harry’s hair, for 20 minutes. You did your best to cause him as little pain as possible, but some of the knots kept snagging on the comb because of how big they were. “Beautiful”, you smiled, putting the comb down on the side before turning back to him.
“Thank you, feels better”, he mumbled.
“I’m glad”, you told him, running your fingers through his, albeit greasy, knot-free hair. “Feel like taking a shower?”, you asked him, knowing Harry would find it hard to resist, especially if he hadn’t showered in a good few days.
“Wanna, but I’m too tired”, Harry murmured.
“Bath?”, you asked him. “I’ll get it running so all you need to do is go sit in there once it’s full”, you offered. You watched as the idea ran through Harry’s mind for a few moments, before he smiled up at you weakly and nodded.
Once you’d set the water running, you wandered back through to Harry’s room, sitting down next to him again. “Things aren’t right without you here”, Harry admitted. “Feels wrong”.
“I know”, you said.
“I wish I didn’t ruin everything”, he whispered.
“Josh said you always thought I deserved better than you, that that’s why you pushed me away”, you told him.
Harry looked confused. “Yeah”, he said, like it was obvious. “You’ve always deserved so much better than I can give you”.
“I always thought you deserved better than me”, you admitted. “How were we together for 6 years and didn’t even cover the basics?”, you scoffed.
“You thought you weren’t enough?”, Harry asked, and you could practically hear his heart breaking even more in his chest.
“You tried to push me away, I did everything I could to make sure I never disappointed you… I guess it was a cycle that just needed breaking”, you said sadly. “Your bath will be ready, go on”, you instructed.
While Harry was in the bath, you dug him out some clothes and a few towels and left them folded up on the sink before returning to his bedroom and finding out a fresh set of bedding.
By the time Harry had dried himself off from the bath and gotten dressed, you’d stripped and remade the bed and shoved the bedding into a laundry basket. “You didn’t have to do this”, Harry told you as soon as he spotted the fresh bedding.
“I know, but I need you to be okay and looking after you is the only way I know to make sure that you’re okay”, you told him honestly.
“Are you okay?”, Harry asked you bluntly, coming to sit on his bed. “Tell me the truth”, he whispered, taking your fingers in his.
“No”, you admitted quietly, eyes trained on your fingers.
“Talk to me”, he said quietly.
“I’m not ready to stop loving you yet but I’m scared that it’s not enough to try and make this work”, you said, eyes burning with brewing tears. “I don’t think I can ever stop loving you”, you croaked, tears finally spilling over and dropping onto your conjoined fingers.
Harry wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you between his legs, tucking your head beneath his chin. He squeezed you tightly as you sobbed unabashedly into his chest. Harry kept his head rested on yours, keeping you cocooned in his frame. It also meant that you wouldn’t be able to see the tears flooding his eyes at the sight of you so broken.
“I know I’ll never be able to stop loving you”, he admitted quietly, lips catching on your hair as he spoke. “I know the second tries have never worked before, but we never actually spoke about what was wrong”, Harry told you.
“Maybe breaking up and getting the whole truth out to everyone was the best thing that could happen for us”, you said weakly. “Well, I say that like you’ve not just had your first shower in a week and I’m not holding things together by a thread”, you snorted.
“I meant what I said”, Harry said suddenly after a few moments of silence. “Things aren’t right when you aren’t in my life. And it’s not just because we’ve been together for 6 years”, he told you. “I mean, like, I’ll see something on twitter and my first thought is that you’d find it funny, and how I nearly started crying in M & S because they were out of your favourite pasta shapes and then I remembered how much you hate M & S so I had to leave before I had a breakdown in the pasta aisle”, Harry said.
“I cried in Asda because I walked past a couple bickering about sushi and whether or not it was nice”, you admitted before laughing through the remnants of your tears as you sat up. “We’ve spoken more today than we have in the last 2 years”, you reminded him.
“Maybe another shot is worth it. You make me too happy to not try”, Harry whispered, resting a hand on your cheek and smiling softly when you leaned into it. “I love you too much not to try”.
Instead of replying, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to Harry’s. “I love you, too”, you whispered against his lips. You kissed him once more before pulling back and smiling at him.
You and Harry walked back out into the living room a few moments later, both still with blotchy faces and drying tear tracks and a few fingers hooked together. Harry ducked his head, a shy smile crossing his face when he saw that everyone was staring at the two of you.
Harry smushed himself into the corner of the sofa and quickly pulled you down to sit in the small space beside him. His arm rested over the back of the sofa, fingers twiddling your hair absentmindedly as you let your head drop to his shoulder tiredly.
“So... you all good, Bog?”, Ethan asked warily.
Harry turned to you briefly, an unmistakable look of bliss settling onto his features when your eyes darted up to meet his. The smile that you gave him pulled all the broken pieces back to the centre and the way you rubbed your cheek sleepily against his shoulder glued them all back together again.
Harry looked back up to Ethan, letting his arm behind your head drop down to cradle your shoulder and hold you to his body.
“Never better, mate”
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hotwings0203 · 3 years
Text
Gilded Cage
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A/N: It’s embarrassing how long this took but oh well, happy new year to everyone and I hope you enjoy scummy yandere hawks!
Warnings: dubcon, kidnapping, abuse, toxic relationships, degradation, yandere themes
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At first she welcomed the bright flashing lights like a breath of fresh air, but in due time it made her throat close up like the rest of the situation.
He had agreed to let her out if she behaved, and that meant no biting, scratching, screaming, flinching, temper tantrums, and worst of all, no silent treatment.
And she would take it like a champ if it meant seeing any other person in 6 months.
He had kept her here like a flightless bird in this cage of theirs, and oh how ironic it was that she was succumbed to be the prey of this ruthless hawk, with him able to soar amongst the people and buildings while Y/n stayed perched in the house, her ever-growing wings mentally becoming too much for her to control and stay silent about.
She needed space, she wanted to leave, but she didn’t dare voicing any of her wants, especially when Keigo made it so clear how her meager wants were of no match for his needs.
And his needs, as he’s made so clear thus far, include her being a pliant, quiet, yet loving little birdie who cooks, cleans, and lays with him day and night without complaint.
God forbid she speaks up about her...living conditions, as he liked to so generously supply to her the first and last time she ever had this conversation with him. She tried telling him how she originally had loved their relationship of a couple of months, and sure it might have been weird for him to push her into moving in with him only after 3 months, but it was because of how much he loved her or so he said at least, when he bashed her head repeatedly on the ground when she told him it “wasn’t normal to rush into things so fast”.
Sure, he had a big spacious penthouse lent to him by the Hero Commission so being physically cramped was never a problem, and yes okay he showered her with gifts and little trinkets, just like birds did with their mates even more so after a big fight that usually left her black and blue, with swollen lips, ripped up knees and big red welts on her wrists while the hero himself was left with not even a feather out of place.
But there were days where their movie nights and cuddling sessions didn’t cut it for her anymore. There were nights when she couldn’t take his suffocating arms around her a second longer, only to be replaced by an even heavier and darker presence when she tried turning on her side away from him.
Sometimes it would be a chain reaction caused by the smallest of catalysts, however. It would be on a day where he left the restraints on a little too tightly, and Y/n was forced to use toothpaste on her wrists instead of the salve Keigo always kept in the medicine closet. Other times it would happen when he would keep feeling up her sides and pressing into her after a long day of her cooking in hopes that the plentiful food would be enough to keep him occupied away from her, even if it was for an hour or two.
It never was, though. He always wanted her, whether it was her scent, her presence, or her clothes that he kept in his pockets on his missions.
On those days, the days where she felt too much Keigo, too many feathers and too much Hawks was when she snapped.
Down would go the plates, the expensive wine glasses, the vases filled with flowers sent by hundreds of fangirls who knew nothing about the monster that he actually was. She’d tear out her mussed hair, red-faced with tears that ruined her makeup the makeup that she liked to wear on these types of days just to piss him off, knowing that he thought “excess makeup is for whores and catfishes. I already know you’re a whore, well, my whore, but you’re not even good enough at applying makeup to be deemed a catfish so don’t even try it hummingbird” while screaming in his face to let go, for the love of god Hawks PLEASE let me go I want to go home I don’t want this anymore I don’t want YOU anymore this isn’t working out I don’t love you-
And crack would be the sound of his palm across her face, knocking her to the floor. On these types of days he wouldn’t even think she deserved a change in facial expression, staring down at her pathetic trembling body while his lips were set in a subtle casual smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as if he never raised an arm a second ago, and his eyes remained golden and neutral, the only indication of him processing her tantrum was the black glint in his pupils that dilated every time she gasped and sobbed on the floor.
To ensure that his precious, oh-so fragile lovebird wouldn’t hurt herself any further with her stupidity, he’d crouch down inches away from her face and cock his head slightly as a real bird would do. He’d reach out and lift her chin to face him while his other hand would snake up her thigh to try and console her which only succeeded in making her shake and breath unevenly.
Leaning forward to ghost his lips over the shell of her ear, he’d relish in the way her mouth would part in terror as he would lovingly whisper every threat of what he’d do to her the next time she wanted to be like a brat, because god help her if she thought he couldn’t tame a brat after dealing with a lifetime of villains.
It was almost laughable, how easy she was to silence. He didn’t even need to use feathers to pull her to her feet when he would tell her to go to the bed and get on all fours like the bitch she was.
She had to earn her way back into being his good, obedient little dove, on days like these.
But after these days would pass and she would indeed realign with his expectations, he would reward her greatly.
Never like this, though.
Y/n is brought to the present again as another flash of light from the paparazzi snaps her out of her daze. As the spots begin to fade from her vision, she sees Keigo in front of her adorning his trademark “for the fans-only” grin, although Y/n would call it a sleazy smile, the same smile he would give her before he signaled his feathers to cut deep into her feet so she’d stop kicking at him as he dragged her on the floor and feels him squeeze her hand a little too tightly to be dubbed as endearing.
“Stop zoning out on me, you look like a ditz”, he hisses through his teeth, his grin now resembling more of a bared-teeth look.
She tries to try to fix her face and pull the corners of her mouth up, attempting to also brighten her eyes and looking interested at the blond interviewer who was now conversing with Hawks about his recent team-up with Endeavor. It takes every ounce of self-restraint to not shove past the phony smiles and flashy attire enveloping her and waltz down the red carpet to the doors of the gala. She thinks if she hears him utter another word about how he’s so incredibly blessed to have the love and support of my fans, family, and most importantly, my girlfriend who has stuck by my side through thick and thin, she’ll puke on the bedazzled yellow dress the interviewer has on.
As if. He’d probably whisk her off to the nearest bathroom and pummel her on the floor right then and there just for being distracted, but not before fucking her as well.
She feels Hawks nudge her side, and on cue she darts her head up and really plasters on a blinding smile as she focuses on the question that was just asked to her.
“Sorry, what was that? I think I got distracted by your outfit, you look lovely tonight, an absolute catch.” She winks for good measure, just to salvage the damage of ignoring the conversation and Keigo’s tight-lipped smile, which was beginning to soften.
Bingo.
“Oh you’re so sweet! I can see why Mr. Number Two here swooped in to take such a cutie like yourself.” The interviewer giggled, twirling a golden lock around her finger. “But no worries, I was just saying you should come make a public appearance more often! I mean, the media barely gets to see you with Hawks intimately, it would be a great excuse to get all glammed-up as well...I mean, if Hawks here hasn’t got his talons sunk too deep into you.” She laughs shrilly and doesn’t notice how both Y/n and Keigo tense up at her insinuation.
Yeah lady, you’re not too far from the truth. The last time I tried to look nice and go outside, I was bedridden for a week and a half while nursing frozen peas over 7 different parts of my body, inside and out.
But if Keigo can bullshit more than he can tell the truth, then so could she.
She laughs warmly and places her hand on his shoulder lightly, just to sell the “supportive girlfriend” look.
“Well, I really would love to come out and show my support for him more often, but we’ve both agreed that with all the publicity anyways, it’s just too much pressure for me to deal with. I’d rather just stick with what I know and keep it hush between him and I.” She turns her gaze to Keigo now, superficially giving him a puppy-in-love look but discreetly seeking his approval if what she said was the correct thing or not.
He merely gave her an amused smile, as if to say damn, wasn’t expecting that answer but I guess it’s fine. Yeah. Two can play at that game.
Pleased with her answer, the blond bimbo turns on her heel and sashays away, leaving the couple by themselves.
Keigo gives Y/n a side eye and cautiously holds out his elbow for her to take. A peace offering for the meantime, just to reward her for the quick save.
Don’t fuck this up for me, or you’ll regret it tenfold when we get back home.
“Shall we?” He waits for her to oblige, and of course she does.
Arm-in arm, they gracefully walk down the red carpet towards the gold plated doors. Upon entering, Y/n’s breath is taken away at the grand hall, with red banners hanging from the balconies that had navy blue and gold words of praise for the heroes engraved in the silk. Hundreds of pro heroes filled the room, much more than what she was used to from only interacting with her captor for months.
Guiding her over to the long granite bar, Keigo squeezes her arm before lightly dropping it. Before she can move, he stands directly in front of her and his vermillion wings unfurl and slightly surround the two of them, creating their own little space. To others, it might’ve just looked like two lovers embracing each other and having their own little moment. Y/N knew better, however, and suspected he had ulterior motives.
She was right.
“I’m gonna leave you here for a few minutes, ‘kay? I don’t want you moving from here,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and she had to suppress a shudder at his unwanted proximity. “The feather stays on, and I better not see or hear anything funny while I’m away.”
She nodded and touched her necklace that was indeed laced with one of his feathers, remembering the deal he made when he agreed to let you out for the day.
Ah yes, the dreaded feather.
When she had approached him on shaking legs two days prior, Hawks was brushing his hair in the bathroom, keen on meticulously keeping it styled and ruffed up in the morning. It was one of the things that Y/N would begrudgingly say was one of his finest features, along with his natural eyeliner-shaped markings and rugged yet handsome facial features.
On good days, she liked to lightly trace her fingers and across his sharp jawline and feel the stubble growing on his blushed face. She’d try to stop immediately however, when he’d open his eyes and catch her hand, moving it across his body much to her chagrin and down to his-
She had stood outside the door, fumbling with the hem of her thin nightie and desperately trying to pull the short material past her bare thighs as she mustered up the courage to bring up her proposition.
Keigo slowly ceased his brushing when he saw the meek little thing quivering outside his door, and he quirked up an amused eyebrow. He braced both arms on either side of the sink, and let out a light exhale, before addressing her.
“Something wrong hummingbird?”
She dragged her eyes from the floor up to his dilated golden irises, and blurted out what she had been rehearsing in her head for the past couple of days:
“DoyouthinkIcouldcomewithyoutothegala?”
“Huh?” he snickered, thoroughly bewildered by what incomprehensible nonsense she had stuttered out.
Y/N bit her lip and took in a shaky breath, strike one, she fumbled her first try.
“Haw- uh, Keigo,” she corrected quickly. He preferred her using his first name, his real name. He claimed it made things more intimate between them as if carving his name on her back hadn't been enough to seal their “intimacy’-she didn’t need to be told twice what to call him by after that day “I was wondering...if I’m good and I don’t give you a hard time, can I come with you to the hero's gala?”
Keigo’s brow furrowed slightly, and he cocked his head to the side like a real bird. He seemed to be contemplating it.
“Alright,” he conceded after a couple seconds. “If, and I mean if you listen to me and don’t try any funny business while we’re there I’ll let you tag along.”
Y/N darted her eyes up to him, hope swimming in her heart.
“But you have to wear the feather.”
She immediately blanched.
A major inconvenience that she had come to terms with in the duration of her stay with him had been his stupid fucking feathers that layed oh-so-casually around the floor where she walked and coincidentally clinging to her clothes wherever she went out of Keigo’s eyesight, even though she was trapped on the same floor with him.
They had special properties; they could detect any movement, sense any vibration whenever he called for it. This made for a perfect tracker for Y/N in terms of whenever he wanted an update on her heartbeat, her mood, her whereabouts, and anything in between.
Yes, it was suffocating. But she would much rather it only be a suffocating feeling rather than him actually directing hundreds of feathers to surround her and hold her down on the bed or floor to do whatever he wanted with her in any position he pleased.
She didn’t dare complain to his face, however. She’d grit her teeth, grin and bear it, listen to every whim he demanded of her if it meant one night of superficial normalcy.
And so she put on her best behavior on the days leading up to the main event. She made dozens of dishes that circulated around chicken (his favorite binge food), she let them have “cuddle time”, with no complaints whatsoever when he insisted on bathing her and dressing her up in stupid pink frilly skirts, and she even gave him little subtle looks with a batting of her eyelashes when he looked down fondly at her good mannerisms and praised her for being such a sweet little birdie.
Eventually, her acting paid off and on the morning of the gala she was merited with a silk red dress that stopped at her upper thigh, ornamented with gold earrings and a 12K necklace to really sell off the look-which was of course wrapped around one of his feathers. Hawks had even hired a makeup artist who was instructed to not ask or say anything to Y/N save for questions about the products, much to her pleasant surprise.
She was still reminded of how much she had to grovel for him every time he rewarded her that afternoon.
“You look stunning, chickadee,” Keigo leaned against the dresser with his arms crossed, and smiled warmly at Y/N. “You’re making her look like a real model, maybe she should take over my job instead. Or, actually, maybe you could stop by my agency and make me all pretty for my next photoshoot.” He directed this last tease at the makeup artist and winked, causing the oblivious employee to giggle and blush.
Ugh, barf. He’s even a sleaze when I’m right here.
Y/N feigned a roll of her eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by the hero. She could feel his dilated eyes boring into her the rest of the 15 minutes of touch-ups. Eventually everything was done, and Hawks left praise after shameless praise fall from his lips and onto the poor fangirl’s heart as he guided her out the door, a hand on her lower back as he did so.
She took the opportunity to get up and walk to the full-length mirror, admiring how she looked for the first time in ages. Gone were the multi-colored marks that decorated her body as if she were nothing more than a mere canvas for her painter to use. Her eyes seemed a little brighter too, and it wasn’t just the makeup that caused it. She stood a little straighter and squared her shoulders, her chin tilted up more than before while she stared at her reflection. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror, and she liked it for once.
It was ridiculous, she knew it was to feel so vain but she couldn’t help but bask in her potential freedom for just one night. She looked gorgeous, she felt confident, and she had earned it all on her own.
Cocking her head to the side, she tried to practice a couple smiles to be camera-ready for when the time came. She turned the corners of her lips up, then showed her teeth, and even tried fluffing her hair up sensually. Biting her lip slightly, she threw her head back, causing her curled locks to bounce and lowered her eyelids to look sexy. She giggled at her own stupidity and poses, completely unaware that a certain winged-man had entered the room and leaned against the door for the past couple of minutes, simply watching the little show she put on.
“That's quite a look you’ve got there hun, why don’t you make those faces more often with me?”
She immediately froze, her breath hitching. She didn’t dare look at him in the eye from the mirror.
“I mean, I’m the only one who should be seeing such a slutty expression anyways, right?” He said ever-so casually, hands in his pockets as he slowly strolled up behind her, and she couldn’t help but think as her eyes darted up to meet him in the mirror that the sadistic shit-eating grin on his face didn’t suit so well with his god-like features.
She visibly wilted, her shoulders hunched and head down in contrast to the tall, powerful woman she had felt like mere seconds ago. Her breath quickened as he leaned over her shoulder, grazing his teeth over the sensitive part under her ear, and she bit her lip harshly to stop the squeak that threatened to escape her trembling lips.
“If I had known that a pretty dress and some makeup would make you act like a wanton little whore, I would’ve done this wayyy sooner. I guess you really are just another dumb bimbo bitch who does anything she’s told if she gets to feel important for a night.” He whispered in her ear, resting his head on her shoulder and looking up at her with innocent eyes, ones that imitated the mocking tone of voice he used.
It seemed like he wanted her to feel disgusting, to wilt under his cruel words that he used like knives-knives that were sharpened with his tone and body language, knives that were so intimately and carefully chosen. They worded so that they were used to their full extent to cut and carve through her heart.
“Is that what you are my little songbird, hmm? You wanna be a pretty baby and have everyone’s attention on you? I’m hurt, here I was thinking I was enough for you.” He pouted, and with every word he spoke the grip his hands had around her waist tightened.
She tried to protest but he plowed through her pitiful attempts.
“Hell, if you want some attention so bad and whore yourself out, I should call over some friends! Yeah, we can skip tonight’s gala, would you like that songbird? For me to share you with my friends so they can satiate your whorish needs?” And at his he shook her lightly, his grip around her middle choking her and cutting off her circulation. “N-no, Hawks,” she wheezed out. “I just... liked my makeup, that’s it. I only want you, I promise. I won’t cause any trouble tonight, please don’t call any friends over.”
She looked up at him in the mirror with eyes the size of saucers, blinking away tears and trying her best to show how apologetic she was at her audacity to feel good about herself.
He loosened his arms and straightened up, peering down at her disgustedly. He had absolutely no regrets about the way she sucked in air immediately when he relented, or about the way she frantically brushed the tears from her eyes, trying to preserve her mascara from running. (not that he would’ve minded). She needed to learn her lesson; he controlled her highs and lows. Only he had the permission of holding her fragile emotions in the palm of his hand, and if she didn't want that palm turning into a fist and breaking her, she would do well not to piss him off and treading carefully about flaunting what was meant for his eyes only.
She wanted to lock herself in the bathroom and cry out to her heart's content from being embarrassed and degraded like this. She kept absolutely still however, when she felt his hands lightly tracing the feather on her collarbones. It was an unspoken threat, and when their eyes met once again in the mirror, the way he sized her up confirmed it.
The feather stayed on.
Which brought her back to the present.
Y/N had already downed 3 glasses of champagne while reminiscing about earlier today, something Hawks would’ve surely tutted at. Finding herself bored, she meandered around the bar, keeping close to where he left her.
She scanned the room for her ‘lover’ and found him laughing with a group of his friends, his head thrown back and the charming sound of his deep yet lilted voice carrying through the hall, entrapping anyone who was around.
He certainly had presence, no sense in denying it.
Any girl would’ve been crazy to deny him, and Y/N wished that Hawks had fallen for a girl that didn’t want to deny him out of his hundreds of fangirls a point that was set in stone in Y/N’s mind when she saw a tall brunette clinging to his arm while she shrieked with laughter at whatever stupid story Hawks was telling.
Said fangirl seemed to also have been put under his contagious spell, from the way she so obviously threw herself on his arm and pushed her chest against his side under the pretense of shaking with laughter. Various other parts of her body seemed to be shaking against him too, but he didn’t seem to mind based on the smirk he quickly looked down at her with.
For the second time that night, Y/N wanted to throw up.
Was it jealousy? Negative. Rather, it was frustration that he literally had girls throwing themselves at him, tits hanging out and all but yet he wanted what he knew he couldn’t have. She assumed that it was this mentality of his that landed him at being Number 2, chasing after the seemingly impossible until it was tangible.
It was easier on some days to try to understand his point of view. It was much better than getting lost in the hours pondering what kind of bad karma she inherited from a past life to go through this hell. But on some mornings when she felt stone-cold sober, she remembered that she was a person, not some objective or conquest that he had rightfully won. Deciding to try and take her mind off from the trainwreck that was unfolding in front of her, Y/N aimlessly wandered to the side of the bar and down a grand hallway that was less crowded and had less Hawks.
On either side of the hall, giant bronze frames held the portraits of past heroes and had little scriptures of their accomplishments. Hawks had always talked about how he wanted his name up there, and how one day he was going to do something incredible to have his own face up on the hall of fame. His idol, Endeavor, already has taken place on the wall right next to All Might’s frame, and Y/N looks up and ponders at both of their pictures.
And how befitting is it, that Hawk’s idol is also accused of a sinister and tumultuous family past.
Maybe he doesn’t need to work too hard to follow in the footsteps of the number one hero.
“Quite the hero, Endeavor is. Even though there is controversy about the nature of his past and his redemption efforts, he set many precedents as to how a true hero should act.” Y/N’s head snaps to the right where Edgeshot had just joined her. He wore a navy blue tux with red seams, his trademark mask covering the lower half of his face.
“Yeah, you’d think his admirers would try to follow in the footsteps of changing themselves too,” she muttered bitterly. “I’ve noticed his biggest fans seem to take after his more...old brutish traits rather than the better person he’s trying to be now.”
The masked hero laughed softly, and Y/N looked at him suspiciously.
“What, you don’t think heroes have their own fair share of flaws?” She challenged.
“No no, don’t get me wrong of course. I would be on an inappropriate level of naivety to assume that, considering I’m a part of the whole corrupt system itself. I think, however, that change within a person comes after an extended time of self-reflection. You have to look within yourself and accept that you were wrong in the first place, if you want to change.”
Y/N was quiet for a moment.
“Do you think the villains are ever right? About society brushing the flipside of heroism under the carpet, I mean. It doesn’t matter if the heroes are trying to save people because it's expected of them, if they aren’t actually compassionate about their cause then is there really a point?” She asked desperately, hoping he could understand her.
