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cupofteaguk · 4 years

Text

let the games begin

PART OF THE REPUTATION SERIES

summary: in hindsight, acting out against prankster Jung Hoseok wasn’t entirely good for your sanity. after all, it’s not very fun to have hiccough sweet mixed in with your morning breakfast—a feat that goes about as well as one would think.

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: hogwarts au, pranskter!hoseok, enemies to lovers | fluff

warnings: there’s mention of Nayeon in this fic and yes it’s the same Nayeon from new romantics because i love crossovers lol, talks about Hogwarts curriculum (definitely not technically accurate but I tried my best), slow burn, ~banter~

word count: 19.5k

a/n: a birthday fic for jung hoseok <3

As soon as his name is called, a silence falls across the dungeon as students stand a little straighter and become a little more alert to the situation about to unfold. Murmurs rise up amongst the crowd as people look around, stand on tippy-toes, poke their head up, all trying to seek out the owner of the name—the brash individual who has piqued interest and has guaranteed an excellent show of skill for today’s lesson.

There’s a moment of silence, before a hand raises briefly into the air. “Present, professor.” It’s a voice from the back, a low tone but full of confidence. All the eyes flicker towards the source, a boy stepping away from his group of friends in order to walk towards the center of the room. At the center sits a long table, stretching across the expanse of the class. The surface is colored blue with decorations of wands and colliding spells, explosions of rainbow patterns. The perfect backdrop for a dueling lesson.

“Ah, wonderful Mr. Jung!” The professor announces, curling her fingers into each other. Professor Wong is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who has recently employed a dueling class once a week as part of her curriculum to interweave real life practices with academic intentions.

For every single duel that has been conducted, it’s always the same: pair two students against each other who have one assignment: disarm the other. There’s always a comment on the form, always a comment on the reflexes of the participants, and never a repeat of students who are volunteered for the activity.

With the exception of this one.

Jung Hoseok steps onto the table with practiced ease, his arm sweeping his cape back so he can step towards the center of the table. A light flurry of giggles pass through the air, of students already in awe of a move as simple as moving his cape. Hoseok doesn’t react outwardly to the shower of affection, he merely looks down to fiddle with the rings that decorate his longer fingers.

“And the student who will go against Mr. Jung today is…” Professor Wong refers down to her parchment. “Kim Mingyu. Mr. Kim?”

For a brief second, silence envelops the room until a distant voice is heard. “Oh fuck, Professor Wong is trying to get me killed.”

Professor Wong lowers her parchment. “Language, Mr. Kim. And facing off against Mr. Jung shouldn’t be a problem—his form is good but you’ve had weeks to study the art of dueling from previous students who have come up before you.” She pauses for a moment as Mingyu makes his way towards the center of the room. “And I have every confidence that you’ve been preparing.” She lowers her neck to fix him with beady eyes. “Did I presume correctly, Mr. Kim?”

Mingyu hoists himself up onto the table, managing an uneasy smile. “Of course, professor.”

“Filling me with confidence as always, Mr. Kim.” Professor Wong sighs. But she steps off the table and whirls around to address the two now situated atop the dueling table. “Now, the purpose of this duel is to provide real world context to this aspect of wizard combat. You two are not to injure each other but simply disarm your opponent. Nonverbal spells or verbal spells are allowed. Now, you know the rules. You may begin.”

Hoseok turns to Mingyu as the pair approach each other, the air weighing down in tension and anticipation. Once in the middle, the two bow before turning around and making their way to their respected ends of the table. Mingyu shuffles around nervously, while Hoseok whirls with the spin of his robe.

Mingyu launches first, stepping forward as a bright burst of light flickers out from the end of his wand and zaps straight towards Hoseok. A nonverbal attempt at expelliarmus—one that is immediately thwarted by Hoseok’s deflection. The light of the spell reflects off, creating a sound of hollow space, before the pair are once again back to where they started.

Hoseok attacks next, his own silent spell flying towards Mingyu, who mirrors a shield charm. But Hoseok steps forward and another attack flies at Mingyu, who has to step back hastily to reflect the spell. The latter boy looks exhausted, as nonverbal spells are still a challenging subject to master. Most seventh year students have the concept of casting spells nonverbally down, but require more practice beyond what a single year can provide. A lot of it comes down to practice, discipline, and mental fortitude—all things that Mingyu is losing hold of right now.

His opponent, however, doesn’t seem to be losing steam. Hoseok merely narrows his eyes and continues stepping forward. With every step he takes, he attacks with yet another expelliarmus spell aimed at Mingyu. After the second spell, Mingyu has reached the end of the table before the wand flies out of his hand. In the midst of the confusion, his foot slips off the edge and everyone gasps as Mingyu teeters, about to fall.

Bringing his wand towards him, Hoseok brings an end table from the other side of the room, lining it up to the edge of the long table so Mingyu has an additional surface to step on. The latter boy stumbles but maintains his footing at the higher ground.

Hoseok smiles slightly. “I can’t have you breaking your back during a disarming duel.”

There is a moment of stunned silence from Hoseok’s save, but as soon as the silence passes, the crowd erupts into claps and cheers.

“A wonderful benchmark for fair dueling practices once again, Mr. Jung,” Professor Wong starts up again as she steps onto the table. She waits for Mingyu to step back onto the main long table, waits for Mingyu and Hoseok to bow to each other again, before she’s turning back to the class. “Alright class, what did we learn from today’s duel?”

As the class engages in conversation about what has just occurred, several gazes flint over to Jung Hoseok. The boy appears calm and composed as always, making sure to pocket his wand before he’s running fingers through his hair and creating a curtain in his hair that exposes his forehead. Several more giggles arise from the movement. No doubt the conversations would carry on after the class time about Jung Hoseok is confident, posed, and absolutely—!

“Dreamy…” Nayeon sighs as she finishes recounting the events of the duel to you, ending it on the kind of note that makes you want to stab yourself with a fork. “You should have seen him—it’s like he gave Mingyu a chance to go on the offensive before Hoseok just tore into him. How do you think he did it? I’ve never seen anyone our year be able to conjure up so many nonverbal spells in a row.”

“Seems like Jung Hoseok never has anything better to do than learn that shit,” You grumble under your breath as the pair of you step into the next lesson of the day: potions. Your statement is dripping in sarcasm because it’s entirely false. Jung Hoseok can conjure up many nonverbal spells in a row for a variety of reasons, and most of those reasons have nothing to do with burying his head into a book.

Nayeon doesn’t seem to hear you as she slides into the seat next to yours to continue gushing about how attractive Hoseok had looked sweeping his robe back or pushing the hair out of his face. Although talking about Hoseok makes your eyes roll all the way back into your skull, you indulge her infatuation because she’s a friend. A new friend, but still a friend regardless.

Nayeon is the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Despite the six previous years spent in the same castle, Nayeon is not someone you were very familiar with as you were growing up. The pair of you just ran in different social circles throughout the previous years, and her popularity as a player for the house team has always made her seem like some faceless figure in your conversations with other people. That is, until a few weeks ago when you ran into Nayeon leaving a party in the Room of Requirements. It was after the first Quidditch game of the season—Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, and Gryffindor had lost out on the opportunity to advance to the next round.

To be fair, Jeon Jungkook is a monster on the Quidditch field.

Regardless, Nayeon had gone to the party and had been seconds away from being caught by Head Boy Min Yoongi had she not run into you heading back from the library. You saved her from detention that night, had played along with her claim that the pair of you were partners for some upcoming project. As the pair of you were walking back to your respected houses, you both made good conversation and decided to start hanging out in between classes. Nayeon is unlike some of the other friends you have within the castle walls—she’s much more outspoken and extroverted, but she is really sweet which is why you’re indulging her the way you are right now.

Because despite Nayeon’s parading of how cool and amazing Jung Hoseok is, he definitely is not.

“Yeah, wasn’t I so cool? Mingyu tried his best, but he just couldn’t handle me coming after him with my spells.”

You sigh through your teeth, and don’t even bother watching as Jung Hoseok himself appears in the potions classroom. His Slytherin friend Park Jimin is at his side, and they both slide into the seat behind you as Hoseok continues to brag about his victory during the dueling match.

This carries on for a little before the potion lessons start. In preparation for the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, there are less students and higher expectations than ever before—all lessons expertly crafted to help students prepare for their examinations.

And it all starts here: with an assignment from the professor to construct a potion for dreamless sleep. “Some of you might need this in the coming months, depending on how many N.E.W.T.s you have to take,” He had remarked humorlessly, before sending the class off on their own. As with many classes during a seventh year at Hogwarts, students are usually left to their own devices to finish up whatever assignment may be in store for them.

In the case of the potions class, it’s typical to get an ingredient or a potion to either write a paper on or recreate the mixture where a grade would be received on the spot. For today’s potion, ingredients are situated in the back and the textbook on Advanced Potion Making in the reference tool. With everything set up, you go off to gather your ingredients before returning back to your desk. After setting up your cauldron, you get to work setting up your station.

As you’re turning around to gather your textbook from your bag, an unwelcome figure approaches his own desk in order to set his own materials down atop the table. He notices you immediately, and flashes you a smile. “Hey Y/N, you should have seen me today in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. I kicked ass at our dueling lesson.”

“Unfortunately for you Jung Hoseok, I’m not taking that class,” You sneer, whirling back around to focus on your current assignment, trying to focus. You can do this. Every grade distributed in your classes is important and you cannot afford to be distracted.

“You mean Dark Arts isn’t in your wheelhouse,” Hoseok says as soon as you’ve tried to settle yourself into a comfortable silence. Nayeon watches from next to you, eyes flickering in confusion between the two of you.

You turn back around to give him a sweet smile. “Herbologists aren’t required to have a Dark Arts N.E.W.T. Not that matters much, since it doesn’t affect you in any way.”

You turn around, staring down your first ingredient of the day: a sopophorous bean that needs to be cut in order for the juices to help with the construction of the potion.

As you start your chopping (or attempting your chopping), Park Jimin’s voice resumes from behind you. “So how exactly were you able to go like three nonstop nonverbal spells against Mingyu? Doesn’t that require a lot of concentration? At least, according to the textbooks.”

“It does,” Hoseok answers. “But I like to think I’ve had a lot of practice in casting spells. It requires a lot of mental commitment and you really have to think about what spell you’re trying to use as you’re using it. Luckily, I think my skills are pretty solid so Professor Wong is pretty smart in having me be a good reference point—!”

Unable to take it anymore, you place your knife down on the table and turn around once more to face the two boys behind you. Hoseok and Jimin look up, but you only focus your attention on Hoseok. “Jung Hoseok,” You seethe. “Some people are actually trying to do well on these assignments and pass this class so we can set ourselves up for success. Not everyone here is protected by a family name.”

At your final sentence, the people within hearing range react immediately. Jimin’s eyes widen as he lowers his own knife to study you. Even Nayeon looks over her shoulder to stare at you.

Hoseok, however, just raises an eyebrow at your attack. He takes in a breath of thinly veiled frustration before giving you a nod. “Fair enough. Focusing is really important in class, I get it. Here.” He picks up his wand from his desk and gives it a wave. “Consider this water under the bridge.”

Your eyes follow the movement of his wand with narrowed eyes, before you turn back around without saying a word. You turn back to your ingredients, not thinking anything of it as you manage a clean cut through the sopophorous bean. You pick it up, sprinkle it into the cauldron—!

And the contents inside immediately implode. You jump, Nayeon screams, and the ends of Hoseok’s lips tug up into a grin.

Professor Slughorn is at your table. “What seems to be the problem, Miss. Y/N? Put the wrong ingredient into the potion so soon?”

“N-No professor, I promise!” You stammer, frantically sorting through your materials before settling on the pages of the textbook you’ve been referring to. “It says to put the juices of the sopophorous bean into the cauldron first. I did and it just—I don’t know…” You continue, borderline helpless as your eyes shift.

Professor Slughorn is quiet for a moment before he leans forward to pick up one of the ingredients you have on the table. He observes it before placing it back down. “No worries, Miss. Y/N. It seems like your ingredients have been tampered with—with an aging charm no less. If ingredients like these are past a certain threshold, they lose their magical properties and end up damaging the potion. I know you wouldn’t do such a thing, so go ahead and grab the correct ingredients once more—Mr. Jung?”

Hoseok falters slightly with his own mixing as Professor Slughorn turns to face him this time.

“Now, Mr. Jung, just a quick word.” He lowers his chin to give Hoseok a more beady look. “Considering the wastefulness you’ve treated my ingredients, I am partial to just removing you from class for today. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Next time I’d be a little more mindful about picking up my wand before threatening another student. Just detention for you this time, Mr. Jung.”

Hoseok hardly seems fazed by the punishment, like he has been expecting it. He lowers his head slightly. “I’ll be more careful, professor.”

Professor Slughorn walks away, unable to see the wink Hoseok throws at you, unable to see the way your lips part in realization and the way your teeth clench together. Because Jung Hoseok has done it again.

“Argh!” You scream, bringing your curled fists up to your hair, ignoring the curious glances you receive from your classmates. The fingers land into the strands as you make an extra note not to pull too hard. “I’m gonna kill Jung Hoseok one day, mark my words.” You catch Nayeon’s wide-eyed stare. “He’s not that pretty to look at, come on.”

Nayeon blinks for a moment, before her lips curl into a smile. “You seem to know Hoseok pretty well.”

You groan. “I’d rather not go into it right now, I think I’ll burst a vein in my forehead.”

Nayeon keeps quiet at that, giving you the few seconds you think you mentally recover from the day. You did manage to get your potion done for the day, no thanks to Hoseok, and now you and Nayeon are walking through the outdoor pathway that drops off into the courtyard. The greenery is fresh underneath your shoes as you and Nayeon continue until you see another familiar figure laying atop a picnic blanket with a book in her hand.

But this time, rather than irritation, the sight of this person brings a smile to your face. You exhale the last bit of your frustration. “Sana!” You sing, quickening your pace with Nayeon following closely behind you.

Sana looks up from her reading material and waves wildly at the two of you. “Hey guys, how was class?”

“Pretty calm,” Nayeon starts as she carefully slips off her shoes and steps onto the blanket Sana had laid out. “Until someone got into a fight with Jung Hoseok.”

Sana gives you a side glance. “What did he do this time?”

Nayeon blinks, having not expected that. “Wait, you know about that?”

Sana laughs, gesturing to you with the point of her book. “They’ve had bad blood since year one. Jung Hoseok has done a few hair-pulling pranks throughout his Hogwarts career. Sometimes they’ve affected just one person or sometimes they’ve affected a whole dormitory. But Y/N is usually caught in the middle of it all and thinks that Hoseok is full of shit.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, what stuff? I’ve heard of a few pranks going off in the Hufflepuff Common Room and an incident with house arrangements but I didn’t think—!” Nayeon starts.

“Yep, all Hoseok’s fault,” You cut in, digging into your bag and pulling out a bag of food.

Nayeon’s eyes light up. “Sounds like there’s a lot of tea to unpackage then—I honestly figured something was up. Hoseok seemed to know exactly how to push your buttons and your insult about his family name seemed very specific. What was that all about by the way?”

You give her a look as you rip apart your bread. “Oh that’s right, I forgot that a lot of people outside of Hufflepuff don’t really know Hoseok’s history. But I’m sure you know about the Jung family line in the Auror department.”

Aurors were highly trained law enforcement officials who dealt with crimes relating to the Dark Arts and the dark witches and wizards who engaged in that dangerous magic. The training to obtain an auror position was known for being vigorous and intense and the reputation of the job was even more so. Despite that, wizards and witches who worked as an Auror were highly respected. It’s usually rare for even one wizard from a family to become an auror, but to have an entire family with the skills, talent, and grades to become an auror is a rarity in of itself.

Knowing that, Nayeon nods. “Of course. The Jungs are legends. Not only did they have generations of family members both heads and regular aurors in the department, but they have such an impressive streak of finding dark witches and wizards. But wait—are you saying—?”

“That Hoseok is from that Jung family? Yes, one hundred percent.”

Nayeon’s lips part as her eyes widen. “Wow, that’s pretty crazy. I’m guessing Hoseok is expected to become an auror too.”

“At this point, just being a Jung is enough to probably get him in. He just needs to get the right number of N.E.W.T.s and he’ll be smooth sailing. I don’t even think he’ll need the grades to get in.” You move around in your blanket so you’re resting on your stomach. “That’s why I think Hoseok is full of shit. He doesn’t take school seriously because of his family. His job and way of living has already been predetermined, so he just spends his time creating havoc everywhere he goes and literally dampening everyone else’s day with his horrible pranks. Seriously, now that I think about it, he pulled some crazy shit once a year.”

“Oh, like remember that time during first year when he set off a dung bomb in the Hufflepuff common room?” Sana asks, shuttering at the thought. “Sometimes when I close my eyes I can still smell the bomb in my nose. It was awful. The smell was in the room for days.”

Intrigued, Nayeon listens in as you and Sana briefly recount the annual party of pranks Hoseok created for everyone around him, or for you more specifically.

In second year, while trying to impress a student, Hoseok tried levitating a bottle of ink into the air during a lesson but lost control of the bottle. The actions caused the ink to spill all over your white blouse, colored with an ink so poignant that it required help from the Headmistress. You doubt Hoseok even knew you existed before then.

In third year, Hoseok spread quick dry glue all over one of the moving staircases—a product that, like the name implies, dries quickly when activated by the movement of a person, place, or thing. Unfortunately, you and Sana had been the person, place, or thing, to arrive atop the moving staircases. It was following a post-dinner bliss, seeing you and Sana trying to head back to the Hufflepuff common room before the plan was promptly thwarted by glue.

“Oh hello there, I remember you,” Hoseok had said, teary eyed and grinning from his previous laughter—just appearing from the shadows. “I spilled ink on you last year, nice to meet you!”

It had been your first conversation with Jung Hoseok, and the first time you wanted the ground to swallow him whole. But sadly, it doesn’t end there.

In fourth year, Hoseok made everyone’s quill disappear throughout the whole duration of the lesson only to have them reappear moments before class ended just to chase the poor professor out of the classroom. And of course, the final cherry on top had been a firework of feathers, the byproduct of the quills colliding and exploding over the whole class. The feathers had stuck to you for weeks, and Jung Hoseok had been laughing the whole goddamn time.

He had even cornered you after class with his classic shit-eating grin. “You look like a bird,” He commented.

In fifth year, he did something that surprised you: he walked to your desk and gave you a present.

“I hear you’re into plants or whatever,” Hoseok said, placing a small pot onto your desk. “So I found this and thought of you!”

He had seemed polite enough for you to indulge him. “It’s herbology,” You corrected him, but you wave it off. “But it’s fine. Uh…” You take the pot, curling your fingers around the edges. “This is very nice of you, Hoseok. Thank you.”

But turns out it was not a very nice gesture for you because the plant had been jinxed—a bewitched thing that became dangerously overgrown through the night and latched onto you in its path. You had woken up the next morning with branches and leaves curled over every part of your body, your entire bedpost covered with greenery and you right at the heart of it. You, lifted several feet above the bed, trapped in the plant Hoseok had given you. The Headmistress was called to help you out, and you refused to stand next to Hoseok in the greenhouse for the rest of the year.

And finally, the cherry on top of pranks was during sixth year. In an attempt to fix an admirer’s robes, Hoseok ended up bewitching the entirety of the housing system. The crests people wore on their robes were mixed around and swapped out. The gesture ended up fucking up who was allowed or denied access into the different houses—a crazy day that you remember extremely well. The paintings that guarded the common rooms couldn’t let in certain students, especially the first years because new students are still trying to be adjusted into the school. The day had been an overall frenzy where the attention of the Headmaster was needed to undo the mess. Hoseok had gotten a week of detention following that incident.

“Wow,” Nayeon says, back in the present, with her chin in her hand and her eyes wide. “I didn’t even know most of those pranks were done by Hoseok.” She looks at you. “I didn’t know you were the one who got attacked by the plant overnight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You cut in, looking embarrassed. “It was all very terrible and horrible and Jung Hoseok is a gigantic piece of trash—!”

“Piece of trash? You don’t mean yourself, do you?”

The familiar, shit-eating grin in his voice causes the three of you to jump as you pivot your waist to find Jung Hoseok and his stupid equally-as-naturally-talented friend Jeon Jungkook by his side. They’re both staring down at you.

You glare at him. “Are you stupid? If you’re selectively eavesdropping on a conversation not meant for you, it’s clear that you know I was talking about you.”

Hoseok slides his hands into his pockets. “Tactful as always. Anyways, this is my friend Jeon Jungkook. You may know him.”

“What’s up,” Jungkook introduces himself, eyes flickering to Nayeon as he grins. “Hey Nayeon.”

Nayeon gives him a weak smile in return. You wonder if she’s still upset about her loss against Jungkook in the Quidditch match. Or, deeper than that, you wonder if she’s more upset that he invited her to that party in the Room of Requirements and never showed up.

“Pleasant,” Hoseok comments in regards to the atmosphere that has been crafted before he’s turning back to you. “I’m hearing about a potions exam coming up.”

You nod. “You’re correct. Why, you’re gonna try and study this time?”

Hoseok laughs at that. “Nah,” He brushes off. “It doesn’t seem that important. I’ll look over a guide or something, but that’s it.”

Your stare hardens slightly. “I think it’s a little more important than you’re making it seem. You do realize that if you fail your exams, you won’t even make it to the N.E.W.T.s, and it seems like that’ll definitely fuck up your chances of doing anything significant with your life.” You pause. “Don’t you need to continue that family legacy or something?”

Hoseok laugh melts into a frown. The group you’re surrounded with becomes significantly quiet, as everyone seems in shock about the direction you’re taking the conversation. “Why don’t you just mind your business? My ‘family legacy’ or whatever dumb shit you want to call it isn’t of your concern. More than that, how I decide to go about my business is up to me.” He smiles, all teeth but no humor. “Your concern for my grades is cute. But I’m a Jung. I don’t need help and certainly not from you.” He readjusts the page on his shoulder. “Have a good rest of your day.”

As he and Jungkook take their leave, you roll your eyes and turn back to Sana and Nayeon. You smile. “He’s a dick. So, Sana, What kind of food did you bring out for us?”

When Jung Hoseok said he didn’t think the upcoming potions exam struck much importance to him, he didn’t think the universe would actually take him seriously. That is all that can run through his mind as he stares at the POOR classification written across his test.

His mind whirls a little as he starts to flip through the parchment, to figure out what had happened. Sure, he didn’t study specific ingredients closely, but he’s always known the gist of what different potions were meant for. That is, after all, how he passed his O.W.L. in potions.

“Yeah… I guess the more advanced courses look into what certain ingredients can do,” Jimin says, where his OUTSTANDING classification is over his own exam—of course. “When you get out in the real world and need to make something specific, it’s better to have the foundation of materials. Anyways I thought you knew that. I gave you a copy of a study guide for you to reference.” He narrows his eyes. “Unless you were out with Namjoon again.”

Hoseok sighs. “Whatever. It’s just one exam, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He’s about to collect his belongings when Professor Slughorn’s voice calls him from the front of the room. “Have a bit of trouble studying for the test, Mr. Jung?” He asks as Hoseok steps towards the desk.

Hoseok looks down at his test and plasters a smile. “Just wasn’t sure what to focus on, Professor. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope that it won’t, Mr. Jung.” Professor Slughorn puts down his quill before folding his fingers atop one another. “Because if you fail another one of my exams, it’ll be clear to me that you aren’t fit to take the N.E.W.T. for potions. And I understand you’re interested in the auror program after graduation. That is something I can’t guarantee right now. Unfortunately, just being a Jung won’t be enough if you can’t even make it to the examination period at the end of the year.”

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows, pressing his lips together. “So what do I need to do?”

Professor Slughorn ponders for a second. “An Outstanding classification would do you well, Mr. Jung. Good luck.”

With that, Hoseok leaves the confines of the dungeon with a head full and a panic brimming at the corners of his consciousness. An Outstanding was a Park Jimin level of smart and a 24/7 level of commitment—something Hoseok himself has only accomplished once. What the fuck was he going to do?

He ponders this question as he leaves the dungeons of the potions classroom, where Park Jimin is waiting near the entrance.

Jimin grins, detaching himself from the wall to approach his friend. “Are you still my potions partner?” He asks jokingly, matching Hoseok’s pace as the pair of them make their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast. The tall glass windows bring in that morning light, the haziness of morning stretching out past the horizon of the mountains outside.

Hoseok huffs. “Maybe not for long. Professor Slughorn says I need an Outstanding classification for his next exam or he’s gonna kick me out of class.”

Jimin whistles. “That’s the highest grade in the school from one of the hardest classes you’ll take at Hogwarts. Potions exams are no joke.”

“I know that,” Hoseok snaps. “I took the exam. I’m aware they’re hard. Otherwise I wouldn’t be in this fucking position right now.”

“Spicy,” Jimin rebuffs, nudging Hoseok with his shoulder. Hard. “But hey, don’t be a dick to me. You failed on your own merits. You’re lucky Professor Slughorn is actually nice and is letting you off with a warning. If this was first year and he didn’t know jack shit about you, you’d be gone.”

Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t apologize, however, but it’s implied with his momentary lingering glare. “So, uh,” He starts. “You got time to help me out during study periods? Outstandings require like… near perfect scores. I only got that score on the O.W.L. for Defense.”

Jimin gives Hoseok a long look. “I would help you Hobi, but I recently got roped into some Ministry of Magic project with that transfer student from Ilvermorny. Professor McGonagall’s orders. It’s a pretty heavy assignment, so I could still try to arrange some time for you…”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Hoseok cuts in, waving him off. “I’ll figure something out.”

Jimin ponders this for a moment as he and Hoseok linger outside the Great Hall, waiting for their other friends to show up as per usual. “You sure? I could make time. No worries dude, seriously.”

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Hoseok brushes off once more, eyes roaming around the hallway. Several unfamiliar students pass the pair of them before you show up and catch his eye. “Uh,” He starts with Jimin, looking at you but directing his voice to Jimin. “If the guys show up, go ahead without me. I’ll catch up in a second.”

Jimin looks over Hoseok’s shoulder, looking vaguely curious about where Hoseok’s interest in engaging conversation with you has come from, but shrugs it off when Kim Taehyung appears.

“Hey!” Hoseok calls, saying your name and making you look up from your conversation. “Hi,” He repeats, smiling from you to Sana and back to you. “I need to talk to you.”

You roll your eyes. “No, Jung Hoseok, I didn’t rat you out to Professor Slughorn and no, I didn’t imply that you were the one to mess with my ingredients.”

Hoseok snorts. “Okay first of all, I know Professor Slughorn figured that out on his own. I know you weren��t smart enough to piece anything together—!” He cuts himself off when your glare narrows into something that implies you’ll murder him in his sleep. “Right.” He readies himself. “I need to talk to you.”

You look at Sana and sigh before looking back at Hoseok. “What is it?”

He’s quiet for a second. “You’re good at potions, right? Like, you’re actually good at knowing ingredients and shit?”

“Where exactly is this going?” You snap back, looking slightly hurt that your expertise in potions was being put under question. Not that it was ever Jung Hoseok’s responsibility to know your grades. Not that he cares, anyways.

“She’s good,” Sana interjects politely. “She got an Outstanding classification on the recent test.”

Hoseok brightens. “Thank you Sana.”

“Hey,” You protest. “Who’s side are you on?”

Sana gives you a look. “Are you saying that you were just going to ignore him? While he’s standing right in front of you?”

Your glare deepens. “Why don’t you go and save me a seat for breakfast? I’ll catch up.”

Sana laughs. “Alright then.” She turns to Hoseok. “See you around, Hoseok.”

Hoseok tilts his head up. “Later, Sana.” He waits until Sana has entered the Great Hall before he’s turning back to you. “So, an Outstanding classification. You’re pretty smart then.”

Your glare doesn’t go away. Instead, your eyes narrow in suspicion. “What do you want?”

He seems to ponder this. “I’m giving you an opportunity. I’m in need of a tutor for potions and you seem…” He waves towards all of you. “Vaguely qualifiable. What do you say?”

You look like he’s grown a third head. “Are you serious? If you’re actually trying to get me to help you out, you’re not doing a very good job of selling yourself. In fact, you’re coming off as more of a dick than usual.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Why don’t you ask your actual smart friend over there?” You gesture towards the entrance of the Great Hall, where Park Jimin is only now sliding into one of the tables. Around him are the company of Jungkook and Taehyung—all three of them laughing mid-conversation.

Hoseok turns back to you. “Jimin is busy.”

You give him a tight smile. “And so am I. Goodbye, Jung Hoseok.”

“Hey, wait, come on,” Hoseok cuts in, not entirely used to rejection of this degree. He’s more accustomed to friends rearranging schedules for him, to students watching his movements with awe. Not disgust, which is the look you’re giving him right now. “Don’t be like that. I need help.”

“Wow, you’ve really built up a case this time. I’m jumping out of my seat with glee and anticipation,” You remark sarcastically.

Hoseok bites his tongue. He speaks without thinking. “You should be honored I’m asking you for help. I’m a Jung—people part for my family because they know how important we are. What’s up your ass anyways?”

Your gaze on him turns from annoyed to appalled. “What’s up my ass?” You echo. “You think I give a shit about how you’re connected to your family? Based on your work ethic alone, you’re unrelated to them for all I care. The fact that you’re using them to justify your dick behavior is blowing my mind right now,” You sneer, taking a step back away from him. “Tutoring you isn’t an ‘opportunity’, Hoseok. It’s an anchor.” With that, you turn around and Hoseok alone in the hallway.

To say he’s frustrated would be an understatement. He lingers, watching you make your way into the Great Hall to join your friends. For some reason, your rejection just makes him even more attuned to your actions and gestures—the way you join your friends at the table, the way you reach for the food lined up along the center of the long table, the way you smile as if you hadn’t been snapping Hoseok out just seconds ago.

With a huff, he too steps into the Great Hall and slides into the corner seat along with his friends.

Jimin laughs, sticking his fork into some bacon and eggs. “What happened?”

Hoseok scoffs. “What makes you say something happened?”

“Dude, it’s written all over your face,” Jimin retorts, gesturing to Hoseok with his fork. “She pissed you off. What happened?”

“Does it even matter?” Hoseok returns, reaching over to grab the cup laid out for him. It immediately fills up with the morning drink of his choice—coffee. “Just being frustrating and yelling at me, as per usual.”

Jungkook laughs. “That is true.”

“Anyways…” Hoseok starts up, craning his neck just slightly to see you further down the table, still smiling and joking around with your own friends. “She said something that really bothered me. So I think I’ll send her a little present of thanks.”

Very slowly, he takes his wand out of his robe and rummages through his bag for a box. With the mutter of a spell underneath his breath, the box turns invisible with only the vague shimmering blurriness of its space to give an indication of its location. Hoseok raises his wand up, and the box follows, as it floats soundlessly down the table and past the other small clusters of students partaking in their own morning eating. Most don’t notice, too involved in their personal conversations or trying to shake off the morning exhaustion in time for lessons.

The box lingers when it reaches you, and Hoseok drops his wrist so the contents inside the box sprinkle all over your breakfast food.

“Accio box,” Hoseok hisses, watching as the box flies towards him before catching it with one hand. At his friends momentarily bewildered look, he flashes the now visible product towards them. “Hiccough sweet,” He explains, tossing it to Jungkook when the latter opens up his arms with a silent question.

Jungkook catches the box and turns it over to read the product description on the back. “A Zonko’s Joke Shop Product,” He reads. “Induces a hiccoughing fit when consumed.” He looks up. “So you just need to eat this and…?”

An utter of your name is heard from across the table. “Are you okay?”

You cough, hitting your chest with the palm of your hand. A round of hiccups escape you as your whole body jerks with each spasm of your diaphragm. “Maybe I—hic—ate too fast—hic—!” You try for a glass of water, but your hiccoughing makes you choke just before you can down the liquid, causing only further coughing and discomfort.

Hoseok watches the whole thing with a grin on his face.

In the midst of your coughing fit, you catch Hoseok’s eye and don’t have too much trouble deceiving his grin this time. It also helps that he’s waving the box of Hiccough Sweet at you.

Your lips part in shock. “Jung—hic—HOSEOK—!” The noise of your hiccups grow louder to echo through the breakfast hall. The increasing silence doesn’t help as your struggles only become more and more apparent.

Your lips part in shock as the noises of your hiccups grow loud enough to echo through the breakfast hall. The increasing silence doesn’t help as your struggles only become more and more apparent.

Sana seems to catch wind of this and places a hand on your back as you gasp in between your fit of hiccups. “Maybe we should go to Madam Pomfrey and see if she can fix this,” She says, helping you out of the seat as you cough in between your hiccups.

You point to Hoseok as you and Sana make your way out of the Great Hall. “I’m—hic—going to kill you—hic—so you better make sure I don’t—hic—see you in the hallway—hic—you dick!”

Hoseok is still mid-laughter as you and Sana leave the hall, bringing the curiosity of whispers and rumors along with you.

You don’t return to the house dorms that night, something about how Madam Pomfrey couldn’t figure out how to combat the hiccough sweet and had to take some time to figure out how to settle your diaphragm down. Hoseok had giggled about it then, and continues to smirk about it hours later as he exits the castle and makes his way down to the Gamekeeper’s hut along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Today is Saturday, and the breeze is calm but the clouds are collecting along the edges of the sky with the telltale signs that a storm is coming up soon.

Regardless of the weather, Hoseok is still making the trek out as he crosses down dirt pathways and rocky inclines—finally reaching the hut and the gates of magical creatures that are housed within the area. Today, Kim Namjoon is out there begrudgingly combing through the cages of the Blast-Ended Skrewts.

Hoseok lingers outside the cage for a moment, watching his friend partake in the very activities he had talked about and laughed about months prior.

He speaks finally. “If I decided to hit this cage, would the skrewts start shooting fire at me?”

If Namjoon is surprised by the visit of his friend, he doesn’t show it. “No, they’d start shooting fire at me so for the sake of our sanity, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

Hoseok grins. “I’m sure that the zookeeper who is supposed to be mentoring you would appreciate the sentiment.”

Namjoon flicks him off instead, and the pair wallow in silence as Namjoon continues cleaning up the cage until the area is spotless. Quickly, he opens the cage and shuts it behind him to signal his completion of the task. The silence stretches on as Hoseok reaches into his bag and pulls out a roll, referring to a common activity between the two of them, as the air quickly fills with purple smoke that smells of berries.

“What about your problem?” Namjoon asks after a few minutes. He shakes his roll. “The potions girl had a bit of trouble recovering from your hiccough sweet prank, so I’ve heard. Is that supposed to help convince her that she should tutor you?”

Hoseok blows smoke. “Probably not. But she called me an anchor!”

Namjoon snorts. “Because you’re asking someone to help you study when you can be pretty shitty at studying because of your even shitter attitude? Especially regarding potions, AKA your hardest subject?” He looks out. “I’m surprised she didn’t say anything worse.”

Hoseok narrows his eyes at his friend. “You dick. You’re not exactly a model citizen either. What the fuck do you think got you into this position in the first place?”

The pair of them bicker for a little longer—conversations indulging through the activities of different classes and the different affairs going on amongst their friend group, before the aforementioned heavy clouds groan from above. It’s an angry sound, a crackle of noise that splits through the sky and gives a warning of what’s to come.

It’s a warning that only lasts a few seconds before rain starts pouring down from the sky, loudly pittering and pattering against the ground. Taken aback by the sudden nature of the weather, as well as the heavy weight of the rain drops themselves, Hoseok and Namjoon scramble to collect their belongings. Namjoon turns his attention back to the magical creatures around him, the rain starts to soak through his hair.

“I need to clean up,” Namjoon says, slightly begrudgingly, but firm nonetheless.

So Hoseok nods. “I’m gonna try and head back.” The pair of them exchange one last final parting before going their separate ways.

Despite Hoseok claiming a trip straight back to the castle, he doesn’t follow through immediately. He takes a bit of a detour, towards another place he knows he can remain alone and unbothered—a place that usually allows him to wallow in his thoughts given how it’s always unoccupied during certain days.

He heads towards the greenhouse.

But the time he’s reached the outskirts of the house, he’s soaked through his robe and his hair is promptly sticking to his forehead. The cool temperature invokes a slight shiver as Hoseok still pushes open the door of the greenhouse and closes it behind him.

He basks in his alone time for a grand total of five seconds before—!

“Jung Hoseok?” It’s your voice, and Hoseok groans. You’re not exactly the first person on the list of people he wants to see right now, especially after the whole hiccough sweet thing the other day. Not that he’s actively trying to avoid you, but seeing you is like salt in the wound. It’s definitely vice versa for him to.

He whirls around to see you having stepped out from an enclosed area of the greenhouse, a separate place of the building separated by more glass for advanced herbology students. It’s closed off from the main portion of the greenhouse to ensure that curious first-years don’t accidentally mess with plants that could alter one’s memory or other forms of dangerous enchantments. You, however, are prepared for this—with your dragon-hide gloves and rolled up sleeves of your white polo shirt.

