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just-a-geeky-therapist · 1 year

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Wolianger 2023 Day 4: 7 Moments in Heaven

Urianger could feel the warmth of sunlight slowly creeping along his skin, a variety of wildlife orchestrating a symphony that softly pulled him from sleep. Where sun warmed the skin, absence of entangled legs left a frigid void, jolting him awake as he realized he laid alone in the room, having slept far past the time previously agreed upon for assisting Tataru’s new business venture. With a quickness limited by his Elezen frame, he got to his feet and began pulling on his robes and assortment of jewelry, then took a moment to tap his linkpearl and dial Brychar directly.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Brychar answered, slightly aggravating the scholar at the chipper tone.

“Thou had not the decency to waken me from mine slumber before departing?” Urianger half asked and scolded. “Tataru is most prudent in her business endeavors and shant take kindly to one of us being carelessly tardy to the task she invoked us for,” he finished.

“Had you woken to her call earlier, you’d know the shipment of supplies was delayed by a day,” Brychar explained. “I am out gathering us a light morning snack and shall return momentarily,” he said, chuckling at the end.

“Delayed?” Urianger considered. “Surely there must be tasks which necessitate our attention,” he surmised.

“Not unless you foolishly invoke the locals for work,” Brychar said. “Rest easy, I’ll be back with food,” he said before dialing off the linkpearl.

An entire day without obligations, Urianger thought to himself as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. Since he and Brychar had agreed upon assisting Tataru in her business adventures there had been little time for rest. For one so new to the world of business, she was quickly showing her skills on par with even the best of the Ul’Dahn monetarists.

For a while Urianger putzed about the room, digging through the light sack he’d carried with him and setting his sights on one of the tomes he’d brought for such downtimes. Since having returned from the First, he’d taken an interest in learning more about the transference of souls, memories, and one’s consciousness through a variety of substances, hoping someday to establish a safe and efficient route for necessary travel between realms. The ease with which the Ascian’s flitted in and out of seeming existence had always proven a valuable advantage, one which he would eventually see given to more admirable persons. This particular book was one which he was surely not meant to be in possession of, one which he’d happened across after scouring the Great Gubal Library several times over.

Urianger had quickly succumbed to an in-depth reading of the pages before him, distracting him from the sound of footsteps which eventually gave way to the door opening. He looked up to make eye-contact with Brychar who was comically struggling to juggle a variety of dishes he’d clearly acquired from the local market. Rather than ogling him, Urianger stood and assisted the Au Ra in placing the variety of dishes on the bed, careful to avoid making any mess.

“When thou said a snack, ‘twas something much less substantial which I expected,” Urianger said, eyeing the ridiculous amount of food before him.

“And I became indecisive and figured this would last us through the day,” Brychar explained.

“Verily,” Urianger said as his stomach ironically grumbled in protest of hunger, garnering a laugh from both men.

“Please, dig in,” Brychar quipped before moving several dishes to make a marginal amount of room for either of them to sit down.

Brychar handed Urianger an empty platter to begin selecting a myriad of samples from each dish. There was a variety of fish, some which had been smoked, some cooked fresh over the fire, some which was as fresh as one could expect being so near the sea coast. There were also several dishes that centered on local flora, plantains which had been fried with sugar and spices, some kind of citrus which was embedded in a flaky crust and sprinkled with powdered sugar.

“‘Tis quite the spread thou hath procured, I thank thee,” Urianger said, expressing his gratitude.

“Are you talking about the food or me?” Brychar jested, causing Urianger to choke on the bite of tart he’d taken.

“Thou art most devious,” Urianger said as tears welled in his eyes. The redness of his cheeks could have been blamed on his coughing fit, but the heat filling his ears spoke truthfully.

“Surely you cannot expect good behavior from me all the time,” Brychar responded with his mouth full. “Would good behavior have led us to such remarkable discoveries only hours ago?” he quipped.

Urianger continued to grow red, struggling to find words to rebuke the crassness of his comrade. “Per… perhaps not,” Urianger confessed, choosing to cut short any other reply.

“I am surprised to see that your confidence last night has now failed you this morning,” Brychar continued to tease. “Is it regret?” he asked with slight insecurity. “Or is it the lack of cover that moonlight provided?”

“‘Tis not regret, I assure thee,” Urianger said without thought. “‘Twas… ‘tis… I… never hadst anyone touched me in such lascivious fashion,” he confessed, noting the sudden change in Brychar’s demeanor.

“You mean, you’ve never been with another?” Brychar attempted to clarify.

“Aye,” Urianger said while covering his face.

“Oh Uri, why didn’t you say anything last night,” Brychar said, showing his regret. “Had I known…”

“Thou misunderstand, ‘tis not regret that I am plagued, ‘tis the newness and uncertainty with which I find mine sentiments tangled,” Urianger corrected, wanting to ease Brychar’s suspicion of wrongdoing. “There art none more desired to share mine revelations than thee,” he finally said.

It was finally Brychar’s turn to blush as the sentiment behind Urianger’s words set in. While he had longed for the scholar since their initial meeting, he had still grown accustomed to quick fixations from people who pined for the warrior of light and were more inclined to check him off their bucket list. However, to have been regarded with such merit by one as respectable as Urianger truly made for a different experience.

“I am touched by your words,” Brychar said.

“‘Tis but the truth,” Urianger said, taking a bite of some dried fish to avoid spilling any more sentiments than he had.

“Thank you,” Brychar said, mimicking Urianger as he too began focusing on the food before him.

They both sat in a slightly awkward silence as they enjoyed the variety of foods to choose from before they were both satiated. Together they wrapped up the remainder of the food and stored it in the makeshift ice chest Brychar had concocted; a simple set of ice crystals in a wooden chest proved quite effective at keeping food.

“Doest thou have an agenda for thy day?” Urianger asked once the last of the food was put away.

“I can think of a few things I’d like to do,” Brychar said, pointedly eyeing up the scholar. “However, perhaps I could invoke thee to investigate what the local landscape has to offer first,” he said, opening the window shutters to show the beautiful weather that awaited them.

“Ver… very well,” Urianger said, ears once again red. “Hast thou a destination in mind?”

“I say wherever the wind takes us,” Brychar said, indicating no plan aside from an adventure.

“Let us be about then,” Urianger said, replacing the tome in his pack. “Wouldst thou allow me time to obtain a few articles from mine room?” he asked.

“Sure, we can set off from there,” Brychar said, opening the door for Urianger, stepping out himself and locking it before making the short walk to where the scholar was meant to sleep.

While the walk was short, the morning air had already grown hot, causing both men to begin to glisten in the unfettered sun. They both had to duck their heads as they entered the inn on the opposite side of the town, making their way to the last room on the left where Urianger produced a key and quickly accessed his room.

“Please, have a seat,” he indicated towards the single chair in front of a table piled with a variety of books.

“By the twelve, Uri… surely you don’t expect to have enough time to get through all of these,” Brychar said as he took a seat.

“Non, hardly to suffice mine interest, though plenty for specified topics of research,” Urianger confirmed, placing his morning read atop the table as he picked up a vial of liquid which he dabbed along his neck and wrists.

“Is that perfume?” Brychar teased.

“Laugh to thy fit,” Urianger said. “‘Tis miserably hot and I refuse to grow accustomed to the smell which plagues most locals.”

Brychar absently gave himself a sniff, wrinkling his nose at realizing he was not as fresh smelling as perhaps would be ideal. “Perhaps I too should look into such niceties,” he said.

Urianger surprised Brychar by tossing the vial to him, “here, ‘tis plenty to share,” he said as he gathered up a myriad of vials and balms into his travel pack.

“Why, Mr. Augurelt, first you’d have me smell like you… what’s next? Begin to speak like you?” Brychar teased as he copied what the scholar had done with the perfume.

“Eloquence and etiquette are arguably in short supply in contemporaneous conversations, but nay, ‘tis nothing which I would change about thee, though perhaps ceasing thy unsavory habit of cruel jests would be agreeable,” Urianger said.

“Do you truly mean that?” Brychar challenged.

“Per… perhaps not,” Urianger blushed.

“As I thought, are there any amongst the scions who are not gluttons for punishment?” Brychar asked.

“Nay,” Urianger said plainly.

“Speaking of punishment, are you ready for a day in the sun? We have plenty of provisions to spend the entirety of it exploring the southern coast.”

“Aye, let us be off,” Urianger confirmed, tying his pack.

“Good!” Brychar said, jumping to his feet and leaving the room. Urianger followed and barely had time to lock the door before Brychar grabbed his hand and forced the scholar into a healthy jog as they left the inn, quickly leaving the town behind them as they set about their adventure.

#ffxiv #au ra oc #elezen #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv original character #m/m ship #requited feelings #urianger augurelt #urianger x wol #wolianger #romantic #romance #breakfast #adventure #wolianger week 2023 #au ra wol

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cullxtheherd · 2 years

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***

ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ: 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙙 ‘ ✱ ‘ 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙦𝙪𝙚, 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮, 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙧, 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙗𝙞𝙩𝙨. 𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣’𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙮𝙢𝙗𝙤𝙡, 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙙 ‘ 𝙐𝙣𝙞𝙦𝙪𝙚 ’.

hi!! askjnfdg since u sent me three i’ll just ?? three answers gO!!!

he may not be a monster in the mythical sense but he is definitely a monstrous muse so let’s get started with this flavor of Bastard, shall we? this version that i write/portray on here and in drabbles/fics/etc is super DUPER traumatized from multiple events and sleep is evasive for him for a multitude of reasons. generally speaking he suffers from night terrors and delusions/hallucinations regularly. what does this mean for a sleeping partner?

being woken at any and all hours with shouting/more and (often) violence/weapons as a product of whatever dream or hallucination he is having. this likely entails:

physical harm - this is potentially a big, very real problem. he is largely unmedicated/untreated aside from semi-regular breathing treatments (he suffers from gulf war syndrome & u can ask me about it anytime) and individuals suffering from the host of mental ailments that he is can certainly be a danger to others at the worst times and be unaware of what they are doing - this is not the normal for everyone, but it is for the crispiest, lasagna-est man i have ever penned

being drawn into a dream/hallucination even if they try to avoid doing so. In my personal experience living with someone who suffered from night terrors/more it is like?? they are aware of certain things (person/s present) but not specifics (name, location, etc); it’s a little hard to explain unless you’ve seen it, to be honest?? but you can look in their eyes and see that they are registering/processing but completely just not there at the moment. this may not be the perfect phrasing for this but i can’t brain correctly enough to make words any other structure rn

mental and/or verbal abuse - he may not realize who you actually are. he may be seeing one or both of his abusers instead. he will NOT remember doing any of this to you later. It IS foolish to expect a reply. It may also be foolish to ask for one depending on what kind of Man he has decided to be for the following day. he is really a stinky bastard man - horrible pepe sasquatch person

I’m not saying that there aren’t normal, quiet nights cozying up by the fire barrel, but? More often than not you are likely to be dodging him. In a world where he’s medicated?? who knows. halelu to the magical AU system!! !

he is cold. i mean FREEZING cold. invest in an electric blanket and some hot water bottles for the bedroom because central heating and a fireplace aren’t going to help when you’re cuddled up to a literal block of 🧊 ice 🧊. surely it can be fun in certain boudoir situations™, but i’d wager that it can be pretty frustrating at times, too!

I feel like this is a pretty obvious thing?? but i don’t really see people ever mentioning this in fics/etc?? so i guess i am (presumably) ALONE in my headcanon for him, but?? ghouls tend to put off a little bit of radiation at, pretty much, all times, right? SO? pack up a few radaway & rad-x if you’re spending a few nights at John’s place in Good Neighbor - without the radiation resistance perk for a smoothskin like you, Coming Prepared™ is probably a good idea 😉

#hi hello im to die now bye

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belayadeath-goner · 2 years

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tag dump.

character.

THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT. ˛ imagery.

WOMAN DRENCHED IN BLOOD. ˛ aesthetic.

YOU ARE JUST A GHOST WITH A BEATING HEART. ˛ meta.

universes.

MONSTERS IN YOUR HEAD. MONSTERS IN YOUR HEART. ˛ mainverse.

THE NEVER - ENDING WINTER. ˛ au.

COLD STARS ARE BURNING MY SKIN FOR THE SINS I DID. ˛ au.

A FIRE SHALL BE WOKEN. ˛ au.

BORN OF BLOOD AND WINTER. ˛ au.

NO ALWAYS WITHOUT FOREVER. ˛ au.

YOU HAVE EVERYTHING AND NOTHING TO PROVE. ˛ closed au.

SOMETIMES IT SEEMS LIKE WE WON’T SURVIVE THIS DANCE. ˛ closed au.

dynamics.

DYN. YOU WERE ALWAYS MY FATE. ˛ victor potts.

DYN. tbd. ˛ tyler ruzek.

DYN. YOU CAN’T RUN FROM THE SHADOW. ˛ dimitri volkov.

DYN. GOOD AT GIVING TOO MUCH˛ THEN GETTING SCARED. ˛ javy machado.

DYN. WE WALK IN STARLIGHT IN ANOTHER WORLD. ˛ annie january.

DYN. YOU DON’T SCARE ME. ˛ robb stark.

DYN. WE’RE JUST A COUPLE OF LOST SOLDIERS WITHOUT A HOME. ˛ leon marshall.

DYN. YOU’VE ALWAYS CRAVED A LOVE THAT COULD DROWN OCEANS. ˛ ships.

ooc.

LOOKING HALF A CORPSE AND HALF A GOD. ˛ ooc.

YOU ARE NOT WHAT THEY MADE YOU. ˛ promotions.

HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED FEAR IN THE EYES. ˛ memes.

WOMAN WHO CHEATED DEATH. ˛ queue.

WEAPONS DON’T WEEP. ˛ edits.

#THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT. ˛ imagery.#WOMAN DRENCHED IN BLOOD. ˛ aesthetic.#YOU ARE JUST A GHOST WITH A BEATING HEART. ˛ meta.#MONSTERS IN YOUR HEAD. MONSTERS IN YOUR HEART. ˛ mainverse.#THE NEVER - ENDING WINTER. ˛ au.#COLD STARS ARE BURNING MY SKIN FOR THE SINS I DID. ˛ au.#A FIRE SHALL BE WOKEN. ˛ au.#BORN OF BLOOD AND WINTER. ˛ au.#LOOKING HALF A CORPSE AND HALF A GOD. ˛ ooc.#YOU ARE NOT WHAT THEY MADE YOU. ˛ promotions.#DYN. YOU WERE ALWAYS MY FATE. ˛ victor potts.#DYN. GOOD AT GIVING TOO MUCH˛ THEN GETTING SCARED. ˛ javy machado.#DYN. YOU CAN’T RUN FROM THE SHADOW. ˛ dimitri volkov.#HAVE YOU EVER LOOKED FEAR IN THE EYES. ˛ memes.#WOMAN WHO CHEATED DEATH. ˛ queue.#WEAPONS DON’T WEEP. ˛ edits.#DYN. WE WALK IN STARLIGHT IN ANOTHER WORLD. ˛ annie january.#DYN. YOU’VE ALWAYS CRAVED A LOVE THAT COULD DROWN OCEANS. ˛ ships.#DYN. YOU DON’T SCARE ME. ˛ robb stark.#DYN. WE’RE JUST A COUPLE OF LOST SOLDIERS WITHOUT A HOME. ˛ leon marshall.#NO ALWAYS WITHOUT FOREVER. ˛ au.#YOU HAVE EVERYTHING AND NOTHING TO PROVE. ˛ closed au.#SOMETIMES IT SEEMS LIKE WE WON’T SURVIVE THIS DANCE. ˛ closed au.

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miss-smutty · 3 years

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The Destructive Secret

Chapter 6

Summary- Has Karma finally caught up to you?

Word count- 2.1K

Pairing- Chris Hems x You x Liam Hems

Warnings- Smut, cheating, swearing

18+only

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 21st July 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings

The Destructive Secret Masterlist <<<

He turns on his side, looking at you, his leg wrapping around yours. Holding you close, afraid to let you go.

"I want to be able to take you out and show you off, instead of hiding away in hotels rooms. I want everyone to know you're mine, not Liam's."

You struggled to sleep that night, tossing and turning while Chris slept like a baby next to you. You couldn't stop thinking about the many possible outcomes of your secret being out in the open, while you knew it was going to have to happen sooner rather than later, there would be no way you could avoid the utter turmoil that would follow. You couldn't think of one possible outcome that wouldn't cause complete destruction for everyone involved which understandably left you feeling completely anxious.

Your phone buzzing on the bedside table, roused you from the light sleep you'd finally managed to fall into. Tiredness washed over you like a thick lead, your eyes heavy and blurred as you blinked at the screen of the phone and realised you hadn't called Liam like you said you would.

You answered the phone quiety, getting up to go into the bathroom, your usual tactic of running the water while you spoke but this time hiding your voice from Chris not Liam.

"Hi babe." You whispered. Stepping over the piles of clothes scattered across the room, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Chris was still sleeping.

"Why are you whispering?" Fuck.

"Sorry I've just woken up." You said in your normal tone, whincing at how loud your voice sounded in the peaceful room. Cringing even more when Chris woke from his sleep, his eyes opening, sitting up and spotting you across the room. Realisation flashed before his eyes as you put your fingers to your lips, gesturing for him to be quiet, cursing yourself for not making it to the bathroom in time.

"Sorry, you're usually awake at this time. I just phoned to make sure you were ok, you didn't call last night." Liam says.

"I know sorry, I was shattered and fell asleep more or less as soon as I laid down. I didn't sleep well though. How are you?" You turned your back on Chris, not being able to stand the faces he was pulling.

"Aww you never sleep well in hotels do you? I remember that trip to New York, we didn't sleep all night."

"Yeah I remember although that was for different reasons." You could hear Chris stirring behind you, getting out of bed.

"That's true, we need a trip like that again soon, where we spend the whole weekend in bed." He laughed, you rolled your eyes at the irony, little did he know that's exactly what you were doing at that moment in time. Chris confirming it when he slid up behind you, his naked warmth pressing against you, the heat of his morning glory resting against the swell of your ass.

"Yes we do, anyway I'm going to have to go I'm going to be late for this conference." You could hardly concentrate as Chris began planting feathery kisses all across your shoulders.

"Ok babe, I'll speak to you after. Love you." Liam says.

"Love you too." Chris pulled a disgusted face at you, his expression contorting his handsome face, before taking your phone from your hand, ending the call and discarding it on to the bed.

"Who do you love?" Chris asked needily, his breath heavy in your ear while he pushed your knees apart so his hand could slip in between, stroking your wetness with the pads of his fingers.

"You." You sigh as his thumb meets your clit, circling slowly.

"Good girl. Now back to bed, i intend to make the most of our last full day together for a while." He slaps your ass as you move to the bed, squeeling as you fall down on to it.

He falls down next to you, making you squeel again when the bed bounces you up and then his hands are all over you. Gripping and squeezing all your curves while his lips attach to your fever hot skin.

You lift yourself onto him, straddling him, your wetness soaking his thighs.

"Sit on my face." He says excitedly, his face lighting up at the prospect.