Edgeshot hesitated for a moment before answering.
“In my years of experience,” he said quietly, still looking up at Endeavor’s painting, “the ones who have at heart a solid reason for acting the way they do are most always justified. It may not always be a good reason, but a foundation always gives way to a justification that can be argued for.”
All of a sudden, Y/N gasped as white hot pain sliced through her sternum. She looked down and saw the red feather on her necklace quivering as a fine line of red sprouted from the cut it made.
“Are you alright?” Edgeshot asked, looking fairly alarmed, his hand reaching for her shoulder.
“Yes, of course! My necklace is just a little sharp, a little edge just nicked me that's all.” She said shrilly, already backing away from the concerned hero. Turning on her heel, she picked up the hem of her dress and tottered out of the hall, not paying any mind to the vermillion plumage that drifted down her chest, past her waist and eventually clinging onto her leg, making little nips and stabs here and there.
Blood was pounding through her head as she navigated the way back to where Hawks had left her to be. Her palms were sweaty and she was sure her hair was becoming messy as she whipped her head around, attempting to look past tall heads and bodies that blocked her way to the bar.
Shitshitshitshit god please don’t let him be there already please please please-
But it seemed as though god wasn’t in a merciful mood, because lo and behold, the raptor was leaning against the long granite island with a glass in his hand.
He seemed to be casually grinning, swirling a maroon substance in his cup and choking it down leisurely, but as Y/N drew closer she knew-as expected- he seemed off.
The smell of alcohol was nauseating around him, he must have been drinking something strong. His wings, although lightly flapping behind him, were pointed at the edges and shaking lightly. His eyes were completely dilated, and were shifting around the room until they settled on her meek figure rushing up to him.
“Hey there birdy, long time no see. Did you have a good chat with Edgeshot? I’m sure you both enjoyed talking shit about me behind my back.” Y/N winced at how charismatic and booming his laugh was after his ominous remark. It was too carefree, a complete cover-up of how she knew he was actually feeling, and that scared her the most.
“Hawks I-”
“Keigo, sweetheart, did you forget my name already after talking with just one person? Damn, I’m hurt, guess keeping you locked up at home was the right decision after all if you’re acting like such a stone-cold bitch now.”
She stared up at him, openmouthed and thoroughly panicked now. He was talking too much, he was going to expose himself and her-
Wait. Why is she covering for him? Wouldn’t it be better if he blabbed everything else so people could realize what he’s doing? Maybe someone would intervene and save her!
But it seemed like he was three steps ahead of her and had already figured that out, because his face flushed slightly and his eyes darkened and narrowed, with lips set in a flat line. When Y/N saw this change, she tried to back away but he quickly grabbed her hand and yanked her out the room and through the exit doors. It was all happening so fast, she could hear various people call out to Hawks but he plowed through them so fast that she didn’t have time to even process that they were out of the building and in the air.
She screamed as he soared to an even higher altitude, clinging onto his neck for dear life. The wind whipped past her face, stinging her cheeks with the frigid cold and water particles that embedded on her lashes. Hawks was laughing hysterically the entire time he gained height, his talons ripping through her dress and piercing her skin, even overlapping the previous cuts his feather had made earlier.
“S-stop, what’re you doing, are you fucking crazy?” She shrieked, her words losing volume as the air was ripped out of her lungs.
“KEIGO, its KEIGO you stupid fucking cunt!” he screamed in her face. His arms loosened around her waist, and suddenly Y/N was falling, falling, falling straight for the asphalt.
She couldn’t even turn her head as her limp body plummeted down for imminent death. Her lungs begged for oxygen, fear settling like lead in her stomach, but the second she closed her eyes for what she thought was the last time, (Hawks) Keigo swooped down and yanked her back into his sinister embrace by her hair.
Ignoring the ripping strands she felt in her skull, she flailed around in midair trying to grab onto something-she reached up to grab his foot but he noticed and kicked her square in the face. Y/N had never before felt such terror and pain, mentally or physically.
Damn her pride, she wants to live for god's sake.
“Keigo,” she sobbed, remembering just in time to use his real name lest he smash her teeth in again, “please put me down, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I talked to Edgeshot but I swear it wasn’t anything bad or about you.” The warm blood streaming down her nose began to harden on her upper lip from the chilly altitude they had reached.
Abruptly, he shifted his grip and pulled her up by her hair (she winced at that painful adjustment) so that he could hold her around her waist now.
They had to have been at least 200 or so feet in the air. The pair had cleared their way through some clouds and could clearly see the full moon right in front of them. It was deathly quiet except for Y/N’s labored breathing through her fractured nose, and her fear racked even further as she looked up at Hawks and realized that he was simply staring down at her with completely dilated eyes that narrowed and gleamed at her expression. He truly looked like a bird of prey right now, a predator that was forcing her to play the part of his prey, a point that solidified when he suddenly wrapped one hand around her throat to feel her heartbeat that thumped like a rabbits’.
The light from the moon reflected off his back, causing his front to be completely shadowed so that the contours of his sharp face seemed ever more looming and dangerous. Both of them stayed suspended in the air for a minute or two like that, Y/N not daring to speak unless he granted her a sign to repent.
After a long, painstakingly suspenseful minute of studying her face, he finally growled “We’re going home.”
It seemed to take only a mere couple of minutes for the Number Two hero to travel halfway across the city. Y/N barely had time to try and drink in the beautiful colors that accented the winding streets and buildings below her, knowing that it would most probably be a long time before she saw anything else that resembled freedom again.
He finally began to descend rapidly, forcing her to cling onto his jacket and shove her face into the crook of his neck to avoid getting whiplash. Peeking through her lashes, she recognized the balcony floor of his penthouse rushing underneath their feet. Dread and anxiety surged through her veins as he finally landed and postiviley threw her off of him and onto the wooden floor. She slid a good couple of feet and skinned her legs in the process, unable to stop her momentum as she slammed back into a lamp.
Dazed, she saw stars as she rubbed her aching head. Unfortunately she didn’t see him, rushing over to her the second she landed.
He grabbed her jaw tight and wrenched her bleary eyes to look up at him.
What he saw was beautiful.
A trembling mess beneath him, makeup runny and complemented with blood that flowed from her nose like an eternal stream. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the way she kept flinching any time he shifted; it made his pants tighten and caused his teeth to grit in what he measured to be the absolute last bits of self restraint he had for the night. He had truly ruined her, and he internally patted himself on the back at his work.
Was he mad? Yes, wholly and completely at her betrayal of his orders.
Did he regret losing his temper? Absolutely not. In fact, if you ask him, he should get mad at her more often like this. If it merited her pliant and vulnerable being, then who was he to deny such pleasure? Fuck he should’ve done this from the start- blowing up at mild disobediance instead of acting like a doting, patient boyfriend.
“You alive?” he roughly shook her head and her teeth chattered inside her skull while he did so.
“Yes,” she whispered, mouth popped open by his gloved fingers as he shoved a digit inside her warm and wet cavern. It was embarrassing how drool seeped through her lips and dribbled down her chin, but humility was the least concerning factor in her environment at the moment.
“Good. After acting like such a tramp you better fucking be. I told you one thing,” and he slapped her for added emphasis to his frustration, “can you repeat what I told you? Or are you so braindead that you can’t remember the one order I gave you when I trusted you to sit still and look pretty like a good little bitch?”
“Nnngh, no I rem-I remember.” Y/N panted out, attempting to talk through puckered lips and drool. “You told me to stay at the bar and not to move.”
“Exactly. So what part of that was so hard to understand, huh?” He hissed through his teeth, looking deranged.
“I just got bored, that’s all. I wanted to talk to another person…” Even though she didn’t finish her sentence, Hawks understood her perfectly.
I wanted to talk to another person apart from you.
He let out a mocking laugh, stretching his arms over his head to hide his shaking fists. Rage swept through his body like wildfire, licking up his throat and cheeks. His face was flushed and unreadable to Y/N as he sauntered around the couch and plopped down on it, spreading his legs to seem as uncouth as possible.
She sat shivering on the floor, unsure of if he wanted her to follow him or wither away on the floor like a mutt.
As he sighed loudly however, her body immediately tensed as though bracing for another painful impact. She daringly peeked over her shoulder and saw the back of his head protruding from the black and red leather couch. Lazily flicking his wrist up to a height where she could see, he vaguely beckoned her over without saying a word.
Immediately she scampered over to him and situated herself at his feet (where she belonged). Her eyes were downcast, and he begrudgingly accepted it as a form of submission on her part. No sense in beating the disobedience out of her now if she already knows what she did wrong.
Hawks heaved out another heavy sigh and let his head fall backwards. On one hand, he was slightly drunk and his head was killing him-he just wanted to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. However, there was a problem that was contributing to his growing migraine, and that problem was sitting right in front of him, practically kneeling at his feet for mercy. More than sleep, he wanted to take care of said issue and call it a night, so he decided to skip the sweet talk and warm up.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid. I’m gonna close my eyes and by the time I open them you better have already thought of a way to make tonight up to me, and you better have already put that plan in action. Then, we’re going to bed and when you wake up you’ll regret the day you even thought of talking to anyone apart from me, since you seem to have forgotten who’s been coddling your ass all this time.” He sneered, relishing at the way Y/N’s face went pale.
True to his word, he closed his eyes, glad to see his last view as the pathetic bitch who was about to service him. The feel of slight fumbling on his zipper made him feel even more drunk and giddy as it was pulled down. Maybe the entire evening wasn’t a complete wash after all.
Yeah, he should take her out a lot more.
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let-them-read-fics · 3 years
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Dancing In The Dark
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Pairing: Lisa x Fem!5thMember!Reader
Word Count: ~ 6,641 😌
Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Language, Suggestive Themes, Fluff
Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.
A/N: BOP BOP BOP 💃 Here's a Lisa fic for you guys!!! This isn't the request I got for her, but recent events inspired me to write this one and I really hope you enjoy it. More content will be coming in the near future :) Thank you all for the continued support, and as always... ♡ Happy Reading ♡
Follow-Up Part: Worth It
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
Tense isn't quite good enough of a word to describe how you've spent the past week and a half. For some reason unbeknownst to you, Lisa's been hostile and standoffish whenever you've tried to communicate, always giving you short answers and snide remarks instead of being mature and confronting you about whatever issue she has. So, of course, it's only natural for the bitterness to have rubbed off on you as well. 
What's worse is that you're not even sure why you're fighting. Anytime you rack your brain for a reason to explain the anger, you come up with nothing. 
"Are we still on for practice later?" You ask, picking up a piece of bacon from the breakfast tray that sets on the counter. 
"I'll be there." She says simply, not even bothering to look up from the bowl of cereal she decided to grab. You clench your jaw and give a curt nod, determined to give her the same energy she's giving you. 
Jisoo notices the air of aversion that's quickly taking over the room, so she speaks up in an attempt to lighten the mood. "I can't wait to meet more Blinks at our fansign later this week. Aren't you guys excited?" The mere thought of meeting your supporters makes the unnie unbelievably happy, and all the hard work seems worthwhile. 
Despite herself, Lisa lightly grins and mutters a phrase of agreement around her mouthful of food. 
"At least they know how to make conversation." You respond pettily, glancing across the counter at Lisa as you take a bite of your bacon.
"I know how, Y/N. I just lack the desire to do so," she shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the cold words that slip past her plump lips. 
You click your tongue, now used to her behavior. Had this been one of her first times saying something like that, you probably would've been sadder than you currently are.
"Awww," you coo. "You come up with that one on the spot? You'll have to do better than that if you wanna hurt me." You lean against the marble countertop to whisper that last part, throwing a goodbye to Jisoo as you set off to your room to get ready for the day. 
Later That Day -- 7:49 PM
The bright red numbers displayed above the elevator doors tick on, changing with each floor you put behind you. A heavy sigh bounces off the walls and you rub the back of your neck for comfort. 
Why does Lisa have to be such a good dancer? The only reason you arranged this practice with her in the first place is to ensure that you know all the proper choreo for your upcoming Inkigayo performance. Your fans matter more to you than any disagreement you could be in, and you're determined to put on the best show possible for them. Lisa just so happens to be a critical factor in that process, unfortunately.
"Level 6," an automated voice announces before the sleek doors open, revealing a nearly uninhabited floor of practice rooms. They branch off on both sides of the long hallway that stretches out before you, and you get started on your journey down it. The only occupied studio sets at the end, emitting a soft glow through its translucent door as one of your song's choruses thumps through the speakers. 
You don't bother to knock before walking in, far past keeping up with the niceties any longer. Lisa's eyes dart from the wall of mirrors that borders the front of the room to glance at you, momentarily stilling her movements. 
"Don't let me stop you," you say, moving your hand in a "shoo-ing" motion at her until she picks back up with the song. You turn around to shut the door and take off your jacket, missing the way her eyes slowly rake over your body. 
You join her in the middle of the room, making sure to stay far enough away so that neither of you accidently hit or bump into each other as you run through the songs. The next hour or so is spent doing just that, repeating the ones you have issues with until you're performing the moves expertly. Every approving nod and shout from Lisa works to boost your confidence, and you actually find it a bit easier to enjoy yourself in her presence again. The two of you trade jokes, and sometimes it seems as if the hostility is fading away.
"You did well with all the other songs, so let's practice the one where we have the male backup dancers. I'll fill in for them." 
Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of Lisa dancing so sensually with you, but you quickly dismiss it and get into position. 
"From the top?" You ask over your shoulder, feeling her eyes on you as she approaches. 
"Of course." She says it like it's common sense.
The song starts up, and she sets her phone down on a nearby chair that she dragged closer earlier. She watches as you perform your solo moves, offering tweaks and scattered praises all the while. About midway through, the song shifts and she rolls her sleeves up in preparation. 
You take a deep breath as she settles behind you, reaching an arm around your front to rest her fingertips on your jaw. When the next hit of the sensual bass vibrates across the practice room, she coaxes your head to the side, moving hers forward just enough to brush her lips against your neck. 
You're aware of every twitch of her muscles, every breath she takes -- her body is flush up against yours, radiating that heat that you've missed so much. Her heart beats quickly like yours, and you can feel the way it pounds against your back.
Perhaps this is the moment you should step away; some distance is sure to clear the fog that settles over your brain, clouding your judgment more than ever. But she's holding you like she used to, and you can't muster up the energy to put an end to something that feels so good. 
"Arms up," she coaches, lifting your hands above your head before trailing her fingers back down your arms, lower and lower until they skim over the warm skin of your abdomen. In one fell swoop, she tangles her thumb into one of the belt loops of your jeans and uses her other hand to assist you with the next move: a spin. Her hold is steady, and your hair cascades over your shoulders as you lean your head back, twirling effortlessly. Given that your eyes are closed, you fail to notice the way she traps her bottom lip in between her teeth, doing all she can to keep dancing and not kiss you. You feel her palm press to the small of your back as her arms tighten around your waist, allowing you to dip towards the ground without falling.
"Good, just like that." The praise is like music to your ears as she raises you back up, and she audibly swallows when she sees how mussed your clothes have become from dancing. 
Turning your attention back to the front, you meet her gaze in the mirror; it's calculated and intimidating, but she looks aroused. You watch as her eyes scan over your body, lingering in the places that she's spent hours worshiping before. A smug smile tugs at your lips; despite being mad, her attraction to you is undeniable. With that in mind, you decide to tease her; in time with the music, you push your hips back. 
"I think I still need help with this next part." You purr, lulling your head back to rest against her shoulder as you slowly drag your hands over your body. Lisa lets out a low moan when you arch your back, grinding your ass further into her while you innocently toy with the buttons of your shirt. Having her in such a state is great enough, but knowing that you're the reason she's so turned on is something else entirely.
"Y/N…" she warns, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress anymore noises that run the risk of selling her out. 
"Lisa…" you tease back, playfully matching her tone as you watch her face scrunch up in response to the way you wind your body along to the music. 
She turns you around, her grip on your hips tightening as she works hard to restrain herself. Your chest rises and falls with slightly hurried breaths, partially from the dancing you've been doing and partially from the effect she has on you. Keeping her hands from roaming is proving harder than she imagined it'd be, and her mind goes into overdrive to find a way to make sure things don't slip too far out of her control. 
Her plans are stalled when you grab the material of her shirt in your fists, lightly yanking her forward by the collar of it until her lips ghost dangerously close to yours. You fake her out, only allowing them to brush against each other for a moment before you tilt your head and drop your mouth down to her neck. 
As you begin to leave a light hickey on her pulse point, she somehow manages to come to her senses and knows what she has to do. It was a hard fought battle, though, and part of her still wants to relent and let you have your way with her. 
She puts her hands on your shoulders and shoves you backwards, being careful not to push too hard. The look in her eye is predatory, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't thrill you. 
With every advancing step she takes, slow and deliciously torturous in its nature, you take one backwards, only stopping when the cold surface of the mirror presses against your skin. 
"You wanna know why I've been short with you?" Her darkening eyes scan down to your lips before coming back up to look into yours as she waits for your answer. 
Why would she bring that up right now? The question sours your mood, effectively ruining the moment -- that's exactly what Lisa wanted (she's still bothered by whatever's been plaguing her lately, and as much as she wants you, she can't get over it yet).
"Yeah, because it's really unfair. I haven't done anything wrong." The anger and hurt you've been feeling for the past week returns now, bubbling up in your chest when the memories of some of her more harsh words replay in your mind. Your voice conveys the growing irritation you feel, but Lisa’s expression remains unreadable. The effects of your desire are beginning to border on frustration now, dancing on the line as they threaten to cross over it.
"I didn't particularly appreciate finding you at the studio with Jung-hoon when you were supposed to be with us."
A singular exhale leaves you, short and unbelieving as you roll your eyes.
"That's what this is about?" You scoff. "You know I was held back to record my part for the newest track; and besides, I wasn't even that late to dinner. The girls weren't mad, so why are you?" Your arms come up to cross over your chest defensively, and you narrow your eyes at her.
"You should know." She says it like it's the most obvious thing known to man.
"Well clearly I don't, Lisa, so why don't you enlighten me?"
"You're so oblivious," she bites back, rolling her eyes like you just had, "He's practically in love with you."
"What?"
"You heard me. He doesn't even try to hide it. Why else do you think he made sure to schedule you for the last slot of the day? He wanted to get you alone." Her tone is laced with bitterness, and a grimace crosses her face. Even the thought of him puts her off.
"So what if he did? I'd rather be talking to him than getting this shitty treatment from you." 
"Is that so?" She challenges, pursing her lips with a tut as she tilts her head up. 
"It sure is. You'd never know it, considering you seem to hate him so much, but he's actually pretty nice. He even bought me a tea when I complained about my throat being sore that night."
"He sounds like a winner," she says sarcastically, voice void of sincerity as it drips with contempt instead, "Why don't you go spend some time with him, then, if I'm just so horrible to be around?" 
You shake your head as a humorless laugh slips past your lips. She's unbelievable. Before you can think of a good response, she continues her train of thought. "Maybe he'll bribe his way into your pants like he's been trying to for the past month. Tell me, Y/N, would he have to buy you dinner first? Or would another tea suffice?" 
The second those words leave Lisa's lips, her chest tightens; she draws a breath in, keeping it held tightly in her lungs as guilt begins to course through her. She feels the aftershocks of her statement in the painful silence of the room, and she finds it nearly impossible to look you in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time. 
Her words slowly sink in, rendering you momentarily speechless as you simply blink a few times. Your eyebrows sit higher up now, aiding your slack jaw in conveying the surprise you feel. You have to fight the urge to shove her; had you reverted back to being the less mature version of yourself from your teenage years, you would've done so in a heartbeat. But you're older now, and you realize your words and actions have consequences; clearly she hasn't learned that quite yet.
"Lisa, I'm gonna make this as simple as I can for you: if you ever say something like that to me again, we're going to have some real problems… You're such an asshole."
"I shouldn't have--"
"No, you shouldn't have. But you did. And I don't know what the hell has gotten into you lately, but it needs to stop."
"I'm sorry."
Her apology feels meaningless right now, and it falls on deaf ears. You don't allow yourself to believe she means it -- maybe she does, maybe she doesn't; regardless, she might try to sweet talk her way into forgiveness if you stay here right now, and you can't let that happen. "I don't think it's smart for me to be here -- not after that. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk to me when you get back to the dorm later, either." The conversation sounds more formal than you're used to with Lisa, but it's fitting given everything that's happened. Her eyes remain trained on the floor as she nods sheepishly; she's ashamed of herself.
When you stride over to retrieve your coat from its resting spot, the sound of your shoes hitting the hardwood echo around the rehearsal room, serving as the only noise to cut through the tense silence. It's like a hot knife through butter, and Lisa feels her heart break a little more with each passing second. Your footfalls are a bit heavier than normal now, and you pop your knuckles out of habit to soothe yourself. 
She stops herself from reaching out to you as you brush past her on your way to the door. Had things gone her way, none of this would've happened at all: she even planned to apologize and attempt to make things official with you tonight -- but life always seems to deny us of what we want most. 
The handle's smooth surface rests in your palm as you linger in the doorway, keeping your back turned to her. You're not sure what you're even waiting for in the first place. When Lisa remains silent, unable to think of a fitting way to rectify the situation, you nod to yourself and slip out of the room. 
The dancer releases a breath now that she's alone, and she runs her hands over her face. Her dislike for Jung-hoon was never meant to override her love for you, and it sure as hell wasn't meant to get in between the two of you. In some ways, Lisa's still that young girl she used to be when you first met as trainees: she still gets jealous and annoyed when she doesn't get what she wants, and although the years have made her far more mature than what she once was, old habits truly do die hard. She blames herself for hurting you, but she doesn't blame herself for disliking him. On one hand, you're completely innocent in the situation and undeserving of what she put you through -- she should have trusted you; but on the other, she can't help but be angry at him for trying to steal you away. You're hers, if only in her dreams, and he has no right to flirt with you like that. 
So, with hundreds of thoughts swirling around in her mind, Lisa decides to do what she does best; for the next couple hours, she remains at the studio, releasing the pent up tension and frustration she's been holding in for so long.
~~~~
Back At The Blackpink Dorm
"Can today get any worse?" You groan loudly, tugging at your hair out of frustration. The worn pages of your song book flutter slightly as you push it off of your lap, sending it onto the bed with a soft thump. A couple minutes later you hear movement in the hallway, and you decide to investigate. Carefully, you feel your way through the dark and eventually reach your bedroom door, which you subsequently open. 
"Help me look for some candles, please." Jisoo requests from the hallway, just a little ways away from you. A small flashlight is clutched in her hand, and its surprisingly bright beam does well in illuminating the shelves of the closet as she searches through it. You retrieve a spare light from her before making your way down the hall to search the bathroom. 
"We probably won't have power until tomorrow night; maybe even later. The storm caused a blackout and parts of the grid are down right now. At least that's what management told me." She informs, raising her voice slightly so you can hear her well. She doesn't have to try too hard, though, considering a blanket of silence has fallen over the dorm; with no power, no appliances offer any background noise to drown out the jarring quietness.
Steady sheets of rain pound against the window of the bathroom, momentarily stealing your attention away from the task at hand. As inconvenient as storms of this caliber can be, it's hard not to be in awe of the power of mother nature; occasionally, bolts of lightning streak across the sky in various places, offering a peek at the angry clouds that loom overhead. It's almost like peering into another world: the vivid colors of the lightning contrast with the darkness of the sky, making it appear as a raging sea as the clouds trek across it in waves. 
"I'm already cold." The distant sound of Jennie's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you release a sigh as you draw open more cabinets. She and Rosé are now seemingly out in the hallway, talking with Jisoo about the storm and how you're all going to deal with it. For a moment you wonder why Lisa hasn't joined them; perhaps she's asleep and didn't even notice the power go out. 
Unbeknownst to you, the maknae hasn't done much of anything besides overthinking. Ever since she came home earlier, she's abided by your wishes: she kept quiet during dinner, and retreated to her room without so much as a word to you. It hasn't been easy by any means, and her heart has been aching to apologize to you -- she wants to make things right, but upsetting you further isn't a risk she's willing to take. So now, she lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she listens to your other members talk out in the hall. 
"I found these," you approach them, holding up a few medium sized candles that Rosé bought for when you guys need a spa day. 
"Ah, not the good ones!" She whines, disappointed that the luxury items have to be wasted for such a lame purpose. 
"We could always just sit in the dark," you remind her with a chuckle, quirking a small smile at how she's acting. She seems to forget that you guys are rich and completely capable of getting plenty more of them. 
"No, I'll order more," she sighs, adding, "...just don't use all of them." 
"Aye aye, captain," you salute, grinning wider when she lets out a soft laugh. 
"Let's go set the stuff up in the living room," Jisoo says, slipping in between the two of you on her way. When you raise an eyebrow at the other girls, Jennie speaks up, "We might as well just hang out there. We can stay warmer that way and not die of boredom." 