When he doesn’t say anything immediately, you only further narrow your eyes at him. “What are you doing here? Last time I checked, idiots don’t need to drop by the greenhouse.” You jerk your chin towards the outside. “In the rain of all times.”

He ignores your insult to approach you instead. “I was just escaping the rain, thank you very much. Very cozy in here. And I’m totally fine, thanks for asking.” When you don’t say anything, he clears his throat. “So, what are you doing here?”

You gesture towards the area of the greenhouse you’ve just emerged from. “Do you have eyes? I’m here for an assignment.”

“Ah.” Hoseok nods. “That’s right, I forgot you like the play with plants.”

You frown. “It’s not playing with plants, I’m observing them—!” You cut yourself off, seeming to decide it wasn’t worth fighting this battle. You raise your hand and make a noise of self-protest in the back of your throat. “You know what? Whatever. I’m done for today anyways so I’ll let you roam free in here. Touch a plant and lose your memory for all I care.” You disappear back behind the advanced herbology section of the greenhouse once more to put your equipment back in the proper place, leaving Hoseok back at the entrance.

A few seconds pass before you’re emerging once more with your school blazer over your shoulder, brushing past Hoseok and turning the knob to exit the greenhouse—leaving Hoseok behind.

Watching you leave, somehow, is even more frustrating than enduring a conversation with you, which is why Hoseok dashes towards the door you’ve just closed to pull it open again. You’re up ahead, blazer over your head and your shoes splashing into the puddles on the ground.

“Y/N, wait!” Hoseok calls, closing the door and jogging over to catch up to you.

Your pace doesn’t let up. Neither does your disdain for him as you look over your shoulder to continue barking at him. “What do you want, Hoseok? Doesn’t putting hiccoughing sweet into my breakfast fulfill your quota of torturing someone for the week?”

“What?” Hoseok shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not about that. It’s about the thing, the—the other thing!”

“The other thing…?” You trail off, before stopping dead in your path. Hoseok would have crashed into you had he been running behind you rather than next to you. But alas, he slows down into a standstill. The rain continues to pour down on the two of you, further soaking Hoseok past his already wet clothes. You yourself lower the blazer off your head, allowing the rain to touch the strands of your hair. “Are you seriously bringing that up with me again?”

Hoseok swallows. Every little micro aggression you direct towards him only eats at his confidence more and more. Not used to being rejected as many times as he currently has, he finds that he has a harder time trying to formulate the right words into the right sentence, he actually stammers. “I just thought…”

“Thought what?” You interrupt. “That avoiding me would make me forget how much of a dick you are? That’s right, you don’t think I noticed what’s been going on for the past few days. You’re filled with guilt and you think ignoring the problem will just make me forget it long enough to be your stupid tutor. But let me tell you something, Jung Hoseok.” You take a step closer to him, close enough where he can see the rain drops clinging to your lashes. “Nothing can make me tutor you.”

You step back, turn around and start your walk towards the castle once more before Hoseok sighs loudly into the air. He says something that he hasn’t said since he was ten. “I’m sorry!” He calls out, yelling it through the space between you.

That makes you falter slightly, having never heard those two words spoken to you before. You stop walking, looking over your shoulder to stare at him—give him a chance to further explain himself.

Hoseok sighs again, trying to quickly formulate his thoughts into words before you lose interest and continue to think he’s full of shit. “Professor Slughorn called me in the other day and said that if I don’t get an Outstanding classification on the next exam, I’m basically out of the potions N.E.W.T.s. If that happens then I won’t get into the auror program after graduation—and yeah, I’ll be a disappointment to my family. So I, uh… need your help. Please.” He says the last word more as an afterthought, more of a grumble.

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the sound of rain pattering against the grassy pathway. A part of Hoseok really thinks that you’re going to curse him out again, tell him to piss off now and forever. But you speak. “What was that?” You say. “The last part.”

There’s a slight smile in your voice, as if you know what he said but just want to hear him repeat nonetheless.

“Please,” Hoseok tries again, a little stiffer but a lot louder.

“One more time?”

Hoseok glares harder, but he’s not sure you can see it through the rain.

Finally, you take a step towards him. Your shoes squish against the mud, stopping when you’re arms length away from him. “You must be desperate,” You say at last, running a hand across your forehead to rid of some of the water that has collected there. At last, you yourself emit a sigh as you rummage through your bag for your wand. You pull it out, pointing it up to the sky as a clear veil comes out from the tip—an invisible umbrella. The rain hits the surface of your spell-produced umbrella, but it’s a protection that only covers you up. Hoseok continues to feel the rain soak through every part of him. “Fine,” You acknowledge after a moment. Hoseok feels his heart lurch in his chest. “I’ll tutor you—but, if you fuck with me even once… if you show up late or don’t take this seriously, then I’m out. I won’t even give you a warning. This is my warning.”

Your strong-hold and straightforward attitude about your conditions to tutor him leaves Hoseok vaguely starry-eyed. Not that you aren’t normally no-nonsense, but to see you take so much control over something he is a part of makes him stunned.

So he utters the only thing he is capable of uttering with a full head. “S-Sure,” He manages.

That seems to be enough for you, because you give him a curt nod. “Tomorrow afternoon, 2pm,” You throw out. “That’s when I’m done with lunch. Meet me in front of the library.”

“Y-Yeah…” Hoseok says, trailing off as he watches you leave, taking your energy and the pitter-patter of your umbrella with you down the pathway and back toward the castle.

He doesn’t even want to try and entertain the possibility of fucking around the following day—doesn’t even want to see if you were perhaps joking around when you threated to back out of the tutoring arrangement if he so much as breathed wrong in your direction. He shows up five minutes before the agreed time.

You show up a minute before, readjusting the strap of your bag, but you stop at the sight of him lingering outside the library. You wear an unreadable expression as you approach him.

Hoseok stares right back. “What?” He says, trying to keep the bite out of his voice.

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Nice to see you passing the first test of showing up early..” Without another word, you make your way into the library with Hoseok hot at your tail.

The two of you eventually settle into a tiny corner booth encompassed by shelves of books. The library is quiet considering it’s a Sunday afternoon when most normal students are probably fighting the food coma of lunch. Normally, Hoseok would be one of those people—would prefer to just relax outside in the courtyard with his body laid out amongst the grass and the conversations of his friends putting him to sleep. The momentary visual of that is contradicted to his current predicament: inside the library and the uncertain nature of the current situation leaving him apprehensive. It’s an emotion he isn’t accustomed to.

“So,” You start just as Hoseok is settling into his chair. You lean forward, fingers lacing together as you regard him with a curious look. “We need to figure out how much you know. Can you tell me what bezoars are and what it’s good for?”

He stares at you.

You kiss your teeth as you twist in your chair to collect parchment from your bag. “Alright. This’ll be a good next few weeks.” The dryness in your tone is hard to ignore.

Hoseok furrows his eyebrows. “Why, what’s wrong? What’s a bezoar?”

You sigh. “What’s wrong is that bezoars were the first things we studied this year in class. Honestly, Jung Hoseok, how did you even make it to this level of potions?”

“Hey,” He exclaims, actually pouting at you. Just a little, but the defeat in his tone is present—still guilty for not knowing what bezoars are. “The O.W.L.s were easier. And Park Jimin is one of my best friends, he usually tutored me right before the exams. And exams from last year were made for more memorizing rather than actually giving me a foundation for this shit.”

You waver in the collection of your materials to give him a look.

He looks right back at you. “What?” He asks again, a little sharper this time.

You lift your hands up as if to deflect his self-conscious attitude. “Nothing, it’s just—you’re pretty observant about that kind of stuff. And I would even go so far as to agree with you. Those tests were pretty brutal.”

“Yeah, exactly…” The notion of you actually agreeing with him feels like a few weights off his shoulders. Hoseok settles himself deeper into his seat. “So I honestly just forgot the information as soon as I finished the test.”

You nod slowly. “Okay… that’s fine. It’s a problem, however, because you really need to know all this information if you’re gonna need to pass the upcoming potions exam and even further for the N.E.W.T. exam. Just memorizing and forgetting for each test isn’t going to work this year. But, for this upcoming potions test, this is what you’ll be tested on.” You produce another parchment that contains a small list of ingredients and actual potion brews. “Professor Slughorn said that the next exam will be a combination of concepts learned from the first test as well as the lessons after that.”

Hoseok takes the parchment from you and feels his eyes almost bug out of his head. The list itself isn’t too long—just a handful of ingredients and potions—but the subheaders are filled with different points that would need to be covered in the exam. Like where specific ingredients could be found, what season would be the best time to grow them, if they could be grown, what potions from class one would find this ingredient, and the general purpose of the ingredient. For potions, pointers you’ve written cover the intention of the potions and the ingredients required.

The new knowledge that he would need to know all this information fills Hoseok with a sense of dread, before the doubt settles in. “There’s no way it has to be this detailed.”

You glare at him. “Hey, why would I take the time to write out all these different subheaders otherwise? Last time I checked, I was the one who passed and you were the one who failed.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Hoseok snaps. “Why else do you think I’m here?”

You slam the textbooks and parchment you’ve brought over onto the table. “Are you seriously trying to pick a fight with me over this shit right now?” You run both your hands through your hair. “Look, you don’t like studying and memorizing and applying yourself—I don’t get it, but who the fuck am I to spare brain cells in trying to make sense about you. But this is the reality of the situation. You get out what you put in. If you would prefer Park Jimin to tutor you and whisper the answers to you when the professors aren’t looking, then be my guest.”

“No! No, okay, fine, I’ll stop,” Hoseok interjects tensely. “I guess you just make me a reactionary person.”

You make a side-eye at that comment, but don’t say anything to further drive the wedge already in place between the two of you. “How good are you with retaining information?”

“Depends how mean you are to me,” Hoseok mutters.

You ignore his jab to open up your copy of Advanced Potion Making. “Alright, well, I guess we can start with going over bezoars…”

You can not fathom why you decide to tutor Jung Hoseok. Thinking clearly about it, there isn’t a gain or a loss to come out of helping someone who has done nothing but make your many years at Hogwarts challenging and terrifying at the same time. You know that he doesn’t purposely single you out, and more often than not it’s just the misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time—Hoseok doesn’t have the bad blood in him to target one person (unlike his friends), but his carelessness doesn’t excuse years of frustration and annoyance.

Given those feelings, you almost said no. In the beginning, you had been fully prepared to reject his ass over and over again until he gave up. It wasn’t difficult at first, with his arrogance shining through and doing well to push all the right buttons that drove you to a rejection in the first place.

But that day in the greenhouse had changed some things. Hoseok had been the most vulnerable you had ever seen him, showed the most humility, and actually seemed human. And you’ve always had a soft spot for vulnerability—makes you feel guilty if someone poured their heart out only to get rejected once more. So you accepted.

Besides, even though you aren’t sure how to tutor, you painted yourself as a good student and assumed that teaching someone concepts that have already been reviewed before would be simple.

But you were very, very, very wrong.

“For the last time, Jung Hoseok,” You seeth, fingers pressing deep into your temples as you rub. “A fluxweed is part of the mustard family, grows purple flowers, and is known for its healing properties. Knotgrass doesn’t sprout flowers—it’s used for polyjuice potions and is brewed to make knotgrass mead. How do you keep fucking this up?”

“They both have a grass differential in their name!” Hoseok whines, throwing himself back into his seat. “Weed and grass is very confusing! How does a grass ingredient not sprout a flower but a weed ingredient does? That’s too weird!”

“It’s not weird, it’s just the way things are!” You snap back.

“The fact that you say that only makes it more weird!”

You have to zero in and read an excerpt on fluxweed to calm the nasty flare of anger that lights up in your stomach. Not only is tutoring Hoseok not simple, but it turns out he has difficulty memorizing very basic ideas of things he has zero interest in. How on earth did he pass his O.W.L. for this fucking subject in the first place?

The pair of you were in your third week of tutoring, still reviewing concepts from the beginning term. With the next upcoming potions exam rapidly approaching, the seeds of doubt start to grow in your mind, an unsure feeling that the pair of you could catch up to the rest of the material. Your growing frustration over Hoseok’s inability to retain the information is also starting to get in the way of proper tutoring sessions.

Basically, you’re at your ropes end. The hour-per-three-days you have spent tutoring Hoseok could have been spent studying for your own assignments and own weaknesses. Or perhaps seeing a therapist on how to stop letting people like Hoseok take advantage of you.

“You’re being so impossible right now!” You shriek, ignoring the wandering eyes of other students who glance over at your outburst. “How are you not retaining this information? It’s almost like the only time you’re studying for this class is during our tutoring sessions…” You glance over at him, seeing the vaguely guilty expression in his eyes, and you feel your heart race pick up—the feeling of fight or flight coming over. “Please do not tell me that’s what you’ve been doing for the past three weeks.”

“Hey…” Hoseok protests. “That’s just how I studied with Jimin. Maybe if we met everyday I’d retain the information better.”

You turn to face him completely this time, eyes wide and body shaking with only thinly veiled irritation. “Do you think…” You start, voice already rising. “Do you think I have the time or the patience to go that far when I’m already sticking my neck out for you? Why can’t you just work around what I’m giving you—?” You begin to feel it, the anger settling in your throat and the heat of your face bringing tears to your eyes, the absolute frustration of the situation and the fact that you have only yourself to blame for the outcome.

But, someone new swoops in to interrupt your raging.

“Hey, there you are Jung Hoseok.” You manage a quick glance in the direction of the voice before turning away to collect your thoughts. It’s Kim Namjoon—one of Hoseok’s good friends and lead writer for the Hogwarts Daily. The thought of being seen and reported on by Namjoon brings you enough nerves that you choose not to make eye contact. You merely look away to blink away your anger and swallow your frustrations.

It’s hard though, especially when Hoseok and Namjoon start to have a conversation as if you aren’t even here.

“What’s up?” Hoseok asks, after the two of them engage in their handshake. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, same as usual.” Namjoon stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to ask if you were free. Jungkook wants to go down to the Three Broomsticks.” You’re in the middle of flipping through your copy of Advanced Potion-Making when Namjoon adds on one more line: “It doesn’t seem like you’re doing anything important anyways.”

Then, Hoseok laughs.

That final sound makes you feel like something has snapped inside of you, with that white hot anger coursing through you once more with no force inside you willing to stop it. Without a warning, you slam the textbook shut. The sound of it crashes through the library.

For the first time since Namjoon’s arrival, Hoseok looks over at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, okay, now you want to ask me what’s wrong,” You snap, standing up so fast that the bottom of your chair scraps against the floor. You start to collect your parchments and textbook into your hands. “This was a mistake. I should never have agreed to this.”

Hoseok frowns, standing up as well. “Wait, hold on—are you mad at me?”

You slam your bag onto your seat. “WOW, okay, for someone who was all signed up to take five fucking N.E.W.Ts, you do know how to lack critical thinking skills in all shapes and forms! Of course I’m mad at you! You lack respect, initiative, and any self-sufficient skills that could make you a fraction of a good student! It’s like you seriously expect me to solve all your problems and tell you exactly how to handle your situation and be honored that you chose me to do this, when in reality I just felt bad and I thought you reaching out to me would mean a change in your attitude. But clearly, I was wrong. You—you’re impossible to deal with! I can’t believe that I wanted to help you in the first place!” You spit out. your chest heaves up and down, the tears pricking in your eyes. The wetness makes your vision glossy, so you miss Hoseok’s expression drop. “I’m sure you can figure out your own way of passing the class.”

With a final huff, you turn on your heel, ignoring the gaze of other students who watch you leave. You even brush past Madam Pince who looks seconds away from a scolding. The action leaves Hoseok alone in the library to mull over what has just happened.

But would he even process what you’ve just said and actually take it seriously? Debatable. But you don’t even care. Your main focus is just to get out of the library as quickly as possible and find somewhere to scream.

You just heard towards the first place that comes to mind—the Hufflepuff common room. You brush past the painting, storming past the group of students conversing near the fireplace and up into the girls dormitory. After going through a maze of different hallways and doorframes leading into different bedrooms, you stop at your own—the door leading to your own bedroom. Inside, Sana is sitting atop her bed, flipping through the pages of a History of Magic textbook. She looks up from the book as soon as she sees you. “Hey, how was the tutoring session?”

You don’t respond immediately. You brush past her, beeline straight for your own bed and throw yourself atop the covers. Landing face-first onto your pillow, you yell right into the cushion.

Sana jumps at the sound, immediately sliding off her bed to make her way towards you. “What’s wrong?” She asks, sitting on the edge of your bed.

You pout to yourself for a moment, before you huff and proceed to flail your body atop your bed. Your arms and legs wiggle around, hitting the mattress before you stop and perform a 180 so that your back is resting on the mattress. The tears have disappeared from your eyes, but the angry weight still sits in your chest. “Hoseok is an ass, and I effectively quit from being his tutor today.”

Sana tilts her head. “But I thought you guys were getting along okay.”

You snort. “Understatement of the fucking year.” You push yourself up into a sitting position. “That bitch was only using our tutoring sessions to study for potions. The fact that he can’t even fit in supplemental lessons just to make sure he remembers what we’ve gone over. And when I brought it up he was so disrespectful about it! As if I don’t have other things to think about, and like he just expects me to worry about him on a daily basis!” You give Sana a look, before sighing and throwing yourself back onto your bed. “Whatever, it’s done. I can just go back to focusing on my own studying. Hoseok can drown for all I care.”

Sana smiles as she reaches over to brush the hair that has fallen across your face. “How about we go down to Hogsmeade. I’ll buy you some candy, that should help you get over that jerk.”

You lift your head to focus on your friend, the corner of your lips quirking up at her offer.

“Okay, but I’ll just let you know that I won’t hold back,” You say, sliding off the bed and digging through your trunk to get your coat.

“Since when do you ever?” Sana retorts, as the pair of you break off into giggles, making your way down the stairs into the common room and out into the castle halls.

The crush of footsteps against the grass underneath gives away the arrival of new company. You’re laying in the courtyard outside of the castle, blanket under you and your own copy of Advanced Potion-Making at the edge of your fingertips. All it takes is one glance up to know who has decided to visit you.

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “Didn’t I say you should figure out your own way to pass potions?”

Above you, Jung Hoseok shifts nearly on his stance, switching from one foot to another before he settles on standing straight. He’s doing something you haven’t seen him do in the many years you’ve been in his company: he’s staying quiet.

His silence leaves you with little choice but to follow along. You push yourself up into a sitting position and lean back enough for your arms to aid in the upcoming of your posture. “How was the Three Broomsticks?” You ask. “You seemed excited to go off with your friend.”

Hoseok winces at that.

You catch it. “Yeah, I heard you laugh when Namjoon said it looked like you weren’t doing anything. How do you think something like that makes me feel? Invisible? Like shit, perhaps? Well then, you would be right.”

Hoseok sighs. His eyes flicker down to an open spot on your picnic blanket. “C-Can I… Can I sit?”

You only continue to glare at him. “No.”

He ignores you, electing to just sit down anyways.

You sigh. “First you can’t even respect my wishes, then you just go off and do whatever you want to anyways.”

Hoseok glares right back at you. “Because I know you won’t listen to me otherwise. Just hear me out, alright?”

You engage in a staring match with him, before scoffing and returning the attention back to your book. “Don’t you have another date at the Three Broomsticks to attend to?”

Hoseok blinks once, twice, before looking down to fix his attention on the edge between the picnic blanket and the grass. “I didn’t go,” He admits quietly, under his breath.

You tilt your head back, eyes rolling back momentarily before you train your gaze back onto him. “I can’t hear you—why even show up if you can’t even have an honest discussion with me—?”

“I said, I didn’t go,” Hoseok cuts in, louder this time with a tinge of frustration in his tone. “Just because I laugh with someone doesn’t mean I agree with them. That’s why you were so mad, am I right?”

Instead of denying or confirming his answer, you keep your mouth shut.

That seems to be enough for Hoseok, who sighs as he runs a hand through his hair—the frustration over whatever miscommunication he thinks occurred between the two of you clearly affecting him. “Anyways,” He continues. If he’s baffled by your silence, he chooses not to comment on that. A good choice, honestly. “I didn’t go, so can we just continue our tutoring sessions?”

You keep your gaze on him for a moment, before you look back down at your book. You pucker your lips together. “Nope,” You answer, emphasizing the ‘p’ sound.

Hoseok recoils, taken aback by your response. “What? Why not?”

You shut your book, a silence acceptance that you weren’t going to get any reading done at this rate. “If you think I’m just mad about you laughing at some stupid comment your friend made, then you’re a lot dumber than I thought and you would drive the auror department right into the ground. I don’t need that energy around me right now, so good day to you.” You open your textbook right back up and look down. However, it feels as if you’re staring straight through the page, not really absorbing the material and rather just waiting for Hoseok to make his next move.

He does react with a scoff, looking away for a moment before training his gaze back on you. He’s quiet, and you think that he really is going to walk away, but he goes for his bag. Rummaging around, he produces a stack of ripped parchment papers. He stares down at his collection, before he hands the stack to you. “Here.”

Your eyes flicker from the papers to his face. To your surprise, Hoseok actually looks embarrassed by what he’s showing you. His meekness gives the encouragement you need to reach out and take the stack. “What is this?” You ask, looking down anyways to find your answer.

Your heart beats a little quicker at the sight—but it’s not an acceleration due to frustration or irritation. It’s something softer and quieter—touching.

In your hands is a stack of flashcards ripped from a roll of parchment: potion ingredients on one side and all the requirements you had mentioned previously scribbled on the other side.

Hoseok watches you carefully. “I, uh,” He starts. “I turned down going to the Three Broomsticks yesterday to work on these. Uh… I’m sorry. For being a dick. I shouldn’t have laughed at what Namjoon said. What I should have been doing was studying on my own though, especially since I know that I have my own shortcomings as a student. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you going out of your way to help me. I should have been a better student, so… yeah. I understand if you don’t want to tutor me anymore. But I didn’t want us to end on terrible terms.” He reaches his arm back out to you, silently asking for the return of his flashcards.

It’s a request you don’t follow through on immediately. You stare between Hoseok and the cards he has just handed you and feel a soft flutter in your stomach—a notion of fondness? Or perhaps is it pride? Either way, it feels like you are seeing Jung Hoseok in a somewhat different light. His meekness and shy nature is coming out in more ways than you had ever expected it too and you are taken aback, and yet it heightens the curiosity you have for him. What other layers does Hoseok have? And are you willing to take the risk and find out?

Hoseok raises an eyebrow at your unmoving stance. He jerks his hand up and down a few times to get your attention. “Hello? You good in there?”

You snap out your trance, staring at Hoseok for a moment before looking back down at the flashcards. You skim through a few of them, thumbing through the parchment and flipping over a handful just to see what he’s written. He’s… surprisingly thorough.

You close your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. You better not regret this.

You extend your arm to return the stack of parchment back to Hoseok. “If you want, we can go over the details to make sure you can be as thorough as possible.”

Hoseok takes his flashcards back, looking up to meet your gaze at the statement. He seems to be analyzing your expressions, waiting for you to tell him to piss off all over again. But when you don’t say anything, he speaks up. “What are you saying…?”

“Look,” You cut in softly, looking down and refusing to make eye contact this time around. “You have already put in all this effort to apologize to me and I can see that you’re working hard. At this point, it seems like a waste if you aren’t able to pass your exam.”

Hoseok looks stunned at your answer.

You look away again. “Besides,” You continue. “I don’t want you to come bitching me if you happen to fail your exam and tell me that I held your fate in my hands—I don’t want you to make me feel guilty about this. That’s all.”

Hoseok processes what you’re saying quickly, because he nods and flashes you a grin. But you can see the weight of tension and stress melt off his shoulders, because he holds himself up a little higher as nods a few more times. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I’ll, uh, let you get back to your own studying.” He straightens up, but keeps his gaze on you. “At the library after lunch tomorrow, right?”

You kiss your teeth, pointing an index finger at him. “Sounds good, Jung Hoseok.”

Rather than look back down at your notes, you find your gaze trailing after Hoseok’s retreating form. You watch the way he walks over to Jimin—the way the pair of them talk briefly before Hoseok is gesturing to you with the wave of his arm. Jimin looks at you, makes brief eye contact with you, before you’re turning away to gaze back down at your textbook.

You cannot pretend you don’t feel the weight of Jimin’s stare as you wait for the two of them to disappear from your line of sight.

Hoseok is waiting by the entrance of the library by the time you show up, and the nervous shift in his weight tells you all you need to know about his apprehension.

“Hi,” You greet, approaching him as Hoseok looks up to regard you almost cautiously. “Are you ready for today?” At his nod, you lean back in your body weight. “Just because you apologized doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you, okay Jung?”

He just nods again.

“I just have one little quiz to give you before we can get started,” You continue. “If you can’t answer this, then you really are hopeless. But if you can answer it, I’ll tutor you and we can forget all this other shit happened. Tell what bezoars are and their purpose.” You ignore the face Hoseok gives you when you bring up the potential hopelessness of the situation.

Bezoars—a reference to the very first question you asked him when you started this whole tutoring session.

The vague allusion makes Hoseok laugh. Just a little though, because the smile disappears when he notices that you aren’t fucking around with that question. So he settles down and opens his mouth to answer the question. “Bezoars is an antidote for most poisons with the exception of basilisk venom, and it’s taken from the stomach of a goat. It’s formed from the collection of hair or plant fibre that settles in the gut of the animal. Most effective when you swallow it whole.” He wavers slightly. “That’s pretty much the basics.”

You nod. “Impressive.”

He shrugs half-heartedly. “I uh, pretty much stayed up all night working on those flashcards, which is where I learned all about bezoars.”

You nod again. “Alright, that answer satisfies me.” You gesture towards the entrance of the library. “We are free to continue on with the lessons.”

As you walk into the library, Hoseok is right behind you. “Are you saying you would have just walked away if I didn’t know the answer?”

You snort. “Of course. It’s been a month since we started the tutoring session—if you didn’t know what bezoars were I would have run for the hills. Hence, me calling you hopeless.”

“But naturally you aren’t going to do that,” He says, sliding into the seat at the table booth you’ve selected for the pair of you. “Because I’m awesome.”

You glare at him, letting his self-praise settle for the matter of four seconds. “Okay,” You say, standing up and collecting your books in your arms once more. “It was really nice knowing you, Jung Hoseok, but I’m about to go run for the hills now—!”

“Wait, wait, okay, I’m kidding, nevermind—!”

Things get better after the conversation in the courtyard. Two weeks and two tutoring sessions later, Jung Hoseok is already in the library at your usual sitting spot by the time you arrive. You’re still in the haze of your lunch coma, but you become more alert at the sight of him hunched over his textbook.

You pull your seat back, causing Hoseok to jump in surprise at your arrival. There is, however, a bag in your seat, one that Hoseok quickly tugs back onto his own lap. “S-Sorry,” He manages, flashing you a small smile. “I was just saving the seat for you.”

You press your lips together to hide the momentary gap in your expression. “Thanks,” You return, sliding into the now vacant chair and placing your bag on the desk. “What are you working on today?”

“I’m reading about garrotting gas,” Hoseok answers almost proudly, straightening up enough to flash you his textbook and the parchment he has set aside to take notes. After flashing a quick peek, you are clearly able to see the long line of bullet points he has made.

“Wow,” You say, impressed by how far he’s gone. “You’ve covered a lot. When did you even get to the library?”

Hoseok smiles sheepishly. He touches the back of his neck, a habit you’ve noticed recently that takes form in the presence of nerves. “About thirty minutes ago actually. I know garrotting gas is pretty advanced stuff so I wanted to get a head start. Plus… since Professor Slughorn taught it about a month ago I know I’m still behind.”

“Nah, you’re catching up rather quickly, actually,” You interject with a smile of your own. “The fact that we’ve been able to cover all the first exam’s topics within the week is awesome. Your flashcards have really helped out.” You turn your attention to your own bag, missing the soft look Hoseok sends your way. It vanishes as soon as you look at him again. “Plus garrotting gas will be on the N.E.W.T. Nice to see that you’re planning ahead.”

Hoseok actually rolls his eyes at that. Playful, but unbelieving. “I need to pass this potions exam first before I can think about the N.E.W.T.s. “

You laugh, reaching across the way to rest your hand on his shoulder. “At this point, if you don’t pass that potions exam, I will literally throw you off the Astronomy tower.”

The next tutoring session comes on a Sunday, per Hoseok’s request.

“I just want you to test me on the two potions we went over right after the first exam,” He explains. He’s selected a different spot in the library today: a table in the main area with enough space for the pair of you to sit opposite of each other. Something about you sitting directly across from him feeling more official, or something like that. You don’t understand it, but Hoseok seems eager to try.

So you nod, folding your fingers atop one another as you give Hoseok a look. “Alright. So garrotting gas and the garnish pink blended poison, correct? Just to make sure you didn’t skip ahead.”

Hoseok feigns a gasp, pressing his hand to his chest. “I would never.”

You snort at that, closing your eyes and shaking your head. Clearly, it’s a rejection of an attitude Hoseok once held for the potions curriculum. The fact that you are able to joke about it and earn an equally sarcastic reply back shifts something in your heart—he’s now smiles with teeth.

The pair of you go at it for a little bit—“garrotting gases are colorless that causes choking or even suffocation because the gas catches people by the neck if someone were to walk through it, and garnish pink blended poison are pink in color that have ten different components for ingredients. According to Golpalott’s Third Law, the effects of the poison could be countered with the adequate antidote or a bezoar.”

You nod, corner of your lips turning up. “Good job. And you brought Golpalott in as well, which is always a plus. I would say that you pass the review then.”

Hoseok grins and makes a little noise of satisfaction, a quiet little burst of excitement that makes your stare linger for an extra moment. Having never heard a sound like that from him, it makes you wonder what more he’s hiding from you. It’s also such a happy sound that you cannot help but smile back at his own happiness.

Hoseok drums his fingers on the table, the smile still plastered to his face. “Hey, uh, want to cut this session early and enjoy some sunlight for once? Jungkook is in the middle of Quidditch practice and sometimes I like to go watch what he’s up to. Want to join me?”

You blink at his offer, surprised that he would ask you something so forward. Not that Hoseok is a stranger by any means, shapes, or forms, yet you would never consider the pair of you friends or even people that hung out outside the barriers of your normal interactions. Which is why you are shocked by his offer. “You want me to join you?” You ask instead.

Hoseok flushes at your question. He may have softened around the edges but it’s hard to let go of old expectations and it shows. “I-I mean,” He starts. “Obviously you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to. I just figured that you’d still be here studying when you could go get out and get some sun. Not that you couldn’t have gotten sunlight on your own, I just thought—!”

“Hey, Jung Hoseok,” You interrupt, unable to hide the smile of pure amusement that takes over at the sight of him being so flustered. You’ve never seen him stammer through anything before. “What are you so nervous for? I’ll go to the Quidditch practice with you.”

He blinks. “Really?” At your expression, he springs right into action. “Oh yeah, of course. His practice just started so let’s get going!”

The pair of you start packing up you belongings, albeit not much was taken out to begin with given that Hoseok had only asked to meet up for a single purpose, so it doesn’t take long until you’re exiting the library and making your way through the hallways that will lead to the entrance of the castle. You and Hoseok talk briefly about Jungkook and some old memories, but most conversations fade out into a comfortable silence.

You don’t mind the lack of talking. Hoseok’s presence has never made you uncomfortable per say. Irritated, annoyed, or frustrated would definitely be a better word to describe the nature of the dynamic you’ve always shared with Hoseok. Yet lately with all of your previous interactions, it seems to have softened the frustration into something else. What that something is, you aren’t entirely sure yet but you aren’t opposed to finding out.

“You’re right, the sunlight is pretty soothing,” You speak up as the pair of you continue through the grassy fields and the flags and hoops of the Quidditch field grow larger with every step.

Hoseok hums. “Was I right in that you were just going to continue studying on your own as soon as I left?”

You cough. “W-Well, you weren’t wrong.” At his laugh, you immediately whirl to glare at the boy. “What’s wrong with studying huh!”

“Nothing, nothing!” He protests, waving his hands back and forth. “Actually, I guess it’s good you’re a nerd who likes to study so much. Otherwise we wouldn’t have become friends.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is an anchor,” You grumble, ignoring the fact that he’s just called you a friend—and further ignoring the fact that you aren’t completely grossed out by that label.

Hoseok scoffs. “You dare use that word of insult against me? After everything we’ve been through!”

“It’s not an insult,” You protest wildly despite the fact that it is, indeed, an insult. “It’s… well…”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Go on,” He beckons. “I’m listening.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Oh! Hey, look, it’s the Quidditch field!” You exclaim loudly, gesturing to the now extremely tall structure of stands and hoops above. “Shall we head up?” You ask, pointing upwards to indicate the higher elevation the pair of you will have to take in the hopes of seeing the Quidditch practice in its full glory.

Hoseok points at you. “This conversation isn’t over.” He does, however, drop it long enough to lead the both of you into the tent and up the wooden stairs. It’s a long trek up to the top of the stands where the seats are located, but you make it eventually. Several other students are scattered across the area, some are grouped together with friends and others are watching the practice with bright eyes and wide smiles.

Hoseok seems to notice you staring curiously at the solo watchers because he leans over to whisper something in your ear.

“Those are some of Jungkook’s fangirls,” Hoseok explains, subtly gesturing to a few. “I recognize that one. And that one. And the one over there too.”

You snort. “Seems like you’re also one of Jungkook’s fangirls if you can point some of them out so easily.”

Hoseok chokes, taken aback by your analysis. He recovers quickly however. “Hell yeah I’m one of Jungkook’s fangirls. And I actually get to sit with him at lunch.” He winks.

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Cocky as ever, I see.”

The pair of you continue walking until you reach a more secluded area of the stands, less occupied by other students, so you and Hoseok can continue to converse amongst each other.

“Not cocky enough, apparently,” Hoseok notes quietly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat and looking out to watch the Quidditch practice. Up ahead, Jungkook performs some sort of twirl—a movement you aren’t super familiar with given that you aren’t the biggest observer of Quidditch technicalities. But it seems impressive, if the little shrieks and screams coming from the fangirls’ Hoseok pointed out to you are anything to go by. “You agreed to still tutor me even after calling me out on my bullshit.”

You laugh. “Well, I would argue that me calling you out made you less of a cocky person.” You turn to him, nudging his arm with your own. “I never got to bring this up, but you’re actually a good student and you’re actually really good at studying. I didn’t know you were holding back on me, Jung.”

Hoseok hums. “Not even.” He goes quiet for a moment, lacing his fingers together at his lap. “Well, I’m sure you know my family.”

You snort. “As if. I probably expose that fact to people at least three times a day—!”

Hoseok’s eyes glint. “Wait, you’re the reason I get auror-hopefuls coming up to me at random intervals of the day?”

“Uh…” You trail off. “You know what, never mind about that. Keep going, you know, you and your family and stuff. Sounds like you were going in an interesting direction.”

His glare softens the more he looks at you. “Well, coming from such an impressive family, honestly I never saw myself as someone who needed to apply himself. Things were always just sort of… handed to me, I guess? I grew up with Jungkook—I took him to his first Quidditch match actually. And then we just took more people into our group. Anyways, since things were handed to me, it just feels like I never have to try so hard because rewards were always the expectation.”

You nod slowly. “That’s why you poured hiccough sweet over my breakfast food when I refused to tutor you.”

He nods back, surprisingly acknowledging his past prank on you. “Yeah but since you’ve been cool about helping me out, it feels different. No one in my family has ever praised me or told me that I did a good job on something. So having you around fills me with pride. It’s getting to my head honestly, so you might need to stop otherwise I’ll revert back to my old ways.”

Realizing that he’s slowly transcending back into his arrogant mode, you scoff and roll your eyes as you look away from him. “How about you just use your common sense and stop yourself before that happens.”

Hoseok blinks. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

You make a face at him. “I’m always being serious.” With that, you turn your attention back to the practice session in front of you, missing the way Hoseok stares at you before smiling to himself and fixing his own attention back on the flying broomsticks ahead.

One week before the next potions exam, you tell Hoseok to meet you along the edge of the Forbidden Forest where you are waiting with a textbook and a task in your mind. Hoseok shows up moments after you’ve gotten settled. The boy is all bundled up in a scarf and a long coat—all prepared to fight the winter weather that is threatening to overtake the school.

You smile at his arrival. “Hello, Jung Hoseok.”

Despite the layers that Hoseok is sporting, he still finds himself shivering slightly from the cold that seems to pass through him like nothing. “Aren’t you cold? What the fuck are we doing out here?”

You shrug half-heartedly, a smirk dancing across your lips. “Oh I’m fine. See, I like to come prepared.” And prepared you are, with your thick fluffy scarf, fur-lined coat, and beanie that covers your ears. “This is a metaphor for our lives.”

