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almondmilks-posts · 4 years ago

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Schlatt- executed pt2

*I am so proud of part 1

pls go show some love

Maybe a SERIES?? Maybe pt3??? Maybe some more angst?? Maybe some cute fluff with glatt?? Maybe idk if you would like to see more uwu

This took so long omg... I'm sorry

Context: in part 1 you became ghost!y/n much like Ghostbur you forgot most of your memories including your death...

Life after death was weird. You had very vague memories of each member of the sever but other than that you completely forgot about your past life including how you died. You never expected that you would become a sentiant ghost on the server after death you also never expected Wilbur to become one either so here we are. You took a great liking to Ghostbur as he did to you, you both hanging out became a regular occurrence on the SMP you mainly liked hanging around quackity he had these homely vibes to him that made you want to be around him but you were not quite sure why although he had been seeing you less and less and when you did meet he seemed on edge always looking behind him, shaking his head off to the distance when you turn around, nothing.

You didn't know why Ghostbusr was obsessed with the colour blue, always handing out lapis lazuli to saddened goes by with a "here have some blue" but he always did. You guys can't mine down in the caves something about bedrock pressure? but he always had stacks of blue on him at all times.

You- hey bur where do you get the blue from?

Ghostbur- oh uhhh umm I just have it sometimes I get it from Phill

You- oh cool. I want something I'm not sure I've decided on what...

Ghostbur- hmmmmm y/n how about

You- I know red mushrooms because they look so cool like lil toadstools.

Ghostbur- yes that's such a good idea

You- I need to ask Phil to see if he has any spare mushrooms adiós bur I'll see you later.

You began to float your way over the the snowy tundra that Phil resides in. You passed many different landmarks on your way only knowing by the names you and ghostbur had given them. Home home also known as the community House although in ruins after it was exploded by puffy. You did try to stop her however your attempts were unsuccessful.

You- omg I'm so sorry I wasn't looking where I was going here look I have some seeds take this as a sorry

You were in your thoughts so much that you had phased into a body. As a ghost you are able to phase through people However you phased into the body meaning whoever you walked into was not alive. You reached your arms into your pockets to see what you have as a sorry before the mushrooms which you still haven't been managed to find any. Thecno needing them for potions ofc knowing the butcher army was coming for him he planicked stealing so many resources including some of blue from Wilbur accidentally. You found three seeds in your pockets your had picked up from when you were hanging around Callahan (he's my fav on the SMP omg) and punz this one time just giving while punz went on a nether mission for ghast tears. You extended your arm out to the person, lifting your head up to look the person in the eyes.

Glatt- y/n?

He had Horns. Deep black horns protruding out the side of his head. His skin a pale grey ash colour, contrasting his flaming red eyeballs which looked down upon you due to the height difference. His suit a very dark grey almost black but not quite, You looked at him than back at the seeds. He seemed like he didn't take any interest in taking the seeds from you as a sorry, you furrowed your eye brows at his sort of question? You really didn't remember your past life, thecno told you that most ghosts don't when they die the ones that do are 'poor damned souls of wrong doers' comforting you that you did some good when you were living.

You- uhh sorry I don't know a y/n?? Im ghosty/n! Well it would make sense that I'm y/n well was y/n hahahaha I don't remember much from my past life unfortunately

Glatt- you don't- you don't remember how you died do you?

You- uhhh no? Should I? I ask quackity you know quackity right? Small guy, blue beanie anyway he wouldn't tell me how I died he said it was a too long to explain anyway I gotta go bye uhhhh...

Glatt- oh it's glatt

You- well nice to meet you glatt if you see Phill tell him I need some red mushrooms

And with that you floated off on your mission to find some red mushrooms. Glatt stood there face slashed red. He felt embarrassed? Sick to his stomach? He wasn't quite sure what he felt, quackity had told him of your ghost life when he was pestering quackity this one time however he was scared. He was once a ruthless tryrant president drinking all day and all night because he couldn't handle the power and disappointment of his peers knowing he was struggling being president so he turned to alcohol. He was so plastered when he stabbed you he didn't even know what he did until quackity and Niki Walked out on him with some fruitful words.

Schlatt thought back to when quackity had confronted him, carrying your enchanted diamond boots Phil brought on your wedding day and never took them off since. Quackity looked so hopeless his eyes filled with tears, trembling hands as he screamed at schlatt so hard his vocal cords never recovered even after all this time and everything he's been through. Despite this he carried on trying to ruin quackity's life. Even after death the fucker never lost his need for power and bullying quackity is all he knew how. The issue was he could not find the small mexican, he floated all through what manburg was, he floated past the church, the target, the community house but no sign of quackity. He was searching through the community house for anything he could steal just because 'he was glatt he could do what he wants'; as a ghost he really didn't change. A fit of giggles rung through his ears, he hadn't heard that noise in years. Glatt knew that it was you of course you were married for several years before the incident. He caught himself smiling as he once did to see your face (which could easily fit between his larger hands.) He floated across towards where the noise would come from. To see you, a blue sheep with a wonkey eye and Wilbur? He felt anxious, his ghost heart started beating faster, if he wasn't dead he would be having another heart attack right now that would actually kill him. He wasn't sure of it was because you look so happy contracting the last time him saw your glum face as the XP dropped or knowing Wilbur might still be bitter about the election or what happened as a result of it.

You toyed with the blue sheep known as friend. Friend was the first thing ghostbur saw when he woke up as a ghost so there was a major bond between the two,.you would argue it was a closer bond than what tied you with Wilbur but nothing could compare to that. You both had years and years of history some even before Tommy was born but you both just didn't know that. (maybe pt3 y/n becomes human??) Friend was very entertaining for a blue sheep fried could make you and ghostbur cry with laughter but just standing there. ( Ok this is my HC so it's not cannon but I think it should be) The blue sheep had a lazy eye, so for long enough if the sheep did nothing the eyes would travel opposite directions as per usual you and ghostbur were dying over this. You bent down to pick at a blade if grass to feed to friend when a glum feeling came over you. Were you being watched? You wanted to cry, so you turned your head to Look at the assailant to see glatt standing there just looking at you or through you it was unclear.

You-oh hey uhhh glatt? Ah yes I'm right would you like to come hang out with friend, ghostbur and I would love it if you joined us and I'm sure friend doesn't mind you do you? No you don't because you are a cute sheep boopboop

Glatt- I'm not so sure

You- oh come on don't be such a killer it would be fun friend is very well friendly haha come on.

You grasped his cold wrist with your much warmer hands. The size difference between the two contrasted immensely. You blushed, a warm feeling coming over you almost as if you had known him for years. Which y/n did but you didn't know that. Schlatt frowned at you calling him a killer, did you know? Did Wilbur tell you? A lot happened to manburg after you had died, stuff you missed that you could and would have stopped. You dragged schlatt closer to where friend was excited Wilbur could meet your 'new' friend glatt.

You- hahah bur meet glatt

Ghostbur- oh uh hey glatt nice to meet you, your a friend of n/n's huh?

Glatt- uhh yea something like that

Ghostbur- oh crap! I have to meet with Callahan (he's my fave member) I'm helping him build a forest, well you guys have fun with friend. And glatt? Its nice to see you again.

And with that he floated away from the pair riend looked at schlatt than back at you, than back at schlatt. Its pink tounge slipping out of its mouth. Glatt looked down at you sitting cross legged on the grass petting friend. He thought you looked beautiful with the sun on your ghostlike form, he felt shame wash over him he really ruined you.

You- sit next to me glatt, the sun isn't that bright down here

Glatt- no I don't want to get my suit dirty!

You sighed, why was he so cold? Was it that he didn't like you, was it the fact that he didn't like friend no that's not true everyone loves friend. You frowned over thinking lots of things glatt noticed your frown after he yelled at you; he felt worse that he yelled. Many nights after your death did he think about you and his actions. He numbed the feeling penultimately resulting in further alcoholism and finally his death. He kept your diamond boots in his desk draw so they could be next to him at all times he even picked up some of your XP but that stuff didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered to him. Expect you. He never was good at expressing his feelings to you, and you never pushed him to do that.

Glatt- do you seriously not remember your past life?

You- hmmmm not much

Glatt- what do you know tell me?

You- well, I don't really remember memories it's more feelings and smells towards something? Like Niki I feel very calm and peaceful around her she smells like bread, Wilbur it's like he feels like a brother to me and he smells like gunpowder almost, ummmm who else? Oh Tecno smells like potatoes I'll tell you about that some other time

Glatt- what about me? What do I smell like ( Father Fragrance??)

You- ummmmm it's a weird metallic smell? At first I was like iron smell but I'm not so sure. I was super anxious when I first saw you almost hmmm anger? Fear? But I also wanted to give you a hug it's weird what about me... Your a ghost I'm sure it's the same for you it is for wilbur... What do I smell like glatt?

Glatt- uhh well, it's metallic aswell

You-oh heyy look it's ranboo, Ran heyy look down here? Ranboo? Oh no he's enderwalking again ok well this conversation isn't over glatt

You followed the half enderman who appears to be on his enderwalking state. You don't say much to him as you know he won't hear or respond to you. You follow him past twitch prime, past the portal near to the prison? Confused you stood behind him a little, why was he going to the prison? To see Sam you hope...

But no. He didn't.

#jschlatt #dream #dream smp #mcyt x reader #mcytumblr #mcyt fandom #mcyt x y/n #glatt #glatt x reader #dsmp glatt #glatt my beloved #ghostbur

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sytco · 4 years ago

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common blessings [joochan]

pairing: childhood friend!hong joochan x reader

word count: 3.5k (!)

requested: "toothrotting fluff ft. joochan"

dedicated to @sahiflowers.

a/n: im SO SO sorry this took so long and i hope u like it even a little and that it makes u smile thank u for being so patient ily!! ily!!! reminder im always here for u!!

In which you find that time is meaningless when Joochan is not by your side.

wonderboy.

Sometimes, you speculate whether Joochan has some kind of genius for finding you as soon as the school bell rings, signalling the end of another day.

Today, he surprises you behind the auditorium where you lean against a maple tree, hugging your bag to your chest, because you’ve skipped your last period (Introduction to Psychology) in favor of lying on the grass so you can watch the clouds in peace. And Joochan smiles a fond, fond smile because you have that look on your face again that you only get when you’re lost in thought.

“Missed me?”

You tense from shock before relaxing at the sight of your boyfriend who widens his arms so you can walk right into them.

“How’d you find me?” Your voice is muffled in the fabric of his vest and Joochan reaches up so he can play with the back of your collar.

“Just had a little hunch you might be here.” And this is the answer he always gives, accompanied with the same smug smile each time.

You pout even if Joochan can’t see it. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

“Well now,” he says in an affected voice that sounds like the narrator from that National Geographic documentary on penguins the two of you watched last week, “I can’t afford to have you getting your hands on all my secrets, can I? I’ve got to keep some things to myself so that in ten year's time, you’ll still think I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe.”

It’s ridiculous, you think, how it’s nearly winter but the way you can feel the laughter that starts in his chest and electrifies you to your fingertips is more than capable of keeping you warm and making you feel like you’re really alive.

“Doesn’t matter if I find out all your secrets or not,” you mumble, “you’ll always be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe to me.”

From the courtyard around the corner, you can hear Jaehyun shouting a loud “Oi Joochan!”.

Joochan ignores him and instead casually pecks your cheek with a kiss that feels like a blessing. “Always?”

You tilt your head as though unsure. "Well… for at least fifty years, probably.”

“Fifty?!” Joochan echoes in mock outrage, and you playfully poke his side to which he flinches slightly.

“I was lying. I meant for all of time ever.”

And despite him doing his best to hide it, your boyfriend melts instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck where he’s probably smiling his brilliant smile that feels like the sun against your skin.

Jaehyun’s voice interrupts the peace and quiet once again with a noticeably louder and more panicked tone.

“Hong Joochan! We’re going to be late for soccer practice!”

Joochan groans exaggeratedly and you can’t help but giggle at his theatrics. “Wish I didn’t have to go to stupid practice,” he grumbles.

“You know, I’ll wait for you in the library until you’re done,” you offer and Joochan perks up - if only slightly because your arms still feel like heaven after years of loving you, and two hours of kicking a ball around (while Donghyun and Jibeom brainstorm inventive ways to trip each other up, much to Coach Lee’s chagrin) just can’t compete. He tells you as much in the way his arms tighten around you.

“You’re the best,” Joochan declares suddenly, “I might be the most amazing and magical boy in the universe, but you’re the best.”

You snort. “Go to practice already before Jaehyun starts going spare, wonderboy.”

Joochan kisses your forehead one last time before he detaches himself from you with a dejected sigh and picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder despite your protests. “Walk with me to the oval?”

You slip your hand into his hand only to find it a perfect fit and wonder briefly if there is anywhere in this world you would not walk to with Hong Joochan, the boy who has a smile like sunlight and a personality like a billion shooting stars.

“Of course.”

fm.

There is the occasional moment in which you wish that your boyfriend wasn’t so exceedingly talented in nearly every field he tries his hand at, because the various extracurriculars that Joochan (being the naturally energetic and enthusiastic person he is) involves himself with have an awful way of making tremendous demands on his time towards the end of the semester.

Right now is one of those moments when Joochan trudges into your room and dives face first onto your bed without even bothering to shake his coat off. “So what was it today?” you ask in a voice that betrays your concern and Joochan can’t help but smile at it.

“Theatre rehearsal,” he yawns, “then string quartet practice. Also an hour of soccer drills with some of the boys. Even though it’s a Saturday.”

You get up from your chair at the desk so you can sit on the bed where Joochan immediately moves his head onto your lap, lifting your hand and resting it on his hair. You absentmindedly start stroking it, staring out the window at a soft grey sky.

“Did you eat?”

Joochan shakes his head. “No time. My dumb E string broke again so I barely managed to have half an apple before we went straight into a new Mozart piece today. Think we might perform it at the next concert. You’d come, right?” And he asks that in a self-assured tone, because he already knows what your answer is going to be.

You give it to him anyway because there’s no point in hiding your blatant admiration for all that he does. “No matter what.”

“And just to see me, right?”

You fake a pause that has Joochan peering up at you suspiciously.

“You do know I have friends who aren’t you that are participating in the concert, right? Like Jangjun and Sungyoon?”

Joochan scowls. “But none of those hooligans are your boyfriend, who - in case you forgot but I do know you’d never - is me.”

“That’s quite true,” you concede before leaning down to kiss his cheek with a smile that makes Joochan’s stomach fill with butterflies which are probably colored pink and green and blue. It never gets old, he thinks: your talent for turning his world upside down in a look or a word or an action. And you don’t even know you’re doing it most of the time.

“Mean,” he accuses but in a half-hearted manner and your smile only widens because you know that Joochan is supremely happy despite his exhaustion, if the way his brow has smoothed completely and he has started drawing little stars on your knee is anything to go by.

There’s a gentle lull in the conversation while you continue to run your fingers through Joochan’s hair, and especially his fringe. It’s almost as though time has passed you by, leaving you together in your own little reality where things like hazy futures and big concerts and broken violin strings do not dare draw near.

“Wanna order something later on for dinner?” you ask quietly.

“Maybe,” he grins through closed eyes, “but nap first.”

Your radio continues to run, and you drift in and out of listening to the DJ duo while watching the rain finally fall outside.

“It’s been pretty cold recently, hasn’t it?” one of the DJs opens the conversation after a small stream of ads.

“Sure has, pal. And speaking of the cold, apparently our first snow of the season is scheduled for next week Friday!”

“So do you have any plans lined up with a special someone?”

“Just had to remind me of how single I am, didn’t you”- rambunctious peals of laughter crackle from the speakers - “but maybe some of our lovely listeners will send in their plans for next Friday.”

“I sure did - and wow, they’re already pouring in! Do you wanna read one out?”

“Let’s see… Listener ha_miii_ran says: ‘I’m planning on confessing to my crush of two years. I’m pretty nervous about this so I’m hoping the two of you will wish me luck!’ All the best of luck to you, Ha Miran-nim, from the both of us. I don’t know how you’re planning on it, but hopefully the first snow will act as a good luck charm for you!”

“Yeah, good luck Ha Miran-nim!” the other DJ chimes in. “Be sure to update us on how it goes!”

“Well, we’ll be back with some more stories after this excerpt from a famous piano concerto - maybe some of our more classically-inclined audience will recognise its globally renowned composer.”

A beautiful melody begins to play and you’re on the cusp of losing yourself in the music when you are most abruptly interrupted by a sleepy, but decisive, “Gershwin.”

You blink down at Joochan. “What?”

“It’s Gershwin. The composer. Don't you think your boyfriend's clever for knowing that?"

“I thought my boyfriend was asleep, actually,” and you narrow your eyes.

“I was,” Joochan protests, “I only woke up when they were talking about the snow or something. And then they talked about that person who’s confessing to their crush of two years - got me thinking about how I can relate because I vividly remember having a crush on you for at least three before I could muster up the courage to confess. Which ended up working out for the best, you know,” he adds in a thoughtful tone, “but sometimes I’d get so nervous just thinking about it that I couldn’t sleep at all. Anyways, I’m really hungry now, so can we order something soon please?”

Maybe it’s the way he so nonchalantly wears his heart for you on his sleeve, or maybe it’s the way he looks at you as though you have strung the Milky Way itself together and made a gift of it to him. Maybe it’s the way you simply realize that you might not be able to live with yourself if you were to lose your boyfriend, ever. But for whatever reason it is, a thousand smiles bloom in your heart and you lean down to give Joochan a kiss that hopefully tastes like everything you cannot possibly put into words.

“Anything you want,” you whisper, and Joochan draws a heart on your knee in response.

enchanted.

You’re outside the auditorium again but in front of it, this time, and not behind. The post-concert hubbub has died down, mostly owing to the fact that much of the audience has left already whether it’s to a late congratulatory supper or down to the boardwalk where fireworks are scheduled to go off at midnight. The bouquet of lily of the valleys in your hand trembles slightly as you use your other hand to fumble around for your ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“You’re waiting outside, right?” Joochan asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“See, Donghyun, I told you I was right about - wait. Wait! Don't move!”

And then you have less than two seconds to process exactly what is happening before your boyfriend catches you up in a running embrace that sends the world spinning in a flurry of snow and stars and kisses that Joochan plants all over your cheeks. He remains blissfully unaware that somewhere in the vicinity, Donghyun has started making gagging sounds at your very public display of affection, punctuated by Jaehyun’s giggling. (You pay them no mind.)

“Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks, fond expectation twinkling in his eyes.

You nod too much. “You were incredible,” you tell him honestly, and Joochan beams.

“I was, wasn’t I?” he says in a satisfied voice as he pulls you closer. “Guess all those hours of practice paid off.”

“It’s almost like that’s the whole point of practicing,” you tease.

“It’s lucky you’re cute and I’m hopelessly in love with you,” Joochan crinkles his nose in contrived distaste for your little jab before hugging you again so he can hear you whisper just how proud you are of him, right into his ear.

And the two of you stay like that for a little before you remember the gift you brought with you.

“For me?” And the look in his eyes reminds you of how he looked at you when you first told him that you loved him too - or maybe of every time you’ve told him that you love him too.

“Who else?”

He snaps up the bouquet, pressing it against his nose and inhaling deeply with a smile. "This is a nice surprise."

"They mean 'return to happiness'," you say, gently touching a little white bloom that looks like a star against the backdrop of Joochan's black school blazer. "Thought it was cute. And the florist was sold out of roses anyway."

Joochan laughs with the warmth of a thousand sunbeams and puts your hand in his so he can start gently tugging you away.

“But your violin”- you begin protesting.

“But nothing,” he shushes you as the school gets smaller and smaller behind you in the distance. “I don’t even want to see that thing for a week. Hey, and guess what - I found a secret place for just you and me so we can watch the fireworks without being pressed up against everyone else like sardines in a tin can.”