You cock your head to the side and nod after considering the offer, quickly deciding that you have nothing better to do anyway. "What about Lisa?" You ask, the waver in your voice going unnoticed by either of them. From inside her room, Lisa holds her breath, tensing up as she waits to hear their answer. 
"I think she's sleeping, so we don't have to wake her up right now. She'll realize it's out eventually." 
You seem to accept her answer, and Lisa relaxes into the cushions of her bed as she hears three sets of footsteps getting further and further away. There's no way she can face you yet -- she's still working on a good enough apology. Besides, pretending that everything's okay was hard enough at dinner -- the girls were growing suspicious, so it's only a matter of time before they ask about it. None of you like to see each other sad, but there really seems to be a soft spot in all of their hearts for you: they always try to keep you happy and protected in order to repay you for taking such good care of them. You may not be the oldest unnie, but you're dedicated to your members, and their loyalty isn't something to be taken lightly. That undisputed fact works to make Lisa even more nervous; she knows she's been bad to you, and the girls aren't afraid to give her a piece of their minds. Their combined disappointment is only rivaled by her own, and she knows she'll have to work hard to get things back to where they used to be with you. 
~~~~~
As you wash your hands in the bathroom sink, you take in the sight of your reflection staring back at you. Bags rest underneath your eyes from what little sleep you've gotten so far, not quite dark enough to make you cringe but visible enough to show that things aren't going your way. You and the girls spent what was left of the evening chatting and playing board games to keep yourselves entertained, but eventually sleep became unavoidable and you retired to the large pillow fort that the 4 of you had constructed earlier. Without any power going to the dorm's heater, you've been forced to rely on extra blankets and each other's body heat to stay warm. 
A glance at your watch lets you know that it's a little after 3AM now, and you can only hope to fall back asleep soon. Your mind is exhausted from all the thinking you've been doing -- the toll it's taking on you coming through as a physical pain, pulsing steadily to remind you of everything that's happened -- but somehow sleep doesn't seem to be attainable. Despite being so drained, your body and mind would rather stay at odds than just compromise and let you rest. It's like something is telling you to stay awake -- like some quiet voice with ulterior motives is calling on you to look beyond yourself and fight sleep. Whatever the reason may be, you're annoyed with it. 
Frigid water meets your face, stealing the warmth away from your cheeks as it slides its way downward. You lean against the sink, sighing softly as your chilly fingers press into your temples and rub small circles into the skin there. The storm continues to rage on outside, drawing parallels to the war being waged in your heart. You're torn. Part of you is so overcome with the love you hold for Lisa that you just want to forget she even said anything at all -- you almost care more about having things go back to the way they once were than the fact that she's been breaking your heart more and more everyday. But another part of you is tired of her shit -- she shouldn't be able to get away with saying that to you, and you're strong enough to stay away from her until she steps up and makes things right. It's hard, no doubt, to keep your distance when she's the one person you want to be with most in this world, but you respect yourself enough to set a standard for what type of treatment you're willing to accept. 
As if on cue, a loud burst of thunder roars out, quite literally shaking the house with how strong it is. You jump, feeling your blood run cold at the unexpected scare. A yelp from the living room can be heard, and you have to bite your lip to contain the snicker that threatens to escape; you love Jennie to death and hate to see her frightened, but sometimes it's funny. Comfort comes to the brunette in the form of soothing words groggily whispered by the other girls as they hold her close. 
For what seems to be the millionth time tonight, Lisa crosses your mind; should you check on her? Despite what Jennie had suggested earlier, the maknae failed to leave her room at all. You wonder if she's cold; surely she is, considering she didn't have many blankets in her room to bury herself under. Worrying is apparently your strong suit, because the thought of her staying curled up in bed to grant your wishes, alone and shivering, saddens you beyond belief and convinces you to see how she's doing. 
After drying your face and hands, you sneak back to the living room and grab the fluffiest blanket you can find. Your feet dodge the creaky spots in the floorboards, having already memorized them after years of tiptoeing to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning for snacks. Before long, you stand in front of her door and attempt to prepare yourself.
Lisa's eyes fly closed as she hears the door to her room being opened. The weathered metal hinges groan slightly with effort; over the years, it's been thrown open in times of excitement and subjected to it's fair share of slamming during arguments. 
She does her best to play the part, but her act almost falters when she feels your soft hand brush her hair out of her face. The pad of your thumb strokes her cheek slowly, and she can practically feel all the emotion your gaze holds. Her eyes remain closed as you reach out to feel her arms, making sure they aren't frozen solid from being exposed to the chilly air. The fact that you still care enough to make sure she's comfortable makes her feel even more guilty, and her eyelashes have to work twice as hard to keep her tears from escaping. They dampen as the salty liquid builds up, serving as a dam that could break at any moment, but thankfully you don't notice. You splay the cover over her and tuck it slightly, leaving her plenty of room for movement -- you remember her telling you in passing that she doesn't like being tucked in completely because it makes her feel restricted. 
Her breath hitches as your hands fiddle with the collar of her shirt, fixing the ruffled material so that it covers her better. The bed dips as you sit down next to her, letting your eyes trail over her body. 
"How can you sleep right now?" You whisper out, thinking she's lightyears away in dreamland. A stray tear rolls down your cheek, but you're quick to wipe it away. 
"You're so stupid Lisa," you breathe out, releasing your lip from between your teeth. "I can't believe you think I'd want to be with Jung-hoon and not you."
"But hey," you say with a bitter laugh, the sound almost inaudible in its softness, "I guess I'm the oblivious one, right?" 
After spending a few more moments torturing yourself, you slowly stand up and return the blankets to the state they had been in before you sat down. Unable to resist the urge any longer, you lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. You have no idea where the two of you will stand with one another when she wakes up, and you want to have this memory before you're forced to be at odds again. 
As you push your tired body up, prepared to turn around and leave, you're instead met with her deep brown eyes peering up at you.
You freeze, feeling your muscles tense up as the tears in her eyes become more visible. Her features look even more beautiful now, somehow, in the pale moonlight that streams into the room. It's lustrous, seeming to sparkle as it casts down on her perfectly, kissing every inch of exposed skin that it can. She looks like a dream, and for a second you wonder if you're just imagining this. Her skin appears even softer than usual in the gentle glow of the room, but she looks as striking as ever with her defined collarbone and sharp jawline standing out. You feel her hand brush against your wrist, and you're reminded of all the times she would draw you in close and kiss you until you were breathless. 
"How much of that did you hear?" You swallow, a slight nervousness taking over now as you run a hand through your hair. 
"Enough," she utters simply, indulging herself in a few more seconds of the intimate staring contest you were in before breaking eye contact to sit up in bed. She leans back against the headboard and pulls her feet in some to give you plenty of room to sit. Selfishly, she wishes you'd sit right next to her again; she can't say she's surprised when you put a little space between the two of you though, opting to sit further down on the mattress. 
Neither of you say anything for a little while, too busy trying to locate the right words and how to phrase them. The situation is delicate, and neither of you want to mess it up; Lisa's more afraid to speak than you are, but she eventually finds her voice.
"I know sorry doesn't cut it, nor does it solve anything. But I really am sorry. I didn't mean for it to come out how it did, and I haven't been treating you right for awhile now."
"You can say that again," you quip, nodding singularly. 
She sighs, a bit discouraged by your demeanor but still just as determined. 
"Seeing you with him just scared me, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but that's exactly what I was. When I saw the way he was looking at you and sitting so close… it just hurt. A lot. I like you more than I want to admit, and you're completely capable of pulling anyone you want. Especially a 2 like Jung-hoon." 
You almost smile at that last part: even when apologizing, she can't help but clown on him. 
"That was a fucked up thing to say, back at the studio. It made me feel cheap, Lisa, and I never thought you would be someone who'd make me feel like that. I don't care if it was in the heat of the moment or not -- it was uncalled for." It feels good to finally voice your feelings to her, and you don't waste time by skirting around them or softening the blow.
"You're right, and I wish you could understand how much I regret it. I wanted to run after you so bad… you have no idea. I regretted it the second it came out of my mouth." She hangs her head now, feeling the shame rise in her at the thought of her past actions.
"You can dislike Jung-hoon as much as you want, but you're right about one thing: you have no right to be jealous. I refuse to be your reason for hating someone, especially when your logic is as flawed as it is." 
She can sense that you have more to say, and she's more than willing to listen; so, she waits for you to continue. 
"First of all, you and I aren't dating, Lisa. And even knowing that, you still didn't trust me, evidently. I don't owe you anymore of an explanation than the other girls, but I'll give it since you seem to want it so bad: we really did just work on the song. He was nice to me and treated me well, but he never overstepped or made me uncomfortable. Regardless of whether he likes me or not, he was kind; the same can't be said for you." Your voice is taut with the pain you've been through because of her, and the brutal honesty behind your words hangs heavy in the air. 
"I deserve that one. But can you please try to see it from my point of view? When you're in love with someone, it's easy to get jealous," your heart pounds harder at her use of that four letter word, but you don't let it show, "...especially when the other person isn't even yours to begin with. At least that's how it works for me. I feel like I have to work extra hard to keep your focus on me, because I'm afraid anyone can come by and take you away. You have no obligation to even be with me."
"I may not have an obligation to, Lisa, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. Do you know how excited I was to finally get home and see you and the girls that night? I was dying to pull you into the kitchen and sneak a kiss when I was grabbing my plate. But you'd never know that, because you cared more about your insecurities than believing me."
"Wow." Your confession surprises her, and the simple utterance is all she can manage at the moment.
"Yeah." You say, solidifying your words. 
"I really am an idiot, aren't I?"
"To put it kindly, yes."
She pauses for a beat or two to really process your words. "Can we get past this?" She asks gently, playing with the frilly edge of the blanket you brought in earlier that's now worked its way down into her lap.
"I think so," you say honestly, releasing a steadying breath, "but you have to work for it." 
"I will, everyday. I want us to be okay again." 
"I do too, Lis. I really do." Her gaze softens at the nickname, and she can tell you're being truthful. 
"Can I ask you something?" 
"You just did." 
"I-" She starts, only to be cut off by the small giggle you let out.
"Shoot, Manoban."
"Does this mean I can ask you to be my girlfriend?" She notices the way your face falls as you begin to stutter out a response, so she quickly clarifies, "Eventually?" 
"Eventually," you affirm, thankful that she understood that you're not quite ready yet. You crack a small smile as you say, "So long as you don't give me a reason to say no in the meantime." 
The two of you share a much needed laugh, happy to finally begin clearing the air between you. 
Not long after, Lisa says, "One more thing, Y/N." 
You lift your head to look at her and respond, but her lips meet yours before you get the chance to say a word. The surprised noise you make is muffled, but it soon gives way to something crossed between a sigh and moan as her hand travels up your thigh. It rests there, the heat of her palm seeping through the material of your pants as she waits to see how you react, still pressing innocent kisses to your lips. She wants to continue, but you deserve to control the situation. 
Wordlessly, you tilt her head to the side to deepen the kiss, languidly moving your tongue against hers. It's a dance you've spent hours practicing before, and your bodies fall back into the familiar rhythm they've been craving for the past week and a half. When you take her hand and lead it under your shirt, allowing her to touch wherever she pleases, she lets out a guttural noise of approval that has you pressing your thighs together in search of friction. Already, Y/N? You think to yourself; she's barely touched you and you're already so responsive.
Lisa smiles at the shuddered breath she feels you release, and she tugs at your bottom lip to tease you further. 
"If you keep this up, that 'eventually' will come sooner rather than later," you say shakily, swallowing as you press your lips together. They taste like her, and you're convinced you're addicted. 
She lets out a throaty chuckle at that, the action garnering a smile from you. Your cheeks are flushed, and she secretly loves the effect she has on you.
"You're beautiful," she declares, the smile on her lips coming through in the phrase. She strokes your cheek with the back of her hand, and you let out a little "pshh" sound at her sweet comment. Taking compliments has never been something you're very good at.
Determined to show you that she's genuine, she takes your hand and places it against her chest, right over her heart. It beats wildly, untamed and unpredictable as her emotions course through her. "It always gets like this when I'm around you. I can't control it; you just drive me crazy." 
"You're really trying to kill me, huh? Soft Lisa is far hotter than petty Lisa, just so you know." You say, wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands tighten around your waist as she pulls you into her lap, slowly grinning at your confession. 
"Noted. Now come here, baby." 
You close what little distance is left between you, not having to be told twice. Her lips move in time with yours as she flips you over, laying you on your back beside her. In your preoccupied state, you don't even realize that she's tucked your legs under the blankets and brought the material up to cover the two of you. 
"I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'm done being an ass." 
"It's about time," you joke, rolling your eyes. "Better get to work if you want to lose your status as a dickhead by the end of this century." 
"Hey! Century? That's a little long, don't you think?"
"Tread lightly, Lisa," you warn, half teasing and half threatening. She catches a hint of the menacing look you send her way, and quickly gets her act together. 
"Yes ma'am." She nods, attempting to contain the smile that tugs at her lips by pressing them against yours again. 
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cooliogirl101 · 3 years
Note
so what happened with nana and shamal? are they a less intense version of gin and hisana? 🤔
The first time Shamal sets eyes on Nana Fujiwara, he is convinced he’s seen an angel. He takes in the warmth of her eyes, the silkiness of her hair, the way she smells like white tea and jasmine, and he leaps at her with welcoming arms, ready to embrace her and press himself against those soft, inviting curves.
He’s promptly enveloped in an enormous cloud of pepper spray. That basically sets the tone for the next two years of their relationship.
In general, Nana likes to think of herself as someone who gets along pretty well with people. She knows she has a bit of a temper, but she tries her best to keep it under control and to remain patient, calm, and understanding. 
That all goes out the window when it comes to Trident Shamal.
There are a lot of things about Shamal that she hates. She hates the way he leers at and chases after every girl he finds attractive. She hates his stupid, perverted grin and she hates the stupid, dopey look he gets on his face every time she sees him, and she hates his stupid, fucking ridiculous rule about ‘not treating men.’
Most of all though, she hates how he gets away with it. How every single member of the administration simply laughs it off, telling her it’s “just some harmless flirting, don’t worry about it.” One professor tells her she should be flattered and she almost commits homicide right then and there. 
Then to top everything off, she can’t even avoid him because as the top two members of their class, they always end up getting paired together for projects, which was...just typical. 
Honestly, Nana thinks the fact that she hasn’t killed him yet is an enormous testament to her self control. She could probably put that on her resume under ‘special skills’-- has refrained from murdering classmate (was there a word for that? Classmate-cide? Peer-tricide?) despite being given literally hundreds of reasons to do so. 
Not to say she hasn’t imagined doing so. Vividly. She ended up doodling so many scenarios that she had to get a second notebook. 
~~
Any other day, and Shamal would have been thrilled to have Nana Fujiwara, the loveliest, prettiest, most adorable girl in his class, knocking on his door. Any other day and he would’ve been more than happy to wax poetic about her beautiful smile, her fiery personality, her large, doe-like eyes, the soft curve to those plump, inviting lips, the-- well, the list goes on. 
Right now however, he hadn’t showered in three (or was it four?) days, he was drenched in his own sweat, he was running a fever of 39.5 C, his head was throbbing painfully, everything hurt, and to top everything off, the room smelled strongly of vomit. 
“Shamal, I know you’re in there! Open up!” Shamal groaned miserably, covering his eyes with one arm as the pounding at the door caused his headache to go from ‘someone trying to drive an iron spike through my head’ to ‘iron spike is now on fire and accompanied by a hundred tiny hammers, please kill me now.’ 
“Goddammit Shamal, you were supposed to send me the draft of your half of the project three days ago! Open the door!” Nana continued to shout through the door. “I swear to god, if you don’t open up, I will kick your door down, don’t think I won’t--oh.”
Nana blinked, irritated scowl melting away at the sight of his appearance. She frowned, a touch of concern creeping into her expression.
“Are you...okay?” She asked hesitantly. It was the first time he’d heard Nana Fujiwara sound hesitant and Shamal hated it. 
Summoning up whatever last reserves of strength he had left, Shamal put on his best flirtatious grin, eyes curving up into crescents. 
“Aww, you don’t have to be worried about me, beautiful!” He cooed, then clenched his teeth as he felt his stomach swoop nauseatingly. “I’ll be fine, just had a lil’ too much to drink last night.” He leaned casually against the doorframe, which had the added benefit of keeping him mostly upright. “I just need to sleep it off and then--”
“Yeah no, you’re clearly not okay. Stupid question,” Nana murmured, clearly ignoring everything he’d just said. She stepped closer, placing a hand against his forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Come on, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No!” He shouted. Nana flinched, startled, and Shamal cursed under his breath. He hadn’t meant to do that. 
“No,” he repeated, calmer this time. “No hospitals. I’ll be fine.”
“Shamal--” Nana began. 
“They won’t be able to do anything,” he interrupted. “I’ve been through this before, I know how it goes. I just need to wait it out.” He swallowed. “Going to a hospital won’t help. Please, Nana, I--”
He suddenly doubled over, retching violently the rest of his words disappearing under a river of vomit. Shamal had just enough time to see Nana’s eyes widen before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness. 
~~
Shamal woke up to gentle hands dabbing at his face with a cool washcloth, the pleasant scent of white tea and jasmine, a familiar voice murmuring soft reassurances in his ear.
“Shhh, you’re okay. It’s just me,” the voice whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Nana?” Shamal asked, fighting to stay awake. “You stayed.”
There was a pause.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “Yeah. I stayed.” 
~~
Honestly, Nana had no idea what possessed her to actually listen to her obviously sick, half-delirious, idiot classmate instead of doing the reasonable thing, which would’ve been to dump him at the nearest hospital. 
Maybe it was the fact that he’d actually called her by her name for once, instead of some stupid pet name. Maybe it was the fact that she knew firsthand how miserable hospitals could be and could sympathize with his desire to avoid them at all cost. Or maybe it was the fact that she recognized the tone of voice he’d used when he’d told her that there was nothing the doctors could do to help him-- the kind of resigned certainty that could only come from experience, of having your hopes dashed over and over. It was a tone of voice she was well acquainted with. 
(“I’m sorry Christina, there’s nothing more we can do.”)
It could have been any one of those reasons, or all three of them. She tried not to think too much about it. 
It took another two days before Shamal’s fever started coming down and three before he started sounding halfway coherent again. On the fourth, she found him sitting in bed with his breakfast untouched on the nightstand next to him.
“Is something wrong?” Nana asked, frowning. “Are you feeling nauseous again?” When he shook his head, she continued, “I can make something else if you don’t like--”
“Why?” Shamal interrupted. 
“Why what?” Nana asked, puzzled. “Why did I make eggs? I was looking up things that are good to eat when you’re sick and I came across a recipe for Chinese steamed eggs. I wish I knew about this before, I mean like it provides protein but it’s soft like a custard so you don’t have to chew much and--”
“No, why-- why do all this? Why go to this much trouble for me?” Shamal demanded, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The cooking, and the-- the washing, and you even cleaned up my apartment, and I don’t-- I don’t understand why--”
“Well, what was I supposed to do, just leave your unconscious body lying there on Death’s front doorstep?” Nana asked uncomprehendingly. 
“I threw up on you!” Shamal snapped, sounding mortified. 
“Yeah, you aren’t the first person to throw up on me, and you won’t be the last,” she responded dryly. “I’d be in the wrong line of work if I let a little vomit get to me.”
When he still refused to meet her eyes, she sighed. 
“Look Shamal, I may not like you-- actually, I can’t stand you-- but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer like this. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that.” 
No one deserved to feel like their body was failing them. Nana swallowed, forcing her voice to remain steady. 
“I was in a position to help, and so I did,” she said quietly. “It’s as simple as that.”
“...as simple as that,” Shamal echoed. “You truly mean that, don’t you? No favors, no debts, just--” He laughed, a little disbelievingly. “You’d go above and beyond the call of duty even for those you hate, just because it was the right thing to do.” He shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “You really are something else, Nana Fujiwara.”
Nana glanced away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure if he was just acting weird due to the lingering fever, or-- or dizziness from missing breakfast, but something about the way he was looking at her in that moment--
“I should take your temperature again, it’s been over eight hours since I last checked it,” she said abruptly. “I think I left the thermometer in the other room, wait here.” She marched off and tried to ignore how it felt like running away. “Eat your eggs.” 
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heliads · 3 years
Text
If I Can’t Have You
Based on this request: “one shot of Wanda and the reader are married and Agatha likes the reader and creates problem in their relationship. one day the reader and Wanda were fighting, the reader leaves to find Agatha who controls the reader to fall in love with her. Wanda finds the reader and removes the mind control.”
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Agnes walks down the sun-bleached sidewalk, arms full of a stack of hardbacks that most certainly were not transformed spellbooks. Of course they weren’t- she is Agnes now, not Agatha, and even nosy neighbours would never be caught dead studying incantations. She has to keep up the illusion of innocence, and that is final.
Agnes’ cheerful grin slips when her eye catches on something in the bushes. They should be drab shades of gray (they’re still stuck in the 50s, no matter how much Agnes wishes they would just change decades already), but there’s a flash of color inside them. Agnes groans. Is Wanda’s control disintegrating so quickly? Agnes gestures towards the bush ever so slightly, and the color fades back to black and white in a second, with only a flash of purple dancing around Agnes’ fingertips to show that anything had changed.
However, in the split second that Agnes’ focus had been diverted away, her tall stack of books had begun to slide out of her arms. Agnes reaches out to steady the pile once more, but it’s too late- the books cascade to the ground, spilling out over the pale concrete. Agnes kneels, ignoring the spike of heat slicing up her knees from the sunburned sidewalk, and begins to gather up the books. To her surprise, a second figure leans down beside her, picking up the scattered hardbacks as well.
When Agnes looks up, her breath catches slightly in her throat. There’s someone standing over them, sun shining out in a halo over their head. A smile flashes across their face as they hold out the remaining books. “I’m Y/N. I don’t think we’ve been able to meet before.” Agnes shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. I would have remembered you, hon. The name’s Agnes.” Y/N grins, teeth flashing in the sun. “It’s nice to meet you, Agnes. I think we’re neighbours- I live down the block with my wife, Wanda. Great to make some new friends.”
Agnes clears her throat. “Well, thank you for your help.” Y/N tilts their head in acknowledgement. “Well, I figured I might as well do something quickly. Wanda’s right down the block, and I don’t think you would have wanted her to see you summon up some purple sparks to retrieve the books.” Agnes stares. “You-” Y/N waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to say anything. I saw you fix that hedge, so clearly you’re here to help. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s keep a secret for a friend. See you around, Agnes.”
With that, Y/N heads back down the sidewalk, footsteps echoing down the concrete path. Agnes is left staring. Y/N knew about the magic and Y/N is married to Wanda, yet they aren’t going to say anything? As Agnes walks back to her house, she realizes there’s a new feeling of rage bubbling up in her stomach against the red-haired witch. It’s not just envy of Wanda’s chaos magic. No, this is something different. It takes Agatha a while to realize what it is, and then it occurs to her. She’s jealous that Wanda has Y/N in her life every day.
Agatha can’t take this feeling of envy for much longer. She begins small spells targeting Wanda and Y/N’s marriage, ones that will sow seeds of discontent that will draw Y/N to Agatha instead. At first, they’re barely noticeable- traffic is bad so Y/N arrives home later and later each day, Wanda keeps forgetting to keep a space out for Y/N at the dinner table. Then, it’s time for Agatha’s magnum opus- one thunderous rain storm that forces Y/N to dash into Agatha’s house to escape the torrential showers.
Y/N only has to knock a couple of times before Agatha opens her door, quickly ushering the drenched neighbour into her house. Y/N apologizes profusely, but Agatha just shakes her head. “It’s fine, trust me. I’d rather you stay in here for a while and dry up than have to run home in this sort of weather.” She hands Y/N a blanket, which they accept gratefully, wrapping around their shoulders.
Y/N gets distracted by a bookcase in the corner of the room, a deep mahogany number with intricate carvings detailing the sides. “You have a good collection of books here. Rivals even my own.” A faint smile slips across their face as they examine the titles, a warmth in their eyes as if greeting dozens of old friends. At last, Y/N’s finger stops over one book in particular, and they carefully draw it out from amongst the others.
Agatha leans over to Y/N, curious. “Which book is that?” Y/N delicately opens the cover, poring over the detailed illustrations and long swoops of text. “Greek mythology. I’ve always been a fan.” Y/N flips through the pages, stopping before one particularly beautiful depiction of a myth. In the drawing, a goddess lies desolate over the body of a lover, roses beginning to form where blood pools from their body.
“Aphrodite and Adonis. That’s a classic. The goddess of love and the queen of the underworld both fell in love with this one mortal hero, Adonis, and they fought over him for a long time.” Agatha furrows her brow. “What happened?” Y/N shakes their head sadly. “Adonis ended up dead, killed by a boar. The stories differ over the killing- some versions say it was Ares, Aphrodite’s husband, or it could have been Persephone herself, jealous that Adonis was falling in love with her rival. Either way, he ended up dead and they both ended up unhappy.”