“No it’s not.” Hoseok deadpans across from you.

You ignore him. “But alas!” You continue, opening your arms out wide for him. “The potions exam is one week away. Are you ready?”

Hoseok presses his lips together, giving you a shrug. “I don’t know, probably, I guess—!”

“Wrong answer!” You interject. “You should be ready. Do you realize how much time we’ve both put aside for this moment? Have more confidence!”

“Is that why we’re out here?” He grumbles.

You sigh after a moment, lowering your arms and leveling Hoseok with a glance. “No, that confidence should have been second nature to you by now. We’re here because I want to give you one final test.”

“Oh.” Hoseok seems to straighten up at the mention of a final measurement to see how much he’s learned thus far. “Okay…” He ponders this for a moment before settling back down—probably just to acknowledge to himself that this was actually happening. “What kind of test?”

You untuck your copy of Advanced Potions Making from under your arm and wave the book at him. “A finding test. This is really important, not just for Professor Slughorn’s exams but for the N.E.W.T.s as well. I like to kill two birds with one stone. I want you to find the ingredients for a potion of my choice. The one I’ve picked should make it easy for you to access the ingredients around this area—that is, if you know where to look.”

“Okay… okay….” Hoseok replies, shifting the gears of focus in his mind, mentally preparing for the challenge. “What potion am I working for?”

You smile at his question. “Elixir to Induce Euphoria, if you please.”

Hoseok ponders that potion deeply for a second before he looks over at you. “When can I start?”

Your grin widens. “Now.”

So Hoseok runs off to gather the materials, to search high and low if necessary to find what he is looking for. You imagine that the ingredients necessary must be engraved in his mind, since this particular elixir is something the pair of you have just recently gone over in your tutoring sessions. Based on the reading you were both doing on the elixir, you know that all the ingredients could be found within the forest—albeit, the difficulties could be found from not knowing the specific flower to pick or which trees produce which kind of leaves. In the wintertime, with everything as bare as it is, it adds a level of challenge in identification.

Yet, you are still confident in Hoseok’s abilities. The book knowledge he’s gained from the readings and the random quizzes you’ve had together definitely leave you with the sense that a practical test is fully possible considering how much progress he’s made.

Hoseok comes back within twenty minutes, fingers clasped around the various goods and materials he has collected from the forest.

You hold out your hands to inspect the ingredients, but Hoseok doesn’t hand them over right away. He holds them back, bringing the materials closer to his body. “Hold on,” He says. “I should tell you how to use the ingredients right? I’m sure that would be part of a test.”

You think about this. “Fair point,” You agree, but you still hold your hand out. “Here, you can just give things to me in the right order.”

Hoseok nods, looking down to sort through the various ingredients before he’s lifting up the first. “First, you add shrivelfig.” He holds up a purple fruit, roughly the size of his palm. “Originally from Abyssinia, but it’s an aggressive root allowing it to grow anywhere. I’m guessing that’s why Hagrid and Professor Sprout made a magically controlled garden for them near his hut.” He puts the fruit down into one of your open palms. “Next, add some porcupine quills—from porcupine, naturally.” He puts the few spines he has collected carefully into your hand. “Then you…” He searches his mind, finally snapping his fingers when he finds his answer. “Right, you stir four times in an anti-clockwise motion.”

You watch him carefully, the corner of your lips turning up as you feel that rush of excitement and pride starting to take over you. He’s getting it all right so far.

Seeing your smile, he continues. “The possible side effects of the elixir of induced euphoria include excessive singing and nose-tweaking so to combat that you should add a spring of peppermint right here…” He places the spring of peppermint in your open palm. “Add sopophorous beans… and finally some wormwood.” He, to your surprise, produces a tiny flask.

Your eyes widen at the sight. “I-Is that where you put the wormwood?”

The wormwood part of the ingredient is actually derived from the wormwood plant, meaning that there was a certain level of extraction required to gather this particular material. Knowledge that Hoseok had to put an extra level of thought into acquiring the wormwood makes your smile only grow wider. You don’t even have half the mind to ask where he got the flask.

Hoseok gives you a tentative look. “D-Did I get it?”

“You did!” You exclaim, throwing the ingredients up into the air and out of your hands. You start bouncing in place, unable to contain your excitement. “Y-You exceeded my expectations, and the fact that you wanted to tell me the process and you had a storage container for the wormwood plant? That just blows my mind right now!” The fact that Hoseok has gone from someone who once refused to pick up his own textbook to someone who voluntarily wanted to relay information from you, to someone who has become so prideful and confident about the straight facts he’s ripped for you—it gets to you.

So much so that without warning, you find yourself cupping his cheeks and kissing him right at the corner of his mouth.

The reality hits you as the icy cold realization washes through your veins. You back up immediately, holding your hands out as your heart takes to pounding as loud as it can in your chest. What the fuck did you just do? It was a spur of the moment reaction, sure, but again, what the fuck?

Hoseok looks just as shocked as you, looking across with equally wide eyes at what has just transpired.

Quickly, the humiliation floods through you. “O-Oh my god Hoseok I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” You brush off, taking a few necessary steps backwards and trying to wave off the previous action with your hand—as if something like that is even possible.

Hoseok snaps out his trance quickly, leveling you with an unreadable gaze. “Hey, no, it’s okay—!”

“No, no, it’s not okay,” You interject, feeling yourself start to spiral slightly as you run a hand through your hair. “That was such an unwanted advancement on you. I just… I don’t know what happened.”

Hoseok becomes a little bolder at that, stepping towards you. “Y/N, I said it’s fine, I—!”

“You don’t need to say anything,” You cut in again, giving him a tight smile. “I’m already embarrassed enough as it is—no need to chew me out for doing something stupid.” Without looking to see his next reaction, you kneel down to gather the ingredients (and the flask of wormwood) into your hands. You don’t make eye contact with Hoseok as you practically shove the materials into his chest. “Y-You did really well, I’m confident you’ll pass the upcoming test for sure.” You continue to stare at the ground. “I’ll, uh, see you around then.”

Without waiting for him to say anything—for him to reject you—you run off, knowing that this time, you yelling into a pillow or crying will be for something entirely different from frustration.

Hoseok doesn’t see you until the potions exam, and even then you are a blur of robes and colors as you shuffle past him and into your seat right in front of him. Before he even has half the mind to reach over and talk to you, Professor Slughorn passes out the exams and the class is reduced to complete silence.

You hand your test in before Hoseok even reaches the last page.

But when Hoseok turns in his exam, he is confident—which is an emotion that doesn’t usually accompany him in these types of situations. The fact that he knows all of this confidence came from you only widens the gap of loneliness he feels when he knows he won’t be able to celebrate the completion of the exam with you.

Professor Slughorn eyes Hoseok carefully as he takes the exam from him. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow to see your grade, Mr. Jung, so you can act accordingly.”

Hoseok nods, ignoring the way his heartbeat is pounding through his ears. “Of course, professor.”

That night, he sits in the Three Broomsticks, surrounded by friends but feeling alone. Not even Park Jimin, who lifts up a glass of his butterbeer in congratulatory graces, can shift Hoseok into Party Mode. So much so that Hoseok excuses himself from the restaurant to linger outside and dig his feet into the snow.

He’s wandered off for so long that he isn’t surprised by Jungkook exiting the restaurant to check up on him. The latter boy shivers slightly, hands digging themselves into his coat pocket as he runs up to his friend. “Hey, everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head, big doe eyes watching his friend curiously.

Hoseok regards Jungkook momentarily before he’s looking back out at nothing. “Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.”

Jungkook hums. “I thought you’d be happy. You’ve dedicated so much time to studying for that potions exam, after all. I really imagined that you would be through the roof. Maybe you’d celebrate with that girl who’s been tutoring you. I saw you guys show up to my Quidditch practice game that one time, it seemed like you were pretty close.”

Hoseok huffs. “Well, I thought we were. I don’t know.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “You want to talk about it?”

So Hoseok talks. Only for a little, as to not bore Jungkook with useless details like the color of your eyes or the prettiness of your smile. He sticks to a storyline, discussing the nature of your relationship—starting from the arguments, going through his apology, and ending on your kiss. “She started apologizing like crazy,” He continues. “And going off on how uncalled for it was for her to do that. I was surprised, sure, but I wasn’t opposed to kissing her! Or her kissing me for that matter. But I tried to tell her and I guess she thought I was gonna reject her? Anyways that’s when she left and I saw her for a bit during our potions exam, but she seems hell bent on ignoring me.” He looks over at Jungkook, gauging for a reaction or even just a piece of advice.

Jungkook remains silent, lips pressed together.

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Nevermind. I forgot you’re a womanizer and don’t need to worry about this kind of stuff.”

Jungkook pouts. “When you put it like that…”

Hoseok ignores him, choosing instead to straighten up into a standing position. “Anyways, let’s go back inside.”

The following day, as Hoseok is heading towards the dungeons to get his exam score from Professor Slughorn, he spots you sitting at one of the open window sills with Sana. Blame his sixth sense for being able to detect your position, but his feet move before his brain can. One second, he’s standing at the edge of the hallway, and the next second he’s standing in front of you and Sana.

Sana parts her lips in greeting, the smile ever-present across her lips. “Hey Hoseok—!”

“I need to talk to you,” He interrupts, reaching for you until he’s grabbing your wrist. Without warning, he hauls you up and drags you up onto your feet. Ignoring your flabbergasted expression, he pulls you down the hallway into a secluded corner. Most of the general area lacks people and footsteps, but he prefers the privacy.

He doesn’t even realize you’re trying to yank out of his grasp until he drags you forward to stand in front of him. Noticing your struggle, he lets go of you immediately. He manages a quiet apologize, one that you don’t notice because you are already opening your mouth to argue. “Are you crazy?” You shout. “Do you just always go around interrupting people’s conversations and being rude to my friends? Did you take some crazy pills this morning?”

“Yah!” Hoseok cuts in. “I wouldn’t have had to do that if the person I’m trying to talk to wasn’t actually a child who thinks avoiding me can retroactively erase a month’s worth of interactions!”

“I’m not trying to erase anything!” You argue back. Hoseok gives you a look, and you retreat slightly. Only slightly. “Intentionally, anyways,” You mutter. “But okay fine! What does it matter to you anyways? I’m embarrassed alright! I did something uncalled for and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole but I couldn’t do that so just being away from you seemed like the next best thing.”

Hoseok maintains his glare on you. “Why would you be embarrassed?”

You look like you want to snap his neck. “Because!” You start, voice initially loud and projecting clearly through the halls. You lower your voice into a hiss. “Because I kissed you,” You grit out between your teeth. “And just exposed the fact that I kind of like you now—!”

“Okay but,” Hoseok interrupts. “I really like you too. And I didn’t mind that you kissed me.”

You stop short, craning away from him. “Wait, what?”

Hoseok gives you a small smile, but he diverts his gaze as to not embarrass himself fully. “I think you’re cool. And you would have heard me say that yesterday if you hadn’t run away like a dumbass!”

Your face feels hot suddenly. “Hey, you were just staring at me! How else was I supposed to react!”

“You had kissed me when I wasn’t expecting it! Sorry for trying to process things like a normal person!” He snaps back.

You pout. “You should have run after me then. I felt like shit all day yesterday!”

Hoseok makes a face back at you. “I’m not a mind-reader, how was I supposed to know that?”

You sigh at that, bringing your fingers up to press against the bridge of your nose. “Okay, okay. At this rate, this argument will go back and forth for years.”

“Sure,” Hoseok relents, backing away for a moment. “But I’m not a mind-reader.”

You clench your hands at your side. “Fine, fine, I got it. I shouldn’t have run away, but—!” You raise a hand up to point a finger at him. “You should have been more transparent about your feelings!” With a huff, you lower your arm back down and cross them over your chest. “Anyways, uh…” You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow as you try really hard to keep the smirk from taking over your lips. “You like me too, huh?”

Hoseok purses his lips out, also trying to hide his smile. “Maybe.”

You start laughing, twirling your hair around your finger. “What was that, Jung Hoseok?”

He glares. “Actually, what I need to tell you isn’t that important.”

“No, no, c’mon,” You say, reaching out to latch around his arm. “Tell me.”

Whether it’s the pout in your voice or the glint in your eyes daring him to refuse you, he relents. “I’m going down to the dungeons right now—Professor Slughorn offered to grade my test early so I could, uh, prepare any next steps. I was just wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Your gaze softens. “Yeah, I’ll go with you. Let me just let Sana know what’s up.”

You make a quick detour back to Sana, still sitting at the windowsill, but she nods when you update her on the situation. Together, you and Hoseok make your way down the hallways and towards the dungeon. Hoseok doesn’t even realize how nervous he is until he reaches the steps leading downwards and his heart is thrumming to its own beat.

You notice, because of course you do. “Hey,” You call softly, reaching over to take his hand. You squeeze it in your own. “You’ve prepared so hard for this. If you don’t get an Outstanding, I will go up to Professor Slughorn myself and tell him to stick his grading up his ass.”

Knowing that you’re just trying to reassure him, he gives out an airy laugh of appreciation. “Thanks.” He squeezes your hand back before letting go. “I’m going in now,” He says, taking the stairs down towards his destiny.

Professor Slughorn is in the dungeons when Hoseok pushes open the room—the older man is at his desk at the front of the classroom, papers folding from one pile to another on its own. With every sheet of paper that settles in front of Professor Slughorn, there’s a few movements of his quill, before the paper moves on to its next pile. Overall, a very efficient system.

Professor Slughorn looks up at the sound of the door. “Ah, Mr. Jung. I was wondering when you were going to come in.” For a greeting, the statement is much too passive and neutral for Hoseok’s liking. Any indication of Hoseok passing or failing the test doesn’t shine through at all. “Well come in, come in. I have your exam ready.”

Gulping, Hoseok steps deeper into the classroom, the heels from his shoes clacking against the stone floor. As soon as he approaches the desk, Professor Slughorn draws his wand and a single wave is required to have an envelope move from one corner of the table into Hoseok’s awaiting hands.

“Best if you review your score outside, if you please,” The professor interjects, doing absolutely nothing to raise Hoseok’s confidence. The man hardly even spares him a glance as Hoseok turns around and exits the classroom—strangely filling like a dog with a tail tucked between his legs.

You’re waiting near the stairs when Hoseok exits, and you’re all ears and attentive stares as Hoseok reaches the top. “So? What happened?” At Hoseok’s solemn expression, your gaze hardens. “Alright, I’m talking to the professor.”

He stops you by tugging harshly at the sleeve of your robes. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

You stop in your trail, eying the envelope. “Well then, take a glance!”

With one final sigh, Hoseok looks down and tears open the parchment. He pulls out the script from inside—the paper with his exam grade. The red letters dance across the paper, the words PASS written next to Potions Examination. His eyes trail further down to see the ranking of his grade, to see if his hard work has paid off…

On the bottom, written in Professor Slughorn’s fancy cursive:

Classification: Outstanding

Hoseok jolts, his whole body moving backwards momentarily as if the words from the paper have slipped out to slap him across the face. He reads the single word once more, twice more, before he’s looking up at you with the widest grin. “Outstanding,” He relays.

And you’re moving towards him at once, jumping up and down until you’re wrapping your arms around his neck. Hoseok doesn’t even care for the suddenness of the gesture, instead wrapping his arms around your midsection and lifting you up into the air. “Jung Hoseok!” You’re gasping out, pulling away from him to place your hands on his shoulders. “You did it!”

“Hhhhholy shit,” Hoseok replies back, placing you back onto the ground but moving his hands to your waist instead. He sees you in front of him, bright eyed and full smiles with all teeth. “Thank you so much, I wouldn’t have done this without you.” One of his hands moves up to cup your cheek. “I could kiss you right now!”

Your grin widens. “Should have done that yesterday too, Jung.”

The smile slips off Hoseok’s face. “You’re really gonna bring that up against you son of a bitch—!”

You lean forward and kiss him. It’s just a peck, a press of your lips against his own, but your lips are so soft that he cannot help but lean forward himself as you pull away as quickly as you had come in. That grin is back on your lips. “I did say too,” You say with a twinkle in your eyes.

Hoseok almost rolls his eyes, before the door to the dungeons opens and you both hear a voice sound from the bottom.

“I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow, Mr. Jung,” Professor Slughorn calls, waving towards the pair of you—that smile finally pasted across his face. “Hopefully with a much better attitude from now on.”

You and Hoseok step away from each other, but Hoseok doesn’t let you go too far as he draps an arm around your shoulder. “Oh don’t worry professor,” He replies, looking down at you for a moment. “My girlfriend will make sure of that.”

#btswritingcafe #bangtan-bookclub #hoseok scenario #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #traci writes #hp reputation series

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cloud-9ine · 4 years

Text

Through a Golden Lens (pt 1)

⤷ pairing - hawks x (fem) reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - some language, hawks flirting, reader’s cynicism

⤷ summary - reader is a bitter, overworked photographer at a hero press agency with little patience for her newly assigned muse- hawks

⤷ word count - 4.5k+

⤷ notes - i have lots of ideas so this is probably going to be a multi-part series. also new to tumblr so this might not be the best

⤷ pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6

“Mr. Hawks! Please look this way!” his heavy lidded eyes rolled to the side as another blinding flash burned through his vision.

“You look perfect, thank you!” it was hard to smile for their benefit, but he managed. Hawks had attended countless of these events for the press. It had been exhilarating at first, with the rush of adrenaline from the cameras and the lights and the endless stream of compliments solidifying his place in the public eye.

Nowadays, it was less thrilling. After a while, they all seemed the same- each one blurring into a senseless flare of cameras and hollow accolades.

He was bored, to say the least.

“Mr Hawks, would you like to come and see? I’d love to hear your opinion on this set!” with a practiced, easy smirk he nodded. It was easier to pander to the artist than to criticise their work.

He looked good, but when did he not? The shoots were easy to glide through. All he had to do was pull a boyish grin, ‘make love to the camera’ as the photographers always liked to spout. It didn’t really matter what he did: the public would eat up anything with his face slapped on to the front. They all looked the same to him, anyway.

“Looks good,” he wondered why people were so easily satiated by shallow praises, but as he stared at the younger lady’s blush, he couldn’t help but realise that maybe it was him who had something to do with it.

Hawks couldn’t help his gaze from drifting to the door. His skin prickled in the humidity of all the moving bodies in one enclosed space and he longed to take a step outside and stretch his wings in a way that wasn’t to pose for a magazine.

For a moment, he felt like his prayers had been answered when the door opened, letting in a stream of natural light to breach the artificiality of the modelling room.

”(L/N)! You were supposed to be here over three hours ago!” the woman in front of him exclaimed, ripping the camera away from his view and marching to the figure that appeared in the light. He blinked in surprise: this entire shoot he hadn’t heard her raise her voice above anything but a low mumble when conversing with him, and now she was positively fuming.

You stared down at your co-worker through honey-tinted shades, expression unamused.

“Yeah, and I was also supposed to be out of this job three years ago. We don’t all do what we’re supposed to, cupcake.”

For a moment, Hawks thought you were a model. Tasteful cream turtleneck tucked into heavily creased mocha skirt, caramel beret perched on your head. There were a few metal, classy looking rings wrapped around your fingers, but as far as he could see, no wedding ring. It was pretty standard style for those who worked in the arts, but somehow you wore it so well.

Your hair was a little dishevelled, and the dark circles under your eyes combined with the coffee cup in your hand were obvious signs of a rough night. His eyes locked on to the loopy black handwriting on the brown band around the cup.

(L/N) (Y/N)

You were no model, but Hawks couldn’t see the difference.

His wings beat lightly behind his back as he glided over, weaving through the other photographers and models scattered around the area.

“Hey there, I’m Hawks,” he said smoothly, voice saccharine as he spoke to you. Your attention turned to him as you glanced at him from above the frames of your sunglasses, seemingly unimpressed.

“This the new boytoy, Mizuki?” you asked, eyes raking up and down his figure. Hawks was never one to shy away from the gaze of others, but the way you were inspecting him made him feel so exposed.

“Show some respect,” Mizuki muttered, voice lowered at Hawks’ presence but glare still piercing. You sighed, sparing one last glance at Hawks before snatching the camera out of Mizuki’s hands, leaving her scrambling for the device as you walked away.

“Lemme see what you’ve got already,” Mizuki’s face grew red, half from anger towards you, and half because of the embarrassment of being diminished in front of Hawks.

“(L/N) y-you can’t just come in three hours late and take over! I’ve already done the shoot and Hawks has already expressed that he is pleased with the outcome,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and shooting the shorter woman a glare over your shoulder.

“There’s no way you’re gonna force me to come into work and make me sit here doing nothing,” you sneered, waving the camera around almost teasingly, “you wanted someone actually skilled to do this shoot, and here I am. Let me do my thing,” without waiting for a response, you left, thumb fumbling with the dial that allowed you to scroll through the photos.

Hawks was impressed. You hadn’t bat an eye when you saw him, and while you were very clearly very late, you were confident in your skills and obviously took your job seriously.

“Who was that?” he questioned, wings spreading slightly as his eyes chased after you. Mizuki bowed her head, remorse filling her expression.

“I apologise for her impertinence. That’s (L/N), she was who your original photographer was supposed to be today, but when she didn’t show up I had to take over,” she huffed, “she’s been like this for about a year now, and the boss is prepared to fire her if she keeps it up. So you’d think she’d be able to pull her at together for you, Mr. Hawks...”

After a while, Hawks tuned out her whining, eyes curiously trained on you, surveying your furrowed brows and expression pinched with annoyance as you studied the photos. Although they looked good enough to him, it appeared that you didn’t share the same sentiment.

Hawks didn’t have time to avert his eyes when you turned your head, gaze locking on to his. You raised a slightly suspicious brow, but otherwise didn’t entertain his actions.

“Mizuki, why would you use cool lighting?” you called over your shoulder, not even sparing the decency to turn around and face the person you were addressing. Mizuki frowned, moving to your side. Like a magnet, Hawks did the same, peering over your other shoulder. You eyed him from the corner of your vision for a second before tapping the screen.

“What do you mean?” you sighed at your co-workers words, evidently frustrated.

“Considering you have bird boy over here in dark academia, accented in warmer yellows, using cool lights will bring out too much of a contrast. We need to match the accent colours with warmer lighting, or use a overlay,” you muttered, seemingly addressing yourself more than the two of them. Mizuki just shook her head.

“That would just oversaturate the image,” you snorted, giving her the same patronising look an adult would give a child if they tried to outsmart them.

“Not necessarily. I could spot-reduce saturation in highlight areas during editing. Or, if you really want your contrast, I could neutralise the warmer shades by using a blue, or compliment them using a red,” Hawks didn’t miss the way you said ‘I’ instead of ‘we’. Mizuki looked agitated, her frown growing deeper.

“Even so, we only have white backdrops. That would be a jarring contrast. You’d need something darker or more clustered to make it work. If you wanted a backdrop change you probably should’ve come earlier,” she spoke with a formality that obviously stemmed from Hawks next to her, but you paid no mind. You were silent for a moment, and Hawks could see your eyes narrowing as you were thinking.

“I need a natural background, huh?” you mumbled, thumbing the buttons on the camera. With a shrug, “alright, bird boy, come on, we’re leaving,” Hawks blinked in surprise as you spun on your heel, a grin breaking onto his face. Finally, he got to leave.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you shot him an irritated look.

“Don’t call me that. I’m 22, not 40,” his feathers ruffled up. “Hey, I’m also 22! What a coincidence, right?” he grinned, winking at you. You just responded by rolling your eyes.

Mizuki spluttered, trying in vain to get either one of you to stop as Hawks trailed after you.

“L-Look, you can’t just leave-” you turned, shoving the camera back into her hands, a mirthless smile on your face.

“Watch me,” your voice was cold, goading her to try and stop you, “bird boy, out, now.” Hawks didn’t have to be told twice. Some of the others whispered and muttered as they realised what was going on, but they all fell quiet when you shot them a sharp glare.

He breathed in the fresh air with a content sigh, his chest feeling lighter now he was out the cramped room. The amber glow from the late afternoon sun kissed his tanned skin as he stretched his arms above his head, his forearms flexing slightly under his dark blazer. His eyes shut in bliss and head tilted back, exposing his sharp jawline.

You eyed him slightly, eyes trailing across his features. Now that you had actually left, you were a little lost on what your plan was. You didn’t regret storming out of there, though, nor did you even consider turning back to apologise.

You took your own camera out of the dark camera bag slung across your body, careful not to scratch it on the tripod, and focused the lens on Hawks. It was smaller, a little more compact than the ones Mizuki and the others were using, but you found that it was much better suited for portrait work.

The click of the camera shutter brought Hawks out of his stupor, eyes snapping open and immediately landing on you. Your attention had already been diverted to the screen, studying your work.

“The modelling room is stuffy, I’ll give you that,” you mumbled, zooming in on his face, “but you can stretch while we walk,” Hawks leaned over you, eyes sparkling at the shot.

“Aw, you make me look so good, I’m flattered!” you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t be,” you took a large sip of your coffee, moving down the pathway as you thought. Hawks scrambled after you, his wings puffing out when he reached your side. You couldn’t help but gaze at the bright red feathers as he unfurled his wings, a small, happy chirping noise rumbling at the back of his throat once they were fully spread behind your back. They were warm, you noticed, feeling the heat through your turtleneck.

Your vision was filled with a cheeky smirk painted on full lips, Hawks’ face appearing in front of your eyes. Your eyes narrowed as you sized him up.

“See something you like?” you rolled your eyes as he purred.

“Not in the slightest, bird brain,” his wings beat behind his back, hand clutching the fabric on his chest.

“Oh, how you wound me!” Hawks cried, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly, which you quickly covered with your coffee cup.

“I’m sure you’ll face a villain that will do greater damage than I could,” he hummed, angling his face towards the sun.

“So, where are we headed?” you chewed on your bottom lip, slinging your camera over your shoulder.

“It can’t be anywhere with lots of traffic, you attract a lot of attention, you know?” it was a rhetorical question, but Hawks’ chest still puffed out in pride at your words.

“Thanks, it’s because of my raging-”

“Shut up,” you cut him off, “either way, I have a pounding headache and I do not have enough shits to give to put up with your fan girls today,” with a sigh, you rubbed your temples. Hawks stared at your clenched teeth.

“Hey, why do you-” “I think I know where we can go,” he frowned.

“You know it’s not polite to interrupt people like that-”

“Sunflowers.” your tone dripped finality as you faced Hawks, a brazen determination in your eyes he hadn’t seen until now. It made his breath hitch in his throat.

Breathy chuckle escaping his lips, and eyebrows furrowed when you sped your pace, gulping down more of your coffee.

“Uh, what?” you waved a hand dismissively.

“There’s a sunflower field in Fukuroi City, I think it’s west from here,” the tiniest of grins etched onto your features, “it’s gonna be a lot more interesting than the rest of those blank background. Plus, the yellow will compliment your clothes, and with the sun low in the sky I’ll get my perfect warm lighting,” you explained. Hawks wasn’t sure exactly how much of a difference it would make, but the idea seemed charming, and it was more exciting than being perpetually flanked by a white screen.

“Sounds good,” he chirped, “although, to be honest, you could take me out anywhere and I wouldn’t mind,” you rolled your eyes.

“That’s a shame, because I don’t intend to hang around any more than I have to,” Hawks pouted, crossing his arms.

“Come on, I wanna know more about you!” you bristled.

“Good for you.” the two of you fell into a beat of silence before Hawks smiled, undaunted.

“I’m sure I can win you over somehow,” shaking your head in disbelief, you lifted the cup to your lips, before looking down disappointedly when you realised it was empty.

“I don’t have enough coffee for this,” you muttered. Hawks’ expression brightened.

“That’s an easy fix: your agency is around here so you must know there area pretty well,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if he was on a casual lunch date and not in the most expensive outfit you’d seen in your entire life, “what’s the best place to grab a coffee?” for a moment, you looked taken aback, before shaking your head.

“Best café in these parts is the Sunset Hour,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “but as much as I have no inhibitions regarding bunking off work, that’s a little too far away. I need to take this pictures before the end of the day or Mizuki’ll submit those crappy ones she took in the studio,” Hawks nodded in understanding, smile never faltering for a second.

“Well I gotta get you your caffeine fix somewhere, so what’s the second best?” your expression scrunched in thought for a moment, before you jutted a thumb over your shoulder.

“There’s a Starbucks across the road,” he snickered seeing your blank expression.

“Not exactly where I would want our first date, but I suppose it’ll do,” rolling your eyes, you shoved the empty cup to his chest, which he gripped almost instinctively.

“Good thing this isn’t a date, then,” Hawks grinned, sending your empty cup on a feather to the nearest bin before chasing after you as you crossed the road. You didn’t spare him a single glance when he appeared at your shoulder, nor when he reached over above your head to open the Starbucks door from behind you.

“So you’re saying we can have our first date somewhere else?” with a shallow sigh, you shook your head.

“What I’m saying is that there’s not gonna be a first date. Not between us,” his chest tightened. God, you were so mean. He’d be into that.

The inside of the Starbucks was a mix between modern, western architecture and traditional Japanese woodwork. The equipment was all cutting edge, and the tables and chairs were made with a sleek mahogany, but the windows were framed with bamboo shutters, and the backroom was separated with shoji sliding doors. It was an curious blend, one that you studied with an interest. The deep, earthy scent of roasted coffee beans heavily imbued the air, filling your nose with the aroma of something far more familiar.

Given it was the late afternoon, and most people tended not to drink caffeine after 2pm, the patrons were few and far in between. Good for you, at least. It meant you wouldn’t get- “Hawks? Sorry to bother you but can we get a picture?” your head turned at the voice that rung out.

Two high school girls stood to your left, hands clutched together in front of their chests and a dark pink coating their cheeks. With a small sigh, you took a step forward in the small queue. Hawks smiled with all the faux charm in the world, an obvious change in his demeanour as his pride spiked.

“Of course! And just as it happens, I have my personal photographer here who can make sure your photos look amazing as you two do!” it took you a moment to register what he had said through the excited squeals of the girls before he clutched your shoulders and pulled you forward, causing you to stumble slightly.

“Your what?” he sent you an audacious smirk, willing you to play along as one of the girls handed you her phone. Your first instinct was to decline, but as you met the eyes of the girls, so eager and bright, you couldn’t find it in you to disappoint them.

Taking a couple steps back, you lifted the phone, slightly angling it so the picture looked more natural, and not that of a celebrity and their fans (even if it was). You squinted angrily at the poor lighting, but tried to rectify it the best you could. The girls looked a little tense, but Hawks was a natural. A liberal smirk played on his lips and shoulders rolled back, relaxed. Even with the low lighting, the highlights on his cheekbone and jawline were indescribably perfect, and you weren’t sure if the credit should go to you or his god-like genes.

“Wow, that’s perfect!” one of the girls cried, her body appearing by your side. You hadn’t even noticed her moving, “thank you so much!” you just nodded, handing her back her phone and crossing your arms, eyes narrowing at Hawks.

“If that’s all, ladies, we best be ordering,” they nodded frantically at Hawks’ words, sharply bowing and spouting their thanks to the two of you countless times. They left the Starbucks, but even outside you could still hear them fawning over the picture. He faced you with a grin, but you couldn’t muster up a smile.

“Don’t go around telling people I’m your personal photographer,” you sneered. He pouted, looking genuinely disappointed for a second. “What, you don’t wanna be mine?” “Not in the slightest.”

“What will be your order, Miss?” the barista had directed the question at you, but it was clear his attention was elsewhere. You weren’t surprised, but a small swell of annoyance grew in your mind.

“Can I have a mocha with a double shot of expresso?” Hawks chuckled.

“Might as well have an expresso, you know. You’re basically just taking a shot of caffeine,” you shrugged.

“It’s my favourite drink. I like the chocolate taste,” he looked at you with round eyes, a small squeeze in his chest.

“And you, sir?”

“Oh, I’ll have the same, then,” he didn’t miss the way your eyes darted to him. The barista nodded, tapping for a couple seconds before turning back.

“That’ll be 660 yen,” “I’m paying,” Hawks blurted, even before you could offer. You were silent, a small nod in the affirmative rocking your head. As he handed over the bills, he chuckled. “You know, not that I mind, but usually couples would argue over who’s paying,” you rolled your eyes.

“We’re not a couple,” you watched the barista prepare your drinks, more of a way to occupy yourself rather than a genuine interest, “besides, you’re a lot richer than I am. I don’t mean to be impolite, but I’m sure you can lose 600 yen and still be good,” he hummed happily.

“No disagreements there.” “Are you two eating in or taking out?” the barista asked, in the midst of securing the plastic lids to the top of the cups. Hawks’ eyes sparkled as he turned to you with an excitement you assumed only appeared in children.

“Hey, we can-” “Take out,” you responded, giving a now deflated Hawks a challenging look, “I will leave you here if I have to.” the blonde grinned. “You wouldn’t. You need me for the pictures,” he sang, voice jovial.

“I don’t care about you that much. The sunflowers are probably less annoying subjects anyway,” oh. With no warning, his heart beat sped up, his wings puffing out slightly. Sure, he wouldn’t mind if you were a little nicer to him, but your insults were like a breath of fresh air. There was no doubt that Hawks loved the limelight, loved the popularity he got, but the relentless ass-kissing got old after a while. You kept him on his toes. Even if he was just constantly chasing after you every time you brushed him off, he didn’t care.

“Put those away, bird brain,” it was then he realised his wings had spread further than he intended, stretched out on either side of him. One was curled right around his face, and he almost felt himself blushing as he pulled them in. It was just animal instincts, he assured himself.

The rest of the journey was filled with a one-sided conversation of him talking and commenting on what was around you, with no response from you except the occasional witty retort or light-hearted jab at his expense, each one making his heart flutter. It wasn’t too long before you had arrived, the chain link fence around the plot stretching high above your head and corroded with orange rust.

Rows and rows of bright yellow sunflowers stretched to the horizon, an immense display of summer vitality. The fragrance was potent, a sort of cloying sweetness that you didn’t hate. And just as you were about to enter, you knew you had made a mistake.

“Oh.” Hawks stared at you incredulously, attention switching from your taken aback expression to the sign posted on the gate.

“You didn’t check to see it was open?” you looked up at him, allowing him to survey a tinge of remorse he hadn’t recognised until this point.

“Look, how was I supposed to know? This place has always been open at this time since I was a little kid,” you rubbed your arm, brows furrowed. Hawks sighed, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well, the sun’s too low to go anywhere else outside,” he shrugged, “it’s no biggie, I guess. Those other photos weren’t too bad. Hey, now that we’re free, do you want to- what are you doing?” your foot was halfway in the gaps in the gate, the wedges on your heels making it hard to climb.

“I’m not wasting my day for nothing,” you growled, fingers curling around the metal, “get climbing, bird boy,” with a soft sigh, smile gracing his lips and a warm feeling in his chest, Hawks spread his wings.

“I think you’re forgetting something that’ll make this a lot easier,” you felt a cool draft on your back as Hawks flapped his wings, the feeling being quickly replaced by the warmth of his chest as he pulled you in. A foreign emotion coiled in your stomach, but you convinced yourself that it was just the flight.

One arm wrapped around your shoulders, the other supporting your knees, and all Hawks was thinking that such a gentle flight never felt so calming.

Your feet tapped against the soft soil, sinking in to it slightly when the hero placed you down. You nodded your thanks.

“Let’s go over there, I want the sun coming in from the right,” Hawks nodded, content to just follow your orders. You pulled the tripod from your bag and set it up, adjusting it to your liking as Hawks looked around, trying to think of a pose.

Once everything was ready, you turned your attention to Hawks.

“I want to humanise you,” he grinned curiously as you walked over.

“What do you mean by that?” he nearly gasped when you grabbed his chin, angling his face to the side and slightly up, towards the sun. You took a step closer, reaching up and running a hand through his hair. He bit his lip, hands trembling as you tugged slightly, trying to mess it up a little.

“All the photos I’ve seen on you always put a huge emphasis on either your wings or your hero status, and I don’t really see why,” you mumbled, placing one hand on his jawline while the other fixed his hair to your liking, letting a few strands fall in front of his eyes, “I think that just creates a divide. If they wanted you to seem angelic they should play that up, not just have it the norm,” you huffed, “anyway, I wanna put the emphasis on you and not your wings. So ideally if you could tuck them behind your back that would be wonderful,”

Hawks nodded, disappointment filling him as you stepped away. He made sure not to move as he awkwardly folded his wings over each other and pulled them in, glancing at you with a look of apprehension. You just nodded in approval, leaning down to your camera.

You took plenty of shots, allowing him plenty more opportunities to feel your hands on him (and he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it).

“Hey, why were you so late today?” Hawks dared to question while you were analysing your photos. You were perched on a bench, appreciating your work. The late sun cast a golden sheen on his skin, the spattering of glimmering rays highlighting his face in all the right places.

“I was sleeping,” you responded, deleting an out of focus shot. His eyes narrowed.