You move to hover over his face, while his tongue reaches out to lick smoothly up your folds, flicking against your clit and making you moan with pleasure.

"When I said sit on my face I meant literally clasp your thighs around my head and smother me with that perfect fucking pussy."

You whine at his words, grinding yourself against the roughness of his beard. Leaning forward to hold the headboard as Chris's tongue dips into your opening, swirling around, his nose adding friction to your swollen clit. He groans against you, the vibration sending you to the edge as you lean back, your hands resting on Chris's hips, your thighs clasped tightly around his face. From this position you can see him perfectly, his expression locked with lust as he eats your pussy so good. Your legs shake as the gripping rises through you, tingles throughout your body as you come so hard on his tongue.

A hum of approval from Chris as he laps up your juices, smiling triumphantly while you pant, biting your bottom lip, your legs still trembling. You roll over next to Chris, cramp seizing up your muscles due to the intensity of your orgasm.

"Fuck Chris, you're too good at that." You pant, laying on your back in the middle of the bed, Chris lying beside you his hand gently tickling your arm.

"Fucking too right, I'd eat your pussy every day if I could."

"Well if that isn't a reason to tell Liam, I don't know what is." You laugh, turning to face Chris. Hunger still flaring in his eyes.

"You're so fucking beautiful." He says while squeezing your thigh. "Shower? I've got unfinished business to attend to." Tipping his head towards his straining erection.

You'd barely made it to the shower before he's already bending you over, muttering in your ear about how hot you are. One hand cupping the nape of your neck, the other gripping onto your hips as he shoves his dick deep inside your tight walls.

Your hands slipping down the wall of the slick shower, trying to find something to cling on to while he relentlessly pounds into you from behind. His thighs slapping against your ass, the sound of skin connecting echoing around the tiled room.

Watching his cock dipping in and out of your greedy cunt, mesmerizes him, his thumbs digging into your cheeks as he pulls them apart for a better view.

He groans when you tighten around him, your muscles gripping against him as the sensations travel through your body like fire. Your head dizzy, full of only pleasure as you gush around him. His hand smooths up your back, tangling around your hair as his thrusts get sloppy, smashing against you with a grunt. Satisfaction washing over you both as he finishes with one last thrust.

"You're a machine. Fuck.". You pant, resting against the cold tiles.

"I aim to please." He stands under the water, washing himself. You're hypnotised watching the water drip down his body, drops resting on the ridges of his toned stomach.

He looks down at you, his hands smoothing through his wet hair, his mouth slightly open as the water runs off of his face. Proud of the way your legs are still like jelly, that just fucked look still painting your face.

"Shall I order room service? I've definitely worked up a appetite after that."

"I'm gunna wash my hair and then I'll join you. Order some pancakes." You slapped Chris on his taunt ass as he stepped out the shower, winking at him as he turned around with a faked shocked face before leaning in to kiss you.

"Anything for you."

You took your time washing your hair, enjoying the bliss of silent thoughts. Finally lost in the moment and enjoying your time with Chris without having to think about all the other things. This is how it should be all the time, easy, nothing to worry about, this is how you wish it would be.

You wrapped a towel around you, the steam in the room making you lightheaded. Holding on to the sink to steady yourself, you caught your reflection in the mirror. You studied your face, noticing how the stress had started to age you, little lines by your eyes that weren't there before.

The thought played in your mind as you left the bedroom, freezing in shock when you realised you weren't alone.

Talk about bad timing, you'd walked out of the bathroom at the same time room service was delivered. The tall, dark hotel worker still stood in the doorway as Chris closed the door behind him. You saw his eyes light up when he saw you, recognition flash through his eyes when he saw your shocked expression. He knew exactly who you were and exactly what you were doing here, half naked in Chris's room. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Chris, what the fuck? You could've warned me not to come out."

"I shouted through to you, did you not hear? Relax, he won't say anything. It's company policy."

"Fuck. Do you think he cares about fucking company policy with the measly rate of pay he gets?" You start to panic, of all the things to go wrong this was probably the worst. You couldn't help thinking it was karma getting its own back, finally catching up to you.

"We'll be fine, he probably didn't even recognise you." Chris was calm, nonchalant as usual.

"He definitely did, didn't you see the look on his face?" You saw the look in his eye and knew what it meant.

"You're paranoid. Relax, we're fine." He pulls you into his arms, his hands travelling up your towel. "Do we need this?" He pulls away your towel with a frown.

"Chris how are you so calm?" You stand up, pacing the floor in front of him.

"Damn, you look sexy as fuck when you're angry." He sits back on the bed, admiring you as you glare at him then holding his hands up in defeat. "Ok, ok but would it be so bad if we were found out?"

"Yes. Yeah it fucking would. I don't want Liam finding out like that and why would you?"

"I'm at the point where I don't care how he finds out as long as he does, I just want this everyday. You. I can't stand giving you up again after this weekend and having to wait weeks to have you back."

"Yeah I know but not like this Chris. You need to go track him down and give him some money or something. Please." You plead, tears prickling your eyes.

"Fine, told you I'd do anything for you and I meant it but can we eat first?" He raised his eyebrow, patting the bed next to him.

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

"Hi it's Mr Hemsworth in the penthouse suite, is it possible for you to send the guy who just delivered our... I mean, my room service, back up to my room please." Chris said, on the phone to front desk.

"Of course, is everything ok with your food Sir?"

"Yes fine, I just forgot to tip him." He rolled his eyes at you.

"No problem, I'll send him up for you now Sir." She laughed.

"She's sending him up." Chris said to you, putting down the phone and sighing.

"Shall I hide?" You ask, unsure what to do in this situation.

"Well yeah, he might not've seen you in the first place."

"He did." You say over your shoulder, already making your way to the bathroom.

You stand by the door, it open a little so you can hear them talking. Your heart beating fast as you waited patiently, leaning against the wall with your ear to the crack in the door when you hear a knock and Chris's heavy footsteps going to answer it.

"Hi, I forgot to tip you earlier. Let me just get it for you, come in." Chris says.

"Oh it's fine Sir, you don't have to tip me."

You peeked your eyes through the crack in the door, spying the guy stood awkwardly by the door while Chris went through his wallet.

"I hope you will respect my privacy and I can rely on your discretion?" Chris said while handing the guy a huge wad of cash, looking like he was making some kind of dodgy deal.

"I'm not sure what you mean Sir but thank you."

"I think you do." Chris glared at him, his face expressionless making the guy uncomfortable, looking at his feet.

The guy turned to leave before looking back over his shoulder at the door, his hand on the door handle.

"If it makes any difference I would choose you over your brother any day." He winked as he left the room.

#smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #liam hemsworth #chris hemsworth imagine

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writingwife-83 · 3 years

Note

#31 for Sherlolly, please: "You two are the closest thing I have to a television."

It was only today that an idea finally hit me for this prompt that I felt like actually worked lol! Time Travel AU to the rescue! 😆

The Closest Thing to a Television

“And what exactly would you suggest?” Sherlock demanded loudly, his dressing gown billowing out a bit as he spun. “I see precious few options, given this peculiar scenario!”

“Perhaps an option that takes propriety into consideration!” John roared in return. “I realize you care precious little for such things, but for God’s sake man! Surely we can come up with something else.”

“She must stay here, Watson!” Sherlock insisted again. “I’ve only just begun to look into these strange matters, but the little I know tells me that the consequences could be more than dire should she encounter anyone else, and particularly if she were to share the truth of who she is and where she comes from!”

“But what of the consequences for her reputation?!”

Molly cleared her throat, causing the two men to glance at where she sat by the fire in 221B, quietly watching their exchange. She could barely contain her amusement any longer.

John clenched his fists at his side, drawing a breath. “Forgive me, madam, we forget ourselves. We will try to better compose ourselves in the presence of a lady.”

“Oh no, that’s not the problem. I almost wanted to just keep listening!” She sputtered out a little laugh. “After all, you two are the closest thing I have to a television.”

“A what?” both men questioned in confused unison.

Molly had to hold back more laughter, standing and shaking her head. “Never mind. But anyway, while I find your exchange more than a little entertaining, what I actually wanted to remind you of is that my opinion should be taken into consideration here.”

She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised, having landed in the late 1800s.

She still wasn’t really sure what had happened. All she knew was that she was deeply embroiled in researching the science and medical practices in the Victorian era, surrounded by pictures and documents and articles…and then she must have fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, she had awoken in a back alley where her lovely flat should have been, based on the street signs. Unable to wake herself up and unsure if she was dreaming or not, Molly realized she was going to have to find help. Discreetly making her way to Baker Street seemed to be the best option at that point, and thankfully Sherlock was home. Granted, he had absolutely no idea who she was and was more than shocked at her tale, but he was willing to help all the same. He summoned John Watson not long after her arrival, seeming to need his best friend’s counsel in this confusing situation.

“I wholeheartedly agree, Miss Hooper!” John exclaimed. “And do you not feel that we should find far more appropriate lodgings for you?”

Molly shrugged. “Actually, I don’t mind staying here.”

John’s eyes widened.

“This flat is one of the only familiar places to me right now,” she explained. “This London is…well, it’s like a different world compared to the London I’m from. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to stay in a strange place, on my own.”

“You see, Watson?” Sherlock said, his tone somewhat superior as he paced the sitting room, reminding Molly that this was indeed still the man she knew. “This is the only truly logical option. And now that is decided, it should be left to you to procure an appropriate wardrobe for Miss Hooper, should we have an unexpected guest or necessity demands that she briefly leave the flat. I imagine that Mrs. Watson would be happy to help.”

Molly gasped aloud. “Mary! Oh I would absolutely love to see Mary!”

John smiled, though he still seemed rather unsure about the whole situation. “I suppose I will return home and speak to my wife about this matter, in hopes that she has something suitable to loan you, and then we shall return here directly. In the meantime, I suggest you remain unseen, Miss Hooper.”

“Don’t worry,” Molly agreed, clutching her cardigan tighter around her middle. “I’m very happy to hide here until I can get back to my own London.”

With a final look of hesitation, John left the flat and hurried down the stairs. Molly turned and smiled shyly at Sherlock, who was regarding her with some interest as he carefully lit his pipe and took a seat.

“So…you smoke here as well, eh?” she asked rhetorically.

“No, no, Miss Hooper,” Sherlock replied with a little wave of his hand. “You mustn’t breathe a word of my counterpart. I am not yet aware of the way your presence in our time may affect all of us. The least precaution we may take is to maintain some of our previous ignorance before your arrival.”

“I understand,” Molly agreed, taking a seat across from him by the fire. “I’ll try not to talk about the London that I’m from too much. It’s just that- it’s so strange to be here with you like this. I know you…and yet I don’t.”

“Well perhaps, Miss Hooper, in the time that you remain here, we may come to know each other a bit better,” he said, his voice so low and smooth, in a comfortingly familiar way.

Molly felt more at home in that moment than she had since that frightening moment she’d woken up in this time. There was something just slightly different about this version of the man she loved, and it was all too appealing to stay in his company. She gave him a warm smile.

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” she agreed, rather enjoying addressing him in that way. “I would like that very much.”

#sherlolly #dialogue prompt #victorian au #time travel au

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asktenny · 3 years

Text

I posted 6.446 times in 2021

7 posts created (0%)

6439 posts reblogged (100%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 919.9 posts.

I added 7.289 tags in 2021

#karl roleplays - 4948 posts

#jj roleplays - 613 posts

#helena roleplays - 392 posts

#nikita roleplays - 368 posts

#augustine roleplays - 325 posts

#maddie roleplays - 221 posts

#frank roleplays - 194 posts

#cassie roleplays - 121 posts

#tennyinteracts - 57 posts

#laurent roleplays - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#had klaus not felt so deeply about him they simply wouldn't have let him out again because the connection to the normal world would've been

My Top Posts in 2021

Es begibt sich, dass man mich aus meiner Totenruhe geweckt hat und nun zwingt mich auf dieser Plattform für Fragen bereitzustellen. Anscheinend findet sich auch ein gewisser Kaleun hier? Das werde ich mir wohl anschauen müssen....

(It appears that I have been woken from my peace in death and am now forced to open myself for questions on this platform. Apparently a certain Kaleun is to be found here too? I shall investigate that...)

4 notes • Posted 2021-02-26 11:51:08 GMT

Thank you @missholson for 'tagging' me!

Last song: 'I don't want to set the world on fire' by 'The Inks Spots', I found it in Sam's record collection.

Last movie: Wochenschau, but that was almost a year ago.

Currently reading: 'The Hobbit', not sure what to think of it, fantastical books aren't usually my genre and I've had to consult a dictionary several times.

Currently watching: Karla chewing on something, I should probably check it's nothing dangerous.

Currently craving: Some cake perhaps, and visiting an art gallery.

I shall 'tag' anyone who'd like to participate! (perhaps @askhoffy, @miss-indigodaisies, @somewhere-at-sea, @suchamiracle-does-exist ?)

5 notes • Posted 2021-06-10 12:11:38 GMT

... am I hallucinating again?

- AskHoffy

Nein, dass tun Sie durchaus nicht.

(No, you certainly are not.)

5 notes • Posted 2021-02-26 17:54:31 GMT

Tag game

Name 7 comfort movies and tag 7 people.

@miss-indigodaisies Thank you for 'tagging' me, I hope I am doing this correctly!

Sadly I haven't seen many movies, I never was one to go much to the pictures, so I have collected my favourite, 'comfort' so to speak, pieces of literature and plays:

1. The Great Gatsby (1925), although American quite an interesting read, I must say

2. The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890), at times it is hard to read, but I find myself returning to it nevertheless, the story is intriguing

3. Faust (1808), a classic

4. Antigone (442 B.C.), a tragedy that simply 'hits right' as the youths would say

5. Twelfth Night (1602), I was dragged into that play (not much of a Shakespeare fan) but found it surprisingly good

6. Die Verwandlung (1915), there is something about Kafka's writing I am very drawn to

7. Carmen (1875), one of the few operas I do enjoy

Sadly I am not aquainted with many people here, so I shall 'tag' everyone who would like to participate!

6 notes • Posted 2021-04-26 12:11:04 GMT

Was 'tagged' by the dear @missholson and asked to list '9 people I have 'crushes' on/find attractive', so here it is:

See the full post

20 notes • Posted 2021-07-01 19:49:28 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#karl: what's this? I don't understand #karl: the dumb app keeps telling me to do this!#karl interacts

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 4 years

Text

Hey i made the thing!

Bouncey’s Note: this is not vampire!Jaskier canon, but it is a rather interesting and very cool headcanon written by @mynameisdoofthelizardandamspooky for that universe.

I will be updating this au again pretty soon (along with Secrets of Midnight) so thank y’all for being so patient. I like to rotate through my aus and this one is particular favorite.

Thank you for the submission and the fun ideas!! Hope everyone enjoys and sends a little love their way, too!

---

I can’t write romantic interactions for the life of me, but I tried my best for geraskier.

*BLOOD WARNING* *SERIOUSLY I MAY HAVE GONE OVERBOARD*

---

Geralt had been counting the days for almost a year now. It was his final year as Lord Jaskier’s “prisoner”. He did not wish to leave, but had put off discussing this with Jasker. Now it may be too late to alert the village to *not* send another soul. Besides, Lord Jaskier might not want him with the concept of new blood.

“What are you so concerned about, pet?”

Geralt looked over his shoulder. Once he might have been startled by his Lord’s sudden appearance, but he had become accustomed to it over the past years. “It- it has been almost ten years, Your Grace. And I-”

“Shit!” Lord Jaskier ducked away from the door, pulling a piece of parchment from the pile on his desk. He dipped his pen in the inkpot, and began scribbling.

Geralt followed his Lord to the desk. “What are you writing, my Lord?”

Jaskier finished his note with a flourish. “Why, I am requesting that the alderman not send a sacrifice this year, as presumably you are staying, darling?”

“I- was thinking quite the same, my Lord, if you’ll have me.”

“Of course, pet. Though I should hope my note arrives in time, I suppose I should still be sure they have not set someone out.” Jaskier folded the note. “Now, I shall give this to one of my friends at nightfall, and hope it reaches the alderman’s hands in time.”

Two days later, Lord Jaskier donned his cloak as the sun set. “Though I hate to leave you, dear pet, I do not believe the potential sacrifice the village may have set out for me would appreciate a death by animal, should my note have been too late.”

Geralt reached out, pulling Jaskier back. “Be back soon, Your Grace.”

Jaskier smiled, the moon rising over the forest. “Of course, dear pet.” he planted a kiss to Geralt’s lips, then slipped away into the forest.

Lord Jaskier smelled the girl before he saw her. She stank of fear and blood. Her own blood, Jaskier could tell. Nobody and nothing else was near yet, so what had happened to her?

He slipped into the clearing. The girl was unconscious, hanging limp from the post where Geralt had hung all those years ago. She was covered in her own blood, and a gash on her head oozed down her face. The fire sat with just coals.

Lord Jaskier untied the girl, lowering her to the earth. She was much younger than any the village had offered up to him previously, thirteen at most, and the scent of blood would soon attract wolves, now that the fire was out.

“Are you awake, Miss?”

The girl’s eyes fluttered. They were unfocused, and one was stuck shut with blood. “Who are you? The monster?”

Lord Jaskier sighed. “I see alderman Olan has still disregarded the explanations requested of him. I am no more a monster than whoever did this to you.”

“Olan… bastard..” the girl lost consciousness again, slumping down.

Lord Jaskier lifted the girl, finding it much more difficult to carry an unconscious body than a conscious one. He dashed back through the forest, arriving back at the manor well before dawn. The wound on the girl’s head had been bleeding on and off, and she had not awoken again.

Geralt opened the door as he saw Lord Jaskier approaching, a limp body in his arms. “Who’s this, My Lord?”

“The supposed next ‘sacrifice’ for me. It would appear that the idiot Olan has decided to try and make her more ‘appealing’ by making her bleed profusely. Help me with her, would you?”

Geralt took the limp girl from the Viscount’s arms, carrying her to a couch. In the light of the fire, he could see the extent that she was covered in blood from various gashes all over her body.

Jaskier appeared behind him. “Not THAT couch darl- oh it’s too late now. Here.” He shoved a soaked cloth and bowl of water into Geralt’s hands. “Clean her up, would you dear?” he slipped back into the shadows, presumably to find bandages somewhere.

Geralt rolled up his sleeves, not that it would do much good for the garment at this point, and began to wipe blood from the girl’s head, as most of the other wounds seemed to have scabbed over already. There was one particularly horrid slice across her forehead and one side of her head, this being the one that was still oozing blood. He would have to cut her hair to get that one clean properly.

Jaskier appeared beside him again, arms full of bandages. He pulled a second cloth from the pile and began cleaning the girl’s hair.

“My Lord, what are you doing?”

“Well I am quite sure we will need to cut some of it off, and having it NOT caked in blood seems a good idea to me.”

Geralt nodded, returning to his work on cleaning the girl’s face.

The sun rose as the vampire and human finished bandaging the girl. Now that she was not so covered in blood, she had ashy-blonde hair. She had not yet woken, which was probably a good thing, considering she would be in a lot of pain when she did.