Y/N sighs. “There are a lot of myths like that, actually. Two gods fall for one lover and in the resulting fight, the world seems to be torn apart. Something similar happened with Hercules and the river god Achelous over Deianeira, actually. Every time, two fall in love with one, and every time, violence always follows. If one god couldn’t have their lover, then nobody could. It never made sense to me. Why tear apart the world over love? Besides, it always hurt the lover, who never had any choice in the matter. A waste, honestly.”
Y/N closes the book and glances outside the window. “Look, it stopped raining. I will stop intruding on your hospitality with my sad Greek myths and leave you to your afternoon.” Agatha starts to raise her voice to protest, to say that Y/N could never be a waste of time, but Y/N is already donning her coat and slipping out the door with a raised hand and a final declaration of gratitude.
Wanda waits for Y/N when they get home. She stands in the middle of the living room, just waiting for when her spouse walks through the door. Y/N has barely closed the door behind them when they see their wife, and their smile fades. “What’s wrong, Wanda? You look upset.” Wanda’s gaze remains steady, bordering on harsh. “I wonder why that would be. I wonder why my spouse would show up late again, especially when I asked them to be here early for dinner.”
Y/N gestures loosely at the door behind them. “I couldn’t go anywhere! It was raining so hard I could barely see two feet in front of me. Here, you can see my jacket, my hair, they’re wet-” Y/N’s voice breaks off as they reach for their coat and find it perfectly dry. They rush to the window, but there is no sign of rain. No puddles, no clouds, nothing. Y/N turns back to Wanda, a look of bewilderment fogging up their eyes.
“I have no idea what happened. I swear, it was raining, but now there’s nothing there at all.” Wanda raises an eyebrow. “Yes, that’s very convincing, isn’t it? A magically disappearing rainstorm apparent only to you.” Y/N tilts their head, irritation beginning to show. “Don’t use that tone. I would never lie to you. This is just strange. Something is happening and I can’t understand it.” They throw their arms up in frustration, but just as they raise their hands, Wanda flinches. It’s a small movement, barely there at all, but it’s enough for Y/N to notice. Instantly, all annoyance fades from their face, replaced by swift betrayal.
“You flinched- you thought I would-” Y/N’s voice is quiet, barely there at all. Wanda shakes her head fervently. “I didn’t mean that. It was an accident.” Y/N looks back at their wife, expression bleak. “It wasn’t an accident, though. You thought I would hit you? You truly think so little of me?” Y/N turns around, grabbing their coat from the door once more. “I think I should go. I think that would be best for both of us.”
Wanda reaches out to stop Y/N from leaving, but her spouse has already disappeared through the front door. A quiet gasp comes from the stairs behind Wanda, and she turns to see Billy and Tommy clustered together on the stairs, twin looks of horror on their faces. Billy is the first to speak. “Are they leaving us?” Wanda rushes over to them, hurrying in her apologies. “Of course not. Everyone has disagreements, you know? It’s impossible to be perfectly happy forever. Y/N is going to come back very soon, and we’re going to talk things out again. That’s what makes us love each other, you know. We always come back to each other in the end.”
Wanda’s voice is light and untroubled, but her children still don’t look entirely convinced. In fact, Wanda doesn’t even look convinced herself. After Billy and Tommy retreat back upstairs to their rooms, Wanda walks slowly to the kitchen and sits down at the table, placing her head in her hands. What has she done? What if Y/N really doesn’t come back?
Y/N regrets storming out of the house as soon as the front door closes behind them. They want nothing more than to go back inside and apologize, but they’ve always had too much pride to swallow. So, they walk out of their house, heading out into the street. Maybe they’ll go into town for a while, shoot the breeze and cool down, and then come back home and make things right. Y/N has never been able to stay away from Wanda for too long, especially during an argument. That’s what made them work so well together- they always returned to each other.
However, Y/N hasn’t gone more than a couple of feet down the road when someone walks up to them. Y/N glances over, recognizing Agnes. “Look, I’m sorry but I don’t really want to talk right now. I’ve already messed things up with Wanda, I think it’s best that I stay by myself for a while.” Agatha’s smile doesn’t falter for a second. “Of course you want to come with me, hon. You love me.” 
Y/N frowns, but with a wave of Agatha’s hand a violet streak flashes across Y/N’s eyes and a relaxed smile spreads across their face. “I do love you.” Agatha holds out her hand, and Y/N takes it without a second’s hesitation. Agatha glances over at Y/N, considering them. “Actually, I think we need one more spell. I can’t have Wanda recognizing you, after all.” Agatha murmurs a spell under her breath, and Y/N’s features ripple and change into an entirely different face. Even if Wanda happened to see Y/N walking with Agatha, she would have no idea who they were.
Wanda is growing more uneasy as the hours pass by. Y/N should have returned by now, they should have made up by now. The fact that they aren’t here tells Wanda that something is wrong. Wanda knows it must be the aftereffects of the argument, but yet there’s something in the back of her head telling Wanda that there might be some foul play. After a while, Tommy slips into the room, pausing as he walks by Wanda.
“Are you still looking for Y/N?” Wanda nods, then frowns at Tommy’s tone. “What do you mean, still? Do you know where she is?” Tommy shakes his head, but he hesitates slightly. Wanda jumps on this uncertainty like a lion. “Tommy, love, I need you to tell me where Y/N is. We both know something isn’t right, don’t we? This is really important.”
Tommy still deliberates, but after frantic glances from Wanda he finally relents. “I was running past Agnes’ house and I saw someone in there. I had never seen them before, and Billy says that nobody new has come into town. It didn’t look like Y/N, but it was still strange.” Wanda swoops forward, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “Thank you so much for telling me. I’ll go look into that right away. Stay here with Billy, alright? I’ll be back in a second.”
The methodical rhythm of Wanda’s boots echoes down the street as she heads purposefully to Agnes’ house. She knocks a couple of times before the door opens, and Wanda is face to face with an utterly unfamiliar person. Wanda blinks in confusion. “Hi, I’m Wanda. I was looking for someone.” The stranger in Agnes’ house smiles. “Well, come on inside. Maybe you’ll find them here.”
Wanda nods, following the stranger inside. “What’s your name, by the way?” Wanda asks, and the stranger just looks at her. “I wasn’t given a name.” There’s a moment of tension, like the stranger is almost begging Wanda to realize something, but then their face smooths over and everything returns to normal. Wanda is shown to a seat in the living room, and she stares around Agnes’ house. She reaches out with her mind, searching for Y/N, but nothing happens.
The stranger bustles back into the room. “Agnes is out, but she’ll be back in a little bit. Is there anything I can do for you right now?” Wanda shakes her head, standing up. “Actually, I don’t think so. I’m sorry to waste your time.” Wanda starts to head to the door, but the stranger quickly walks in front of her, blocking her path. “Are you sure? I thought you were looking for someone.” The stranger is staring at them with a look so full of pain and hope that Wanda almost has to look away. What would the stranger want Wanda to know? What would they know, except-
Then Wanda realizes, and she reaches out a tentative hand to the stranger’s temples. Wanda concentrates for a second, searching, and then she feels the spell masking the stranger’s thoughts and pulls it away like she’s removing a blindfold. Instantly, the stranger straightens up, and they shudder for a second as their face changes into a more familiar countenance. Wanda cries out in relief, wrapping her arms around Y/N, for of course it is they who stand before her. 
“I thought you were missing- I thought you hated me-” Y/N holds tight to Wanda. “No. No, I could never. I tried to go back, but then the spell hit and I couldn’t do anything.” Y/N leans back, cupping Wanda’s face gently in her palm. “I’m so glad you found me. I was so scared that you wouldn’t know it was me.” Wanda smiles bittersweetly. “I will always come back to you. Every single time.”
Wanda and Y/N leave Agatha’s house, heading quickly back to their own home, back to their twin boys who look up excitedly when they see Y/N return. Wanda and Y/N do not notice Agatha, who just arrives at her house in time to see the married couple disappear back through their own front door. Agatha glares, storming into her house to see the hated truth- Y/N is indeed gone, the spell broken. In a moment of utter rage, Agatha lets her power flow through her, murky indigo smoke pouring over the room as walls crack and glasses break.
When Agatha is at last able to control herself, she stands panting in the middle of the room. Her eyes catch on a book that had been yanked from its shelf, a book that now lies open on the ground. Agatha’s eyes widen as she takes in that familiar drawing of the goddess and the lover, from the story Y/N had been talking about earlier. Aphrodite and Adonis, forced to repeat their pain once more.
But Agatha understands it now, understands it as Y/N had never been able to fully comprehend. Why shouldn’t the gods tear apart the world? This feeling in Agatha’s chest, this empty broken rage, will never be able to subside. Y/N loves Wanda, and Wanda loves Y/N. There is no room for Agatha in that story. 
A twisted, fractured smile begins to wend its way across Agatha’s lips. Before, she had been hesitant about messing too much with Wanda’s reality, but now, all rules are gone with Y/N. If Agatha can’t have Y/N, no one else will. Wanda doesn’t stand a chance.
wanda maximoff tag list: @mycosmicparadise​ @mionemymind​ @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​    
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wizkiddx · 3 years
Note
heyheyhey idk if u do req but love your dad tom stuff! PLZ PLZ do tom helping his kids with homework but cant do it and reader has to help and its all fluffy 😩💕
ye im down to do req and this had me going completely ott cos its v cute (and a lot less angsty than what ive written recently aha) so apologies for my ramblings:
Summary: tom has the kids for a day and maths homework throws a spanner in the works - tomhollandxreader
implied smut + v slight reference to porn but basically just fluff I promise xox
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Tom had dealt with a lot of whining today. Nova and Leo were the absolute joys of his life, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he also loved you a hell of a lot too - sometimes to his detriment though, hence the position he was in now. 
You’d had a busy week at work and he had been away for the first half of it - leaving you as an almost single mother to a 5 and a 7 year old. So completely fairly, you’d asked if he wouldn’t mind watching the kids for a the day on Sunday, allowing you to go to a friends baby shower. There was no answer but to agree, Tom loved quality time with the kids and he wanted you to kick back and relax with you friends too. 
However the afternoon had not been nearly as idealistic as it were supposed to be in his head. You had left him only one real job (apart from the unavoidable essentials of keeping the kids alive with food and water, something you’d hope he need not be reminded about now). Really it shouldn’t of been that hard, it was just each kid had two pieces of homework. After convincing and cajoling the kids into sitting at the table which he’d already set up with Nova’s ‘Liverpool FC’ and Leo’s ‘captain marvels’ pencil case, the English was easy. 
In fact 5 year old Leo took great joy out of writing a poem with his Dad, which basically involved trying to rhyme any word with another - especially when he tried to convince Tom that all his completely fictitious words were real and worked together. A personal favourite had been ‘snakes’ and ‘palakes’ which Leo was convinced meant pancakes - arguing so vehemently Tom almost started to doubt himself on basic English. 
Thankfully though his eldest and most sensibly child eventually took him out his misery. If anyone had any control over the Holland boys, Leo and Tom - it was the Holland girls. You and Nova had both boys completely under you spell, often taking advantage of the fact too. It was only when Nova got bored of hearing Tom and Leo mock arguing, interspersed with the little boys giggles that Tom tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face at, that she swooped in.
“Stop being silly Leo, mummy told you he’s not good at school!” She looked oh so innocent, eyes immediately flicking down to continue the little short story she was happily going on with. In response  Tom scowled, knowing your highly curious and intelligent daughter had asked you (for one reason or another) why he was not so academic. Yet instead of Leo bursting out laughing, instead he just nodded and accepted it too - making Tom scowl even more. Not even Leo thought it was a joke. 
So apart from his children apparently taking pity on his simple mind, it was all going smoothly. Perhaps, due to the thankful fact your children had inherited their brains from their mother - something Tom was forever thankful for, until he was shamed for his substandard intellect in the family. Then again though, he was Spiderman. So take that. 
Until Nova brought out her maths sheet. Then the afternoon quickly descended into chaos. It was fractions, something she hadn’t quite grasped from school yet - a concept that still hurt her head somewhat. Normally though it’d be fine, she’d bring the sheet to you and the two of you used ‘ girl power’ to figure it out… you prior experience as a tutor while in uni helping you know how to break through to her. 
Unfortunately Tom didn’t share this same experience. Nor did Tom share a maths qualification… something that had evaded him completely during his schooling career. Of course, it had never been a particular issue, acting didn’t require the use of maths and algebra and Tom was in a very lucky position of being able to pay someone to manage his finances from a very young age. So no, dividing 2/3 and 3/7 didn’t come the most naturally to him. Or at all to be quite honest. 
“I CANT DO IT AND GRACE IN MY CLASS COULD!” For context, Grace was one of her school friends, who forever liked to compare herself to the young Holland - especially because she was normally ahead. Nova had gone from quiet frustration, staring at the questions with her tongue sticking out slightly, to one of pure rage - yelling at her dad with tears in her eyes. Nova was normally incredibly intuitive, she always found it difficult when she couldn’t do something. Now, with a ‘teacher’ who was more useless than her - the frustrations inevitably bubbled over. 
“Hey, we can work it out, just calm-“
“YOU CANT DO IT EITHER YOUR STUPID “ She was just young and frustrated, Tom tried not to take it personally but … it wasn’t always easy. Chiefly because this was the height of offensive statement Nova knew - this was her version of adult explicit language. 
“Nova you can’t be rude.” He used his stern voice, something Tom very rarely used with his little girl. Though he never wanted to upset her, neither did he want her to think it was ever okay to be so rude to anyone like that- no matter how crappy at maths they were. It hurt him to do so but it was necessary - life lessons about the importance of being kind needed to be learnt. And it worked… if what Tom was aiming for was his beautiful baby girl’s eyes to brim with sparkling tears, her bottom lip quivering slightly. 
Instantly Tom’s eyebrows drooped, trying to fight his natural reaction to scoop her onto his knee and reassure her everything was okay. But as you had lectured him many a time before, he had to put his foot down once in a while. So instead, the father and daughter were locked in a silence and intense eye contact, until Nova hesitantly began to speak. 
“I’m sorry Daddy.” During which, Nova shoved her chair back, making it screech against the tiled floors uglily before running off up the stairs. Tom knew she was crying a lot. Knew this was going to take a bit of fixing. 
With a sigh of his daughters name, Tom popped his head into the living to check on Leo who had already finished all his stuff. Seeing him completely zombified in front of ‘paw patrol’ on TV, Tom trudged up the stairs. He knew where she was, when Nova was upset she always hid in the corner of her wardrobe and cried in the darkness. So after steadying himself with a little internal monologue of how to approach the situation Tom walked in and sat down beside the wardrobe - knocking on the door slightly. 
“Nova… can we talk please?” All he heard was sniffing echoing from the wooden chamber until she tried to shout through the door.
“Go-go… go away daddy.” It broke his heart, the way her voice wavered, making Tom pout - gently letting his head fall against the wardrobe doors. 
“I don’t want you to be upset beautiful…. And you did apologise which I appreciate. You know why Daddy got angry right?” Her sniffles heightened before she muttered a quiet ‘yes’. “And you are sorry? Because that might’ve made me really sad too.”
“I’m s-s-sorry, I didn’t mean it.”
“Then that’s good and we don’t need to cry. You want a cuddle little one?” Before Tom could even properly get up the door was being pushed open by her little hands, revealing a tear stained face and big glassy eyes looking up at her Dad. Swiftly Tom scooped her up and out of the cupboard, whispering to her while she buried her face in his chest. 
“Oh come here my little bean.”
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When you came home late that evening, only mildly exhausted from spending the whole day gossiping with your girls, it was weirdly quiet. All the lights were out in the front room, which made you close the door gently, thinking Tom had managed to exhaust the kids - and himself in the process. With a relieved sigh at the peace you pattered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink (it had been a little concern that Tom would’ve worked the kids into a hyperactive and delerious state that kept them up long past bedtime - which ultimately you’d have to deal with). The house was remarkably silent and though it was clear from the littered toys everywhere that it had indeed been Tom alone in charge, everything seemed pretty okay. 
It was only as you were about to head upstairs to join your hubby in bed that you realised the study light was still on, streaming through the small crack in the doorframe. Assuming Tom had just neglected to turn it off, in otherwords Tom being Tom, you nudged it open with your hand. Surprisingly though, there was your husband, hunched over the desk, looking almost angrily focused - between the computer screen and a piece of paper below him. Normally you would’ve just assumed it was another script sent over or an edit Harry had sent of another screenplay they were writing together. 
But no, the blatant red flag was the screen that you could see. A screen on YouTube, of a man pointing at a whiteboard of fractions. 
So with a soft wrist you wrapped your knuckled on the side of the door, even if you had technically already entered the room. The reaction had you stifling a laugh, it was as if you’d caught him watching something *less PG* the way he jumped out his seat, closing the browser immediately. 
“Love!! I -er … didn’t know you’d got back?”
“I just did.” You smiled gently, while walking into stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Soooo…. what’ca doingggg” The glee in your voice was evident, making Tom groan and shut his eyes. 
“I hate you, you know that right?” 
“No you don’t… but you were watching a primary school video on fractions, if I’m not so mistaken?” He sighed deeply, making a point of turning the paper with his scribbles over to obscure it. 
“Nova’s homework.. she couldn’t do it and neither could I, so then she basically screamed at me for being thick and udseless and then had a breakdown.” 
Now you felt guilty. This was a bit of a sore spot with Tom, he always for some reason felt inferior because of his academic ability. Which was stupid- mainly because he was the most clever and talented man you’d ever met. Just…. Just not at fraction. 
“Oh T… you could’ve just left it for me to do with her, I don’t mind.”
“That’s not the point Y/n.” He snapped a little, shrugging your arms off him and spinning in the chair so he could face you. “She’s my daughter and I should be able to help her! It’s not like it’s that hard, it’s just I’m unbelievable thick.”
“Tom stop. Look - you can do this I assure you, it’s just been a long old time ‘kay? Your rusty and that’s only natural.”
“I really don’t think I could ev-“
“Can I teach you? It’s just the method and then I promise you’ll get it.”
It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Tom agreed, letting you pull the corner chair forward to beside his desk so you could demonstrate it to him. To be fair, he really could do it- just a bit of familiarising on the ‘stick-change-flip’ method. The way the lightbulb moment literally caused his face to light up; scurrying to do the question for himself, tongue sticking out in the process; then presenting it to you proudly - well it had you melting in your seat. 
“See! That took all of 5 minutes and you got it.” You elbowed  his side by leaning forward in the chair, which instead of letting go, Tom reached and caught, before pulling you up and round. You landed with you bum perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, Tom now stood up- his legs in-between your parted thighs - your feet hooking round the back of knees. 
“It’s all down to my incredibly talented teacher.”
“No…. No I really don’t think it is” You mused with a soft voice, fingers instinctively going to the nape of his neck - twirling the little curls round your fingertips. 
“Well even so… I think I could teach you a thing or two too.” Never one to mull on anything, Tom’s tone had immediately switched to something a lot more… mischievous. 
“Not even going to ask about my day? Wheres the chat mr smooth?” He had to repress the grin at your smirk because as much as you infuriated the hell out of him - you also had this weird ability of making him feel so entranced and helpless. He relented with a sarcastic chime.
“Fine, how was your day love.”
“Good…. but I have a feeling you’re about to make it a whole lot better.”
That was all the signals he needed to lean forward, in doing so forcing you back until your back landed completely on the cool wood. His lips feathered yours, both hands pinned either side of your head.
“Oh darling… you have no idea.”
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hollyhomburg · 4 years
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Of Fire And Love (Pt.5)
(Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader) (????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok) (Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung) (Fairy! Jimin x Dragon! Namjoon)
Summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of the woods.
Pairings: Dragon! Yoongi x Human! Reader, ????? Jungkook, Dragon! Hoseok, Sorcerer! Seokjin x Human! Taehyung,
W/c: 18.6k
Warnings/Tags: visceral violent death scenes, gore, blood, near character death, morbid, violence, referenced parental death, familial fluff, touch starved characters, brief smut, discussions of Aging/mortality, mentions of War, Namgi have a Lil fight in this, 
Song rec: Agust D- Burn it, 
A/N: well here it is! the big reveal! I will be posting a short thing probably explaining the end of this and the backstory of the Seokjins family a little more as well as a collection of all of the bits that foreshadowed the ending of this chapter! This is the second to last part! and the next part will probably be just as long as this and won’t be posted for a little while. 
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- Yoongi is flying back when it happens and almost falters. Dipping in the air as the wind goes out from underneath his wings and a stabbing pain lights just underneath his heart. After being with his mate for so long it almost feels like he’s the one who was hurt not you. 
- It only knocks him out of the sky for a second before he’s righting himself in the air. And the panic takes hold- suddenly sure that something is wrong- terribly earth tilting wrong. He summons all the strength he has in him and hurls himself through the sky as quick as he can. Yoongi has never flown faster in his life. 
- Jungkook is only a kid, he can’t keep you alive. You’d only just begun to teach him how to heal. Even as Hoseok shifts back to human form- the attacker who stabbed you quickly dispatched by his teeth. Somehow Jungkook’s red scarf ends up pressed to your wound, pressing down on it with all of his weight.  
- “That’s good Koo- just like that.” you gently instruct. You’re barely alive by the time that Yoongi gets back, your breathing heavy and labored. Though Jungkook has bound around the wound, you’re half-conscious. Yoongi swoops in, shifting just in time to hurl himself through the front door cracking part of the frame with his shoulders. 
- He’s steely, even as his hands shake when he touches your pale face. You pass out with Yoongi’s name on your tongue- staying awake just long enough to see that he’s here, that your children have him to protect them, before a tidal wave of pain pulls you under. Yoongi takes one look around at the house, the dead men- feeling horror well up in him. Their place of safety, of softness and love, violated like this. 
-  He can hear and smell the ones that remain in the woods, the sluggish pull of their heartbeats as they die. And he knows the hairs on the backs of their necks are standing up as his anger grows. His fingers are black-tipped claws by his side- unable to resist the semi-shift- aching to sink into the rage that demands the world to sate it. Yoongi cannot and will not let this go unpunished. 
- But you’re still there dying on the floor, and the choice is easy. (When it comes down to it- Yoongi will always choose you) For you Yoongi will easily surrender this revenge. Somewhere in the house Yoongi smells fire. But he doesn’t care burn it all to the ground. Every happy memory with it too- everything. If it all ends like this- Yoongi can’t bear it. 
- But he needs too- for the two small faces that he loves more than anything in the world- looking at him like he holds all the answers. Hoseok’s face is wet with tears and blood when he tilts his face up, blinking them away furiously. His voice shakes when he instructs them. “Jungkook I’m going to shift and then you and Hobi are going to put her on my back and fly with me” he touches Jungkook’s arm and Jungkook turns his tear-filled eyes to his father 
- “I need you to be strong fledgling, I need you to hold her there and make sure she doesn’t fall off when we fly because tying her in will take too much time.” Yoongi touches Hoseok’s face- wiping away the blood on his mouth with a thumb. “Hoseok- this will be a long flight so keep up just above me so I can break the wind for you.”
- “If you can’t I’m going to-“ Hoseok squares his little shoulders, he’s only 15- and yet he meets Yoongi’s gaze, his resolve steely as he pushes himself up, nodding.  “if I lose you don’t worry I’ll catch up. I can follow your scent. If I fall back keep going.” 
- Yoongi had never imagined- that the trauma he’d been through as a child could have affected him in this way but Hoseok is steady as a rock in a stream. Pride wells up in him- smothered by the panic. 
- They fly through the rain and all through the night, Jungkook clenches Yoongi’s back with his thighs and keeps you on his back, putting as much pressure on your wound as he can with his arms around your waist. 
-  Hoseok is so exhausted and barely managing to stay airborne in his little red dragon form, dipping with every strong gust of wind. His ears are better at hearing now than when he’s in human form. And He listens for every ragged breath- every uneven thudding heartbeat of yours that slows with the passing hours. like a timer counting down the moments until everything will have been for naught. Hoseok pushes himself harder, his aching wings protesting with each flap. 
- Jungkook’s thighs and front are stained with your blood, and it makes Yoongi’s scaly back slippery and hard to grip with his trembling thighs, especially when the rain starts up. The terror keeps Jungkook awake and sheer will power keeps his muscles from giving out.
- Back at your manor house a hush settles over the woods, the men deep in the belly of your castle. As they raid Yoongi’s hoard- the minor blaze in the house put out. They’re merry at the prospect of so much gold but yet subdued at the men they lost today. their lives a small price to pay for the fortune that would make them as good as princes in their country.
- How selfish dragon kind where for hogging all of this wealth- not only did they have control of all of the fertile land in the world- but they also had 90% of the world’s gold. The least they can do is share. They raid Yoongi’s wine stores too. filling golden chalices with the dark red liquid.