“What?” “Just as it sounds. Figured if they were gonna make me work so I could only have three hours of sleep a night it was gonna be on their time, not mine,” he frowned, taking a seat next to you.

“They shouldn’t work you that hard,” you shrugged with a hollow laugh, blank gaze in your eyes.

“What am I gonna do? Have them fire me? As much as I hate this job it’s the only thing that pays for my coffee in the morning,” he was silent as you stood up, stretching your arms behind your bag before tucking everything back in your bag.

“Did you want to be a photographer?” he questioned, only to be met with a forlorn smile.

“Maybe at one point.” the two of you lapsed into silence before you sighed.

“Well, I’ve gotta submit these to Mizuki, and I’m sure you need-” Hawks caught your wrist, spinning you back around.

In the glow of the sunset, you looked almost ethereal. Your eyes gleamed, and cheeks warmed in the orange flare. Sunflowers framed your form, and the words caught in his throat, nearly stopping him from saying anything at all.

“Come work for me.” he blurted. You snorted.

“No.” all he could do was smile as you hopped back over the fence, not waiting up for him.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought you’d say.”

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matchamorphosis · 3 years

Text

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 | ღ | 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || what seems to be a normal rich summer morning with the women who lives across the honeysuckle boulevard from his cottage lies something else. a buttery rich feeling that spreads deep within Bucky’s heart as he takes his neighbor, alongside Alpine to the farmers market for coffee.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 || fluffy fluff! ➳ part one

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 || retired!bucky barnes × neighbor![black//woc]reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 3K ➳ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 || @firefly-graphics

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || if you think long walks with bucky and alpine in the sunny countryside are warnings then so be it but there is lots of food mentioned. ღ also reader owns a flower shop, not a warning thought just some info!

𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 || this version of cherry wine by hozier ღ this version of mystery of love by sufjan stevens ღ

𝐰. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 || eeeeep!!! so this is my first bucky with alpine fluff and i’m very glad to have it be the first for my fluffy mini series that i’m doing for this month! ღ I don’t describe reader too much throughout the story but what is clear is that I don’t specify on skin tone but yes the person in the moodboard is a woc! ღ anyways I hope you cherubs enjoy reading! ღ

+ p.s || do not repost, republish or plagiarize my work on any other fanfic platform such as: wattpad, ao3, tumblr, etc or steal my work all together. do so and i will rip your spine from your scumy asshole and shove it down your talentless throat. ♡♡♡

it was a lavish affair when Bucky found himself tangled with you in the bed of a million perennial petals.

clothing falling and bodies twisting themselves against each other in not lust but emotional apprehension. the soft petals of rose, carnation and violet keep pouring like blissful rain, entangling in his hair and in the crooks of your body.

enough to suffocate but enough to make him feel enveloped in the fantasy- the divination of you you you and only you.

for you are butterscotch benevolence that he will let pool like ambrosial nectar in the cavernous hollows of his collarbones. your tears of seventh heaven euphoria trickling onto his skin forming constellations- like the paint speckles on the forlonged artists canvas of his naked soul.

you are honey sunlight oozing from the basin of the candy floss sky, lacing with the shedding petals that continue to powder in their divine scent and morality. his fine pink sheets soft and silky as the rose petals of Heliogabalus, he’d sigh in heavenly pleasure to be buried alive in petals if she was drunk of the love he has for her.

he sees her playing, singing, dancing and bringing her virtuous spring song deep within the glossy shine of her honey hive eyes. love seeping in the melancholy streams leaking through the old creeky floorboards of his home and straight into the chambers of his heart.

so promising yet so grandeur as he feels his chest warm with her very touch, the ivory bow encased in the virtuous flowers of her emblem garden in his hands- he’d think that he was Cupid but oh how he’s been struck by his own arrow in great surprise. straight into the once extravagant chamber of his heart.

the spiraling golden arrow destined to pierce and rip through the tender muscle of breast to the beating vessel that writes a tragic tale of eternal ravishment in the movements of lyrical beats. muttering with languor-glazed lips, he’d keep her love like a an old locket against his chest for it’s what reminds him of home whenever he feels the cold element on his skin.

there are pieces of you scattered in the wonderous arteries of his heart.

nestled in the folds of the beating muscle, take heed.

for that is his home.

y/n is his perennial feelings left unsaid, exquisite pain yet ethereal serenity. his soft bed of roses and his deadly golden arrow, all meant to give his heart hope.

that he was- however it seems the bed of roses and all the lovely elements it holds have come to a staggering pause.

now as the sun hits the past super soldiers eyelids that dream of flower petals and the heavenly vision of you disappear. they flutter open to meet the single stream of sunlight that has slipped past the slit of the sheer bedroom curtains. brightening up the somewhat clustered space of the room with its single golden string.

Bucky sighs in defeat, this is the fifth dream he’s had of you in a month and he was barely pushing past the second week of May. before he didn’t mind the dreams, they calmed his mind while he layed in slumber during the thunderstorms of April but now they were resilient. it wasn’t no regular thing to dream about the women across the boulevard in the haven of flower fields and maple trees.

Bucky knew this but he couldn’t help but not treat these dreams sweetly. they were the definition of sweet torture, you never hurt him in those dreams as he did to himself but it was a pain to know that you probably don’t think of him the same way. for goodness sake ever since he and Alpine moved the only interactions he had with the maiden were just acknowledgments as they passed each other on their daily errands.

he shouldn't be this infatuated with someone who he's only met.

the soft hum of a purr finally awakens Bucky, his cats paw brushing against the half covered skin of his fleshed bicep. it takes a pat or two to make Bucky open his eyes to find Alpines blue hues staring back at his and he gives his furry friend a crooked smile. a chorus of meows welcoming him to another sunny morning in the peaceful and harmonious countryside.

“morning pal, ya slept well?” Bucky smiles as he lazily lifts his hand to scratch the right spot behind Alpines ear.

stretching out of bed till his feet touch the cool wood flooring, following the simple path from the bedroom to the kitchen he pours Alpine his dish of cream and gets started on his own breakfast. whisking hen eggs his neighbors from afar gifted him the day before and toasting the freshly baked loaves of bread he bought specially from the market yesterday.

Bucky normally didn’t take any gifts from anyone, he wasn’t that type of person to feel comfortable with those sort of things but as the days gone by the cheerfulness of the communities welcoming energy towards him has soften his doubt.

eating his simple breakfast paired with coffee, Bucky bites into his buttery egg toast whilst quickly scribbling down his to-do list for the day. of course there isn’t any tasks that the hundred and ten year old man has to get done but there were things that Bucky did look forward to ever since he settled in a month ago. the country was a lovely peacefulness he had forgotten about ever since he was a boy.

traveling to his grandparents farm away from the city for memorable childhood summers in the sun and fields. turning his head to meet the white linen sheets that draped over the kitchen panels, Bucky can see the herd of brown and black spotted cows from the distance. tapping the pencil against the shiny polish of the kitchen table he bites his lip on what else to add on.

his head lifts up to see through the other window that casts its lovely light against his paper. blue eyes meeting the toffee cobblestone path that led to her cottage, hidden amongst the shrubbery of acorn trees and flower budded bushes. hearing from lots of locals in the cobblestone village near the sparkling sea that she owns a little orchard of peach and cherry trees, a few strawberry patches amongst the vegetation.

it made sense why he sometimes finds a large wooden basket of those ruby fruits at his doorstep from time to time. a card inviting him over for some tea that he would agree to yet he would always call you the next day a stuttering mess canceling it over some important errands. nonetheless it made Bucky's heart swell how understanding you were, sweet just like the ripe fruits you pluck for him on Sundays.

Bucky would make copplers and sometimes pies out of them and if he wasn't so scared of the possibility of being too attracted to you he'd head over to your place so he and him would eat them in your gazebo. but of course he can't do everything his heart implores him to do. was it bad to want to get to know you and imagine what it would be like to befriend you?

maybe do lots more than just befriend you...

sometimes he would find a glimpse of your form in the distance as he headed for the lake neat the lavender fields up north to fish something for dinner. humming while you cared for your flowers, singing to them as you danced along the vintage radio. Bucky could see himself singing and dancing alongside you. caring for your precious tulips, primroses and other beautiful flowers that you sold.

those pretty flowers sweet and divine just as her lips and voice when the two first met, when he arrived in the too expensive car that stood out amongst the scenery. arms occupied with bouquets upon bouquets of trimmed flowers that practically shielded her face, his body ran straight into yours when he got out of his car. flower petals falling with the impact and him apologizing one thing led to another and he helped her with her bouquets all while being stricken when he got a clear look at her.

a clear look at you.

lovely in your sundress that flowed beautifully against your bodies soft planes, there was something about the sparkle in your eyes that made him start to stutter. something about you that made his heart bloom in a recherché flower he still can’t understand because he can still hear the velvety tone of your voice speaking your own name when giving each other’s your introduction.

from there on out a glowing ember of clustered stars burned in the pit of his belly when you spoke his name and he spoke yours. it was soft and innocent as the flowers in your arms but the introduction was cut off far too short for Bucky's liking but he promised you a coffee when he was completely settled in. having to do something so he could see you again cause oh how he wishes to hear you speak his name again and again and again till the flowers sprout, bloom and decay with each coming season.

maybe he should pay you a visit and bring up that coffee...

the music from the radio filling the bright cottage kitchen sweetly alongside the birds singing their song outside. Alpine takes his seat across from him, yawning over the new day that brings nothing but lazy laps and baked fish treats. forking a few honey drizzled raspberries in his mouth, Bucky walks to the front door and just in time the daily paper plops down on his feet from the passing paper boy whipping through the grassy roads on the shiny steel of a ringing bicycle.

bending down to retrieve the newspaper, he passes through the sidewalk of petunias and violets till he reaches his mailbox. the wood creaky and the metal rusty but the daisies that sprinted around the opening was a pretty site to see before Bucky grimaced at people from the outside world wanting to invade his privacy. grabbing the letters before smelling the sweet daisies, Bucky looks through the letters one by one. ripping some that had no use for to be used as fire food for his fireplace, grunting that even though he’s away from the tabloids and cameras there are still people eager enough to want something from him.

a soft voice from the distance pulls him out of his annoyance, it makes his eyes lift from his dreaded mail to the women a mile away singing her song as she reaches her mailbox. Bucky can’t help but look at her from afar; and maybe Alpine knows this to as he watch his lovesick owner admire the maiden from the kitchen windowsill.

with some obscene fortune he notices you checking your mailbox as well. heart pacing in his chest, he wishes he didn’t go outside before showering and at least brushing his hair for your waving to him from the distance.

“hello hello Bucky!” your sweet voice exclaims and it just adds onto the heaven that is the morning it makes his cheek hurt from how much he’s smiling.

“hello hello to you y/n. how is the shop coming along?” Bucky shouts and his heart sinks when you wave him over to you.

despite his mind telling him to not pursue closer his heart makes him walk his way to you standing next to your Valentine shaped mailbox. his worries slipping away when there's a underlying comfort in your posture and aura, alluring like the bees are to the flowers. welcoming and warm and he can't help but feel that way every time he's near you.

speaking of you, its reassuring to also know he wasn't the only one to wear pajama's out since your still in your blue silk nightgown. matching silk slippers adorning your feet, you sip from your tea cup as you read what he believes to be a Cosmopolitan.

“it’s coming along great, thank you! a bit slow the first week but that’s how any business starts but I just received my tenth loyal customer and i’m more than certain i’ll be selling lots of flowers today.” you spoke as you smiled to yourself then up at him.

checking your mail, Bucky’s surprised that you have quite a handful of letters and boxes. all written in lovely cursive and packaged nicely, almost like love letters and gifts. it makes Bucky’s heat sink, knowing that he might not be the only one who’s fallen head over heels for you. by all means you probably have the whole village under a spell with just the way you smile alone but he wants to see that smile the most.

he wants to be the reason for that smile.

“that’s sounds wonderful y/n, maybe I could stop by and pick a pretty bouquet or two," you only smile wider upon those words and much to his excitement you even brush your hand against his.

"oh really? have a special someone in your life who needs some loving?" you perk as you open an envelop but the question makes Bucky's throat dry on how he should answer.

you seem like the type of maiden who loves an honest man- yes, he should be honest.

"well... there is this one special lady." Bucky lingers and that makes you snap your attention away from the letters in your hands. voice dying in your throat at those words and heart beat hitting pause.

"I always thought Alpine was gonna be the only one to get to my soft spot- we sleep in the same bed together," he stops to laugh a bit, rubbing the back of neck with his metal arm and you laugh along with him.

"how is Alpine? i'm noticing he's getting into a routine with sleeping in my chamomile beds in the afternoon," you smile and bring your tiny tea cup to your lips. "would you care for a cup Bucky? this just so happens to be chamomile,"

"Alpine is doing good and thank you for bringing that up I was beginning to wonder where that rascal has been leaving for. will have an important talk to him once I get home and- I was going to ask you something," Bucky speaks while admiring how your thick lashes curtain your honey hive hues as you sip the steaming golden liquid.

no one should look that beautiful just drinking tea yet here he is, breathless on the simple action. if he truly wanted a cup he'd wish to drink from your tiny cup, to press his lips upon the porcelain rim where yours once brushed against. drink the sweet sunshine to experience the closest thing to your honey kiss...

"don't worry it's alright! I love looking over at him when I have tea at the back patio, he's quite a lovely guest. very well mannered, and yes Bucky is there anything I can help you with?" you cannot deny that your heart is practically skipping beats in your chest, fast and lively like the flutter of a butterfly wing.

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, for someone who has done the simple thing of asking someone out for couple hundreds of times a hundred years ago from now it’s a disappointment that he’s lost his touch. however you don’t seem to notice or care but that doesn't mean he should give up. not when you're right here glowing in your morning dew radiance, anticipating the next words to slip past those lips.

it's now or never.

"h-how do you feel about that coffee I promised? today? I have a few errands to run in town and I was wondering if you would accompany me- on my errands... if that doesn't bother you,” Bucky rambles to a stop and he's thankful you're still smiling that closed lip grin against the porcelain of the cup.

"yes Bucky I would love that! there's a coffee cart near the shop I work at but what about your lady? she wouldn't mind us going out for coffee, would she?" you speak as you gather your letters in your arms. glancing up at Bucky to receive some conformation and Bucky bites his lips.

"I don't think she'll mind. in fact... I think she would love me to go out once in a while. I have a habit of only going out when necessary, coffee with you wouldn't hurt,"

"that's perfect, i'll see you at twelve then Bucky. you can help me open shop to," you smiled and Bucky returned an even warmer one back.

filling your heart with a rush of liason, like a tea cup filling with tea. something meant to be full and warm, embraced with someone's touch and lips as they drank each fluttering honey glazed sensation they have for one other.

something that seems to be happening right now before they break their strong eye contact, wiry- crooked smiles still embellishing their sun-freckled faces.

you wish you could kisses each one off his clean shaven cheeks right now, slightly rosy but oh how it would feel like peach skin against your lips.

Bucky wishes to kiss yours, the shine of your lips the form of heart shaped clouds and he just can't seem to get his head out of the amorous blue you cast him into.

"i'll be seeing you in an hour Bucky," you draw before walking away with a cheeky wink, your eyes still locking with his before you get to the rosy sunflower porch.

"and i'll be waiting for you doll,"

♡♡♡ thank you for reading part one! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this join my taglist to be notified of my future works! ♡♡♡

𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || @cloudystevie ღ @steebsbabygirl ღ @honeychicana ღ @afriendlyblackhottie ღ @chrissquares ღ @denisemarieangelina ღ @hevans-angel ღ @drewsbuzz ღ @assoftheamericana ღ @gracechristo ღ @little-baby-vixen ღ @sohoseb ღ @quxxnxfhxll ღ @peachesofcolour ღ @abschaffer1 ღ @sea040561 ღ @afriicanhoe ღ ღ ღ

𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || @burninmatches ღ @lovesguiltypleasuress ღღღ

#brattycherubwrites #♡ bucky barnes ♡#bucky barnes × black!reader #bucky barnes × woc!reader #bucky barnes × reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 3 years

Text

The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene I | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. okay! so first chapter of a new series im starting! its a series rewrite of the genshin impact plot. i had always wanted to do one of these, and with my comic obsession, if you read marvel/dc comics youll find some crossovers hints. hope yall enjoy as i finally start to write and get on some type of schedule. its also one in the morning so imma head to bed :)

Word Count. 1,633 words

Page Count. 4.8 pages

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ Act I, Scene I ] [ next scene ]

Prologue Act I: Scene I | Monstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

So, what you're trying to say is that you fell here? From another world?

But, when you wanted to leave and go back to your world... Your path was blocked by some unknown God?

You could only nod at Paimons commentary, watching as she floated next to you, a small hand to her chin as she looked deep in thought. Looking forward to the vast openness of the ocean in front of you, memories flashing before your own eyes as the pain settled in your heart, the wind slowly picking up before the tears filled your eyes. It hurt to think back at what happened, to how you lost them, the two people to found you after being lost for so long.

That carmine red outlining the dark abyss shaped like a star would haunt you as a woman walked out, snowy white hair and the bandages around her legs flowing around her as her voice seemed to break through your skull, demanding your attention while the twins next to you could only look up in confusion. The anger in those golden eyes was enough to make you take a step back, you've never met her- Hell, you've never seen or heard of anyone like her, so why did she come at you with such ferocity? Even her mere presence contrasted with the ivory, baby blues, and gold of your surroundings, the heavenly area around you tainted with this... Unknown God.

"Outlanders, your journey ends here." She demanded, the portals behind her sharpening with the wave of her hand. Lumine took a step forward, her shock evident in the small gasp she let out before speaking, determination and confusion spilled across her features.

"Who are you?"

"The sustainer of heavenly principles." She responds quickly, bringing a hand up to her line of vision with a small red and black cube in her hand, twirling it causing the ground beneath you to tremble, Aether looking between you and his sister. Shaking your head, you bent your knees ready to jump, the engines in your heavy boots started up, as your mask appeared on your face once again with only a light touch to the earpiece.

"The arrogation of mankind ends now." The ground lit up around you, red and irritated with magic you haven't seen before, your boots shooting you into the air as Aether and Lumine jumped- following your lead as they pulled their golden swords and allowed their wings to manifest, holding themselves in the air.

It was barely a second, before you moved forward with the twins by your side, your hands moving to the Quads in their holsters and taking them out for another fight. You only thanked whatever Gods in your own world were listening, and that damn mentor of yours, before your mind went back to the battle at hand- requiring you to fly around and dodge the large amounts of glistening red and gold cubes that came in your way, blocking you from the target of the Unknown God.

Before you knew it, the end of this battle came quickly, an explosion from the mere speed of you, Lumine, and Aether stopping right before the Unknown God to attack.

And that second was all she needed to do what was needed.

Her gaze fell upon you, making you shiver in fear, before you flew back and blasted a beam of energy at her from your Quad, only for it to be absorbed by a cluster of cubes. Your voice came out robotic, echoed with the technology that covered your face, you eyes moving to see the cluster of cubes enveloping the twins that were once beside you.

"Aether! Lumine!" They only looked at you in horror, fading once the cubes covered them whole, returning to the Unknown God in a hollowed and golden version of her twisted and unique weapon. She watched the rotating cube with wide, uncaring eyes, giving you enough time to circle around her and attack once more- throwing the handheld mines from your belt onto her form, the beeping accelerating once it met her skin, and an explosion following quickly.

By the time the smoke cleared, and before your mask could scan and gain some sense of recognition, the cubes that protected the Unknown God attached themselves to your outstretched hand, closing in on you while maintaining the explosion you caused. Eventually, it all settled into one cube that contained your hand, before you followed the same fate as the twins.

"Wait! Don't go! Give them back!" You managed to scream, desperation in your voice, as you watched another family be taken from you once again, your vision fading into darkness and your heart breaking once again.

And just like that, the god took away my friends.

Some kind of seal was put on my being, and the power I had was gone.

And while I had the freedom to travel the universe, worlds, and entirely new realms.

I was now trapped.

"How many years ago was it? I don't know, Paimon. But, I've gotta. I have to." You answered Paimons question, still looking out to the sea in front of you, mask now hidden into the earpiece that decorated your left lobe. The leather of your jacket warmed you from the cool breeze of the sea, the bodysuit underneath regulated your body temperature in any environment, but you specifically used it when in space when you held the title of Guardian. But you couldn't afford to think about that now.

Not when there's a chance of finding Aether and Lumine.

"After I woke up, I was alone- until I met you two months ago." You finished, looking over to your floating friend, who only turned as she spoke.

"Yeah. Paimon really owes you for that. Otherwise Paimon likely would have drowned... So, Paimon will do her best to be a great guide!" She smiles, hands on her hips while looking up to you, seeing as she always chose to float around chest-level when around you. You sighed, a weak chuckle escaped your lips before you sat up from the sand, brushing off the back of your cargo pants and looking towards your guide for this new world- patting her head and making sure to be careful of the crown that hovered above her.

You had only hoped Paimon would do most of the talking for you anyways, due to Tevyat’s language being foreign even to your ears and tongue, a feat for a Guardian of your reputation. A decent understanding of the oral part of the language under your belt, you found reading to be easier, since it did look similar to some scripts back in your own world. Your thoughts were cut off as Paimon spoke up, calling for you to follow her as she sped ahead of you, following the path from out of the beach to the grassy area ahead of you.

"Awe, the path ends here. I guess we'll just have to climb, huh?" You rolled your eyes, shaking your head while you started to heave yourself up the large rock, Paimon taking notice of this.

"You mean I have to climb the rock, P, you just have to float." You laughed, reaching the top with a grunt before she whined about floating taking as much energy as walking or climbing. It wasn't bad, you've climbed a lot worse in even more horrid situations, but damn did that take a good breath from you. You'd have to work on rebuilding some of your stamina while traveling here, and possibly need to find some supplies to settle somewhere for a bit, maybe even collect whatever currency they had here.

"Well, let's take the route we planned! We're off to... a Statue of The Seven!" She smiles with glee, before a questionable face appears as you both move forward, her head turning towards you as you attempt to take in much of the scenery and areas you could. Your heavy boots only crushed the poor underbrush and grass that came into contact with it, your belt that was filled with gadgets and such clinking with the sway of your hips- hitting the holsters.

This world is beautiful...

"Which of The Seven are you looking for exactly?" She asked, making you shrug your shoulders at her, hands up as you walked towards a nearby tree- picking up the strange orange fruits and packing them away before moving forward. They looked like some weird crossbreed of orange and pear, but, you hoped it would taste as good as it looked.

"To be honest? Any of them. They should have some idea of what happened, but even then, The Seven are gods in this world- and from what I remember of gods... they aren't too sane to say the least." You said, reaching a small cliff side that overlooked a lake with a statue near the edge of the small island in the center of it.

"That's a Statue of The Seven!" She pointed in its direction as you gave her your full attention, your finger going to touch the back of your ear to signal that, mindful of the metal to not trigger the activation of your mask.

"There are a few of these statues scattered across the land to show The Seven's protections over the world. Among the seven gods, this god controls the wind. Paimon's not sure whether the god your looking for is the Anemo God, but... Paimon'll take you to the Anemo God's place first, and there's a reason why~" She muses, giving you a small wink before turning around, allowing you to follow her down the path to the first Statue of The Seven.

To the first step towards finding Aether and Lumine.

Your journey has started.

#genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #gi x reader #gi imagine #x reader #reader insert #queen.writing #The Missing Guardian: Genshin Impact

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gloomybabygirl · 4 years

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{in my head pt.2} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist

last part * next part

a/n: hi everyone! I can’t thank you enough for all the love on the first part of the series!! I was actually super nervous to post it and had my friends beta read it an unhealthy amount of times, so the feedback I’ve gotten has been wonderful :) p.s. the series tag list is open, send an ask or message if you want to be tagged for the rest!

warnings: alcohol consumption, soulmate trope, poe not clearing his throat, cliffhanger, I haven’t proofread this yet

timeline: I never established this so here we go! this is set between force awakens and last Jedi! so we’re still on D’Qar ladies, gents, and nb friends. however Miss Rey has not yet traveled to see Uncle Luke

word count: 4k oops

songs used: mr. loverman - Ricky Montgomery & the chain - Fleetwood Mac (kinda? I just listened there's no singing in this part lol)

summary: you and Poe spend some time bonding, you go on your first mission

You loved being apart of the Resistance. Waking up on D’Qar every morning was a blessing in your eyes. You had a purpose here. You’d never stayed on one planet for so long. Being on the run was your norm for the majority of your life. It was too dangerous for you to stay on one planet for too long (or stay in one region for that matter). The humid Jungle was the closest thing you’d had to a permanent home since you were a child.

That is, D’Qar was the closet thing to a physical home you’d had in years. There was one person that had no trouble making you feel at home. You could be stuck in carbonite on a bounty hunters ship and hearing your soulmate’s voice wold make you feel safe. His sweet song felt like coming home to the warm embrace of a lover.

But you hadn’t heard it in weeks. And it was starting to worry you. There had always been that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d found someone else. But now that voice was trying to convince you of something much worse. You don’t know what you’d do if you’d spent all this time waiting for your person only to find out that something awful had happened to him.

You’d rather find out he already belonged to someone else.

You did your best to push the dark thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of your mind. You couldn’t let yourself linger on the idea of him being dead or it would drive you insane.

There were three people that did a magnificent job of keeping your mind off of all the negative thoughts. On days when it felt like the weight of the war was resting solely on your shoulders, your friends were the ones who could help you bear it. They were always there for a joke or a long talk, if that's what you needed. Of course you were there for them as well. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to have people in your life that could rely on you.

Days like today were your favorite. The weather was finally starting to cool down on the swampy planet, making the outside air somewhat tolerable. Everyone you loved was on base, safe and accounted for after a successful mission. Every time one of them left the base you felt as though you were holding your breath until they came back. But now, in Poe's small quarters with Rey and Finn, you felt the air return to your grateful lungs. Poe had devised a plan to hit up Maz’s on the way back from the mission and snagged a few bottles of jet juice, which you and the rest of the gang were all happily draining in his quarters. The alcohol was just beginning to burn in your stomach and your head was the slightest bit fuzzy. You took your time soaking in the scene of your found family spread out on the cold permacrete of Poe’s room.

Finn’s boisterous laugh rang out as his best friend finished telling every one about his adventure and a half to get the jet juice. Finn was especially fond of the tangy, red alcohol and was on drink number four down the hatch.

“Only you, Dameron,” Rey laughed to herself, gently taking the half full bottle out of Finn’s hands. His face of protest caused another round of laughter to erupt around the small room. He looked like a child that was denied a sweet by their parent.

Finn fell back against the permacrete, his head making an awful hollow sound as it hit the ground. He didn't seem to feel it and decided the floor was his new best friend for the night. Rey got up from her position against the wall and began to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room.

“Looks like the jet juice served it’s purpose,” you commented, nudging Poe in the side with your elbow. Finn was now curling into the fetal position, trying to use a rug as a blanket.

You had your legs resting over Poe’s strong thighs. He patted the side of your leg where his hand had been resting, carefully moving your legs off of him. “I better help him back to his room. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t end up running naked through the tarmac trying to fly an X-Wing,” Poe said.

“I’d should head back to my quarters too,” you stood up to put your boots on, but Poe stopped you.

“Actually, do you think you could wait here till I get back? I have something I want to give you,” Poe winked at you, helping Rey tug their friend to his feet.

You couldn't help the way your heart sped up at his words. And you definitely didn't miss the eyebrow raise Rey shot you from the door.

“Yeah, I’ll just hang with BB-8 till you get back.”

A low voice bellowed out from the door, “OOOOH HE GOT YOU A PRESENT! How romantic,” Finn was apparently trying to wake up the entire base with the way his voice was booming off the walls. You were sure he hadn't meant for that to come out so loud. Or to come out at all.

Everyone went silent. You and Poe pointedly looked away from each other. His cheeks flamed red. You pretended to be preoccupied with the frayed laces on your Resistance issued boots.

Rey looked between the two of you and then broke the awkward silence with: “Aaanyway, let’s get you to bed Peanut!” She sounded too cheerful, trying to reduce the awkward energy that hung in the room. Being force sensitive you could only imagine how she was perceiving the situation. She and Poe hauled their inebriated friend out into the hall, desperately trying to shush him as he was now singing. You hoped his poor soulmate wasn't trying to sleep.

Finn clapped Poe on the back hard when they finally got into the drunk man’s room. Rey had helped Poe get Finn to his quarters but had dipped when Finn requested to be helped into his pajamas. They were close, but not ‘undressing one another’ close. Poe was itching to get back to his room and see you again, but he helped his buddy none the less.

Finn was finally laying in bed when Poe turned to leave.

“Are you okay?”

Poe hesitated, then turned on his heel. “Yeah?” he furrowed his brow at the unexpected question, “Why?”

“You haven’t been singing.” Finn was suddenly serious.

Poe’s face softened when he realized what Finn was so concerned about.

And he was right, Poe hadn’t been singing. It wasn't hard to miss, everyone on base noticed. The man who used to use every spare moment to sing to his soulmate had gone quiet. People actually missed hearing his voice all the time. Echoing through the halls of the base or out on the tarmac mixing with the whine of X-Wings taking off and landing. Finn wasn’t the only person worried about Black Leader. Leia had even mentioned something to her surrogate son a few days back. She enjoyed his singing more than anyone. She said it was a sparkle of hope during a dark time.

But the truth was, Poe didn't feel like singing. Guilt was the main thing keeping him from inflicting his voice on people whenever he could. How could he sing to his soulmate when he was fighting off feelings for someone else? He was doing everything in his power to stop you from being at the forefront of his mind all the time, but it was hard when your smile was his favorite thing to occupy his mind with.

“I miss my lover, man.”

He did. He missed his soulmate, whoever they were. He missed randomly hearing their soft voice humming through his mind. He missed the way he felt when he would sing to them. It was the closest thing he had to actually being with them, talking to them. He missed that he used to long for them. Lately that unconditional, blind love was being clouded by someone else. You.

“Tell me more stories about your Dad.” You were sitting cross-legged on the floor across from where BB-8 was nestled in his charging station. He had been beeping and booping at you for the last half and hour as you waited for his father to return.

The droid animatedly jumped into another anecdote about a recent mission he had gone on with his favorite person. He rattled around in his charging station, whirling his head around and beeping rapidly at you.

“He did what?!” you asked the little orange droid as the blast doors flew open, revealing the man in question. You turned to face Poe, mouth still agape at the droids admission to you.

“Who did what?” Poe asked confused, walking into the room. The droid then decided he was done charging and rolled over to Poe for scritches. Poe kneeled down and gave his favorite little guy some love, looking at you for an answer. He laughed at the way you had your arms crossed and were giving him the same look Leia gave him when she found out he’d gotten into a dog fight.

BB-8 beeped adamantly at him.

“Maker, Beebs, you told her about that?” He glanced nervously at you, only to find you were now trying to suppress a laugh. He was soothed by that damned smile that was burned into his mind.

“Unfortunately for you, I can understand BB’s binary perfectly. Now I know why you have to work on your ship so often,” you teased. “You’re not exactly tender with her.” You were trying to keep up your facade of being angry with him for being reckless. You were failing, your smirk giving you away.

Why did the fact that you understood BB-8 give him heart palpitations? His droid was absolutely going to get him into trouble with you one day. Apparently he can’t be expected to keep secrets.

Poe ignored your jab and walked over to sit behind you.

“Close your eyes,” he demanded softly.

“No, I don’t trust you. What kind of weird creature are you about to put on me?” you asked, twisting your torso to see him.

He cocked his head at you, “Would you just have a little faith in me? I have something special for you.” He laughed. You narrowed your eyes at him but closed you eyes and turned around anyway, your smile growing bigger every second.

“Besides, if I was going to put a creature on you, I’d do it on front of more people,” he taunted.

You laughed humorlessly at him, “Always the attention whore.” You heard him playfully shush you.

Poe took a deep breath, silently grateful that you couldn't see the way his hands were trembling. He reached up and removed the silver chain from around his neck for the first time in years. He then carefully slipped it over your head and watched from over your shoulder as his mothers ring came to rest at your sternum.

Deep breath. “Open.”

You immediately turned toward him, a look of shock on your face.

“Poe what is this?” you asked, alarmed by the ring resting delicately on your collar bone.

Poe's warm eyes held so much softness in them, you thought you would bust into tears right then. You turned to face him fully, confused as to why he just put this piece of jewelry around your neck.

“A good luck charm,” he whispered, admiring the way it looked on you.

“Is this the chain you wear every day?”

He nodded, still giving you that look that made you feel like the only person in the universe.

“Then what's this ring?” The bottom of the silver chain was always dipped below his collar, if the ring had always been there, you’d never seen it.

“It was my mother’s wedding ring. I wear it every day, take it on every mission, even sleep with it on. One day I’ll give it to my soulmate when I ask them to marry me, but for now it serves as a good luck charm for me,” He explained with a sad edge to his voice.

You had become close with Poe Dameron in the last few months. While a large portion of that time was spent with Finn and Rey, you also had spent a few late nights just the two of you. He had a knack for making you laugh and you would often stay in his quarters long after the others had retired. Deeper conversations were far and few between, the two of you preferring to spend your time together in a fit of hysterics. It was strange to see this man so serious. There was no twinkle of mischief in his eyes tonight.

You suddenly felt suffocated by him. His face was a mere few inches away from yours and you could feel his cool breath fanning across your face. His large hands rested on your knees, giving you a light squeeze and snapping you out of your haze.

“Poe are you sure you want to give this to me? I can't imagine how important it must be to you.” You reached up and stroked the smooth metal.

“It’s the most important thing in the word to me. But I want you to have it for your first mission. Since I’m not going with you to help you when you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, I want you to have a piece of me there with you. And what better to give you than my good luck charm?”

You felt your tears spill over, streaking hot and wet down your face at the sincerity in his voice. You couldn't believe he wanted you to have this piece of him with you. He was becoming one of the most important people in your life, and him sharing something so special with you meant the world.

You were going down a slippery slope. If you weren't careful, you could fall in love with this man so easily.

“Poe, thank you. I don't know what to say,” you reached forward, pulling him into a tight hug. You nuzzled into his neck, letting the scent of leather and engine oil envelop you. He reached one arm securely around your waist and brought the other up to gently cup the back of your head. He took a deep breath in without meaning to, overwhelming his senses with you. He didn't want to pull away and had to hide his disappointment when you did. You kept your hands on his shoulders, squeezing slightly.

“I promise I’ll bring it back safely so you can give it to your soulmate one day.”

The next few days were a whirl wind of meetings, briefings, more meetings, caf breaks, and did you mention meetings? You spent more time in the command room with your team than you did anywhere else. You forgot life existed outside the confines of the dirt walls.

But you were ecstatic that Leia trusted you with such an important mission so soon after joining the Resistance. Plus you couldn’t be more grateful for the people that were joining you for this mission.

Finn was excellent for morale and a very smart man when he needed to be, unless of course he had jet juice in his system. Miss. Force-User Rey was always a good person to have on a mission. You brought a sense of craftiness to the crew, thanks to your smuggler skills. And Chewbacca was the only one (besides Poe) that Leia trusted to pilot the Falcon. Plus, he had a soft spot for smugglers, making you a new favorite of his.

The one person you wished you could add to this team was Poe. His pilot skills would have been a great help to Chewie, he was talented with a blaster, and he was easy on the eyes. But he had a more important solo mission with BB-8 that Leia needed him on. He didn't make himself completely scarce though. He often came in and out of the Command Center, having his own mission to plan with Admiral Akbar. He made a point of bringing you caf every time too, he knew exactly how you liked it.

You were terrified for your first mission as it was, but not having Poe there made everything ten times more dangerous in your eyes.

The ring he had let you borrow was becoming a source of comfort. Whenever you got anxious about the mission you found yourself fiddling with it. The smooth metal was slightly worn in one spot on the band and you ran your fingers over it repeatedly to calm yourself. Something you caught yourself doing unconsciously on a number of occasions.

The plan was simple. The Resistance had gotten word of an ex First Order official on the planet Ryloth, less than a parsec away from Tatooine. You and the rest of the crew were to go there and see what information the old Commander could offer you. Simple. But that didn’t stop you from needing to cover all your bases. Every single thing that could have possibly gone wrong had an escape plan to coincide. You were as prepared as you could be.

Your favorite part of the plan was your mode of transportation. As an ex-smuggler, you’d admired the Millennium Falcon and it's pilot for years. You’d heard every story surrounding Han Solo and his old piece of junk. Seeing it in person, let alone flying on it was something you’d never thought would be possible. But here you were, boarding the infamous ship.

Finn and Rey brushed passed you, Rey laughing at the look of awe on your face as you were frozen in the doorway, the ramp hitting you on the ass as it closed.