Now that the two had a break and a chance to actually look at each other, Lord Jaskier began to laugh. “You may have been only a butcher’s apprentice back in the village, but you certainly look the part now!”

Geralt looked down at himself, hands and arms and shirt covered in semi-dried blood. He looked up at his lover and chuckled. “And you certainly look the part of a bloodthirsty monster, Your Grace.” Jaskier’s arms were also coated in semi-dried blood, and his shirt was much the worse for wear in terms of cleanliness. The couch and carpet next to it were in similar condition.

A groan from the couch alerted the two to their guest’s awakening. The girl sat up, raising a hand stiffly to her head and new haircut. “Ga~ah. Why does everything hurt?” one eye cracked open, the other being swollen shut. “Who are you?”

Jaskier dipped into a small, flourishing bow. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. Who might you be? I like to know who I have in my company.”

The girl narrowed her open eye, as much as it could be narrowed without closing. “Uh.. Cirilla. Most call me Ciri. Why… are you covered in blood?”

Geralt grunted. “It would appear to be yours.”

Ciri’s head turned to look at Geralt. “You’re alive?”

“So it seems.”

Ciri huffed. “Well then Olan is even more of a bastard.”

“How so?”

“Idiot told me you were dead, so ‘it doesn’t matter what happens before the monster takes you’.”

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed. “That fucking- Geralt I don’t suppose you remember how to use a blade? I believe it’s about time I visited your village again.”

Cirilla grinned. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, Viscount, you had better wait for me. I want a stab at him too, seeing as he did this to me.”

Geralt looked at her sidelong. “You’re quick. Don’t suppose you can actually use a blade to boot?”

Ciri hissed as she swung her legs over the side of the couch. “Once I can move properly? Sure.” she stood, wobbling a bit. She was about four and a half feet tall and skinny.

Jaskier clapped his hands. “Wonderful, now I believe it’s time for breakfast.” he looked down at his bloody hands. “No. First, we are cleaning this mess.”

#geraskier #vampire jaskier #mysterious night blooming roses au headcanon #mnbr headcanon #other people's writing #bounceacoinoffyoursubmissions #submission

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raendown · 4 years

Link

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 3235 Soulmate au: The one where any tattoo that you get shows up on your soulmate and vice versa

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Chapter 218

It had been dozens of generations since the Uchiha clan discovered the secret of their most powerful weapon hidden in the love they so fiercely protected, just as many since the discovery that their greatest strength was also their greatest weakness, the curse that could bring low any warrior from the weakest to the most battle hardened. They were not so self centered to believe that other clans did not love their important people fiercely but there had always been a certain extra level of passion in an Uchiha’s emotions that just didn’t seem to exist for anyone not of their blood. Were they born of any other clan the sheer weight of their love would have been labeled oppressive. For an Uchiha it was nothing less than expected, necessary in a way. Without the crushing weight of love to hold them against the earth an Uchiha was cursed to spiral in to madness with only their bloody sharingan to light the way forward. It was not a future any of them looked forward to.

Some escaped the curse, of course. It wasn’t an inevitability for anyone who chose the life of a civilian or followed a path that did not lead to the battlefields. Madara found himself envious of those people sometimes. The artisans who spent their worries on sourcing materials and feeding orphans had a hard life in their own way but a much more peaceful one. He was willing to bet very few of them had ever come awake at night with their eyes spinning red and their mind filled with horrors that would never - could never - be forgotten. He wished sometimes that he could have such an uncomplicated life.

He wished sometimes that he had never fallen in love.

What should have been the center of his happiness, the anchor that weighed his sanity against the storm of a shinobi’s life, walked ahead of him with confident strides and eyes that looked forward, unaware of the power they held. Sometimes Madara wondered if Tobirama knew about his feelings. To anyone else in his own clan he was sure what he felt was as clear as day. Even if Izuna hadn’t said anything yet he’d felt his brother’s gaze on him when the fire in his veins overflowed in public, something he tried so hard to muffle and failed more often than not. He supposed in a way it could be considered an advantage in this case, the fact that his people seemed to love just a little differently than the rest of the world. If Tobirama knew he surely would have said something. The fact that he didn’t was probably the closest thing to mercy he was likely to get.

Because Tobirama, cold and distant and so very perfect for the man that Madara had shaped himself in to, was not the soulmate he was meant for. The proof of it was right there on his face in three thin lines red like blood. Red like passion. Red like the sharingan he still didn’t seem to trust very much. Madara was only too aware that if they were indeed meant to be soulmates he would have woken up with those same tattoos the day after Tobirama received his own. But he hadn’t. His skin was clean and bare of any marks except for the scars of battles he couldn’t count. Whether that was because his true soulmate was waiting on him to guide them in with ink of his choosing or simply because they did not exist he didn’t know. Didn’t care. It had been a handful of years now since he stopped caring whether they might still be alive out there somewhere.

It was hard to imagine what his soulmate could ever offer that might turn his eyes away from the man walking in front of him now. Harder still to imagine the monumental force it would take to peel the layers of emotions away from his heart until he stopped loving Tobirama. He was, after all, an Uchiha. Not a people known for giving up on love very easily. As a whole they tended to prefer death, not something he was very eager to run towards when the village he’d dreamed of as a child was less than a decade off the ground. He was aware that this love was likely to be the thing that drove him in to his grave and yet as he watched Tobirama stop to soften the blow of a child crashing headlong in to his legs Madara couldn’t bring himself to care about that either.

“Having second thoughts, Uchiha?”

“What?” Madara snapped back to reality to see that the child was leaving, scampering back to her mother with a smile made of crooked teeth, leaving Tobirama to look back at him with one eyebrow raised expectantly. “You wish, Senju. I’m going to grind you in to the dirt!”

“I’m shaking in my boots.” Words spoken with absolutely no inflection. Tobirama blinked once and then turned to continue walking towards the training grounds mostly frequented by him and his brother. It took a special kind of terrain to contain two such powerhouses without the effects of their training spilling over to bother the surrounding populace. Madara would know. He had chosen his own favorite training ground for just the same reason.

Possibly it hadn’t been one of his best ideas to suggest Tobirama spar with him instead after walking in on Hashirama apologizing for having to cancel the time they’d set aside for training together. Madara watched the mesmerizing walk of a shinobi built for speed and decided he didn’t care whether this was smart or not. Their skill levels were close enough and well balanced enough to make for an interesting fight so whether or not he made a fool of himself it promised to at least be an interesting afternoon. If his heart just happened to get broken along the way, well, it had been breaking every day since he first recognized these hopeless feelings for what they were.

One thing he had not taken in to account was the stretching. Sparring was one thing, the rush of adrenaline and the rapid movements as opponents danced around each other, together and apart again over and over. The necessary step of stretching out their muscles was quite another. Without the high of mock battle Madara was forced to turn his body away just to stop his eyes from being too obvious with the way he couldn’t seem to tear them away. He wanted those elegant fingers to trace his skin, wanted those steely arms to cage him in like he was something precious, something to be treasured like he treasured the smallest glimpses of things he would never call his own. Facing somewhere other than the chest he wanted so badly to press his ear against just to hear the heart beneath it was much easier. Instead of making the usual show of himself Madara watched the clouds scudding across the blue sky above them, leaning deeper in to his stretches to let the burn clear his thoughts. Only when he was sure none of his emotions were showing on his face did he finally turn around and demand they get on with it.

“Someone seems eager to injure his own pride,” Tobirama noted with a hint of a devastating smirk. Madara scowled.

“You think a lot of your skills. Shall we dance, Senju, so we can put them to the test?”

“Let’s,” was all the warning Tobirama gave him before the two of them exploded in to motion at the same time.

It felt good to focus on the flow and pull of his own body undulating across the field, dodging and weaving through Tobirama’s attacks, breathing fire hot enough to evaporate the water used against him. Nothing would ever be as good as battle for clearing the mind of any other unwanted thoughts. After barely a couple of minutes Madara was relaxed enough to let slip a feral grin, truly enjoying himself enough to forget his romantic woes for just a little while.

Unfortunately it really was only a little while. With the sheer power they both had Madara thought the two of them could have locked themselves in to a stalemate for a good long while but it seemed as though the difference in their skill sets was just enough to give one or the other the upper hand fairly quickly each round, the victor declared depending on who spotted an opening first. Barely more than an hour had passed before they were half a dozen rounds in and both of them were drenched with sweat from giving it their best effort. Madara chose to delude himself that Tobirama was working as hard to impress him as he was to impress the younger man. A harmless delusion, at least compared to the other ones he entertained when he was alone and free to dream of the impossible.

Or so he thought. This apparently harmless delusion is exactly what cost him the spar, distracting him with a sensation of triumph and a need to overextend himself in an attempt to look good. Like a feral animal Tobirama seemed almost able to smell when his opponent was weak. In a flash he had Madara pinned on his back with a blade at his throat and for one interminable moment in time the wild glint of his eyes was the only thing that existed. The entire rest of the world faded away, narrowed down the same look Madara had been drowning in since his cursed heart first latched on to someone he knew he couldn’t have.

He didn’t realize he was staring until Tobirama frowned and pulled away to stand up. Then he silently berated himself. So much effort put in every day to keep his feelings private, knowing they would not be returned, and now he’d given up all his secrets for nothing but a pair of pretty eyes. Tobirama was a smart man, after all. It would certainly be too much to ask that he not draw the right conclusions from whatever foolish expression Madara had just been wearing.

“I…” Jaw hanging open for the space of two heartbeats, Tobirama closed it again with a helplessly bemused expression. It was obvious he wasn’t sure what to say. There wasn’t really much to be said.

“Don’t,” Madara warned him. “Just...don’t.”

Covered in sweat, breathing like a civilian after running a mile, he was painfully aware of the incredibly unattractive picture he made. Not exactly an image to swoon over, let alone fall in love with. As if he’d ever had a chance of Tobirama falling in love with him. Something dangerous pulsed behind his eyes and Madara turned away before either of them could discuss what his sharingan was trying to do, ignoring the tempting voice that called for him to come back and talk about this like adults. Instead he coiled his legs and launched himself towards the trees without actually paying attention to where he was heading. Anywhere was better than here.

Literally anything in the world was a better use of his time than having his heart broken by a rejection he could have seen coming with both eyes closed.

Avoiding Tobirama was both simple and complicated. Not many of their duties overlapped, their talents leading them to work in different departments. Unfortunately they did sit on a number of the same councils and committees and it was quite the challenge attending each of his duties without getting caught by a man who could move so much faster than he could. It took twisting and planning and every dirty trick that Madara had up his sleeve but he managed it, somehow, for several weeks. He couldn’t imagine what Tobirama could possibly still want to say after so much time had passed but he was very sure he didn’t want to hear it. All he wanted was to enjoy these last few years of sanity before the inevitable curse of his clan at last began to shred the barrier between his heart and good sense.

Obviously he couldn’t run forever, though, not from someone as determined as Tobirama. Madara wondered why he still found that such an attractive trait even as he watched the other man bear down on him in the records room where several heavy layers of seals prevented him from using a body flicker to escape.

“We need to talk.”

“No, we really don’t,” he snapped back in the hopes that his natural grumpiness would cover the dread choking his voice.

“Don’t look at me like that, Uchiha. Are you or are you not the same idiot who faced the Raikage and his personal guard all by yourself with no backup? Quit looking so...so…”

Madara scowled. “So?”

“Afraid of me,” Tobirama finished his sentence with the slightest note of hesitation, like he knew exactly how badly Madara would despise hearing those words. And indeed they did bring a scowl to his face. He’d never been afraid of anything in his life except for losing his precious people. This wasn’t fear. This was nothing more than a healthy predilection for not landing himself in painful situations.

“I’m not afraid of you! Go away!”

Rather than scurrying off for the hills - because of course he wouldn’t, Tobirama had always taken a lot more than one quick snap to run off - he bullied in closer until he had Madara hemmed in to a corner, boxed in on all sides with nowhere to look but forwards.

“Clearly we’re not going to be able to talk about this calmly but I don’t know why I expected any more of you. You’re as ruled by your emotions as my brother is. To make this as painless as possible how about you just shut up and let me lay out the facts, yes?” Raising one hand, Tobirama began to tick off his fingers as he continued. “You have some sort of feelings for me and yet you chose not to speak to me about them. I wondered why until I realized it probably had something to do with either your heritage as an Uchiha or your status as unbonded. As someone outside of your clan those answers were not available to me. However, the second option was one I was more than capable of testing for myself. If you would just-”

Madara tried to balk when pale fingers reached for his arm but Tobirama pinned him with a look so venomous he could do nothing but stand absolutely still while his sleeve was pulled up to reveal his forearm, a particularly boring part of the human body in his own opinion, something he was utterly baffled by the need to see until he looked down and noticed something new for the first time.

“That wasn’t there this morning,” he breathed. As he spoke his eyes remained fixed on the small shape exactly halfway between wrist and elbow. The stylized leaf of Konohagakure was something he’d helped to design but he certainly hadn’t expected it to show up on his skin without warning. A soul tattoo. If he hadn’t put it there himself then the only possible explanation was that his soulmate had branded themselves with a tattoo at last, echoing itself on to Madara’s skin through the bond they shared. Suddenly it felt very difficult to swallow. Breathing, too, felt nearly impossible as he watched Tobirama hike up one of his own sleeves and turn his arm.

“It appears my suspicions were correct,” he heard the man say in a strangely gentle voice. “We are soulmates.”

“How?”

Startled, Tobirama blinked at him several times before venturing, “What do you mean how?”

He looked even more startled when Madara began to flail like he always did when his emotions got the better of him.

“I mean how! This doesn’t make sense! It has to be some kind of coincidence, someone else saw your tattoo and got the same one. Something! How the hell can we be soulmates if this ink shows up but the ink all over your face doesn’t show up on mine!?”

“What? Oh. Oh! I see.” Confusion blossomed in to understanding only to fade away in to something soft, something very much like the expression Tobirama reserved only for the rare moments he chose to show his fondness for the few people he was close to. Having such a look directed his way made the poor heart in Madara’s chest leap in several different directions at once. Or at least that was what it felt like.

Feeling almost left behind, he demanded, “You see what?” Then he gasped when Tobirama reached up to touch one of his cheeks.

“The marks on my face are not tattoos. They’re seals, much like the one Mito wears on her forehead, meant to store chakra in case of some emergency.” He traced the line of Madara’s jaw and leaned impossibly closer until they were breathing the same air. “Is that why you refused to speak to me? You wanted this. But you thought- ah. My own reticence comes back to bite me yet again. I’m sorry for the confusion.”

“You should be,” was all Madara could think to say. Forming any thoughts at all felt incredibly difficult at the moment.

“And how shall I make it up to you, hm?”

It would have been impossible to name all the many emotions running through Madara’s veins at that moment. Years of watching and yearning in silence, years spent waiting for the inevitable madness so many Uchiha had fallen victim to, years of cursing his heart for treading this path towards his own doom. All of it had been for nothing. The man he loved was his soulmate after all - and more than that, Tobirama had not rejected him, seemed willing to entertain the notion even. Relief and happiness and consternation and anger and joy and confusion and desperation all wound together in a tight knot he feared would never come untangled again. Words failed him. And so he turned to action.

Tobirama, by some whim of mercy, did not laugh at him for having to stand on his toes in order to crush their mouths together. In fact he seemed more eager to reciprocate than anything else and Madara wondered if turning his eyes away so often had left him blind to things that could have been his a long time ago. He resolved not to ask. Whatever the answer was he was sure it would make him ashamed of his own dramatics.

Several minutes had passed by the time his heels touched the ground again, though his hands remained where he hadn’t even noticed them twisting in to the other’s shirt. Madara closed his eyes and simply breathed for a moment. He still wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Uchiha don’t love by halves,” he murmured in warning. “If we do this then we do it for real.”

“I know.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

With a bone deep shudder Madara did. He fell in to Tobirama the way he’d never thought he would and when his soulmate caught him as easily as breathing he thought oh.

So this is what it feels like to be loved.

#rae writes #soulmate collection #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Text

Day 10: “How’s the weather down there, babe?”

Masterlist

Three things: 1, this is set in the Empires on the Horizon universe, however you do not need to read or be caught up with that fic to understand what’s going on here. 2, i got so excited writing this i forgot all about the prompt and then had to go back and figure it out. 3, this is so horrifically sweet please be aware you might need to go to the dentist for cavities after this. I lied there’s four things; if you want full vibes while reading this listen to “Winter” by Tori Amos (chosen by my darling child, @little-league-coach-mako)

non-canon complaint, Empires on the Horizon AU

Annabeth Chase had been wanting to go to the lake cabins for over a year but between her and her boyfriend’s busy schedules and the continuously unfolding happenings of their friends’ lives it seemed almost impossible. But finally, three weeks till the end of December her and Leo are packing up their car and grabbing snacks for the break to the cabins.

It will be a well deserved, much-needed rest.

“You ready, my love?”

She looks around their room, as meticulous and pristine as they made it each morning. The white sheets tucked tightly into the bed, and the maroon throw angled over one corner so that the two sides hanging over the bed were exact in length. Their blinds had been drawn shut, but winter sunlight still leaked through their large windows, causing the white-oak floors to soften into magnolia.

“I’m ready,” She turns around with a gentle smile on her face, hands reaching for him.

He pulls her in for a hug, surrounding her with the warmth that always seems to radiate from him, no matter the temperature. His curls tickle her cheeks and she can smell the cinnamon and wood that seemed to be his cologne.

“You okay?” There is concern lacing his voice like wax; it makes her choke on emotions she didn’t even know she was holding down.

“I love you.”

Leo pulls back, worry in those beautiful brown eyes, “I love you.” He strokes her back gently, “Do you want to stay home?”

“No!” She bursts, “Gods no. I’m just tired and i can’t wait to walk into our little bubble and never leave.”

He simply hugs her tighter and she feels every wonderful feeling soar between their bodies.

Soon enough they’re in the car and on their way, with nothing but open roads and bare trees in their vision. The road trip is short, three hours at most, and Annabeth is content to listen to her boyfriend’s soft jazz and stare out the window, bundled in blankets and pillows, and snacks. Leo keeps a hand on her thigh for most of the drive, a comfortable weight and a reassurance that he is here, that he isn’t leaving. By the time they get there it is raining hard, battering the roof of the car like drums. It soothes her soul.

They rush into the cabin in a blur of bags and slicking mud, laughing as the onslaught drenches them. Their curls become coiled and springy, losing all the effort they had put in before leaving. But they’re inside and it is warm and the clouds opening above them are a comfort that carries their feet to safety.

“I love it here.” Annabeth sighs, looking around. There’s a small table in one corner, and a large fireplace running through the middle of the space, separating the dining room from the lounge. The couch looks inviting, stacked with copious pillows and the fluffiest blanket she has ever seen. The kitchen is... quaint. All the necessary appliances are there but it doesn’t make the area look any less like an 18th century cottage.

Her boyfriend steps out of the room, where he had gone to put their bags away, and wraps his arms around her waist as they take in their home for the week. It is dark outside but the moon is high, casting a white glow between the clouds that gives the whole world a haunted look. The lake is pitch black but she knows when they wake up tomorrow it will be a glistening blue, sparkling against the weak sunlight.