- A hush settles over the woods as the mist starts to gather- but the calm won’t be there- not for long. They’re so drunk- they don’t realize the way that it sinks in through the windows with gentle clawed fingers, creeping in through the hallways and down to the belly of the manor house. a mist thicker than any you could cut. They only have a few moments- their drunken and gold-hungry gaze focusing on the house- full of mist- before they hear it- a brief humming of fairy wings.
- Jimin hits them with a savage stab- the flowers growing through one of their chests with a savage crack- roots splitting his sternum with a burst of red flowers. The roots sprouting around the edge of Jimin’s knife. Gone are the usual delicate features from the fairy, his face almost more horrifying than the sight of their dead comrade falling to the floor. The chrysanthemums blooming in his eyes, mushrooms budding along his spine, decomposing before their very eyes.
- What once was Jimin's cheekbones is now webbed black- his muscles sunken in and woven like a spider, his fangs hooked and buglike. His eyes glowing a horrifying red. His hands have more fingers than seem possible- more like a spider than a human. He dispatches the rest of them easily, leaving only one, pressing him close up against a wall. The man pisses himself, feeling the vines constrict around his whole body- but not killing him- not yet. 
- Jimin voice is a low croon as he drags his knife down his cheek, “now- would you like to tell me what you’ve done with my family? Or should I let my flowers do their job?” a massive head sinks out of the fog, claws clicking on the marble floors, his fangs long- blue fire leering deep in Namjoon’s mouth as he opens his mouth- the man lets out a whimper.
- He falls away like petals in the wind when Jimin wills it. Wiping his knife of the blood on his thigh and sheathing it in a simple movement. He’s thinking about seeing Seokjin again after all these years. If you’d really been as injured as they said you where- if they’d really seen Yoongi fly away with you, Jungkook and Hobi in toe- then Seokjin’s is the only place you could be heading too. All at once- the spider face gone with Jimin’s rage. He hadn’t thought- only smelled your blood in the woods and acted. 
- Namjoon nudges the edge of one of the men the flowers wilting as he dies. There isn’t a hit of remorse in his face. They’d found the puddle of your blood in the entryway after all. “You know this is sort of like Instant compost.” 
- Jimin snorts shoving at his head lovingly.  “You’re terrible” but he keeps his fingers tangled in his dragon's hair. “Let's get out of here” but before he leaves. He nudges one of them again, and a scroll falls out of their pocket, Namjoon stoops to pick it up. Eyes widening when he reads the first line. 
- “We need to call the council- this can’t wait.” 
- It’s early morning the next day when Yoongi finally touches down at the one person who could save you from the brink of death- Seokjin.
- No one is quite sure how old Yoongi is. But the last sorcerer left in the world is definitely older. The two are old friends even if it’s been more than a decade since they saw each other. But then again, Seokjin doesn’t really process time the way a normal person does- at least not when it comes to friendship.
- So it doesn’t feel like a reunion after a long time when Yoongi crashes down in the lawn in front of Seokjin’s castle. It feels more like a friend that’s popped in for tea at an unbecoming hour. But Yoongi’s never been good with manners and at the age he is, Seokjin can’t really expect him to change. 
-  It’s more clumsily then he’s ever seen him land. He even rips up the sod too- a great big skid mark all across Seokjin’s grass. Oh well, at least he hadn’t trashed the garden that Seokjin had looked after for the better part of the last millennia. He only slightly disturbs his morning coffee on his patio. Seokjin barely lifts an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his friend. 
- After all- Seokjin had felt him coming. Seokjin knows (almost) everything.
- The thing that does surprise him however, is the shouting- Jungkook slides off his back with you barely supported in his arms. That certainly surprises him a great deal. The way the youth sobs and looks at Yoongi- chanting “dad- dad please-“ Yoongi shifts to carry you. Scooping you up from the boy who looks half way to passing out. A smaller red dragon with fluffy feathers lands sloppily, crabbing to the left at the last moment and crashing into a cypress tree and nearly snapping it in half.
- He gives a muted grumble to let everyone know he’s fine- just tired, even as he drags himself over to the group his tail dragging. Yoongi and Jungkook carry you in a panicked dash.  Hoseok following Too tired to shift back to human but running next to them. That has Seokjin straightening up, getting out of his chair, his teacup clattering the floor in a crash, running over to meet them. Seokjin helps Yoongi with your weight- “Please save her Jin- I can’t live without her.” 
- Seokjin’s hands touch your abdomen with purpose, coming away red, your blood cold. “Yoongi she’s bare-“ 
- “Jin” Yoongi’s voice breaks, his lower lip quivering, every muscle in his body holding you gently, as close as he can without hurting you. Anything to keep you close for a few more moments. Jin doesn’t pause, doesn’t ask. He just rushes the four of you inside the small castle to his study. 
- The glass double doors blow open from an unseen force before they enter- tables and chairs and books flying this way and that clearing their path.  The crowded table clears with a flick of his wrist too. A hidden force sending everything flying back onto its proper place on the shelf. If he weren’t so terrified Jungkook would find it in himself to be awed- but as it is; all he can feel is scared. 
- Yoongi lays you as gently as he can on the table- your head lolling. Seokjin starts spitting words in a frantic language, his hands glowing a soft violet color as Yoongi tears at your dress- opening it up around the wound.
- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in- no- Seokjin’s magic makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that reality will bow too. It’s jaw-dropping to see, 
- Jungkook stands by the door until Hobi pulls him out of it, teeth ripping into the back of his shirt as he moves Jungkook like a mother cat would a kitten. He’s a good older brother- and he doesn’t think that you’d want either of them to see this. Especially when Seokjin starts to undress you- with only a medical like air in mind his movements quick and efficient meant to expose more of the wound.
- It takes Jin almost another full day to heal you to the best of his abilities and even then the rest is up to you. Seokjin works through the night and through all of it, Yoongi sits by your bedside, his forehead pressed to yours through the entire healing process. Offering his strength when Seokjin needs it. A hand on his shoulders sometimes, not to offer to comfort but to take Yoongi’s energy- his lifeblood- because alone Seokjin doesn’t have enough power for this.
- Seokjin’s drains the energy out of him to the point where he fears taking anymore. Yoongi slumped next to you, keeping himself in the chair by sheer force of will, whispering into your ear your cheeks start to pink up again slowly, your breath coming infrequently- but in time with the pulse of Seokjin’s magic.
- “Don’t you dare go on me yet Y/n, I haven’t had nearly enough time with you, not by a long shot” he holds your hand- he only ever wanted to do that- to hold your hands for the rest of time. However much time he had with you- he had always thought that would be enough- but now he realizes it isn’t. He’d never get enough time with you, not if you were by his side for 100 or 500 years.
- You never get enough time with the ones you love. Whether you’re immortal or mortal, no stretch of time is adequate. Even if you’re both there to witness the death of the cosmos and all else that lingers. Yoongi wants more- he needs more time with you.
- Both of your sons sit outside the room, Jungkook listing into Hobi once he gets too tired to stay awake. “I’ll wake you if there’s any news Kookie”  And even though Hobi’s tired from flying he just can’t close his eyes until he knows if he’s lost his mom again.
- Jungkook dozes, and Hoseok picks a spot on the tapestry that hangs on the opposite wall and doesn’t look away. Jungkook lying across his lap- one of Hoseok’s hands embedded deep in his chocolate locks. Holding onto him like he’s worried Jungkook is going to slip away too.
- “I killed someone Hobi- I- I killed someone,” he says, late into the afternoon when the orange light seeps through the window at the end of the hall. Hoseok blinks as he looks down at Jungkook- he hadn’t realized the younger had woken. A Geometric shape of orange light falls across Jungkook’s Face. His cheekbones suddenly present- all that made him baby faced fallen away in a single day, the bags under his eyes hallow bruises.  
- The way Jungkook says it- he says it like it means something. Like it Wasn’t just an act of desperation and an act of trying to live. To keep going.  Hoseok has to fight to keep his voice steady. “Do you hate me?” his hand fists in the front of Jungkook’s shirt over his heart. Covering a tiny fleck of blood with his closed fist. “I killed people too Jungkook, do you hate me?” 
-  Hoseok realizes with a start- that he’s killed more people than Jungkook- and can’t navigate his way back through the terror of the last few hours to count how many men had fallen under his tooth and claw. Hoseok tells himself that they had too- and believes it. After all- if they hadn’t it would mean the three of you lying dead on the floor of your entryway.
- Hoseok doesn’t want to think about what Yoongi would have done if he’d come home to that. He doesn’t think that his father’s rage would have been sated by the whole world on fire. He lets himself imagine it for a moment. The human world- swallowed in flames, everything burning. Jungkook reaches up and rubs away at the smoke curling over Hoseok’s chin, a juvenile imitation of rage- of the fire that Hoseok isn’t capable of yet. “Do you hate me Jungkook?” 
- Jungkook looks stricken with the very idea of it, he laces his hand with Hoseok’s over his heart and curls up around him so that Jungkook can press his face into Hoseok’s side. Hiding his face and his tears as he fights to stay calm- not to break all over his soulmates lap- even if he’s been breaking since he put his sword through that man in your home hours ago. 
- “I could never hate you Hobi.”
- Hoseok wishes he could feel more like Jungkook but he doesn’t. Sure he’s afraid, but the terror hovers below a steely calm that he can’t think through. He’s lost his mom before, and he can’t lose you too, doesn’t want to lose his mom again. But he won’t fall apart until he knows. Because If he fell apart again- he’s not sure that even Jungkook could bring him back. 
- It takes until the next evening for the trauma-induced calm to end. Jungkook next to him asleep again, but Hoseok hasn’t managed to close his eyes. And when he does for only a few minutes, images of you lie behind his eyelids.
-  The countless times you’d brushed through his feathers or ruffled his hair, how you’d excitedly congratulated him and Jungkook with every little bit of things they’d brought home. The cross look on your face, hands on your hips, whenever they came home more bruised and battered than usual. All of that gone in a day-
-  A memory from when he would wake as a child in your mountain home is what makes Hoseok fall apart. the first time he’d ever woken up feeling safe after his parents died. Jungkook asleep beside him, to the sound of your soft humming as you hovered over the stove, Yoongi’s dark wing shielding Jungkook and Hoseok from the light of morning. 
- But when Hobi had looked, he’d found Yoongi’s neck stretched out so that he could lay it down next to you while you worked. And whenever you’d finish with a task you’d reach over to scratch up and down his cheek. And Hoseok could feel the pleasant shiver and happiness all around him. 
- He remembers making a noise, and you turn to him. your hair falling all around your face free from the braid you usually bound it in when you slept.  Hushing him softly, ‘you can go back to sleep okay? Breakfast will be done in a moment little-honey’
- It’s when the memories hit him that He starts to cry, to hyperventilate. He keeps clutching Jungkook’s hand the whole time. When Jungkook wakes they hold onto each other. The younger pulling him in and reversing their positions. Strengthening the moment Hoseok needs him. And Hoseok’s world narrows down to just Jungkook. 
-  Finally, just after sunrise, Seokjin pokes his head out of the study and Hobi straightens up. He’s already magiced the table into a bed- and he’s left Yoongi curled up around you sleeping soundly- a quick calming spell to let his friend recuperate after the last day- Seokjin is sure he would have fallen asleep if he hadn’t put that spell on him. They’ll move you to an actual bed when yoongi wakes. 
- At the sound of the door opening Jungkook jerks barely catching himself before he crashes into the floor, blinks owlishly at the sudden movement. Seokjin’s greeting dying in his throat. Truthfully, Seokjin doesn’t remember being that young and it’s kind of strange. To be confronted with such youth after almost a full year on his own with no-one to talk too.
- They spill over themselves in an effort to get in the room “is she okay- is mom gonna live is she gonna-“ suddenly Seokjin finds himself inundated with two very concerned teenagers, clutching at the edge of his dark purple dressing-gown- he hadn’t even bothered to change from his pajamas.  “I’ve healed her wounds- but the rest is up to her” both of them sigh and then- none to surprisingly, burst into tears and cling to Seokjin who awkwardly pats them on the back.
- Jesus Christ- they haven’t even told him their names yet and already they’re tripping over themselves to thank him. “Can we see her and dad?” Seokjin sighs heavily, “I think it’s probably better to give them some space, your father and mother need to rest- why don’t you come with me so we can fix some food for you? And also do some introducing- your parents really didn’t teach you any manners did they? Luckily I’m good at that.” Because if there’s one thing that's better than a spell at fixing sorrow, then its food. 
- Seokjin starts jauntily down the hallway as Hoseok and Jungkook shoot each other a confused glance, suddenly both dubious and a little terrified by the sorcerer “Well come on- out with it what are your names little menaces?”
- When you wake, almost a full week after the attack, Yoongi is sat by your bedside holding your hand looking haggard and unkempt. He’s hardly moved all this time. Only changed and washed up because Seokjin had bothered him too- and left Hobi and Jungkook to watch over you for a moment, or to tuck the boys in and made sure they’ve eaten something. they’ve been so grown up the last few days. after the first day when- 
- a tangled mess of both of them in the bed, both of them woken to yoongi coming into their room, wetness on his cheeks, touching their soft heads as he cried- thanking the gods and all the goodness in the world that they hadn’t been hurt too. Hoseok blinking awake, whispering “dad?” into the open air which had made Yoongi break- his chest heaving. 
- And Hoseok- little Hoseok- knowing to reach up to wrap his arms around his father because that’s what he needed. To scent-mark his children and make sure they knew he was there- that he wouldn't be leaving. Jungkook has always been a deep sleeper hadn’t even woken. 
- but Hoseok had pushed at yoongi after a moment. “go- I know you want to sit next to mom. it’s okay, I’ll make sure Jungkook and I eat after he wakes up- you don't have to worry about us I'll- I’ll make sure we’re doing what she’d want us to be doing.”
- like washing their clothes and making sure they bathed and detangled their hair and made their beds in the morning. But also- that they were looking after each other too. making sure neither of them felt alone or uncared for- for too long. in all your years parenting- you’ve always emphasized being there for each other- and Hoseok and Jungkook won’t let you down now. they’re amazing in Yoongi’s eyes. Already grown up enough to understand that yoongi is as in need of as much comfort as they are. 
- And In all your time raising Jungkook and Hoseok together you have never seen Yoongi cry. But when you open your eyes and peer up at him Yoongi bursts into tears. looking tired but alive with a lingering ache in your stomach that seems to hold you down to the plush bed with a vengeance. His long fingers touching your cheeks, pulling himself closer to you.
- Yoongi sobs out your name, pressing his forehead against yours when you whisper out his name, your hands weekly coming up to grab onto him- you’re so tired- so weak and uncoordinated but still- you can’t bear to have him even an inch from you. “I was so scared my love, but now you’re safe and healing. Thank the gods you’re alive.”
- “I’m not a god but thanks for the high praise,” says a stranger from the door, his black hair shot through with silver streaks. His endlessly mirthful purple eyes haunting in the half-light of the bedroom. The stranger wipes his hands off with a cloth. But the glowing stone- set into the space just above his collar bones, glowing a light purple under a thin layer of skin, tell you enough about who this must be. 
- He does smile kindly, and you can already see his appraising eyes measuring your condition. “I’m Seokjin- I’m the person who saved your life” you give a weak smile in return. “Yoongi’s told me all about you and though I’d prefer it if we hadn’t met this way I’m eternally thankful. Thank you Seokjin, for allowing me to stay with my family.” 
- You turn to Yoongi, even now he can see how exhausted you are, “how are you feeling- do you want some water- some food my darling?” You’re about to say no, that you only want to go back to sleep when you jolt up. Your parental instincts cut through your haze and a bone-chilling panic suddenly seizing you. 
- Yoongi’s hands on both your shoulders to keep you in the bed- “oh my god the kids- are they alright are they-“ Jungkook and Hoseok peer out from behind Seokjin’s back, looking scared and restraining themselves from coming too close. But very much alive and uninjured. They hover until Yoongi gestures that it’s okay for them to come closer- that they won’t hurt you. 
- Both Hoseok and Jungkook immediately start crying and hurl themselves onto your bed. Hobi gets so distressed that he actually shifts and starts scent marking you like a cat. One of his legs wiping out to push Seokjin away unintentionally. He is a little big now- it feels more like an extraordinarily large puppy has taken up half the space in your bed. 
-  “Hey! Rude!” Seokjin shouts but lets himself be moved. The big bed creaks and sags as Hoseok sets himself firmly over the top portion of it. His warm underbelly curled around your head, his feathers tickling your face as he nuzzles in close, gently and slowly. Jungkook settles on your side, his hands locked in a death grip around your shoulders you weekly bring up a hand to card it through his hair. 
- “Boys! Be careful of her side! She’s still healing.” But you give him a look over Jungkook’s shoulder, a little teary-eyed yourself but smiling- the smile that Yoongi would die for would tear apart the world for. 
- “Yoongi told me how brave the two of you were flying all this way to help me Hobi, and keeping me on his back Kookie. I’m so proud of both of you.”  Jungkook lets himself pull back a little “Really?” 
- “Yes! you were so so brave!” you even scratch a little under Hobi’s chin, and he lets out a little content dragon noise and snuggles closer. Jungkook lets out his first even breath in days. Hoseok too- both of them crying those easy tears of relief in your arms. “You’re so brave boys, It’s okay- I’m okay now- you don’t have to be scared anymore.” 
- As he listens to you reassure your children and for the first time, Yoongi notices the smile lines by your mouth, a single grey hair starting to glitter along your hairline. The signs of aging that he never noticed before, and goes quiet, suddenly still.
- “Thank you” your eyes are tear-filled as you look up at Seokjin, your hands brushing over both your son's heads, so slow and lingering. like you thought you’d never get the chance to do it again- or had, and now were pausing to savor every moment. “Really Seokjin- I can’t thank you enough- I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” 
-Seokjin looks bashful, a stiff blush climbing from the back of his neck. And he’s stuttering when he talks- “it’s really not my doing- not most of it anyway- I mean- healing you was my doing but you never would have survived if it hadn’t been for this.”
- Seokjin fingers the cloth in his hands, darker red now than it was before. The four of you straighten up, suddenly confused. Jungkook lifts his head from your shoulder, looking perplexed, “My scarf? My scarf saved her?” Jungkook asks, 
- “Not the scarf- but the protection charm on it” Seokjin fingers the edge of it- which hasn’t frayed in all this time. How had you never realized it? over 13 years old and still it’s never lost its color. “It’s old magic- the kind of magic I haven’t seen in a long time. It will protect whatever it covers from harm. And in your case it kept your organs from shutting down before you got here. If it hadn’t been for this wrapped around your waist you would have died in minutes not hours.” 
- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, his lower lip quivering suddenly looking betrayed. “You- you should have told me- if you’d seen my sister you should have told me it’s been hundreds of years Yoongi- you know how much I want to see my family so- how could you.” 
- “I didn’t- Seokjin I didn’t see her- the scarf was with Jungkook when I found him.”  Jungkook looks up abruptly from the bed; Hoseok cocks his head in curiosity. “When you found me?” Jungkook looks surprised for a second before he straightens up. “No- I knew that I knew that I wasn’t yours- but- I always thought- the scarf was the first thing you gave me- that’s why it was so special.” 
- Hoseok’s shifts shaking his head his curls bouncing. leaning up against the headboard pulling Jungkook up to sit with him. Until the three of you are sitting up.  “I didn’t know- I always thought-“ Hoseok looks at you, and you shake your head. “Then if you’re not- where are Jungkook’s biological-“
- Yoongi puts his head in his hands, leaning up against the edge of your bed.   gritting his teeth, “Now isn’t the time for that conversation.” Yoongi isn’t ready and won’t ever be ready for Jungkook to hate him. 
- Hoseok has gotten better at smelling emotions through his sensitive nose- and whips his head around at the acrid scent of Yoongi’s displeasure- taking it wrong. “Then when will be the right time?” how Hoseok had managed to inherit your stubbornness but only ever decides to use it when Jungkook is concerned- Yoongi will never know. 
- “Yoongi” Seokjin brings his focus back to him. You straighten up in bed. Sending both of your children a thankful but strained smile. “Boys? Would you mind giving us a minute?” both of them won’t argue with you now. not with how weak you look.
- You tell Seokjin the story- Yoongi filling in the blanks more than you do. He’s being so tender with you- the physical contact filling you with a soft haze along with the sleepiness. His fingers rubbing down your arm slowly and gently. He’s fully sprawled next to you, your head resting on his chest so you can listen to his heartbeat. Dozing a little. “Are you sure Yoongi?” Seokjin asks gripping the scarf like it’s a lifeline.
- Yoongi nods certain, “it must have been some sort of relic- you know how the humans like to hand those down through the generations. Jungkook’s birth parent’s where- these warriors? I can only describe them as a clan of dragon hunters but I never went back after I-“ 
- Yoongi can’t meet Seokjin’s eyes. “I killed them and then Jungkook was just there and couldn’t- I didn’t want to-” you lift a shaky hand up to cup Yoongi’s cheek, and he leans into it. All at once you realize this- you in the bed, and Seokjin accusing Yoongi of something the likes of which you can’t imagine, are too much for him. 
- You jump in where Yoongi fails to articulate the words. “After that we took care of him together, and then Hobi came- and it’s only been us ever since. I’m sorry Seokjin, I don’t know who you’re looking for. But I don’t think it has anything to do with Jungkook” Seokjin’s protests die in his throat, and he nods sadly, setting the scarf gently on the end of your bed. 
- Later- Yoongi will tell you about Seokjin’s family. and how slowly, after a period of time- they’d all begun to disappear off the face of the earth. The only family of sorcerers left or made- even Seokjin didn’t know how they’d come to be. Only that there could only be the seven of them and no more. Not even any more children, As having children was as good as passing your power down onto them- and relinquishing your own immortality.
-  First his parents had gone- than his older siblings, and finally, his younger sister who had simply vanished one-afternoon leaving Seokjin alone- the only sorcerer left in the world. Seokjin had been searching for her ever since.  
- That afternoon- you have more energy with your children around, and even eat something small. Though Seokjin had warned Yoongi that it might take a little while for your body to recuperate- he’s happy to watch you sit up a little more. The warmth back in your cheeks when you play a game of cards with your children sprawled across the bed that night. 
- Both of them give you more details here and there about what had happened after you’d lost consciousness happy to receive more praise from you. Sometimes- Hoseok gets a little overwhelmed and needs to hug you and shifts- but he’s conscious enough to move before that happens this time (after a few poignant comments about the state of the bedframe from Seokjin), putting most of his weight on a plush couch that he and Jungkook had pushed over to the side of the bed. Leaning only his head on the plush blanket. It’s easy for both Yoongi and Jin to excuse themselves and go make dinner. 
- It always surprises Yoongi how much Seokjin loves to cook- for an all-powerful immortal that doesn’t necessarily need to put in effort into doing anything. Yoongi has seen him wave his hands and summon full cooked feasts. And still, the sorcerer does love to cook with his own two hands, finding the process more satisfying that way.
 - His friend looks the same as he had over a dozen years ago- his button-down shirt rolled to the sleeves, barking at Yoongi to pour out scoops of finely milled powders to make some sort of doughy saucy dish that Yoongi’s never heard of before. Seokjin’s mother’s cookbook sits open on the prep table- so it must be something special. 
- “Just say it- I know you have something you want to ask,” Seokjin’s voice is quiet and comforting. In their little cadre- Seokjin has always been the voice of reason. Yoongi’s hands are elbow deep in flour. Slowly kneading the dough. He hesitates for a moment. Knowing once he asks, the future might be out of his hands. 
-  “I can’t lose her Jin, I don’t think Hoseok and I will be able to bear it when they both go- I don’t want to go back to being that lonely person I was- I need them. I need you to find a way to turn her immortal like us, and then I want you to do the same with Jungkook.” 
- Hoseok is like Yoongi- won’t even reach maturity for another 20 years- and by that time, you’ll be older, and Jungkook will be nearing 35. He’s honestly surprised that he and Jungkook are still aging at the same rate as in general. Dragons stop aging once their human bodies start to reach maturity. Yoongi doesn’t want to think about the eventuality- 50 or 60 years down the line when Hoseok will loose his soul-bonded partner. They could lose both of you. If Seokjin and Yoongi don’t act now. 
- But yet- he knows- what he’s asking of Seokjin is no easy feat of magic. If it was- Taehyung would be standing next to them right now. Seokjin’s eyes darken when Yoongi asks, his hands still from where he’s stirring the sauce. flicking off the fire with a twitch of his hand and setting the spoon on a plate. 
- Yoongi knows a cure for mortality has been the only thing on Seokjin’s mind for a long time- before you were born even. It’s been his single goal since he’d met Taehyung. Yoongi wonders where Taehyung is- he should go and say hello to his old friend soon, but he’s not sure where he is in the castle probably hidden away near Seokjin’s bedroom. 
-  Seokjin makes a ‘come hither’ motion with his fingers and a singular perfect drop of red floats from the pot and into his mouth. “This needs something” he pauses for a moment before he turns and walks to the pantry. Searching for some oregano- but it might be in the study- after all- it was very useful in most calming spells. “You should go check on her Yoongi, and send your boys here- I want to teach them how to make this.”