“You and I are going to watch the fireworks?” you echo, surprise colouring your voice.

Joochan’s exhale turns into a giggle. “Who else?” And you dig an elbow into his side, hiding a smile at his antics.

The two of you stroll down quiet streets and you lean into your boyfriend’s comforting warmth. Most shops are closed with the exception of some fast food chains and convenience stores, but you notice almost none of them now as Joochan picks up the pace, his excitement bleeding into the quiet song he sings that floats up in the air and is lost somewhere in the stars above.

“Here we are,” says Joochan proudly and he helps you up into the little gazebo at the top of the hill you hadn’t realized you were climbing. “Take this,” he adds as he tosses you a torch that brightly illuminates the space you’re in as soon as you switch it on. You turn to the rustling sounds on your left, finally seeing the wooden bench that Joochan is busy spreading a rug over.

“You planned this beforehand?” And there’s a note of wonder in your voice - the same kind that only Joochan ever seems to be able to evoke. “I thought we were going straight home.”

He gestures for you to sit next to him with a charming smile and you do so immediately. “Told you I can’t give up all the secrecy. Not yet.” Or, he thinks privately to himself, not when you look at him like that.

The golden light from the torch casts long shadows over the grass and gives Joochan’s face a nearly ethereal glow that reminds you of summer sunsets despite the cold. You slip into a soft and easy silence - one that comes from memories built upon memories, resulting in a code made up of gazes and touch that only the two of you will ever understand. And so when he squeezes your hand gently, you instantly open your arms for him to sink right into.

There’s only a few minutes left until midnight when you finally speak.

“Joochan,” you murmur.

“Mm?”

“You ever think about where we’ll be this time next year?”

Joochan shifts his posture slightly. “Often, actually. Especially when I go to sleep at night and think about tomorrow - then I’ll wonder if it’ll even remotely go the way I want it to.”

“And how do you usually want it to go?” you ask.

“Someone has a lot of questions today,” Joochan remarks with a droll look on his face that makes you laugh briefly before his expression sobers. “But usually I want it to go safely. You know? Everything in its proper place and things like that. And more importantly, I want to know all the time that I’ll be able to see you.”

You’re silent for a moment, looking out over the view of the city. If you squint, you can just make out the boardwalk by the beach and the crowds of people who have gathered there, young and old alike. “I’m scared sometimes.”

Joochan frowns. “Scared of what? I’ll fight it off for you,” and he waves a threatening fist at nothing in particular.

“The future, I guess. It sounds silly but… sometimes I don’t know if we’ll always be okay. Like this, the way things are right now. Whether it’s tomorrow or next year or even after that.” Your voice fades in volume until it’s nearly lost against the threads of your scarf, and Joochan’s heart breaks a little when he hears it: the genuine uncertainty and timid fear that seeps past the smile you give him in an effort to hide it.

“Why do you think we might not be okay?”

You look down at your feet, almost embarrassed by your own honesty. “Well, people… change, Joo. They move places, and have goals to achieve and dreams to chase down. And we’re not immune to that either.”

It’s Joochan’s turn to be silent for a bit as he mulls over your words before he straightens in your hold, turning his face towards you so he can affectionately bump his nose against yours. “You’re right,” he says in a voice that mirrors your sadness, “and it would be a lie to say I don’t think about the same things you do. But”- and he leans in to give you a quick kiss that’s shaped like a smile - “it’d also be a lie to say that every dream doesn’t feature you in it. Because every dream of mine that I’ve ever had places you centre stage.”

He kisses you again, a little longer - a little more wistfully.

“You see, the real problem here is that you have me perpetually thinking that I can’t do any of this without you,” he says simply. “Whether it’s late night phone calls or early morning messages; or maybe we’ll find ourselves having to book flights for each other, holding bags full of gifts that remind us of us. And maybe it’ll be hard and maybe I’ll wake up some days, knowing I won’t be able to see you. But that doesn’t mean we won’t be okay.”

You swallow and Joochan watches you carefully, the urgency in his eyes prompting him to lift your chin so you can see it too.

“Even if we change,” he continues in a whisper, hoping you will understand the heart in his words. “And we should. And we will, and we’ll still be okay. You believe me, don’t you? Seeing as I’m the most amazing and magical boy in the universe?”

Somewhere, midnight comes and goes and the fireworks start, dousing you and Joochan in bursts of coloured light.

“Of course I do,” you smile with eyes that glitter with tears of relief and he pulls you into a tight hug, so tight you can feel every movement of his rib cage as he breathes in and out.

For once, you do not feel that fear deep down that threatens to taint your time with the only boy you think you cannot live without. And so you unreservedly hold him in return, fingers running through his hair as he tells you that he loves you, over and over again.

up, up and away.

There had been a time during your childhood when your one greatest wish had been to go see the stars.

So your friend Joochan, in all his clumsy sincerity, had done his best to make you a rocket out of a box he’d found at home. He’d then brought it to your house after he’d finished it, blue marker staining his fingertips and glitter shaped like stars lost in his thick fringe.

The two of you had sat in it together and looked up at the moon, holding hands from childish innocence and recounting thrilling tales of adventures you’d never had. And before having to go home to bed that day, he’d made you a promise that present-day Joochan complains about not being able to fulfill.

“I know I said I’d take you to the stars,” Joochan sighs in displeasure from where he lies on your bed, right next to you, “but while your boyfriend is exceptionally talented, you do know I’m no astronaut, right?”

You hold his hand in response and look into his eyes that sparkle with mirth and deeper in, shine with a love that always gives you peace.

It may be that Joochan will never be able to keep his promise of taking you to space in a real, functioning rocket. But, as you drop a kiss on his mouth that soon widens into a brilliant smile, you can’t find it in yourself to really care.

After all, it’s hard to miss the stars when for you, they all start with Joochan and end with him.

if u liked this please consider dropping a like and reblogging with ur thoughts because feedback is!! always appreciated thank you!!!

#SCREAMS IT'S FINALLY DONE WITH I'M FINALLY FINISHED #golden child #golden child scenarios #golden child imagines #hong joochan #golden child hong joochan #golden child joochan #joochan #ju writes #gncd #golcha #im now off to go cry. or nap. both

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5-falsehoods-phonated · 4 years ago

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(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written)

Requests for this card are closed, thank you to anyone who sent in requests! If you don’t want to see these you can block the tag #false bthb. As always shoot me an ask if you wanna be tagged in future stories, whether it be for bad things happen bingo or any of the other series, one shots or in general!

I’ve been picking at this particular request since early December as the person who requested it had a lot of details they wanted put in making the writing process a bit more challenging. As a disclaimer, note that the chapter is split between present time and the past; with Logan recalling things in his past in an attempt to make the details requested for the story flow better. I received this request from AO3.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck

Experimental Socialization

Summary: Logan was raised by the government to be nothing more than an experiment and a weapon, utilizing his unique abilities as a mutant. When he finally escapes things are much different than he imagined they’d be but thankfully finds others like him willing to help guide him right where he needs to be.(Happy Ending)

Warnings: allusions to abuse, physical punishment and human experimentation, tw for weapons and fire, panic attack. If there are more please let me know

Prompt; Not Used To Freedom (requested by AngstyEmoGal on AO3)

Ships: Intrulogical, Logan x Remus

WC: 3432

“You just gotta breathe, Logan. In four, hold seven, out eight remember? You’re doing great, just keep going.”

Logan felt himself slowly coming back to reality as his breathing evening out, the raw panic that had gripped his chest easing slightly as Virgili continued coaxing him through the exercise. He felt the other slowly rub up and down his arm in a slow, steady beat that helped ground him further in reality and he smiled up at his friend gratefully and nodded to let xem know he was okay. Gripping his knees as Virgil’s voice trailed off he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let out one last calming breath.

“Thank you, Virgil. I-” He struggled to find words, gesturing flippantly in the air making Virgil grin.

“It’s okay. Take your time, L.”

Logan puffed his cheeks out in frustration, thoughts swirling too quickly for him to comprehend anything but the apprehensive fear he held for the plans Remus had made for them later that evening. “I am- not used to being outside. Given my history and the threat I pose as a potential compromise to our place of hiding I fail to understand Remus’ reasoning for going out when we could just as easily celebrate our relationship here.”

“Hm.” Virgil leaned back on xyr hands and looked up at the low ceiling of their underground paradise. “Can’t really see the stars from here, no matter how many stickers Princey finds and puts up it can't really be compared to the real thing.”

Logan had made the mistake of going on a tirade of space facts a few months into his stay in the hideout, Remus patiently listening to the extensive infodump of constellation facts and space physics and planetary rotation. Having a limited amount of books to entertain oneself with for extended periods of time meant memorizing entire books on one subject, which Logan had used all too happily as a figurative escape from his situation in the past until he had actually managed to escape when he was 16. Hearing Logan speak so passionately about the subject had apparently made his mind up that he was taking Logan outside for their first “official” date to view the stars, which had then landed Logan in his current state of panic as he realized that date was today and he was decidedly not ready for what might lay in store outside of safety of the hideout.

“I can stay close by if you want. I won’t spy or anything and Remus won’t have to know.” Logan looked over as his thoughts were interrupted by the offer, Virgil turning invisible and reappearing a couple seconds later to emphasize xyr point. Smiling Logan shook his head, knowing the other derived as much joy from going outside as Logan felt about going himself.

“Thank you for the offer though, you’re very kind.” Letting his thoughts drift again he idly wondered when Virgil had discovered xe could disappear and reappear at will and if xyr parents had tried to hide it before the government had found out. His own parents-

-----

“Logan?” A very small Logan turned at his mother’s voice, losing his concentration which made the hidden jar of Crofters fall from its suspended place in the air and smash to the floor. His parents hadn’t known he possessed any sort of powers, and even as small as he was he still understood the position he’d put them in if they ever found out. Fearfully his hands dropped to his sides as his mother covered her mouth in shock, tears rolling down her cheeks as she took a step back.

Men in suits and long coats were there just a few hours later, speaking in hushed voices while both of his parents cried and he was ushered out the door and into an unmarked car, quiet as he understood yelling and crying would do him no good now. What’s done was done, all he could do was be compliant and hope to be treated gently.

-----

The room suddenly brightening with a flickering light brought him back out of his thoughts, Roman entering with his signature bright flame held proudly in his hand. The image of him in his rather scrapped together Princely outfit posing subconsciously in the doorway was almost enough to make Logan roll his eyes but he didn’t want Virgil to think it was because of xem so he managed to restrain himself.

“My dearest brother has been pacing in the same spot for two hours now and I haven't been able to calm him down soooo I thought to check on our resident nerd.” Roman declared with his usual flare. Logan actually did roll his eyes this time but Virgil did as well so he figured it was fine.

“The ‘resident nerd’ is doing fine, Roman. Though it's concerning to hear Remus is nervous as well considering he’s the one who suggested the date.”

Roman waved his hand at Logan dismissively. “He’s just a sap- moreso than me surprisingly. He doesn’t want to do anything to put you in danger but he wants to do something nice, so he’s worried that’s all. Remus is an idiot but I trust him with my life; believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about except his terrible sense of humor.”

Logan merely hummed in response, staring at the way the flame moved around as Roman gestured with his words.

-----

He panted as he rolled out of the way of another flamethrower, singeing the tips of his hair in the process but he couldn’t afford to slow down enough to worry about that. Years of training with different fighting styles had earned him incredibly fast reflexes but a good portion of his accuracy in knowing where to step and when was owed to him working even harder to focus his powers. Thoughts from others constantly surrounded him on a regular basis, getting more and more prevalent the older he grew. Learning to block out the constant string of stimuli was a useful skill to keep him sane but learning to hone in on specific thoughts to predict actions was what had kept him alive.

He ducked below another bullet and brought up his leg in the same motion, kicking a throwing knife to the side and sending it to clatter harmlessly between one of his assailants feet. A twirl to the side and a tilt of the head let another bought of flame boil the air beside him while another knife just barely brushed his ear. The constant bang of bullets and roar of flames and whistling of knives was overwhelming and made the air so thick he could barely draw a breath and it was becoming a struggle to concentrate the way he needed to and-

A high pitched alarm sounded one, twice, three times- a blaring flash accompanying it that left him blinking painfully. His shoulders slumped as the barrage finally ended, another successful training day completed. He watched as everyone began putting their weapons away, laughing and congratulating each other, clapping themselves on the back and discussing whatever they had planned after this. No one even spared the thing they had been firing at seconds before a spare glance, save for the director of the branch, who took long steps forward to stand in front of him only to snap his fingers and motion forward no doubt to see him back to his room until dinner. Absorbing the sounds around him he drank in as much praise as he could that wasn’t his and would never be for him; people rarely congratulated weapons after all.

-----

“Is this where we all decided to hide today?” Logan looked up to see Patton sitting cross legged on one one of the beams in the ceiling, grinning happily down at them even as their fluffy ears twitched nervously and even fluffier tail whipped back and forth in agitation. They must have come back from trying to calm Remus as well, Logan mused; Patton had never done well being in the same room as Remus who tended to voice his thoughts abruptly and without much care to how they might sound to others which always managed to set Patton on edge no matter how hard they tried not to show it.

Patton was a rare mutant in that as opposed to being born with abnormal traits or abilities they had been a science experiment from the start- an effort to create super soldiers rather than stealing them away from families and training them. Even rarer was the fact that the DNA splicing had taken extraordinarily well by pure chance as Patton was born with a mutation that left their DNA incredibly malleable- a mutation that never would have been discovered had cellular manipulation not been the reason for them being in the experimental branch that they were. They had tried cloning Patton at first to see if their power could be duplicated but when that failed to work they began trying to combine them with different animals to see if desirable traits would come forward. By manipulating them on a physical and anatomical level they were able to change some parts of them to be more cat like, intending, Patton had guessed, to turn them into a kind of stealth soldier but they got away before they completed it, leaving them with heightened agility and surgically coaxed cat ears and a tail. They were only a child when the lab had done this but somehow they were never bitter, simply preferring to leave their past alone and embrace whatever future they could make- a trait Logan greatly admired them for even if their unending optimism could be somewhat grating at times.

“Did Janus brush your tail out Pat? It looks fluffier today.” Patton preened at Virgil's compliment, their tail beginning to wave in a more relaxed manner as their mind was distracted from whatever it was Remus had been ranting about.

“He did! He found a cat brush and got it for me so I could finally get the undercoat out!” Jumping down and landing lightly on their feet they posed a little and flashed another wide grin.

“Beautiful as always, Patton.” Roman said genuinely as he lowered his hand into a barrel to light up the paper scraps and wood in it for the night, the dim sunlight that had filtered through the grated having long since died. The home was a modified branch of a sewer system, thankfully the part most removed from the city where it flowed without the stench and was sealed off inconspicuously enough that in the ten years Janus and Remus had been using it no worker had ever found it.

-----

It had been Janus and Remus who had found him, beaten and bloody from an escape attempt he had made just days before his real one. He had made a weak attempt to coax the scientists into a false sense of security, holding back the full scoop of his powers during training for a year in anticipation for his final escape. He had punished severely but had simply thrown him in his regular cell, assuming he wasn’t strong enough to do any more damage than they had seen him do already and trusting that they had beaten him down enough that it would be a while before he tried again- if he ever did. Not six days later the mangled metal of the front of his cell was tossed into a group of guards, walls torn apart in a straight line to the exit and the huge buzzing gates leading to the outside world thrown open wide and stuck there with varying amounts of heavy debris.

The outside world, as it turns out, was a lot bigger and louder and downright terrifying when you weren’t being sent out as a personal assassin or field missions or training sessions- all controlled on some level to keep him from being killed and compromised. Without the begrudged protection from the labs and moreover having to hide from said lab was another story entirely. The times they searched for him and how closely they came to his spots were random and made it incredibly hard for him to pick out their thoughts from anyone else’s in the city and figure out how close they were. On more than one occasion they passed right by him crouched under piles of garbage or laying low under a hedge, his breath held as he tried desperately to keep himself as still and quiet as possible, thoughts of what they would to him once they found him pounding against his head and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep his terrified tears from falling.

That was how Remus had found him. It had been dark and hours had passed since the searchers had left that park he had been hiding in. He had still been hiccuping down his sobs as he rolled out from under the hedge that he hadn’t bothered to scope the area for anyone’s close by thoughts, having shut out as much as he could after they had left to try and block out any other hate fueled thoughts that may send him spiraling again. His heart had leapt in his throat so high his breath caught painfully, immediately shifting to offense as he tensed, ready to fight as long and hard as he could. He couldn’t go back- he wouldn’t. No matter what they did or promised him or punished him with; he’d go down fighting or not at all.

But Remus had only raised his hands in the air in a motion of peace, eyes widening as he locked onto the government issued bracelet that marked him as an experimental mutant. He had grinned impossibly wide then Logan remembered, briefly disappearing from his sight and reappearing a moment later, setting him even more on edge but curious nonetheless.

“I’m like you.” Remus had said quietly. “Basically I run real fast and the government hasn’t figured out how to get me yet.”

Logan had watched as he jiggled his wrists a bit for emphasis, bare save for colored chords that he assumed didn’t associate him with any government branch since they didn’t look official.

“Are you okay?” Remus had asked next and mutely Logan nodded, unsure of how to react to this fellow mutant who had never been caught by any sort of lab, apparently living as free as one could when you were as different as they were. He stepped back as another man appeared behind him, Janus he later learned.

“Liar.” Janus had hissed, making Remus reach around and smack the back of his head.

“It was a polite thing to ask that he tried to dismiss Jan. Let the adults speak for a second.”

Logan had noted the faint pout on Janus’ face though he was still trying very hard to look intimidating. And then all at once his eyes had turned cold as his attention was once again focused on Logan, glaring menacingly from beneath a black bowler hat. “I’m younger than you and yet I’m the one that has to put my foot down. He’s being chased clearly; we are not bringing him back with us.”

Remus has turned, Logan seemingly forgotten for the moment. “That’s not how it works! He needs help and we’re not leaving him to starve or be found in the middle of a park! What would Patton say?”

“Patton is a soft fool who needs to figure out where their morals stand. I myself am choosing not to compromise our place of hiding and three other people that you know those power hungry idiots would love nothing more than to get their hands on!”

Remus rolled his eyes so hard his head had lolled with it, face going pale as he watched something in the sky. It was then that Logan heard the telling sound of a helicopter flying low and getting closer but he had barely tensed before he found himself gripped around the middle and held vertically with the ground flying underneath him. They stopped abruptly and he was set down, blinking in rapid confusion as Remus grinned sheepishly at him.

“Welcome to the hideout?”

Logan’s eyes had widened and his breath had caught yet again, chest tightening as he shook his head vehemently. “You can’t- I need to go back! They’ll do anything to get me back-!”

He was stopped from going forward with a finger to his chest, his blue eyes locking with beautiful brown as Remus held his gaze. “And we will do everything to keep you safe.”

Safe. With that one word Logan was his. He hadn’t known why and he still didn’t quite understand it but he had trusted Remus with everything he had- and he still did. Even as Janus had stalked off grumbling and Virgil and Roman had kept their distance at first Remus had kept him close and showed him how much better his life could be, even if they were living in a modified sewer system.

Back in the present he looked up as a hand was thrust under his chin, smiling softly as he took Remus’ hand and let himself be led away from the others’ idle chatter. He counted himself extremely lucky in the end that Janus had eventually come around to him, seeing how happy he made Remus and how Remus made Logan feel it had been him to finally talk to Logan about it and get the two to officially talk about how they felt, going on about the being “hopeless gay idiots” when they had finally started to date officially. Logan wasn’t sure what he’d do without Remus at this point, just a year later and he was so attached to their small group of hideaways he wouldn’t trade for the world.