“Want to have a bath?” Leo nuzzles her neck, “Get warm?”

“Yes,” She breathes, “And then can we make hot chocolate and snuggle up by the fire?”

His laughter is bright and lovely as he spins her around so they’re chest to chest. “We can do whatever you want, my love.”

“Let’s go then!’ She tugs on his hand, racing to the bathroom. “I’ve got a new book i want to start.”

“Of course you do,” He scrunches his nose teasingly, “You nerd.”

“Hey, i’m not the one pursuing yet another degree.’ She gives him a pointed look. “I mean i love studying but a PhD and a masters later?” Her face pulls with exasperation, “Even that’s too much for me.”

He scoffs, slapping her butt as she bends down to turn the tap on, “I have to study if i want a degree in architecture.”

“You know i wanted to be an architect when i was little.” She mutters distractedly, swirling her hand in the water as it heats up.

“You did?” She can hear the surprise in his voice. “What stopped you?”

She smirks over her shoulder, “All the cute girls liked engineers better.”

“Yes that certainly seemed to be the case.” His eyes spark with joy as laughter bubbles out of him. It fills all the cracks inside her, like gold.

She strips and lowers herself into the steaming water, while her boyfriend gets ready to join her. And then, with a content sigh he gets in behind her, supple fingers already reaching to massage the knots that seem to tie themselves at her shoulders. With a groan she leans into him, letting the magic of the moment wash over her. It’s not surprising then, when she falls asleep.

She is woken up by the loss of heat at her back. Grogginess clouding her mind, she cracks an eye open and sees Leo standing over her, a towel around his waist.

“Can you help me, my love?” He grips underneath her arms. “I need you to push up so we can get you out of the bath and I can dry you off. Can you do that?”

Sleep is pulling at the exhausted strings of her body and it is a fight to hear what he says. But something pierces the hazy veil and she nods, digging her heels into the porcelain tub.

In one swift motion she is pulled out and stumbling into a warm body. A towel, coarse with freshness, rubs across her body; she doesn’t register much of the situation, swaying on her feet as her boyfriend dries her legs. A chilly breeze wraps around her bare arms, and she feels goosebumps rise on her skin. Oh dear, what if Leo is also cold? She should check on him. She blinks, blinks again, and realises he’s on the floor, rubbing her calves in a gentle motion.

“How’s the weather down their babe?” She mumbles, looking at him, or the blurry image of him, before her.

“Warm, love,” He smirks up at her, “View is great too.”

“Of course it is,” Her murmur is all sleep-deprived and unintelligible. She feels him press a kiss to her knee. “I'm tired,”

“I know angel.” His voice is so soft. Like marshmallows and clouds and sweetness. “Here’s a t-shirt.” He holds one of her hands as he guides it through the correct holes, and then her head, and her other hand. She moans contentedly.

Through her fluttering eyelids she sees a little smirk pulling at his lovely, candlelit face. “It smells good.”

“The shirt?” He kneels before her and lifts a foot to put on her favourite pair of fluffy socks. “What does it smell like?”

There’s nothing but pretty darkness, and molten brown eyes as she collapses into his arms. “Smells like you.”

Lifting her up so her head is against his chest, and an arm is tucked underneath her knees, he whispers. “Let’s go to bed, my love.”

Moments later she is gently put down in what can only be described as paradise. She sinks into the duvets burying her nose in the fresh sheets which smell like forests and rose-petals. Leo crawls in next to her, and after a bit of maneuvering she slings her arm around his waist and finds the spot between his neck and shoulders where her head fits perfectly.

He kisses her head of curls, “Goodnight angel.”

It is the last thing she remembers before she succumbs to her exhaustion.

Annabeth wakes up to sunshine on her skin, and her nose nuzzling her boyfriend’s back. The room is quiet, save for Leo’s steady breathing, and she takes the time to observe their slice of Elysium.

A small writing desk sits in the corner, a stack of yellowed papers and a fake quill on top of it. The bed is situated in the center of the space with dark wood canopies framing it. And the huge window that sits to their right looks out to the lake which, as she had suspected, is bright blue. There is a small boat house tucked in the reeds that border the water and she knows before the end of the week they’ll have used the canoes housed there, and probably dropped the oars in the water about six times before they get the hang of it.

In the other corner of the room is the entrance to their bathroom; as she looks to it she realises with a startle that she needs to pee. Very badly. Trying not to make too much of a disturbance she slides out and races to the bathroom. When she comes back Leo is awake, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and sitting up, against their mountain of pillows.

“Hello love,” She smiles, tucking herself into his side, ‘How did you sleep?”

“Like the dead.” He grins, all white teeth and mischief.

“Me too.” She traces her finger along the smooth plains of his stomach. “I really was tired.”

He giggles, “I know. You couldn’t even keep yourself upright while I tried to towel you dry.”

She pokes him, “At least i didn’t fall back into the tub.”

“I would have left you there.”

Her gasp of disbelief sets them both laughing and when she reaches up to brush a kiss to his lips, she swallows his happiness like it’s her favourite drug.

“Shall we make breakfast and go for a boat ride?”

“First one to lose the oar has to plan the holiday party this year?” She smirks, holding out her hand to sign the deal.

Her boyfriend takes her hand in his, and pulls her closer so they’re barely a breath apart. “You’re on Chase.”

And when they come back from the lake hours later, Annabeth is the one to plan the holiday party because her boyfriend, no her fiancé, had surprised her with a ring. That’s really an honourable reason to lose an oar. Or both.

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

Tags:

@nishlicious-01

@spoopylucy

@leydiangelo

#leobeth #12 days of fanfics #pjjg series #pjjg fanfic #annabeth chase #leo valdez #empires on the horizon

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outroshooky · 4 years

Text

no halo | kth

⇢ genre: oneshot (brief angst, fluff, smut) (exestolovers!au)

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader, bestfriend!min yoongi x reader

⇢ word count: 5.3k

⇢ audio: brockhampton’s ginger album

⇢ warnings: brief angst (it’s exes to lovers, what do you expect), a smoking mention, some varied cursing; implied and explicit smut (soft!! body worship). there’s a happy ending, i promise.

⇢ a/n: i sat down at my laptop today, turned on no halo by brockhampton, and started writing. six hours later, i cannot believe that i managed to smash a brutal writer’s block by churning this out in literally one day. i hope that this is a bit of bright light for you, dear reader, in a time where nothing seems to be going your way. you will make it through no matter how messy or uncertain life seems to be, and you will come out on the other side all the more stronger for having survived it.

Believe it or not, it’s the pair of battered red Converse slung over his shoulder that tips the whole thing over the edge.

It’s inexplicable. Perhaps it’s the memories attached to it, knotted and strung through metal rivets scuffed with night rides and hard asphalt. Tastes like cigarette smoke and ashen dreams wafting from the driver’s side window, but there’s something more bitter there. Heartbreak veins, like you’d expect them to pulse with anything but. They say love doesn’t last when it’s not built on something solid, but somehow, heady summer nights and network love aren’t enough to pass the time.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing with those?” It bites, thickened with venom. Somewhere far-off is a headboard banging, curses of those stupidly thin walls of the motel complex.

“They’re mine,” Yoongi says. Which they are. Unfortunately. “I need them to like, go outside and stuff.”

“Fuck you,” you fire back.

“A ray of sunshine you are,” he remarks. “Any particular reason you feel like biting my head off in this shitty hotel room?”

The silence explains absolutely nothing. What he doesn’t know is that it’s not his fault. It’s right there in the middle of the dingy carpet, cracked and bleeding, privy to one and one alone. You’re too stubborn and he’s too good and here you find yourselves, locked at an impasse. He doesn’t know how good he is, how he’s patched your wounds up with wind in your hair and sand between your toes. He tries his best; it’s better than anything you would allow yourself, a luscious pleasure in such a stark world. So you settle for what you’ve got, and he shakes his head.

“You know you can come to me, right? About what’s on your mind?”

You finger the fraying tear in the bedspread, the cotton crumbling between your thumb and index.

“Look, I’m not good at this feelings thing and you know that. But you’re my friend, and I care about you, and I want to hear you out, okay? Whatever you’re thinking about. You’re not gonna hurt me; it’s not like I haven’t been through the ringer myself. You’re not so different, yeah?” Yoongi’s eyes search your own for acceptance. Defeat. Anything at all. “You’re not some kind of lost cause because one asshole in particular who shall not be named made you feel that way. Maybe it was two assholes. Whatever. Your worth isn’t dependent on their opinion of you.”

It feels like rambling but burns like an iron, sears through the darkness hovering over your consciousness, casting shadow. That thing twitches, bent and broken deep inside, staining down the bedsheets and spilling onto the beige carpet. He’s hit home, and Yoongi knows it when the defiance in your brow drains, floodwater evaporating against the creamy popcorn ceiling. He’ll forever hold that he doesn’t have a way with words; you’d kindly argue the opposite.

“I’m sorry, Yoon.” You look up at him for the first time since you’d woken up on opposite sides of the same bed. Something about childhood innocence preserves moments like those, in spite of years gone past since the last time you shared a bed like that. Nothing dirty about needing companionship in the form of a brother you’d had since you’d skipped stones down at the pond in grade school. He knows you intrinsically, like the scars that cross his knees and the freckles that dot his neck, no better and no less. “You deserve better than the way I’ve been treating you. Because you’re right, you know. But right now, it hurts.”

“Hurt doesn’t make you any less human. It’s a part of life. And it’s okay to hurt sometimes. Just don’t let it consume you till there’s nothing left.” He readjusts the shoes tied together by one string, sitting on the narrow angular of his shoulder. “Breakfast ends in an hour. I’ll grab you something and bring it back, and then we’ll figure out what to do next, yeah? I don’t have work till Tuesday, so we don’t have to be back for a few days more.” He pauses in the doorway. “Oh, and for the record, fuck Kim Taehyung. I’ll knock his teeth through his ass for the shit he put you through.”

The small smile you crack brings a toothy grin to his own visage. “Excellent advice.”

There’s a wry fondness dancing in the deep russet of his pupils, burning umber in the low light. “I try.”

Fuck Kim Taehyung. The exact advice you needed to hear, and the exact advice you decided to act upon, in exactly all of the wrong ways.

It’s the number that is stamped on your brain like a fifty-dollar tattoo— not necessarily the most tasteful, a pain in the ass to remove. Unfortunately, it is the tattoo that your thoughts like to trace with gentle fingers, rubbing at the lines, blurring the edges. Laser removal takes time and patience, but the contrary nestles in the form of stupid decisions and late-night mistakes. Like a dead battery on your Wrangler at 1am on the back streets, a useless cell phone, and three weeks of time to think.

Grief gave way to rage gave way to kindling coals of sadness, burning low but bright enough to light your way. Gone were your attempts to fan them back into the roaring bonfire those motel walls once contained, but here were your best efforts to cradle them close, nurture them that they might die out on their own, and most of them had. Moving on tasted ginger-sweet and minty-bitter, the chill in the air as the leaves tumbled and crunched underfoot, ignited with reds and yellows and everything in between. A summertime flame left for the autumn rain.

Pour the rain did, leaking rivulets down the windshield as you sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the dashboard. In times like these you’d call Yoongi, but he didn’t get off work till the morning and an impossibly timed dead zone did nothing to help your wireless suffering. Nighttime meant comfort for souls like yours, an escape into the quiet of dusk when everyone else sought the dreamy confines of sleep. Unfortunately, it meant that everyone else sought sleep while you were cursedly awake and stuck in the downpour. No place to go, no one to find.

You let your head fall forward and hit the steering wheel with a thunk. Fuck.

Knock knock.

It’s a glance to the left, out the driver’s side window that reveals a silhouette framed in darkness, wrapped in a thick coat, peering through the glass. Hand raised to brow and you can’t help the involuntarily yelp that leaves your mouth from the sheer proximity of the stranger. The figure flinches back in response, and you can’t help the immediate pang of worry. You can’t afford to miss a chance for help, but you also can’t roll down the window, and thus you’re opening the door and squinting into the rain as it blusters through the open gap. “Hello, I’m sorry, my cell phone isn’t working, is it possible for me to borrow yours so I could call somebody to pick me up?”

“Wait, what?” The stranger hunches slightly, peering through the watery onslaught. “Is that who I think it is?”

Oh god.

Oh god no.

The sheer absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on you, not like the way relief is wrapping that thick timbre around yourself like a familiar blanket. The irony of your car happening to die only a few blocks away from that little blue two-story, the coincidences of such a familiar stranger going out for a stroll in the middle of a fucking rainstorm. Of course he had to.

“Unfortunately,” you can’t help but grimace. “Taehyung, what the fuck are you doing out here in weather like this?”

You can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. It almost aches. “Are you saying this isn’t ideal weather to take a walk and enjoy the fresh air?”

“No,” you reply bluntly. Infuriatingly positive he is, always has been. “Ideal weather isn’t a fucking thunderstorm.”

“Mm.” The momentary quiet, save the rainfall, hints at what goes unsaid. “So what are you doing out here?”

You bristle. How to formulate a response that would not warrant help, but also warrant help? “I was out taking a late-night drive and stopped to take a break. I was getting drowsy and I prefer to be a responsible driver, so I pulled over to make sure I was awake enough to drive home.”

“What a considerate person you are!” Taehyung trills, and you’re almost positive it is completely unironic. “How are you feeling then? Do you think you’ll be able to drive home?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll be fine.” A tight smile. Polite. It takes every ounce of will to not study him deeper, all of the curves and edges hidden snugly in the darkness. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure? It’s raining really hard as well; you won’t be able to see well even if you aren’t feeling drowsy.” There’s genuine concern in his tone, warmth bubbling from his throat like liquid sunshine. Maddening. But he’s right; he’s shining a bright light through the flimsy veil of your lies and you’re pinned. Even more maddening.

“Taehyung, it’s—” you clamp your mouth shut because in a slip of the tongue, you were that close to letting anger seep into your tone. That close to losing your stance as the better man, but the line of who exactly is the better man is smudged beyond sight in the downpour. You take a deep breath. Start again. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

Lightning flashes, jolting the clouds and cleaving them in two. The very world could be coming down in tatters around him and Taehyung wouldn’t think twice about being his everyday self, annoyingly cheery and maddeningly gentlemanly. You swear you see a flash of teeth, a boxy smile despite the water dripping from his umbrella, striking the pavement with an irregular heartbeat. Not your own, of course. “Nonsense! We can’t have you left out here to soak like this. Come on, you can drive us home!”

Oh my god, he certainly has not disappeared quicker than the very implication left his mouth. He is not shaking his head like a dog shedding wetness, nor opening the passenger’s side and hopping in, pausing to fold his umbrella in the gap before pulling the door neatly shut. You are not seated in your dead Wrangler with your ex-boyfriend at one-thirty in the morning in the middle of the very heavens coming apart with a religious fervor.

Taehyung brushes his wet hair out of his face, dribbling water down his cheeks. For all of your expectations, he looks no different than when you saw him last, standing on the curb with all the world’s joys flickering in his pretty almond eyes. The shadows cast his profile in a gaunter light, sweeping down the hollows of his jawline, his cheekbones; your fingers tighten around the door handle. Apparently, three weeks might not change much after all.

“Oh sorry, did I rush you?” He opts to ignore your blank-eyed stare of shock, reaching out to you before pausing, his hand outstretched to touch you. “I didn’t mean to rush you if you’re not ready to drive yet. We can sit here as long as you’d like! There’s no rush for me to be home. I just wanted to get out of the rain; it was starting to soak through my umbrella!”

For all of this, you can manage a brief: “Yeah.”

“Let me know when you’re ready to go!” The optimism in his voice is painful.

“Taehyung.”

“Yeah!”

“I lied.”

You don’t need to look at him to know the way his forehead will furrow. “What?”

“Gah!” You can’t help pinching your brow between two fingers. “I can’t fucking believe this—”

“Believe what?” Blinking doe-eyes, long lashes wet and thick in the dimness.

“Taehyung, my car battery died three blocks from your house and my cell phone isn’t working, and now I’m sitting here with my ex-boyfriend in the passenger’s seat and I have no fucking idea how I ended up here.” You sigh. “Do you not see the irony in this?”

He blatantly ignores the gesture towards the massive elephant basically perched on the center console. “No wonder your car is off! We’ll walk then.”

“Taehyung, please just make it easier for the both of us and l—”

It’s no use. Dear god. How you had ever put up with him, shared a bed with him is currently escaping you, but regardless of this, he is already out of the car as the words punctuate empty air. Weighing options is impossible when you have none to choose from.

“-use my phone to call somebody to pick you up!” The driver’s side door opens and he’s there, right there, not across the console or the bar or whatever. Right there. “Come on, we don’t have time to waste!”

“Kim Taehyung, for god’s sake, I am your ex-girlfriend!” The exclamatory stops him in his tracks. Finally. “Why are you helping me?”

The rain pours rivulets down his black slicker, drenching his hair and bunching along his shoulders and running down his arms. And yet, he brushes the water from his brow with a swipe of his thumb, peers at you, sneakered feet planted firmly in the asphalt. He raises a finger to the sky, smiles— not a half-smile, lopey and lop-sided, but a true grin, squared and gummy and full of wonder. “Ideal weather.”

“Kim Taehyung, you are absolutely ridiculous—”

“Ideal!”

“So let me get this straight,” Yoongi grits as you sit across from him, your frame molded into the plush of his second-hand loveseat. “Your car died on the back streets, coincidentally three blocks from Kim Taehyung’s house, who is— just to double check— the asshole who shredded your relationship, and he happened to be out for a walk in the rain and stumbled across you in your car, and offered to take you back to his house and let you stay there till morning until you could get me to pick you up?”

“Yes.”

“What the actual fuck.”

You gesture at him with your free hand, the other occupying a mug of steaming tea. “Join the club.”

“Just to double check, we’re talking about the same Kim Taehyung. The dude who you officially dated for a solid four months but fucked around with long before that. That guy, right? That Taehyung?”

You release a deep breath; the steam rising from your mug winds away. “Yes, it’s the same Kim Taehyung.”

Yoongi looks like he is about to spit nails. “I hope you took the chance to kick him in the balls.”

“Yoongi!”

“Just saying.”

“It could’ve been a lot worse, actually.” Your companion raises an eyebrow. “He gave me his umbrella when we walked back.”

“Ah yes, because giving you his umbrella once undoes six months of emotional damage—”

“Yoongi, chill. I did what I had to do—”

“Which is good, because survival skills are important.” He searches your face for any hint of something other than stoicism. Forgiveness, maybe. “And it doesn’t have to be any more than that.”

“I didn’t say it was,” you affirm. “But even if I don’t like him, I owe him credit where it’s due.”

Yoongi frowns. He knows not to push, but curiosity pecks his bones, nips his intuition. “For the third time— why didn’t you call me last night when you got back to his house?”

You sip at your tea. Flaxen sweet, mild on your tongue. “You were at work and I didn’t want to bother. Paying rent is more important than saving my sorry stranded ass.”