-  In the week since you’d been injured. Seokjin has taken it upon himself to teach the boys how to cook for themselves (if they’re going to insist on being the adventurers they are then it’s a skill they’ll need to posses) as well as “manners” which Yoongi had caught them grumbling about more than once.
-  Jin likes his boys a fair bit, Even if they have gotten into his stores of potions twice in the last week (of which one incident had, unfortunately, lead to Hoseok’s hair turning into full-on feathers as dark as Jungkook’s hair. But luckily that had been quickly fixed by a secondary spell. What Yoongi doesn’t have to know- won’t hurt him) “Jin please-”
- “I know how it feels Yoongi- I know- just enjoy the next few days okay? Let me think about it. And ask her if she even wants this its not just you who chooses what happens with your family, Jungkook and Hobi too.” Yoongi sighs, but respects Seokjin’s words.
-  And as much as Yoongi’s fear won’t let him make a coherent decision- he’s right. He should ask you first before he makes any plans about your mortality. Once you’re better- then he’ll ask. Yoongi lifts his hands up from the dough and unsurprisingly it keeps kneading its self pulled this way and that by an unseen force. A little too quickly- like Seokjin’s magic is a little agitated by so many questions. 
- “I never thought you’d have kids. The Yoongi I met all those years ago wouldn’t have wanted to bring a woman into his mess let alone a child” Yoongi has to laugh at it because he’s right. His younger self was a lot more angsty and pessimistic about the likelihood of a family in his future. 
- Yoongi can’t stop the soft smile that lights his face when he thinks of you. “They give me a lot of joy Jin- hope for the future too. Maybe the best way to change the world is to raise your own kids and make sure you do it right. Maybe that’s the way to change the world rather than any more pointless wars.”
- Seokjin knocks his shoulder into Yoongi’s “You’ve grown up a lot since I last saw you Yoongi.” And Yoongi can’t do anything else but smile- because sometimes- growing up is a good thing. 
- You get better slowly, it takes you a few days to get out of bed and see the castle that your children have taken upon themselves to explore. A dark gothic structure with vaulted ceilings; its Library full of jeweled toned spell books in languages that Jungkook doesn’t even recognize- and tries to learn (his curiosity as unsatiable as ever). 
- The books that seem to whisper in Jungkook’s ear. Sentences so quiet like t he’s just a little too far away to properly make out the words. 
- Enchanted brooms sweeping here and there. Making indigent squeaking noises if you walk along their path. Rooms full of drawers- the shelves lining all the way up through the ceiling- each ingredient labeled by its uses, it’s common name, and its magical name. You’re curious too- especially when you find some plants even you use for healing with particular uses. 
- The whole place is furnished like a decade out of the past- tufted velvet sofas and chipped gilded mirrors that have greyed with age- some of which are covered with cloths. You ask Seokjin what they hide when Hoseok tries to pull the covering off of one unseen magical hands stopping him. And the sorcerer just sighs a little clipped, and says cryptically “some things are best left unknown at his age.” 
- Later one evening you’ll go over to it again and ask. And Seokjin will tell you that the mirror Hoseok was trying to peer into shows the viewer their soulmate. And when you pull the casing off of it- you don’t see anything- anyone standing beside you at all. Until Yoongi comes into the room, having just made sure that your boys were getting to bed at a semi-reasonable hour. 
- Moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. smiling at you in the mirror and Tugging you to go to bed- and get some rest (he’s been seemingly obsessed with making sure you rest and become 100% better before you even talk about what you’re going to do next). You glance back at Seokjin- about to ask him what that means- to see no one. Until you see his small happy smile- oh, so Yoongi actually is your soulmate. You suppose that’s nice- knowing for sure. 
- And Seokjin will sip his wine from the fireplace and give you both a soft shadowed smile, his hands tapping vacantly- reaching out for someone who he can’t touch, and wanting all the same. when he takes a chance and looks across the room to see Taehyung smiling at him, reflected in that mirror. And gets up to cover it again. 
- Everything in the castle hums some sort of undercurrent. The room Seokjin sets you and Yoongi up in is lavish- the bed impossibly soft and the sheets that feel like running water on your skin. The fabrics that hang on the walls detailing stories that seem to be ever-changing. One morning you wake up to an embroidered phoenix hanging on the wall across from you and the next; some sort of intricate blue flower about to bloom. 
- There are 100 moments that could have prepared you for what happens in the end. Hoseok and Jungkook walking through the library- only to have Jungkook complain that it’s ‘too loud to concentrate” “what are you talking about Koo it’s a library” “yeah but- don’t you hear it?” or the fact that Jungkook keeps begging Seokjin to do spells but somehow they never stick. 
- You’re lounging in the sitting room next to the library, its tall glass ceiling- a small door to the side open to the backyard and garden. You’re shivering a little where you’re propped up against Yoongi. He keeps fussing, tucking the blanket around you tighter. And you’re ready for another nap even though you’ve just woken up. 
- Your children badger Seokjin about every different kind of spell that he can do after they find one that gives someone the ability to control the length of their hair- which is apparently something Hoseok really wants- though you can’t imagine why. 
- They’re just working out the logistics when Jungkook lugs over a spellbook more half his size and slams it down across the desk, making both Seokjin and Hoseok- having been bent over the spellbook- flinch.  “Page 497” Jungkook is almost vibrating with excited energy, as Seokjin waves a hand, the massive book flipping open, “Hyung” he tacks on- with little regard for politeness. But Seokjin supposes its better than he’d been before- when he hadn’t even remembered to refer to Seokjin as his elder.
- Hoseok is a little cross at Jungkook for interrupting for a moment, Before he leans over the spellbook, his smile lighting up his whole face, his voice suddenly loud and mirthful “oh yes- please- Seokjin Hyung-” 
- “What is it?” you call from where you sit, Yoongi putting a finger in his book and setting it aside so that he can watch, a gentle smile playing on his lips. one arm around your waist as you recline against him, leaning forward to slowly run his nose over your shoulder.
- Seokjin rolls his eyes, rising from the table and rolling up his sleeves, looking exasperated but ready for the challenge of doing a spell he’s never attempted. It’s far easier just to teleport that fly honestly. “Of course you’d want to fly- alright- come on then- to the middle of the room with you.” 
- Yoongi starts to protest- that maybe inside isn’t the best place for this, but you put a hand on his arm, soothing him because you want to watch but you don’t want to move. You suppose with a ceiling- Jungkook can’t let his flying get out of hand. It’s probably better to be more contained. Both of you watch as Jungkook practically vibrates with energy. Hoseok is happy glancing at him too- “I can’t wait to fly with you Kookie- this way- we can go everywhere! And I don’t even have to carry you!” 
- Hoseok and Jungkook had been trying to find a way to fly with Jungkook on Hoseok’s back for years. But he’d never been strong enough or large enough to handle Jungkook’s weight for more than a few minutes. He was getting stronger- but your boys are impatient. 
- Seokjin humors both of them, holding both his hands out and when he starts to speak, the purple light flares at his fingertips. The stone at the center of his chest glowing too. You’d asked him about it a few days ago- and he’d said that each sorcerer needed some sort of channel- a magical object to give them the ability to link their soul to the magic humming all around them. And you watch it pulsate now as he speaks the words. Jungkook closes his eyes as the magic washes over him like a heavy blanket, his hair rising on end.
- Jungkook only hovers an inch above the ground before the magic rebound upon him- slipping off of him and sticking to Hoseok- who suddenly finds himself floating 4 feet above the ground. The spell stops and he touches down as Jungkook makes a disappointed grumble, crestfallen, “Why didn’t it work!” 
- Seokjin blinks, looking down at his hands. “that’s strange” he says- before he asks Hoseok to step away- something about the soulbond interfering maybe.  Both you and Yoongi watch on- your books set aside to watch.
- Jungkook is almost vibrating with excitement as Seokjin closes his eyes really concentrating this time, Hoseok waiting and watching behind him. You think something should be happening- until you realize that Yoongi and yourself are hovering a foot off of the couch. 
- Seokjin sets you down easily. All of them laughing at you clinging to Yoongi when you realize you’re airborne frantically asking Seokjin to put you down. Yoongi’s gummy smile on display. Jungkook looks more and more put out by the second. “Let's go outside” Seokjin says, and your children head jauntily out after him, Jungkook lugging the spellbook under one arm, almost slipping in the grass under its weight.
- You and Yoongi are soft- piled up together. Yoongi’s long fingers dancing along the edge of your knuckles, rubbing over the little scars that you have here and there. You both watch as Seokjin tries and tries and tries- but Jungkook never gets more than a few inches off the grass. You can see the impression the magic makes in the grass as it rushes from Seokjin to Jungkook, making it stand up or fall down in place- like it’s some sort of wind. 
- “There’s something I want to ask you- when we’ve got the chance I-“ Yoongi’s sentence is interrupted by Hoseok’s shout of “Uncle Jimin! Uncle Namjoon!” in the yard, Yoongi helps you up and sure enough- Namjoon and Jimin are touching down in the front yard. Hugging each of your sons, Seokjin and Namjoon embracing once Namjoon has a second to shift.
- Jimin is just doting on Jungkook and Hoseok, hugging them- thankful that they’re alright- when he looks up- clothed differently and less flamboyantly than he usually is. His simple flying gear dark and patterned, making him sleek and quicker as a flyer- so much so that you barely see him before he’s colliding with you- “are you okay we found your blood and the men and-“ their words rush out of them before you have a chance to blink- 
- “I’m- I’m okay- a little banged up but- I’m fine Jimin” their face is panicked, Namjoon’s somber as they rush over. “We thought you were dead” he says, you can tell by his dimples- making a brief appearance that he’s happy to find you alive and relatively alright. 
- Even now- Seokjin and Namjoon stand closer- as if by proximity they could make up for the distance of years- its hard to wrack your memory for the reason why but then you remember- they’re soul bonded partners. “Did you-“ Yoongi’s voice trails off.  The feral glint in Jimin’s eye is more lethal than any you’ve ever seen in it- “I did” he says, relish in the words. 
- Yoongi nods, letting out an uneven laugh “good” he pulls you closer by an arm around your waist. Because he hadn’t been able to get revenge and the knowledge that the men that had hurt you hadn’t gotten away- its enough for now. “Oh you mean- the dragon hunters?” Jimin smile is fanged when he looks at you. 
- His hands are viselike on your upper arms as he tugs you close- whispers low in your ear. “No one hurts my family and gets away with It.“ you blush a little, unsure how to respond because that kind of loyalty is rare. and it does warm your heart a little. 
- “There’s more though” Namjoon says, and it's then that you realize that he’s dressed much in the same way Jimin is. The clothes simple tight and black, Namjoon doesn’t look happy when he has to say the words. Age-old tiredness in his face. 
- “That wasn’t any ordinary attack- it was ordered by the human king- to try to take you out before the fighting starts.” Yoongi and you straighten up, in the background, Hoseok and Jungkook stand a little closer, “the human king has declared eminent domain over all dragon lands. We’ll go to war within the month.”
- The argument that happens next isn’t what you expect- not at least- from Jimin and Namjoon. It ends with Yoongi slamming his hands down on a table in Seokjin’s study the sound loud and percussive. “No Namjoon- I won’t fucking fight.” 
- You’re glad that your sons aren’t here- have been told by you to go explore- neither of them had seemed too upset about it- maybe just a little because they wanted to see Jimin and Namjoon- but not enough to question you. They understand how serious it must be for all of the adults to look so somber.
- Smoke curls over Yoongi’s chin. And the room fills with an ice-like chill from Namjoon as his temper flares. “I will not- nor will I ever again- fight another war for that blasted council. I have a family to keep safe now Namjoon- and I can’t believe you’d even ask-“ 
- “That’s exactly why I’m asking you Yoongi. How can you expect them to be safe without you?” he makes a flippant gesture with his hands, and next to you in the doorway where Jimin leans, he winces Yoongi recoiling already taking that wrong. 
- “The last war took 33 years Namjoon, by that time- Y/n will be almost 70 and Jungkook will be aged too- you can’t expect me to waste what little time I might have left on something so-” 
- “Hang on-“ Jimin interrupts; he’s been standing, leaning back against the doorway for the majority of this conversation. “When did you get so obsessed with time?” “Since I almost lost her Jimin, I can’t-”
- “You didn’t!?” Namjoon straightens up, looking at his soul-bonded partner aghast. “You didn’t fucking promise him something that you can’t even fucking do for Taehyung- Seokjin!”
- Seokjin flinches back, from where he sits at the table, trying to stay out of the argument, his face drawn. Hands clasped, leaning his chin on them. He doesn’t respond. “Neither of you get it!” Yoongi yells, hands bursting into flames by his side, hot furious tears budding at the corner of his eyes. “Both of you are immortal you don’t know what it’s like- watching the person you love almost die. I can’t- I won't stand by while I lose” 
- Yoongi breaks off- glancing up at you, already stepping forward to comfort him, he swallows, meeting Namjoon’s furious glare. “I won't waste another day that I have with them- and neither should you- you both should fuck the council and side with us.” 
- “Yoongi” you say. Your voice breaking, running to him- his hands extinguishing the second he even gets close to touching you. Because you hadn’t really realized how much this was affecting him. You hold onto him as strong he holds onto you. Namjoon and Jimin sigh, their fight and the chill in the air dissipating as they accept Yoongi’s choice. Jimin grasping at his hand. Namjoon looks at Yoongi- suddenly looking defeated. Seokjin won't look at him, keeps his eyes on the desk in front of him. “Alright- if you won’t fight I can’t make you, but Seokjin will you?”
- Seokjin shakes his head, his voice so quiet and thick with emotion- with hope. “If both of us are looking- it will be easier- twice as much brain power as one- with Yoongi by my side- we’ll make twice as much progress in a year.” 
- You’ve been silent up until now, rubbing your face slowly into Yoongi’s shirt, Yoongi’s hands fisting in the back of your shawl tight around your shoulders. Since you nearly died- you’ve been colder than usual. There have been a lot of things said in this argument that you don’t understand. And from the somber way Seokjin speaks- you figure you should know.  
- You’ve been letting them argue because as much as you care that your mate stays by your side- this isn’t a choice any of you should make for Yoongi. Even if you’re on his side, and don’t want him to waste another moment. to be parted from you for anyother moment. “What do you guys mean? Progress with what?” 
- Jimin snorts, crossing his arms like it’s the confirmation that he needed. “See- you haven’t even asked her yet.” 
- “Asked me what? I don’t understand,” you say at the same moment Namjoon looks over at the clock, checking the time. “We have to go- the council is having a meeting about this tomorrow night and if they’re going to call the garrison without you- they’ll need time to pick a replacement.”
- None of them have to look far- the only one who could replace Yoongi would be Namjoon himself- his second in command. Yoongi watches with a sick feeling in his stomach- at the possibility of Namjoon going to war without either Seokjin or himself by his side isn’t apealing. But then Yoongi looks at you- and the prospect gets a little easier to bear. Namjoon and Jimin leave, embracing you before they go, and you touch either of their cheeks telling them to be safe. 
- And the three of you linger in study. Listening to Jimin and Namjoon hug Jungkook and Hobi on the patio outside and say goodbye at least for a little bit. Seokjin following them to say a few words to namjoon before he takes off. Because Namjoon and Jimin are sure to be busy for a while at least- this will take all of their attention. Damn Namjoon for his altruism and Jimin for his inability not to follow his mates led and stand by him. Yoongi wishes they would stay. 
- Yoongi comes over to stand by you as you watch them get ready to take off, namjoon already shifted, Hoseok shifted too to jump on his back playfully teasing his uncle, he scrabbles with his claws against Namjoon’s slippery icy scales. and you can hear Jungkook, Jimin, and Seokjin’s giggles from here. 
- Yoongi presses a hot kiss against the nape of your neck, and then your mouth when you turn your face to let him, and you can feel his frustration in it, all of the passion. Jimin and namjoon take off- leaving as quickly as he came.  It’s easy for him to Wisk you away to a quiet part of the castle. Needing some quiet with you- to have you all to himself for just a little while.
- The kisses don’t stop even when he picks you up after you stumble. You barely even notice the rest of the castle passing in a blur as he carries you through it, kicking open the door to your bedroom.
- He lays you back on the bed gently as he can, his hands touching and brushing all over you. His movements almost fever mad with the need to touch “Yoongi” you say, breathless- a half moan as he touches you the way that makes you dizzy and close to falling apart at the seams. But he’s hard there- ready to keep you together but desperate.
- “Let me feel you just- let me taste you” he says, kissing down your collar bones and rucking up your shirt so he can mouth hungrily at the skin of your stomach, every touch of his desperate and Shaking. “Let me just-please- I know you’re tired but I’ll do I’ll the work- I’ll take care of you-”
- You don’t understand why he suddenly needs your skin on his more than he needs air in his lungs. Maybe its because it’s the first time since you’ve been injured- or maybe because he’d been so close to losing you and Jimin and Namjoon had just reminded him of it. Maybe it's a little bit of the guilt he feels for not being able to protect you and take care of you in the first place. 
- And though you have so many questions, when Yoongi looks at you a little too emotional; you forget all your questions and kiss him back, touch him back when he shakes, because he looks so vulnerable right now- more than you’ve ever seen him.
- Your hand comes down to scratch around his horns in the way you know has had him coming at times, and he groans, low and breathless as he tugs down your pants. Shucking them off and hooking your knee over his shoulder fingers reaching down to part your wetness. The press of his long fingers making your back arch. His mouth as equally hot and wet on you as you feel.  
- True to his word Yoongi does all of the work, and it leaves you feeling boneless and sated in the way only your mate can make you feel. It's sweaty and sensual but close more than anything as he slides into you and keeps you near, chest pressed to yours. his face buried in your shoulder, almost crying with how good it feels to be so connected to you. The kisses lingering and hot and thankful because you’re here- you’re here.
- “Yoongi?” you ask, alarmed when you realize he’s actually crying. Seated inside of you after he’s cum, hiding his face in your shoulder. “Baby what’s wrong?” he can barely speak, his voice raw when he looks up, lips pursed to keep his sobs in.
- “I can’t lose you- I can’t Y/n- I just can’t and that day- when I thought I had lost you” Yoongi is lost for words. “I just- I can’t keep going if you die, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 
- “Not ‘if ‘though” you say, being honest with him, crying as you shake your head, “when right? Because I’m not immortal like you” 
- Yoongi shakes his head, suddenly sitting up, “no- I mean if- if you die.” 
- With little more than that Yoongi launches into his explanation, the story of Seokjin and Taehyung, and what that means for both of you. Eventually- you end up sitting up next to each other. Fingers and legs tangled together- Yoongi rushing over his words like a babbling brook. And slowly- what he means to do starts to take hold. 
-  The next morning, Seokjin knocks on the door to your bedroom. “Where are Hoseok and Jungkook?” you ask, finishing braiding your hair while Yoongi laces up his boots. Seokjin leans against the door in his silky purple robe, fiddling with its ties. “They’re eating breakfast- you don’t have to worry about them- they’re okay- a little angry with Jimin and Namjoon for leaving but they’ll be okay.” Seokjin looks like they’re more that he wants to say- but doesn’t. “Did you ever manage to put that spell on Jungkook?” 
- “No- but for the life of me I’m going to figure out why” you can tell by the way he shakes his head that it’s not normal. Yoongi snorts a little, sitting behind you to fiddle with the tail of your braid a little. The action is almost subconscious. “It’s probably for the best- otherwise we’d have to clean him out of the rafters constantly.” Seokjin laughs at that- but still looks uncomfortable.  
- “Did you-“ he turns to Yoongi to ask, but it’s you who answers. “He did.” Seokjin seems to straighten up- nodding softly. Holding out his hand for you to take it. “There’s something I want to show you then.” 
- The boy in the glass coffin is something out of a dream. The flowers surrounding him of every single texture and fragrance, orange blossoms, jasmine, autumn clematis, datura, and sweet woodruff all in piles around the sleeping boy. Blanketing him in heaps of white, filling the room with an intoxicating scent. 
- “Who is he?” you ask, watching the way that Seokjin tenderly rubs circles over the glass. Even underneath it- you can see how beautiful the boy is, gangly in his litheness, but with a strong jaw that spoke of a turning of age. You would have thought he was dead if not for the gentle rise of his chest in his pale white shirt. The collar parted a little to show his chest and the runes written on his skin. 
- “His name Taehyung, he’s my lover,” Seokjin looks down at him like he’s about to cry, “Though a better word for us would be soulmates.” finally you know what Seokjin would see if he looked into the mirror in his study. And why he kept it covered- why look at an imitation when he had the real thing upstairs. 
- There is nothing but the most gentle, the most aching love on Seokjin’s face, and also- the deepest sorrow. “Or like Yoongi calls me- his mate” you smile, tipping your shoulder into Seokjin to try and make that look go off his face, his eyes flicker from the sleeping man up to you. “Yes- I suppose that’s right.”
- “What’s wrong with him? why is he in there?” “I put him in an eternal sleep to stop his aging- until I can find a way for us to be together forever- and turn him immortal like me.” “So you’re going to try and turn him into a magician?” 
- Seokjin shakes his head, “Not quite- it’s not possible for there to be more like me.  if I could turn him into a sorcerer like me- then he’d be immortal. But Magic- it isn’t so easily tamed.” Seokjin looks down at his hands, the blue fire creeping between them like some sort of bug, winding back around his fingers, as quick as you can think it- the fire solidifies into a snake- all at once going back to fire- so quick you almost think you imagine it.
- “Magic is particular about its host. If it bonds with the wrong person it kills them- and almost everyone can’t take it. It’s only ever been my family who was able to take the magic. There hasn’t ever been another bloodline that’s been strong enough.” 
- Yoongi had told you about Seokjin’s family. And you’d also seen one of the portraits hanging deep in the castle. Almost as tall as the room it’s self- the people painted at a one to one scale. Half a dozen people, and at the center of it- a chubby-cheeked Seokjin with those luminous purple eyes, probably no more than 6. Holding hands tightly with a female child with equally as haunting blue eyes. All of them- just gone. “And my bloodline is all dead or gone- there’s not much difference.” 
- So Seokjin only has Taehyung and that glass coffin, he gets to watch his love sleep as long as he wants, but cannot touch him. Forever just too far away until he comes back to life. You watch as Seokjin leans- and puts his weight over Taehyung. If there was no glass, he would be lying across his lap. 
- “Once a year I wake him up- on my birthday. Taehyung makes it my birthday present. But mostly it’s to make sure he hasn’t gotten lost wherever he is in his dreams. Sometimes it’s harder than others to get him to come back, but the good thing is that it just feels like a night has passed for him so he doesn’t have to miss me too much.” 
- “Even though it’s been a year for you? Doesn’t it get lonely for you?” 
- His fingers keep stroking lovingly over the glass of the coffin. “Its hard- but it’s not impossible. To get the chance to live with him forever- to get enough time with him- I’d do anything. One day a year is better than an eternity of nothing.” Seokjin turns his eyes on you, “Yoongi wants to do the same for you and Jungkook.” 
- The breath gets knocked out of your lungs, as you turn it over in your head- eternal sleep, immortality, and all of it boiling down to Yoongi. Of course- he’d told you last night- but now it hits you- this room filled with flowers. Seokjin so close to his love and never able to touch him. When you think back to when you’d been stabbed- you remember some words- comforting- Yoongi’s voice that you’d held onto through the darkness. ‘I haven’t had nearly enough time with you yet’
- “But- Jungkook- he’s only a child.” 
- “He killed a man for you, Y/n, he’s not a child anymore, neither is Hobi” you can’t help it. You wipe your tears away with the back of your hand. “I want to talk with Yoongi again,” Seokjin pushes up from his lovers bedside, his hand lingering on the glass coffin- aching to reach inside and touch him for sure- but he can’t. You don’t want to imagine Yoongi in the same fate. 
- You wait while Seokjin gets Yoongi, looking at Taehyung thinking about yourself locked in some sort of glass contraption. The more you look at Taehyung- the more something about him sticks out. You hear footsteps behind you. Seokjin leaves the two of you to talk for a moment. Intent on retrieving some tea for the three of you. It’s still barely before noon. “I think I may have dreamed about him one point- years ago. There’s something familiar about his face.” 
- Yoongi puts his hand on the side of the glass as if to touch Taehyung. “Did you know him?” “Only for a little while- but just enough to understand why Seokjin could never bear loosing him. In many ways Taehyung is what makes the world sweet for Seokjin- no point in living if all there is only bitterness.” 
- “Is that how- is that how you feel about me? Is that what would happen to you if I died? When I die?” Yoongi pulls you close, and before he can manage to pin his emotions inside of his fire-filled chest they spark up like embers and he’s crying- holding you close. “Don’t say that just yet. But it is.” there is nothing else needed but that- Yoongi’s face pinned to your shoulder, his hands holding you like he knows he wont be able to protect you from the world and all the horrors in it. 