You took your time walking around the hull of the Falcon. Taking a moment just to think about the adventures she’d been on, the places she’d seen. You laughed fondly to yourself as you remembered your favorite story. You reached out and placed a hand tentatively on the wall of the old ship. “So this is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?” you called out to your friends.

“Twelve,” Finn and Rey chorused from the cockpit, mixed with the indignant cry of your favorite Wookie.

“Okay, twelve! Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and joined your friends in the cockpit.

Poe was exhilarated every time he was in the air. There was nothing in the world that gave him the same feeling. This man was more comfortable in a cockpit than he was on his own two feet. If it were up to him, he’d never come down.

But there was someone pulling him back to solid ground, like a magnet. Someone he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how badly he wanted to exile them from his mind. He couldn't ignore your gravitational pull. He hadn't seen you in several days, you having returned from your mission two days prior. His mission was a success and he couldn't wait to tell you all about it. Leaving out the dangerous details that BB-8 was sure to fill you in on later.

He was nervous to hear about how your mission went. It was a simple enough task, but he couldn't help but worry about you. He hoped his good luck charm was as comforting to you as it had been to him these last few years. He felt naked without it, this having been the first mission he hadn't taken it on. He found himself reaching up to stroke his finger across the band of the ring he had worn in from playing with it when he got nervous, but then remembering he'd given it to you. The idea that you were wearing a piece of him around the base made his heart leap in his chest.

He was practically giddy when he leaped down from his X-Wing, already rushing to find you.

Cool it Dameron, you have a soulmate waiting for you.

Plus, he had to see the General before anything. Was he so clouded by his need to see you that he forgot he was fighting a war?

A twinge of guilt hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to take a deep breath and remind himself of the person looking for him somewhere in the universe. He let his feet take him down the familiar dirt path to the Command Center. The soft, damp earth caused his flight boots to sink slightly with each step.

He flooded his mind with images of what his future could be like with the person the galaxy had chosen for him. A small home on Yavin IV. Children he could teach how to fly the same way his mother taught him. A safe, quiet life with no threat of the First Order. No threats at all. He stored these images in the back of his mind for when he needed a glimmer of hope during the war. But lately he was using these daydreams as distractions from you.

He stepped into he large room where Leia was addressing General Akbar and a few other pilots that had also just returned from a mission.

When she caught sight of Poe her forehead created in confusion and she abruptly dismissed the debrief she was in the middle of with a wave of her hand. As they shuffled out of the room, several of them shot Poe sympathetic looks.

What the hell was going on?

“Commander Dameron, what are you doing here?” The General asked, walking over to him.

He hesitated, unsure as to why she was asking a question with an obvious answer, “I just landed from my mission, General. I’m here to debrief.”

Leia dropped the General persona and gently caressed the pilots face, running her thumb over the stubble she resented.

She had always been like a second mother to Poe, and he like a second son to her. Their relationship was something special and unique. Something she thanked the Force every day for. However, her unexpected shift from serious Resistance leader to caring mother made Poe nervous.

“I thought Finn or Rey would have been waiting on the tarmac to tell you.”

Now he was starting to panic. What was he missing? What happened?

“Come with me,” Leia softly implored, grabbing his calloused hand and yanking him out of the room. She tried to flood him with calm though the force connection she made with him, but his anxiety was too overbearing.

She continued explaining as she pulled him through the base, “The mission went south. There was no ex Order Commander on Ryloth. It was a set up. When they landed, there was a fleet of ‘Troopers waiting for them, ready to capture them and bring them back to the Finalizer for my son to interrogate.” She tried to keep her voice even for Poe's sake.

Poe was really panicking now, starting to pick up his speed. He squeezed Leia’s hand, begging her to continue.

“They got out relatively unscathed. Chewie stayed on the Falcon so they were able to get away quickly. But Poe,” she stopped in her tracks, jerking Poe back to a halt. She looked him in the eyes, worried for what his reaction to her news would be.

“Poe, the new recruit was badly hurt. They were shot in the side with a blaster and lost a lot of blood. They’ve been in the medbey unconscious for two days, but they’ll be okay,” she finished.

Poe wordlessly turned and broke out into a run towards the medbay. Leia watched him go, knowing he needed to see you more than anything in that moment. She had felt a connection between you and Poe. She knew he wanted to wait for his soulmate, but she also knew that finding them was not likely. Part of her wished he would give in and let himself fall in love with you. Soulmate or not, she wanted him to be happy.

#poe x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fic #poe dameron one shot #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #in my head

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

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B2:S - Chapter 3

Much of this series will be about the differences and additions in the novel version, and how they contribute to my understanding of story canon. But there will be character appreciation, the odd theory and headcanon, and suchlike as well.

Here be Lujanne, Callum, Rayla, Ezran, Bait, and Soren goodness!

Spoilers for Book Two: Sky below.

Lujanne having excellent fitness for all her walking around the Moon Nexus, and she's so energetic that Callum has trouble keeping up with her! She seems like those active grandmas who almost never stop moving, who have a lifelong supply of endless stamina. It makes me wonder if Lujanne will need that level of fitness for some upcoming conflict.

Callum feeling really hungry over not eating grubs and then still deciding he'd rather be hungry. It makes me wonder all over again how Lujanne got to the point where she eats grubs, considering that other Moonshadow elves we know of back in the Silvergrove don't. I still love my hc that the giant leech ate all of Lujanne's moonberry bushes and she's taking her revenge. Whatever's going on there, Callum is definitely not at that point yet.

When Lujanne asks Callum how he knows she's real, he thinks to himself that he'd put up with just about anything from someone who was going to teach him magic. That's a great parallel and foreshadowing for Viren's student/master relationship with Aaravos! And it's telling that neither student gets exactly what they hoped to get. Lujanne doesn't actively teach Callum any spells, because she believes he can't learn Moon magic at all. Aaravos does offer Viren power, but it takes him to some very dark places - literally and figuratively - and the cost is terribly high.

Callum sees a moon shape among the ruins, and Lujanne explains that the Moonhenge layout is an intricate rune that uses the structures themselves as part of its symbols and power. That's apparently a thing even with ordinary Moonshadow villages like Hollow Wood in the east, which is the coolest idea I've seen in a while: city planning as magic runes!

Yes, that's the same shape as the pendants Ethari made for himself and Runaan. Protection? Home? Feelsiness? A sense of safety and belongnig for all cycles and seasons?

Wonder what this Moonhenge rune stands for, then, and how much of this landscape is included in that rune. I bet it's more than we think!

But it makes sense now, how toppling the stone pillars would disable the spell the druids would cast to connect with the Moon Nexus lake. Breaking the infrastructure of the Moonhenge breaks the rune.

There's a physical sensation involved with the visuals that Historia Viventem brings up! When that one ghostly druid walked through Callum, he felt icy cold. Like in ghost stories. I really wonder about what exactly Historia Viventem is doing when it activates. It shows truth, "what really happened here?", so it must have some kind of time-related element, maybe tied to how the moon always repeats the same cycles or something. But it also seems to draw on the spirits of any living people involved in the flashback, because Callum could physically feel that wispy shape passing through him. So very interesting!

Orrr... is that all wrong, and there's something else at work with this spell than time? Maybe the world beyond life and death can act as an imprint of the things that have happened in the living world, and the spell that Lujanne (and later Callum) casts taps into that place, with perfect recall. I'm looking really hard at the sentence that says "dozens of translucent elf ghosts" and "phantom Moonhenge" and "lost in their own world" here.

Lujanne says more here than in the show about the world beyond life and death, being her mysterious Moonshadow-mage self. She says that "beyond" and "between" might both apply to where this other plane of existence is, and she doesn't much care which. With all the relativity swirling around this place, and not much in the way of empiricism, it's sounding like perhaps multiple conflicting ideas might actually coexist in such a place, allowing more ideas to fit there than we might normally believe is possible. Which is a fascinating bit of worldbuilding. Basically, every headcanon anyone has ever had about the Moon Nexus could all be true at the same time, for all we know.

Oh oh oh, Callum coming in soft with a secret wish! He takes one look at the Moonhenge and immediately thinks of finding a way to see his mom again! Poor boy, my heart! I'd say that could be another interesting parallel with Viren, but then, who wouldn't hold that sentiment?

Oh my, is this another breath of life into Ye Olde Ley Lines headcanon? Lujanne mentioning the Nexuses again, so soon after talking about the runic design of the entire Moonhenge, makes me wonder if the six nexuses are in fact giant runes. On Earth, the places where ley lines cross are called nexuses, and there are those who believe those points got marked with ancient structures, like Stonehenge and many many others. If Xadia were crossed with magical lines which naturally formed nexus points where they met, and if powerful magical runes were built across those entire areas, well. That would be cool beans, fams. Can I smack a map of Xadia and release a spell like Luz Noceda does? Because ngl that is my first instinct here.

Lujanne has got to be missing some grandkids to spoil, right? The way she's always whipping out cake and ice cream for Callum, and she's so grandma-ish about it. Headcanon about her being Runaan's mom aside, she is canonically lonely and she's very sweet to Allen and Ellis and I think she's missing whatever family she once had in the past. She may never get to have that family back, so she's finding a new one among the humans who live nearby, and I think that's sweet. Found family isn't just for the young.

But Ellis is straight up gonna be her fave, I bet, because she didn't turn up her nose at Lujanne's illusion food!

Ezran and Bait have a lot more to their relationship than was visible in the show, and I'm so excited by it! Ez can tell by looking at Bait's colors that he's not truly jealous of Zym, even if he's really grumpy about the dragonling taking up his favorite human's time.

And Ez thinking a lot about his dad and the things he's taught him. They're soft leadership material, and I love that so much! "Pick your battles" and the importance of encouragement. Ahh, my heart. Ezran, you're going to be such a good king.

But wait a second: both times that Bait gets extra grumpy in Zym's first training session, Ezran has just mentioned something about flying. Guys, I think Bait wishes he could fly, really badly. And that's his biggest problem with Zym, and with Ezran teaching Zym to fly, instead of Bait who doesn't have wings so. Bait is so old that his secrets have secrets, and I'm really curious how flying fits into them now!

Rayla, Dramatic Assassin: "I need to patrol for dark forces." That's what Lujanne called the source of the purple wisps that found them. I wonder if that's an official term all Moonshadows know, or if Rayla is just taking her cue from a veteran Moon mage. And I wonder how far Rayla is falling into the apparent pattern of "one mage, one assassin", since she does spend a lot of her time patrolling without being asked.

When Callum tells Lujanne that he was bad at prince stuff, and she asks if he didn't give up and got good at those things anyway, it's an opportunity for Callum to embrace subverting his parents' expectations in favor of seeking his own path, which is a primary theme of the show. But Lujanne is a couple generations older than Callum, at the very least, and I have to wonder what her upbringing was like. Is her version of success the one she took? Was she bad at magic once too, but she persisted? She is very soft and doesn't want to kill anyone.

Maybe Lujanne had dreams of doing something else with her life, but she felt she had to pursue the destiny that others handed to her, so she studied magic as hard as she could, and she did get good at it, but using it to defend Xadia from humans is not what she wanted to do with her life. Whether there's a parallel between her and Ethari on that point, there's one between Callum and Ethari, I think. How much of your life are you willing to let others direct for you?

LISTEN I WAS DYING AT THE EAR BREAD SCENE OKAY

This is my new favorite Soren and Claudia moment ever. Soren loves him his bread, okay. Even as earplugs for Claudia's sleep ocarina tune. The fact that it's "super effective" makes me think of a Pokemon defense. The fact that he learned it at camp, where he also learned about Moonshadow Madness, is hilarious. Later on, Corvus doesn't know Soren by name, but I still love the idea of Corvus being a kind of Strider-esque camp instructor, filling the ears of his young charges with all kinds of useful tactics like ear bread for magic spell songs (which actually seemed to work as intended), and warnings about the enemy elves' blood-themed tactics (which may or may not come back around in BH)

I thought they were gonna go in a kind of deep direction when Soren still wanted his ear bread back, but then he just. Eats them. Just noms them. I love this kid. Give Soren all the bread!

#book two: sky spoilers #book two: sky #b2:s #tdp spoilers #ToX spoilers #gloaming glade spoilers #lujanne #callum #rayla #ezran #tdp zym #soren #tdp claudia #tdp bait

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angelicmark · 5 years

Text

pairing: stoner!haechan x reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff?

warnings: unprotected sex, sad, weed? kinda (there’s no explicit detail but there’s implied use)

wc: 5.4k

summary: all he ever does is smoke weed, and stay around his friends. never putting you first, or considering how you feel. how much longer could you take the torture?

➣ apart of the narcissistic lovers series

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your heart was beating wildly in your chest. you were running on emotions at this point, eagerly waiting for him to just.. text. call. anything. but he doesn’t. and you’re left with the same feeling you’re always left with. disappointment, anger, frustration. did he not care anymore? did he not want you anymore? did he ever want you?

you look at your phone, the time mocking you as your vision gets blurred with tears all over again. how were you going to fix this? you couldn’t. it wasn’t your problem to fix. if he didn’t want you, what more could you do? he was selfish, thinking of himself, and only himself. but you kept waiting. waiting on the day where you thought he would just.. change. but he didn’t. he wouldn’t. he won’t.

so why did you stay?

a ping surrounds the room just as you’re starting the doze off the sleep, and you read the message in front of you.

hyuck: sorry, got caught up in smthing. here now. what’s up?

you heave out a sigh, leaving him on read that night. you were too exhausted to give a proper response. you knew it wouldn’t change anything even if you did respond. you knew he was getting high with his friends, ignoring your texts like they were some type of disease. your heart aches, chest tightening as you fall asleep that night with an anxious mind and flooded eyes.

you end up going three days of not speaking to him, reminiscing on the feeling he gave you.

day 1

“you’re my tutor?” the male asks, and you raise an eyebrow at him, “i’m donghyuck, but you can call me hyuck.”

you nod your head in understanding, “i’m y/n.” you take sight of his appearance and the slight sluggish look in his posture. you smile a bit, his hair was sticking up in random directions but you found it slightly charming. you knew about him and his antics, but you didn’t exactly care much for it. “and, yes, i’m your tutor.”

he nods, “cool.” he plops next to you, the reserved area of the library just for the two of you. he looks at you, and just now starts to realize just how pretty you were. he snorts to himself, and you look at him with a questioning look. “of course you’re pretty with a brain, why wouldn’t you be?”

you look towards the table with hollow eyes, blinking once, twice, before looking back at him again. he was yawning, not even looking at you anymore. you don’t mention his comment, pulling out your textbook and demanding he takes his out too. he follows your orders, but not without a grunt of disapproval. you smile to yourself softly, only for you to know about of course. you made sure of that. he wasn’t your type, not by a long shot. but you couldn’t help but find that he was still somewhat cute. his hair was a dark color, black locks covering his eyes. he needed a haircut, but it didn’t look like he cared much for it.

two hours of constant studying, and you start to realize just how.. smart he actually was. you hum, “you don’t need my help, donghyuck.” his eyes whip in your direction as yours stay focused on the work in front of you.

“i said you could call me hyuck,” he clicks his tongue, watching as your eyes trail over the material. he sees the small smile on your face.

“i know,” you shrug. you stretch a bit, back leaning into the chair as you raise your arms up, finally looking away from the suffocating words in front of you. you glance at him, seeing how he stared you down from his spot. you smile softly again, lips quirked up. “i’ll start calling you hyuck once you make yourself worthy of being my friend. right now, you’re tossing everything aside like it doesn’t matter. and i don’t know if there’s some broken memory filtering your brain but, whatever it is, it doesn’t matter as much as your future. you’re capable, you just don’t find yourself worthy enough for it.”

his jaw ticks, looking at you with an annoyed expression. he tuffs, “you high class girls really do have it easy, don’t you? you think i don’t know that?” he glowers, but you don’t budge even the slightest. “i just don’t want to waste my life with shit that doesn’t even fucking matter.”

you nod, moving to close your textbook. you don’t make much noise, no expression readable on your face. and hyuck wants to sit there with no regrets, but why does his heart hurt so bad? why did your words strike him so damn hard? why was his chest tightening as you continued to clean up your pencils and books? he watches you with silent eyes, his throat closing up as he gulps.

“i can’t change your mind, donghyuck.” you state, and the look on your face isn’t an expression of care. there’s no emotion, no remorse, no regret. you were emotionless, like some kind of robot. “i don’t expect to. i know you’ve probably heard those words a million times, but maybe my millionth-and-one time would have probably knocked some sense into you.” you shrug, tugging on your bag as you stand up. “i see i was wrong. don’t bother coming if you’re not going to use up the information usefully.”

and you walk out. there wasn’t any emotion lacing your voice, no glint in your eyes. why should he take advice from someone who wasn’t passionate about it either? why were you fucking with his head so damn much?

the next session, hyuck arrives five minutes later than usual. but, this time, he has a paper in his hand and a soft red gleam on his cheeks. you stare at him, watching as he marches in your direction with an almost embarrassed face. he looks annoyed, embarrassed, and maybe even proud. he slams the paper down on the table. your eyes don’t falter over the perfect score he places in front of you.

“see? i can fucking do it.” he huffs, plopping in the seat next to you. you glance at him, and he wants to say he’s surprised by the lack of expression but he’s not. he figured as much.

“i never said you couldn’t,” you slide the paper back on his side of the table. he watches with curious eyes, eyebrow raised in your direction. “i just said you weren’t making yourself worthy enough.” you don’t say anything else, silence falling over the both of you. and he’s sat there, shocked. he wants to storm right out, never speak to you again. but, for some reason, he appreciates your brutal honesty. everyone else was careful around him, treating him like he wasn’t capable enough. but you knew he was, unlike everyone else. was he sick for liking your careless attitude towards him? you didn’t care much for him or what he did. he should hate you. but he doesn’t. and he can’t.

you were right, afterall. you were always right. always the top of the class, never once faltering. you were like a machine at this point, everyone wondered if you even made time for the real world. you were just as good at reading people as you were with your class work. he’s known you since elementary school, all the way up to now in college. he’s not sure how he managed to stay here all the way to his second year, but he did. and if it wasn’t for the sudden appearance you made, he probably would have dropped out. how the hell were you motivating him so much?

“a ‘good job’ would have been nice too, you know,” he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he let’s out fake disappointment. he wasn’t used to the air feeling so intense, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you don’t need it, you’re not a dog,” you roll your eyes, writing down your assignments lightning fast, “if praise was what you wanted out of this, you’re not getting it. and i’m not apologizing.” you didn’t even look at him once. not a single glance, no reassurance. “i was hired to tutor you, not praise you for work i knew you could probably do in your sleep.”

he swallows, and there’s that random tightening in his chest again. he watches you work your pretty little heart out, he can practically feel the wheels in your brain turning out of exhaustion. he noticed the small circles under your eyes from the lack of sleep and food. he knew you didn’t eat or sleep much, too worried about keeping your scores up to care for yourself. why was a part of him worried for your health? he didn’t want to be, but he was.

“have you eaten?” he asks, staring at you as his arms stayed crossed, “you look like you need something to eat. you’re over worked, definitely.”

you freeze, looking up at him with a confused look that could easily be determined as annoyance. “why are you even asking? it’s neither of our jobs to care for one another.”

he nods, “yeah, but i don’t want you passing out anytime soon because you’re stuck tutoring some idiot like me.” he gets up, “let’s get something to eat.” he expects you to reject him, swat him away and demands he sits the fuck back down. he expects the same emotionless expression he always gets. he expects you to harshly turn him down, just like every other time. he expects you to shut him down immediately.

but, you don’t. this time, you finally don’t. he watches as you nod curtly, shoving your supplies back into your bag with not much of a quirk of your lip. but he sees the small smile, and he’ll remember this moment for the rest of his life. surely, he’ll remember the day he got you to stick your head out of your books and eat with him. he’ll remember the small smile you made before eating a decent amount of ramen. he’ll remember.

surely, he’ll remember.

day one of not speaking to hyuck was torture, but also nothing much new happened. he didn’t text you, didn’t wonder why you weren’t texting him anymore. he didn’t say a single thing after his last text, and you were silently dying inside. you hated that hyuck could tear you apart so easily, without even trying. but, maybe that was why he was tearing you apart. he wasn’t trying. not for you, not for himself.

you were hurting. you were so used to being stuck in a whirlwind of nothing, so used to feeling nothing. so when you finally felt something, anything, it came crashing down on you a million times worse than when you last remember. you surrounded yourself with yourself and your own memories over the years, never needing anyone else. but when hyuck came along, it was like that all changed. and you wanted to curse him for it. wanted to scream in his face and tell him how he fucked everything up for you. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. couldn’t bring yourself to yell at him, tell him he ruined you.

was this love? was this what love felt like? did you really love him so much to the point where you’d let him tear you up like this? maybe you did. maybe you did love him that much. would it make any difference in the world if you even told him? of course not. it wouldn’t matter if you were to scream in his face that you loved him, that you cared for him. so you didn’t. you never will. especially not after the torture he’s put you through. nothing will ever fix this. not even a love confession. nothing.

absolutely nothing.

day 2

“you’re actually quite mean,” hyuck pouts at you. you take a bite of your ice cream that he bought you, swallowing it with grace. everything you ever did was filled with grace, nothing less than that. over the past few months, hyuck had gotten the opportunity to get to know you and how you handled things. and, over time, he soon got over how blunt your personality could get. well, as much as he could at least.

“i’m honest.” you state. and you know you’re not wrong. he knows you’re not wrong.

“you could be a bit nicer about it,” he mumbles under his breath. the two of you had actually gotten quite... close, persay. as close as you would let him, at least. the closest anyone had ever gotten to you before, and he prides himself in it. the two of you were opposites, but he brought you out of the hard shell you lived in. and you kept him grounded when he needed it. you would always whip him right back into shape. he didn’t need words of encouragement when he had you, as cliché as it sounded.

you sit in thought, before humming, “i would rather someone be honest than nice to me. i treat others how i would expect to be treated.” holy fuck, were you always that cold? of course you were.

he nods, shrugging his shoulders, “i guess that makes sense.” he has nothing else to say. you always manage to take his breath away and win every argument. this wasn’t exactly an argument, more like a debate. either way, you would always win. he knew this. and he was sure you did too.

silence washes over the two of you, and it wasn’t in the slightest uncomfortable. he was used to your quiet nature, he was always the one the initiate anything around you. not that he minded. he actually quite liked it. you weren’t too suffocating, never too much. sometimes he thought of you as never giving enough of yourself, but he figured that was just the price of being around you. you would never let your guard down, no matter what. you were strong.

“i like you.” he blurts, and he’s so fucking embarrassed. his cheeks run hot and he covers his mouth with wide eyes. he sees the shock and surprise you let grace your features. he caught you by surprise. he got to see the way your eyebrows raised, the way your eyes popped out larger than normal, the way your breath caught in your throat. it was so much more than the expressionless emotion he normally got. he was proud, but the embarrassment overruled the pride.

and, suddenly, you’re giggling. you’re fucking giggling, and his heart gets sent into the clouds. he feels like he’s in heaven when the noise escapes past your lips, and your vocal cords come into action and your mouth falls into a pretty smile. you were striking. the sun was glowing on your face, and he felt like he was in some kind of stupid romance movie. your teeth flashed through his mind, your chuckles filling up the previously silent air. who knew you could be even more beautiful? who knew he could produce such a sound out of you?

your smile reaches your eyes as you stare at him, “look who’s being blunt now.” and the smirk you have on your face makes him almost pass out. he was overwhelmed.

he coughs, latching and unlatching his fingers together out of nervousness, “i mean... sorry. that was really fucking sudden.” he drops his head in his hands, avoiding eye contact. the heat on his face was insufferable at this point.

you tilt your head, looking at him curiously. did you possibly like him too? you weren’t sure what certain levels a crush held, you even used to have to look it up but the signs never matched when you were around someone. but, for some reason, he caught your eye. maybe you did like him. truth be told, you didn’t exactly run from emotions. you just didn’t really have them. they never developed into much more of what you were used to. so, meeting hyuck was a bit different. he had a lot of emotions. he was drowning in them. definitely not like you.

“me too,” you say, taking another bite of your melting ice cream. he shoots his head up as the blush creeps back and his eyes are as wide as ever. did he hear you right?

“huh?!” he tilts his head now, looking at you like a fish out of water. you laugh again, and his heart flutters heavily in his tight chest.

“me too, hyuck.”

it was your first time ever calling him that. he was surely going to pass out, definitely. yup. certainly. 100%. you fucking liked him?! you liked him!

he whips out his best smile, staring at you with bright eyes as he sees the way your own eyes start to sparkle even just a bit. but that was enough for him. more than enough. this moment was another one in the books. another he swore to remember for the rest of his life. he will never forget the smiles and laughs he got out of you that day. you were glowing that day, and he managed to get your number after that. you were still a bit closed off, but not as much as before. and he felt like he was winning an anonymous game. were you starting to trust him? he hoped so.

he really did.

you wash your laundry, clean up your living area, throw away the unnecessary items. you clean away everything and wash the clothes that smelt just like him. you were distracting yourself from the fact that you were ignoring him. you would ocassionally look at the pics he hung on your wall, insisting he put them there in case you ever forgot him. and you would end up finding yourself smiling a bit. he was such a dork, an overly sensitive dork.

but he was slipping through the cracks. and there wasn’t much you could do about it. he was ripping apart your relationship with him by not checking on you, not answering your texts or calls. you were blunt, sure. you didn’t know one thing about love or relationships, but you knew this wasn’t healthy. especially when you could feel your heart cracking at the mear thought of him. no, this surely wasn’t healthy.

you knew where he was, what he was doing. you could practically imagine him getting unimaginably high with his friends. and you didn’t care for his habits, no not one bit. he was allowed to do as he pleased. but why did he not care about you anymore? were you really that suffocating? were you too much? was this punishment? you believed if he really did love you, he would text you. call you. check in on you. but he never did.

and, that night, you don’t cry like usual. you lay in bed nostalgic as ever. but you don’t cry.

you just.. sleep. the memory of him slowly easing with pain.

day 3

kissing hyuck was like kissing a million different angels. you were in your own version of heaven. you could feel just how hot his cheeks were under your fingertips, and you smiled into the soft kiss you displayed. he wasn’t expecting such a sudden kiss, but you were surprising in more ways than one. he can’t read you. he would never be able to. but maybe that’s what he liked about you. so, the kiss eases into a slow entangle. and it’s not rushed, and he doesn’t eagerly pull you against him. it was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. you were used to guys ushering you into the kiss, immediately taking your tongue in their mouth’s. but he doesn’t. he waits for the swipe of your own tongue, asking for enterance. and he grants you with ease. and it’s sweet, soft, romantic even. was this a true crush? were these butterflies in your stomach normal? was this what everyone talked about? you were sure it was.

he pulls away first, staring at you with bright cheeks and glossy eyes. his lips were tinted red from your lip gloss, and you chuckle a bit. he was too cute, and the sunset was surely doing him justice. he had taken you on a date, not expecting much else from you than your normal emotionless state. but you surprised him minute by minute with the small smiles you would grant him. he was truly the luckiest man in the world, he was sure of it.

“what..” he pauses, clearing his throat as his hands stick on your waist like they were his anchor, “what made you do that?” his voice was slightly deeper, asking with a bright blush on the apples of his cheeks. and you smile at him brighter, your eyes glowing under the sunlight.

your fingers trail on the back of his neck, tugging at the nape of it and he feels shivers start to run through his body. “you’re cute. i wanted to kiss you.” you were honest, and he feels his ears starting to burn at the sudden compliment. you didn’t do that very often, in fact never. it was making him flustered.

“you are, too.” he mumbles, and he avoids eye contact, as if it was going to hide the deep blush that graced his pretty face. it traveled onto his nose a bit, and you placed a soft kiss there. he stares at you, his eyes a bit crossed from the close proximity. he can feel the heat starting to ease away a bit, but it was still present. you were truly adorable. damn it.

“you taste like..” you stand in thought, eyebrows scrunched a bit, “oranges. and honey.” you smile at him, and he can’t help the smile that reaches his own face. “i like it. i mean, it’s odd. but it’s surprisingly good, you know?” you snuggle into his chest, head resting there. he hums at you, tugging you closer. “you’re my boyfriend now, aren’t you?”

he chokes a bit, eyes wide as he laughs. “i mean, if you want me to be...?” he hoped you did.

“sure. i mean, i did just kiss you.” you were so warm against him, your voice echoing through his body and into his ears. you were so... gentle. surprisingly gentle. he felt his body start to tingle at the feeling of your touch, having you so undeniably close. you were a feeling he never wanted to let go of. he never wanted this to end.

“got a point there, smarty,” he kisses the top of your head. and you stand there longer than intended. and it’s nice. the silence isn’t strong, it isn’t suffocating. it isn’t intense and it isn’t too much. it’s just right.

it’s always just right with him. always.

you wipe at your cheeks, hot tears trailing down them. you may not have fallen asleep crying, but that didn’t mean this hurt any less than it did. you were still dying on the inside. still curling up in a small ball at the tiniest thought of him. he tore you apart. he was ruining you. why were you letting him? why the fuck did he get to do this to you?

he was making it seem so easy. so easy to forget you and act like you didn’t exist. how did things come to be like this? what did you do wrong? was this your fault? he brought unhealthy images in your head, unhealthy thoughts. and you hated him for it. well, you wanted to at least. but a small part of you still loved him, still cared for him.

day three of not talking to him. you planned on just ghosting him completely, healing at your own time. why did it matter if you talked to him? he never wanted to in the first place. maybe it would just be easier to... forget him. even if you knew you couldn’t. you could try, right?

but when you hear a knocking on your door, your heart jumps out of your chest. and you feel like you’re drowning all over again when you open the door to reveal the man that had taken up your whole entire being. you let him. you let him rule you, let him consume your brain until it was only filled with him. he brought pain, anger, frustration. but, at one point, he made you happy.

and, maybe that’s why you dragged him inside that night by his collar. kissing him like you missed him. kissing him like it was the last time you would ever get to. and you can feel the sweat on his palms as they trailed beneath your shirt, doing his best to shut the front door and tug off the offending fabric. and you kiss him. you kiss him like he’s all that mattered that moment. and he can feel the drying tears, even taste them on his tongue. and he hurts. and you hurt. you both hurt the size of everything.

words weren’t exchanged, the soft panting falling into the once silent room. your hands are in his hair, tugging them just like you know he loves. and he knows your body just as well as you know his. his kisses trail along your neck, being careful as to not leave a mark. he knows they annoy you sometimes. and when you both make it to the couch in the middle of your living room, he places you down gently. he looks into your eyes, and he gives you the fake promise of home. and you accept it for the meantime.

“i hate when you ignore me,” you let out, tugging his own shirt off as his hands fumble with your pants and slides them down your legs. he looks at you with sad eyes, and he knows. he knows he’s hurting you.

“i’m here,” he kisses you sweetly, and you return it with earnest. his fingers trail along your folds suddenly, and the gasp that leaves you makes his groin twitch. you were so intoxicating in his eyes. why couldn’t he show you that? why was he so fucking afraid? “you’re wet,” he hums, biting on your shoulder, “missing me that much?”

you nod, your fingers starting to dig into his arms, “yes. always.”

and he pulls back to look at you, sees how your eyes look at him with an emotion he loves most. adoration. and he relishes in this moment, he swallows it whole. he remembers it, stocks it away for next time. he’s brought out of thought when he sees you innocently starting to tug on his pants, demanding they’re pulled down. he helps you, chuckling as you watch him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“condom?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in question. but you shake your head.

“no, it’s fine,” you grab him and pull him close to you again, “want to feel you.” and he makes quick work to position the both of you comfortably. he stares down at you like you’re the only person he’ll ever love. and you assume he means it, just for that one small moment. and he kisses you while slipping into you, making you gasp into his mouth. and he loves the way you sound, the way you feel, the way you look. you were perfect.

and, for the time being, the both of you act like the world isn’t falling apart at your feet.

he thrusts into you easily, sitting still, “you’re tight. i never fuck you enough, do i?” he kisses your cheek, groaning when your walls flutter.

“never enough with you,” you hum, “please move, hyuck.” and he does. he does, because he wants to make up for lost time. he wants to show you that you really do mean something to him. and it’s not fucking this time, it’s like he’s cherishing your body the way he knows he should from now on. his hips switch from intense thrusting to rolling into you so you can feel just how deep inside of you he is. and it feels so fucking good. so, so good.

“you’re so... good, baby.” he huffs in your ear, and you whine at the rough tone. “always so good to me.” he pushes your leg over his shoulder, and you moan as he hits the sweet spongy spot inside of you that has you clutching even tighter onto him. each thrust makes you whine out his name, chanting it like it’s the only word you truly know. and he loves it. god, he loves it.

“hyuck, fuck.” your voice was getting louder and louder in his ear, and he can feel the way your walls were starting to grip him like a vice.

“gonna cum, angel?” he questions, and it’s so obvious with the way your nails were now trailing along his back. you were desperately holding onto him, in more ways than one. “you can cum, love when you cum around me.” he whispers, kissing the place right behind your ear.

“oh god,” you moan, and you can feel the coil inside of you snap, “hyuck, shit, oh fuck.” you bite your bottom lip, cumming around his cock like you were made to. and it’s such a sweet sight, such pretty sounds escaping you that it has him following his own sweet release. you feel his cum shoot into you, prolonging your own orgasm. it feels so good to have him so close, feel him fill you up with something that only belongs to him.

your fingers travel up to the nape of his neck again, running your hands through his soft hair. and he lays on top of you, not bothering to pull out just let. you can feel some of his cum dripping down your thighs and onto the couch, but you don’t mind. no, not at all. when he finally does pull out, he’s quick to run and get a wash cloth, just for you. and he cleans you. let’s you know he wants to take care of you.

but you know this is the end.

and it’s an unspoken ending. the both of you know it. the look in both of your eyes when they meet for the first time in a really long time. his were filled with regret, and yours were filled with remorse. the two of you were undeniably tearing one another down. there was no fixing this, no. never in a millon years.

“for what it’s worth,” you slip your own shirt over your head instead of his this time. and he notices this. “i do believe i love you. no past tense.”

he stares at you, eyes starting to water. did he really tear you up that much? of course he did. there weren’t many other words that needed to be spoken in that moment. the two of you were ending. it was an awaiting process, you both knew it would happen. but that didn’t mean it would hurt any less.

“i believe i love you, too.” he looks at you, his voice a bit shaky, “no past tense.”

and he dresses again. and you watch as he gets ready to leave. you kiss him one last time before you send him off forever. you stand there, your heart in your hands, kissing him one last time. the very last time. he hugs you before he leaves. before the door shuts and you’re both left to remember the good times, the bad times, all of the times.

when you pull back, you kiss his cheek, “thank you.” you whisper, and it’s so low that only the two of you would ever hear it. “you’ve taught me how to love. and now you’re teaching me how to let go. and i hope one day, we both heal.” you weren’t used to heavy emotions. but, when it came to hyuck, you couldn’t help yourself. you could never help yourself around him.

“me too,” he stares at you as his arms fall to his side, and so do yours. you were both oceans apart, even when standing right in front of one another. you guessed this was why the two of you could never work. “thank you.”

you smile softly, “bye, hyuck.”

he nods his head, the both of you with tear stained cheeks, “bye, y/n.”

and you close the door. the very, very last time. and you’re in love, but he’s not there. and he’s in love, but you’re not there. that was just the way it was.

the way it would always be.

when sadness was the sea, you were the one that taught me to swim.

you taught me how to be alone. and i learned my lesson, in your absence.

a/n: hope it was good!

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bloodyshadow1 · 3 years

Note

just out of curiosity (this isn’t meant to be a rude or sarcastic question), what was it that bothered you most about the kingsley thing?

for context, I haven’t actually seen the ending yet, i’ve only heard vague spoilers about what happened, but I am curious to hear your thoughts on it (i don’t mind hearing more spoilers abt the ending!)

sorry it's taken me so long to answer, I've been trying to word things right because I've been told I sound abrasive over text and I want to be clear that it isn't directed at you anon, it's just how I am as a person. Discourse under the cut

There are many things I dislike about the Kingsley thing, I'm not going to rant here (even though I did looking back and I apologize), but I'll give you some that I think are what bugs me the most. The first being that nothing that happened with Kingsley couldn't happen with Molly, after the initial waking up scene. We only had 26 episodes with Molly, we didn't know him that well and he's been dead for almost a year, anything except the not remembering anything, from walking away from a fight that he is clearly underleveled for, to going to be on a boat as a pirate could have all been Molly. It would have achieved the same thing, except he would have had the bonds with the Nein that started to grow as Molly, seeing them as they were at level 5 to now saving Exandria, but that didn't happen. I never really understood the Yasha Molly bond, since Yasha was gone for most episodes that Molly was around for and she was very quiet during those episodes, they never got a chance to really talk about anything deeper so it feels like an informed relationship, but Yasha the character cared for Molly yet because he's Kingsley, they barely have any interaction again and it feels empty and hollow. He barely interacted with any of the Nein, and certainly not on any deep level. He didn't even bother to ask their names, and only seemed like a kid dashing to do the next thing he could think of, only being able to do so because he is around a bunch of rich and powerful strangers that are treating him well without any actual care or curiosity about them. We got a shallow shadow of Molly and Lucien in Kingsley who doesn't add anything to the story.