“You’re neglecting to mention the Kim Taehyung part.”

He rubs a fine nerve, one push too far. “Yoongi, what are you so worried about?” You sit up, place your mug on the fold-out table. “It’s not like I’m suddenly pining over him just because he happened to be there when I needed help. It’s not like I had any other options; I can handle myself. Taehyung and I broke up a month and a half ago; I’m not as… broken as I was before.”

It’s written on Yoongi’s face that he doesn’t like it, but protectiveness wins out over stubbornness. It always does when it comes to you. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.”

You soften. “I know.”

The tension drains from his hunched figure. “I know you can handle yourself when it comes to people like him. But I also know how hard you cried over him in a shitty motel all those weeks ago.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “I don’t want you to feel like that again because of someone. Fool me twice, you know? You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes flick to his. Steady, warm, weighing justice by the tawny flecks that glint in the raven black of his irises. “I do. And I don’t doubt that. It won’t happen again.”

His own mug clacks as it meets the wooden tabletop. “You know, you never told me what exactly happened between you two that ended it. Like, I know the rough idea, but not play-by-play. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but…” He trails off, leaving the gap.

“Ah.” A remark, neutral in sheen but bitter in taste. Like biting into the shell of a crisp apple, only to find that it’s not as sweet as once hoped it to be. “Sure.”

So Yoongi listens.

It’s strange how someone so vivid in nightmares, so seemingly real as the pen between your fingers or the breath in your lungs, can fade away so quickly by daybreak. Before you ran into Taehyung again (for better or for worse? For worse), he loomed as some larger-than-life figure in the back of your consciousness, spewing traumas and terrors like a river gully. But there he was in the passenger’s seat, no larger or smaller than before. Just Taehyung. Terrifying in premise, in rationality, on the contrary.

With that in mind, it was hard to not wonder if you had, perhaps, not given him credit where it was due. The Taehyung you met in the pouring rain was the same Taehyung whose hair you brushed sand from and temple you kissed and sides you pinched to get him to squeak when he laughed. Memories you tried to stuff away, filter through a new lens with every flicker in your mind, like a crackling film reel. But there he was, and here you were, and you weren’t quite sure who you were running from anymore.

Is it easy to run from someone who your lips know the taste of, fingers know the feel of? Is it easier to run from yourself when you strip away the miscommunications, aches and pains?

Yoongi knew the full story now. Terrifying to admit your fault, any measure of it, because you never liked to show him what being broken looked like. Some measure of personal freedom exercised, but with the wrong heart in mind, because he would never judge anything you had to say and instead, simply listen. He was always an older soul than you ever tried to be and he knew it, rugged wisdom at its finest. But ultimately, he only knew what he was told or taught, and there you were, spilling the unmangled truth to him on a Wednesday morning over two cups of chamomile tea.

Coming to grasp with imperfections is part of the cursed struggle of being human, of embracing those little nicks and dashes that make us who we are. It does not mean we are loved any less, but loved because of them; none of us are angels. These messes are our measures, our faults and our pleasures. How terrifying it all is, being ourselves. Being raw and vulnerable and attacking those thoughts that weigh heavy on our consciousness, day after day.

And it is easy to wonder if you matter through all of this, through the chaos of that inner dialogue. It’s moments like these that put those perspectives into frame, click them like camera shutters pausing time to breathe and think. To look at the white-framed ink is to rewrite tangibility, printed blurry on those transparent rolls. Nothing is so unforgettable when it is angled just so.

In the evening, in the comforts of your apartment, you uncork a Polaroid from where it is hidden behind some cheery optimistic phrase you stole off of tumblr. Bullshit for the purpose it serves, painfully ironic for the task it demands. A picture of a boy with cherry-red hair and a boxy grin on his face, arms wrapped around you with all of the comforts and ease of home. There’s mirth in your eyes, sheer joy and laughter. No alcohol involved, just two people who found it easy to slip into each other’s company just-so. A jasper gem for you, polished to perfection and printed right underneath your fingertips.

Anxiety clenches at the base of your jaw, massages your throat with the cruelest intentions. You swallow it back.

The phone rings once.

Twice.

Crackles to life.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Taehyung?”

His voice melts through the receiver like buttery chocolate, smooth and warm. “You still have my phone number! Hello! I thought I’d never hear from you.”

“I-I’m sorry, what?” You blink in confusion, then shake your head. “Never mind.”

“I thought I’d never hear from you. That guy who picked you up didn’t seem to say much, but I figured you’d call eventually to say that you made it home safe. So I guess you did! And I’m glad.” You can hear Taehyung smiling through the phone, easy inflections of speech.

“Yeah.” You fidget, playing with the edge of your sleeve. Now or never. “Taehyung, I owe you an apology.”

This is the first time he falters, hints at something deeper. “What for?”

You take a deep breath. “You were kind to me. And I didn’t recognize it for what it was at the time, so I was a complete asshole to you. And I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it was the least I could do! Nobody deserves to be stuck in the pouring rain—”

“I’m not talking about the rainstorm.”

He stutters. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Taehyung.”

He’s quiet. It is terrifying.

“Taehyung, both of us know what I mean.”

You momentarily wonder if the line has gone dead. Perhaps it has. A saving grace, and then that deep timbre crackles to life on the other side. You nearly miss what he says.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispers.

“You were kind to me,” you stutter. “Kind to me; so, so kind. And I didn’t recognize it for what it was w-when you gave it to me. And I was a complete asshole to you. I’m sorry.” You wait for something, anything, but he gives no intention, and you continue. “Taehyung, you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was so terrified that I stuffed it away into some far-off corner and tried to pretend that it wasn’t happening. I turned so much outward onto you that you didn’t deserve because I didn’t know how to be good enough for someone like you. I took you for granted, Taehyung, the exact opposite of everything I should have done. You glow like the literal fucking sun, and I’m a little cloud drifting through the sky. I should’ve let you shine through me, but instead, I just blocked you out. And I’m sorry,” you confess, the tension in your shoulders collapsing. “I’m sorry.”

For the first time in weeks you wish you could see him in front of you, gauge his reactions like barometric pressure, but instead he’s across town and you are here, feeling ever-so-small in spite of yourself. It was easy to read what he was thinking, painted across his face in swaths of joy and sadness and everything in between, but here, he gave away nothing.

Please say something, Taehyung. Please say anything.

“Ideal weather,” he murmurs.

“W-What?”

“A sun without clouds in the sky shines blindingly. Clouds temper all that light; certainly we don’t need all of it.” It sounds so cheesy, some Shakespearean verse he quotes from off the top of his head, but it is the closest thing he’ll phrase to acceptance, and you swallow down a relieved sob. He calls you by name then, lets it ring warm and sweet, the way he used to say it. With life, energy, everything it lacked simply because it rang from all the wrong mouths till then. “Everything happens for a reason. You did the best you could. It just didn’t work out at the time.”

“Taehyung, it’s okay to blame me. It’s okay to say that I was the one who fucked it all up, not you. For god’s sakes, you never did anything wrong. It was always my insecurity, my mistakes—”

“You’re only human. You did the best that you could, just as I did. Who could blame you for that?” Taehyung’s words seep heat into your bones, calm your trembling fingers. “I couldn’t. Nobody could. I certainly don’t think any less of you for it. None of us are angels; we did our best with what we had. And that’s alright.”

You can’t help but laugh, dry, monosyllabic. “You handled this so much remarkably better than I did, god.”

He’s breathy with amusement. “It took a little while.”

“I could imagine.”

He hums. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Your index finger finds the edges of the instant photo. His smile catches in the light of your desk lap. “There’s another reason I called.”

“That wasn’t it?”

“Believe it or not, no.” You trace his shoulders, the planes of his chest. “I just wanted to say. I have a Polaroid of us from July, from that bonfire that Jeongguk had with like fifty people down at the beach. I kept it, selfishly. It’s been pinned up on my bulletin board behind another piece of paper. But I took it out today. And I think I might pin it up in front now.”

“Oh, the cherry red hair.” The fondness seeps through the receiver. “I loved that night.”

“Me too,” you admit. A beat of silence. “Goodnight, Taehyung. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re hanging up already?”

“What?” You nearly sputter.

“I haven’t gotten to talk about the Polaroids I kept, too.”

There are two ways to fundamentally seduce Kim Taehyung: make his coffee exactly how he likes it, or play with his hair while he’s lying on your chest. Both of which you achieved, and both of which led to your current predicament.

But we’ll rewind a bit.

That phone call, the first of many, lasted into the early hours of the morning, that sacred time that you both hold dear. It tasted like nostalgia and fondness, feelings you corked and bottled out of fear of what might lie on the other side. But in this case, the other side was a friend and more, a living history book for all of the cracks in between. And he simply adored filling them in.

That lazy afternoon where you planned on having a date at the park, but it had poured rain nearly as intense as the day you reconnected with him. You danced in between the raindrops instead, bare feet on the gravely asphalt, wishing you could touch heaven and so you kissed the boy whose cheeks were between your palms. The spontaneous road trip you took to the next big city over, five hours away, simply because for the first time in so long, you had nowhere to be but with each other. Hands held between library shelves, firelight’s glow on faces untouched. Sharing a tuft of blue cotton candy with sticky fingers, talking about everything and nothing under the moonlit, cloudless sky. For every instant photo saved were memories tenfold that he plucked from that mind of his like stars placed in the breadth of the cosmos.

One phone call became two, became four. Became texting over a break at work, FaceTiming over dinner. Became meeting each other for a late breakfast, studying at the cafe for an early afternoon cup of espresso. Depth and understanding, and Taehyung is slotting into your life without a second thought, as easily as you’re slipping into his. You let him this time, so much smoother than before. You want him to.

Neither of you can deny what it is happening, but neither of you can find a complaint to lodge. So when he asks you out, fingers entwined over the metal arm of the park bench, a bouquet of sunflowers tucked next to you, he already knows what your answer will be.

Indeed, there are two fundamental ways to seduce Kim Taehyung, and as a master of both of them, it is only a matter of time before you find yourselves at the foot of your bed; he pulls you closer to press his lips to your own. He tastes like cappuccino and chocolate and you’re humming into the kiss, shuddering underneath him. He still knows your body, every divet, every edge. He never stopped loving it— never stopped loving you.

He worships the way he loves— selflessly, giving every ounce of himself without abandon or question. When he eases himself between your thighs, the look in his eyes is nothing short of sinful adoration, seeking out every secret to your pleasure. It’s ingrained in his memory, the way you gasp or grab his hair when his fingers dance along your skin; he couldn’t forget it even if he tried. It is worth every wince as your digits tug at his scalp; he swallows down everything you give him and begs for more, more, more.

And likewise you lavish him, devoting minutes to dot his heaving ribs with kisses, stroking comforting palms down his sinewy thighs. Taehyung is every work of art you have wanted to see in a museum, living, breathing, merely mortal but so much more. So vibrant, so raw.

And afterwards you lie together, unable to tell where he begins and you end. Breathing in the heat, piecing each other together in the silent din. Clothes are tossed about the room; you can’t find it in you to care. You turn to him, caress his cheek, run a thumb over his lips. “Stay here tonight. Please.”

He smiles and your thumb brushes his teeth, boxy and exposed through the gap of his grin. “Was the overnight bag not enough?”

“How did I not notice you packed an overnight bag?” You sit up, wrapping the blankets around your torso, scanning the room to spot his duffel.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, wraps himself around you like a human koala. “I’m very good at being sneaky.”

“Mm, I noticed.” There it is, against your dresser. Your heart swells, fit to burst.

“Come to bed,” Taehyung hums, gritty, a little seductive. It sends a chill down your spine. You don’t think it’s meant to. Your fingers find his own and knit together over his knuckles.

“I’m right here, sunshine.”

He kisses behind your ear, the gentlest of intentions. “I love you,” he whispers. “Come to bed.”

You squeeze over his hand. Everything left unsaid, in the space of a breath. Two. “I love you too,” you whisper. “And I will always be here, loving you, with everything I could possibly give you. Every ounce of my heart. I love you.”

He squeezes back, wraps the blanket around your frame, tucks you in tight. He kisses your shoulder with lips of silk, and you roll on your side to get comfortable, his arm draped over your waist.

Against the far wall, propped up on his duffel, lies a pair of Converse sneakers, as scuffed and beaten as they were saturated with rain, on the day you fell in love with Kim Taehyung all over again.

#btswritersnet #bts #bts fluff #bts smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #kpop fluff #kpop smut #exes to lovers au #outroshooky

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hollyxqx · 5 years

Text

playing with fire // yoongi // 04

↪ PARING: Min Yoongi x Reader ↪ GENRE: angst » smut » idol!au » enemies to lovers ↪ SUMMARY: Yoongi hates you. Or at least he thinks he does. (AKA the one where you work for BigHit and Yoongi is bad at feelings). ↪ WORD COUNT: 6.7k ↪ WARNINGS: heavy angst | sex | secret relationships | jealousy | mild possessive behaviour

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

Over the next few months Yoongi and you began to text back and forth. He couldn't help but feel a little thrill every time his phone pinged and your name popped up on the notification. You were just as busy - if not busier - than he was, so often the replies could be sporadic and at odd times in the day but he appreciated each one.

Yoongi had found out from Namjoon that your birthday was approaching and he had an idea. He was actually going to show you a genuine sign of affection. It made him feel anxious and weird but with Namjoon's encouragement he was going to commit and do it.

"Do you know where she's staying?" Namjoon asked discreetly as the two boys made themselves comfortable in their plane seats. They were flying to America and had 14 hours to kill.

"Yeah." Yoongi nodded, unravelling his headphone wire. Namjoon was fishing through his backpack, no doubt looking for a book. "She's in the States too. Chicago."

"It makes it sound like she's close but America is massive."

"I know." He muttered. "I don't even remember when she was last in Korea."

"So what's your plan for the birthday then?" Namjoon asked, pulling out not one but three books. Yoongi fought the urge to roll his eyes at the overkill. Classic Joon.

"Tell me if this is lame, and don't lie," Yoongi began, feeling a little shy at the prospect of what he was about to say. "I'm going to send flowers and champagne to her hotel room. I also got her a gift."

"What's the gift?" Namjoon asked, eyebrows arching in surprise. Yoongi shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"It's a limited edition signed copy of an album she loves. It's vinyl that's out of print." He said quickly, hoping it would make his confession seem less pathetic is he said them faster. "We also saw them live...together."

"Awwww, hyung!" Namjoon exclaimed, punching Yoongi affectionately in the arm. "Who knew you could be so cute?!"

"Shut up." Yoongi grumbled, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Cutie. Cutie pie Yoongi."

"I won't hesitate to murder you on this plane Joonie." Yoongi warned. Namjoon just grinned wider. He slipped an arm around Yoongi's shoulder and squeezed, practically squealing with glee.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day of Min Yoongi being an adorable sweetheart, all for a girl." Namjoon said as he dodged Yoongi's incoming smack to chest. "It's nice hyung. I think she'll really like it."

"I hope so."

They settled in for the international flight, Yoongi with his music on and Namjoon with his face buried in a book. Somewhere a few rows behind them he could already hear Taehyung snoring and Jimin complaining. It was going to be a long journey.

***

Yoongi watched the rookie boy group you managed on YouTube on the ride to the hotel, ignoring the rest of his bandmates. They were bundled into a minivan rather quickly after landing to avoid the crowds at the airport. He'd just spent 14 hours with his group, he could do with some quiet time alone. Taehyung had alcohol on the plane and was too giddy for his liking, talking too fast and giggling.

The group were called TXT. They looked young, but Yoongi was never great at guessing someone's age. He was watching a backstage vlog that one of the boys filmed. He would never admit it but he was looking for you in the background. It didn't take long for him to spot you, laughing and joking with the main rapper. An ugly feeling roared in him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

You wore the same leather jacket he's seen you in a thousand times, the one adorned with cute metal pins. Your hair was longer and lighter than he remembered. You looked like you. The same, but slightly different.

He watched the video in its entirety, keeping a careful eye out for you in the background, occasionally catching a glimpse. It made him feel slightly voyeuristic, but it was the only way he could see you. Your instagram that he sometimes lurked had been made private (much to his dismay) and he wanted to know what your were up to.

"What's that?" Jin asked, nudging Yoongi with his elbow, gesturing to the phone screen.

"Nothing," Yoongi replied quickly, locking the screen so it went black. Jin eyed him suspiciously.

"That looked like TXT."

"How do you know that?!" Yoongi asked, incredulously.

"I recognised Soobin. I've spoken to him a couple times before they debuted." Jin explained.

"Oh."

"Nice kid. Didn't think he was your type though." Jin teased, a hint of amusement in his voice since Yoongi was obviously straight. "Unless...you're keeping tabs on y/n."

He felt his face flush with embarrassment getting caught in the act of snooping. It was intended to be a private thing he'd never admit to. "I was just checking out our competition hyung. These kids are the next generation." It wasn't the most convincing lie he's ever told but it was all he could come up with on the spot. Jin bit back a smirk.

"If you say so."

***

The sound of a ringing cellphone stirred Yoongi out of the sleep he'd accidentally fallen in to. After being in America for several days the jet lag was taking its toll and what was supposed to be a short rest on the sofa backstage turned in to a full on nap. Bleary eyed and still half asleep he fished through his pocket to find the device. When your name popped up on the screen he was instantly wide awake.

"Hello?" He answered, somewhat cautiously.

"Min Yoongi you are terrible."

Perhaps it was the fact that he'd just woken up but he was instantly confused. "Huh? What?"

"My gift!" You exclaimed and it suddenly clicked in his mind that yesterday was your birthday and you received the present he sent. For a horrible moment his heart sank, thinking you didn't like it. "I can't believe you did that."

"Did what?" He played dumb.

"Got me one of the most thoughtful birthday presents ever." He swore you were smiling as you spoke. "I was so shocked when the delivery guy knocked on my hotel door."

"I wanted to surprise you." He laughed a little. "It's not a surprise if you know it's happening."

"Well, you certainly did. I'm still in shock." You joked. "I just called to say thank you. It's perfect."

"You're welcome."

"I'm saving the champagne though."

"Why?" He asked. He had wanted you to enjoy it.

"For when we see each other next. We can share it." You explained. Yoongi bit back the huge smile that was tugging at his lips. "You know, we will be at the LA KCON at the same time right?"

He didn't actually know that. Yoongi wasn't the most organised person in the world, relying on the team around him to tell him where to be and when. He was aware KCON was approaching but that was it.

"This is news to me." He said and you laughed, knowing from experience just how he was with his schedule. "We probably won't have time to see each other though."

"Let's make time then." You sounded so confident and assured it took him aback. A part of him didn't expect you to want to see him, that you were comfortable with being just acquaintances and nothing more. It made him happy that you were insistent.

"There's the eager y/n I know." At the mention of your name Namjoon's head whipped round and his eyes locked with Yoongi's, a keen look on his face. No doubt Yoongi would get a million questions once the phone call ended. He looked away, trying to ignore the eyes on him.

"So wanting to see my friend is eager?" You played along. Although he couldn't deny the friend comment stung a bit. He fought the urge to make a dirty innuendo knowing Namjoon was within earshot.