They approached the exit to the sewers, Remus swinging their hands between them. Logan held his breath right before they crossed the threshold, closing his eyes and letting it out slowly as his feet met grass and he opened his eyes to the darkened field. There were a few tunnels that lead out to different places depending on where they needed to go and this, Remus had told him, was his favorite because of how empty it was. The city lay far in the distance so there was almost no light pollution to block out the sky. Soft grass and flowers brushed his ankles as he scanned the area carefully, seeing nothing but trees lining the far end of the field with a road so far away he could barely, make it out in the darkness. Remus tugged his hand softly to get his attention, searching his eyes for any hint of discomfort.

“Is this okay?’

Logan took another breath and let it out, the last of his nerves fading away as he took in the quiet. “It’s perfect Remus.”

The other grinned and tugged a little harder this time, walking fast to the middle of the field where he stopped suddenly and raised Logan’s arm up to lead him into an impromptu twirl. Logan laughed quietly and then louder as he was dipped, secure in Remus’ strong hold as he reached up to grip the back of his neck. He was safe. He was free and safe and happy finally with someone who truly loved and cared for him. His breath caught in his throat again but this time in awe, Remus chuckling as he was laid down carefully tucked into his side, till with his arms around his neck.

The stars shone bright and winked lazily while swirls of color dusted faintly behind them. The moon was waning, a barely there light that let the beauty behind it show fully as the wind whisked away any clouds that dared to try and cover it. It was everything Logan had ever hoped it would be and more, excitement thrumming through him as he squeezed Remus tightly in an attempt to convey it. He felt Remus grin against his scalp where his face was buried in his hair.

“It’s beautiful isn't it?”

Logan looked back at him, light from the stars reflected in his eyes and wild brown hair framing his face. He leaned up slightly and kissed him, a faint brush of their lips that left them both grinning like the idiots they were. Placing a hand on Remus’ cheek Logan smiled at him, thumb brushing over his cheek in adoration.

“Absolutely stunning.”

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doubleshotofsomething · 5 years ago

Text

Needy

[ This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan ‘s Little Darlin’ Mystery AU challenge. It is a three part soulmate au inspired by the song ‘Needy’ by Ariana Grande, the prologue and epilogue do not count as part 1/3.]

There is nothing wrong with wanting more. You deserve the love you give to others. You deserve it more than anyone.

Summary: The end is the beginning. The beginning is the end. You can still love someone and not want them in your life.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Thor x Reader

Warnings: angst...aNGST?? fluff ( i think its there, im not sure, but yes). Loki is alive here folks...and... everyone is learning to not be idiots?

Prompts: soulmate au. song prompt

---

series masterlist

---

Epilogue

Born a King.

There are so many things Thor doesn't remember missing about home. The sound of his footsteps as he walked on the bridge, the glimmer of gold when light reflected on it, or the creatures that Earth could never have.

He still had Asgard, at every smile and every nod as he would walk past his people. At every meal and every feast with his people, every conversation with Valkyrie, and every disagreement with Loki. He still had home in them.

Born a King.

He doesn't remember missing the bruises of battles fought, or the stiff muscles of every war won. The anticipation before a fight, or the unpredictability of space. The adrenaline that came with every spark of lightening, the power that came with the energy coursing through his blood. He doesn't remember missing any of that about home.

He doesn't remember why he keeps getting coffee grains of that brand, or how Loki survived in space. He can't remember what colour the ceiling was in the throne room or why he keeps leaving Stormbreaker in the closet. He doesn't remember that being part of home.

Born a King.

He doesn't remember what it felt like when you walked in through the door, or how the look in your eyes made him feel every time you found him on the couch – that too small for two couch – waiting for you. He doesn't remember the way you would try and squirm your way out of his grip in the morning, trying to escape before he made you late again.

He doesn't remember hating the little jokes you would make, or the stupid way you stumbled over your words when he got you flustered. He doesn't remember getting annoyed at the sight of the missing toothbrush next to his, or the milk that he keeps getting and ends up getting spoiled because no one drinks it, or the coffee that's slowly filling up the cupboard. He doesn't remember hating the thought of you.

When the hell did you become home to him?

Born a fucking King.

Then why is the thought of you, sharing your jokes with someone else, making him feel so powerless?

Why is the possibility of another man in your bed, your sheets, poisoning his judgement?

He was born a king, powerful and strong. So, why... why did leaving you make him feel so weak?

Thor was made for a throne, a Kingdom. Not a woman, not a Midgardian woman.

But he doesn't remember yearning for something he cannot have when he was with you. He doesn't remember missing the land he was raised on when he was with you.

He doesn't remember missing home. Especially not when it was curled up on his lap, face buried in his neck as you fell asleep. Not when you smiled at him like that and kissed him like that and held onto him like... like... like you weren't made for anyone else but him.

It has been over a year, but you still failed to leave his mind.

It has been over a year and he still can't unlove you.

"I don't have anything left to give."

How much had your mate taken from you, for you to think that you had to give him something to stay?

How much had everyone taken before you became complacent enough to still give?

Even when you had nothing, you still tried to give him something to stay.

You must think the worst of him, right now. You offered yourself to him, ready to defy fate and nature, for him, and he still chose to leave you.

Thor turned to look at Bucky. His arms were crossed over his chest as he faced Tony, nodding every so often as the man went on about mission strategy. To his right sat Wanda, his wife.

Thor could understand, if he tried to, why someone would not be with their soulmate. He could understand, if he listened, why he chose her. He could come to see reason, he didn't choose you either when the time came, but...

This was you.

Thor may not have chosen to stay, but he still couldn't move on. Not when every fibre of his being still knew what Saturday morning felt like with you.

Blue locks on blue, a colour that just won't seem to choose you.

"Thor..." Bucky raises an eyebrow at him, in question. "You good, buddy?"

He frowns at that. Because no, I'm not good and how could you still be okay? and how did you manage to forget the sound of her footsteps?

Thor shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing as he studies him. For the first time since they had met, he studies the man with another woman on his arm – in his heart.

"You must be so hard to please." He finally says, leaning back against his chair as he scans Bucky one last time.

Thor didn't mean to find you; he was looking for Jane when your car hit him. He didn't mean to keep coming back, he just needed to make sure you were alright. He didn't want to love someone else, but he willingly fell for your fool's gold the second he saw you laugh.

You made him come back for more, until he decided he just wanted to have it all. You made him want things he didn't know he wanted and taught him things that he would have gone his entire existence without knowing. You taught him what love, selfless and unconditional, looked like – felt like... And he couldn't even think about wanting it from someone else.

How could your soulmate want it from someone else?

Bucky frowns at first, confused, then his face visibly hardens. "We're bonded, not matched—"

"Doesn't matter—" Thor stands, hand tightening around stormbreaker. "—I don't care. We're both wrong... But I learn from my failures."

---

You were over it. Really.

A year later and you could walk into your apartment, look at everything and not cry yourself to sleep.

You could separate your own colours, and do your own dishes, and slice up your own peppers. You could roll over and not have to bump into another being in your bed, you could get out of bed and not be late for work.

You couldn't sleep in the dark anymore, but that's not something a bedside lamp can't fix.

The window was jammed again, and the caretaker had reverted to being difficult. Your neighbour woke up one morning and realised Nickelback was his spirit music – whatever that means – so he made sure you heard it too. The couch was still too big for just you and there was that empty space next to the milk, that you can't seem to fill...

But you don't cry whenever it rains and Bucky has stopped trying to reach you, so all in all... Progress.

Good.

Great.

"Jesus Christ—" You nearly jumped into your ceiling, pressing a hand on your chest and shutting your eyes.

Your groceries are scattered on the floor, and your heart is racing. You take a moment to catch your breath, before opening your eyes back up.

He's waiting for you. He has been waiting all day, sitting on the coffee table and staring down at the passage that lead to your door. You're home and he remembers how it felt.

He's waiting for you to calm down, to take a breath. He remembers how you never liked unannounced guests, but he couldn't risk you driving away the second you saw him in the parking lot.

You're looking at him now, finally looking at him after all this time. And he hates how your eyes narrow at him.

He can hear your heartbeat, and he's worried you might pass out if it doesn't slow down. He can feel your anger, from where he's sitting, and he can see it in your eyes – in your stance, in the way you're not wearing that pendant he had made for you.

He left you and that warrants your anger.

He didn't stay when you needed him to, and that justifies your fury.

But his key still fits in the lock, and his fingerprint still deactivates the security alarm. So, surely you don't hate him that much, right?

He wants to say something, tries to say something, but he draws blank. What else does a man say to the woman he let go?

Sorry I didn't stay?

Sorry I didn't fight harder?

Sorry I was too weak to choose you?

"What do you want?"

You speak first though. Your tone harsh to his ears, but it's enough for him to remember why he should have listened to you.

"You."

He's serious. As serious as he was on the day he left, when he told you he couldn't stay – knowing what you were.

So, you don't believe him.

Why should you?

You put your heart on your sleeves, and let him in. Then, as soon as the going got tough, as soon as things got uncomfortable, he leaves.

You don't believe him. Not when you've spent the past year wondering which part of you keeps giving them a reason to leave.

You do not believe him. Because you're done being that idiot. Because you're not that desperate. Because you deserve better.

"I don't believe you." You tell him, glaring at him, at clear sky blues.

He doesn't argue, like you expect him to. He doesn't force it down your throat, like you expect him to. He doesn't demand, or yell, or break anything.

He just nods, slow and understanding.

You don't believe him, and you don't forgive him. And that's okay with him?

He can read the confusion so clearly on your face, it's almost as if he never left. Except he did, and now he has to learn.

"What do you need me to do?" He asks, leaning his elbows against his knees as he looks up at you. "What do you need me to do, to earn your forgiveness?"

What?

You blink at him. Because no. Because not today. Because you were just learning to live without him, and he pulls this stunt?

"I want you." He states, blue eyes unwavering as they stare back at you. "I want you. I want us. I have spent this past year trying to forget, trying to live—to exist— without you... I failed. I failed when I didn't stay, and I failed when I chose to listen to anyone but you.

"I see you everywhere. I feel you everywhere. In my thoughts, in my dreams, in my heart. And every time I think I can get through a task without thinking about you, I hear your voice. I hear your ridiculous laugh and I spend the rest of the day trying to find it, trying to find you—"

"That's not fair—"

"—it's not fair," he agrees, almost instantly, eyes glistening to match yours. "It's not fair. Because fate made you for someone else. But it feels like you were put in this world for me to find. It's not fair because I wasn't made for someone else... but I can't even function without you.

"It's not fair, for me to be here, and ask you to want me back. So I won't. I won't ask you to have me or to believe anything I say. You gave me your trust once and I broke it, and I know that. I failed you, and I'm willing to spend the rest of my life apologising for that— to make up for that... Tell me what you need me to do, is all I ask."

If you were mad before, then you were angry now. Furious, even.

Words. Words. Words.

That's all the whole lot of them have ever been good at. Promising things they can't give, telling you things they shouldn't, preaching and never practising.

Steve had words for you, promises of keeping Bucky away from dangerous missions. Suddenly, you're allowed on the compound because he got too injured to be treated at the Tower.

Wanda had words for you too, telling you all about how she would make sure he never tried to contact you again unless it's an emergency. You've seen him ten times in one week, and none of those were emergencies.

Bucky had the most words for you, though. Preaching about the happiness you deserve and the loneliness you don't, yapping about finding someone but ruining it the second you do. He tells you to move on, to be happy with someone else, but you can barely sleep at night with all his hovering. He smothers and lurks, talking about fixing things.

You tell him to go on less missions, he listens and nods but never agrees. Why would he listen when you’re not his wife?

He talks about forgiveness and promising to be a better mate and friend to you. You listen and nod, but you don’t forgive. Why should you when he’s not your husband?

And now, Thor. The last person you expected to see back in your life, is giving you words. Telling you things. Baseless words and empty promises.

Have you ever seen anything so hollow?

Tears blur your vision, and you don't need to look at your hands to know they're shaking. You're pissed, and hurt and tired of all this bullshit, and you've had just about enough.

"Haven't you people taken enough from me?" Your voice isn't as stable as you had wanted it to be, but it's still yours. "You lot show up, whenever you like, just to take. You don't care about what you leave behind or the shit I have to deal with, all you want to do is take. And take. And take. Even when there's nothing, you still take – what more do you want?"

Your words sit heavy on his chest, and his heart aches for you. He doesn't want to take, but he also didn't stay when you were the only offer on the table.

You struggle to speak past the lump in your throat. "I was ready, to choose you. I told you that I wanted you and you left—" you quickly wipe the tears just as they slide down your cheeks, "—you left, Thor. You can't do this, you can't just walk in here and talk that bullshit like I didn't—like I didn't crash and burn because of you."

"Do you want me to leave?" He hopes you say no. He hopes you ask him to stay and hold you, because he won't be able to walk passed you and leave.

He's hoping you don't break down in front of him, because then he can't leave. And he can't stay for the wrong reasons, he can't stay without your clear-headed say so.

The sound that comes out of you when he asks that, has his stomach cramping for even suggesting that. Because you're staring at him in utter disbelief for saying that, for putting it in the air, for making you even think about it.

"How dare you—"

"Y/N—"

"I never wanted you to leave—" he's getting up from the table and crossing the room to you, before you even finish, "—you did that all on your own."

He doesn't touch you, though. He lost that right a year ago, and he understands. He has a great deal to learn and a lot to amend... so, he'll only stare until you can stomach his touch.

He'll only stare, until he can learn from his mistakes.

He'll only stare, until he's earned the privilege to hold you...

Until he's earned your love, once again.

You deserve better, you know that now, and so does he.

So, he'll be better.

---

THANK YOU SO MUCH for reading this. Thank you so much for all your support and feedback. And thank you so very much for just being here.

Thank you to @sourpatchkidsandacokecan for letting me participate. Your challenge is amazing and so unique(it’s closes on the 20th incase anyone wants to join). Thank you

To anyone that related to this fic, I want you to know that I am so very sorry that someone made you feel that way. Please know that you are not needy or too much. You deserve the love that you give. You deserve selfless and unconditional love. You deserve better.

---

Tagging: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan , @decadentsoulbiscuitgoth

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maandags · 6 years ago

Text

Eidolon (Angel!Keith x Demon!reader) {part iv}

i have no excuse for the wait except that im an idiot who took this school year too lightly yeet

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Summary: Keith is an angel, and he’s completed mission after mission for the Upper Hand, the organisation controlling all of the Above. He’s only failed a mission once: when he was assigned to kill you, a surprisingly charismatic demon. He roamed Earth–Middle Ground–for years before he was caught by the Upper Hand again, and things quickly go south.

Genre: angst. because whats new

Word count: 8.7K

Notes: CW: graphic violence/blood, emotional manipulation - masterlist - {previous} -- {next }

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if heaven's grief brings hell's rain

then i’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

~ Just One Yesterday, Fall Out Boy

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You wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep, disoriented and shivering despite the multiple layers you have on and thick comforter stacked upon you. It takes a moment before the events of the previous night rush back into your mind and cloud your thoughts, and you throw an arm over your face, inhaling deeply.

A huge weight has fallen off your shoulders. Last night, you didn't realise as much, your tired 3 A.M. mind already struggling to focus with the fact that Keith--who had been deathly sick only hours before--was up and about and sitting at your kitchen table and eating chinese takeout. But now that you had the quiet of the early morning to yourself you could feel the knots in your shoulders loosen and the lead seep out of your limbs.

You slowly shift your legs out of bed, still slightly dazed. Sunlight peeks out through the cracks in the shutters covering your window, and you cast a look at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand. It's barely 7 A.M. And it's also a Saturday. While that doesn't matter much in terms of noise–a city is a city, after all, and this one certainly is never quiet–your neighbours' kids aren't allowed out of bed before nine on Saturdays, which gives you at least two small hours of peace and quiet.

You stagger to the bathroom and let the hot shower water beat down your stiff muscles, trying to draw out the permanent chill that seems to have settled deep into your bones. It works a little bit, but when you get out of the steamy little cell and wrap a towel around your torso you can feel it trickle back into the pit of your stomach, like an icy worm that's decided to make your body its home. It's more of a discomfort than a true pain, though, so you decide to ignore it.

Your hair is still damp when you pull an extra thick sweater over your head, stick your feet in warm socks and tiptoe your way over to the living room.

Keith is still asleep. You don't blame him–he's still recovering, even though he already looks so much better than the previous night. The colour is back in his cheeks. The dark circles and the hollowness under his eyes have started to fade away. He's still thin, and he doesn't smell too good, but you decide against waking him just yet.

In the kitchen, you put on the kettle and pull open the fridge in search of something to eat. The unfinished boxes of chinese sit in front, half-open from when you hastily stowed them away. You pull one out, sniff it, then shrug as you grab for a spoon.

The kitchen windowsill is probably not the spot a lot of people would pick to lounge on, an early Saturday morning. But you've always liked to watch the sun rise over the tall buildings, and the soft orange glow you're treated with today is worth waking up so early for. You rest your face on the knee you've pulled up beside you as you shovel another spoonful of rice into your mouth.

The orange slowly fades out into yellow, then into blue. It's soothing to watch, and you find yourself slow your breathing and close your eyes as the city wakes up beneath you. Noises of starting cars and motorbikes drift up to your window, and chattering fills the street. People exit their homes, throwing delightful glances up at the sunny sky; unexpected after the heavy rain of the previous night.

You finish your takeout, do some chores around the house. Change your bedsheets. Prepare a change of clothes for when Keith finally wakes up. Open the windows to let in some fresh air. Prepare a cup of tea and claim back your spot on the windowsill. It's a peaceful morning, and the air doesn't feel quite as heavy as usual.

And then there's a rustling in the room beside you, and a crash as–you assume–Keith tumbles off your sofa and hits the ground. A faint groan floats past the kitchen doorway and you try to hide your grin. A couple of seconds later a very dishevelled-looking Keith stumbles into the kitchen.

"Morning," you tell him, rolling your shoulders once so they won't go stiff against the windowsill. He nods at you, dark eyes bleary. "Feel better?"

He sniffs. "I don't feel like I just got struck by lightning and dragged behind a racecar over an especially rocky road. So I guess that's improvement."

You blow on the hot tea in your hands. "I'm glad. Would have hated to have gone through all that trouble for nothing. You're quite the guest, you know."

Keith winces at the words, despite your light tone. For some reason, his frown and pained expression tug at your stomach. "But I don't mind it," you add hurriedly. "I mean–it was my own choice to take you in. I very well could not have done that. But–but I did." Shut up, shut up, shut up, you shouted internally.

The corners of Keith's mouth lift ever so slightly. "Lucky for me."

"Lucky for you," you agree with a grin.

It's silent for a while, and in the sunlight, you can clearly see how thin Keith really is. His shirt hangs from his frame in a shapeless lump of cloth, his trousers sagging and almost slipping from his bony hips. While he does look better–the life has returned to his eyes–he still doesn't look good, and the sight of him makes your guts twist. You point to the fridge. "There's leftovers from yesterday. Grab whatever you want–but be careful not to eat too much. I don't want you puking all over my kitchen."

But Keith has already found the other chinese box, and you show him which drawers contain cutlery and in which cupboard are stashed the glasses. He scarfs down the rice in ten minutes flat, and you shake your head in silent judgement. "I'm going to find a way to make you pay back everything you'll cost me, food-wise. You're in debt, starting today."

He gives you a shy grin, but his attention is quickly taken up once more by the food in front of him. You quietly sip your tea, staring out of the window, occasionally glancing at the angel sitting at your kitchen table.

That's when it truly hits you how much of an idiot you're being.

Last night, it had been late. Five days of nothing on your mind but the thought of trying to keep him alive, and finally finding a way to do so, had left you shaky and dazed. Seeing him up and about after getting used to the sound of his ragged, unsteady breathing floating through your apartment had been a shock.