There's also the fact that spells that bring back the dead don't work like that. There needs to be a target and a willing soul, that's what Matt's revival rituals are for, to coax the soul back to the body. I'm all for bending the rules of dnd for cool stuff, but it is part of extra rules in critical role that needs bending and it makes Lucien's argument of Molly never existing as anything but a shadow fragment of himself have a lot more weight if he didn't get brought back through magic and a literal goddess stepping in. Also greater restoration shouldn't have done anything but bring something back, it restores, it's in the name, it shouldn't have created a new personality and it definitely shouldn't have destroyed molly's old one if that's what happened.

Additionally, if this happened in an episode that wasn't the finale of the campaign, then I would feel differently. But it was, there isn't any more story, he's there for a bit part of the finale and nothing more. It's like if Liam came in with a half-elf rogue at the end of campaign 1 I would be pissed off at that character too. The story of the Mighty Nein is over, yeah there will probably be oneshots, or specials maybe, but it's over over, no more episodes every, the fellowship is broken, and they are living their own lives not as their adventuring party. I nothing Kingsley because there is nothing to care about, if he wasn't wearing the Molly/Lucien body he would be a random NPC, but because he is, he is just there with nothing really to get attached too. I know some people like him, I honestly can't understand why people do. He's Molly without any of the time or bonds that made Molly interesting, he's just a boring version of Molly and there's no time to get attached or understand anything more than. There's a reason why in almost every form of media, they refrain from introducing a new character in the last episode or chapter, because they come off flatter than the other characters the audience has followed, and for the most part they're right. Maybe they'll do a oneshot that focus' on him but I don't know why I should care.

The biggest thing though, is that it feels like defeat was snatched out of the jaws of victory. The whole final arc, the Nein has gotten nothing, no real treasure or magic items, not even renown and respect like Vox Machina did in defeating Vecna and saving Vasselheim, it seemed like actually getting Molly back was the one thing they wanted..., and then they didn't. He's a stranger wearing their fallen friend's body, who doesn't even seem to care about what they struggled for, that gods had to beat luck to bring him back and they're nothing to him. They got more from curbstomping Trent and bringing him to justice than the whole rest of the final arc and Kingsley is just another reminder.

Sorry for this rant, you did ask, but I just needed to get this out. I wasn't actually that attached to Molly, he was a fine character but I think the fandom got way too attached to him and instead of actually caring about his canon self, they pushed their head canons on him and that has it's own problems for me. But Kingsley just coming in literally right before the series ended just felt like a kick to the groin. Other people feel differently, I'm definitely not someone who says the cast is playing wrong, it's just something I hated about the finale of the story I loved and followed for so long.

#critical role #the mighty nein #critical role spoilers #cr 2 ep 141 #critical role discourse

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omni-scient-pan-da · 3 years

Text

And They Were Oarmates

The Third Part of My Fic About The Oars by omni-scient-pan-da (One, Two, All)

For @i-have-all-these-freaking-uwus @burntuakrisp @wh33z @reaping-mae @jo-the-nerd @emo-bi-mess @taurianskies7 @the-dumbass-multishipper @pictures-that-are-kinda-cool @iprefertheterminsane @inkytrinket-irii

About six weeks had passed since Rowan set out on his journey to find his husband, and word was starting to get around that he was looking for a warlock with green magic.

Unfortuntely, he was no closer to finding Killian than he had been when he first started. Anytime he thought he’d found someone that could take him to the warlock, it turned out to be the wrong person. Every lead he had had led him to a dead end, but Rowan refused to give up hope. He’d do whatever it took to find his husband, even if it killed him.

Right now though, things weren’t looking the greatest. Even if he hadn’t been worried about what was happening to Killian he had more pressing matters to focus on at the moment.

Like the angry dragon that he’d accidentally stumbled upon.

Bright green fire shot past Rowan as he darted to the side of the cave. Holy shit, Rowan thought to himself. I didn’t realize dragons were so sensitive about being called warlocks.

It hadn’t seemed like an unreasonable assumption at the time, but if nothing else, this dragon really seemed to hate being confused for a warlock.

Rowan peaked around the corner, trying to gauge how far away the exit was. If he could just get past the dragon without being burned to a crisp, he could try and make a break for it. But of course, that would require him to actually be able to make it past the dragon.

“Look, I’m sorry I confused you for a warlock!” Rowan yelled, trying to reason with the dragon. “It won’t happen again!”

Green fire shot down the corridor once more and Rowan sighed. This was going to be difficult.

Killian fell to the ground, breathing heavily.

“Again,” the warlock commanded, glaring at him.

“How many times is it going to take for you to realize I just can’t do magic?” Killian asked, wiping sweat from his brow as he pushed himself up off the ground into a sitting position. “It’s just not possible for me.”

The warlock smiled at him and suddenly Killian felt very very uneasy. The warlock never smiled, not unless he was about to do something Killian would absolutely despise.

“Everyone can do magic Killian,” the warlock sneered. “Maybe it’s just that you need a little more motivation.”

Green light sizzled through the air and all of a sudden the warlock was holding Killian’s ring in his hand. His wedding ring. The one thing that he had left to remind him of home, the one thing that still connected him to his husband, the one thing that gave him hope that he might actually find his way home.

“Isn’t it funny how something so small can give a person so much motivation?” the warlock asked, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

“Give it back you son of a bitch,” Killian ordered, trying to put all the force he could muster into his words, but even to his own ears his voice sounded hollow, shaky, and a little broken. He couldn’t take the ring, the ring was the one thing he had left.

“This little old thing?” the warlock asked innocently, twirling it in his hand. “Maybe having the metal on your person is what’s interfering with your magic.” He grinned sadistically and the palm holding the ring lit up in green flames.

Moving without thinking, Killian roared, lunging at the warlock. “YOU BASTARD!” he wound his arm up to punch the geezer in the gut, his own fist now alight with burning red angry magic as he swung. The only thing on his mind was how badly he needed to get that ring back, he had to have it, the warlock couldn’t take it from him, he needed it, he needed Rowan, he needed-

All of a sudden Killian flew back in the air before landing on the cold hard ground once more, his stomach on fire as if he had been the one to get hit and not the warlock.

In front of him the warlock laughed as green protection sigils flashed around him. “Reflection spells Killian, remember?”

Killian took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the searing pain in his abdomen. “Give me the ring back or I’ll kill you.”

The warlock snorted. “As fun as it’d be to see you try, I think there are more important things at hand here, such as the fact that you can do magic.” he held up the ring, that sadistic grin of his plastered across his face once more. “And now I know exactly how to trigger it.”

After nearly getting burned to death by a dragon and numerous other failed attempts at finding his husband, Rowan was starting to get really fucking tired. He wasn’t giving up hope just yet, he couldn’t give up hope. Rowan couldn’t even begin to fathom how he was supposed to carry on without even the smallest slimmer of hope of finding Killian again.

But he was getting really really tired of all the traveling and time and energy it took for him to even find the smallest whisper of Killian, only for his plans to completely blow up in his face.

All he wanted was to find his husband, was that so terrible? Was he truly destined to endure a life of suffering without him? Constantly searching for a man that might not even want him anymore?

That was the worst part about this whole ordeal, the way Killian had acted in those last few precious moments before he had been stolen from Rowan. The warlock had to have done something to mess with Killian’s mind, right? There was no way Killian would’ve said or done those things of his own violition...

Rowan shook his head as he walked, heading back into the inn where he had been staying for the past few nights, hoping he could get in quickly without the owner noticing that half his shirt had been scorched off. Luckily for him, Rowan had always been able to pull of a crop top.

Rowan pushed open the door to the inn, peaking his head inside to see if there was anyone in the lobby. Upon finding no one, he darted inside, thankful his room key had managed to survive his little skirmish with the dragon as he unlocked the door to his rented room and steped inside, sagging against the door as soon as it closed behind him.

“Just... Keep moving Rowan, keep moving and you’ll be fine,” he muttered to himself under his breath. “As long as you keep moving, you’ll find Killian eventually and then... And then...”

And then he really didn’t know what would happen next. He’d find some way to free Killian from that horrible warlock that had taken him? He didn’t know the first thing about magic, how was he supposed to defeat an all powerful warlock? And then of course came that nagging little voice in the back of his mind as he started to question whether or not Killian would even want him to come to his rescue...

Rowan sighed, pushing his doubts aside as he dug through his clothes to find a new shirt. He’d have to buy a new one to replace the one he’d ruined, but that could wait for another day. Right now he needed a drink and a long night’s rest before he decided which town to jump to next in search of his husband.

After changing clothes, Rowan headed out of his room once more, this time to the small tavern across the street from the inn. After taking a seat at the bar and ordering a drink he glanced around the room, looking for anyone that might have any clue where his husband could be.

“This is pointless... I’m never going to find him this way. I need to change strategies or... Or something or else I’m going to go insane.”

“They say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, so I’d say you’re on the right track,” a voice perked up from behind him said.

Rowan jumped a little in his seat, turning around to find a cloaked woman standing behind him. “I um... I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were standing there.”

The woman smiled slightly. “Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time... You’re the one trying to find the Le Sorcier Vert, aren’t you?”

Rowan’s eye’s widened. “Do you know how to find him?” His heart was pounding in his chest and he didn’t dare to hope any more than he already was. He didn’t know if he could handle losing hope the way he’d lost Killian.

“I can do you one better,” the woman replied. “I know how to defeat him.

Author's Note: Okay alright it's been 3 months since I updated this but I have no concept of time, so once again, special thanks to @i-have-all-these-freaking-uwus for sending me an ask and motivating me to finish this thing! There WILL be a part 4 and when I post it you can find the link HERE and I'm thinking part four will be the finale? Who knows, but there should be an updated list with all available parts HERE that includes links to the whole series, and I promise, the story will definitely have a happy ending. As before, if you wanna be tagged when part 4 comes out, leave a comment below or reblog this because seriously, I will not work on this for ages unless I have external motivation. Thanks so much for reading this far, I'm glad you're all enjoying the story so far!

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im-whatchamccallit · 4 years

Text

Circles//Kim Doyoung (NCT 127)

Pairing: Kim Doyoung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Series/Multiple parts, Mafia/Crime!AU, Suggestive, Angst, Fluff, Potential Smut in future chapters

Warnings: Suggestive content, mention of guns and murder, mentions of the mafia and organized crime

Word Count: 4.5k

(A/N: So, like I said in one of my last post, I’m trying to start a series so that I will have a reason to post more often and not let this blog die the way I did before. Only problem? This was the first thing that came to mind and I’ve been terrified it won’t do well so please leave feedback if you like it so I know to continue it. This is also my first NCT 127 post so... Yay! Also, I recently read about how taboo a lot of people think the mafia/crime AUs are in fanfiction and I want to be cautious of their feelings in regards to this which is why I also haven’t posted it but I just want to post something while getting out of my writers block. But, again, leave feedback on whether you love it or hate it, leave request if you want, anything’s appreciated.)

Masterlist|Guidelines

You’ve seen elegance but never at this level, eyes glued to the ceiling that seemed to reach heights you could only dream of, not even thirty basketball players stacked onto one another’s shoulders able to graze the top. The sparkling from the crystal gold leaf chandeliers adding to the fairytale-like atmosphere as servers of all kind bustled around you offering food and drinks at any given chance, your hand reluctantly staying at your side as you declined their generosity. You were starving, but you had a job to do and, that job, was Song Minhyun.

He was the newly appointed Don of the Amarillo family, his father passing away from an unknown condition only a week ago but, based on how fast Minhyun made the world aware that he was now in control of all the illicit acts committed in the name of Amarillo after years of having their identity protected and undisclosed, even going as far as to threaten and betray the various families beneath him in an insane power trip, it was clear his father’s death was no accident. But you were never a fan of that man, he was creepy with a bad attitude to match, so this task wasn’t some gesture of vengeance for him, it was strictly about you and your family.

Just like the Amarillo’s, your family went under an alternative name, Nio’s, which closely resembled the name of the pharmaceutical manufacturing company masking it, Neo Tech. It always made you laugh considering no one caught on to their association, given Nio’s were the largest distributors and exporters of controlled substances in majority of the Eastern hemisphere. But joining Nio’s wasn’t a life you wanted to live, you were practically forced into it, but once you’ve engrained yourself into a life of organized crime, it was impossible to leave. You lived every day with the mindset of kill or be killed, Minhyun’s threats to expose your operations to the NIS who, after the death of Nio’s founder, Kim Dongwan, assumed your family officially ceased activity in the crime syndicate, being your main motive for taking him down. Sure, you were ordered to handle the assassination but, considering you could face life in prison simply for everything you’ve done in the name of Nio’s, you were more than willing. There was one problem though, Song Minhyun was an absolute dream.

Your thoughts seemed to fade into nothingness when you initiated conversation, going with the plan to seduce and kill him only to find he was much more enticing than you anticipated. He was a year or so older than you yet spoke like he was some immortal seer, his wisdom and life stories drawing you in and leaving your heart racing. His smile was so wide and gummy but eyes sharp and attentive, never leaving yours even as he drew you further from the crowd which, according to Taeyong, was not part of the plan. And you couldn’t begin to understand how fucked you were.

You didn’t know where he was taking you, too focused on his words while simultaneously adjusting your silky white dress to reveal more cleavage from the already plunging v-neck and your walk becoming sultrier to expose more of your leg from the thigh-high slit.

“You know, you shouldn’t focus too much on your looks when you’re naturally beautiful.” Minhyun spoke, your eyes darting to him as your hands returned to your sides, a shy giggle echoing in the now deserted hallway he lead you through.

“Can you blame me? Standing next to an attractive man can really mess with a girl’s self-esteem.” You admitted, suddenly feeling like some high schooler in a rom-com.

“Well, I can help with those insecurities. Just tell me where to start and I’ll make you feel like an absolute queen.” Your breath hitched as his body turned to face you, hand reaching to cup your neck but it was large enough that his thumb could glide over your bottom lip with ease, smudging your red lipstick against your skin teasingly but still holding your gaze.

His presence, the sheer dominance he exuded made you whimper in a mixture of fear and pleasure. You weren’t going planning to escape yet he made the initiative to hold you close to him, an arm wrapped securely around your waist making a heat rush through you that could only be described as want, no longer aware of your duties and no longer caring. He was perfect, and you wanted a piece of his perfection. Maybe for the night, maybe forever, you decided you’d choose after whatever surprise he had for you was done in the dark office he dragged you into, your excitement blocking out the burning gaze from just down the hall.

Minhyun shut the door, not bothering to lock it seeing that you were so willing and easy to remain with him. He knew who you were and what you were planning to do. You were an orphan taken in by Nio’s, trained to be a child soldier for a man who couldn’t even hold his own against Minhyun’s father, now under Taeyong’s rules and orders. But knowing that his first encounter with Taeyong was less than stellar and the sudden ultimatum to forfeit all their assets to the Amarillos or be handed over to the police for sentences that can range from 50 years to death for each and every one of his precious borgata, the only thing Taeyong could do was kill him and you, unfortunately were just a pawn in those plans.

“You know, your looks are nothing to be insecure about. You’re beautiful beyond comprehension.” He spoke lowly, inching closer and guiding you to his large desk just by the window, the moonlight that seeped through the blinds the only form of light allowing you to take in his features.

You gasped as he grabbed your hips, spinning you and pressing you over the desk. You sighed in contentment at the feeling of his hands caressing up your thighs, dress riding up and slowly revealing the black thong you had, a low chuckle leaving his lips at the sight. Not just because you were practically bare before him, but at the pocket pistol held securely in its holster that you managed to forget about. It was a Glock 42, making him proud that he did his research on you because, if he was in your position right now, and the number of murders you committed were accurate, he’d be a goner already.

“(Y/n), if only you were as smart as you are beautiful.” He said, your eyes widening at the way he spoke but, more importantly, he knew your name. Your real name. Not the one you were given for this mission.

“How’d you-Ow!” You whimpered as he grabbed your hair, pulling you upwards until your back was flush with his chest.

Tears were pricking your eyes, your breathing heavy as you felt a cool metal press to your temple swallowing hard while simultaneously attempting to reach to your thigh discretely to find your own gun, only to find it was the one in his hand.

“When I read about you, I was so intrigued. So curious. You know there’s only one photo of you online and it’s a mugshot from when you were still living on the streets?” He laughed out loud at that, ignoring the way your body thrashed against his in an attempt to free yourself, head leaning further away from the possibly cocked gun in fear that he was finished monologuing already.

“But you’re really weak. And I’d usually like that in women, especially when they’re this submissive but, them wanting to kill me is a deal breaker. So what am I to do if I have the opportunity to murder my would-be assassin?” His lips were pressed to the shell of your ear, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to silently apologize to the Nio’s. Sorry that you let your guard down, that you let some pretty face turn you into some horny teenager, the only plus side to your death being that it wouldn’t be Taeyong killing you because you knew how much he loved to torture before doing the deed. And with that final thought, you were ready to die, just hoping that someone else could finish the job you’ve failed tonight. And they did.

The sound of the door colliding with the wall was all you heard, followed by two hollow gunshots. Your eyes flew open as you felt Minhyun’s body fall limp against yours, hand slowly releasing your hair until you could move again, quickly shoving him off to adjust your dress to cover yourself before facing your silent savior, your heart stopping at the fierce, angry, “don’t move or I’ll kill you too” gaze Doyoung was giving you.

It was one thing to piss off Taeyong, you knew what to expect, but with Doyoung? He wasn’t a killer. In fact, he was the medic of your unit, coming along in case things went awry and someone needed instant care. He was a gentle person with a snappy attitude, but never one to act on his threats, so to see him with a gun in his hand, a body lying face first in blood from its skull and chest created by the man himself and approaching you with a scowl so deep you thought his baby face would finally start to wrinkle, you felt more fear than when you were almost dead.

“D-doyoung. Thank yo-“ You gasped as your head turned, eyes stinging with tears and cheek burning in both embarrassment and from the harsh impact his hand left.

You slowly peered up, afraid he’d strike you again just to see Yuta and Haechan slipping by silently, giving you a brief glance while collecting to fallen shells and your gun from Minhyun, only to leave you alone once more with the unpredictable aid.

“Doyoung-“

“Let’s go.”

Those were the only words he said before turning to head out of the office, your body immediately following close behind. He was silent the entire time, stuffing the pistol back into his waistband before buttoning his suit’s blazer to conceal it, leading the both of you through the still bumbling party and to the exit. Everything he did felt so tense despite being so normal. The way he spoke to the valets, how he entered the car without bothering to open the door for you, even his group call letting everyone know the task was done felt hostile. But you said nothing, continuing to wait idly by and praying he forgot about the situation.

You were tempted to break the awkward silence looming between the both of you on this seemingly hours long drive but, from the way he was radiating heat from how angry he was, you felt staying silent would be best. But you didn’t want to stay silent. You wanted to thank him for saving you while simultaneously screaming at him for slapping you, but also have one normal conversation with him. It was painful to admit that for the past few years you both weren’t exactly friendly with one another, no one seeming to care as “this was strictly business”, and you hated it. You never said it but you loved the Nio’s members and knew they loved you and each other as well, but for some reason the only two people that kept this family at arms length were the core members, Lee Taeyong and Kim Doyoung.

You knew Doyoung wasn’t a fan of the family ever since his father introduced him to that life, pissed he didn’t follow in his older brother’s footsteps and leave as soon as possible. He was supposed to be the heir to the family and be the boss of the 18 people living under his roof and the 7 working overseas in China to keep production there running and, as much as you didn’t want the responsibility, he was in too deep to run away. He opted to stop training for field work, developing a phony passion for medicine and surgery which led to him becoming the emergency medic for the team and no longer catching his father’s fancy for taking over their empire, leading to his heirship being rescinded. And as for the spot as heir? Doyoung’s father ordered Taeyong to fill. You knew Taeyong a lot better than the others but were utterly shocked to see him take over so easily. He was obviously a natural born leader but he had a habit of complaining about not always wanting to be in charge, using you as his unwilling therapist when he felt like reverting to his unintimidating, crybaby self. But there was no exit at this point, so what more could you do than make the most of a bad situation by befriending one another and having fun when you felt your lives were no longer in danger? And, whether they liked it or not, they were going to have fun with you and the rest of their constantly growing family.

“Y-you know, I was more scared of you then being killed back there. I’ve never seen you so mad.” You laughed, hoping to at least get a smile or something from him, your eyes glancing over to see his grip on the steering wheel tighten at your words. Maybe you should’ve just shut up.

“Doyoung, I’m sorry I put you in a situation where you had to kill, I know you hate stuff like that but, if it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be dead. Besides, it’s kinda like medicine if you think about it. Except you saved a life by taking one rather than just giving drugs to- OW!” You cried out as he slammed on the brakes, the only thing keeping you from flying through the windshield being your hands on the dashboard and the seatbelt crossed over your chest and waist.

“You bitch!” You snapped at him, watching his blank expression as he removed his seatbelt and turned off the car.

“Meet me in my office. You have five minutes.” Doyoung said plainly, your eyes fixed on him in bewilderment as he exited the car with no concern for you.

You let out an annoyed breath, your fear from before mixed with anger as you hurriedly followed his lead, leaving the car and speed walking to the front door he was entering through. To your surprise, most of the guys were there, not sparing either of you a glance as they knew what had happened and knew better than to interfere, but one person didn’t keep quiet.

“(Y/n), what the FUCK did I tell you?” Taeyong growled, your body practically jumping as he cornered you in the entrance’s corridor, eyes burning with anger and panic that you knew he had no way of controlling. He was always a hothead.

“I-I-“

“I’m having the meeting with her, Taeyong. Don’t bother. You have two minutes.” Doyoung spoke, voice fading as he continued down the hall to the small office he typically frequented to buy and sell shipment for Nio’s personal and professional use.

As soon as he was out of earshot, you grabbed Taeyong’s hands, eyes wide and teary as you tried to plead with him to save you.

“You went off where we couldn’t see you and didn’t even complete the mission. You could have been dead by now.”

“I know and you can punish however you want but, Taeyong, Doyoung is pissed, and I don’t know what to do. He already slapped me, now he’s not even speaking to me,”

“He never talks to you.”

“He does sometimes, when he wants to be a sarcastic asshole! But, please, Taeyong, talk to him. Calm him down so he doesn’t hurt me again.” You tried to use a soft voice, hoping to strike a sympathetic nerve in the doe-eyed man.

“(Y/n/n),” Taeyong sighed, cupping your face and making you lock eyes with him.

“You fucked up and made Doyoung do something he’s sworn to himself and us that he’d never do. His anger is justified. But I’ll be there for you whenever you’re in danger, whether it’d be an enemy or anyone living in this house, I’ll never let you get hurt.” He gave a warm smile, your lips curling to mimic his.

“But not tonight. You put us all at risk as you need to face the consequences.”

“Taeyong!”

“I’ll visit you in the infirmary later tonight.” You whimpered in fear as he kissed the crown of your head and pushed you in the direction of the office, heels clicking against the white marble floor as you stumbled to what might be your imminent doom.

You could taste blood in your mouth from the way you bit down on your tongue to ease your anxiety, your once statue-like body moving forward with caution although the chilly air was urging you to retreat. You couldn’t turn back because Taeyong would just escort you to Doyoung himself but if you went straight to Doyoung, who knows what he’d do. You couldn’t even take a second to cry over your dilemma once you noticed the dark brown mahogany door. The office was soundproof, something you both loved and hated. Whatever Doyoung wanted to scream at you would go unheard by the men possibly showering and preparing for bed after a somewhat successful evening, but then they wouldn’t hear you scream for help. It reminded you of earlier tonight, making the situation a bit more lighthearted until you realized you could’ve died then and would possibly die now.

“Oh god,” You breathed out in a whisper, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath as your hand gripped the steel doorknob, turning it and entering the spacious and organized room.

“Doyoung.” You spoke lowly, shutting the door behind you but refusing to move any closer to him as he sat with an unrecognizable file before him.

“July of 2016, you were assigned to deliver a new batch of amphetamines to Xu Minghao who ran the Chinese operations of Sebong. Instead of cooperating with Weishen, AKA the Chinese sector of your own team, you thought doing the drop off yourself would be fine, only to let your guard down and let it slip that you were in Nio’s which promptly lead to you not only being ambushed, but Sicheng jumping in to save you and being shot in the lower back in the process.” He said blandly, flipping over the page to yet another as you swallowed hard at the memory, accidentally mentioning Haechan’s name and revealing you weren’t just a middle man in their operation but a direct asset, and Winwin payed the price for your stupidity.

“I remember just fine, but-“

“February of 2017, you knowingly entered enemy territory in Kyoto without alerting Yuta who, as you’ve always known, is in charge of our Japanese affairs. He has people over there for a reason, to handle the shit we can’t while we’re in Seoul. But you waltz over there and initiate a gang war that has only now been resolved.” He said, voice growing in annoyance and animosity that was a complete 180 from his once emotionless tone, your voice caught in your throat as you also remembered that day. You were on vacation and thought it’d be fine as long as you went in some disguise, but you were too well known and the fact you couldn’t speak Japanese only made it worse. You even remembered how Yuta refused to talk to you for months as he traveled constantly to fix your mistake.

“I-I know I fucked up that time but I tried to explain and I-“

“And that brings us to tonight! You had to stay in the spotlight with the man threatening not only your life but everyone you know in Nio’s and neighboring groups, and lead him back to the apartment we set up for you for a simple and quick execution, but you decide to go further into his mansion, expose yourself to him, and allow him to nearly murder you with your bare ass out!” His voice was strained as he screamed this time, your eyes watering as he pushed the large leather chair back to stand, making his way around the desk to approach you.

“I’d remind you about what happened in 2013, but I’m sure you’d never forget that.” He said with no emotion once more, your eyes low as you tried to suppress the urge to touch your slightly sunken head. Your our only job was to shoot if you saw someone escaping during an exchange but, instead, you were hit yourself, every medic working hard to keep you from dying and leaving you with a partially shaved head and a new metal plate in your skull.

“But I want you to tell me who saved your ass that time, (Y/n)?” His voice was playful now, emotions changing like an out of control radio station. Sometimes you wondered if he was just as mentally fucked as Taeyong.

You gasped when you felt his hand gripping your face, forcing your head up and back until your eyes met, a fire behind them that made your stomach swirl in fear but enchantment. You almost even forgot about how rough his grip on your jaw was because his hands were so soft, the warmth he let off no longer intimidating but causing you to turn to putty in his hands and wanting to fall against him in comfort and bliss. But the sudden harsh flick to your forehead made you realize he was anything but comforting.

“Stop acting like a touch starved dumbass and answer me. Who the fuck saved you from bleeding out in a filthy warehouse in the middle of fucking Daegu?” He said harshly, your eyes darkening as you tried to keep your composure.

“You did.”

“And you decided that me handling the responsibility of operating on you was some sentimental, heroic act and that from that day forth, you would make it everyone’s job to save you? That it was my job to save you?”

You felt your eyes tearing up again, lip quivering as a sob threatened to escape you and he could only let out a scoff, harshly pulling his hand back as he watched you cry.

“And now you’re crying.”

“I tried to thank you, I tried to apologize for making you save me yet you won’t let me! You slapped me! You’re screaming at me and making me feel bad when I already fucking feel bad. I know I’m fucking up and it’s hard on you guys but I-I just don’t know what to do! I’m tired and sick of having to live every second of my life knowing there is no one in this world I can trust and that I can never leave and that’s all I want, Doyoung! I just want to leave and be a normal person.”

The silence between you was deafening, almost loud in a way, but it was allowing you both to take in the words you said. You could see the look of conflict and annoyance on his face through your tears, a glimmer of what you both hoped and feared was sadness in his eyes as he rolled them to look anywhere but you. And what Doyoung saw of you was a breeding ground of trauma and dysfunction.

You were no different from anyone there, your life story was so similar to most of theirs that no one had time to pity you. You joined Nio’s when you were only 10, hair matted and filthy like the clothes you wore, hands stained red with blood and a look in your eyes that screamed frustration but hopelessness. You were the perfect tool for his father and it was sad watching yet another lost soul fall into this lifestyle. But you proved to be so capable of yourself, strong and competent but, after the death of his father, something in you changed. You were emotional, distracted, constantly agreeing to do task but never fully connecting mentally. He even noticed you screaming in the middle of the night from nightmares. Whether you remembered or not, you and Doyoung were close, so close it managed to shift the atmosphere of Nio’s into something enjoyable and worthy of being part of, but he knew it wasn’t good for you to stay. Not for any of you. So he gave you a chance to leave, a chance to live your life the way you had always told him you wanted, but you didn’t take it. Your reason? Taeyong. You never explained why he was the reason you were staying but the way you constantly clung to their leader like you were his lapdog was all the clarification that he needed. For Doyoung, the closeness you shared and the desire you both had of living normal lives was nothing compared to the same greed for power you shared with Taeyong. So he stopped trying to save you, stopped focusing on how to help you preserve what little of your sanity was left until now. Seeing you at your breaking point made it clear to him that even if this life would follow you forever, letting you go was better than having everyone killed from your mistakes. And, if you left, whatever problems haunted you would be yours to face alone, and he was fine with that.

“You will never be a normal person. And whatever life you choose to live will be as stressful as this one because you’ll spend every second looking over your shoulder wondering who’s out to get you. But, you’re dead weight now, and it’s unfair we’re the ones that have to keep carrying you. I don’t care when or where you go, just leave.” His tone was harsh and cold, the relief you felt at his words not enough to ease the pressure in your chest.

Doyoung’s no longer had power to make these decisions once Taeyong was appointed as leader, so you knew without the boss’ approval his word meant nothing. But, if you had the chance to run, why not take it? Maybe for one day, you could be free, probably take the time you needed to hide away from Nio’s and the crime world you knew all too well. You had no set plan, but sticking around trying to making one would do you no good.

“T-thank you. Thank you for everything.” You said with a small voice and deep bow, Doyoung not bothering to look at you as you hurriedly exited the room to head to yours and pack any belongings you needed for your new life.

You knew this life was hard to leave yet lived with the ignorant optimism that there was always some escape and no turning back. Unfortunately for you, you were simply a butterfly living in an airtight jar and, no matter where you turned, the air you needed was nowhere to be found and, tonight, was the beginning of your suffocation.

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timeforelfnonsense · 4 years

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Bound

Dafni x Astartion || Rating: E (very spicy: See Ao3 tags for a run down ) || Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

Notes: Sub & dom Astarion all in one fic? Maybe so. Shadowheart's off-handed line about the PC tying her up if she started to turn inspired this filth (I'm sure she'd be loathed to know that). I'm also a fan of the sexy misuse of spells and hadn't written femme dom in a while. It was a perfect storm. Evlish Translations: Qu tel sy- Bindings of the wilds

Astarion watched Dafni’s dainty fingers casually trace an arcane pattern in the empty space before her.

“Qu tel sy” Her voice wavered a bit in its attempt at sounding commanding.

Cute.

Tendrils of jasmine vine sprung from the earth below him winding up his biceps binding him at the wrist. He’d heard her make a sharp quip about tying Shadowheart up that afternoon. The comment had worked his way into his mind. He was normally much more interested in taking the lead but the idea of playful, defiant Dafni taking control was rather enticing. A fantasy worth indulging in at least once.

“Comfy?” She asked, her head tilting to one side.

“Very.”

With a nod, she began to leisurely undress herself. His hungry gaze followed her dainty fingers as they came to the tan leather straps that kept her breastplate fastened. She took her time with each buckle admiring the tiny floral etchings as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. Slowly she shrugged herself free. Carefully laying it down beside her long sword and bow. Next, she set herself to the thin metal plates that protected her knees, removing them and adding them to the neat pile.

“You are taking forever, Daffodil.” He complained.

“I could go slower?” She retorted leaning over as she slid her hands down her thigh to her cave.

“No. No, take your time I’ll just be making a mental note of what a terrible pricktease you are being.”

Dafni rolled her eyes, tugging off her boots. Her fingers toyed with the laces of her breaches before moving to the pearl buttons at the wrist of her tapered bell sleeve.

“I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day.” She mused, halting her undressing once more, “Can you really not see your own reflection?” Astarion let out a frustrated breath. He should have expected her to drag it out. The little puck! Really he’d walked right into this. He tried to pull his hands free of their bindings so he could have her and be done with this gods’ damned teasing but she only waved her hand casually, causing the vines to pull him firmly to the ground. “My, my someone is impatient! I believe I asked a question?”

“I really can’t.”

“So, you don’t know what you look like?” She inquired.

“I’m sure right now I look rather annoyed.” He quipped back.

“I’m being serious.”

Oh no.

Not the pout!

Her lower lip jut out ever so slightly. Her eyebrows began to stitch and his heart threatened to melt into a puddle. He was certain she knew he’d cave if she gave him that look. He had been able to resist when they’d first met but lately that quivering lip was a sure-fire path to getting her way.

“Ugh- Alright! I'll indulge you! Little brat...” He said with a stroppy huff, “I have a general idea of how I looked before. Lacking any evidence to the contrary, I just assume I look amazing.”

“Dear me!” She tuted with a chime of silver-toned laughter, “So cocksure. You satisfied my curiosity-” A coy smile flashed across her face, “For now anyway. I think that deserves a reward.”

She brought her hands behind her neck unbuttoning collar, tugging her blouse over the top of her head. Astarion gave a weak attempt at silencing a low snicker as the fabric got caught on the long line of her ears in her haste. An adorable pink bloomed across the apples of her rounded cheeks. Her fingers returned to the satin ribbon at the front of her pants once more, shimmying her wide, seductive hips as she slipped them off.

His breath caught in his chest as he drank her in. She was eternal in the warm candlelight. A goddess all his own. Plump curves. Full breasts. Her loose curls cascading down her back like a river of rose petals. Freckles like flecks of gold covering her soft, kissable skin. She looked like a dream, dressed in nothing but her smalls and the crescent pendant that hung from her neck. The cool evening air danced across her bare sink prompting a tiny shiver from Dafni. Her nipples hardened as goosebumps broke out across her exposed skin.

“You are outstandingly beautiful, to confirm your suspicions.” She hummed straddling his hips. He could feel her warm core against his length through the thin fabric of her panties. He pressed himself against her, rocking slowly against her cotton clad folds. She gave a delighted squeak, wiggling against the solid pressure of his erection. “ I wish I could draw so you could see for yourself. Unfortunately, I’m hopeless with bush and canvas. I am quite good with gab, however. I could paint you a picture with words instead? Would you like that?”

He’d be lying if he claimed to have never been curious about his own appearance. He had a few memories of his mortal countenance. But like the majority of his past time and torment had left them hazy and abstract. He’d definitely had a little more color in life. He could recall being fair but not quite so cadaverously pale. His eyes would have been the most severe change, save the fangs. He’d seen the same haunting scarlet in the irises of every vampiric creature he’d met. He flitted through his thoughts trying to recall their previous color. Knowing Dafni she’d eventually ask him, if not now later on one of her whimsical larks. He was somewhat sure they had been green? Her offer seemed more and more appealing as his mind shifted through faint, crumbing memories. It would be fascinating to hear what parts of him she’d taken particular notice of. Moreover, Dafni had the remarkable ability to see the absolute best in everything. His appearance would likely be much the same and what man wouldn’t want the object of his desire to spoil him with compliments?

“Go on.” He affirmed with another eager roll of his hips against the growing wetness between her legs.

“Very well. You have a strong, angular jaw and perfect cheekbones. You have a little birthmark riiiiiight- Here!” Dafni explained, noting the spot on his cheek with a peck, “You have the most heartbreakingly handsome grin I’ve ever seen. Your nose is very straight. I can tell you weren’t in many bar fights!” She giggled, tapping the tip of his nose with her index finger. Astarion scrunched his nose in response prompting another musical laugh from Dafni. Followed by a long, slow kiss to his lips. He slid the edge of his tongue along the seam of her lips. A dissatisfied curse escaped him as she pulled back. Dafni only continued to beam with bemusement at his wanting. She brought a hand to a stray lock of hair that had fallen into his face. She wound the curl around her fingertip before sliding her fingers through his hair. Tugging softly at the root as she pushed it back. “Your hair is the color of moonlight. Your eyes are my favorite, though. So striking… The color of fine claret. Expressive too! If I want to know your mood I can always see it in your eyes. Or by the tips of your ears. They go pink when you are flustered. It’s faint but I’ve spent enough time admiring you to notice.” She nibbled his ear to emphasize her point, drawing a quiet whimper from Astarion. She kissed her way back down his body pausing on the hollow of his neck and collar bones. “You’ve always reminded me of the statues of the first elves we had in Peleira. Awe-inspiring figures cut from marble and alabaster. Trim and regal just like you.” She slid off his hips, kidding each rib on the right side of his body before settling between his thighs. Her soft hand wrapping around his member. A needy growl fell from his lips as she began her lazy pumping. She let out a playful chime of laughter before running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. “And of course your cock is absolutely glorious! So long with a slight curve that hits all my secret places. While I’m not the inexperienced maiden you hilariously mistook me for but, you do make me feel as if I were. You make sex feel new and exciting, Astarion. You make my life exciting all around. Normally my fancies come and go with haste, but I can’t imagine myself ever growing bored with you. I’ve never had a lover hold my attention as you do.”