"It is when you have more important things to do."

"Shut up. I know you want to see me too."

"I'm just coming for the champagne." He teased. He imagined the eye roll you were no doubt giving him right now. "Did you have a nice birthday?"

"Well," You sighed. "I worked twelve hours and had one of my boys injure himself then spent three hours in an emergency room."

"That sounds like a nightmare."

"It was. Your gift made my day worth it though."

Yoongi felt his chest swell with pride. That was exactly the reaction he had hoped for and he was glad he took the risk in the first place. The two of you chatted for a little longer before you had to go, duty calling you. When you hung up the phone he caught himself smiling a little too much and it was only when Namjoon laughed and threw a packet of snacks at him did he snap out of his daze.

"You look lovesick." Namjoon grinned, ducking when Yoongi threw the snacks back. "It's soooooo cute!"

"I'm not!"

Jimin walked over and flopped down on the sofa next to him, leaning his head on the older male's shoulder. "Were you talking to y/n?" He asked, yawning sleepily. Yoongi wasn't the only one suffering with the time difference.

"Uh, yeah." He replied, shifting so he was comfortable as well.

"Yoongi hyung is in love." Namjoon announced making Jimin snicker.

"I know, I saw him smiling from over there." Jimin replied. "It's the most I've ever seen you smile, hyung."

"So now I can't smile without everyone getting on my case?" Yoongi muttered with a frown but his bandmates just laughed. They continued to tease him throughout the day but he took it on the chin. It didn't matter, because he'd get to see you soon and that in itself was worth the mocking. Just.

***

Two weeks passed in a flash, and before he knew it Yoongi was checking into an L.A hotel room the night before KCON. Fortunately he was sharing with Namjoon which guaranteed a good nights rest. Together they dumped their stuff in the room and settled in for the night.

"Yoongi-hyung," Namjoon yawned, stretching on the opposite twin bed. "Shall we order room service?" He fumbled with the hotel menu.

Yoongi mumbled something in agreement as he checked his phone for the umpteenth time, to see if you had texted. You hadn't. He tossed his phone to the side, mentally cursing himself for being so affected by the lack of attention.

"Oh, Jin-hyung is joining us." Namjoon said, momentarily distracting Yoongi from his thoughts. "He met up with the TXT guys and he's on his way back, said he'd stop by."

Yoongi felt his stomach flip. "TXT?"

"Yeah they're staying at this hotel also." That meant you were staying at this hotel too. Combined with the fact that you hadn't got in contact only made him feel worse. His insides churned.

Jin joined them some time later after their food had arrived. He sat on Namjoon's bed as Yoongi and Namjoon tucked in to their food, face buried in his phone. "Those rookie kids are a mess." He told no one in particular. "They're so nervous for their interview tomorrow."

"Really?" Namjoon laughed, sipping some water. "Is it because they don't speak english?"

"Yeah." Jin replied. "I told them they'd be fine, Yoongi sucks at English and he manages."

"Your English is terrible too." Yoongi protested with a glare, both Jin and Namjoon laughed.

"I ran into y/n, too." Jin said, startling Yoongi a little. "She says hello."

That's it? That's the entire message? Yoongi frowned. He had expected something a little more, at least. Pushing the thought from his mind he attempted to distract himself with his meal. Once he was finished and still thoroughly focused on the sting of mild rejection he excused himself from Jin and Namjoon with the excuse of needing some fresh air. He decided a late night walk might clear his head.

Sejin would not be best pleased that Yoongi was walking around late at night, unaccompanied. What the manager didn't know couldn't hurt him, Yoongi thought as he made his way down to the swimming pool area. It was void of any other hotel guests given the lateness of the hour. It was peaceful.

The pool had lights underneath the water, giving it a relaxing glow. Combined with a cool breeze in the warm night air it was enjoyable. Yoongi sat on the edge of one of the sun loungers, leaning on his knees. It felt almost surreal to be literally in the same building as you but unable to see you.

He was unsure how much time had passed as he sat there, overthinking. "Namjoon told me you went for a walk, I figured you'd be here."

Yoongi looked up to see you standing there, a sweet smile on your face. It had been so long since he'd seen you in the flesh for a moment he thought he was dreaming. "How'd you know?" He smirked.

"I know you." You said simply. "You wouldn't go too far because you wouldn't want to piss off Sejin, you like quiet places so the hotel is a no and you like looking at the sky. So, hence the pool."

"Am I that predictable?"

"I wish you were." You teased. "Still, it's nice to see you."

"You too." He replied quietly. "Sit with me."

You did as he asked, mimicking his position on the sun lounger opposite. He swivelled round so he was facing you rather than the pool. Your knees brushed up against each other as he moved. "How are you? It's been a while..."

"Same old Yoongi, you know me." He couldn't help but study your entire face as he talked, like it was the first time seeing you again. "What about you, Miss Manager?"

"I'm so busy I think I've aged 5 years in the last 5 months." You sighed. "Right now is the first moment of the day I've had to myself." The thought that you came looking for him the second you could made up for the lack of communication from you earlier.

"Thanks for stalking me when you could, I guess." He taunted. You rolled your eyes but with a smile on your face, nudging him playfully with your knee. He noticed you shivered slightly. You were only in a shirt. "Are you cold?"

"I'm fine." You insisted. As if on cue you shivered again. Yoongi didn't need to think twice, he was slipping out of his oversized bomber jacket and leaning across the gap between you, slipping it around your shoulders. "No, Yoongi. Now you'll be cold." You tried to shrug the jacket off but he held it shut at the front of your chest.

"Don't worry about me." He held your gaze for a moment, enjoying just being in close proximity to you. He could smell your perfume this close. It was familiar, images of you underneath him in various locations flashed through his mind.

"Thank you." You almost whispered. Yoongi didn't let go of the jacket.

"Y/N?" He wasn't sure what he was asking. You looked from his eyes to his lips and then back again. He knew you were thinking exactly what he was. It was as if you were both magnets, being pulled in towards each other when your lips met. Delicate at first, tentative, almost nervous. Like a first kiss. His hand slipped from your front to slide up the side of your neck, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

Unwillingly he pulled away, some rational part of his brain kicking into gear telling him how reckless it was to kiss you in a public space, even if it was deserted. It was always possible someone might be watching.

"Wow," You said breathlessly and he smirked. "It's been...a while since we've done that."

The two of you shared a small, slightly embarrassed laugh.

"I couldn't help it. Sorry."

"I liked it."

"I like you." Yoongi said without thinking, caught up in the moment. Your cheeks tinged pink at his declaration.

"Still?" You asked, avoiding his gaze shyly. "I thought you would have found some other staff member to fool around with by now."

"Nah, Sejin's not my type." He joked. "You are."

"I like it when you're like this Yoongi."

"Like what?"

"Nice." You squeezed his knee affectionately. He placed his hand on top of yours.

"Are you sharing a room tonight?" He asked. "I believe I was promised some champagne."

You grinned. "No, I'm alone tonight. Shall we go up?" He nodded and followed you inside.

***

Your hotel room was smaller than Yoongi's, given that it only had one double bed instead of two singles. Not that he cared. The second the door clicked shut he caged you in against the wood, palms pressed either side of your face. He wasn't going to wait a second longer. He couldn't wait a second longer.

His lips attached themselves to yours greedily, pressing his body into you as he kisses you. Yoongi can't help it, months of pent up want and frustration clouding his mind. You seemed just as desperate also, hands already sliding up the sides of his shirt to touch the bare skin underneath.

"You have no - " He kissed the side of your mouth. " - idea - " His lips moved to your jaw. "- how fucking badly - " Mouth on your neck he sucked the skin between his teeth, nipping at the flesh ever so slightly. "- I've wanted this."

You moaned in response, squeezing his sides. "Me too."

Briefly, he pulled away stripping his jacket and your t-shirt off of you practically growling at the sight of your tits. His memory of them was good but nothing compared to the real thing. He kissed them as he unclasped your bra, hands instinctively cupping them once they were free.

He dropped to his knees, pulling down your leggings and panties, giving you a moment to step out of them leaving you completely bare. Yoongi stayed in this position but hooked one of your thighs up and over his shoulder before diving straight to your leaking core and slipping his tongue between the folds. He felt you almost lose your balance, overcome with the sensation.

"Your pussy is perfect." He said, pushing a finger into you. "I've been fucking dreaming about it."

Your laugh turned into a long moan when he resumed licking your clit, pumping his finger in time with his mouth. Hands tangled in his hair, encouraging him as your hips rocked against his face. After he added a second finger it didn't take long for you to cum hard against his tongue. Yoongi groaned feeling you clench around him. He looked up at you, smirking.

"Jesus christ, Yoongi." You sighed, chest and cheeks both flushed from your orgasm.

"Good?"

"Better than good. Perfect. Amazing." You laughed making him chuckle. He removed his fingers from you and stood, kissing you sweetly on the lips. "Can you get naked now?" You whined. He nodded but didn't move right away, embedding the memory of you naked and pressed up against the door into his brain.

He shed his jeans and t-shirt quickly and you couldn't resist palming his cock over his boxers. Yoongi placed his hand over yours, kissing you deeply as you worked him. His cock was rock hard and any bit of relief felt amazing. "Where do you want it?" He hummed against your lips.

"Anywhere. Just want you."

He walked you backwards to the bed, pushing you on to the soft mattress and ridding himself of his last remaining piece of clothing. His knee went between your thighs spreading them open as he settled between them. Suddenly he remembered that it had been months since he'd last slept with you. It's possible you had had a partner or worse, partners since him.

"Do I need a condom?" He asked in a low voice. You bit your lip and shook your head no.

"Not if you don't want to. You're the only one I've been with in ages."

A wild possessive part of him roared to life, pleased that no one else had got to have you like this. His cock teased at your entrance and you moaned loudly when he dipped the tip of it inside you teasingly. "You want me huh?" He smirked. "Want me to fuck you like old times?"

"Don't care. I need you Yoongi." You whined with a buck of your hips, trying to encourage him as you clung to his shoulders desperately.

He pushed his entire length in agonisingly slowly causing you to practically whimper as you adjusted to his size. Stilling for a moment buried to the hilt he paused, savouring the moment as you made eye contact. "You're so beautiful y/n." He said quietly. Before you could reply he rocked his hips, delighted at the way your eyes closed in pleasure.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck as he glided in and out of you, going much slower than usual. Yoongi didn't want the moment to end. His orgasm was already bubbling under the surface and he was fighting not to come too early. "How does it feel baby?" He hadn't meant to use the pet name but it just slipped out. In this moment it felt like you were his.

"So good, Yoongi." You moaned. "I want more. Harder, fuck me harder."

Yoongi gave in immediately moving just as you had begged him to. He found the spot in you that made your eyes roll and he drove into it relentlessly, determined to make you fall apart again. "Feels so good. Pussy so tight and wet for me." He grunted.

"For you." You repeated with a gasp. "I'm always so wet for you Yoongi."

"Fuck yeah you are." His pace quickened and when he felt you lock your legs around his waist he knew you were about to come. Angling his hips so that his body was pressed against your clit you cried out his name as you orgasmed. "I'm cumming too, fuck." He groaned, loudly into your neck as he spilled cum into you, eventually slowing his motions to a stop.

Once both of you had regained your breath he rolled off of you, laying on the bed beside you. He didn't know what possessed him but he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together, wanting some kind of closeness still.

To his surprise you nuzzled in to him, placing a small kiss on his jaw. "That was amazing. I can barely think straight."

"I missed that." He mused. You gave him another kiss before rolling of the bed and heading to the bathroom to clean up. Yoongi lay on the bed, body and mind not entirely back to normal yet. He was still in the same position when you returned a few minutes later. "Come here." He said lowly, opening his arms to you.

You crawled into them, placing a head on his chest. Yoongi pulled the comforter over your naked bodies. "Don't you have to go?" You asked.

"Yeah. At some point. Not yet though." He replied, pulling you close. This was unfamiliar to him, you'd never really cuddled together after sex before. This time it was different and he knew it. Things had changed. He'd allowed himself to be more open to you and in return you'd let him in again.

"You're so much nicer to be around when you're not pretending to hate me." You teased, a gleeful tint in your eye. You went to poke his chest but he grabbed your hand before you got the chance to.

"It doesn't give you licence to be the mean one."

You just smiled at him and went quiet for a few moments. "Is everything you said before still true? About liking me?"

Yoongi gulped, suddenly feeling very nervous and vulnerable again. "Yes."

"You know I like you too, right?"

"In that conversation you literally said you hated me." He laughed.

"I was angry at you!"

"Still."

"Over the past few months you've just been different. I like this side of you. You're sweet. You just have this icy exterior sometimes and I don't know why." You said softly. Yoongi was half embarrassed, half secretly pleased at your compliment. "The first time I met you I thought you were so intimidating." You chuckled.

"Seriously?" He scoffed. "Why?"

"You didn't smile once the entire meeting. And you're hot."

Yoongi recalled that day in his mind, being dragged to lunch, annoyed with himself at how attractive he found you. "I remember being annoyed at how pretty you are." He smiled.

"Annoyed?! Why?"

"Because I wanted you and I couldn't deal with it." He laughed at himself. "Idiot, huh?"

"Yeah, kinda." You joined in his laughter. "It makes sense now."

"What does?"

"Your weird hot and cold behaviour. You didn't want to like me. Technically you're not allowed to like me. I get it now. You were just conflicted."

"So you're not mad anymore?" He smirked.

"No." You smiled.

"When can I see you again?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"Maybe we can find some time tomorrow?" You offered. Yoongi nodded.

"Tomorrow."

*** Yoongi regretfully tiptoed out of your room some time after you'd fallen asleep, holding back a silent smile at the untouched bottle of champagne sitting in the mini fridge. You'd both known it was only an excuse to be together anyway. He gave your sleeping form one last glance on the way out, a wave of affection surging through his chest.

Namjoon stirred when Yoongi re-entered their shared suite. The room was in darkness and the younger male sleepily flicked his bedside light on. "Whoosere?" He mumbled, half sitting up in bed. Yoongi tried not to laugh at the irony of asking that question with your eyes closed.

"It's me, Namjoon." Yoongi whispered, quietly crossing over to him.

"What time is it?"

"Late. Go back to sleep." He leaned over Namjoon to flick his light back off but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Were you with y/n?" Namjoon asked, voice still husky with sleep. He yawned and Yoongi nodded, opting to sit on the side of his friends bed. "How was it?" Namjoon smirked.

"Fine." Yoongi tried to bite back yet another smile.

"Fine?" Namjoon smirked harder.

"I'm back in the good books, if that's what you mean."

"And it's all thanks to Kim Namjoon: part time idol, part time therapist." Namjoon teased with a small laugh. It was no secret to Yoongi how much help and advice his younger (but wise beyond his years) bandmate had offered him. Not that he was about to give him all the credit.

"Yeah, yeah." He said, pretending to roll his eyes. "You're a genius."

"Why does it feel like you're being sarcastic?" Namjoon joked. He sat up straighter in bed, feeling a little more awake. "What happens with you and her now? Are you dating?"

"I don't know." Yoongi answered truthfully. "It's not like either of us have much time for it. After tomorrow I don't know when I will even see her again." He sighed.

"You could always do the long distance thing." Namjoon offered, ever the optimist. Yoongi knew that with his lifestyle and career that is almost always the only option he has when it comes to dating. The risks of getting caught get substantially higher however. At least one night stands and flings are easier to keep from the public. Although he can't remember the last time he had one of those before you.

"Yeah, maybe." He said quietly.

"Hyung, you don't see it but you're totally different when you talk to her. All of us have noticed it. She makes you happy. Someone like that might be worth struggling for."

Yoongi sat silently, letting the weight of Namjoon's words sink in. He certainly had a point. "Yeah." Is all he can manage to get out, suddenly feeling a little emotional.

Namjoon finally looked at the alarm clock and swore loudly as he registered the time. "We have to be up in two hours, sorry Yoongi but therapy hours are over."

Yoongi laughed a little before wishing him goodnight and climbing into his own bed, trying not to overthink things as usual.

*** He knew he was being ridiculous. Logically, he understood why he was feeling that way. But it didn't help quell the bitter, ugly emotion rising like bile in his throat at the sight of you being affectionate with a man that wasn't him. Yoongi was jealous.

The unidentified male was a member of staff and foreign, like you. Yoongi guessed he was a sound engineer by the headphones and clipboard he had. You were laughing together, his arm loosely slung around your waist. It made Yoongi feel insecure - another ugly emotion he hated admitting to - maybe you liked this man more than him. Surely it would be easier for you to be with someone who spoke your native tongue.

Surely you'd want to be with someone who can openly put his arm around you like that.

He turned away and frowned, unwilling to watch anymore. His chest felt hot and tight. Jimin was talking as they waited in the backstage corridor and he tried desperately to focus on him but his brain was screaming at him to peek back at you again. He caved.

The guy held you in an embrace now that looked a little too intimate for Yoongi's liking. Before he could stop himself he was walking, headed in your direction, ignoring Jimin call his name.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but can I please talk to y/n?" He found himself asking you and the stranger. You looked completely startled.

"Uh, s-sure Yoongi." You said cautiously. "Andy, excuse me for a minute. I'll come find you later?" You told your friend. Even that sentence annoyed Yoongi. 'Andy' just smiled and nodded, stepping away to give you and Yoongi some privacy.

"Follow me." Yoongi told you, and although you still looked incredibly confused you did as he asked. He walked briskly, taking a turn down the hallway he remembered BangTan's dressing room was down. He stopped at the door opposite, looked left and right to ensure the hallway was empty and roughly dragged you inside.

"Yoongi what's going on?" You exclaimed. "This is a bathroom." You pointed out as you took in your surroundings. Yoongi shut and locked the door behind him. "Why - "

Yoongi couldn't help himself, before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you and roughly pushed you up against the door, his lips going straight to yours. Instinctively you kissed him back, so familiar with having your lips on his. His hands held your wrists up against the cool metal of the door.

"Who was he?" He asked gruffly, pressing his entire body in to yours, chest to chest, dark eyes boring into you.

"Who?"

"Andy." He frowned. "I thought you hadn't been with anyone but me."

"He's my friend." You say quietly. "What's the issue?"

"He didn't look like a friend." Yoongi scoffed. His head dipped down to capture your lips again in a heated kiss. He let go of the vice grip on your hands and gripped your hips, pulling you into him. "You let all your friends touch you like that?" He murmured as he pulled away, opting to kiss his way to your neck.

"Like what Yoongi?" You replied breathlessly. "I didn't do anything."

"He was all over you." Yoongi said into your neck. He started to slowly suck on the tender flesh there, taking it gently between his teeth. He felt your breathing begin to labour as he popped open the button on your jeans.

"You can't leave a mark." You told him, almost in a moan. He just hummed in acknowledgement, already suspecting that it's too late for warnings considering the pace he was going.

"Do you want him to touch you here too?" He asked huskily as his hand slipped in front of your underwear, cupping your entire core. "Is he next, after me?" Yoongi asked, pulling away to look at you for an answer.

"It's not like t-that." You stuttered when he started to rub you over your panties. "Don't be jealous."