But now the full weight of what you'd done–and what you hadn't done–crashes into you, and you realise you have absolutely no idea how to feel. The air charges with tension, and the angel leans back in his seat. He looks about as uncomfortable as you feel. Your mind whirls with thoughts, all seeming to want something different–the part of you that's curious where this whole situation would lead and is whispering to you to let him stay; the part of you that's still a loyal soldier to the Below and is screaming at you to turn him in; the part of you that wants nothing to do with any of this and is growling to throw him back out on the street. You shake your head, downing the last of your tea and hopping off the counter.

"Take a shower when you're done with that," you mutter. "I have to get back to work soon. My co-workers are gonna ask questions and I need to be prepared."

Keith nods. Your phone is already in your hands and you fire off a quick text to the shelter's manager to inform him you'd be in this afternoon. You don't know Anthony that well–he mostly keeps to the side and handles potential adopters. You prefer to stay with the animals. Almost immediately you receive a reply: he says he's delighted that you've decided to return so soon after taking your unexpected leave. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the barely-veiled passive-aggressiveness.

"Oh, yeah." You turn and point at Keith with your phone. "You can stay for as long as you need to, like, get your bearings and feel somewhat okay again, but then I'm kicking you out. I don't know if you have any idea of how much of a risk I'm taking here, but–"

"I get it," he cuts you off, and you can tell he means it. He needs to work on concealing his emotions, you think off-handedly. He's an open book. It's distracting. "Thank you. Seriously."

The tension builds until it's almost tangible. You shake your head, trying to shake the dizziness away. "It's–yeah. My pleasure, or whatever. I'm locking the door behind me." He gives a brief incline of his head to show he understands. "All right then. Later, I guess. Make–make sure you've showered. You kind of smell," you say apologetically. "No offence."

"None taken," he laughs. "You're right, anyway."

You make a gesture that's in between a nod and a headshake, then make a blind grab for your coat and your scarf before pulling the door closed behind you and locking it.

The shelter's lights are on, and its illuminated windows stand out starkly in the dim grimness of the gloomy street. It doesn't rain, for once, but grey clouds hang overhead and block the sun, the little light that makes it past them flimsy and thin. You pull the door closed behind you. The little bell above the doorway rings once, softly, and barking immediately pipes up from the next room over. You smile.

"Hey, loves," you mutter to each animal as you pass their cages, stopping here and there and sticking your fingers through the bars to give a furry face a pat, or to scratch a scaly butt, or to stroke a feathered head. "I missed you guys."

"They missed you too, I think," comes a quiet voice from behind you. You crouch and open a cage, plucking out a small cat and scritching it behind the ears. "They've been rather unruly in the days you weren't here. Restless, you know."

"Hi, Tony."

"Y/N." He inclines his head. "Did you have a nice leave?" It's a question purely out of politeness, you know, because he's your employer and he's supposed to be polite. As far as employers go, Tony really isn't the worst of them. But you can't shake the feeling that he's fishing for something.

"I did. I've been busy," you say cautiously, not taking your eyes off of the kitten you're cradling. "Sorry for it being so unexpected."

"Oh, not at all," Tony replies smoothly, sailing over to where you sit and leaning on the wall behind you, "We've managed. It was your week off, anyway, and just because you've insisted on working in your free time before doesn't mean that you always will." But it doesn't take amazing detective skills to hear the suspicious edge to his voice.

"That's right," you say, maybe a little too sharply. You can almost smell Tony's raised eyebrow behind you. "Sorry. I've just–I've been a little on edge, lately. I'll–" You scramble up, depositing the kitten back in its cage and dusting fur off your t-shirt. "I'll be in the back." You have the weird urge to salute, but you manage to suppress it. He's already suspicious, you remind yourself. Don't make it worse by acting weird.

It is a shame you can't spend more time with the animals, but you're not the only one who decided to come in today–it's actually quite crowded for a Saturday–so you get storage room duty and instead spend your afternoon putting away boxes of food and medicine and cleaning products. Emmie, one of your co-workers, sticks her head around the corner of your door at the end of the day.

"Hey. We're gonna go get milkshakes, wanna come?"

Your back screams when you push off the chair, eager for an excuse to cut your day short. "You're a godsend." The expression is actually used exclusively as an insult in the Below, but you find you like the Middle Ground version better. "Let me just grab my shoes, I'll be right there."

Hopping on one foot as you finish tying your laces, you join Emmie, Nirina, Adam and Zach as they stride out the door, Emmie and Zach's arms linked. In the back of your mind you recognise that's strange: Emmie and Zach can't stand each other. A smile curls the corners of your lips. You did miss quite a lot this past week, didn't you?

"We're going to this new place a few blocks down," Emmie shouts over her shoulder. You try to chat with Nirina for a bit, but she's more silent than usual, barely saying a word, and eventually she retreats to walk next to Adam behind you. When you don't focus on it, a black, vaguely animal-shaped shadow seems to sit on her shoulder, but when you look directly at it nothing's there.

Something isn't right here.

The feeling creeps into your very bones, making the hairs on your neck stand on edge and your shoulder blades tingle. The sense that you're being watched, and more–as you realise that with Nirina and Adam behind you and Emmie and Zach in front of you, it almost feels like you're being escorted. Guarded.

"Hey, Em," you call. Your hand creeps towards your pocket, but with a start you remember you left your knife at home. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "What's the place we're going called?"

Emmie turns around and flashes you a fanged grin. Your blood turns to ice. "So Above, So Below." And then she pounces--and pushes you straight through the pavement. You don't even have time to scream.

You lose all sense of direction. Up is down and left is right as you fall, fall, fall through a black hole, Emmie's nails still digging into your shoulders, though you're sure if you actually opened your eyes you'd see they're claws. You try to tug yourself loose, but her grip immediately tightens. You hiss when you feel her talons draw blood.

"No getting away, Y/N dear," she giggles into your ear.

Well, at least you know what she–and the others too, by the sound of it–is. Only Bountyhunters can get to the Below or the Above without using one of the doors or passages, instead creating their own temporary ones. You've travelled by Bounty Tunnel before. It's not a memory you cherish. The only thing you can do is close your eyes and hope it'll be over soon.

When you finally make contact, all the air is knocked out of you and for a moment you see nothing but black spots dancing in front of your eyes. Then you suck in a scorching breath and blink, and the familiar stark white ceiling of the Offices comes into view. You groan, and when you try to sit up, your hands catch in ashy grey feathers: your wings have popped. You flush, already feeling Haggar's disapproving scowl digging into your back. How unprofessional, she'd mumble.

Haggar has always hated your guts–even back when you were still loyal to the Below.

Emmie–except she looks nothing like Emmie anymore–tosses her long dark ponytail over her shoulder and sighs. "That was almost too easy. We were told you'd be a challenge."

"I haven't been feeling well," you reply, voice icy as you stand up and shake out your wings. You don't miss the way Emmie's expression sours and suppress a smirk. Bounties don't have wings, and they'll never stop being salty about it. "Also, four against one? That seems a little unfair, even for Management." You pause. "I'm assuming you got hired by Management."

"Of course we got hired by Management, demon," Zach snarls. He runs his fingers through his hair and glares at you, his fangs growing by the second and soon touching his chin. And then his face begins to change, his jaw softening (though not by much), his eyes growing more cat-like, his lips plumping. You frown, because you know this face. You know her.

Zethrid grins, fangs shining in the white LED light. "Long time no see, Y/N." You give a sarcastic wave.

"Yes, Y/N," comes an icy voice from behind you. Your shoulders tense, and your feathers puff involuntarily. "Long time no see indeed."

Haggar glides out of her office doors, and you feel all the stony calm and resistance leave you in one fell swoop. Her yellow eyes bore into yours, and it takes every ounce of willpower inside you not to look away. She nods her head, once. "My office, Y/N. Now."

"You're so dead," mutters Zethrid as you pass her.

"When I get out of here, you're the first person whose throat I'll slit," you hiss in return.

Haggar slumps in her seat and plucks her looking glass from its stand, making it levitate over her hand and glaring like she has a personal vendetta against it. "If it were up to me, I would already have you burning and hanging from the Grand Hall ceiling," she says, vanishing the mirror in a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore the pang of fear stabbing into your chest. You're gonna be fine, you tell yourself. You're going to be okay. But you find it hard to believe the words.

"But–" the mirror reappears in her other hand– "a certain Prince insisted on keeping you alive." She whirls the looking glass around and it floats in front of your face. Prince Lotor of the Below looks at you with a scrutinising gaze, as if gauging how much you'd be worth on the night market.

"Y/N," he says in a clear voice. You nod, then quickly incline your head in a slight bow. Watch your tongue, Y/N. Watch. Your. Tongue. "No need for that." Lotor snaps his fingers, and you look up again, eyes fixed on the rim of the looking glass, determined not to meet Lotor's. You're afraid of what you might see.

It's silent for a moment, and you keep your mouth shut for as long as you can, but you eventually break. "Forgive me, Lord, but–"

"Shut up." It takes all of your willpower not to cock your head and narrow your eyes in indignation. Lotor leans forward, elbows perched on his desk and fingertips pressed together. His cold gaze is calculating and cruel, and your entire body reels with disgust and hatred. "I didn't keep you alive because I care about what happens to you. Because I don't," he clarifies with a raised eyebrow, and this time you can't keep the grimly sarcastic smile at bay. "I kept you alive because I need you to do a job."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think I'm the right person for any job." You try to keep your voice light and your fists unclenched, but it's a harder task than you want to admit.

"Told him so," Haggar mutters from behind the mirror. You can tell she thoroughly disagrees with being used as a TV-stand. "There are so much more competent candidates for this assignment who actually want to prove themselves and their loyalty to us." You have the feeling she's talking directly to Lotor now. "But no, you just had to get the one rogue who'll do everything in their power to get out from this–"

"Enough," Lotor says coolly, and Haggar clamps her jaw shut, though her eyes flash with murder. You don't know who she wants to kill more at the moment: you or Lotor. "Y/N will do the job, and they'll do it without complaining."

"You sound awfully sure." You've since given up on trying to be respectful. Lotor might be the Prince of the Below, but you had wriggled yourself out of more difficult situations than these before. You're already carefully plotting an escape.

Because the mistake most people make when they see you is that they underestimate you. They think they have you pinned down, and then they loosen their hold and up till now, that has always worked out in your favour–you know how to manipulate people and you know how to get out of the Below. You know every single of the dozens and dozens of passageways leading out onto Middle Ground, and from there on you know how to hide. You've done it before, and managed to keep off their radar for quite a while.

In fact, the only reason they caught you now was because you had been too preoccupied with a certain angel to keep your thoughts straight. A mistake, and one you won't be making again.

"I am sure," Lotor's clear voice cuts through your thoughts and pulls you back to the present. "There's a contract on the desk. Sign it, and we'll give you the details."

You can't stop the startled laugh that bursts past your lips. "A Blank Contract? You expect me to sign a Blank Contract?"

Lotor merely cocks his head and smiles that lazy smile of his.

And then the little looking glass shatters and you yelp, taking a step backwards in surprise, feeling your muscles tense. "I do," his voice says from behind you, and you whirl around just in time to see Lotor sail into Haggar's office.

Haggar gives a sharp sigh and brushes shattered glass off her uniform. "Do you always have to do that? Those mirrors are expensive, you know. I'm gonna have you pay for them if you insist on making a dramatic entrance every time."

Lotor ignores her, his gaze fixed on you. He waves his hand, and a piece of paper appears between his fingers. It's mostly blank, save for one thickly outlined black square with an inscription you can't read from where you stand, but you know what they say: Candidate's signature. "I'm not signing." But your voice has a tremor to it, and you suddenly feel a lot smaller as Lotor strides towards you. It was a lot easier to disrespect the Prince of the Below through a looking glass.

His eyes flash with irritation. "You will." Somehow, those two words hold more threat to them than all the insults the Bounties threw at you earlier.

But you set your jaw and clench your fists. "I'd rather die. I'm. Not. Signing." You had vowed to not ever help the Below in any way, shape or form again. It wasn't worth it.

"Told you so," Haggar sing-songs from behind her desk, a maniacal glint to her eye. "Just take one of the actually competent ones. Let me string them up."

Lotor gives a sharp sigh. "Touch them and I'll be stringing you up." Haggar pouts and crosses her arms. He turns to you, and the coolness in his eyes sends shivers up your spine. The realisation hits you like a freight train. He's done something. He knows something. He would never be this sure of himself if he didn't have an absolutely airtight plan.

Then Lotor waves his hand again, and another mirror you hadn't noticed before–a looking glass spanning from the floor to the ceiling, partially hidden by a black curtain–lights up, and the image you see has all the colour drain from your face and your heart skip a beat.

Allura is tied to a chair and breathing hard, her nurse's scrubs hanging crookedly, torn and dirty. A nasty cut spans from her cheekbone to her eyebrow, and blood runs down the side of her face. Tears mix with the grime and blood smearing her cheeks. Behind her stand Emmie and Zethrid the Bountyhunters, crazed smiles painted upon both their faces.

As soon as she sees you, Allura lets out a strangled cry that is muffled by the gag strung over her mouth. Her eyes widen, and you rush forward, stopping just short of the mirror's surface, afraid to break it. Your shaking fingertips hover just shy of the surface before you pull them back to your chest. Tears threaten to spill past your eyes, so you push them down and try to take a breath.

"Is this real?" You know how hallucinations work. You know how powerful illusions can be, and you know exactly how useful of a tool they can be in manipluation. It's a tool you've used yourself.

"Maybe. Maybe not," says Lotor's soft voice. His breath washes over the side of your face, and you can feel sick rise in your throat. All compusure is lost. It's all or nothing now. Thoughts muddle and get mixed up in your mind until all you can focus on is Allura, terrified and hurt, sitting in front of you yet separated by a thin sheet of glass and who knows how many miles.

A crazy thought of Maybe I can free her pops up, but you beat it down immediately again. You don't know where she is. You don't know if this is even real. Lotor would immediately order her killed if you attempted anything remotely similar to a breakout. Then kill Lotor, a ragged voice in your mind screams.

"Come, come, no rash decisions now," Lotor says as if he just read your thoughts. His hands ghost over your shoulders, sliding down until they reach your elbows. He gently forces them to your sides, and you don't even have the strength in you to resist. A fresh stream of tears runs down Allura's cheeks, and she weakly thrashes against her bonds, and in the end, that's what yanks you out of your stupor.

Your chin snaps up. "So you'll let her go if I sign the contract?"

Lotor rolls his eyes. "Look whose wits have returned to them." He lets go of your elbows and takes a step toward the mirror, hands clasped behind his back and his hungry gaze raking across Allura's form. She looks up at him with a mix of hatred and fear in her eyes. She's given up struggling against the ropes, but her jaw is set, and her eyes are steely; terrified, but determined. Her gaze flicks back to you and she gives the tiniest shake of her head.

Lotor reels back and laughs, the sound booming within the office walls. He shakes his head, still chuckling, his long silvery hair swishing behind him as he stalks back to the desk and swoops up the contract. "Feisty. I like that. Doesn't have the slightest clue of what's going on but still tells you to not do the thing you obviously don't want to do." He flashes you a fanged grin that makes your blood run cold. "I just might pay her a visit later myself."

"That's Middle Ground, my Prince," you manage through gritted teeth. "I'll find and kill you before you even have a chance to knock on her door."

"That's some confidence you've got right there, Y/N. Keep it for the job."

"I haven't signed your contract yet."

Lotor cocks his head and his grin widens. "Yet being the keyword here."

You turn back to the mirror, scanning Allura for any sign that she might not be real, looking for something that might hint that her image is off. Something. Anything. But your manic brain is running in circles, looking for loopholes that might not even be there, and you know you're not making sense, because the chance that she's just an illusion is there, but on the off-chance that she isn't, that she actually is in danger–

You would never forgive yourself if she were to get hurt and you could have put a stop to it.

"It's possible," you breathe, your hands curling to fists. "It's possible that none of this is real."

Lotor nods as if your words are perfectly reasonable. "True." There's a beat of silence, and his feverish eyes bore into yours. "But are you willing to take that risk?"

Anyone else–any proper demon–would have laughed in his face and torn the contract to shreds, watching gleefully as Allura got tortured in front of their eyes. But you had left behind your demon ways a good while ago, and you had always been a rotten pupil anyway. So you bite your tongue and snatch the contract and pen from Lotor's waiting fingers, scribbling your signature down hard enough that you pierce the paper.

"See, I knew you'd come around in the end!" He claps his hands in delight and throws a triumphant glance Haggar's way. "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles, waving a hand as if to dismiss his words. She gives you a slightly disapppointed stare. "I was rooting for you, kiddo. Show some spine next time."

You fight the tears threatening to spill and slap the now-signed contract back onto the desk. "All right. Details, Lotor. What's the assignment?"

His eyes flash. Business; there's something he knows. "We received word that one of the Above's most prized angels has just gone rogue." He starts pacing, and your eyes keep finding Allura's behind him–but she looks at you with pity and something that's almost disappointment, and you have to look away before you break down completely. "It came out of nowhere, too: stellar record, followed orders without a second thought. A great soldier." You don't miss the punch behind the words.

"And you want me to do, what, kill him?" That wouldn't be too hard. At least, you think. Your mind is still a bit muddy, but something ugly and twisted inside you is still desperate for Management's approval. Still eager to prove yourself. I can be a good soldier too.

"Oh no, no," Lotor says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I just want you to find him and bring him in. It shouldn't be that hard to do–after all, who better to track a rogue than another rogue themselves?"

There's still something else. Something he isn't telling you. Sure, you're good at what you do–at what you used to do–but was it worth going through all the trouble just to get you to sign the stupid contract? As much as you loathed to do it, you silently had to agree with Haggar on this one. There were so many young demons scrambling for their chance to prove themselves and their worth–why not let them take this assignment?

"That–that's it?"

Lotor cocks a brow. "I mean, unless you wanted more work, I guess that's it.'

You give a cautious nod. "Okay. So what do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. My sources weren't able to provide very recent information–"

"Get better sources."

"–But what they do know is that this particular angel has been off the map for years. Quite like you," he adds as he raises his other eyebrow. You roll your eyes. "He's impossible to find, quite hard to track, and a very skilled fighter. Rumour has it he's scouring your city's streets at the moment."

You resist a frown. If this guy has been prowling your streets and you haven't noticed, something is definitely amiss. Might just be that you've been preoccupied with Keith and everything that happened around him, but if this has been going on for as long as Lotor is implying it has... this just might prove an actual challenge.

The old feeling of excitement and anticipation starts to run through your very bones again, and you hate the way it makes you feel–energised. As if you can handle anything thrown your way. Ready. It's a feeling you haven't known in years, and one you haven't missed, though now that it courses through your veins again there's no point in denying that you're enjoying it. The thrill of the chase.

But then Lotor speaks the name of the angel you're supposed to bring in, and everything falls into place, only to shatter into a million pieces a split second after.

You see his lips move. Hear the words spoken, though they take a moment to get processed, and when they do they leave behind an emptiness that has you stare at him, too dumbfounded and untrusting of yourself to speak.

It can't be. This must be the universe's idea of a cruel joke. The very guy you'd risked everything for–the very angel that had caused your distractedness and is the reason you were here in the first place–is the same rogue angel about whom you had just signed a contract.

The crushing weight of it settles on your shoulders. All five days of you struggling to keep him breathing, for nothing. The weird excursion to Coran's shop, for nothing. The goddamn chinese takeout you'd bought for him, for fucking nothing.

But somehow you manage to keep your face straight, and Lotor hadn't been watching you as he said it, instead gazing intently at something over your head, so you can only hope he hasn't noticed the lurch in your expression at the mention of Keith Kogane.

"All right." You're almost shocked at how steady your voice is. "Okay. I've agreed. You got what you want. Now, free Allura." Even though your voice is pretty steady, you curl your hands into fists to hide their shaking.