- Seokjin walks back in- carrying a tray piled high with cookies and a pot full of tea that smells sweet. Yoongi holds you around your shoulders while you sit, too tired, and still weak from your injury to stand any longer. You don’t look at Seokjin much when you talk, only at Taehyung. 
- “I don’t want one day a year- not with Jungkook and Hobi being so young. And Yoongi doesn’t want me to wait either so- if you can give me one day a month until Jungkook turns 18. We think that could be enough. And if- if Jungkook wants the same treatment, he can choose it for himself. But we can’t make that choice for him. If he doesn’t choose it then I don’t- I won’t-” 
- Yoongi brushes his hands over yours, “we don’t even know- let's ask him first before you start talking like that” But you both think that Jungkook will want it too- even if it could mean an eternity asleep. You’re already doing the math in your head. Putting it together how much time they’d have left to figure out a cure for your mortality. 
- One day a year with a lifespan of about 80 years- that means Seokjin and Yoongi had around 15,000 years before you died to find a way to make you like them. It wasn’t easy- Yoongi couldn’t help but feel like they didn’t have enough time. Seokjin’s been looking for a little over 100 and he hasn’t found much at all. 
- “There is one other thing” Seokjin looks worried- too worried to ask this of both of you. You catch him clutching Jungkook’s baby blanket like it could be a lifeline again- for the hundredth time since you’ve come here.  He’d taken it a few days ago to study it- try and see if he could put a tracking spell on it to find the owner. But unfortunately- the spell only leads back to Jungkook. Not too surprising since it had been in his possession for so long. “If- if Jungkook’s ancestors are somehow connected to my sister's disappearance, then I need to know.” 
- “Seokjin” Yoongi isn’t full of reproach- only pity- because before now- Seokjin’s never doubted the fact that his sister was dead. That was the only reason why she ever would have left him, or stayed away for the last hundred or so years. 
- Seokjin shakes his head “Only a sorcerer could have put done this spell Yoongi. if it was a witch it would have worn off years ago. and I’m the last one of my family left and I didn’t do the spell. If my sister is still out there- then I need to find out. I need you to show me where you found him.” 
- Seokjin turns to where you sit by his loves bedside, through it all; Taehyung’s chest rises up and down. He turns a little fitful in his sleep. “Taehyung won’t wake for another three weeks- if we go tomorrow- we can be there and back in one. I don’t trust Taehyung with anyone.” his eyes flash with a flood of purple, dangerous as he stares at you, “but I think I can trust you- that’s my price. I’ll put you to sleep like him if you look over him for me while we’re gone.” 
- You nod softly, “that’s more than reasonable” “make sure your children don’t terrorize my castle either” Seokjin rubs at his temples. “God they’re- Hoseok is entirely re-ordering my series on shrinking spells- he thinks he’s putting them back right but- ugh- it's going to take me an age to put them back in order”
- “You can feel what they’re doing?” you ask surprised. “I can feel everything” Seokjin says, melancholy and bleak. “Everything that goes on in this castle if I’m not distracted enough- it kind of gets-” Seokjin’s chest heaves a little unevenly. “Overwhelming. That’s why I can’t live close to anyone all of their thoughts and wants and needs on display- like you. I can tell that you want Yoongi to sit closer to you because you're worried about what he’ll be like when he can't touch you, and I can tell that he’s still calculating something- and it’s making you nervous- please stop- it’s making everything worse Yoon.”
- Yoongi straightens up, his cheeks blushing a little before he pulls his chair closer to yours. You give up after a moment, standing up to sit in his lap. Seokjin doesn’t look uncomfortable- only mollified. Still shaky. “Taehyung used to be the only thing that would make it better-“ 
- “Can you tell what he’s dreaming of?” the way that he’s looking at Taehyung, it’s like he wishes he could lean forward and pulls him closer. Curl up with him on his lap the same way Yoongi is doing with you.  
- “Sometimes” his fingers tap on the glass, “but most of the time it’s hard to see through the glass. And it’s almost worse then- because when you can see your love- but you can’t touch them or hold them or talk with them- it almost makes it worse” he turns to Yoongi sharply. “I guess you’ll find out.” 
- Seokjin’s chest is still heaving unevenly and it makes you alarmed- especially when you see one of the roses by the window shake so hard all its petals fall off- you can almost feel it- the way the air trembles. A glass bottle on the shelf rattles, and nearly falls off the edge before it’s pushed back. 
- Seokjin’s hands shake too. You reach out- gently covering Seokjin’s hands with yours over the glass coffin. “If you can’t see him- maybe talking about him will help calm you down” your voice is low and honeyed- like you’re comforting a startled doe. 
- Yoongi can see the way Seokjin visibly shutters at the contact- almost shakes too much and Yoongi curses himself a little internally. His friend has been on his own for so long and it’s so painful to see. He’s so incredibly starved for human touch. Seokjin leaves his hand under yours over the glass casket, lets you touch him even though it looks like it’s overwhelming to him- so much so that it almost hurts.
- Yoongi knows what that feels like- remembers feeling much the same the first time he’d ever touched you- those first lingering touches- when you’d pass him baby Jungkook- or the feel of his son in his arms- such a slight boneless weight, warm and soft in all the most endearing ways. 
- You’re such a natural healer- and Seokjin looks so distraught- so achingly lonely- you can’t not reach out and try to make it better. If he’s going to give you Yoongi your family forever- the least you can do is offer him this. 
- “Taehyung was- Taehyung is an effervescent person.” Seokjin looks at his love when he says the words- soft and slow. “There are certain people that only come along once in a lifetime- that you are destined to meet. My sister- she was the fortuneteller of the family- she was the one who always saw what was going to happen to us before it did. And if she’d been able to meet him- I’m sure she would have said it was fate, because there isn’t any other explanation for him loving me.” 
- “Humanity is a delicate thing- you all- chase immortality like you should want it- like memories should be eternal- but they aren’t. It didn’t use to bother me- not being able to remember where I was born or how I grew up- but Taehyung- Taehyung made me not want to forget a single second.”
- “He was a farm boy, grew up with a big family as poor as could be but never with an empty stomach. even now,  if I think hard enough- I can still taste his peach tart on my tongue. He makes it for me every year on my birthday. I wake him up and he makes me a peach tart and we eat it. Tae calls it “every day a birthday” 
- “He’s the one who made me put him to sleep you know- I was prepared to live with him until he died and then- find a way to end my life myself- I wanted it- I more than wanted it but Tae- he saw right through me. He almost died just before. Got hit in the head during one of the last battles.” 
- Seokjin looks at Yoongi, and Yoongi nods. “I remember, Namjoon and I were fighting on the mountainside, and we saw this black cloud flood the valley- like smoke. And by the time it dissipated, there was only Seokjin and Tae left.” you bristle internally- wondering how powerful the man who sits across from you is if he can fell an army in a single day. 
- “I put him to sleep so that I could heal him- so that he wouldn’t die. The initial spell wasn’t much different than the one that’s on him now. I stitched him together cell by cell until his brain was healed. I was so worried when he woke up that he wouldn’t remember me but he did- and the first words out of his mouth were; ‘I knew you would die for me- but you also have to live Jinnie- both of us do- I’m not letting me be the reason you die.”
- You look up sharply at Yoongi when he intakes a jagged breath- “would you do the same for me Yoongi?” he can’t answer, only keeps holding your hand. And you know just by the way his eyes flood with tears and his shoulders hunch in that yes- that is the case. 
- Suddenly you’re flustered, standing up, “Okay this is a lot- we need to hug it out” you gesture expectantly with your open arms, suddenly not able to handle all of the emotion in the room without doing something about it.
- Yoongi gives an aborted protest at you standing. And Seokjin flushes all the way to his ears again. Both of them folding in around you- your arm coming up to loosely tug Seokjin into your arms and he goes gratefully after a moment of reluctance. Both of them holding onto you limply. “I don’t get hugs a lot.” Seokjin says, his voice sounding small and shy. 
- “Well it’s a good thing I have some to spare.” Yoongi gives you a thankful look before he tucks his face in close kissing your forehead and then dragging burying his face in your shoulder. both of them taller than you, hunched over to hug you properly. 
- The three of you hug for a bit and then you pull apart first- because as much as you are always happy to comfort him. Your side is starting to ache a little- and you need to sit down. Both of them understand, even if you do see Seokjin’s hand reach out a little at first- unwilling to part with his first source of human comfort in a little less than a year. 
- “Tell me more- tell me all of the good things” Seokjin launches into the story of when they first met without a second thought- smiling this time. Yoongi sends you a thankful look. Somewhere along the line. The room has stopped shaking with Seokjin’s tremulous emotions. And with his focus firmly on all of the happy memories he has with Taehyung he relaxes a little. 
- All in all though, it might not be the best moment for him to lose his concentration. As your 15 and 13-year-old sons are left unchaperoned in a house full of very magical and very dangerous objects and spellbooks. Not the best moment for Seokjin to be occupied.
- If he hadn’t been so distracted, he might have realized sooner- before it was too late. 
- Jungkook and Hoseok have found their way through the library and into a second more hidden library, then down a set of steps that where slippery with moss- through a separate hidden passageway and then through a door- which didn’t open for Hoseok- and then miraculously and for some unknown reason opened for Jungkook. (But don’t worry- you’ll discover why in the next 5,000 words or so- so please be patient) 
- “Huh- Seokjin- Hyung was really right- the spells really won’t work on you” Jungkook just shrugs, happily shoving back the heavy iron door using all his body weight to push it open. “He should have put a real lock on it- then that might have kept me out” 
- Hoseok smiles at Jungkook’s cockiness- only 13 and Hoseok can only think that if Jungkook where a character in one of your storybooks, He could have been a formidable child thief. “And besides what do they expect- we don’t have anything to do here. It's his fault for not giving us something to do!” 
- When Jungkook grins at Hobi- Hobi can almost feel the future. The mischief that both of them are going to get into once Hoseok gets large enough to carry them both around the world- they want to see it all. 
- Hoseok is glad- after a few days of being in a dream-like fog- it seems as though Jungkook is almost back to normal. There have been a few moments- one where he saw Jungkook flinch back from some warm water- washing up for dinner. And another, when he’d washed the clothes they’d been in that day to get out the blood. But other than that- he seems to be handling everything as well as can be expected. 
- Hoseok knows (as Hoseok always knows) that Jungkook is waiting for the right time to vent to you and Yoongi about it. Hoseok wants to too- and figure out why he doesn’t feel as affected- and it’s not like he feels heartless- like he doesn’t care that he killed people. No- he feels guilty but he figures those men had made a choice just like Hoseok had made a choice.
- The room is piled high with all but the creepiest of things- crystals glow a dull purple in the wall- as glass eyes curl and blink from a few crevasses here and there where the plaster has fallen away and the bricks are exposed. Glittering potion bottles, teeth in glass jars as well as something fluffy and black that taps at the side of one with sharp claws. 
- A glowing sphere here and there- nothing too bad- nothing too out of the ordinary. Stacks of black leather diary’s stacked on a shelf- more shelves crammed with things. Jungkook dashes off before with a happy hum before Hoseok can keep up, preoccupied with taking everything in. The younger disappearing through the maze of shelves and piles.
- Hoseok’s wades through the collection slower. There is something about the smell down here, Hoseok’s nose smarting with something acrid, that he doesn’t like- doesn’t want to be around at all. “Jungkookie?” Hoseok calls, walking through the isles of potions and books; somehow he’d lost sight of jungkook almost immediately. He walks too quickly, almost knocking over a fishbowl full of squids with human faces. His head bumping into some sort of crusty dried plant- the flower blooms when he touches it- but then dies when he moves away.
- For some reason he feels like he should apologize to it- and when he does- the flower bows back.  A shiver works his way down his spine. A feeling like he’s being watched by something old and ancient sinking its claws into the back of his neck. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears.
- “Ugh... Kookie! I don’t think we should be down here!” he calls, looking frantically around for his companion. and then he spots Jungkook, or the back of his head, walking forward slowly. It’s then that he sees it, set into a wall of shelves, a glass box faintly glowing, its door sliding open with a faint squeak.
- Hoseok can feel the pounding in his ears strengthen as Jungkook walks towards it growing closer to thunder. the light in the box, a long glowing stick that can only be described as a wand pulsing in time with the thundering in his ears- probably in Jungkook’s too. He shouts Jungkook’s name again but he doesn’t turn.  
- When Hoseok speaks it feels like he’s talking through water, runs forward to pull Jungkook back from the box, because whatever it is it can’t be good but the younger just pushes him off. It’s then that Hoseok realizes that something is wrong- terribly wrong.
- Jungkook’s eyes are wide, pupils dilated and glassy, lips parts as he stares at the wand, not even seeing Hoseok, “Kookie- stop I don’t think we should mess with-“ before Hoseok can stop him, Jungkook is reaching out, touching the wand. It’s so gentle, almost a caress. Hoseok sees it- the moment Jungkook’s brown eyes flood with bright blue- and the world explodes in a cloud of energy and magic.
- Seokjin is just telling you about the time that Taehyung tried to convince Seokjin into dying Taehyung’s hair bright pink when he pauses in the middle of a sentence. Mouth hanging open for a second before he’s cursing and disappearing in a flash- one moment present and the next not. You and Yoongi hear his voice a moment later- booming out with some sort of spell. “The basement- they found their way into- shit- fuck!”
- You and Yoongi break out into a run, and the house seems to move around you- aiding in guiding you towards them- the floors sloping down when you need and doors opening seconds before you pass them almost making Yoongi almost collide to one of them more than once. Yoongi keeps a hand on your side- supporting you enough that it barely hurts when you run. “Not that way you idiot- this way.”
- The belly of the castle gets progressively darker, glowing crystals hanging in alcoves and mushrooms growing in crevasses. Little hidden creatures that definitely are not mice making little screeching noises and running from the direction of where Seokjin guides you. Every living thing- even the moss on the walls, slowly itching away from whatever’s happened down there. You can’t run as quickly on account of your wounds but Yoongi doesn’t let you walk alone. Supporting you as you hobble along.
- “Jungkook!” you shout when you see- your son, floating a few feet above in the air, a diffuse cloud of light blue fog surrounding him- Seokjin is quick to stop you with a hand, “don’t touch him! If you want to live we can’t touch him!” Yoongi catches you around your waist just in time. Keeping you from lunging for your son. your shrill shriek of “Jungkook! Hoseok!” 
- Seokjin holds his arms stiff, his hands and fingers bent at awkward angles. Magic sparking between his fingers, the bright purple fire morphs into bubbles on the end of each finger-popping off as they float to Jungkook. Combining and growing in size- encasing him in a glassy cage. Seokjin is the one keeping Jungkook contained, the only thing that separates you all from life- and oblivion.
- A pile of books stirs next to you and a fully shifted Hoseok stirs, tossing books to the ground and sneezing in all of the dust. Shifting in a smooth movement, Yoongi reaching out to touch him- to make sure he’s there an uninjured. “Oh Hobi- oh” you try as he runs to you shifting mid-step, hitting each other and holding on, his head tucked under your chin. 
- “What happened!? What did you touch!?” Seokjin silences your protests of his tone with a look. “Just a- a wand I think?” Hoseok is small and scared in your arms. Seokjin looks enraged. “Don’t you know not to touch other people's things? Jungkook could have blown this castle and half the country to dust! And now he’s-“ 
- Seokjin chokes, the magic taking the air out of his lungs, he stumbles, but straightens. Making another complex movement with his hands when the bubble tries to swell. Contained by both his hands now- not just one. “Now it might be too late.” 
- “Seokjin- what happened to him- can he be-” “Yoongi please- it’s all I can do to keep this contained- he must have-” Seokjin cannot meet Yoongi’s eyes, “The wand is trying to bind with him.” The glowing stone at the center of Seokjin’s own chest seems to glow and pulsate stronger at the words. Yoongi almost falls to his knees- no- not Jungkook. You and Hoseok are confused, horror on Yoongi’s face, Hoseok already stepping in-between you and Jungkook- like that will keep you safe from whatever threat.
- “What does this mean?”  it hits him, almost makes him fall to his knees, Hoseok can’t breathe. He can’t feel Jungkook’s soul bond at all- not an inch of it. The light in his chest- the glowing soft press that always lets him know that he’s not alone- isn’t there anymore.
- Seokjin says the words steady, the way only an immortal can. “It means Jungkook is going to die.  And if I don’t keep this bubble around the magic- so will all of us.” 
- Jungkook doesn’t know what happened, one moment he was standing in that room and the next he’s being blown back, back through the darkness and a strange pulsating blue light and into a dark unfamiliar night.
- Also- straight into a puddle. His hands hit the mud dark water soaking his clothes- He splutters as the rain hits his face, his eyes focusing on the dark tree line. The buildings- peaked roofs with bright green tiles- different. He’s never seen them or any that looked like them before. But there are lights in the houses. 
- He stands, his back and pant legs soaked with rain, he figures- there must have been some sort of transporting spell on whatever he touched (because he’d been reading Seokjin’s spell books every chance he gets and he’d discovered that those are a thing). A sudden horror fills him- because wherever he is- it’s certainly not close to Seokjin’s. The air feels colder here- closer to winter than to summer. Strange- he can almost see his breath exhaled in a cloud of blue when he heaves a shaking breath.
- He’s scared for about half a moment- before he hears the telltale whistle of dragon wings- almost unnoticeable- and he see’s the black wings faintly in the night sky, blocking out the stars. A sight he can recognize only because he’s seen it before countless times. Thank god- he thinks- because where ever he’s managed to end up Yoongi has still found him. 
- He starts to run, almost calling out his name. He ends up face to face with him after Yoongi lands soundlessly knowing to stay a little ways back incase his dad doesn’t see him yet. Yoongi’s eyes sparking with a familiar yellow glow when he runs forward to greet him. “I don’t know what happened dad, one moment I was there and now I’m-” 
- It surprises him- when Yoongi opens his maw and spits fire.
- He flinches, but it only takes him opening his eyes realizing that he’s not dead he’s not burning. The fire isn’t going around him- but through him he realizes when he holds his hand up. He’s confused- his mind tries to justify that it’s just a spell- the last few weeks have led him to assume that- the amount of charms that he’d begged and bugged Seokjin to put on him. (Much to the elder's frustration when the vast majority of spells just don’t work) Some sort of protective charm it must be. Like the one on his scarf that Seokjin had seemed so so interested in. 
- He hears the screaming- the ear-piercing shrieking as the people run out of their houses- a gong sounds. But its already too late. “Dad- you’ve got to stop why are you-” but Yoongi just barrels through him, pulling down the roof of a house with one grab of a claw. Jungkook realizes that he must be dreaming when he tries to grab a sword sitting by the stoop of one of the houses and his hand goes straight through the handle.
- Jungkook stares at his hand for a moment- Dreaming- this must be a dream- that’s the only justification for why Yoongi would be doing this- why he would ignore Jungkook and why he would be hurting all of these people. 
- All of the carnage- the people burning and screaming- some of them running, trying to roll on the ground to put their burning clothes out. Jungkook stands in the middle of it all- powerless to do anything. Jungkook watches as Yoongi tosses one back against a tree. The mans back breaking with an audible shatter that jars his ears. 
- When the carnage stops He’s crying, climbing over a broken house. looking into the face of a charred corpse when Yoongi finally shifts human. “Dad” he’s crying when he tries to walk to him. “Why did you do this? Why did you hurt these people? Please I need to know- I can’t-” 
- Yoongi doesn’t respond, looks at the surrounding world with disgust and hatred, and turns to walk away- he can’t hear Jungkook- can’t hear him at all. “FUCK- JUST LOOK AT ME GOD DAMN IT!” Jungkook shouts, near hysterical. He feels his words startle something- a small flinch under the boards in his feet. And suddenly a shrill crying starts up. 
- That makes Yoongi turns at that, surprise in his face, he moves a heavy board and Jungkook moves to let him. He recognizes the red baby blanket first- how many times had he twined that little thing around his neck- loving the familiar comfort of the fabric. The squirming little thing is small- probably no more than 6 months old at the most, blood on his cheek. 
- Jungkook reaches a hand to touch the scar on his face. “That’s me isn’t It.” no one is there to answer it as he watches. Looks- and doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. 
- It’s- this is a memory- not a dream. 
- The baby version of himself settles into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook watches his father look at him. A sudden gentleness in his eyes. “Don’t- don’t leave me here dad- don’t let me die please” his words fall on unhearing ears but the rain starts up again. And Jungkook watches as Yoongi uses his body to shield the small red mass from the deluge above. His words are soft and shaky, “it’s okay- don’t cry- it’s gonna be fine I’ll- I’ll take you somewhere safe.” 
- A tugging fixes in his gut- a feeling like he’s just about to vomit and then he’s thrown into the next memory. He’s at the cottage. The one he barely remembers- but the leaky roof, the chicken coup, and the front porch- that he knows. The times he’d fallen up those two steps. The soft feeling of a baby chick in his hands, a drop of water falling on his cheek- that he remembers. 
- Unlike before- this world is all golden tones- the trees shining bright green. A happy memory at golden hour. And on the front porch leaning against the railing- you and Yoongi stand a few inches apart, and he can tell just by looking at you that you haven’t quite fallen in love yet. 
- Your voices low- you don’t seem to notice Jungkook standing in the grass, but he hadn’t really expected either of you to see him at this point. To his left- he hears a noise- a startling in the chicken coop, a chicken indignant at being bothered, a small body chasseing them.
- “You’ve never told me- how you got Jungkook you know? And if we’re going to do this co-parenting thing, I feel like that’s something I should know.” Your words knock Jungkook’s attention from the younger version of himself back to you both.  Standing next to each other- not letting your shoulders brush, but he see’s you lean a little and gathers that you might want too. 
- “Do you want the truth- or a pretty lie?” your smile is small, Yoongi’s too. “The truth is preferable- we’ll have more than enough time to lie to each other” 
- “Did you kill his parents?” Jungkook can tell the sudden question startles Yoongi. By the way his jaw goes tight and his eyes go down. Won’t meet yours. “It’s alright if you did- not much we can do about it now.” 
- “Are you sure?” Yoongi asks, “yes- I think if we raise him at all well- when he finds out- it will hurt sure. But if we raise him well enough he’ll know that you didn’t have a choice.” Your voice dies in your throat. When you see Yoongi’s crestfallen expression. “Yoongi what are you thinking?” 
- “I’m thinking that He’ll hate me when he finds out- he should hate me- you should hate me- do you know how many humans I’ve killed? How much blood is on my hands? You shouldn’t- I shouldn’t-’” 
- Jungkook sees Yoongi flinch back when you reach out to him- on the porch, Jungkook can hear a giggle- a small black head of hair that must be his own poking up in the tall grass. Chasing a chicken through the underbrush in his direction. God- he doesn’t ever remember being that small.
 “Yoongi” you try to stop him as he spills out into the soft grass. A few feet from where Jungkook stands. Golden light shining overly bright in his black horns. “I should go.”
- You look scared when you ask, “are you going to come back?” “I don’t know” he’s being honest Jungkook realizes, hand on the railing. You look so much younger than Jungkook ever remembers seeing you.
- The chicken dashes across Jungkook’s path, and in the grass- a small body tottels- Jungkook looks down at himself, so small and innocent- even now- adventurous. And for a brief moment, he stares into his own eyes- and sees a flash of curiosity in his child self’s face. Jungkook looks around to find something his child self might be staring at and finds nothing but himself. The young boy reaches up a hand and lets out a happy giggle- pointing at Jungkook like he can see him. 
- The next moment is much like the first, all dark and black tones. Only this time the earth is sandy and sooty beneath his feet. There are so many of Hobi’s kind here- great big birdlike dragons. But it’s also as chaotic as the first. The world on fire red feathers falling from the sky. Jungkook is inside of an unfamiliar house looking out the window.
- Jungkook can hear the men shouting outside, as he looks around the house- the nest. It’s a simple accept for the golden plate wear and the shining tapestry on the wall. He hears a crash a roar. And massive being crashes into the doorway as fire roars outside. The dragon shifts- the woman limping in her human form- her golden horns polished and sharpened to points on either side of her cheeks.
- “Hoseok! Hoseok baby we have to go- go with your sister and get out of here” a small redhead- his soulmates head pokes up from underneath the kitchen table his horn catches on the edge as he stands sending the gold plate wear clanging to the ground. He runs for the woman, his little hands fisting in her long patterned skirt.  “No! I won’t leave without you alpha!” the woman grabs a long sword hanging by the door. “Stay here- your sister will be back in a moment! I can’t stay my little hatchling” she turns away, tearing Hoseok’s hands from where they clutch at her skirt forcefully.  
- And Jungkook watches, horror-stricken as Hoseok heads out after her. So small, shouldering his arms as he heads out into the bloodbath- too young to understand. Too young to understand and yet Jungkook knows that Hoseok will grow up a lot today- that he won’t ever really be the same. “Stop Hobi- you can’t“ Hoseok’s head whips around at the last moment, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, looking around the room for the source of the voice- but sees nothing. Continuing on after a moment. 