"Hmm," He said, pushing your underwear to the side so he was able to touch your bare skin, fingers going to your clit instantly. You hissed at the contact. "How can I not be huh?"

You were silent as Yoongi started to rotate his fingers, keeping a languid pace. His head fell to your neck and he resumed his work on red mark that was starting to form, deliberately ignoring your earlier warning. He was going to mark you. If he couldn't have you publicly this was the next best thing.

"Yoongi," You whined, trying to wiggle away from him but he only held you tighter.

"This is so Andy can see he can't touch you like that." He growled, fingers beginning to go ever so slightly faster. Once he was happy that he'd sucked a dark enough bruise into you he pulled back, returning to your lips. "I want you." He breathed. "You have no idea how badly I want you. The way you look is so unfair."

You were too turned on to be mad at him. "I have an idea of how much." You smirked, rolling your hips into his very prominent erection.

"Do you have time to do this here?" He asked lowly.

"No," You murmured, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure - his hand hadn't stopped its ministrations. "But I want it. I want you too."

In one quick motion Yoongi withdrew his hand and flipped you around so that your chest was flush with the door. Your jeans were soon pushed down to your knees before he nudged apart your feet with one swift push of his thigh. "Put your hands on the door and don't move them."

He was quick to pull his cock out and push in to you. There was no time for teasing and foreplay, Yoongi was sure it wouldn't be long before people started looking for both of you. He set a brutal pace and you were gasping beneath him, hands balling into fists against the door.

"No one fucks you like this, do they?" He panted, squeezing your hips for emphasis.

"Fuck - fuck, no." You choked out. "They don't - ugh - it's just you."

"Good girl." He's close now, hips relentlessly smacking against your ass. "I want you to cum, show me you're not lying. Show me I don't have a reason to be jealous again."

"Yoongi." You moaned loudly. He hoped there was no one on the other side of the door because you definitely would have been heard. "You don't have a reason to be jealous."

"Give it to me." He groaned. "Fucking give it to me, cum for me."

He drove in to you with such a force you stumbled a little, catching yourself on the door. You didn't have time to tell him you were cumming but he could feel it, pussy clenching tightly around him. Yoongi barely let you ride out your orgasm before he was cumming himself, as deep inside you as ever.

His head fell against your back as you both panted, spent. "Didn't take you to be the jealous type." You breathed with a laugh. He carefully pulled out of and went to grab some nearby tissue.

"I didn't like people touching you like that." He grumbled, unwilling to meet your eye as he handed you something to wipe down with. He felt stupid for letting his emotions get the better of him.

"You've got nothing to worry about." You said as you cleaned yourself. "There's no one else. I'm not sleeping with anyone else, that wasn't a lie."

"That might change though." Yoongi said, more so to himself as if he just realised it for the first time.

"If it does, you'll be the first to know." You pulled your jeans upwards as you walked to the mirror to fix your hair. "Jesus christ, my neck Yoongi!" You exclaimed, straining to see the darkening red mark. He peered at it behind you. That would definitely bruise, he thought hiding his grin.

"You can hide it with your hair." He shrugged.

As soon as the two of you were back to being presentable, Yoongi peeked out the door first to ensure a discreet getaway for you both. The coast appeared clear and he slipped out, you close behind. Before you went your separate ways you grabbed his hand. "Steal some of my time later?" You ask.

"Of course." He said and you smiled. As he started to walk away you shouted something that made him feel half embarrassed, half relieved.

"By the way, that guy I was with? He's gay!"

***

After the performance there were several press junkets the BangTan had to attend. Yoongi always found them marginally draining, especially in foreign countries. His English wasn't fantastic (although it had improved vastly since debut days) and it took a lot of mental strength to remain focused. Since they were the main act of KCON they had the most interviews. He was glad when they were over.

It was evening time when they arrived back at the hotel. He'd made plans with Namjoon and Jungkook to do some writing with a few ideas Jungkook had. Yoongi felt like a proud older brother whenever Jungkook took an interest in this side of making music. They holed up in him and Namjoon's room to work.

Yoongi was trying his best to text you discretely, keeping his phone turned away from his bandmates as best he could. He was making an attempt to meet you later, given that the next day would be the last of yours in LA. However it didn't work, Jungkook caught him rather easily.

"Yoongi hyung we're supposed to be working." Jungkook reprimanded from behind his macbook as he sat cross legged on the bed.

"Two guesses as to who he's texting." Namjoon smirked, exchanging knowing looks with Jungkook.

"Shut up." Mumbled Yoongi. "I can do two things at once."

"Like waiting to perform and fucking a bathroom?" Namjoon snickered, already laughing at Yoongi's wide eyed stare. "You idiot."

"What?!" Jungkook exclaimed, a shocked expression appearing on his face.

"I sincerely regret sharing that with you Namjoon, you dick." Yoongi swore at him.

"You are crazy, hyung." Jungkook replied with a shake of his head. "What if you'd got caught?!"

Yoongi just shrugged, trying to act like he didn't care. Obviously he would be mortified if he'd got caught but the truth was he didn't. "It was worth it. You'll know if you ever lose your virginity one day Kook." He grinned.

"I'm not a virgin!" Jungkook whined, making both the older boys laugh. He wasn't and hadn't been for a while but they still liked to tease him as he was the youngest. "I hate you guys."

"I won't judge you, it's okay." Yoongi teased.

"You should be careful though hyung, this girl is making you reckless." Namjoon warned, his tone a lot more serious now. "All jokes aside you shouldn’t pull a stunt like that again."

"God, ok. I won't. I won't even have the opportunity. She's leaving tomorrow."

"I know you like her, but don't let her make you stupid. Stop thinking with your dick."

"I think it's too late for that." Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

"Watch it, kid." Yoongi grumbled. He felt foolish knowing he let his bandmates, his leader down like that. Namjoon was right he shouldn't be so reckless. "Look, it won't happen again."

"You were lucky this time, Yoongi hyung. You might not be next time."

Yoongi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling anxiety constrict on his insides. He needed to be smarter about this before he risked his career any further.

chapter 03 ↩ ↪ chapter 05

masterlist

#bts fanfic #bts ff #bts fanfiction #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi ff #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi smut #yoongi angst

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actress4him · 4 years

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 9

I've gotten multiple requests (and one threat) for a part 2 of the previous chapter, and since I did enjoy writing that AU and already had somewhat of an idea of how it would continue in my head, I'm gonna try to write one. I'm currently writing Day 23, which means I have several prompt days left I can try to stick it in. If that doesn't work, I'll either do a bonus chapter at the end, or repost that fic separately with the second part added.

This one's definitely another dark one. I may have gotten slightly carried away with the whump. So make sure you check the warnings before you read! There's a lot of them! I also may have gotten slightly carried away with the syntax of these aliens...haha. We've got a little bit of Shiro in here, but mainly it's Red who gets her turn in the spotlight with Keith.

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Day 9 - “Take Me Instead”/Ritual Sacrifice

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: human sacrifice, alien religion, a little bit of fantastic racism, non- consensual drug use, lots of non-consensual touching (not sexual), death mention, forced stripping (not sexual), nudity (not sexual), very vague references to child abuse if you squint, drowning, fire, burns, wrist cutting (not self-harm), blood, wishing for death (not actual suicide ideation)

Of all possible ways to be woken up, the sound of Shiro struggling to breathe was certainly not one of Keith’s favorites. He was on his feet the moment his groggy brain realized what he was hearing, but was immediately put into the same headlock that he could see his roommate for the night in. It wasn’t often that someone could get the jump on either one of them. Keith was going to blame the fact that the cowards had struck while they were asleep.

The cowards, in this case, were the Luktorians, a race that had seemed perfectly nice up until this moment. A bit odd, perhaps, and difficult to understand - Lance kept insisting they sounded like drunk Yoda - but peaceful. They had rather human-looking faces, offset by the various shades of blue skin they sported and the fact that they had impossibly long and skinny necks and four arms. It was those four arms that held him in place now, one around his neck, one across his chest and shoulders, and two latched onto his wrists.

“Shh. You Paladin calm yourself must. Harm no mean we you.”

“If you don’t mean us harm, then why are you attacking us in our sleep?” Keith growled.

The alien holding Shiro spoke up. “Need only have we of him. Sleep may you.”

“I don’t think so.” Keith attempted to lunge forward, but made it nowhere. “What do you need him for? You’re not taking anybody anywhere without some answers!”

A slight smile came over the pale blue alien’s face. “Come have you at a time perfect. The night tonight of the sacrifice great is.”

Keith’s brain stuck on one word out of that gibberish. “Wait, sacrifice? What do you mean, what sacrifice?”

The Luktorian behind him bent his long neck forward to look him in the face. “A sacrifice it is for enemies our protection from. Away keeps the Galra the goddess great and harm us others who would.”

“Okay, we can understand that,” Shiro finally broke in, though he seemed to still be struggling with the arm that was around his throat. “But, uh...that’s what Voltron is here to do. Right? We’re making an alliance with your people so that we can keep the Galra away. S-so...maybe you don’t need a sacrifice this time.”

A stormy look came over both the alien’s faces. “Claim do you the goddess great with equal to be?”

“N-no, no, that’s not what I was saying.” Keith was glad that Shiro knew at all what they were accusing, because he was lost, himself. “I’m just...thinking that perhaps your goddess is the one who brought us here. Perhaps she’s already protecting you, using Voltron.”

They seemed to consider this for a moment, and Keith held his breath. “Perhaps,” one answered at last. “Must make we if so the goddess great a sacrifice to thank.”

Keith let out a groan. There didn’t seem to be any way they were getting out of this one easily. But they still hadn’t actually heard what this sacrifice actually entailed, so maybe there was hope yet, though based on the late night choke hold he wasn’t counting on it.

Shiro seemed to be on the same train of thought. “So, um...what exactly do you need us...me...to do? How can I help?”

His captor smiled again, and Keith decided he did not like that look at all. “Quietly must come you prepared the altar for to be. Short running time is.”

Shiro paled visibly even in the dim lighting. “Right. So...I’m the sacrifice.”

Keith lunged again. “No! You’re not sacrificing him, I won’t let you!”

The Luktorian tipped his head to the side and regarded him as if he was a child. “Warrior strong the Paladin Black is and ties to the Galra has close. A candidate perfect is he.”

As Keith continued to struggle, Shiro did his best to lock eyes with him. “Keith, it’s okay. We’ll...we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay.”

“No, it’s not okay, Shiro!” He had one more thing to try. It was a long shot, and Shiro would hate him for it, but he had to try. “Listen. You want somebody with close ties to the Galra? Then take me.”

“Keith, no!”

He ignored the interruption and made direct eye contact with Shiro’s captor. “Shiro...the Black Paladin...has been hurt by the Galra just as much as your people have, maybe more. His ties to the Galra are like yours. But me…” He sucked in as deep a breath as he could. “I’m part Galra. I’m a warrior, too, and you can’t get any closer to the Galra than me without sacrificing a pure-blooded one. Take me.”

Silence fell as everyone stared at him. Keith stubbornly refused to meet Shiro’s gaze, not wanting to see the pain that would be there.

“The truth think you do tells he?”

“Mm, think I does he.”

A definitive nod. “The sacrifice be then shall the Paladin Red.”

Now it was Shiro’s turn to struggle and lunge. “No! No, I’ll do it, I’ll go with you! I’ll be your sacrifice, okay? Just leave him here, leave him alone!”

Keith gave him a tight half-smile. “It’s okay. It’ll be fine.”

The pale blue alien released his one arm from Shiro’s shoulders so that he could reach into his pocket and pull out a small vial. Popping it open with his thumb, he poured the powdery substance over his captive’s head. “Sleep.”

Immediately Shiro’s eyes dropped shut and his chin slammed into his chest. The Luktorian deposited him gently back onto his bed and threw the blanket back over his legs. “Wake not the others and he will morning until.”

Keith clenched his teeth. Guess that rules out the possibility of screaming and alerting everyone out in the hall.

The royal blue alien holding him moved his top two hands down to grip his upper arms, finally leaving his neck free. “Come. Prepare the altar you for must we. Fight or your mind change not do or back come will we the Paladin Black for.”

Right. Cooperate or lose Shiro. There wasn’t even a debate to be had. He would always, always protect Shiro anytime he had the chance. He was his brother, in everything but blood or law, and he had already been through far too much for someone so young. Don’t you think you dying will be hard for him? He quickly pushed that thought aside. Yes, it would, but not as much as suffering at the hands of more aliens would. Besides, the team needed its leader a lot more than it needed its hotheaded half-breed.

Keith didn’t pay very much attention to their trip through the many intersecting hallways, lost in his head. He only became aware of his surroundings again when they entered a long, narrow room that was lit by torches along the walls and smelled very strongly of something perfumy and definitely not from Earth. Several other Luktorians, all dressed in the same simple white shifts, stood with their hands clasped in front of them, waiting.

His escorts wasted no time in handing him over, holding a brief, whispered conversation with a periwinkle-skinned female before exiting. Periwinkle clapped her hands, and the two that now held his arms, Grey Blue and Sky Blue, pulled him further into the room. He wanted to resist. He wanted to fight and kick and bite and spit so, so badly. All the instincts that he had been cultivating since childhood were shouting in his ear that he should not be letting someone drag him around like this, that he was bound to get hurt soon, but he squashed them back down with one single word. Shiro.

That almost wasn’t enough once they got to the apparent designated spot and Grey and Sky swiftly began stripping him. The shirt was one thing, but when they went for his belt and pants he panicked. “Hey! No, wait, stop, what are you doing?”

Periwinkle appeared in front of him with one eyebrow arched. “Told was I that a sacrifice quiet, good would be you. A problem there is?”

Keith’s shoulders heaved with shaky breaths. For Shiro. For Shiro. For Shiro. “N-no. No...problem.”

“Good.”

The stripping began again immediately. Clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes shut, he sent his mind somewhere far, far away, somewhere that was bright and happy and no one was touching him without his consent. By the time he had finally gotten his mind occupied, he was stark naked and being prodded forward to the next checkpoint.

Paladin. Hurt?

No, Red. I’m...I’m okay.

More Luktorians were waiting for them around an oval-shaped pool of lavender water. As Keith was positioned at the very edge they began chanting something in low voices. He was too busy worrying about what was about to happen to him to try to decipher what they were saying, and with good reason, too. Almost as soon as the chanting began, a set of hands landed on his back and shoved.

Keith could swim, that wasn’t a problem. The pool wasn’t even deep enough to worry about needing to swim, anyway. But the liquid - probably not water, he now realized - was heavy, and pulled him down to the bottom with no chance of fighting his way up. More importantly, it was scalding. He just barely kept himself from opening his mouth and screaming as his skin burned.

An instant later, multiple hands grabbed his arms and yanked him back up into the cool air. He was in the midst of panting for breath and shaking from pain when he was assaulted again, this time with rough sponges that scoured every inch of his body. It was becoming harder and harder to detach himself from reality, and more tempting every moment to punch every single one of these aliens in the face and race back to the safety of his team.

But he couldn’t. He had to stay for Shiro.

Paladin! Come?

No, Red. Stay. You can’t come.

His toes gripped the edge of another pool, this one deep purple, and he at least knew what was coming. More chanting, another shove. This time it was like breaking through an icy lake, making all his muscles seize up instantly. When he was pulled out, he was shivering uncontrollably.

The chanting continued as some kind of oil was poured from an intricately painted vase over his head, turning his already wet body slick and shiny. Lastly, Periwinkle produced a garland of pungent blue and purple flowers - the source of the perfumy smell - and set it carefully atop his hair.

“Ready the sacrifice is. Us let proceed.”

Just before the procession left the room, Grey and Sky wrapped a strip of silky fabric around his hips and knotted it on one side. Well, I’ll die with some of my dignity intact. At least there’s that.

The ceremony was apparently taking place in a cathedral-like space. Strange music was playing as they entered, with the Luktorians deep, humming voices singing along. Hundreds of them were gathered, their waving, bobbing heads almost looking like an ocean.

Directly in front of Keith and his parade was a steep set of stairs leading up to a platform. A Luktorian in heavy purple robes with the deepest blue skin he had seen so far stood at the top, looking down on them. They halted at the foot of the stairs. Deep Blue, probably a priest, was saying something, probably initiating the ceremony, but Keith’s heart was pounding too loudly in his ears for him to hear.

Forward again. Up the stairs - eleven total. Counting them kept his mind off of what was coming, even if it was only for a few seconds. Then they were at the top, and the priest was placing a hand on Keith’s head. Even after everything he had been through over the past hour, the touch still made him flinch.

More indecipherable words as his eyes zoned in on the stone structure looming in the background, oval shaped, like the pools. The altar. Already he could see orange coals glowing in the open space underneath it, and his breathing kicked into high gear.

Of all the ways to die. The fact that it was idiotic and humiliating was bad enough, but now he knew he would die by fire. Just like his dad. Just like his nightmares since he was six.

For Shiro. For Shiro.

Grey and Sky dragged him forward. He was more resistant now, only because his body was momentarily winning over his mind, but no one seemed to care anymore. They lifted him off his feet, holding him up high and parallel to the ground for only a moment before lowering him down onto the metal grate.

This time Keith did scream. The metal had been heating over the coals for who knew how long, and it seared into the bare skin of his back. While he was busy blinking back the tears that sprang to his eyes, straps were expertly tightened over his ankles, thighs, chest, biceps, and throat. His arms had been positioned out away from his body, resting in two troughs that angled down toward the lower part of the altar.

Paladin hurt. I come.

Red...Red no. You can’t. I have to do this...I have to.

A knife flashed in the light over his head and he jumped, jarring the burns on his back. Biting down on his lip, he let out a quiet whine.

I come! Paladin needs.

I...I do need you. But…if you want to help me, then get the others to try to wake their Paladins. You can’t save me until we make sure the others are safe. He didn’t expect it to actually work. Whatever substance the Luktorians had used was probably stronger than a mental bond. But at least maybe it would keep Red occupied, pull her away from having to listen to his panicked thoughts.

The priest was standing over his right side now, the knife he had glimpsed held aloft in his hand. “The sacrifice first now - the blood spilling of.”

Before Keith could think to react, it came swooping down and sliced deep into his wrist. He cried out through gritted teeth. As the priest circled to the other side, he twisted his head as best he could to look down at the damage and saw blood flowing rapidly over his hand and down the trough. A second later, his left wrist was cut open as well.

Already he was growing lightheaded and nauseous. As the priest faced the audience and droned on about who knows what, Keith let his eyes slip shut.

I’m sorry, Shiro. I know you’re gonna be so angry and hurt when you wake up tomorrow. Just remember...I did it because I love you. You’re my brother.

“The sacrifice second now - the flesh burning of.”

His breath hitched and he pressed his lips together, trying not to make any more pathetic noises, but his rapid breathing gave away his terror. He could hear the clunk of wood echoing below him as more fuel was thrown in, and the crunch of coals being stirred. Mere seconds later, a flame flared, and he sobbed despite his efforts as it licked his already raw back.