Lotor doesn't move for a moment, and you seriously begin to think he's having a seizure until he snaps his fingers and Emmie lunges forward.

In her hand is a knife, and she plunges it into Allura's chest without a second of hesitation.

You rush toward the mirror, a strangled "No!" ripped from your throat. Your fingers claw at the smooth glass surface and you watch her slump, blood gushing from the wound and staining her scrubs a dark crimson. Your knees buckle, and your eyes stay glued to her form as she convulses, coughs up blood twice, then goes limp. Her head falls back...

And snaps back up, and you lurch back with a startled cry. Allura's eyes have gone red and are shining with mania. Her skin turns the colour of wet ash, and her hair falls out of its updo and cascades down her shoulders, tendrils black and writhing as if they have a mind of their own...

Demon.

Shapeshifter.

Your breathing comes in short and shallow rasps as the full realisation of things settles in. Allura was never in danger. You were right all along. If only you had put your foot down. If only you hadn't let your feelings cloud your mind.

It doesn't matter now. You signed a contract–and there's no going back from that.

Lotor fingers through the file that bears your signature in black ink. Slowly, the words explaining just what you signed start to appear on the sheets, snaking their way along the curves of the paper as if written in by an invisible hand. A steel fist clenches around your heart, and you struggle to stand up, your muscles turned to jelly. The surface of the mirror has gone black again.

A shaking hand comes up to cover your mouth, and your teeth clench down on your lower lip so hard that they draw blood. Lotor flicks his wrist, and the contract disappears. The fingers of your free hand twitch as if they wanted to grab at the file. You level your gaze with Lotor's, and evidently your years of training finally paid off in the end, because in his eyes you can see how passive your expression is. You'd be a good poker player, your fleeting mind thinks randomly. The only thing giving away your current emotions is the hand mindlessly tugging at your bottom lip, and the fact that your breathing is still rather fast.

"Now," Lotor drawls in his honey-coated voice–sugary sweet, sticky, suffocating–and snakes an arm around your shoulders, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

And you know you should keep your mouth shut, because he is the Prince of the Below, and Haggar has already expressed her desire to string you up and set you on fire in the Grand Hall for every new recruit to see–but on the other hand, you just signed a contract, and that makes you technically untouchable until Lotor has reason to believe you won't be able to complete the task set out for you.

The very foundation of a plan starts coming together in your mind. You jut up your chin and break free from his grasp. "So do I get assignment-issue gear? A blade? A gun, maybe? If this angel is as good as you make him out to be, perhaps I should need some more useful weapons than your average kitchen knife."

Lotor scrutinises you for a moment, then waves his hand. A set of gleaming double blades appear on Haggar's desk, along with their sheaths and long black gloves. Haggar huffs with an indignant mutter of Sure, use my desk as your summoning surface. Don't mind at all. You ignore her and lift an eyebrow. "That's all you're going to give me?"

"If you're as good as you say, this is all you will need," Lotor replies in that smooth tone of his. His eyes glint; he's gotten what he wanted. He's already won.

But that's fine. Lotor may have won this battle, and you need to make him feel like he has, but in the end you'll do everything in your power to win the war. And Lotor just handed you the weapons that just might be able to get you there.

"Fine," you mutter, snatching up the knives, pointedly refusing to strap them to your back like is procedure, instead securing the harnesses to your thighs as a small act of defiance. Irritation flashes in his eyes. "I'll report to you how often?"

"No reports," Lotor says with a wave of his hand. "We don't want to make any potential spies of the Above suspicious. Just make sure you find him, and when you do..." He tosses you a little disk about the size of a large coin, and you startle at how heavy it is. It's pleasantly warm to the touch, and you have a creeping suspicion as to what it is that is only confirmed with Lotor's next words. "Portal pass. Use it wisely."

You turn the pass over and over in your hands, the familiar weight of the knives at your thighs comforting and seeming to pull you down to the ground at the same time. "Is that–will that be all?" Risky words, risky questions–you're going out on a limb and assume Lotor won't have you hanged for running your mouth: he did just pretend to torture your best friend to coerce a signature out of you, so you suppose he has to give you some slack.

He sails to a halt in front of you, face so close his nose almost touches yours, and you have to stop yourself from recoiling. His expression is cold, his gaze calculating–and the smile that creeps up his lips sends shivers up our spine. "Yes. I think that will be all." He raises a brow and throws a glance Haggar's way, which you find comical as he didn't seem to give a solid fuck about her opinions when he used her office as his personal torture chamber.

Haggar shrugs. "I still think we should string them up and burn them to a crisp."

"Yes, Haggar, I know. Why did I even bother." He gives you a lazy flick of his hand, but you've already turned and your hand is resting on the doorknob, when something occurs to you and you cast a look at him over your shoulder.

"My Prince?" The title feels like hot oil searing down your throat, but you expect the words you're about to say require this small bit of courtesy. He raises a brow and nods. "I'm going to kill the Bounties that brought me here." Your voice sounds oddly bored.

Lotor chuckles. "They're no demons. They don't have a place in the Below." It's like his gaze issues a challenge, and a fresh wave of loathing for this Prince washes over your being. "Go right ahead."

You flash a cold smile and slam the door shut.

– – –

You wipe your blades with some wet wipes and discard them in the trashcan beside you when they get too filthy with blood (the store clerk barely looked up when you came in and purchased a single packet of wet wipes and a duffel bag–apparently the average cashier sees weirder stuff than a maniac with bloodied hunting knives the size of their forearms slamming a pack of wet wipes on the counter on a daily basis). Emmie, Adam, Zethrid and Nirina's bodies have long since turned to dust, and you have to work to keep your breathing steady and to stop your eyes from glowing red as the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder rings.

Allura picks up on the fourth ring. "'Sup?"

It was just a check. Just to make sure. But if Allura truly did just get tortured, you have a feeling she wouldn't pick up a phone call with a simple 'Sup?

"Hey. How was your day?" Your speech comes out slightly slurred, and Allura laughs on the other side of the line.

"Fine. Work, you know. Routine." You can almost hear the grin on her face as she says, "And you? Weren't you supposed to be at work too, today?"

Work. Work feels like such a long time ago--when it was in reality only a couple of hours back. You nod slowly, though it's more to convince yourself than anything else. "Yeah. I was. Some co-workers and I went to get smoothies afterwards. To welcome me back," you joke.

"Did they pay?"

"Yeah."

"Good for you. Free milkshake. I'm jealous."

You laugh, but it feels hollow in your chest. "Hey--I need to run now, but I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Sweet of you to check in, Y/N."

You eye the gleaming blade, running a finger along its razor-sharp edge. "No problem."

After you hang up, you sit back against the wall digging into your back, forcing down the pumping feeling in your limbs.

It's something you've missed, and you can't deny it. The absolute exhilaration you feel when your blades make contact, the thrumming of adrenaline in your veins as you dodge to avoid the blows that four individual enemies are throwing at you. The fear in Zethrid's eyes when she realises she is the only one left standing, and the life seeping from her eyes as you slit her throat.

It doesn't make you feel good, exactly–especially now that the thrill of the moment has worn off and you just feel tired and there's an ache that has burrowed itself deep into your bones–but there's no replicating the rush of power that courses through your very being when you're the one in control.

When the blades of death are yours to wield.

The knives are now securely stored in your new black duffel, and you try and figure out how you're going to pull off bringing two huge knives home without rousing suspicion from Keith. You internally debate whether you shouldn't just find a safe space to stash the duffel until you need it. There are quite a few nooks and crannies you know no one in their right mind would look, but then again, this was a big city. There were plenty of creepier people prawling these streets than the occasional demon.

And then you pass a gym, and an idea sparks in your head.

After casually shoplifting a bunch of sportswear from the nearest Nike store, you return to the gym with the knives in your bag hidden by the copious amounts of t-shirts and trainers stacked on top of them. You get a locker and stuff the bag inside before making your way outside again, smiling at the desk guy as you leisurely stroll out of the gym. The guy narrows his eyes at you–your clothes are still slightly torn and dirty, and you're pretty sure you have a bruise forming on the right side of your cheek, but you don't pay him any mind. He works at a gym. He's seen stranger than you.

But the closer you get to your apartment, the heavier the portal pass starts to feel in your pocket, and the more insecure your steps become. The sun hangs low over the city skyline, but hasn't completely started to set yet, and soft golden light washes over the streets, making them look... wrong. Bleak. Colour in a place where colour shouldn't be. You had just killed in these streets, and nobody noticed.

The thought makes you feel kind of sorry for the Bounties. They would be missed by no one.

You're still lost in thought when you almost hit a door and you snap back to reality. Your feet had carried you all the way up to your apartment. You blinked hard, rubbed a hand over your face and fumbled for your keys.

"Hey. It's me. Did you burn the house down while I was gone?"

Keith looks up from where he sits on an armchair–your armchair, but you understand he wouldn't want to spend another minute on the couch he spent five days on, hallucinating out of his mind–and grins, and your heart does a leap. And then he frowns, and you freeze, and your immediate thought is Oh fuck, he's found me out, he knows everything, he's going to call the other angels and he's going to kill me–

But the words he speaks are soft with concern. "What happened to your face?" And it takes all of your willpower not to break down right then and there.

He puts down the book he was reading and walks over to you, eyebrows knotted with worry, and reaches out to touch your forehead. Only then does he seem to realise how close to you he's standing, and he quickly pulls his fingers back to his chest. They're red with blood. "Let's get that disinfected, yeah?"

Before you can answer, he's already started towards your kitchen. You blink, still stunned, before following him like you're in a daze. He looks over his shoulder and points to a kitchen chair. You plop down, and it's when the weight is taken off your legs that the exhaustion comes crashing into you at breakneck speed, and it takes all your strength not to plunk your head down on the kitchen table and just pass out.

"Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

You vaguely point to a cabinet below the sink, and moments later Keith plops the kit down beside you on the table and plucks out a wad of cotton and disinfecting spray. You don't even feel it sting when he gently dabs at the cut on your forehead and cheekbone. His eyes are firmly trained on the cotton, his dark brows furrowed–there's a little crease between them that your foggy self finds most endearing–and he's chewing absent-mindedly on his bottom lip.

With a shock, you realise this is the closest you've been to him. Ever. This is the first time you can properly study his face, and you can always blame your muddy mind later if he brings up how blatantly you were staring at him, so you let yourself drink in every feature of his face. You find yourself drawn to his eyes most; they're a stunning deep violet, the colour of the sky at twilight, when the sun has just set and the last rays of light streak the heavens with purple. Most of all, they're soft with concern and simultaneously fierce with a kind of fire you haven't seen on him before.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Keith's eyes briefly flicker to yours, and he gives an awkward shrug before going back to gently rubbing at your wounds. "It's none of my business. You haven't asked me about what I was doing on Middle Ground in the first place, and I won't stick my nose into what doesn't concern me." But the words sound like he's reciting them; like a lesson he learned at school. You can see in his eyes that he is in fact curious, but also that he isn't going to press further. How very angelic of him.

You purse your lips, fingering the portal pass in your jacket pocket.

Your mind is a jumble of thoughts, like someone took all your emotions and threw them in a blender. Every moment you spend with Keith in your kitchen–how is it you always end up in the kitchen?–you grow more sure that you can't turn him in. But the contract pulls at your insides, and you know that if you keep ignoring its contents it will keep gnawing at you until you can't take it anymore and snap.

The contract is the contract. Binding and eternal.

"Keith."

His hand freezes, and you carefully guide it to the table, gently forcing him to put down the cotton. "Thank you, really. But I'm okay. I promise."

He nods. Slowly. "Okay."

And oh, how you want to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, but that would make things a thousand times more complicated than they already are–

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop. It's the exhaustion talking, you firmly tell yourself, before you yank your fingers back and stand. You're a bit wobbly, but you manage. Keith wisely doesn't attempt to help you, but you can feel his eyes boring into your back as you make your way to your bedroom.

You change. You brush your teeth. You splash some water in your face to clear your head. Everything happens in a haze, your mind too tired to think about anything at all.

But then your eye falls on a piece of paper resting on your pillow. You frown and pick it up, and your eyes widen when you recognise your own scraggly handwriting littering the little parchment card. A hand flies up to your mouth to muffle your startled scream, and you drop the card as if it just burned your fingertips, though your eyes stay glued to its surface.

The words I want Keith to be okay stare back up at you, and with every passing second your breathing gets quicker and more ragged. Your fingers tingle, and as you draw a tentative breath you sink down onto the mattress. Your fingers tingle, but they tingle with warmth, and the feeling is not unpleasant.

Where Keith's own skin brushed yours, the chill that had seeped into your very core and had burrowed there for days, leaving you in a constant state of stiff cold, dissipated. The feeling is so weirdly foreign after having only felt cold for days that you dumbly stare out into nothingness, trying to shake the heat out of your hand. It doesn't work. It feels good, and you want more of it.

For a moment, the contract leaves your mind, replaced by Keith's eyes, the way he'd looked up at you, all softness and worry; the gentleness of his fingers as they cleaned the shallow cuts on your face. You close your eyes and lean back, the little parchment card on the floor seeming to beg for your attention. You never knew paper could be this loud.

For just a moment, you allow yourself to think of Keith and not just see an angel–but something more.

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minjoonalist · 6 years ago

Text

Predilection | Chapter One

Pairing : Jikook x Reader [Feat. Taehyung]

Words: 4k

Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff

Warnings : explicit wording, masturbation, brief hand Job

Description: you want him, he wants you, but he also wants him, and him wants you- but him hurt you. So You hate him.

———

“Y/n, Park Jimin, and Jeon Jungkook. You three will be housing number 6”

“Are you kidding me…” you whisper, not even bothering to listen to whatever your professor had to say next. You were too busy being stuck on the two names that were just called along with yours, wondering what kind of sick joke the universe had to be playing on you to stick you with the men who ruined you years ago.

This can't be happening...

“Damn, tough luck kid” your best friend Taehyung chimes in next to you, just as the professor in the front of your classroom, moves on to the next housing mates of your Off-campus project. “ Rooming with the man you would kill and the man you would kill for? Ouch.” he cringes just before giving an assuring pat to your back.

You instantly slump down into your seat and dread begins to wash over you.

Silently, you were hoping that some miracle would happen, that this all just a terrible dream and you would wake up five mins late on your alarm like usual. But that's not going to happen and you were slowly realizing that. Still, you dont stop yourself from peeking down a few rows- eyes finding your two targets in front of you who are conveniently facing away from you. When you do however, you see that the two men- whose names are going to be linked to yours for the next few weeks- pay you no mind as you do them.

Wouldn’t they want to know whose despicable soul is going to be stuck with them for an entire week? You ask yourself, with a frown- your heart starting to ache when you notice the both of them cuddled up together. One of them tilting his head into a more comfortable angle on the other's shoulder, a bitter taste coming into your mouth from the sight.

“Tae…” You try to whisper to the male next to you.

“One second.” The boy with vibrant blue hair, shushes you- his dark eyes full of stars as he focuses on the front of the class. “ He has yet to say my name and Im praying to the gay cupid himself, that the love of my life is in my housing…” Taehyung bites his plump lip anxiously.

You scoff at him in return, feeling sorry for your wishful friend “Please, I may have gotten unlucky to be trapped with those two...but the chances of you and him becoming housemates are a good slim to none-” your laugh was suddenly cut off by Tae’s small squeak. You notice the way his eyes sparkle with a flash of excitement, the moment he realizes whose names were about to be called.

“Oh my- in all the holy fucks be with me…” he suddenly gasps- Very dramatically might you add and he practically crushes your tiny hand in excitement.

When did he even grab it?

“Please, let me go.” You wince.

“...Last but not least, I was left with only a pair of two and that would leave both Mr. Kim Taehyung and Mr. Min yoongi.” your professor finishes up his list and Unfortunately, Your best friend squeals in delight causing multiple classmates-including your crush to glance in both of your directions.

The sound echoes throughout the hall Immediately, the both of you blushing- especially once you notice your professor rolls his eyes at the interruption.

Taehyung is the main culprit however, once a certain Min Yoongi himself looks up towards him. His curious cat-like eyes landing instantly on him, assessing him, and then sending a small smile. Taehyung’s eyes widen, mouth parting in shock “s-sorry,” he mumbles with a tiny voice, making eye contact with everyone and finally Yoongi. “ I -uh…I just...was shocked a-and...” he trails off, but never finishes, only to drown in embarrassment from the curious gazes.

“Well I’m glad that you are so expressive of it Mr. Kim, perhaps you could try it when I’m actually done speaking?” Your professor announces with no enthusiasm whatsoever, drawing some of the students back towards him. “ Now as I was saying about your Projects…” While he continues on; Slowly, but surely everyone turns their heads away- deciding there wasn't much else to see.

Tae lets out an audible breath he was holding, letting his chest deflate, but only to pull it back when he notices Yoongi still staring up at him. The man looks as if he was going to burst the second the mint haired male sends him a wink before turning back like the others.

“ I... think I just pissed myself...hopefully…” he finally breathes as if he’d ran out of oxygen.

Now would be your cue to tease Taehyung and tell him how much of a dweeb he was for causing all that attention. Or so he thought, his face turning down when nothing comes from your direction

“Uh babe? You alright? ” He questions while lifting a dark brow.

Absolutely fucking not.

Frozen in your seat, you might as well have been a statue, your own breath sticking to the inside of your lungs when a certain silver haired boy with puffy cheeks and a strong jawline- turns in his boyfriend’s arms and looks up in your direction. With scanning eyes, he looks over everyone curiously, seeming as if he was trying to find one person in particular.

You swallow, heart speeding up when they linger over Tae for a moment and then they were snapping to someone next to him.

You.

He was now staring up unapologetically at you. Jimin smiles brightly with his perfect white teeth- he then gives a silent wave of his ringed hand, a confident lip bite coming soon afterwards. This made your heart and the lower parts of your stomach heat up uncontrollably. A strong sense of adoration and lust falling over you, but then anger, guilt and shame immediately afterwards. You put on a shy fake smile back towards him and he falls for it, turning back to the comfort of a certain raven haired asshole.

In an instant Your shy smile turns into a hard glare for your old friend Jungkook, who stares forward unknowingly. not bothering to look up at whoever caused all that noise.

Typical.

“Is there an off button for those lasers?” Tae questions you, before poking your cheek with an adorable pout.

By this time, your class was near its end and you’ve yet to stop glaring at the couple. “Tell me, between burning him alive or strangling him until you see life leave his eyes… How much do you want to kill Jeon?” Taehyung cackles unattractively while waving a hand over your face.

You then release your vicious energy with a blink and turn towards him, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on your face. “ how about stabbing him 33 times in the back until all the blood drained from him in various openings?” You retort in an innocent tone, feeling nothing of the sort.

Everyone around you had already begun to clear out as you packed up your things and you followed immediately grabbing your stuff and passing over Tae. The both of you were making your way down your classroom’s stairs when you notice Taehyung sending you a terrified look.

“What?” You ask in a defensive tone.

“ Nothing just-...that was gruesomely specific.” he replies as the both of you were just getting ready to walk out. Him stopping so that you could pass out the front door and he could follow. “It's things like that, that remind me why you can be extremely terrifying.”

You scoff once again and pause to look at him “oh please, It’s what he did to me...metaphorically at least.”

“That's not the same as wanting it physically, you psycho.” He shakes his head with a bemused smile, silently urging you on and he would soon follow. That was until a hand touched Tae’s shoulder, making him turn with you in tow.

You wouldn’t be shocked if Taehyung’s soul left his body. He widens his eyes, facing a half-smiling mint haired boy-a friendly aura contrasting with his brooding stature. Right there, Tae lets out a pained whimper that only both you and him could hear and You giggle in surprise, stepping back from him.