Her adoring plaudits were overwhelming. Each comment was painfully sincere. Her free hand drifted between her own legs. The licentious mewls she made as her fingers toyed with herself made him even harder. His mind was swimming with desire. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into her snug, wet sheath. She must have seen the hunger in his expression. His body went taut as he felt her soft lips around him. Gods he wanted to touch her! To sink his fingers into her soft curls while she worshiped his cock. His hips bucked against her mouth as instinct took over. The sweet vibration of her giggle sending a shiver down his spine. He almost didn’t notice the feeling of more plant life ensnaring him, ankle to the shin. He could feel himself swiftly approaching the brink as she teases his tip.

“Daffodil…” His voice came out in a strained whisper, “You’ll need to stop soon. I’d still like to have you in other ways.” With a hum of understanding, she removed him from her mouth with a soft pop. Her thumbs hooked the edges of her underwear removing it in one quick movement. His wrist strained against his bindings as he attempted to reach for her hips. “Wait a moment. I want to taste you first.”

“You want me to unbind you?” She asked.

“I didn’t say that.” He chuckled a playful half-smile on his lips.

“Oh.”

Dafni’s belly flipped when she heard his request. The embers of confidence smothered by her own insecurities. She’d had her fair share of lovers between her thighs but she’d never like...That. Astarion was so lithe. She didn’t want to smother him!

“You can say no, darling.” He reassured, “However if you are worried about hurting me, don’t be.”

Nibbling her lower lip as a hot flush broke out across her naked body. “How did you know?”

“You have the same needlessly embarrassed look on your face as you did when I picked you up in the forest.” He sighed, continuing, “It's fairly common anxiety as well. I promise I’ll be perfectly fine. Besides if you accidentally suffocate me you’ll have to go fetch an emergency revivify scroll from Shadowheart and the thought of her reaction when you told her how I died is positively delightful!”

Dafni tried to hold in her laughter but it came out in a snort, “You are awful! What if she wanted to see your body?”

“Gods, I hope she would! Can you imagine her shock? Finding me all tressed up in jasmine after meeting my untimely end betwixt your gorgeous thighs!” He stated with a mirthful grin, “This all hypothetical of course. I fully expect you’ll be the only one to experience a little death from sitting on my face.”

Dafni felt her nerves steadying with his gentle taunting. She couldn’t decide if she was touched or mortified that he’d taken note of her insecurities. She’d never voiced them but he had been perspective enough to notice the little changes in her demeanor. He had a knack for catching on to the little things other people tried to hide. Part of the ‘wiles’ that had kept him alive for the past few centuries. She supposed his perceptiveness was the flip side of his secretary. Both had been informed by a difficult life.

She brushed her lips against his. Their foreheads pressed against one another. “Alright.”

Dafni steeled herself as she settled her thighs on either side of him. Ever so slowly she lowered herself towards his smirking mouth.

Oh wow.

All the worry slipped away with the first pass of his cool tongue along her slit. A lewd gasp broke free from her as he sealed his lips over her clit. Sucking and teasing her to delirium. Her hips grew a will of their own rocking forward, chasing the electrifying sensation. Her squirming only seemed to embolden him. His attention shifted to the mouth of her arousal. His tongue eagerly exploring her dripping center. Her confidence returning with each dizzying lick. She thought she’d feel ridiculous perched on top of him. The sight of Astarion happily ravaging her with his mouth left her feeling empowered and needy.

“Gods that’s good!” She whimpered rutting against him, “I-Wow… I kind of want to keep you here a forever.” She tugged at the roots of his soft curls pulling him deeper into her arousal. Promoting a delighted purr from Astarion as he continued to lap away at her quim. “Keep going! I’m so close...Ah! Astarion! Please! More!” A few more skillful sweeps of his tongue and the hot coil of building pleasure snapped loose. She hadn’t meant for the lamentation that followed to come out at such a high volume. She normally tried to be courteous of their friends. It was close quarters and they would likely not enjoy her keening half as much as Astarion did. She bit down her lip quieting another cry as the tempest of exaltation mixed with the sharp sensation of his teeth on her inner thigh. After a few swallows, he brushed his lips over the wound in a chaste kiss. She climbed down from her seat, flopping down on his cool chest. Her breath coming out in ragged heaves. “That was life-changing.”

She glanced up finding him staring with even more hunger than usual. His chin shimmering with slick. Lips stained red by her blood and his eyes alight with impatient longing.

“Years of practice.” He stated with a wicked grin, “Now if you’d be kind enough to free me, Daffodil? If I don’t have my way with you this instant, I might be driven mad.”

She nodded climbing off his chest to receive one of his daggers from his things. She carefully cut away the blossoms and vines that held him prone. As soon as the blade cleared the twist of greenery, he pounced, laying her out on her stomach. Dafni let out a peal of amusement, propping herself up slightly on her elbows. Astarion ran his finger along her slit, causing her to shiver. A dark, desirous sound rumbled in his chest as he sunk two fingers into her, “Still a little sensitive, are we? There is still nectar dripping from your flower down the back of your legs. I knew you’d enjoy your little ride. I certainly did. You’re so beautiful when you come undone. Squirming and squealing. Though, I wonder what the others will say now that they’ve heard you screaming my name like a trollop?” He let out a moan as Dafni clenched around his pumping fingers, “Should we see if I can get you to do it again?”

Dafni cried out as he impaled her with one urgent push. His hips met her’s with a smack before he withdrew almost completely. She whined at the emptiness, relief washing over her as he resheathed himself with another unyielding shove. It seemed being unable to touch her had inspired a carnal frustration he was desperate to satisfy. He gathered her loose hair up in one hand, yanking her back as he continued to pound into her. He hissed as Dafni brought her thighs closer together, savoring the hardness of his length inside her.

“Tell me again, tart.” He demanded wrenching her back to look at him, “Tell me how I make you feel like a vestal maid with my ‘glorious cock’.”

“For you, I am reduced to a lusty, untouched damsel.” She confirmed pushing her backside against him.

“Indeed you are.” He released his grip on her curls, bringing his hands to rest on the swell of her hip tugging her even closer.

He growled his approval before sinking his teeth into the warm hollow of her throat. With each sip, she felt his heart fall into step with her own. It was a strange sort of intimacy that felt a bit metaphorical. Cold, wicked, Astarion’s undead heart lurching to life. Beating in perfect time with her own as she coursed through him. Dafni knew it was a silly, romantic notion but that could hardly be helped. Especially when he was ravaging her with such vigor. Her second climax flourished as he pressed himself against her just so. She convulses under him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Astarion tore himself away from her neck, incarnadine eyes burning ravenous with a mix of thirst and fearsome wanton need.

He shouldn’t have bitten her again. It was a rash, risky choice, especially when he was already frenzied with lust. That first taste from her thigh had been the most exquisite yet. The sweetness of her blood mingling with the earthy tang of her slick had been transcendent. The soft, sunny, joy he’d experienced when feeding on her in the past had been replaced with a blinding exaltation that had nearly finished him off untouched. If the first bite had been transcendent the second had felt like finding himself in Arvandor itself. It took no small amount of will power to chase off his instinct to drink her dry.

As he beheld her writhing, buxom form an admission rushed out of him, “I never want anyone else to touch you again.”

Never?

Oh, gods, that was a fool thing to say!

“I’m spoiled for all others.” She assured, “No one else could please me as you do.”

Her words ignited something base in him, pushing him to the edge. With a final crude thrust, he found his rapture, flooding her snug, soaking, heat with his release. All the while his thoughts rang loud with one word.

Mine.

He lingered behind her for a while, his chest heaving and heart racing. He knew he must be a flustered mess and he didn’t really want her to see him like that. He’d already shown her too much. He squeezed his eyes shut. Composing himself before laying out beside Dafni.

When his eyes fluttered back open he took stock of the scene before him. Dafni’s expression was somewhere between dazed and ecstatic. The wound on her neck was still dripping red. The one on her thigh had closed, turning a deep purple. His seed seeped from her entrance. His chest went tight, his cheeks a deep red. She was well and truly debauched.

“Daffodil?” He said softly as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, “Are you ok, dear?”

She blinked a few times before nodding, “I’m ok! Just a little woozy and overwhelmed, maybe? Kind of floaty.”

“Completely fair. That was...A lot. I might have gotten a bit carried away. Apologies.” He brushed the loose hair from her shoulder to get a better look at the puncture on her neck, “If you feel faint, you should eat something. Tell me what you’d like and I’ll fetch it from the camp’s stores?”

“Some water would be nice and maybe an orange? I think we have some left from the druids.” Dafni turned to her side, cozying up beside him. She looked up at him through curling pink lashes. Her mossy brown eyes expressing an uncharacteristic shyness. “After I have my snack, could maybe I stay with you again tonight? You can say no! I won’t be offended. I understand that you like your space and I don't want to be clingy! I-I’m just feeling a little vulnerable after all that and I don’t think I could handle a walk of shame right now…”

It always stung to hear that she expected him to throw her out as soon as the deed was done. He supposed she had every right to after his attempt to leave her alone in the woods that first night. It should have been clear to her he enjoyed her company by now. Hadn’t she noticed all of the parts of himself he’d conceded to her? He’d told her about Cazador- Not everything but more than he thought he’d be willing to share with another person. He let her linger in his personal space and hold his hand almost constantly. He watched out for her when she was too blinded by her own generosity to do it herself. He had even admitted how important her well being had become to his own! And still, she assumed he’d toss her out into the night.

“Of course you can stay,” He scowled tuting his disapproval as he spoke, “I just assumed you would start staying with me after I invited you to the other night. Apparently, I should have been more clear. Unless I tell you otherwise, you are always welcome to stay with me, Daffodil. So please stop acting as if I’m some cold-hearted dastard? It’s offensive and it bruises my ego.”

“You mean it?” She chirped a blinding grin across her winsome features, “I can stay here whenever?”

He groaned, “Yes. I know you don’t like trancing alone and I like having you around. It makes sense for us to share quarters. If I need space I’m sure you’ll know. Now I’m going to get your food and water before you swoon from bloodloss or over-excursion.”

#astarion #dafni of gwynneth #elf writes #elf gets spicy #sunshine & starlight

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years

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BTS DRABBLE-OT7 🎃

Halloween Series: Halloween Surprise OT7

You always expected that you’d go to hell when you died. I mean, you weren’t terrible, but you weren’t an angel either. But what you hadn’t expected was to be shown through the seven circles of damnation by seven men-each more dangerous than the last-that plausibly could’ve passed for angels. Dark and beautiful angels, disguised as demons. And by the time you reach the last circle, it’s with a horrifying reminder from the darkest angel of all, that you realize you are not quite who you thought you were.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, Halloween, Spooky Season, BTS Drabble, OT7, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok, kim namjoon, park jimin, kim taehyung, jeon jungkook

Warning: Mentions of torture and damnation, obviously.

Genre: Angst

Title: Seven Circles

CIRCLE I-GLUTTONY

As soon as the icy sleet hits the back of your neck-sending prickling waves of cold across your skin-you know where you are.

Opening your eyes, you see nothing but a white wasteland surrounding you-puddles of chilled slush pockmarking the ground and already soaking your shoes-and in the distance, though you cannot see them when you look straight on, only from the corner of your eye, is the blurry figures of dark shapes moving through the curtain of hail and rain.

The damned.

You shiver, wrapping your arms around your body to try and retain your heat-though you’re technically dead, so you don’t know how you think this will help-and start to feel lifeless tears drip from the corners of your eyes, obscuring the ghostly moving figures at the edge of your vision.

“Chilly, isn’t it?”

The voice startles you, and you whirl to face its origin-icy puddle at your feet splashing as you do so-and are startled to see a very real, and very solid, shape of a man standing before you, watching you with a slightly grim smirk stretched across his full lips, pulling them upward into the start of a heart shape-odd, in contrast to the rest of his steely expression.

“Who are you?” You ask without thinking, still shivering-ever more violently now-as the man flashes you a grin full of white, blocky teeth and steps toward you.

“I am the keeper of this circle.” The man gestures to the cold landscape surrounding the two of you. You note, briefly, that there is a pair of dark, black feathered wings sprouting from his shoulder blades, but again, you feel as if you cannot look at them straight on or they will disappear.

You tilt your head down slightly, to try to keep him in the corner of your vision. “Right. The first circle. Gluttony.”

“Hah.” The beautiful, dark features of the man contort with a humorless laugh, and his black hair sweeps into his eyes momentarily, as he leans toward you and places, long cold fingers beneath your chin. “Beautiful and well read.”

“What do you want?” You ask, pulling from his grasp, as a scream-probably of someone being condemned-echoes down from the gray flat sky above. “And you still haven’t told me who you are.”

“Ah.” The man, his fingers still frozen where your chin had been moments before in his grasp, retracts his hand, and nods curtly. “I am Hoseok. And as for what I want,” He eyes you openly, and his tongue darts out to trace across his lips, as you feel more chilled at his look than you had before. “That will have to wait. For I’ve been assigned to escort you through the first circle and to the next.”

“What?” You burst out, completely confused, as the man-Hoseok-turns his back to you and begins to trudge through the slush, onyx wings shimmering and moving in and out of focus. You take hurried steps to catch up to him-sneakers now absolutely soaking-and huff out between breaths, “I thought I was staying here.”

Hoseok laughs-the sound once again hollow-and ushers you in front of him as he walks. “Oh, hells no. You’re moving on, sunshine. To sweeter and greener pastures if you will.” He looks over his shoulder and winks at you, though the gesture makes the pit of your stomach roil with sudden unknown fear.

As you walk-to keep yourself from hearing the shrieks and looking out of the corner of your eyes at the blurry, dark figures hidden behind the sleet-you suddenly blurt out, over the sound of your crunching footsteps, “What did you do to be here?”

Hoseok stops suddenly in front of you, causing you to almost stumble into him, and you wonder, for a brief moment, if he has stopped due to your question, until you see the large, wooden, barred door looming up from the white landscape in front of you.

He steps aside, watching you carefully and intently, as you take a hesitant step toward the door. “I wanted something I couldn’t possibly have.” He says simply, but the way his words echo in your head, and the way he looks at you-just for a moment-as if in melancholy, puts you on edge.

“Anyway.” He forces another hollow smile to his lips-and once again, the heart shape catches you off guard-as he pushes the door inward to reveal nothing but blackness beyond. “Enjoy your stay, (Y/N).”

And before you can ask how he knows your name, you are being pushed through the door into the dark.

CIRCLE II-GREED

You notice-as you enter the second circle-that it is much hotter here than it had been just moments ago in Hoseok’s circle.

And there is a distinct smell in the air-almost the smell of hot, burning metal-that instantly fills and overwhelms your nostrils.

“You’re late you know.”

The sound of the deep, smooth voice, draws your attention away from the horrid smell, and to the tall, lanky figure of an incredibly handsome man, lounging on a large, cold looking golden throne.

He flicks his fingers at you in disappointment, as he sighs, and-uncrossing his legs-stands to face you, dark chestnut hair framing his beautiful features, as a look of disgust crosses his face. “I’ll have to remind Hoseok to send you people on time.”

“You people?” You bristle slightly. “And who are you?”

“Oh, darling.” The man laughs-the sound light-and stepping away from the throne, walks down the steps toward you, his shoes loud on the solid gold beneath his feet.

You note-almost immediately-that he has the same type of shimmering, almost hallucinogenic wings adorning his back as Hoseok.

He reaches you, and stopping to study you for a moment, he reaches out-fingers covered in gold rings-and strokes a finger down the still chilled skin of your cheekbone. “I am the ruler here-You may address me as Seokjin.”

You ready yourself to say something else sarcastic, but before you have the chance, Seokjin is putting his hand at the small of your back, and pressing you forward.

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

You take hesitant steps-but the weight of his hand at your back pushes you onward-and as you continue to walk, you realize, the smell from earlier is becoming overwhelming, and the sound of moans and groans and cries for help begin to fill your ears.

“What-” You start to say, but the words die in your throat, as Seokjin halts his progress forward, hand still on the small of your back, as you look down into the deep dregs of a pit.

The edge upon which you stand drops sharply down into the pit-and just like the earlier circle-there are dark, shimmering shapes filling the pit, the air rent with their cries, as they claw at the sides of the giant bowl, only to be swept back to the bottom as soon as they gain their footing.

“Is that-” You begin to ask, eyes wide, as you tilt your head to look at Seokjin, standing proud and tall and silent beside you.

“Gold. Yes.” Seokjin nods, almost imperceptibly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Greedy in life, the souls are damned to spend the rest of eternity suffering because of what they craved most.”

You feel the breath leave your lungs, and you turn from the pit, trying to calm yourself, voice shaky, as you ask, already knowing the answer, “So I’ll be with them, then?”

There is silence for a moment, and then Seokjin’s fingers curl beneath your chin, the gold rings cool against your flushed face as he turns you to face him. “Oh, no. You’re moving on. You’re much too good for this circle, darling.”

He snaps the fingers of his free hand, and a door-gleaming gold in the dim light- appears before the two of you, swinging inward, once more, to reveal nothing but blackness on the other side.

When you hesitate, Seokjin pushes you forward with a hand once more on the small of your back. “Good luck, darling. And don’t forget-” He offers you half a smile as you leave. “Don’t crave more than you can have.”

CIRCLE III-ANGER

The first thing you hear when stepping into the third circle is bellowing and ranting and over it all, the smell of swamp and decay in the air.

You glance down, surprised that the ground under your feet doesn’t seem to be solid, and note that your previously soaked sneakers, are now buried ankle deep in mud and muck and moss.

“Great.” You say to yourself, rolling your eyes.

Honestly-you’d never thought hell would be great-but you’d always assumed it at least had solid floors and wouldn’t ruin your sneakers so damn much.

“So I take it you like the interior decorating then?”

You glance up, no longer surprised, expecting to now be greeted at every level by some form of hot demon with black shimmering wings, who seems to know something about you that you don’t.

This demon-or dark angel or whatever-does catch you slightly off guard.

Simply for the fact that he’s breathtaking. And his voice sounds like dark honey sliding raspily from his throat.

He raises a dark brow at you-from where he sits, perched precariously on a large boulder, feet bare-and cracks a boxy grin in your direction. “Like what you see, princess?”

“I-” You swallow, and look away from him, only daring a glance from the corner of your eye to catch a better sight of his large feathered wings. How was this kid the keeper of the third circle? And anger no less? He seemed like nothing more than a jovial, innocent child.

A gorgeous, dangerous, darkly scary child.

Suddenly, he is in front of you, fingers-just like the other two before him-finding purchase beneath your chin, and you note, as you try not to look at him, that his feet are perfectly clean and seem to hover above the swamp you’re currently moored in.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He asks smugly, and you finally look up at him, just as he smirks, and the tip of his tongue appears to dart across his lips, caramel irises darkened beneath the sweeping mop of his curly black hair.

“No.” You huff out, straightening slightly and pulling away from his firm grasp on your chin. “I’m just worried if I talk too much, that your terribly rank swamp air is going to infect my lungs.”

“You’re dead.” The man states simply, almost curiously, as he cocks his head to stare down at you in amusement.

“I look pretty good for a dead bitch.” You snap back a famous line from your time alive, and instantly regret it, as the man in front of you laughs loudly and deeply from within his chest at your joke.

“I’m Taehyung.” The man grins at you once more, and then takes your hand, pulling your feet from the mud, as he leads you back toward the boulder he had been sitting on earlier. And suddenly, the ground feels less liquid beneath your feet as you follow in his steps. “Welcome to circle three.” He waves his hands at the dark and murky atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

“Anger right?” You ask, as he pulls you up easily to stand beside him on the large rock. You glance around, and note that the dark swamp surrounding you appears to be moving with more of the dark, etheral damned souls.

“Right.” Taehyung sighs, reaching up to rake a hand through his curls, before he says with disappointment, “Wish I could keep you here a little longer, princess, but you’re on a tight schedule.”

You open your mouth to respond, but suddenly, a door appears beneath your feet-well, less of a door and more like a sewer grate covered with thick iron bars.

“Wait.” You hold out a hand, before he can snap his fingers and send you through to the next circle. You’re curious now. “Why are you here?” You ask bluntly, and Taehyung’s eyes darken slightly, and his normally jovial lips flatten into a hard line.

“Anger issues.” He shrugs, playing off the moment, and readies to send you through the door, as he adds vaguely, “I hurt someone I loved.”

And with that, before you can smell the swamp air once more, or ask any other questions-like why the demon’s face suddenly looks so sad-you are sent through the grate and into the black once more.

CIRCLE IV-HERESY

Circle four is HOT-flames and fire and cinder and ash-and so, it doesn’t surprise you, once you get your bearings, to see that the demon that watches over the souls here is also incredibly, absolutely, for lack of a better term, hot.

He approaches you immediately, as you’re coughing and choking on the ash filling the air, and the pair of wings on his back-shiny and out of focus-appear almost blacker than the others, against the harsh, orange light of the fires.

“Noona.” He nods politely to you, hands behind his back, as if he’s scared to reach out and touch you like the others had. “Welcome.”

There is something about him that seems oddly familiar-the large doe eyes, the way his long bangs fall across his forehead, the muscular physique, that is in contrast to the quiet personality-but before you can put a finger on anything, he is speaking once more.

“I’m Jungkook.” His eyes flick to yours and then away, as he backs out of the way-so that you can see the fiery pit behind him, flames licking up the sides of the bowl-as screams emanate from the depths below. “This is circle four.”

“I know.” You nod, not feeling quite as out of your depth with him as you had the other three. “Heresy right?”

He nods once more, silent for a moment, and then swallows, his full lips parting slightly, before he says gently, “However, you don’t belong here.”

“I don’t?” You ask, surprise clear in your tone. How far were you going? Your eyes glance over the pair of beautiful, feathered wings on the young man’s back, as you ask carefully, “But you do?”

Jungkook’s lips purse, and you can see through the way his eyes tighten, that he is considering how to respond to your question appropriately.

This kid-that you swear you know-couldn’t possibly be a heretic right?

There is the sound of a piercing scream and one of the dark figures you can see from the edge of your vision-trying to claw its way out of the hot pit-falls back in a poof of cinder and dark ash, that joins the rest of the pollution already floating in the smoky air.

Finally, Jungkook speaks.

“I do.” He nods, just once, solemnly, and then-still without touching you-motions for you to step toward the dark, charred door you have only now noticed. “You have to go now, noona. They’re waiting for you.”

“Who’s waiting for me?” You ask desperately, as Jungkook, with his mere presence, pushes you toward the now open doorway of black.

Doe eyes gleaming, and a look of almost regret on his beautiful features, Jungkook ushers you to the edge of the doorway. “The hyungs.” He says simply, dangerously.

And before you can ask what that means, you are once again tumbling into darkness on your way to the next circle.

CIRCLE V-VIOLENCE

Circle five’s ground-immediately beneath your feet-is squishy, like the edge of a lake or pond, and you watch-with horror-as puddle instantly begin to pool around the toes of your shoes, crimson and steaming.

The air smells like a new penny-copper and metallic-and when you lift one of your feet, the liquid beneath your toes is thick and drips slowly, burgundy as it creates ripples in the puddle.

Blood.

You feel panic creep up into your chest, and you have to focus on keeping your breathing even, as you glance up, and in the distance, see the edges of a red lake-boiling and steaming-splashing crimson droplets into the reddened air of the atmosphere.

And in the lake-hands and wavy, distorted fingers just visible above the surface-are the souls of the damned, dark and desperate and drowning.

Drowning in blood.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You start slightly, but only because the purring voice is right in your ear, and the feel of warm breath brushes across your skin and makes you shiver.

And out of the corner of your eye, you see the black wings, folding and unfolding lazily against the dark angel’s back as he stands beside you.

“Wasn’t the word I would have picked.” You manage to retort back, although slightly breathless, keeping your gaze away from him, as you look down at his fingers-small and petite-curled around your shoulders, silver rings glinting in the blood red lighting.

The man laughs-and the sound is light and airy and almost beautiful-as he turns you to face him now, almond shaped eyes regarding you carefully, as dark blue hair falls across his forehead, obscuring his gaze. His full, plump lips curl upward into the hint of a smirk. “Ah, but I’d use that word to describe you, baby girl. Most definitely.”

You swallow hard. He’s incredibly handsome, and smooth as all hell. You have to remind yourself that he’s a demon and a keeper of a literal lake of blood.

“You seem to know me.” You say, almost smoothly, as you try not to let yourself look directly at him and get lost in his eyes. “But you are?”

“Ah. How rude of me.” He tilts his head, watching you like a dark panther stalking his favorite prey, and his pink lips part slightly to reveal the tip of his moist, red tongue-the same color of the blood surrounding you. “Park Jimin. Keeper of the fifth circle.”

The name rings a bell in your head, but shaking the thought aside, you ask casually, “Am I staying then? Or are you simply showing me onward like the last four?”

Jimin laughs-the sound once again enchanting-and releasing his hold on you, takes a step backward, snapping his fingers as he does so.

The blood on the ground rises to form the shape of a large, ornate throne, and Jimin casually sits down on the warm, undulating liquid, watching you with half lidded, catlike eyes, before he replies easily, “Ah. So you met my brothers.”

He snaps his fingers once more, and a liquid, crimson door rises from the bloodied floor, swinging inward-once more-to reveal nothing on the other side but onyx night.

“Unfortunately-for me and yourself-” He sighs, tsking slightly, as he waves ring adorned fingers in the direction of the door. “You’ll be moving on.” He smiles, and it’s a pretty gesture, but gives you the willies, as he leans toward you, chin held up in his delicate, small hand. “So go on then, baby girl. And tell the others hello for me.”

You don’t dare ask him why he’s here, and without chancing another look at the alluring demon, you step into the door and go headfirst into the dark.

CIRCLE VI-FRAUD

“So you’re here.” The voice is a purr-like a cat, but holding a dark, dangerous, almost uninterested edge-as it reaches you through the blackness. “I’m lucky Jimin didn’t try to keep you for himself.”

You can’t see anything. Everything is dark and cold and desolate, and as you try to splay your fingers before your face, your breathing quickens, as you realize-it’s pitch black.

“Who are you?” You ask into the nothing, desperately spinning in circles, trying to see who are what is speaking.

“Probably your worst nightmare.” The voice replies, tone bored and deep, echoing around you from every direction.

A heavy hand drops onto your shoulder, and you start, letting out a yell of fear, before fingers cover your mouth, muffling the sound and effectively silencing you.

“Calm down, baby. I’ll spare you.” The voice is low in your ear, and the feel of his lips brushing across your skin because of his closeness makes you shiver.

There is nothing except the sound of your panicked breathing whistling through his fingers, and then you hear fingers snap, and the light of a candle-though you can’t see it-breaks through the darkness and forms a wavy, dim pool of light around your feet.

“Now.” The man’s fingers twitch where they rest on your lips. “Will you be quiet if I release you?”

You manage a nod in his hold, and slowly-one by one-his long, old fingers drop from your mouth, and you are able to breathe once more.

The demon steps into the circle of light before you, black beating wings blocking out the light in a dreamlike way momentarily, and cocks his head as he looks at you, the curious look crossing his feline features making him look more cat than man in the moment.

“You seem to have had a rough go getting here.” The man wrinkles his nose slightly-and it would have been endearing in any other circumstance-as he takes in your disheveled appearance and now thoroughly destroyed sneakers. “Did the others not take care of you, baby?”

“Who are you?” You repeat again, pupils large and dark as you glance around at the endless blackness surrounding your small circle of light. A scream and shriek and then wailing has you trembling, as the sound of a loud whip crashes toward you through the dark.

“Min Yoongi.” The man reaches up to brush dark hair back from his forehead, black painted nails matching the night surrounding him. He waves a hand-almost boredly-at the pitch black surrounding you. “This is the sixth circle. Souls are sent here to endure the dark and torture for eternity. Fraudsters.” He takes a step toward you, caramel eyes gleaming. “Tricksters.” Another step. “Deceivers.” Another step, and you’re almost nose to nose once more, as his long, cool fingers come up to brush down the line of your cheekbone.

“And which one are you?” You ask, slightly breathless from his closeness, as you try to ignore the ever increasing sounds of suffering and torture echoing back at your through the nothing.

“A better question.” He smirks slightly, revealing pink gums and white teeth, as he reaches up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. “Is which aren’t I?”

You swallow hard, as he studies you for one moment longer, and then snaps his fingers close to your ear, the loud sudden sound making you jump.

“Anyway.” His features draw back into a bored expression, and he shoos you toward the sudden outline of the door behind you-light leaking between the cracks into the dark void you now stand in. “Better hurry up, baby. I’d love to play with you more.” He grins, plush lips disappearing in the dark. “But he’s waiting.”

The light from the candle suddenly goes out, leaving you in the pitch black once more, and you scramble toward the light outlining the doorway, and into the suddenly much safer dark on the other side.

CIRCLE VII-TREACHERY

Your sneakers slip on the ice beneath your feet as you try to gain your footing, and as you glance around, you see nothing but your own reflection in the pillars of ice and sharp, jagged glass that surrounds you.

Your features are sharp and pinched and anxious and not at all like yourself.

And suddenly, you feel fear, even before you hear the low rumblings of his voice echo through your head, bouncing off the slick, ice cold walls surrounding you.

“Why are you here?”

The question catches you off guard, and you try not to fall as you turn to face the demon-the last dark angel of the last circle-sitting on a throne of something that looks eerily similar to human bones.

Yet, just like his wings, you cannot look directly at the chair and tell what it is made of. Only out of the corners of your vision can you begin to see the shapes of ribs and skulls and femurs.

The man-his cheeks dimpling-offers you a humorless smile, as he waves a hand in your direction, tall lanky legs crossed carefully in front of him, slippered feet resting on the icy floor. “I’ll ask again. Why are you here?”

“I-” You stutter over your words, teeth chattering, as the sound of your voice lets a cloud of frozen breath out into the freezing air. “I don’t know.”

The man reaches to a side table, where an ornate goblet rests, and takes a sip of the liquid inside, letting it flow easily between his lips, as he looks at you over the rim. “You don’t remember anything?” He asks casually, setting down the goblet once more, and from the corner of your vision, the liquid looks thick and red and a little bit like the blood you had seen in Jimin’s circle.

“What?” You ask in sudden confusion, taking a careful step forward, as you try to find your footing on the icy tiles beneath your feet.

The man laughs-a short, humorless bark-and leans back slightly in the throne, feet crossing at his ankles, as he regards you with nothing more than cold curiousity from his perch. “Interesting.” He reaches out, twirling something that looks oddly like a human leg bone between his long nimble fingers. “Well then. Would you like to know why I’m here?”

You feel the breath leave your body at his words, and though your brain is screaming, you reply, “Yes.”

You are no shivering so hard that it is difficult to keep the beautiful man sitting before you in focus-his whole body now appearing as shimmery and nonexistent as his pair of black wings.

“My name is Namjoon.” The man pauses, studying you carefully, as if for a reaction, before continuing. “And I betrayed you.”

Your mouth falls open at his words-and suddenly, just a glimpse, a brief flash, of memory fills your mind-and suddenly, you know, only barely, in the back of your mind, that you know the man sitting before you, and you know him well.

“Come.” Namjoon stands from his relaxed position on the throne, and ushers you in the direction of a set of stairs. “I want to show you something.”

You carefully follow the tall man down the slippery, ice covered stairs, and as you walk deeper into the clutches of the frozen circle, the more you being to fear.

At first-as you pass the shards of glass like ice sticking up from the ground-you see nothing but your own face reflected back at you, and the face of the impassive Namjoon, beautiful and deadly and dangerous.

But then.

Then you begin to see memories reflected back to you-and you realize, with a harsh jolt-that they are your memories.

And they are dark, and they are deadly, and they are dangerous.

And when Namjoon comes to a sudden halt before you, you feel like you can’t breathe and that something is clawing away at you on the inside, as he turns to face you with dark, unsympathetic eyes.

“Do you remember now?” He asks in a scarily calm tone, and the feeling of losing air tightens even more around your chest, so much that you’re gasping at his feet.

“No, I didn’t-” You stutter out, clawing at your chest, suddenly feeling as if you’re made of ice as the cold wracks over your body in a wave. You look up at him desperately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Namjoon crouches before you, as your fingers feebly scrabble at the edge of his gown, as if he will help you.

But he won’t.

Because in this moment, there is nothing in his eyes beside burning, cold hatred and a sense of twisted satisfaction at your suffering.

“You see, (Y/N).” He reaches out and brushes a stray hair from your face, his fingers colder than the ice beneath your knees. “I betrayed you.” His handsome features darken, and his lips twist into a wicked line, as he waves a hand at the ice around you.

The ice that is now reflecting back at you-over and over, like plunging a knife deeper and deeper-the seven faces of the boys you had known and loved in life, the seven faces of the dark angels of the seven circles of hell.

Namjoon’s long finger goes beneath your chin and forces you to meet his gaze, and you feel as if you’re drowning in the dark pupils of his eyes, as his lips form the words you had never wanted to hear, “I betrayed you, but you betrayed all of us.”

“No!” You shriek out with the last breath that you can seem to pull into your lungs, and you try to move after Namjoon as he stands from beside you, but you are already frozen, the ice creeping over your dirty sneakers and up your legs even as you watch.

And Namjoon turns on his heel and leaves you-forever-with nothing but the echoing sound of your last scream and the faces of the seven boys you had betrayed.

58 notes · View notes

untaemedqueen · 5 years

Text

SaB Series

Werewolf!Taehyung x Mate!Reader

Chapter 5.

Warnings : Pregnant Smut, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Jungkook x Reader (Kind Of), Jerking Off (Jungkook), Lactation Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Werewolf!Tae, Werewolf!Jungkook

The forest was quiet as you step gingerly into the running stream, the water lapping at your ankles as you sigh at the refreshing feeling. You could hear running paws in the distance, a smile sneaking its way on to your face as you hold your eight month pregnant belly. The word gigantic could not even describe how big you were now. It was getting difficult to do almost everything and you still got up and fed the babies, made food for everyone and doing everything you could for the pack. Even though, they would consistently tell you not to and just rest. You were so grateful that Taehyung was home you didn't care about being tired or worn out. You could hear the howls of the pack getting closer to you as you sit on a large up-facing rock letting the water cool the skin of your feet. Your ankles were swollen and this really seemed to help.

“Aigo!” Taehyung yells loudly behind you as he puts on a pair of shorts. “Look at my princess.” He cries happily.

“You’re in a good mood!” You say with a laugh. He smirks as his bare feet enter the water.

“How could I not be when you’re glowing with my children inside you.” You laugh loudly throwing your head back as Taehyung wraps his arms around you. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck before sighing happily.

“The pups are on an all out war with Hoseok and Jin right now. They cry every time they’re held by them.” Taehyung whispers to you. You giggle as you watch the rest of the pack put on shorts that were left by a tree at the beginning of the forest. Jungkook looks over at you and waves with one arm as the other supports Baekhyeon.

“Kookie loves Baekhyeon so much.” You say with a smile, Taehyung hums in agreement as he rubs your belly.

“Shouldn’t you be laying in bed? I thought I told you to stay off your feet with these three troublemakers inside you.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes as he stares down at you.

“I just wanted to take a walk. I don’t like being bed ridden all the time.” Taehyung nods understandingly before looking towards your house.

“Shall we leave the pups with the guys for just a little while longer?” He asks playfully, you couldn’t say no to that face. You give him a nod before he whisks you off your feet. You gasp at the feeling before holding on to his neck.

“I thought with you being so pregnant you would get to go out and show it off but it’s not really like that, is it? You can barely walk anywhere.” You smack his shoulder before laughing making him smirk down at you as he takes confident strides towards your house.

“Do you think we had the babies too soon?” You ask him, he tilts his head and furrs his eyebrows in confusion.

“Too soon? Why do you say that, my love?” You purse your lips as you ponder the thought.

“I just mean... We can only have so many right? When do you think we’ll stop having babies?” Taehyung stops for a second and leans against a tree to his right as he contemplates the question.

“Hmm, I don't know. When is enough, enough is what you’re asking right?” You nod and he chuckles to himself.

“When my cock falls limp and can no longer get up.” He starts to walk again as you both laugh.

“You’re silly.” You mutter putting your head back as a breeze blows through the forest.

“You’re beautiful.” Taehyung counters before smiling down at you, his blue eyes boring holes into yours as he smiles widely.