The Luktorians were chanting again, the whole assembly, and they sounded like a hive of bees in his ears. More flames jumped up, higher and higher. He was full-on weeping now, and he didn’t even care. It was so much worse than his nightmares had ever been. He could only hope now that it would consume him quickly, or that the blood loss would take him first.

Please...please just let me die…

Paladin! We come!

His eyes flew open just in time to see five beautiful, colorful Lions burst through the roof of the cathedral, mouths wide open in a chorus of ferocious roars.

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samcedeswannabe · 4 years

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Prompt: Soul mate AU where soul mates can hear whatever music your soul mate listens to and you’re forced to sing whatever song your soul mate is singing

The Bond

The nineteen year old slept peacefully on his bed. One of his legs was bent at the knee, while the other remained extended. He had only managed to fall asleep around two that morning after studying for hours with his best friends in his room. Boss was sprawled out on the floor with a pillow tucked under his head and Man’s face was buried against the cushions of Sarawat’s couch, both snoring softly in their slumber. As if possessed, Sarawat sat up with a loud gasp disrupting the quiet of the room and placed a hand over his panicked heart. Fuck, not again. He groaned as the now familiar music in his head played once again. His eyes travelled over to his phone and looked at the time, it was four am. What the fuck? Why was his soul mate listening to music so early in the morning? Again! Please don’t sing, please don’t sing, please don’t freaking sing. He begged in his mind, hoping that their soul mate connection extended beyond hearing the music that the other was listening to and of course the other dreaded thing that was also part of their bond. The singing.

Sarawat normally loved to sing. He was part of a band and often substituted with others. But this was different. This was singing beyond his control and he hated it. He could still communicate with his expressions and through writing, but whenever his soul mate decided to randomly sing, he was forced to sing as well. Even if he was minding his business in the men’s bathroom, he had to sing. Even if he was in a quiet movie theatre, he had to sing. Not only did he have no power over when it happened, he had no control over what was being sung in the first place. And he had officially determined that his soul mate was either a member of a band called Scrubb or his soul mate was absolutely insanely obsessed with the band. Day in and day out, Scrubb. He didn’t even know who Scrubb was before all of this and now he hated them with the fire of a thousand burning suns all thanks to his bloody soul mate. Why couldn’t his soul mate connection be like Man’s where he could write on his arm and his soul mate could respond to him the same way? Or like Boss’ where he had miraculously adapted whatever skill his soul mate learned. Why did Sarawat’s connection have to be a damn mind thing? Ugh. He was over it and he was tired. His mouth began to tingle and his lips parted as he began to belt out the lyrics to the song playing in his mind. Fuck. Why did his soul mate have to sing at this time in the morning? Upon hearing the loud singing, Man woke up with a start and rolled off of the couch with a loud bang. Boss bolted upright with his eyes still shut and his hands balled into fists as if he were going to fight someone. Sarawat frowned as he continued to sing the upbeat ballad in a blind duet with his soul mate.

“The hell?” Man groaned as he rubbed his head and glanced over at Sarawat who couldn’t stop singing. “What time is it?!” He reached into the cushions of the couch and pulled out his phone. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Man turned to Boss who had now opened his eyes and was bobbing along to Sarawat’s talented vocals.

“Oh I like this one. This one’s Together right?” Boss asked and Sarawat nodded while he sang. “Your soul mate really likes that one.” Boss mused out loud before he yawned. Sarawat rolled his eyes. He wished more than anything that his soul mate would switch it up. He had even curated a whole playlist to listen to so that his soul mate could hear a variety of songs. But nope. It was Scrubb. Always Scrubb.

“This has got to be mental warfare.” Man declared as he crawled on to Sarawat’s bed once he had managed to stop singing. There was a new slower song playing in his head now. “We need to do something.” Man continued.

“Like what?” Sarawat frowned, “This has been going on for weeks.” Officially it had been going on since his nineteenth birthday, the age when everyone’s soul mate bond became activated. He had been initially intrigued about it, but now all he felt was annoyed.

“I say, you sing embarrassing songs out loud during the night and wake them up. Their neighbours will think they’re insane.” Man smirked as he looked over at Boss.

Boss nodded, “Oh yea, like the itsy bitsy spider.” He suggested.

Man shook his head, “Bigger than that.” He turned to look at Sarawat who was entertaining the idea.

A mischievous look transformed Sarawat’s features. He smirked and looked at his two friends, “I have an idea.”

---------

Tine sat at the back of his class with his best friend Fong. They were reviewing the slide show they had created for their presentation before they were called up. He had spent all night working on it along with the countless number of other assignments that he had due that week. To say that he was exhausted would be an understatement. He felt bad because he needed his music to keep him awake the previous night despite knowing that he had woken up his soul mate as well. He just hoped that she was a forgiving soul who would understand that their soul mate bond was stressful for him too. Based on how much the girl sang and how it always happened at a consistent time of the day, he assumed that she must have been in some type of band. It helped to know that she usually sang around lunch time and after class hours. That way he had been able to go home and sing it out where no one else could hear him. He was a horrible singer and he didn’t think it’d be appropriate to subject others to the whale noises he felt like he made. Sometimes he would be singing, but there was no music in his head. Yet, the words tumbled out of his mouth. It was like the music was coming straight from him, but he knew that it wasn’t. He had told Fong about it and his friend suggested that maybe the music wasn’t coming from his soul mates mind, but from their heart. Tine thought that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard.

“Tine” Fong snapped his fingers in front of his face to get his attention. Tine blinked and looked over at him.

“Yea?”

“It’s our turn to present. You sure you’re good to do this?” His friend asked him. Tine nodded and flashed a tired smile.

“For sure, look” He waved his cue cards at his friend, “-I have my cards all done up. Notice that I used colourful ones to make us look fancy.” He patted Fong’s shoulder, “We are going to kill this.”

Fong gave him a weary look and then shook his head, “Alright. Let’s head up.” Tine grabbed his laptop and placed it on the desk near the front so that he could hook up the adapter to it and project their presentation on the screen. Once it was up, he stood beside Fong and smiled out at their classmates.

“Hey everyone, I’m Fong.”

“And you all know me as Mr. Chic, but for the purposes of this presentation, I shall go by Tine.” He grinned as some of the girls giggled and others rolled their eyes. Well, you can’t win them all. Their teacher gave them a warm smile as she looked up at the screen.

“So our case was about a young wife who recently-“ Fong began explaining their case, but Tine’s eyes widened in fear as he heard music playing in his head. It wasn’t unusual for his soul mate to listen to music throughout the day, and he normally didn’t have difficulty focusing on his studies when it happened. But he had heard the girls’ music now for a few weeks and this song that was now playing in his head, was very different from her usual tastes. The hell? He frowned and was snapped back to reality when Fong shook his shoulder.

“It’s your turn.” He whispered from the side of his mouth.

“Shit, sorry.” Tine cleared his throat and looked at his first cue card, when his lips began to tingle. No. NO. His lips parted just like it would any other time when his soul mate was singing. What? No, she can’t sing now. It’s too early. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Beads of sweat pooled on to his brow as he realised what was about to happen. He squeezed his eyes shut and belted out the lyrics like his life depended on it, “I like big butts and I cannot lie, you other brothers can’t deny, that when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face, you get sprung, want to pull up tough, cause you notice that butt was stuffed.” He clapped his hand over his mouth and continued to sing a muffled version of the song as his classmates erupted into laughter and his teacher pressed her lips into a firm line. Fong’s jaw dropped as he watched Tine struggle.

“Um, sorry Miss, it’s his soul mate bond. When one sings so does the other.” Fong frowned as he tried to explain, “Tine, go to the hall. I’ll finish this.” Fong gave him a sympathetic look and pushed him towards the door. Tine hoped that his friend knew how grateful he was as he closed the door behind him and ran as fast as he could to the bathroom.

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

After hours of singing up the most embarrassing songs that he and his friends could think of, Sarawat finally sat down on his bed with a satisfied sigh. There, that would keep his soul mate quiet for a bit. He pulled the air pod out of his ear and paused the song ‘Sexy and I Know it’ on his phone and laid back on his bed. It was exhausting singing all of those songs and they definitely weren’t the kind of music he listened to, but it was all worth it to get his point across. He spent the rest of the night reviewing his notes, getting take out, and taking a shower before he got ready for bed. It had been a quiet night, which he appreciated after all the music he had listened to earlier that day. Hopefully he hadn’t bugged his soul mate too much. He just wanted to tease them a little bit. The more he thought about it, the guiltier he felt. Hopefully nothing serious or important had taken place today. He frowned at the thought as he pulled his sheets over him. Nah, what were the odds. Sarawat smirked to himself and fell into a deep sleep after having had such a disrupted one the night before.

He woke up in a terrified panic and clasped his hands over his ears as the death metal pounded into his head. Scrambling and flailing on the bed as the music continued to wrack his brain. He scooted too close to the edge and fell off the side on to the floor. Fuck. He groaned as the music continued to play. Great, he definitely had pissed off his soul mate then. The music suddenly stopped as he laid down on the floor. What the hell was that? He rubbed at his elbow and his lower back as he climbed back into the bed to go back to sleep, only to be woken up again in the same way with the same song two hours later. That time it played for an entire hour. Scared that it would happen again, Sarawat sat up in his bed, opened up his computer, logged on to Netflix and watched shows until the early hours of the morning.

At the sound of banging on his door, he winced and groggily walked over to open it. He grimaced as the sun poured through the opened door.

“Rise and shine beautiful!” Man said loudly as Sarawat squinted at him. “Oh shit. What happened? I thought you said the plan worked.”

Sarawat sighed and stepped back for Man to come in, “Oh it worked. It worked so well that my soul mate decided to blast death metal in their ears in the middle of the night.” He pinched his lips together, “Not once, but twice Man.” His eyes widened in shock, “Twice!”

“You look bad. Like real bad.” Man exclaimed, “Like horrible.”

“Yea, I get it thanks.” Sarawat scowled and sat down on the side of his bed. “I need to meet them.”

“How?” Man asked, “I mean I only met Type because I wrote to him on my arm saying, hey wanna meet? And he was like you’re not a murderer are you? And I was like, well I hope not.” He smiled, “And the rest was history.”

Sarawat stared at him and then glanced away, “My soul mate loves Scrubb right? So maybe I can get the music club to get them to come here.” He thought out loud. “They’ll definitely go to the concert. Then I can tell them to cut the shit out or else.”

“That-“ Man paused, “could work.” He laughed, “Aren’t you and your soul mate supposed to be all lovey dovey? I don’t think threatening them will help.”

Sarawat narrowed his eyes, “Don’t care. I need to sleep.”

Man folded his arms across his chest, “What if you don’t find them at the concert? How will you even know who they are?”

Sarawat scoffed, “I never heard of this band before, I doubt anyone will show up.”

-------

As they stood among the hoards of concert goers, Sarawat knew he had messed up. “No one will show up huh?” Man teased as Sarawat shot daggers out of his eyes at him.

“After hearing you sing their songs so much, I love Scrubb!” Boss said excitedly beside them as he smoothed down the front of his Scrubb T-shirt, “I told everyone in the faculty to come.” He admitted.

“You what?!” Sarawat whipped his head at him. Boss nodded.

“Yea, Scrubb’s the best! I have deemed myself an official Scrubber,” Boss smiled, “It’s what we fans call ourselves. We were thinking about calling ourselves sponges, because you can scrub things with it.” He explained, “But we didn’t want people to get confused and think we were into Spongebob Squarepants because let me tell you, that fandom is insane.” He chuckled, “Absolutely nuts I tell ya.”

“Scrubbers?” Sarawat asked, “Boss that’s the dumbest name.”

Boss rolled his eyes, “Sarawat’s a dumb name too.” He muttered under his breath but Sarawat still caught it.

Sarawat dragged a hand down the front of his face as he looked at the hundreds of people. This was never going to end. He and his soul mate were just going to continue their song battle until one of them gave in and it was not going to be Sarawat. He was not a quitter. So what if he had headaches and his eyes had begun twitching? It was all worth it.

Despite hearing the songs over and over again, he caught himself bobbing his head in time to the music. It wasn’t so bad now that he was hearing them live. However, it was very loud because he was hearing the music inside and outside of his head. He knew that his soul mate had to be there. Man and Boss jumped excitedly beside him as the music electrified the atmosphere, making everyone around them hyped up. Sarawat noticed one tall boy in front of him who was really into the music. He was jumping around, twirling, smacking his friend on the shoulder, dancing with his friend, and just straight up enjoying the experience. Sarawat couldn’t help but smile at how happy the boy in front of him was. After the nightmare he had recently been living, it was nice to see. The guy in front of him continued to jump and jump until he ended up jumping right into Sarawat. Ugh. He reeled back and touched his chest where he had been bumped. The boy in front of him immediately turned around and bowed low in apology. Despite feeling grumpy about his situation, Sarawat didn’t feel mad or annoyed. He touched the guy’s shoulder. The boy stood up to his full height and stared at him. Sarawat stared back. His lips parting as he took in the other. The mystery man was incredibly handsome with his neat eyebrows and gorgeous does eyes.

“I-I’m,” The boy stuttered as a blush dusted the apples of his cheeks, “so sorry.” He finally got out.

“It’s fine.” Sarawat offered him a rare small smile, “You okay?”

The boy in front of him nodded, “Yea. Are you?” Sarawat returned the nod. “Okay.” The other said slowly as he continued to stare.

“Um,” Sarawat glanced away as his heart pounded in his chest. What was this?

“Tine you’re missing the concert.” The boy’s friend shook him. Tine? Nice name. He looked back at this Tine, who was giving him the goofiest of smiles.

“Hey Tine! It’s me Boss, from the fan club!” Boss waved excitedly. Tine tore his eyes away from Sarawat and looked at Boss.

“Hey dude!” He gave him a high five, “Amazing concert right?”

Boss nodded, “The best! I was telling Sarawat that we’re called the Scrubbers.”

Sarawat watched as Tine beamed even more proudly, “Yea, Boss came up with that one. Pretty cool name right?” Tine asked him. Sarawat personally thought it was stupid, but like hell was he going to say that to this ethereal looking man.

“I love it. So much.” Sarawat lied through his teeth.

“But you said it was d-“ The rest of Boss’ words were cut off as Sarawat placed his hand on his friends mouth.

“I said I love it. It’s great.” Boss licked his palm, “ugh.” Sarawat wiped his hand on his shirt and tried to look unbothered. Boss looked proud.

Tine raised a brow at him and chuckled, “Ok, well sorry again. Sarawat.” He turned around and continued dancing with his friend. But Sarawat didn’t miss the other’s occasional glance over the shoulder at him. He rubbed the back of his neck shyly and tried to focus on the concert in front of him.

-------

It had been weeks since the concert and for some odd reason Tine’s soul mate had stopped tormenting him. He didn’t know what had gotten into her, but he figured that maybe he had messed something up by developing a random crush. On a dude. On a dude he had never seen before. A dude that he couldn’t stop thinking about. He had asked Boss for all the information that he could tell him about Sarawat, but Boss just said he was a moody cool guy that liked to keep to himself and was currently going through some things. So to sum it all up, the dude he was crushing on was emotionally unavailable. Which was fine, Tine was willing to wait it out. He slightly felt bad anyways, as if he had betrayed his soul mate somehow. But he figured she must be into someone too because she had been listening to a lot of love songs lately. He didn’t mind that because it definitely made him feel much better and many of the songs she listened to were Scrubb. Tine could now understand why they might have been soul mates. They both obviously had impeccable music tastes. She must have been at the concert and he had missed her.

Oh well, he missed her, but had found Sarawat. Not too bad of a trade. He plopped down at a table at the coffee shop and began sipping on his Blue Hawaii as he scrolled through his IG on his phone. Was it weird that he was looking at Sarawat’s page, maybe, but it was all in the sake of research of course. He was curious if Sarawat had already found his soul mate. That way Tine would know if he needed to back off.

A familiar song past his lips, but once again it didn’t go through his head. He didn’t know what it was and he had tried to look it up, but the song didn’t seem to exist which was weird. Tine figured that it was one of the heart songs that Fong had told him about earlier. It was a bit concerning, because Tine knew for sure it was a love song and wondered if his soul mate could sing his heart songs too. Meaning that she knew he was thinking of someone else. That would be one awkward conversation once they ever did meet.

He heard the sound of the chair directly behind him scrape across the floor and a clunk of a bag on a table. The person behind him was also whispering something that he couldn’t quite figure out. But it was none of his business anyway. He took a sip of his drink and continued to sing the song and then suddenly stopped. The whispering behind him stopped too and then started up again. Tine began to sing the song once more and then again abruptly stopped. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around to face the person behind him. His eyes widened and he could immediately feel himself start to blush.

“Oh, hey.” He tried to say casually, “Sarawat right?” As if he didn’t know. The other boy’s eyebrows were raised.

“Yea. Tine?” He asked and Tine nodded. “What?-“ He paused, “What were you singing?”

Tine’s blush deepened, “Oh god, sorry was I too loud. Did I hurt you ears?”

Sarawat shook his head, “No, it just sounded like-“ He paused again and studied Tine’s face, “What song was it?” This was weird. Tine had hoped to see Sarawat again, but he had different ideas of how this conversation was going to go.

Tine shook his head, “Uh, I actually don’t know.” He shrugged. Sarawat cleared his throat and Tine’s lips began to tingle. Oh shit not now. He didn’t want to sing horribly in front of his crush. Sarawat began to belt out the same song that Tine had been singing earlier, and it took Tine a moment to realise that he was singing too. The patrons of the cafe turned to look at them as they continued to sing and then abruptly stopped. Tine’s eyes widened and Sarawat chuckled. “Wait a minute.” Tine stared, “Am I-? Are you-?”

“I wrote that song. “ Sarawat nodded happily. Woah. Fong was right. The songs that had no music in his mind had come directly from his soul mate’s heart. “So you’re the nuisance who kept me up at night.” Sarawat accused and then smirked.

Tine frowned, “Only because you were an asshole and made me sing about butts in class, yea.” They looked at each other and then started to laugh. “I thought you were a girl.” Tine stated. Sarawat looked down at his body.

“No, don’t think so.”

Tine rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“Yea. I figured you were a boy, but I wasn’t sure.” Sarawat admitted, “It would have been awkward if you weren’t I guess.” Tine stared at him, “I’m gay.” Sarawat stated.

“Oh, okay yea.” Tine laughed, “I got you.”

“So...” Sarawat started.

“So...?” Tine repeated.

“Is it weird to say, that I’m happy it’s you?” Sarawat gave Tine a shy smile.

Tine chewed on his lip, “No,” Tine paused and glanced to the side before he looked at Sarawat again, “Because I’m really happy it’s you too.”

“Alright.” Sarawat gave him a lopsided grin, “Now that we got that out of the way.” He paused, “What is your deal about Scrubb?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you all about it.” Tine laughed as he brought his things over to Sarawat’s table. “How much time do you have?”

Sarawat scratched his chin, “For you? I have all the time in the world.”

Tine snorted through his nose and immediately explained everything and anything Scrubb related to his soul mate.

#2getherweek #2gether the series #tine teepakorn #sarawat guntithanon #Day 3 #Rated T #4k #soulmate #single chapter

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