“Um...Tae- ..hyung, right?” Yoongi’s shockingly deep and monotone voice, brings Tae out of his little world.

He pushes up his square rimmed glasses and puts a rough looking hand out to shake. “I’m Min Yoongi- I think you screamed out in surprise earlier, but I wasn't sure if that was from excitement or disgust.” He chuckles dryly, making you wonder if he was genuinely happy or just doing as the professor suggested.

In front of you, Tae only nods at him, giving a quick and soft smile before taking it. You knew without a doubt he was currently flush red and exploding inside from the comment. When Tae doesn't say anything more, Yoongi quickly looks down towards their shaking hands, Taehyung just then realizing how long he kept it going.

“Oh um-” he quickly snatches it away, embarrassment making his cheeks even pinker. “Yeah n-no, that was for something else…” he quickly lies, although yoongi looks as if he doesn't buy it. Instead, He Chooses to nod appeasingly, thinking better to let it pass.

“Oh? ok- well I was hoping we could discuss our living arrangements for—a...bit?” Yoongi attempts, but hesitates when Tae starts to send him a horrified look. “-or not? my bad, that must be such a dumb Idea.” he shakes his head and that’s when your best friend snaps out of his stupidity.

“No!- I mean ...no, that’s a great idea” He then agrees, finally sending back a genuine smile and the two share a stare for a moment too long. You on the other hand had unnoticeably excused yourself the second you realized this conversation no longer had anything to do with you.

Me: heading to the café , I’ll get us a table.

TaeTae: thanks. Be there soon!

After about 10 minutes across the campus, you manage to text Tae when making your way across the quad.. Eventually, you were just a few feet away from the campus’s coffee shop when a familiar laugh enters your ears, making you glance behind you. Right there, you wanted to swallow yourself whole or to scream out into the universe for the injustice.

Jimin.

Oh for fucks sake….you cursed yourself when you saw the striking couple making their way towards you. Jimin, being the perfect model he is, struts confidently under his much taller boyfriend’s arm and Jungkook squeezes him closer, mumbling something that only the both of them could hear. Jimin had once again burst out with laughter.

You want to pout, it feels as if you were intruding on them, a private moment that was meant solely for the two and you happen to be there witnessing it.

Huffing, you quickly turn away before they could notice and continue walking towards the shop- needing a triple shot latte pronto if you were going to get any studying done for the day. Although you felt you were being as invisible as possible- what you didn’t feel was the pair of eyes that were following you the second you left.

“Please can’t we go talk to her?” Jimin whines into Kook’s side.

He pouts wrapping his arm around Jungkook’s waist and snuggles even more into him to add for a better effect. Jungkook’s conflicted look, stares ahead to your walking figure and he could feel his little ball of happiness breathing up his neck “ Not now, Jimin.” he just replies calmly and looks down to him before pecking his plump lips.

Jimin frowns accusingly at him “But she’s so cute when she's flushed, she’s the most adorable thing ever. ” he says thoughtfully and Jungkook looks down at him in awe when a dark look enters Jimin’s eyes- his cute aura switching off immediately.“I wonder how much cuter she would be in bed” He chuckles and Jungkook will never understand the duality that came with his older boyfriend.

However, it was his turn to frown. He stops dead in his tracks to tower over a perplexed Jimin. “You- No.” he simply states “Hell no, not her. Anyone but her” he looks at him almost desperate, pleading to him and he could understand why his boyfriend’s eyes seem to pop out of their skull at the sudden change. Jimin had never seen him act out this way, He was usually so cool and put together. A bit bossy might he add but still...

“Jeon, you asked me for a threesome and I told you that I would be the one to pick the person. Besides, what's wrong with y/n? Shes super sweet from what I’ve seen of her-shes fucking hot.” he bites his bottom lip already imagining how amazing you would look between the both of them. Jungkook would almost blush at his boyfriend’s behavior .

Fuck, what was he suppose to do?

It seemed like Jimin's eyes were so set on you from the second you both waved at each in class . Yeah, Jungkook saw that and it took so much in him not to look up at you and see your beautiful smile. Not when he knew the second he did- you would make it go away. Jimin has never voiced his opinion on wanting someone other than him and the two had been together since senior year of highschool-

that's when it hit him..that painful suppressed memory of your history. There was nothing that could be done and hell if he didn’t regret it every single day. Still, he had no choice, he would have to tell jimin what happened for it to make sense. Jungkook never wanted to, but with the way Jimin frowned up at him with a suspicious glare, he knew the man would never let this go. After all, he only wanted to make him happy right?

Jungkook swallows painfully before he confesses.. “Jimin…y/n she…well the girl fucking hates my guts.”

and she has every right to…

———

“ Okay so let me get this straight” Taehyung looks at you with a cringing face and you sip slowly on your bitter three shot americano. The both of you enter your classroom, walking further up the stairs away from the front of the class. There's about two days left before your trip and it was your final class to attend.

“ You finally get the chance to talk to Min yoongi-”you start and you pause to take in your best friend’s complete stupidity “-a guy you’ve been wanting since the day you first stepped foot on the campus ... and you blew him off…” you ask then finally taking your normal seat at the top of the class.

Tae almost melts into the ground, dramatically falling into the chair next to you. His cheeks flush and he tries his best to hide his face behind his hand. It was impossible to believe that someone with his confidence and sexual history could possibly be acting the way that he was at the moment.

“I panicked- I never panic.” He exclaims sitting up straight. “The worst part is - I think he might actually like me. Y/n I guess we’re soulmates because we really are some dumb bitches.” he sighs and you shake your head pulling out your laptop when you notice some of your classmates beginning to fill in.

Two girls happened to be walking by when he said that and They looked over to you two. you immediately blush “Excuse me? Im not a dumb bitch, you’re on your own there Tae.” You laugh saying it loud enough for them to hear. He pulls a face at you, then looks up for a moment pretending to think “You know, I was just being nice, but forget what I said cause you’re a sad dumb bitch.” he comes to his conclusion and chuckles at you.

your jaw drops and you lift a brow.

He takes it as green light to continue “You see, Im a dumb bitch, because im crushing on a single man who just might be mine by the end of this trip. I’ve talked to him and although I might have blew him off…” he trails off slowly to cringe “ -theres still a good chance I could have him. now YOU on the other hand - have never even spoken to your crush. Might I add, who’s whipped...in a relationship…with the man you told most about it…declaring you sweet heart-” he bops you on your nose with his finger “a sad dumb bitch” tae smiles sweetly and you pout in hurt.

“hm being a dumb bitch doesn’t look too bad now does it?” He mocks you and you elbow him playfully into his chest. You and taehyung were each other’s worst bullies and probably your worst critics. It was most likely the reason you two stuck together for so long, but even though you knew the man was only joking; his words still stung about Jimin.

It's been three days since your professor announced all the housing mates and you quickly realized you were the only one who hasn’t spoken to yours. As everyone walked in to take their seats, you could see the multiple groups of future housings sitting beside each other.

That's when it really dawned on you…

What exactly would happen when all three of you had to meet? Would Jimin even like you? or Did jungkook already convince him you were the garbage he treated you as back then.

You frowned in deep thought. No way… He seemed nice when he waved at you the other day. In fact Jimin always looked nice, hell It was probably one of his charms that captured you the most. Every moment you saw him he was always smiling and helping others when he didn’t even have to.

Taehyung must have noticed the uneasiness on your face when he suddenly asked you about the two. “You’re either really constipated or you’re thinking about thing one and thing two.”

You looked at him in surprise. “It’s that obvious, huh?”

“Y/n, Babe I know you like the back of my hand, so no it's not. But,” he trails off before continuing “ In all seriousness-...I think you should consider asking for new housemates…” he hesitates to say and the look you give him, tells him that he was right to. He grabs your hand “ I- I just don’t want you to get hurt…you’ve liked jimin for so long and the man has been with Jungkook for four years now. I don’t want you be heartbroken the second you realize just who you’re living with for an entire week. You think I don’t notice how you visibly sink into sadness whenever you see the two? It's not healthy for you, nor for them. So it’s time to move on don’t you think?” Taehyung pours his heart into his speech for you and your stomach begins to turn just a bit.

You’ve felt this way for jimin since your junior year. The famous high school sweetheart Park Jimin and his ex- girlfriend had just broken up and you remembered running to your best friend of the time Jeon Jungkook. You were so excited, but also pitied the poor girl that was probably still in love with him.

“I should talk to him right? I mean it's been 3 months already. It seems like he isn’t talking to anyone” you chirped, walking hand in hand with Jeon down your school’s hallway.

He smiles slightly at you humming in return, before he pulls you into his side and wraps his arm around your shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe Jimin's not the kind of guy you want to go for y/n. I don’t he would fit you...” he says a bit low and you scoff.

“Why not? He’s adorable, he’s smart, and sweet… I haven’t been around him enough- but I bet he's funny too.” you grin and it only falters when you see him still looking ahead with a straight face.

“Guk?” You try, making him blink as if he pulled himself from a trance.

“Yeah, he probably is.”

You suddenly become nauseous from the memory. Your eyes moving towards your class’s entrance just in time to catch the devil himself walking in.

Dressed in all black, he holds his hoodie up on his head and his black boots thumps against the ground as he walks to his seat up front. Your brow furrows and you noticed it was only him by himself- looking more miserable than ever... aww.

“ That asshole.” You whisper only for you to hear.

For most of your class, you could only think about how long Jungkook must have held the truth from you. How every now and then you would find yourself glaring at the back of the man’s head and every other time you were busy wondering where Jimin must’ve gone off to.

By now it was almost over and after realizing that for nearly an hour, your thoughts were being consumed with the two ...Taehyung really was right…

Your obsession for jimin wasn’t healthy and the hate you continued to let consume you for jungkook also wasn’t healthy. They were happily In love and that will never have anything to do with you. Whether you wanted it to or not.

——

Jimin laid wide awake on his bed, in the darkness of his room and it had to be somewhere between 2 to -he-should- really- fucking- sleep- before-his-math- test- in- the- morning AM.

I did something wrong…He thought about the words his boyfriend spoke to him the other day. It was a shocking revelation and one that he just couldn’t seem to get his head wrapped around. He then turned on his side, looking down at the cute bunny faced man he’s loved since highschool.

His features, innocent and soft which was the complete opposite from Jungkook. “What did you do ?” Jimin asks him softly, but of course he couldn’t hear.

A sweet image of you, pops up in his mind. How you smiled down at him nervously, returning a slight wave in class the other day and even then, he could remember the pain in your eyes. Jimin felt like a dumbass, how was it that he never noticed you until now? You were literally too cute.So cute, that when jimin tried to close his eyes for the tenth time that night, all he could imagine was you. It didn’t matter the scenario- but a popular one was definitely you underneath him.

He could see you, a sweaty and trembling mess. Your hair falling messily over your flushed face and pillow. He’d dip his head, kissing you passionately once you fell apart, because of him. although he’d wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of his boyfriend’s name coming out your mouth instead.

Ugh why was he thinking about you so much?

There was just something to you, that had Jimin's skin burning-a desire he hadn’t felt in years. It reminded him of when he first met Jungkook. So much, he opted in not attending your class, already knowing that it certainly wouldn’t be the professor he’d imagine taking against that desk.

The image vanishes and now for the 11th time tonight Jimin found himself awake. “Oh no” he groans suddenly once he lifts the covers from his lower half. He’s hard, the kind where rubbing one out or taking a cold shower simply won't do.

A soft sigh leaves his mouth in frustration. He was angry at Jungkook for his actions, but it wasn’t exactly like he could go to your house and ask “Hey! I'm sorry I completely ignore your existence- but do you think you could suck me off really quick?”. Jimin bites his bottom lip with a quiet chuckle.

If only..

“Kook…” He whines, poking the sleeping boy in his face to wake him. “Kookie please wake up.” he begs, leaning over and kissing him softly until he feels him stir. Jungkook awakes smiling wearily, when he realizes Jimin was no longer ignoring him.

“What's wrong babe?” His hoarse voice sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine when it plays on one of his weaknesses.

Stupid, sexy asshole…

Jimin grabs himself, stroking up and down softly. When he lets out soft sighs, Jungkook picks up on them fairly quickly. Sleep leaves him and he rises, watching Jimin's face contort with pleasure.

“Fuck…” he breathes at the hot sight in front of him.

“I thought about it ...her with us. God I couldn’t help it…” Jimin confesses and Jungkook only swallows because he knows exactly who ‘her’ is. “It was fucking hot kook- I want her. I want to fuck her and you baby.” he moans stroking himself just right.

“I want the both of you...”

Jungkook’s persona suddenly darkens and he takes both of Jimin's hands away. The already naked male climbing over his boyfriend and pinning them above his head possessively. “You don’t speak to me all day and now..?- I thought we already talked about this jiminie?” he speaks the words tightly through his teeth. Jimin pouts writhing under him to get some sort of stimulation. Jungkook notices and he takes one of his hands away to stroke Jimin's shaft himself.

“Y/n isn’t right for us. Not for you and especially not for me.” he lies. You were perfect, you always were. But you hated him and he hated you. That's how it should stay.

It has to…

“Ugh..” the silver moans under him. His hips bucking into his boyfriend’s hand. “ Let me top you.” Jimin requests desperately.

Jungkook’s eyes widen “you want to top me?”

Jimin nods “y-yes” .

Jungkook frowns for a second and he sees the predatory look in Jimin's gaze. He hadn’t seen that look in years, so why the hell was he acting this way now?

Y/n what are you doing to him?

+++

Chapter One | Masterlist

#bts #bangtan #jimin #jungkook #bts scenerio #bts smut #bts smut dirty #bts au #bts imagine #jeon jungkook #park jimin #mxm #taehyung #yoongi #maknae line #najjoossii

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band-of-bitches · 5 years ago

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Hi! I love your blog so much. I was hoping I could send a friendship request? Im a total tom boy and I only get girly when its a fancy event. Most of my friends say Im the leader of the group, like the mom friend. People come to me from help and alive and I'm happy to give it. People also say Im wise for my age but im also a total dumbass. Im also really into art and music; drawing, singing, musical theatre, band. I also love the outdoors. Ive been camping and hiking with my dad for forever.

You are the mom friend, that is an undisputed fact among Easy company. Maybe that’s why you got along so well with Bull from the start. Bull tends to be friends with people who manage to be responsible among a group of a bunch of dumbass 20-something-year-olds who volunteered to jump out of planes. You and he have taken on the role of “proud parents of a few dumbass kids”. You are responsible for the most part, but now and then YOU can be the dumbass, but only around Bull (and sometimes Martin). More than once after celebration Bull has had to throw your drunk self over his shoulder and bring you back to your barracks while you talk gibberish from his shoulder. Sometimes you are completely sober, but you manage to say the dumbest things which always has you groaning because did I really just say that?, but it just leaves Bull chuckling because your dumbassery really makes him laugh sometimes.

You see, the parent thing only became more apparent (pun intended) when Bull got a squad of replacements, and you being part of that squad and Bull's best friend meant you were also in charge of them even though technically you were of similar rank. Bull makes sure they know to listen to you, because “she will kick your ass, boy”. They do, and more than once you’ve saved your squad of replacement’s ass’s, leaving Bull proud and thankful he had you in a squad.

When Bull went MIA for a second, it was Johnny who told you at first. You had wanted to go find him immediately when you heard because there was no fucking way Bull Randleman was dead. You wouldn’t just sit and accept that, so you rallied his, well, your squad to go find him, which was then joined by Hoobler, Webster, and Cobb of all people. You walked all night, not thinking about anything but finding your friend alive. When you saw him riding in the jeep, relatively unharmed, you felt relief as if a dozen bricks were just lifted off your chest. You jogged up to him, grin wide on your face. “What the hell was that? You about to leave me with these good-for-nothing replacements?” you joked. “You could handle em’, turn em’ into something resembling paratroopers”. You along with your squad laughed out loud this time, slapping Bull on the back. It was true though. You could handle leading a squad on your own, but you're glad you didn’t have to.

The end of the war was a huge relief to you. You finally got to go home and relax. You of course kept in touch with the other Easy guys, but especially Bull. At reunions with the Easy company guys were always surprised to see you, because “holy shit is that a dress??”, but Bull would laugh at their faces. It was still you, after all, the only difference was you weren’t wearing dirty OD’s. Bull would always just come up to you and wrap you in a huge bear hug with that classic cigar hanging out of his mouth, telling you it’s good to see yah. You say the same thing because it really was.

SORRY THESE ARE LATE. I hope you like it @weirdbiwitch!

#bull randleman #friendship asks

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reeree1500 · 6 years ago

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His Aphrodisiac...Part 2 Vampire Ivar! x Reader

Disclaimer: Smut 😏(an attempt), spelling and grammar mistakes😬 and my cliched imagination🤣Thank you for all the love and support💕☺️

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @oceans-daughter-3 @camatsuru @youbloodymadgenius @calum-hoodwinked-me @wuxiesalt @supernaturalvikingwhore @readsalot73 @affection-rabbit @blonddnamedhandz @paintballkid711 @ivarthethiccness @limbo-limbo-limbo @funmadnessandbadassvikings

Weeks had gone by after our steamy session in Ivar’s office. I still couldn’t process the fact that he was a vampire. That ancient tale of a monster who sought nothing but blood was true. However, he had proved otherwise. Ivar didn't seem like the type of person to go around sucking people’s blood just because he felt like it. No, he was the type that when I had a problem he would make it disappear. Like Johnathan, my ex-fiancee who wouldn't stop harassing me. As soon as Ivar had found out about him, he never showed up again. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air. Of course I was relieved at the time, but now I cant help but think about if Ivar had anything to do with it...

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

it was the night of the annual Lothbrok Corp dinner. Only a select few people from the office were to attend as many of our sister branches would also send their representatives. Not to mind the fact that the founders of Lothbrok corp would all be there as well, with their friends and family. This year the dinner had been set to occur at Ivar’s mansion upstate. This included a secluded area where the next house wouldnt be in sight for miles. Ivar was a man of privacy and now I could understand why. The dinner was to start in an hour and I had yet to finish my makeup. I wasn't really one to amazing at it, but I knew what would compliment my (y/s/t) complexion. As I finish applying my mascara, I take one last look in the mirror before heading out to the kitchen to find my phone and call an Uber. Taking my coat in one hand and juggling my keys, phone and purse in the other. I manage to somehow lock the door, but not before I’m met with a pair of electric blue eyes. “I..Ivar. W...What are you doing here?” I manage to say through my shock.

“You haven't returned any of my calls or messages since that night (y/n). I wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but I was genuinely worried about you.” He trails off as he says the last part whilst avoiding my gaze. “Ive just had a lot on my mind, Ivar. Im sorry.” I say looking anywhere except his eyes, knowing full well the effect they had on me. In a flash Ivar stepped away from the limousine, took my coat and placed it on his arm and grabbed my hand dragging me towards it. “Ivar what are you doing my Uber’s here.” “I gave him 100 bucks and sent it away. You're coming with me.” He whispers the last part close to my ear before shoving me inside the limo. His tone of voice wasn't all the way warm, it had hints of his icy personality in them and made it hard to breathe for me.

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

The car ride was awkward and filled with lots of tension. Ivar tried multiple times to start a conversation with me, but I paid him no mind. I sat as far away as possible from him, I could swear that there were times where I thought that I would fall out the door. His hands would “accidentally” (as he said) wander all over my legs, tracing patterns and ever so often trailing even higher. It took everything in me to ignore his advances, and he knew very well the effects his touch had on me. His mere touch created a pool of wetness down there and the bastard knew it. Before his hand could go any further, the view of a great mansion surrounded by nothing but trees caught my eye. “Woah, that's huge.” I said as I looked out the window. “And its all yours (y/n), if you’d just have me.” Ivar says as he turns my head and stares into my (e/c) eyes. Getting lost in his electric blue orbs I lose all sense of why I was upset at him. It’s as if it’s only us two and the whole world disappeared when I look at him. Before either one of us could act upon our feelings once again, we’re interrupted by the driver as he pulls up in front of the house. “Oh for fucks sake! Someone is always interrupting us!” Ivar screams out, startling me a little as his eyes began to glow. His sudden outburst made me want to run away, but also made me feel as if I should have calmed him down. Ivar turns to me and he just stares, no sudden movements or words just a blank stare. In seconds Ivar is out of the car and opening the door for me. If I hadnt known that he was a vampire I could've sworn that it had all been a fix of my imagination and that he truly wasnt there.