- The next few memories are a flurry- go too fast for Jungkook to really gather what they mean, one after another. The memories piling over each other like pages in a book. Hoseok in dragon form looking down at a younger version of himself, his tongue flicking out to lick at his cheek. Dialogue from you and Yoongi spoken through the darkness. “How did this happen- how did they get through the mountains?”
- Yoongi’s voice answering your question. “Happens more often than you think- it’s easier to get through in the south- where the snow doesn’t fall as thick. My parents died in much the same way.” The fog around Jungkook thickens, sinking into his lungs and choking him. Jimin voice- not yours, delicate and lilting. The sensation of a hand dragging through his hair. Asleep by a fireplace with the taste of the salty ocean on his tongue.
- “Dragons and humans are like separate sides of the same coin- can’t stab one without running through the other.” Yoongi agreeing, “A nest gets raided- and a dragon like me gets sent to kill a whole town. If we keep fighting- the bloodshed is never going to end Namjoon.” 
- The next time Jungkook lands on even footing, he’s in the cave in the mountains and everything is golden again. He can see out the wide opening from this angle, and when he sees the green dragon in the sky circling above. He remembers this day, the first time he’d seen a dragon that wasn’t Hobi or Yoongi. He remembers how scared he’d been- Yoongi attacking with an almost feral power. He looks back into the cave as the dragon descends to your spot in the rocks waiting for his father to take action and protect you. 
- But Yoongi still isn’t turning, still doesn’t see what’s about to happen, Jungkook’s anxiety builds as he sees the dragon start into a low spiral. Spotted you in the rocks. Jungkook looks down and sees a red head and a black head dancing here and there as they play a game that Jungkook’s forgotten the rules of. Looking back at Yoongi- any moment now- Yoongi will realize what’s about to happen, any moment now he’ll come to your rescue. 
- But time ekes on- precious seconds- his father will be too late if he doesn’t go now. And you will die.  Jungkook doesn’t think- just runs over and tugs- actually tugs on Yoongi’s sleeve. 
- This time- his hand doesn’t just go through Yoongi, this time he actually touches him. “Did you want a snack?” Jungkook tugs again, because Yoongi still isn’t turning. When Yoongi turns he still sees no one there. He calls his name once, and then Hobi’s and by that time he sees, he’s jumping through the opening to fly to your aid leaving Jungkook standing in that cave. 
- Jungkook feels his shoulders curl in on himself, “I want to go home- please just- take me back” and the cloud that surrounds him- what can only be magic- listens to him. 
- This is different than Jimin's plant magic, the wordless sort of magic that has the world leaning in. The kind makes the world stop in place and turn around him. Every inch of intent spoken by his mouth an order that time will bow too. 
- If dragons and humans are two sides of the same coin- then so are Seokjin and Jungkook. 
- Jungkook wakes up- his eyes shooting open in the bubble- no whites of his eyes, only bright blue. The bubble bursts in a flash of power and light that hits you like a gale. Its only Yoongi’s quick thinking that keeps you and Hoseok from falling backward. Even Seokjin has to bring up an arm to shield his eyes from the flash of blinding light. Jungkook hits the floor with his hands out, catching himself before he falls. 
-   “I don’t hate you” is the first thing he says when he lifts his head, chest heaving scrambling to his feet. Running to Yoongi without a second thought tears in is eyes. 
- “What- Kookie-“ Yoongi barely comprehends his youngest throwing his arms around his neck, pulling him in close tightly for a bruising hug. “it’s okay- you’re safe now Jungkook” Jungkook pulls back- a smile in his face and tears in his eyes. “Dad I really don’t- I saw it- I saw you- the night you got me- and you need to believe me- I don’t hate you.” 
- “Jungkook what are you talking about,” Hoseok asks, disbelieving, so relieved to feel the soulbond back in place in his chest that he’s breathless.  Jungkook looks between your faces- one after the other. Smiling so wide his nose scrunches. “I saw it- your memories, the night you found me! I was going to be a dragon hunter wasn’t I? But I wouldn’t have wanted to be. That’s why you didn’t let me fight, but I love you guys- I’d never hurt you- I understand why you did what you did and this doesn’t change a thing- I understand everything now.” 
- “Well that makes one of us- is anyone going to tell me what just happened?” Hoseok snarks.  “I don’t know either Hobi,” you say, shaking your head. But Yoongi is almost crying as Jungkook’s words hit him. Because how could it be? how does he know? and does he really understand? His first instinct is to believe that Jungkook couldn't. but then, when he sees Jungkook’s face, sad- but not angry- not at Yoongi at least, all of the fight going out of him. 
- That’s the second time Jungkook ever sees his father cry. Touching his cheek and pulling him in. “My little hatchling I-“ he’s at a loss for words, something that feels like pride and hope clawing its way- vicious and golden up through his chest. 
- Yoongi’s arms reach out- tugging the four of you close- he can barely get his arms around you all- the three people that matter the most in the world to him. All in one spot. Yoongi holds onto the three of you tighter, like his own arms will be enough to shield them from the horrors of the world.
- Besides all of you Seokjin falls to his knees, his eyes unable to leave Jungkook. Uneven breath heaving in his chest- his focus- his whole world narrowing down to Jungkook too. 
- “I’m not- I’m not alone- I can’t believe it- I-” 
- The four of you look up where Seokjin sits, pulling himself over on his knees his trembling hands reaching out for Jungkook. A part of you that feels fiercely protective wants to reach out and stop him from touching your son- too soon after having him in mortal peril. “Seokjin- what do you mean?” beside you, Hoseok straightens up; letting out a small sigh of relief- this has been a stressful 30 minutes- that’s for certain. 
- “Hold out your arm Jungkook” Jungkook does, where once his forearms had been bare, now a light hovers below his skin. a line of brilliantly glowing blue the length of his forearm. The magic wand embedded in his skin where it will sit for the end of time- or until Jungkook dies- whichever comes first. 
- The veins in his arms glowing too- taking the magic to the rest of his body. Not rejecting it at all- but growing to accommodate the magic, which has chosen Jungkook as his host. 
- The four of you huddle around him, and when Hoseok tries to reach out and touch it too- a little bolt of lightning sparks and shocks him he flinches But reaches forward again- in awe anyway. Pleased to find the same thing doesn’t happen the second time when he clenches the hand of his soul-bonded partner. 
- “If you where human bonding with the wand would have killed you” Seokjin’s hands are soft on Jungkook’s arm as he traces the line of the wand almost lovingly. “What does it mean” Jungkook breathes, the wand feels Bulging and hard underneath Jungkook’s skin not uncomfortable, but not pleasant either.
- “It means that you’re not human Jungkook- you’re a sorcerer like me.”
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Calculated Risk (Anakin x Reader)
Author’s Note: Here’s the Anakin fic I said was coming out today! Don’t worry, this one is all fluff after the last angst one I posted haha. I hope you guys enjoy! And as always, my tag list/ask box/requests are always open! Thanks so much!
Requested?: Yes, by @cluelessgurl - “I’d love to see a jedi reader coming to Anakin’s rescue during a battle, even though he felt like he didn’t need it but being grateful anyway, just the reader being badass basically lmao. That doesn’t mean the reader doesn’t get a scolding from Anakin after the mission though with some fluff of course.”
Summary: You swoop into battle to help your crush, Anakin, who has vehemently denied the need for any back-up on his mission. 
Calculated Risk
Anakin Skywalker x Reader
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: None, I don’t think!
“Ready to report a status update.” Anakin’s voice crackles to life on a hologram behind you. Out of curiosity, you turn to see Obi-Wan talking to Anakin.
“Yes?” Obi-Wan prompts, raising an eyebrow. You drift over to Obi-Wan’s side, ignoring the glance he gives you as you train your eyes on Anakin. Yes, you have a crush on Anakin. But it’s not like he actually likes you back, so it’s no big deal.
“A small droid army has intercepted us and we are working our way through,” Anakin says, and you hear blaster shots firing all around him. 
“Do you need...help?” Obi-Wan asks, hearing a few grunts from clones who are getting shot.
“Oh, no, we’re fine. I’ve got this mission completely under control, don’t even worry about it.” Anakin chuckles, refusing help a little too much. You and Obi-Wan give each other a knowing glance.
“Anakin, we can easily send a squad-”
“Obi-Wan, I assure you, I can handle this myself. Ahsoka’s here, too, and she would say the same thing. Right, Ahsoka?” Anakin calls out.
“Master, we need your help over here! There’s too many of them!” Ahsoka’s voice comes ‘off-screen’ from the hologram.
“See? We’re doing just fine on our own. Gotta go!” Anakin quickly ends the transmission.
Obi-Wan turns to you, clearly still not convinced by Anakin’s antics. 
“It’s obvious that he needs a little help, but he refuses to call in more troops. If I send in reinforcements behind his back, he won’t be happy about it.” Obi-Wan grumbles.
“When has Anakin being grumpy ever held you back?” You laugh.
“Well-”
“What if I could offer a compromise?” You interject again, actually happier with your plan than what Obi-Wan wants to do.
“And what do you suggest we do instead?” He lifts an eyebrow at you and folds his arms. You have a habit of getting into trouble just like Anakin, so he probably doesn’t trust your ideas too often.
“Send me.” You grin triumphantly at him.
“Send...you?” He repeats back slowly, turning the idea over in his mind. It’s not a no, so you continue to explain yourself.
“I’m one of the best Jedi Knights, even you can’t deny that. I can be reinforcements. But I’m still not a squad being dispatched to him so he can’t be mad because you didn’t technically ‘send reinforcements.’” You smirk, knowing you’ve outwitted Anakin. Obi-Wan sighs, but you see the small smile he’s trying to hide.
“You have a fair point...and Anakin is always happy to see you, so he won’t be upset that you’ve been sent.” Obi-Wan thinks out loud.
“What?” 
“What?” 
“I’m...gonna go now.” You murmur, still not sure if you heard him correctly.
“Okay, stay safe. And...keep Anakin out of trouble, please.” He sighs. You grin wickedly at him.
“You’re telling me that?” You ask.
“That’s true, you egg on his antics... Still, you know the difference between reckless stupidity and calculated risks that need to be taken.” He groans, motioning for you to leave already.
“Sure, Obi-Wan. I’ll see you once I save Anakin and complete the mission!” You laugh, running to the hangar. You climb into your speeder and take off from the cruiser, headed toward Anakin.
~+~
Upon your arrival on the planet, an imperial bomber greets you. You try to maneuver your ship around the blast, but unfortunately, it takes out one of your wings and your speeder starts to go down. 
As the ship plummets to the ground, you (as gracefully as possible) flip out of the top of it and land on a nearby rock, not too far from the battle. You watch as your ship makes contact with the ground and blows up. Sigh, you suppose you’ll have to take a ship back with the others.
You slide down the rock you’re currently on and join in the battle, taking down droids as you fight your way to Anakin and his crew. 
You spot Anakin fighting near Ahsoka, getting pushed back by the sheer amount of droids trying to overwhelm them. That’s the thing about the empire. They may not have good fighters, but they had a lot of them.
“Anakin!” You call, flinging your lightsaber like a boomerang through the sea of droids. You call it back to your hand with the force and find that you have successfully cleared a path to Anakin. You decide to take your chance while you have it and run to him.
“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” Anakin grunts, still fighting off droids. You deflect a blaster shot that was aimed at him while he’s preoccupied.
“Helping you, duh.” You make a face, jumping into battle next to him. The two of you work flawlessly together, making quick work of the droids.
“I said I didn’t need reinforcements.” He sighs.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not reinforcements. I just came here to see you, of course.” You wink at him, taking down another entire line of droids. Anakin watches in almost-awe as you fight off the droids, much more efficient than the rest of his crew, and maybe even him. He’d never admit that, though.
He watches you do a backflip over a droid, slicing it straight through the middle as you land behind it. This elicits a chuckle from his lips.
“Always one to put on a show, huh?” He smirks, glancing over at you as if he wasn’t just staring.
“Only if I care who’s watching,” You flirt, giving him a quick smile as the two of you fall back into sync.
It’s only a moment later when you speak again.
“Bend down,” You tell him.
“What?”
“Bend down.”
“Why?”
“Just do it!” You groan. Does he always have to question you? You never question his antics.
“Fine!” He crouches down and slashes at the feet of droids for a moment. You grin wickedly and use his back as a stepping stone, propelling yourself forward as you slice straight through a line of at least five droids.
“Gotcha!” You laugh, continuing to have fun despite being in the midst of a battle. Anakin shakes his head at you, but you see the small smile gracing his face.
“Always so dramatic with your fighting,” He tsks.
“Says Anakin Skywalker, the man who always has to have a dramatic entrance.” You tease him. He’s silent for a moment.
“...Touché.”
~+~
Once the battle is over, you look over to Anakin who had made his way across the battlefield while fighting. He’s walking over to you, and he doesn’t look quite happy.
“Before you get mad-” But before you can even finish your sentence, he roughly grabs your wrist and yanks you over to the side of the group that was forming to get ready to leave.
He lets go of you and turns around to look at you, his eyes scanning all over your body. You suddenly feel slightly self-conscious.
“Um...Anakin? Are you checking me out?” You try to tease, but your words seem more shy than bold like you intended. 
“Checking you out for injuries, yes.” He huffs, but you see a slight blush rise to his cheeks, making you feel a little bit triumphant for at least a small victory.
“We have a medic for that.” You muse, growing bolder now that you know you’re not the only one slightly flustered.
“I know but- you could’ve gotten hurt, (Y/n). Why did you come out here?” He seems slightly distressed even after he concludes that you definitely didn’t get any injuries.
“I came to...help? Didn’t you hear me when I arrived?” 
“I didn’t need the help-” 
“Anakin I was literally here. I fought the battle, too, and I saw how many enemies there were. You needed the help.” 
“I...I didn’t want it to be you, though.”
You’re hurt by his words. Your brows furrow and you start to turn away from him. If he’s going to be like that, then you’ll just leave. You don’t have to put up with this.
“No, wait! Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…” He grabs your upper arm to stop you. He rubs the back of his neck nervously as you turn to look back at him.
“How did you mean it, then?” You hum skeptically.
“I...I just worry about you, that’s all. I didn’t want you to get hurt because of me, I wouldn’t be able to take the guilt.” He murmurs, much quieter than he was before. You turn back to face him fully again, stepping just slightly closer to him than you were earlier. His face is downcast to the floor.
“Why?” You ask him, tilting his head up to meet your eye.
“I like you.” He blurts out. This makes your eyes widen in surprise. You didn’t think he’d be so...blunt with it.
But once again, before you can continue he tries to explain himself further.
“I like you, (Y/n), and I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt. I wanted to handle myself so that you...well, you wouldn’t have to come down here and you’d be impressed by me getting it done all by myself.” He explains, almost rambling at this point. You put a finger to his lips, successfully shutting him up.
“Ani, I’m already impressed by you every day. You don’t need to take on an entire droid army to impress me, but I do appreciate the thought.” You giggle, pressing a feather-light kiss to his cheek. You see his face flush again and you smile at the thought of making him feel this way.
You see movement in the background and you look behind Anakin to see some boxes shifting slightly to block the two of you off from the rest of the group.
“What are you doing?” You ask Anakin, knowing that he’s definitely using the force to do that. 
“Just moving some boxes in the way of prying eyes so I can do this.” You don’t have time to react before his lips are on yours. You kiss him back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck as his arms snake around your waist. 
Once the two of you pull apart for air, there’s a goofy grin on both your faces. 
“I was wondering when that was going to happen,” You giggle.
“We’ll have to keep this a secret from the Order.” Anakin breathes out, the smile not leaving his face as he takes your features in from up this close.
“I’m willing to take the risk.” You smile at him, kissing him again. He melts into your touch.
“Good, because I am, too.” He kisses you one last time. You finally break away from each other, knowing that staying here too long would cause suspicion.
“See you on the ship, Anakin.” You wink at him and walk toward the boxes, shifting them back with the force as you join the group again.
Anakin trails behind a bit, a dumbstruck look still on his face. You’d tell him to be more subtle, but it’s only Anakin’s squad of clones and you know they wouldn’t say anything. That, and it’s too cute for you to ruin.
Obi-Wan was right about you being the one to take calculated risks that you deemed worth it, and you’ve never been more sure about anything: Anakin is a calculated risk that is more than worth it.
~~~~~
Tags: @spideyboipete @rowley-with-ackerman @official-hitmxn @anakinlove
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amintyworld · 3 years
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Dream SMP Fusion AU:
Certainly not me thinking about a Steven Universe AU for Dream SMP because fusions
Also, just to note: Not all fusions are for romantic relationships, so please no shipping since many of the creators are uncomfortable with that. The one somewhat romantic relationship fusion mentioned is between the characters Schlatt and Quackity, and are the only ones classified as such for the lore and story already created - I do not ship them whatsoever. Thank you.
Also, feel free to use these ideas with credit!
TW: Abusive Relationship, Toxic Realtionship, manipulation.
So like, what if during the L’manburg Independence War L’manburg was the only ones who really fused with each other, and the Dream SMP just never really thought it was useful and therefore didn’t really use it all that much for battle, pvp, etc. 
They discovered fusion one day while building the wall when a bit of debris was about to fall on Fundy and Wilbur swooped in to save him, and suddenly... a whole completely different person stood in their place. It didn’t last very long, but Wilbur from then on was determined to learn all he could about it and understand it. 
Wilbur couldn’t seem to explain his findings much scientifically, but he wrote up a journal on all he learned - how the fusion seems to combine and showcase the best parts of each individual person.
An iconic Steven Universe Scene takes place (For you SU fans, when Smoky Quartz first came to be) when Tommy in a effort to get his discs back one day tries to take Dream head on, pushing away Tubbo’s help. Tommy gets throughly beat up by Dream and in a heartfelt moment Tommy tells Tubbo that no matter what he does Dream will always win against him because he’s not strong enough. Then, Tubbo says that that’s not true, that Tommy doesn’t have to be like Dream, if anything Tommy’s like him because they both aren’t like anybody else, and it sucks, but they have each other. Finally Tommy accepts Tubbo’s help as they fuse for the first time.
Eret and Niki fused once while hanging out and dancing one day, which led Wilbur to discover how to trigger the fusion in a more controlled manner - through dancing. 
The war happens with the revolution holding better against Dream and his posse for the short fact that they had fusion on their side - they weren’t totally confident in the ability yet, which lead to some close calls to unfusing at the wrong time, but a few prominent fusions came out of it. In the end, they won and Wilbur continued to write his findings in the journal.
The election came about, and with it the exile of Wilbur and Tommy - this time the two were on the receiving end of fighting with fusions.
Wilbur even suggested on fusing together for survival - together they were more combat skilled, and better focused. After all, there was lesser chance of hurting one target than there was two. So, for a while they stayed together, at least, until Technoblade came to help.
Techno was very awkward at the whole fusion thing - it seemed stupid, and the poor pig hybrid didn’t exactly dance very well, though he was often too embarrassed to admit it. Techno didn’t understand how his two brothers could fuse so easily while he just... couldn’t. (I’m imagining Wilbur coaching him in Pogtopia while Tommy has to wear paint cans in order to each his height)
While out together, the sight of Tubbo causes Wilbur and Tommy to become so distressed they unfuse as Tubbo tells them he wants to help, and becomes their spy.
Back in Manburg, a certain goat hybrid finds Wilbur’s fusion journal and does some light reading. Schlatt thinks that he needs fusion soldiers to fight for him - from what he’s reading, these fusions are practically unstoppable. If he were to have that kind of power at his disposal, no one could stop him.
Being the ‘selfless’ leader he is, he uses himself as a test subject as he fuses with his militia - Punz, Ponk...
Quackity at first makes fun of his attempts as always within five minutes the fusion quickly falls apart. This only pisses of Schlatt more, until he comes up with an idea. 
He confronts Fundy and tells him that if he was loyal to Manburg, and their desires aligned, they’d be able to fuse no problem. Fundy agrees and they become the first completed fusion in Manburg - Fundy only does it because he wants to keep suspicion low and his cover a secret, and it somehow works. Schlatt doesn’t question Fundy much after that.
As the festival gets planned Schlatt continues his tactic of sniffing out traitors through fusion, which does not bode well for Tubbo, who keeps narrowly escaping having to fuse (Looking at the ‘I’m pregnant’ excuse-).
Back in Pogtopia, tensions rise as Wilbur and Tommy become more and more distant as Wilbur plans to blow up Manburg during the festival. 
Festival happens, not much really changes except Schlatt tries to get Niki to fuse with him to prove she wasn’t a traitor and not get killed like Tubbo - Wilbur overhears and intervenes, running away with Niki back to Pogtopia, fusing with her to help both of them escape.
When Quackity tries to leave, Schlatt forces him to fuse to stop the traitor from escaping, and for the first time, the two get trapped in a mixed up mess of a fusion - nothing is combined of the two, it’s all a mish mashed up mess - thankfully they aren’t fused for long and Quackity escapes, but both have the feeling of agony, sorrow and pain of the forced fusion in their minds. 
They take back L’manburg with some awesome fusion v fusion fights.
In a last attempt to keep from dying, Schlatt forces Quackity to fuse with him again in exchange that he release Tubbo, who was on his last cannon life (Schlatt held up a knife to his throat.) Once again, Quackity is trapped down in the painful and dark abyss as their fusion makes mass destruction. Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno all fuse to take  the unstable fusion down.
They succeed in doing so, fatally wounding Schlatt enough to corner him, the stress, drugs, and alcohol combing into a panic attack and he dies. 
From there, things proceed as normal - Techno releases the Withers, Wilbur pushes the button. 
New L’manburg is thriving with Tubbo as the new president... everyone can finally be who they want to be - wounds of course are still healing.
Quackity talks with Tubbo about his bad experience with Schlatt, and Tubbo is there to listen and always tells him that he doesn’t have to fuse if he doesn’t want to... of course fusion can be helpful (Some fusions have been helping repair the TNT and Wither damage) but, Tubbo insists, you don’t have to fuse to be able to help.
Ranboo gets a crash course in fusion basics by Phil and Ghostbur. (It’s like gem classroom, it’s all so cute guys-)
Phil also helps out Fundy who’s still iffy about Wilbur and all that he did for him... namely, fusing with Schlatt to avoid suspicion. It’s all wholesome and sweet, even with Ghostbur and his failed attempts to help in the background.
Things play out as normal in terms of plot - Techno retires, Tommy gets exiled...
Dream, at first, is very committed to blowing up Tommy’s stuff - one day, he says he won’t do it only if Tommy fuses with him, because he’s curious in how it works. 
This turns straight up unhealthy during the Beach Party when Tommy remembers all the times he used to have and how he feels so lonely, and Dream tells him that he’s always gonna be there for him even if they don’t, which results in Tommy and Dream fusing for a while whenever he comes to visit so Tommy won’t feel as lonely or as depressed. Tommy becomes dependent on Dream and the fusing and clings to it to an unhealthy amount, though Tommy of course wouldn’t admit that.
Eventually, Dream blows up Logstedshire and leads to Tommy running away in a brief moment of clarity. 
Phil gets under house arrest as the Butcher Gang try to take Techno down to kill him, but Phil, the ever to clever, gets there before they do and fuses with Techno to help take them down. They unfuse when Quackity threatens Techno’s horse, revealing that Phil snuck out. Techno covers for him and tells them that he broke Phil out, that it’s his fault and Phil had nothing to do with it. They believe him and Phil is in the clear.
The attempt fails, Techno finds Tommy and the two continue to practice fighting while fused - Tommy’s idea from his experience fighting with Wilbur - and they’re pretty strong. Ranboo and Ghostbur hang around and ooo and ahh over their moves.
Tubbo visits Tommy and as in cannon believes he’s dead but for a different reason - he finds evidence of when Tommy and Dream were playing around while fused and thinks that they’re permently fused - Dream forged a letter claiming that exact thing. Tubbo of course blames himself for losing his best friend.
Back in New L’manburg, the Butcher Gang gets fusion training too (except for Quackity) and Ranboo finally fuses for the first time with Fundy, the fusion turning into what a 12 year old would be like on redbull.
While on house arrest, Phil tries fusing with Ghostbur and to his surprise... it works - not for very long, but it works. They come to the conculsion that since Ghostbur is a ghost, that maybe it wasn’t two people fusing but instead a soul and a person, leading to the imbalance.
While Techno and Tommy are fused, they hold Connor captive and ask for ransom... leading Tubbo to be extremely confused when someone he doesn’t know is asking ransom from him who appearently knows him-?!
Only after they unfuse... Tubbo realizes that Tommy’s still... here. He’s still here and not in a fusion with Dream. Things go as in cannon.
Finally, after Dream figures out where Tommy is and tells Techno, any chance he gets with Tommy alone he tries to tell him that they could fix everything if they just fused again, and Tommy keeps finding himself refusing.
Anyway, what do ya’ll think? Should I do a follow up post for the fusions?
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