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

As Ivar led from the limo inside the mansion, I couldnt help but admire the artwork and intricate design of his house. It was something truly unexpected from him. Once inside the ballroom Ivar had disappeared, I guess to greet everyone and say hello to his family. Whom I know he hasn't seen for the longest time. I however, am very overwhelmed and I think it may have to do with the fact that everybody’s eyes are on me. I don't do very well in public scenarios like this one and all the attention is making me a little sick. There was security all over the place and although intimidating I knew that I had to find a washroom as quickly as possible, so I could lock myself in there all night. The bodyguard didn't even speak, he just pointed towards the stairs and went back to acting as if I wasnt there. Shrugging it off I make my way up the stairs only to find a corridor with an exceptional amount of doors. Internally cursing myself I make my way down and knock on every door, but they're all locked. I almost gave up until I saw the double doors on the right. Obviously this couldn't be bathroom, but at this point I didn't care, I just had to find a place to stay till it was time to go.

As I opened the double doors Im greeted by an awfully dark lit room, with intricate black designs. The cravings on the bed posts and the paintings around are those of ancient nordic runes, something that led me to believe that this might have been Ivar’s room. I knew of his great admiration foe his background, he loved anything that had to do with nordic beliefs and ancient gods. Making may way inside Im transfixed by all the artwork and details around me that I fail to acknowledge the presence that lies in the corner of the room. “So, I seem you've made yourself acquainted with my room already, (y/n)” Ivar says as he walks out of the shadows with his crutches? “Oh my God, Ivar are you okay? I literally left you for less than an hour and you've already gone an injured yourself! Wait, I dont mean to sound like a bitch/ignorant or anything, but why do you have crutches? Aren't like vampires supposed to be like physically invincible?” I said all in one breath, as Ivar just cocked his head to the side and stared at me. “You honestly believe everything that the media tells you, dont you?” Point taken, all I knew about vampires were form shows, movies and books that were then turned into movies or shows. “Anyway, before I became a vampire, I was actually a viking. Hence all the nordic runes everywhere and the massive tattoo on my chest and back. My family was very rich and my father Ragnar was king. However, unlike my siblings I was born without function in my legs. Which is why I use those metal braces in the corner over there while I'm in public, and these only around people I trust.” He says moving closer to me. “Now, tell me as to what drew you to come in to my room without me, (Y/n).” Ivar says as he draws my name longer than he has to, in a very sensual tone that makes my knees tremble.

“(y/n), give in. Dont fight it, we were meant to be. You're the reason I can finally feel alive. If it weren't for you, I probably would've kept roaming this world with no sense of purpose. I know you feel this connection. So once again , will you let me take care of you?” And in that moment all senses had been thrown out the window.

Ivar closed the gap with his hot mouth against yours. You gasped as you felt the heat spiral through you, as you ran your fingers through his soft locks. Throwing the crutches to the side Ivar manages to pick you up the hips and deepens the kiss. The sensual dance between your tongue and his is soon over as you cave in to his dominance and let his explore your mouth, slowly with deliberate movements. “Ahhhh...” A moan escapes your lips as his lips move down to your neck. “Since I saw you in that dress earlier tonight, it took everything in me to not act on impulse.” Making his way to the bed, Ivar lays you gently on the back satin sheets and holds himself up as his roam over your body in admiration. Ivar then looks at you for permission as his fingers begin unlacing and unzipping your dress. As Ivar kisses along to every spot that is unveiled to him, goosebumps begin to raise along your skin. You had longed for this moment for awhile, but had denied yourself of the pleasure due to your fear. Oh how stupid could I have been you thought to yourself as you relish in the pleasure that this man brought you every time he kissed and caressed you. “You're so beautiful...” Ivar says as he touches you with reverent fingers, as he begins caressing that part of your body that is not very often explored.

His fingers begin tracing the inside of my hips as his head dips down to my flower. Ivar takes my clit into his mouth and gently bites it, bringing a pleasure that I cannot describe. My hips buck up to him on their own accord asking for more. But he holds me down and brings his face up to mine. His intense gaze had distracted me for a second as his ministrations towards my clit were over. But before I could beg him and ask him for more, it was as fi Ivar had already beat me to it. In a flash he had dipped and curled 2 of his massive fingers into my hole. Pumping them in at an alarmingly fast rate. “I..Ivar, that feels so good!” I manage to say through my moans that are increasingly louder as I throw my head back from all this pleasure. Ivar’s pace becomes steady and his lips are now focused on my right breast, kissing and caressing it as if it were his favourite thing in the world. My hands uncurl form the sheets and move towards his head caressing it and then bringing it up so that I could kiss him. This time I wanted to show him that I too cared for him. And all that fear had been washed away, this man had been everything to me the minute I started working for him and Would be damned if I let him get away. Vampire or not!

Bringing him in for a kiss Ivar tries to take control and dominate again, but this time I would be in control. I manage to shock Ivar with the lack of submission that he’s used to seeing from me. I use this to my advantage and flip us over. Trying to not hurt him in the process. I break apart our kiss and stare deeply into his eyes as our heave breaths begin to entangle with each other and become one. I slowly remove his fingers from my hole, much to his dismay. And before he could protest I place my finger to his lips. “You've shown me how much you care for me. Time and time again Ivar. Let me show you that I care too.” At this his eyes hold admiration, surprise, and hints uncertainty. Making my way down his body, I leave trail of kisses form his chest all the way down to his legs. Taking my time kissing every part of them and staring into his eyes with love and tenderness, which he mirrors in his gaze towards me. I then make my way up to his long and already hard cock. Oozing with loads of precum. Licking the excess I take as much as I can into my mouth as I wrap my hangs around the base his very thick and long shaft. Pumping and bobbing my head I can feel and hear Ivar’s pleasure. His hands wrap around my (h/l)(h/c) hair and his hips thrust forward. I can see that he is reaching his high and before I could make him cum, he pulls out of my mouth. “I’d like to cum inside you, if you'd let me (y/n)” He says as his hands pull my face into a heated kiss.

Climbing on top of him I go to position myself on his member. However, Ivar flips us around so that he is the one on top. I could only look at him in shock for a second before my eyes roll back as I feel him thrust into me with one swift movement. My hands wrap around his torso, and claw at his back from the overwhelming sense of pleasure. Our moans become a melody to my ears, but soon I can feel myself reaching that high. “Ivar.....Im gonna” “I know baby, me too.” And just like that with a few more of his powerful thrusts Ivar and I reach our edge. Ivar and I stare into each others eyes with admiration and love. My hands without thought brush the strands from his hair away from his sweaty face. “Dont leave me ever again (y/n), I mean it. Those weeks that went by were probably the hardest of my life.” He breathes out as he caresses my face and body so gently, as if he were thinking that I would just vanish right there. “I would never think of leaving you again, ever. Im your aphrodisiac after all. What would you do without me?” And without a care in the world we lied in each others arms whilst the party roared downstairs, and the host nowhere to be found.

#vikings #vikings history channel #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings ivar #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #reader x ivar #one shot #vikings smut #vikings fluff

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rewritingthestars · 6 years ago

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A/n: whats up guys im not dead and I finally wrote a thing

The kingdom of Evermore shines brightly underneath the never-ending light of the sun. Golden cities and silver towers cover the lands in spades, shimmering blindingly across the horizon. The City of White. The Sun God’s Temple. The half of the world that never is to sleep, and never to wake, as the moon will never come.

In the heart of Evermore, it’s castle sits high and proud, a golden marvel of wealth and power. It stretches far more vast than any other building for hundreds of miles, a city of it’s own making. In the center of the castle, a large square of land takes space within.

They call it the Garden for reasons unbeknownst to Neil, as not a single living thing grows on the marbled floors and chiseled statues. Neil places his hand on a nearby pillar, steadying himself with it as he tentatively steps into the Garden. A thick, warm liquid soaks between his toes and underneath his feet, unpleasantly sticking to his skin and sloshing around on the floors of the Garden.

Neil can’t see what it is but years of living in the castle and the sickening smell is more than enough insight into what is currently staining his skin. He ignores it as it is, pushing off of the pillar and slowly walking forward, step by counted step, reaching his hands out cautiously until they bump into a fountain made out of gold.

Neil sits down on the edge and stretches a hand out to press it into the waters that run from the structure, wondering if that too is stained red with blood. He thinks the dress he slipped on today was white but now there’s no way to tell what color it might have become.

“Seer.” Comes a voice from Neil’s left, and Neil sighs in aggravation.

“Tell them if they want me for another vision they’ll have to wait. I’ve spent the last twelve hours pushing my limits, I have no more to give.” Neil says sharply.

The guard bluntly ignores this, his steps making a disgusting sound as he treks through the blood and grabs Neil by the arm. “The King will not be denied.” The guard says before dragging him to his feet.

Neil slaps away the guard’s hand with a growl, glaring in an approximate direction of the man. “I’m blind not cripple, I don’t need you to walk me.”

“You know that’s not how this works.” He says, once again grabbing Neil’s arm and pulling him to follow, ignoring Neil’s curses and struggles.

Evermore has owned him since birth. A bird is branded into the back of his heel, one that’s been there since he was a baby, symbolizing the royal family. His father made him with every intention of him being a seer, a prophet. His mother’s bloodline has a history of seers, randomly passed down throughout generations, and Neil just happened to get the unlucky draw of power. Seers are rare, only a few ever around at the same time, if there are any at all. Wars have been fought and kingdoms have fallen for the control of a seer. The moment Neil revealed he had true sight he lost whatever hope of freedom he could have had.

His mother, foolishly, desperately, died for that dead idea of freedom. Neil wonders how long it will take before he will do the same.

He’s the reason the Moriyamas are still on top, are still fighting and winning wars and territories. It leaves a sickness in Neil, an anger knowing he’s helping the very people who have him held as their prisoner.

The guard throws him down with little warning and Neil falls to his knees painfully.

“You are dismissed.” A voice says blandly, but stern. The guard takes his leave, leaving Neil alone with the King.

“Seer,” Ichirou says, ”I need your eyes once more.”

“I have no more sight to give.” Neil says back. “My lord.” He spits out after.

A hand grips his chin harshly, tilting it up and forcing his neck to bend. “That was not a request. If you refuse me again Riko will have you for the week.” Ichirou says coldly, and Neil can’t suppress the shutter that takes over his body.

Neil lets out a shaky breath, “I will try, my lord.”

“Don’t try, do.” He says, releasing Neil’s chin, and presses a bowl of water into Neil’s hands.

Neil nods, gritting his teeth but holding his tongue for once.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, lowering his head and slipping a hand into the water.

His fingertips dance over its surface, feeling the ripples and waves it creates. Neil focuses on the dismal amount of power left within him after days of forced visions, and rips at it harshly and painfully, gasping hard at the tear, blood dripping out of his nose and into the bowl.

There’s a swell of burning heat to his flesh, but Neil can tell it won’t hold for long.

“What do you want to know.” Neil says, or probably says, maybe says. Neil is lightyears away from sound, infinitely removed from space and time itself. Ichirou’s words pass through and out of his memory, something of foxes and twilight, and Neil opens his eyes and sees.

The world is dark and misty, a tavern in front of him with rain falling around him. Palmetto, the kingdom of the night, the City of Twilight. The half of the world forever purged in darkness.

The tavern is filled with soldiers and people of importance, people that really shouldn’t hold a meeting in a shitty hole in the wall bar. King Wymack holds a conversation in the back room, surrounded by men and women arguing loudly, a shouting match soon to turn into a fist fight.

“Enough!” The King bellows, and the room goes quiet. He rubs at his temples harshly with a sigh. “We need ideas, not to kill each other. This was suppose to be a meeting on taking down the Moriyamas, once in for all, not a pissing contest!”

“We have an idea,” A man argues next to him. Kevin Day, Neil’s insight tells him, the traitor of Evermore. “You just aren’t listening.”

“It’s not that I’m not listening, it’s just a suicidal plan!” The King argues.

“We need to take out their seer.” Kevin plows on. “As long as they can predict our every move we have no chance.”

“And I agree with you.” The King says, “But there is no one here who can walk into that castle and come back alive!”

“If I volunteer can we wrap up this bullshit.” Another voices says boredly, almost emotionlessly. He’s short compared to his comrades, blond. Andrew Minyard, his insight supplies him though that doesn’t really help him know the man.

“You’ll die.” Reiterates the King.

“Anything is better than this.” Andrew replies blankly, and a man next to him, Nickolas Hemmick, makes a protesting noise, flailing his arms wildly.

“NO! No! What the fuck, Andrew, you can’t just walk into Evermore, are you serious?!” He shouts. Cousins, his insight says, and Neil hums in reply.

“Actually, out of all of us Andrew is the best candidate for doing this.” A girl says. Natalie Shields, his insight says, before pausing. Renee Walker, it corrects.

“He’s the only one here with any shadow training.” Renee explains, “If we can cause a distraction, it shouldn’t be as much of a risk.”

“But what distraction?!” A man identical to Andrew, Aaron Minyard, shouts out in frustration. “We don’t have the resources nor the men to stage a false attack!”

“But we don’t need the resources.” A woman says grinning with an idea. Danielle Wilds. “We just need to look like we do.”

“An illusion spell?” Says the man next to her, Matthew Bloyd. “Do we even have someone who could do that much magic?”

“I can do it.” Kevin says arrogantly.

A woman, Allison Reynolds, scuffs, ”You can barely light a candle, how the fuck are you gonna manage a full bodied attack?”

Kevin glares daggers at her but doesn’t relent, “I can do it.”

“With some help,” Renee suggests, “If we can get Jeremy from the Trojans in on this we might have a fighting chance.”

Sight leaves Neil suddenly and starkly, darkness flooding his vision and his body aching to remind him of reality. The bowl falls from his hands with a shatter and he gasps out, and chokes, his mouth full of blood and he coughs it out onto the palace floors. Blood steadily falls from his nose and the wetness on his cheeks warns him it’s also falling from his eyes.

It’s rare for Neil to be pushed to such a deadly extent and he can feel his body shake as it starts to fail on him.

“Tell me.” Ichirou says without remorse and Neil holds back a sob as pain rings throughout his body.

“Attack,” He grits out, “East side of the nest. They’re taking all the magic users they got and pushing through that point.” Neil lies.

“Is that all?” Ichirou presses.

“If I look anymore I’ll die.” Neil slurs out, right before collapsing onto the floors already slick with his own blood.

#tfc fic #andreil #fantasy au #neil wears a dress because why not #neil is a seer #tw blood #im premed and havent wrote shit for famdom in over six months #instead of studying biochem i wrote this #cant wait to fail my finals

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mirohed · 6 years ago

Text

park seonghwa | the trouble with twenty

pairing: park seonghwa + fem!reader (theres ONE mention of the reader being female im kinda mad i thought this was gender neutral the whole time)

wc: 3.0k

genre: fluff and angst (but the fluff wins)

warning: mentions of death

concept: when you fall in love with someone that isn’t your soulmate, you give a piece of your soul to them; failure to find your soulmate before running out of soul to give results in one’s death + you stop physically aging when you hit the age of twenty.

a/n: ok holy shit i ,, never finish my wips 99% of the time so im glad this could b the 1% !! s/o to @akokj @cheelix @lvryeol @trulyjaehyuk & finally a big big thank you to one of my irls who’s been w it since its beginnings in early january SDHJS

The universe, you find, seems to work in mysterious ways; you meet your first boyfriend in high school. The both of you are wide-eyed teenagers with no sense of how love works, but it's fine as long as you're together. It's Jongho that sits across from you at the diner and sips from your shared milkshake. It's Jongho that takes you to drive-in theaters and plants a nervous kiss to your lips on the ride home.

It's a sweet love that blooms in the summer, a whirlwind sweeping you higher and higher, and you relish the view. Being with him comes with this sweet, bubbling feeling ("Like soda?" he had joked one afternoon) that begins in the pit of your stomach, spreading outward until you sport matching carefree grins and aching cheeks.

The year is 1939, and you're on the cusp of your nineteenth birthday when all that has gone up begins to come crashing down.

You're about to fall asleep one night when you sit up, a sharp pain shooting through your whole body. You know what this feeling is; you've had to help Jongho through it when he went through the same thing.

Everyone says losing a part of one's soul is both a tragedy and an expected outcome. You've always maintained the opinion that the universe enacts its own cruel, unusual punishment on those who love anyone besides their fated partner. Those you love more than life itself are the ones who end up killing you.

Loving Jongho burns. It sears your whole body with an inhuman heat, and your mouth opens in a silent, pained scream.

And just as quickly as it had come, the pain vanishes, leaving a faint heat under your skin.

You turn nineteen. You still live in the same town you were born in. You reexamine your life.

Growing old isn't for you; too much to do, too much to see. You're meant for things greater than wasting away as his housewife and nursing his children.

A few nights later, you disappear with nothing but a few bags, whatever fuel remains in your car, and the road ahead to keep you company.

You wish you could say you lose track of time from there, but you don't. Time passes, and the world patches itself from years of war and anger. You return to what could be considered the new normal a little hardened from harrowing times, but otherwise no worse for wear.

You spend time with others — enough to break a few hearts. The feeling of new life, pieces of other people’s souls, being breathed into skin that grows older is a high unlike any other. You push down any thoughts of love, running from town to town the second things feel too real for you. Your body stops aging, and it’s a little jarring at first, but you grow used to seeing a twenty-year-old you in the mirror, even as you age far past it.

Your friends and family are still alive and well. You write to them sometimes, letters with no return address. You know your family wants you back, wants you to find the one your soul aches for, wants you tied down. You tried to understand it, you really did, but all it got you were sympathetic looks and a divide that wedges itself deeper and deeper and deeper.

At some point you realize that the letters you wrote, once full of emotion, have become monotonous, mere updates with no real commentary. You stop writing them.

The transition from summer's vivid green to autumn's dusty orange marks your arrival in a new town. You're idly swirling a drink in your hands when you lock eyes with a leather-clad young man from across the bar.

It's 1953 when you meet Mingi. He's exhilaration, speeding down empty land on a motorcycle he keeps pristine. He's everything your parents might have frowned at, bruised and bloody knuckles that have seen one too many bar fights. You come to find that he keeps a surprisingly soft heart locked behind it, one that opens easily to you.

The two of you are on a road trip when you feel that familiar rush, and you help him pull over. He grips your hands, bites into the blanket in the backseat, until it's over. He lets you take the wheel until you reach a rest stop.

You remember the night you gave the second piece of your soul away. It's a chilly autumn night — your anniversary. You hadn't listened to him when he had told you to dress for cold weather, and you were paying the price. Shivering, you run your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm up as you get off his motorcycle. It doesn't work, and Mingi notices, doing his best to hide a grin.

"What did I tell you?" he teases. You're about to open your mouth for a retort when he shrugs his jacket off (that same worn leather piece you saw a year ago) and helps you fit your arms in the sleeves. It's an action he's used to, but there's something about the atmosphere tonight that makes your breath hitch. You look up at him, and he grins before leaning in.

The kiss is slow, his mouth moving languidly against yours as the city sleeps below. He pulls away first, biting back a chuckle when your lips try to follow. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls you into his embrace.

And again, the pain that makes your blood boil. Somewhere in the haze of pain, between bunching your hands in his shirt and loud curses into the night, you tell yourself this is the last time you give your soul to another.

You feel a subtle pain in your chest as you head to the next town, leaving Mingi and the memories in the rearview mirror.

Time passes, and you see enough winters to make you sick of snow. You become the longest-lived person in known history, and it makes you famous.

You're contacted to speak about your accounts from major historical events (none of which are particularly useful), and find yourself in movies and documentaries, on talk shows, and more than once as a speaker for a new museum. There was a point where you could turn a corner and someone would recognize you as the only living "immortal."

It's one of those corners turned, on one of those countless winters, that you run into a young man. You don’t miss the way he swallows lightly before clearing his throat to apologize.

You've long since lost track of time when you meet Hongjoong. (But if you had to give an estimate, you'd put it around the 21st century.) You don't think it matters when he takes you for coffee, pulling you into a cozy corner cafe. He draws you in, little by little, and you pretend to not notice.

Where he is open, you are closed — on your fifth date, he tells you that he doesn't think he'll find his soulmate anytime soon.

("The world is too big," he says, bumping shoulders as you walk side by side. "I'm too old to keep going."

"How old?" you ask. He hums, takes a preparatory sip from his drink.

"Almost forty by now, I think."

You wonder if he's forgotten that you must be more than twice his age. Instead you say, "Really? You don't look a day over twenty." He grins at that, a beautiful thing that leads to a laugh you could never tire of hearing.)

You stay with him for much longer than you need to, long after he's given one of the last pieces of his soul to you. You wait for the "right time" to leave, but the right time never comes. Time passes. Seasons change. The two of you stay together for many winters before you finally come to your senses.

It happens one morning when you wake up shivering because he's hogged the blanket (again). As you try to reclaim it, you feel the familiar heat threaten to boil over.

You barely manage to get to the bathroom before the pain begins to crash over you in full force. After it's over, you remove your hand from your mouth, refusing to look at the tooth marks left behind.

There’s no more waiting for the right time, you think over the klaxon that blares in your head. It’s here and now.

Leaving Hongjoong is a terrifying thought, and somehow even harder to follow through with. His love isn't like Jongho's, sweet and awkward; it isn't like Mingi's, a fast-paced adrenaline rush; it's different. Softer. He reminds you of home — or at least, as home as a person can get for someone like you.

And unlike with Jongho and Mingi, the thought of staying with Hongjoong is very realistic. You've caught yourself picturing it more than once, and had to chastise yourself each time.

You pack your things for the millionth time, but as you glance back at your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, you realize you can't just leave him without an explanation. The years you’ve spent together mean more to you than that.

Hongjoong wakes up hours later to a tear-stained letter. (By the time he finishes it, the ink is smudged and barely legible. His tears have mixed with yours in a sort of last kiss between them, and the thought causes him to sob once more.)

Joong,

If you’re reading this, I guess I must have already left. I wish things could be different I know you, and I already know that you’re gonna take this personally and blame yourself for not being enough. You are enough. You’re more than enough. I think I’m just selfish

Anyway I just want to thank you for...everything. The past few years have been better than I can express, and I think that’s what scares me. You’re the You’ll find your soulmate soon, whether they’re your meant to be or not. I’m sorry it couldn’t be me.

I love you.

Goodbye.

You definitely keep your guard up after that. Through every date you go on and every significant other you burn through, your walls stay up.

You've grown nostalgic over the past decade. Using the wildly advanced technology of who-knows-when, you track down a list of death sites.

You visit your family first. Your heart breaks a bit seeing the empty space in the shared family headstone. This was where you were supposed to be laid to rest. You turn away from the dilapidated cemetery, pulling up the coordinates to your next destination.

You find yourself staring at the fountain in the middle of a shopping mall. According to your holotech, this is where Jongho is buried. Your lips form a disapproving line as you close your eyes and try not to think about how he would have loved this place. You try not to think about him taking you here and nudging you in the direction of the arcade or food court as you rush out the doors.

They've gone and built a neighborhood over the cemetery where you would have found Mingi. From the looks of it, it looks like its residents are particularly affluent, and you can hear him snort in your ear. Even after years apart, you swear you can still smell the strong scent of cigarettes that followed him like a lost puppy. He would have hated his fate, and you offer a morbid chuckle in his memory.

You're crouched beside Hongjoong's tombstone, running a thumb over the warm stone. The birds chirp amongst themselves in a nearby tree, and you're thankful for the distraction. He wasn't buried with another person; you hope he managed to find someone regardless. You read the inscription — To you, forever and always — and swallow the lump of guilt that’s lodged itself in your throat.

It's on a calm spring morning that your holo rings. The centennial edition of a documentary you were in is currently being filmed, and the staff is requesting you interview with them again. You were going to accept anyway, but the producer piques your interest when she mentions another similarly...long-lived person. The trepidation in her voice is obvious, but you ignore it. Instead, you ask for the name of this immortal and to be interviewed with them. ("I thought I was the only one around," you had laughed into the phone. "It'd be good to make a new friend." The producer gave a pitying hum before agreeing.)

You try to search for any evidence of this new immortal, but come up with virtually nothing. You're more than a little disappointed that this person isn't milking their age for all it's worth, but you suppose they’re just more private than you are; after all, their existence is a relatively recent discovery.

When you first meet Seonghwa, you find it difficult to breathe. He's handsome, with a tall frame and a cute smile that would have caught your eye regardless.

Seeing him also hits you with a feeling you've dreaded for hundreds of years that makes your chest tighten. (In hindsight, you should have known exactly who he had to be, considering his similarly long life.) When you make eye contact, you can tell he feels the same immediate attraction. He has the audacity to smile.

"Finally," he murmurs. It's reverent, as if he's finally fulfilled his life's purpose. Your clench your jaw, ball your hands into fists so tight your knuckles go white, and narrow your eyes. Your heart's going a mile a minute, and you're choosing to interpret it as anger.

You've spent centuries building your fame on a foundation of nothing but broken hearts and your own ambition, and for what?

You're not sure how old you are when you find yourself on the downswing. You know that your body will start to physically age, and in about sixty years, you will have met the same fate as everyone you've left behind. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you swallow it, at least for the time being.

The interview goes off without a hitch, and you make to leave after thanking the staff when —

"Wait!" Biting back a curse, you continue moving (and make an effort to go faster). Unfortunately, Seonghwa's more than capable of keeping up with you.

"Look," he begins, running a hand through his hair, "I don't claim to know your relationship situation, but I'd at least like it if we were friends." He focuses on the polished toe of his shoe and gives an anxious chuckle that seems to be more for himself than you. "After all, we're soulmates. You might not believe in them, but I've imagined what it would be like to finally meet my soulmate since I was young."

You don't know how (you blame the universe), but you go out for lunch with him after that. Much of the meal is spent in silence (although you've got to take the blame for this one), and it's not until you're almost done that he strikes up a conversation.

"Were you hiding?" He twists the straw of his drink between two fingers before making eye contact.

"I don't hide. You've probably seen me around in some ad or another on the holo. Maybe even before that, when people still used computers and printed newspapers." He narrows his eyes a bit, trying to remember, but comes up with nothing. "I always thought it was you that hid. I've been all over the world, but this was the first time I've ever heard news of another immortal."

"I believe in fate. I've taken things as they came because I knew that in the end, it would be you and me. Turns out I was right."

You don't know how (you're still blaming the universe), but you exchange contact information. You go on more...friendly excursions with Seonghwa.

("Why not cut out the middleman and call them dates?" he asks, settling down on the couch next to you.

"They're not dates. We're not together, are we?" You turn the movie on, marking the end of the conversation.

When you fall asleep latched onto his arm, your head on his shoulder, he plants a soft kiss on your forehead. You wake up that morning wrapped in a blanket that wasn't there last night.)

You don't know how (actually, you do), but "friendly excursions" eventually turn into dates.

(The two of you sit at a park bench, listening to rustling leaves and the distant noise of cars passing.

"Is this a date?" you ask, taking a spoonful of his ice cream, your own sitting empty on your lap.

"They're not dates," Seonghwa parrots. "We're not together, are we?"

"Let's change that. Date me?"

"I thought you'd never ask.")

Dating Seonghwa is much like being wrapped in a warm blanket. He's caring and sweet and so thoughtful that it makes your head spin. You realize that somewhere along the way, you had lost the joy and wonder that came with life. Luckily for you, each date (whether it's a shared pizza in his apartment or a hike somewhere new) restores an optimism that you didn’t know you missed.

Decades pass, and the two of you are on your daily walk. Your bodies start to show their age, but when you look in the mirror, you still see youth alight in your eyes.

("When we first met, I thought that it was all downhill from there, but I was proven wrong."

"It's been a long time since I've heard you say you were wrong."

"And each time, I tell you to not get used to it.")

When the life slips away from you both, you promise to meet each other in the next life and every one that follows.

The universe, as mysteriously as it may work, hears this request and tucks it away, ready to see it through.

#ateez scenario #ateez imagine #ateez fluff #ateez angst #seonghwa scenario #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #park seonghwa #choi jongho #song mingi #kim hongjoong #seonghwa #jongho #mingi #hongjoong #let this show up in the tags #ari.doc

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franeridart · 6 years ago

Note

what program/brushes do you use for your art? it's so damn pretty

Easy Paint tool SAI and the default pen/brush/marker tools, mostly! and thank you!!! ;^;

Anon said:When I was a kid I would've had a crush on Akane

HECK that’s such a compliment!! Thank you!!! <3<3

Anon said:Couldn't Akane technically Control/move Kiri's hair since it's dyed? I mean it's like his hair is stained meaning it's not alive! so Akane finally warms up to him and messes with him or plays with his hair?

She can and she did! I drew her doing just that both in the first and in the fourth thing I posted about her! :D

Anon said:okay i don't know if this is coming through but i have just looked through your entire blog(can only go 4 years back) and let me just say you are wonderful, I absoluty LOVE how you paint/draw like its sooo pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi i cant describe it, (part 1) || like you are wonderful, I absolutely LOVE how you paint/draw like it's so pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi I can't describe it like it's absolutely Fabulous, Stunning, Amazing, Lovely and it looks so smoooooth like what????how??But anyways love your art and love you keep being Amazing! (part 2)

AH GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! This is such a sweet ask to get TT^TT (and you can only go 4 years back because the blog is 4 years old! Can’t believe you actually went through it all!!)

Anon said:I really love your art style and your comics are so cute and I love how you draw older Bakugou and Kirishima!! It’s all so wonderful! Thank you for sharing it with everyone!

Oh man thank you!! ;;; I’m so happy yo know you like them!!!!!! TTOTT

Anon said:the level of FLUFF and KOOKIENESS and SOFT and MARSHMALLOW and MY HEART CAN'T TOOK THIS IS is so much I could die.

PLEASE DON’T DIE I LOVE YOU !!!!!

Anon said:I love everything about Akane's au. Her, her interactions with Bakugou, how she dislikes Kirishima but is beginning to warm up to him, the boys' aged-up designs. Everything. It's all amazing. Thank you for bringing it into my life!

Nggghhhhhhhh no anon thank you for liking her!!!! <3<3<3

Anon said:Currently procrastinating on my essay to go through your blog because it de-stresses me and I love your art so much like seriously h e l p

GAH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! ///// <3<3

Anon said:There's something I'm not understand in your AU children kiribaku. She adopted by bakugo or she is a kid bakugou have with someone. ( I'm really really sorry for my English )

Adopted!

Anon said:Your comics are so cute and funny! I'm loving the story with Akane, the last update was great! I really like the way you draw the characters, like your style is so nice. Thanks for making my day better with your art!

G o d thank you So Much!!!!!! <3<3

Anon said:Akane is adorable, and I absolutely love the comics that you upload of her, but also on top of that your mohawk Bakugo has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and brought me back from the dead at LEAST twice.

I’M REAL GLAD TO HEAR THAT because mohawk Bakugou owns my whole soul and it’s nice to know I’m not alone in that hahaha

Anon said:What are some ways Akane messes with Kiri (or used to) when he wears red clothes? Does she often do that? Does she do it when Baku's not home, or when he is so that she can hammer in just how much she dislikes Kiri? Has she ever done anything major that caused her to be really reprimanded by Baku, but being the best person in the world Kiri did not get angry?

She really only ever gets pissy (or used to! they’re starting to get along better !!!) at Kiri when she feels jealous for whatever reason, and that doesn’t happen as often as it seems through my doodles, so it’s not like she’s always antagonistic towards him! Mostly she just ignores him, so no, it doesn’t happen often at all! And she’s never gone further than messing his hair up or tugging a bit at his clothes, since she doesn’t have the strength to move Kiri all that much haha the only reason she managed to have him fall the first time was because he was balancing already, but generally Kiri weighs way too much for her to move him around or pull at the red stuff he’s wearing enough for him to notice it all that much

anyway, Baku never reprimended her for it - not more than he did in the first comic I posted with them, at least, specifically because the damage she can make is so minor that Kiri and Baku barely consider it something to tell her off for... if she were ever to act that way towards someone she might actually hurt (say, a kid her own age) then Baku might reprimend her more seriously, but as long as she’s just tugging at Kiri’s clothes they don’t see it as anything worth fighting her over :D

Anon said:Just sent an ask, so forgive me for this one, but I'd love to get this straight: in the Akane AU Kiri and Baku graduated and share an apartment, are madly into each other, but they neither has made a move on the other yet? Perhaps that should be sad, but it's 100% adorable.

I know I shouldn’t say this as I made the au myself, but I find the arrangement pretty dang adorable too haha they act like a married couple anyway, so it’s like... pining while the rest of the world already considers them an item? and the pining is mostly about stuff like ahhhh I wanna tell him I love him or ahhhhhh god I wanna kiss him, but then they’ll fall asleep on the couch together or hold hands just for the hell of it or cook for each other or make plans that always involve each other and all in all act as each other’s partner, so it’s mostly just like *Kaminari voice* “God these oblivious idiots” hahaha

Anon said:That latest Akane comic melted my heart like you often do. Though for a moment, I expected Eijirou to say "I don't want Katsuki to be my dad, I want him to be my daddy" XD Though that would not sound like him. Props for his adorable interactions with Scarlet Death Queen Witch.

Anon you don’t get it that’s exactly why I had him say “be his son” instead of “be my dad” LMAO it was like, a conscious wording decision hahaha thank you so much for liking my girl, btw!!! <3

Anon said:Fran! I was just wondering if you would be willing to post your Demon Kiri and Angel Baku art on Redbubble? I'd love to buy a print of it!! Totally understand if not. Also your newer Akane comics are killing me, they're so damn cute!! So yeah love you and your beautiful art! Hope you have an awesome year!!

I CAN TRY I think I did try last time I updated my rb? But the format of the pic made it hard to use it for a lot of things so I gave up??? I can try again tho!!! Thank you for being interested in buying it!!! And thank you for liking Akane too!!!!! <3

Anon said:is katsuki and kirishima not together in the adopted child comics or is there gonna be a plot to them getting together? 👀

I’m not really writing anything cohesive for it so I wouldn’t call it a plot point, but yeh they still aren’t together! And I wanna have them get to the point in which they are together!!! :D

Anon said:I'm gonna die why do you do this with your adorable art my god

PLEASE!!!!! DON’T DIE!!!!!!!!!!! <3<3<3

Anon said:Your Akane + KiriBaku comics are adorable and I love the relationships that exist between them. I can't wait to see more of them!

Thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!! I hope I won’t disappoint!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I love your art so much!! Especially the little Akane au (so freaking cute!!!!). Random question: if you’ve ever seen Lucifer, who do you think would fit his character? Have an awesome day!

I haven’t seen it, sorry :((( but thank you for liking my girl!!!!!! <3

Anon said:I apologize if this has already been thought of but i feel as though when akane gets older and if she decides to be a hero, part of her costume could include useful red objects mayhaps?? Such as a shield or daggers or handcuffs so if there’s a lack of red around her she isn’t in a complete ditch. But i love your work sm ahhh💕💕

Yes!!! That’s the plan!!!!! I don’t think I’ll ever draw a teen version of her character but I MIGHT mention this idea in the current timeline, I like the idea so much TT^TT

Anon said:Hey there, I am absolutely obsessed with Akane like I love her so much wow but anyways I was wondering if you've ever drawn tododeku/ will in the future?

Thank you!!!! And I have drawn them in the past (under my tododeku tag!) and I might draw them again in the future, though currently I’m in a pretty big izu//ocha mood so I dunno when that will happen!

Anon said:I love your art so much like??? Help???

THANK YOU TTATT

Anon said:Y'know it could be gayer c'mon

This ask has been in my inbox for 17 days and I still don’t know what it means ??? but I laughed a lot when I got it so thank you anon and yes, definitely, everything could always be gayer that’s just how the world goes

Anon said:I swear you drew an older version of the krbk kids and it wasn't a fever dream I'm currently frantically searching through your blog rn help

I DID that post is CURSED anon, you can look it up through any of the tags I used to tag it and it won’t show up it won’t and I don’t know why!! I always lose it exactly because of this reason I have zero idea why it does this but??? okay I guess???????????

anyway if you still want it it’s here <3 I should get back on that Tai design I really loved it.....

Anon said:If Akane can control red things, does she low-key also have control over things that are pink and orange depending on how reddish in hue they are? I love her btw. Such a smol bean who could probably kick my ass!

What a good question you got there!! She has control over everything that has a color that falls in the red wavelength of the visible spectrum - that does include certain tones of pink and certain tones of orange, but there’s a point where orange gets too yellow or pink gets too white that her powers stop working. As long as the red in the color is more than any other hue, though, her powers work!

Anon said: im just imagining if baku takes akane with him when he is going to work and is there with kiri and akane help kiri with his hair bc she is suffering when he tries to style it himself

Once they start getting along better Akane and Kiri actually start helping each other with their hair! They’re both very particular about it so they understand each other as far as that topic goes haha

Anon said:Hi I just wanted to say I’m really enjoying what you are doing in your latest drawing. The contrast with the thick sketchy lines and the thinner crisp ones and the spaces that have no defined line! It’s cool to see you experiment with your line work while staying true to your natural style! Sorry if this came off weird but I love seeing talented artists try pushing the boundaries of their style it’s really visually/conceptually interesting! :)

AH MAN thank you so much I’m so happy to know you like that tool TT^TT it’s really super comfy to use, so it’s nice to know someone finds it visually appealing too!!! thank you!!!!! <3<3

Anon said:Is there any chance you could make a masterpost of the aus you do? It's a lot to scroll down to the beginning of a concept u have sometimes and it can be unclear when they start

They all have a tag they’re under, tho? If I’ve made more than one post about them! I have so many AUs going around that making a masterpost with all of them is a bit... mostly so since I don’t know for how many I’ll actually go back on! But if the tags don’t really work for you (generally the link is gonna look like https://franeridart.tumblr.com/tagged/[here goes the tag]/chrono to have it in chronological order) then I can try? I can’t promise I’ll find a comfortable way to do this, tho orz sorry!

Anon said:This might be an odd ask but does Akane like Jirou? I feel like they would get along really well. And how about her grandma Mitsuki? Since she takes after Katsu who takes after her, they could make an adorably angry trio

She hasn’t spent much time with Jirou yet so right now she’s mostly meh about her (though right now she only actually likes Bakugou, and she’s warming up to Kiri, but that’s about it). She doesn’t mind Mitsuki, but she hasn’t spent too long with her either! She yells a bit too much at her dad tho, which Akane isn’t particularly fond of (protective bean that she is, she doesn’t get that that’s just their way of communicating just yet), so out of her grandparents she prefers Masaru, after all~

#fran answers #a bunch of asks i had forgotten about after closing the inbox!!!#jesus im a disaster #i was sure i had a couple asks more in here but i can't find them so...???#ah well #either way i'm sorry these took so long my brain is seriously all over the place lately #go d s #anonymous

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