"I was thinking lately that you've been neglecting me." You whisper to your mate, Taehyung stops before raising an eyebrow.

"Neglecting? Watch what you say baby. You might bruise the Alpha ego." You chuckle before pulling his neck down to yours.

"You've been neglecting my aching pussy, Alpha. I'm so big you can't handle me anymore?" You ask playfully before biting your lip. Taehyung growls at your words.

"Excuse me?" He asks setting you down on your swollen feet. You rub your belly in front of him before pouting.

"I'm such a big girl you can't handle me anymore, Alpha? Is that what's wrong?" Taehyung bites his lip looking you over, the way your shirt rides up from being too small letting Taehyung peak at your engorged skin and black veins. The way your breasts strain against the fabric of the maroon short sleeve top begging to be let free.

"You're saying things that hold a lot of weight to them. Continue like that and you're getting fucked in this forest, you dirty little thing. I’ve been trying to be polite since you have all these pups in you." Taehyung growls lowly as you raise the hem of your shirt farther up letting your swollen belly button peak out. He groans biting his lip harder as his hand grazes over his shorts. The cool breeze of the day whistles through the forest reminding you where you are.

"And if I said I want you to have me here?" You ask beginning to feel playful. You always want him in you, around you, everything to do with him. So it comes as no surprise to you as the words that leave your mouth turn you on as well.

"I'd say its irresponsible to put our pups inside in such a precarious situation." Taehyung whispers walking towards you, his muscles flexing and jutting through his tan skin with every step. You count your blessing everyday that this man was yours and yours alone. His hands reach out for your big belly. He rubs in sensuous circles as he presses his lower stomach to yours. Taehyung looks around before spotting a fallen tree a few feet away.

"Take this shirt off." He tugs at your maroon shirt and you oblige. His mouth watering as he is faced with a lacy pink bra, your milk laden tits sagging against the fabric as your nipples begin to bead with milk as they hit the cooler air.

"You wanted to get fucked out here, didn't you bitch?" Taehyung asks. His thumbs gliding over your pert areolas. You mewl for him as he undoes your bra.

"What if someone comes out and sees?" You ask coming to your senses.

"Then they'll get a show." Taehyung tugs your arm as you walk in tandem towards the tree stump.

"Sit down and suck on my cock like the good mommy you are." Taehyung reaches behind your back undoing your bra, watching them bounce to freedom. He licks his lips hungrily as you sit on the tree stump. Your legs opening slightly to accommodate the three growing babies inside you.

"Such a pregnant minx." Taehyung murmurs taking your nipples in between his fingers and rolling them watching as milk squirts out onto his tan legs. A shiver runs down his spine as you grip the elastic band of his shorts before pulling them down. His angry red cock greeting your eyes as it spews precum.

"Alpha." You whisper before tonguing a circle around the head of his cock and bobbing your head down.

"Good girl." Taehyung moans loudly, his moans ricocheting off the trees as echos envelope the forest. Someone will hear you fucking, whether it be Taehyung's pack or another and it makes him excited.

"My pregnant little cum slut dying to be fucked while my pups lay in waiting to be born." He caresses your cheek as you hollow your cheeks out before going back down on him giving flat licks to the base of his cock. You moan as he begins to milk you once more. Your milk dripping down onto your belly as your pussy becomes drenched with desire for your mate.

"I'm going to bed you over this tree and fuck you like the little pregnant slut you are, wouldn't you like that?" Taehyung asks as you feel a constant pulsing of desire in your now swollen cunt. You moan in agreement to his words as you begin to massage his balls. Taehyung's head lulls back as you suck him to the base. You've gotten so good at sucking his cock you know exactly what he wants and when he wants it.

"What a good little cum slut you are." Taehyung praises you as you place your hand under your belly to support yourself. Taehyung notices this and pulls himself out of your mouth.

"Heavy?" He asks crouching taking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking your areola before suckling for his pups milk. His hands fall under your belly holding up the engorged skin. He growls against you as he relishes in the taste. You moan putting your head back, a breeze blowing your hair wildly in the wind. Taehyung pulls away only to lavish at your other breast. His fingers finding their way underneath your short in the front, long in the back black skirt.

“Even in this forest, with all these smells around I can still smell how soaked you are for me.” Taehyung murmurs against your skin, your chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly from panting.

“Taehyung.” You moan out as his fingers glide over your damp grey boyshorts. “Sexy little pregnant thing.” He mumbles pulling away from you.

“Lift.” He tells you hooking his fingers into the sides of your underwear. You do as told, the cold breeze making you gasp as your wet pussy meet the air.

“Look at how humongous you are. How swollen with my children you are. You are gorgeous.” He holds his hands out to help you up, you get to your feet and he twirls his index finger.

“Turn for me, baby.” Taehyung lifts up your skirt watching how your thighs and ass muscles flex as you bend over the tree stump, your fingers clutching at the knots of the tree.

“It’s almost inhumane how fucking good you look impregnated.” You bite your lip in anticipation as you wait for him, your pussy high up in the air waiting to be demolished by your mate. Taehyung takes his time, crouching down behind you naked before running a flat lick over your cunt. He moans against you tasting your salty, musky fluids.

“You want to be fucked?” Taehyung asks fingering at your swollen clit, you whimper out giving him a ‘Yes.’

“How badly do you want me to fuck this aching cunt?” He asks lowly, his voice dripping with lust as he peers through your legs at your dissented stomach. He watches as you shift on your hands, your belly swaying with your every movement.

“I want you to fuck me so badly, I want to feel you in my pregnant pussy!” You beg making him smirk.

“Good girl.” An arm snakes around you as he stands rubbing your belly, his fingers gripping at the skin as he readies himself behind you.

“You’re so short.” Taehyung says with a laugh before effortlessly picking you up by your hips taking you off your feet. Your arms scream out in pain as you hold the front of your weight.

“Tae, I don’t think I can-” He looks over and notices how strained your small arms are before sighing and setting you down.

“Okay.” He whispers before looking around his forest and thinking. He spots a large tree close by. He turns you around before hooking his hands underneath your ass and hauling you upwards. You wrap your legs around his waist and he arches his back watching out for the belly. He walks over confidently towards the large tree, your back suddenly meeting the rough bark.

“I can’t wait any longer.” He whispers as the top of your back and shoulders rely on the tree as he pulls away slightly.

“Fuck me! Please!” You beg him feeling your arousal drip down your thighs. He gives you a feral smile before grasps his cock underneath you. He aligns the thick head to your opening before his eyes harden over.

“Sexy little fucking cum bucket you are. So willing to fuck me when you’re about to give birth. You’re such a dirty little girl.” You moan loudly as he enters you to the hilt. His pubic bone smacking into your clit with a growl.

“I love when you fuck me!” Taehyung smirks as you grip at his shoulders.

“You do? You love it?” He counters pulling out of you and snapping his hips in hard making your back scrape against the bark of the tree. You close your eyes at both the pain and the pleasure.

“Yes!” Taehyung minds your belly as he folds your legs up higher. The bottom of your pregnant belly bumping upward with each thrust. It wasn't the most comfortable position but Taehyung knew you were enjoying it just with the moans you were eliciting for him.

"You're so nice and big for me. Walking around in this forest with my children making you heavy." Taehyung's hands clutch at the cheeks of your ass as he rams into you, your nails digging into his skin as you hold on to him for dear life.

"Such a tight, wet cunt all for me." With every thrust you feel the head of his cock brushing against that pleasurable spot making your body shake with pleasure.

"Tell me what you love." Taehyung whispers, his bottom lip disappearing into his mouth as he watches beads of milk drip from your nipples coating your massive belly.

"I-I love when you destroy my pussy. I love how big I am and how you want to fuck more babies into me all the time!"

"I bet you do, you love walking around with my pups inside you, letting it known that you have a man who keeps you so well plugged." Your eyes roll back as he fucks you quicker, your breasts heaving upwards as Taehyung groans loudly. You can hear howls from deep within the forest making Taehyung stop thrusting.

"I think we have an audience." He whispers, you look around before seeing a bush shake. Taehyung chuckles before pulling out of you, his large cock visibly pulsing as he sets you onto your feet. You watch biting your lip at how your pussy juices run over his balls and drip towards the ground. Taehyung snarls loudly at the bush, his canines dropping as his body begins to shake with feral fervor You've never seen this before but you can't say you weren't turned on by it.

"Then get out here if you're going to be a nuisance!" Taehyung yells towards the bush. Jungkook emerges from the bush sheepishly in his shorts, his lust laden eyes roaming over your pregnant body. Taehyung strokes at his cock.

"Stay or don't stay. I'll be having my woman anyway." He calls to Kookie as he pulls you into a kiss, you push against his chest embarrassed as his fingers graze your soaked thighs.

"Let the kid watch.” He whispers against your lips. You look over at Jungkook who leans against a tree, his face a pinkish color as he watches Taehyung rub his hands over your belly. Taehyung sits down on a large rock near him pulling your hand.

“Come here.” Taehyung says calling Jungkook forward. You watch as Jungkook’s abs flex and contort against his skin as he does as he’s told. Taehyung pulls you by your hips over his legs as you look him in the eyes. He gives you a small smile before stroking his cock.

“It’s okay, baby. Pretend like Kookie isn’t even here.” Taehyung’s fingers begin to make small circles over your clit and you can’t help but moan for him.

“Good girl.” He praises you as he pulls you closer to him, your belly smacking into his chest.

“Sit on my cock.” He aligns the thick head of his cock to your entrance once more. You sit down on him, your head falling back as you let out a sob of pleasure.

“Ride me, baby. Please me.” Taehyung whispers leaning forward and giving small kisses all over your chest and belly. You begin to ride him, his cock shuttering within you as you both let out moans for each other.

“Fuck!” Taehyung moans gripping at your sides. “Isn’t she such a sexy pregnant thing.” Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and you whimper out as Taehyung rubs your clit with his thumb.

“So fucking full of my cock and my children. Tell Jungkook how much you love my babies in you.” Taehyung gives small licks at your belly as you bounce on him.

“I love when he fucks his babies into me! I love feeling so big with him babies.” You moan out not meeting eyes with Jungkook.

“Shit.” Jungkook curses, his shorts betraying him as his erection reaches its full mast.

“I love when I walk around and can’t see my feet, only Taehyung’s babies.” Taehyung growls at your words as he feels his balls tightening.

“You love it, don’t you my girl? You love when I fuck your aching cunt, feeling my hot cum drip inside you.” Your moans beginning to get louder as the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaches.

“How does she look, Kook?” Taehyung asks trying to keep his oncoming orgasm at bay. Jungkook blushes as you look over at him.

“Noona, looks beautiful so pregnant all the time. It makes me want to blow a load.” Jungkook admits making Taehyung chuckle.

“See, baby. You drive men crazy with that belly of yours.” The feeling of foreign eyes watching you as you ride Taehyung makes you hornier, it was a new feeling you couldn’t help but love. You begin to squeeze your nipples, milking them for your audience making Taehyung groan loudly.

“Just like that baby, show Jungkook what a good fucking mommy you are.” You whimper out as your legs get tired. Your riding beginning to stagger. Taehyung thanks you mentally as he was about to blow his load.

“Why doesn’t Jungkook hold you up while I fuck you? How does that sound?” Jungkook goes wide-eyed at Taehyung.

“I-I can?” You could hear the hopefulness in his voice. Taehyung brushes some hair off your sweaty forehead.

“Can he, baby? It’s up to you, mommy.” Taehyung responds before sucking some milk from your tits. He moans at the taste as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Okay.” You whisper feeling confident in front of Jungkook. You stand up, Taehyung’s hands helping you out as your legs feel wobbly. Jungkook swallows before approaching.

“This is a one time thing, Kook. Don’t get your hopes up.” Taehyung tells his pack member. Jungkook nods earnestly before smiling at you. You smile back at him as Taehyung stands.

“Doesn’t he look just like a baby?” Taehyung asks ruffling Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook’s face sours as Taehyung talks about him in such a way.

“Should he feed at your breast like a baby?” You look over at Jungkook whose brow unfurrows before smiling.

“I’d love to.” He growls, he advances at you before Taehyung’s hand presses firmly on Kook’s chest.

“One time thing.” He reminds him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook mumbles shoving Taehyung’s hand out of the way. Jungkook sniffs your chest before growling loudly.

“Your milk smells so sweet.” His full lips encase your nipple and you bite your lip trying not to moan at the unfamiliar feeling. The way Kookie’s tongue caresses your nipple as his lips tug at your areola make you feel weak.

“You can moan baby, it’s okay.” Taehyung whispers crouching down. He knew you were his and his only, a simple suckle of your milk by his own pack member couldn’t change that. You moan loudly as Taehyung begins to tongue as your pussy from behind you, your cunt fluid seeming over his chin and down his cheeks as his tongue prods at your clit.

“Oh my God!” You moan as Jungkook’s warm hands caress your large belly. Jungkook growls loudly as he drinks your milk. His free hand milking your other nipple as he closes his eyes. Taehyung pulls away two fingers pumping into your cunt from behind as he watches Jungkook love on you. Taehyung’s wolf begins to get protective seeing how he rubs at your belly so lovingly.

“Back off.” Taehyung barks out fingering at your g-spot, his wolf calming down as you moan his name. Jungkook whimpers gently as he pulls away from you.

“Hold her up.” Taehyung mumbles pulling his fingers from you before licking them clean. Jungkook steps behind you hoisting you up effortlessly as he presses his back against a tree.

“Look at how her cunt drips for me.” Taehyung tells Jungkook as the forest floor’s dry dirt is now dark brown from your wetness.

“Such a horny little minx.” Jungkook replies making Taehyung chuckle.

“Hold her steady. She wriggles a lot.” Taehyung whispers before leaning in and kissing you. You moan into the kiss as he enters you. The feeling of Jungkooks arms under your knees as he holds you up makes you hornier than before.

“Take his cock out for him.” You tell Taehyung, Taehyung stills inside you as he tilts his head.

“What?” He asks, “I want to feel his cock on my ass.” You whimper out putting your head back into the crook of Jungkook’s neck. Taehyung lets out a throaty laugh before ripping Jungkook’s shorts from his body.

“Happy? You pregnant little minx?” You bite your lip as Taehyung begins to forcefully fuck you. Jungkook’s hands gripping tighter at your legs as he spreads them wider for Tae. The head of Jungkook’s cock begins to prod at your asshole making you whimper.

“Look at how this belly looks while I fuck you.” Taehyung tells you as he rubs your belly. His fingers dancing over the black veins as he bites his bottom lip.

“I love it when you fuck my pussy!” You call out to him, moaning all the while. You can hear Jungkook’s heavy breathing in your ear driving you mad. His fingertips digging into your skin deeper as your thigh muscles begin to scream.

“Milk her titties, hyung. I want to see her milk.” Jungkook whispers, not knowing if he should add his thoughts to his Alpha’s sexual experience.

“I should, shouldn’t I? Milk it all out of her and watch her titties begin to make more milk for my pups.” He rolls your nipples between his fingertips making you moan loudly as streams of milk shoot out towards his chest.

“Good girl. You know how to please me so.” Taehyung whispers as he continues hi unrelenting fucking. You turn your head, your tongue peaking out as you take Jungkook’s ear lobe in between your teeth.

“Noona!” Jungkook moans loudly as you graze the tip of your tongue over his lobe.

“Isn’t she so ready to please, Kook?” “Can I stroke his cock?” You ask your mate, Taehyung growls loudly as his hands begin to caress your bump once more. He closes his eyes in pleasure as each thrust begins to smack into your cervix opening.

“Go ahead.” He whispers gripping at your belly flesh. You reach under you taking Jungkook’s cock into your hand and pumping it.

“Oh my God!” Jungkook moans throwing his head back against the tree.

“You got so lucky today, didn’t you Kookie? All because this pregnant little bitch decided to ask Alpha for his big cock.” You practically sob as Taehyung gathers your juices onto his thumb and rubbing your clit.

“I want you to cum all over my cock. Show Jungkook who’s pregnant pussy this is. Cream all over me baby.” You moan jerking Jungkook off faster.

“Oh! Noona! I’m going to cum if you keep doing that!” Jungkook moans for you. Taehyung growls loudly slamming into you repeatedly as he feels your cunt beginning to pulse around him.

“Tell me how much you love my cock.” Taehyung barks out to you. Your head swimming with all different emotions as you look into your mates eyes.

“I love how big and thick your cock is! I love when you batter my pregnant cunt to no end! I want to give birth just so you get me pregnant again!” You moan lowly as Jungkook’s nails cut into your skin as he grips your legs for dear life.

“I can feel you wanting to cum for me. You pregnant little bitch, you’re going to cream on my cock, aren’t you? Show Kookie how badly you want more pups in your womb.” Your moans turning louder as your stomach tightens, whimpers emitting from Jungkook as you rub your thumb over the head of his cock.

“Noona.” Jungkook whispers wantonly, his cock beginning to pulse in your palm. Taehyung’s eyes roll back as he feels his balls tighten.

“Such a pretty little pregnant slut. Milking me of my cum. Milk me dry, baby girl. Milk me.” Taehyung whispers as a sheen sweat envelopes his body.

“I’m going to cum!” You whine loudly, tears spilling over your cheeks as you grit your teeth.

“Cum for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock.” You give off one final moan, moaning Taehyung’s name as you cum around him. Your cunt squirting your cream all over Taehyung’s stomach and legs.

“Fuck, yes. Good girl! Milk me baby!” Taehyung praises you as your vision goes white. Your hand stutters pumping Jungkook.

“Noona, I’m cumming. Fuck, keep going!” You pump Jungkook’s cock quicker as he barks out. A low snarl releasing from his lips as your ass begins to get coated in his cum.

“Oh shit!” Jungkook curses sagging against the tree.

“Hold her up!” Taehyung barks out as he grips at your hips.

“I want these pups out. I want more inside you.” Taehyung moans as his cock begins to pulse.

“I’m so close, baby.” Taehyung alerts you. You gasp for air as you watch him bulldoze his cock inside you, your cervix beginning to ache as you come down from your own high.

“I want you to cum all over my womb. I want to feel you cumming for me and my big belly.” Taehyung growls loudly, the noise echoing through the forest. You begin to tweak your nipples for him, your milk mixing with your cum on his stomach.

“Fuck!” Taehyung yells as he orgasms, he moans loudly as ropes of his cum fill your womb and pussy.

“Such a sexy bitch you are.” Taehyung caresses your cheek as his knot inflates. Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as you press yourself fully into him. He nuzzles at your cheek and Taehyung growls.

“Watch it, Kook. She isn’t yours.” Jungkook nods meekly before kissing your temple.

“Thank you, noona.” You give him a tired thumbs up making him chuckle. Taehyung’s knot inflates fully as the three of you stand in the forest.

“Wow!” You hear Jimin call from the tree line. All three heads whipping over to look at him. He stands there with his cock in hand, his cum dripping over his knuckles. Jungkook laughs loudly throwing his head back against the tree. Taehyung snorts as he rubs your belly.

“Fun?” He calls to Jimin. Jimin nods happily before looking you over and smirking.

“Y/N. You’re beautiful, by the way!” Jimin gives you a thumbs up before wiping his hand with his shorts and walking back towards the shared house. You look over at Taehyung embarrassed.

“No worries baby, he’s already seen you naked. Remember?” Referencing the pups births. You nod before groaning at his knot.

“Just a bit longer and then I’ll take you home for a nice bath.” He looks over at Jungkook as Jungkook cleans your ass with his ripped shorts.

“You can let her go. I got it.” Taehyung holds you up with ease as Jungkook sneaks away from you both.

“Catch you later, Noona. Hyung.” Jungkook walks away and you look over at Taehyung with a giggle. Taehyung bends down and kisses your large belly before starting to walk towards your home.

“I had so many plans for today but nothing like that.” Taehyung says stepping over strewn branches and leaves. You look up at him as he rubs your back.

“Like what?” You ask tilting your head tiredly.

“You’ll see.” He whispers looking down at his shorts pocket and looking at the small box that was jutting out of the fabric.

“Now I’m curious.” You say with a giggle as you close your eyes tiredly. Taehyung looks you over before laughing.

“Don’t be curious. Just let things plays out, you’ll find out eventually.” You were his in every way already and he knew this but that box in his pants solidifies everything.

“You’ll see.” He whispers as your house appears in view.

#silver and blue #Werewolf!AU #werewolf!taehyung #bts werewolf au #jeongguk x reader #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #jungkook x you #bts story #bts series #bts imagine #pregnancy kink #pregnant smut

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twinklecheeks · 4 years

Text

Friends With Benefits (Jeff Wittek Imagine) Part 9

Summary: Jeff and Y/N have been hooking up for a while. The whole vlog squad assumes they’re dating and Y/N does too but Jeff doesn’t like labels. He eventually starts to express interest in Natalie.

Note: Planning on making this a multiple part series, depending on how good it does. You’re 21 & Latina in this (maybe) series. Also, I’d like to apologize for the typos, if there are any. I’m just illiterate lmao.

Warnings! Pregnancy, PURE FILTH, KINKY AS SHIT, I SWEAR THIS MESS IS NASTY, NSFW. I’m being SERIOUS. Most of this chapter is sex.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Word Count: 1.7k

Jeff’s Birthday 12/15/19

David: *Vlogging* Everybody get in the room quietly

Zane & Toddy: *has buckets of ice water*

Everybody: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JEFF. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

Jeff: *under his blanket and pillows* Guys. I’m old now. Let me sleeep.

Zane: Wakey wakey baby

Toddy & Zane: *throws the ice water on Jeff*

Jeff: WHHAT THE FUCK

*Everybody runs out of the room laughing*

Jeff: So now that I’m awake, are we all gonna snowboard today?

Y/n: I can’t, so I’m just gonna stay here.

Carly: Erin, Corinna and I will stay back with her.

Y/n: Great, people are feeling sorry for the pregnant girl.

Corinna: Not true. I also hate the cold and I don’t wanna fall down a hill.

Jeff: Okay cool. We’re gonna leave in 20 and y/n, call me if anything happens.

Night time

David: I know we already sung it this morning but-

Everybody: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JEFF. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.

Jeff: I just like to say thank you so much guys. I know that I’ve been such an asshole the past couple weeks but now that I’m 30 and we’re entering a new decade in like two or so weeks, I want to make things right and also I’m going to be a father to two little girls. Y/n I know of personally apologize to you already but I just wanna say in front of everybody here. I am so sorry for everything I have done to you. I will admit, I am scared to become a dad, I will protect you and the girls with my life. And thanks to everybody that came here. This friend group has changed my life for the better.

Zane: Can we stop with this sappy shit and eat some caaake.

David: *vlogging* VARDON THROW THE CAKE

Jeff: wait what

Vardon: *throws the cake*

Jeff: *dodges the cake*

*little cake fight happens in the kitchen*

David: hey y/n, can I talk to you?

Y/n: Sure..

David: I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. After hearing what Jeff said and the way you looked at him, I’m guessing you’re still probably in love w/ him.

Y/n: ummm…

David: I don’t blame you. He is the father of your kids and he most likely still has feelings for you too. Can we just move on and be friends again?

Y/n: I’d like that very much.

*after Jeff gets cleaned up*

Jeff: What did David say to you?

Y/n: that he wanted to move on and be friends again. So now, I’m officially single.

Jeff: So does that mean I can win you back?

Y/n: woah woah woah, slow down there Wittek. You're still on a trial run.

Jeff: Is there anything I can do on this trial run to make me a lifetime member?

Y/n: *getting horny* Maybe… I mean, technically you’re already a lifetime member. I’m pregnant w/ your kids.

Jeff: Sooo… I’m not crossing any lines if I do this? *pushes y/n down gently on the bed and hovers over her*

Y/n: Ummmm….. no.

Jeff: I bet your tits have gotten a lot bigger since I saw them last. I’ll only continue if you’re okay with this

Y/n: *smiling shyly* Oh gosh yes. Please continue

Jeff: *takes off y/n’s shirt* Wow, no bra? Were you planning this? *smirks*

Y/n: No but this better fucking happen because I’m gonna beat you if it doesn’t. My tits have gotten so sore since I got pregnant.

Jeff: *sucks of the right nipple and massages the left* Mmm, they taste sweeter from what I remember.

Y/n: *moans* Mmmm.. fuuuck. Daddy you can suck on my tits all you want.

Jeff: *laughs* Daddy? Someone’s got a daddy kink now?

Y/n: Oh shut up. Let’s be honest, you had a breeding kink before because you always loved cumming inside me before I got pregnant.

Jeff: touché… and I still will cum inside you at the end. I like to finish what I started babe *winks*

Y/n: You kinky whore.

*pulls Jeff in for a needy kiss*

Jeff: *takes off your leggings* Damn babe no underwear too? You were definitely planning this.

Y/n: *getting impatient* Jeff please eat me out.

Jeff: No problem. *kisses his way down to your pussy and his warm tongue licks from your entrance up to your clit.*

Y/n: Oh my god pleease don’t tease me Jeff.

Jeff: Anything for my queen *slowly circles his tongue around your clit* I love how you were always wet for me. *eats you out*

Y/n: *cries out in pleasure* I’m trying so hard not to cum so early.

Jeff: Cum anytime you want baby.

Y/n: Oh GOD I’M CUMMING.

Jeff: *fingers her and sucks on clit*

Y/n: *trembling* mmm I feel like I’m still cumming.

Jeff: You ready?

Y/n: *smirks* I’m always ready for you.

Jeff: You’re making it hard to be gentle w/ you cause I wanna fuck you so damn rough, but I don’t want to hurt you. And you also won’t be able to walk normally..

Y/n: And who says I want it gentle? *winks*

Jeff: You’re gonna be the death of me doll.

Y/n: *gets on her knees & unzips his pants* I’ve missed your cock so much daddy. *You suck the pre-cum* It’s bigger than I remember.

Jeff: You’re daddy’s little pregnant whore aren’t you?

Y/n: I’ll always be your whore, cum slut, doll, you name it. *licks from the base of his cock to the tip* No one can suck like I can. *You hollow your cheeks so you can suck off as much as you can. His cock hits the back out your throat; you start to deepthroat Jeff*

Jeff: *grabs y/n’s hair & bucks his hips* Only daddy can fuck your mouth, cum inside you and get you pregnant, you got that?

Y/n: Of course. I’ll always take your cum.

Jeff: Get on the bed. On all fours.

Y/n: *Gets on the bed* Just fuck me rough daddy.

Jeff: *slams cock into y/n, gives her a bit to adjust* What’d say doll? *slams it into her again*

Y/n: Jesus fuck. I’ve missed you so much. No one can fuck me like you can.

Jeff: I remember you liked it when daddy fucked your ass doll. Remember?

Y/n: *trembling* Please fuck my ass and then my pussy*

Jeff: *slowly pushes cock into her* FUCK. Shit I almost feel like cumming rn.

Y/n: Fuuuuck me- too. SHIT oh MY UGH. I haven’t done anal in so long.

Jeff: *goes faster* oh fuckk… Your ass feels so amazing.

Y/n: *being a moaning mess* Cum inside my ass Jeff!

Jeff: Don’t worry doll. I’ll cum in both. *goes faster* Fucking SHIT. Sss-o ttight *cums inside y/n*

Y/n: *screams into pillow* SHIT SHIT SHIT IM CUMMING.

Jeff: *Quickly pulls out of ass and fucks her pussy* I’m still rock hard for you baby

Y/n: *Has 3rd orgasm right after the 2nd* Jefff!

Jeff: *cums inside her* Jesus.

*both are sweaty messes wrapped in the blanket*

Y/n: *cuddles with Jeff* Well that was-

Jeff: Kinky-er than usual. I didn’t think I liked to be called daddy.

Y/n: *laughing* Oh god don’t remind me.

Jeff: I’m gonna take a shower, wanna join?

Y/n: What, so you can make me cum for a 4th time tonight?

Jeff: No you little nasty. We’re sweaty and gross. We gotta wash off our sins.

Y/n: *gets out of bed and tries to stand up*

Jeff: I told you you won’t be able to walk.

Y/n: Oh shut up and help me.

The next morning

Y/n & Jeff: *wakes up at y/n’s phone ringing*

Y/n: It’s my doctor. *picks up the phone and puts it on speaker*

Doctor: Good morning y/n, how are you feeling?

Y/n: I’m feeling great.

Doctor: Well that’s good. Is there time for you and Jeff to come by my office today?

Y/n: *confused* Umm no. We’re out of town and won’t be home for another 2-3 days. Is there something wrong? You can just tell it to us over the phone.

Doctor: Well… Okay. The only thing that came up in both of your test results was that you and Jeff are carriers of a mutation of the GJB2 gene. Normally, that gene has a protein that plays an important role in the development of the cochlea, which is in our ears.

Jeff: Can you please get to the point.

Doctor: So because you both are carriers of the mutation of the gene, there’s a chance that one or both of your girls will be born partially or completely deaf.

Y/n: Wh-what?

Jeff: Is there no way in knowing if they are beforehand?

Doctor: The only way in knowing is doing a hearing test on both girls when they’re born. If one or both are born deaf, there’s options like the cochlear implant. I’ve seen this used on babies as young as 5-6 months old but that’s in the UK. Here in the states, babies would have to be at least a year old. Just remember that I’m saying there’s a CHANCE. I’m not saying that they will be born deaf.

Y/n: Ooo-kay. Th-thanks for calling. *Hangs up the phone* D-deaf? Our girls are gonna be born deaf?

Jeff: *holds y/n* Hey hey hey, she said there’s a chance. Since there’s a chance, we gotta be prepared. We gotta do our research and see what the best options are. We might also have to learn sign language and also teach them. Y/n I know you’re terrified and I am too but we have to look at the bright side.

Y/n: And that is?

Jeff: That we’re gonna have 2 beautiful baby girls.

Y/n: *smiles weakly* Should we tell the rest of them?

Jeff: Let’s wait a bit until we tell them.

Y/n: Okay.

Ummm… Yeah so that happened… Don’t say I didn’t warn y’all in the last chapter. Jeff is really stepping up after only a few days. What do y’all think of my little plot twist at the end? Also, Jeff still hasn’t told his parents! How do you think they’ll react.

Comment if you want to be on the taglist!

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the-darklings · 5 years

Text

—𝒊 𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆;

pairing: john wick x f!reader x santino d’antonio

word count: 16k + 1-word

summary: And then stillness.

warnings: swearing, STRONG violence, angst.

notes: no long introduction this time. I’ve missed you all. Love you and I’m eternally grateful for your support and patience as always. Enjoy!

children of ares series: 01 | .... | 08 | 09 | . . | 11 |

gif credit (x)

“I have no intention of sitting around and waiting for them to attack again.”

Ares’ eyes slide from you to Santino who sits behind the extravagant breakfast table. He must have felt like eating out on the terrace despite the chilly temperature outside. The warmth of the sun is the only reason this frigid wind is bearable.

For a man who often complains about cold weather, he seems fine making exceptions whenever it suits him.

But there’s an edge about him today that’s impossible to miss.

He seems distant. Like something is preoccupying all of his thoughts, and you know that you are likely the cause of it.

Last night sits between you like a ravine and it’s unsettling.

You know what he must have felt seeing that ring. But it’s so hard to properly articulate what it means to you. John has always meant so much to you, and his present was the first you received after your parents’ murder. Certainly the first of such value. It has always mattered more than you could ever put into words. In truth, it’s always been about more than just your feelings for him.

Back when he first left, that ring had been the only thing you had left of him. You had no photographs, no voicemail messages, no notes, nothing. One day, John had been everything, and then he up and vanished like smoke.

You had clung to that ring like a tightrope for weeks. Your only emotional anchor as you tried to nurse your broken spirit back together.

Years later, it’s still important. Even if it now represents something different to you.

Santino says nothing in reply to your curt statement, lifting a glass of rich, red wine to his lips as his attention stays on the New York skyline. He doesn’t look angry; not in the way he often does, at least. That burning flame that rages on and on. This is something else. This is an eerie reminder of that night when he came to you after finding out he’s been made the Spare.

Seeing this stings more.

You woke up after sixteen hours of sleep to a silent penthouse that had set off every alarm bell ringing inside your head. By the time you tracked him down, Santino was already enjoying late breakfast—calm and collected as ever—and not at all like he’s been marked by the Dragon itself. Like he wasn’t currently hunted by the High Table’s henchmen and two psychopaths.

Normally, you might have written it off as arrogance. Since with him, it often is.

Santino is still Camorra. He’s grown up believing himself to be untouchable. But not entirely. Camorra has been its own cage too. A tight, suffocating cage. He’s told you as such. There has never been a choice, not for him. He was born into his role. Either you learn to make it work or—

Or.

There’s only one escape from a life like yours.

You shift in your seat, toying with your glass of juice absently.

Ares picked up on the tension between you almost immediately, and you hadn't missed her curious, pointed stares in your direction. For another few minutes, you sit in uncomfortable silence.

He invited you to join him as always. But you can’t help and wonder if—for the first time ever—he’s done so more out of politeness as opposed to a genuine desire for your company.

That thought stings more.

But you also know how much it hurt to see that ring.

“My men have searched the city,” he finally speaks, serious and smooth, and his light green eyes find your own. You exhale softly when your eyes connect, the weight of it an almost physical touch. Something shimmers deep in their depths; something that coils your stomach into knots as you fight to keep your expression straight. He simply gazes at you over his glass of wine, searching for something. “They haven’t found them, amore.”

He practically purrs the endearment and you break the eye contact between you.

“No offence to your men,” you remark promptly, feeling unsettled. “But they don’t know this city well. But I know individuals who do.”

“Hmm, you want to involve someone else now, is that it?”

You don’t like the tone of his voice. The bite of finely laced irritation woven into his low baritone. This is not like last night. What he had demanded then had been too much.

John—

Perhaps that’s exactly the problem. John, as always, stands between you. He always has, and in more ways than one.

“I may be proud,” you start, and there is something equally as tart in your own voice. “But not to a point of stupidity. If I need help, I don’t find it beneath me to ask for it.”

A jab. A fully intended and purposeful jab at his ceaseless pride. That damned D’Antonio pride he always fails to contain. Just like his father. You can’t help but wonder how he would take it—if you told him as such. If he would take the comparison as praise or an insult.

Santino doesn’t bite though. His expression remains cool, composed. He’s heard—has been called many times—far worse.

“Wise words, cara mia. Bravo.”

The air between you practically crackles.

Ares leans her chin against her palm, her eyes sliding back and forth between you with feline grace. She looks caught between amusement and exasperation.

He doesn’t say anything else and the gust of wind disturbs the table cloth, making the cups tremble in their saucers. His stare burns that vivid colour that hides everything and nothing and you exhale forcefully.

“Fine,” you declare tightly, rising to your feet. “Keep searching and I’ll be back by the evening. She’s too injured for them to run now, and from what I’ve heard it’s not their style either.”

No, the Lovers with their lovely faces and terrible fury are known for making a sport out of hunting their opponents. They are the type to obsess until the subject of that obsession is left in tatters. Usually—if the stories about them are to be believed—that’s all that’s left.

“Take Ares with you.”

Not an order but it’s a close thing.

You feel yourself bristle.

“I need to handle this alone,” you bite out when your eyes clash, and the heat between you is almost tangible even with the freezing nip of the wind. “This particular individual doesn’t like strangers.”

But Santino doesn’t drop it so easily.

“You were attacked yesterday. Injured.”

He blinks, but you don’t miss how his voice catches on the last word. How his composure cracks just so. It softens your heart a touch—just a bit—because you imagine what he would have felt, hearing that information. An ambush. Multiple dead. The destruction it wrought.

He was frenzied with worry yesterday. Perhaps the most undone you have seen him in a long, long while.

“And I’m fine,” you stress because you have to because he needs to hear it even if he doesn’t believe it yet. “The longer we delay, the more time we’re giving them to retaliate. To plan.”

You’re right and you know it, and he knows it too. Which is the only reason why his expression relaxes after another few beats of tense silence. Ares is still watching you both, silent but observant as always, though her eyes almost sparkle with a knowing light.

His gaze drops and he lowers his glass of wine back onto the table.

“Very well,” he murmurs and rises to his feet as well. “Let me walk you to the door, at least.”

You try, and fail, to mask your surprise. He’s not a servant. He’s the owner of this space. It’s considered an honour by Camorra’s standards. If anyone in the ruling family greets you at the door or sees to your departure. It marks one as an esteemed and valued guest.

Your eyes flicker towards Ares for a second but the other woman is already looking in your direction. You see her trying to smother a grin at your palpable surprise. She stretches in the sun and shoots you a wink as Santino passes you, lingering until you join his side.

You leave the chilly terrace together, trail downstairs, walking wordlessly all the while. Silence never fails to be jarring when it comes from him. You’re used to the lull of conversation that always flows between you, regardless of the severity of it. Which only leaves you to wonder—yet again—how much damage yesterday’s discovery might have caused.

A part of you is determined to wait for him to speak first because he always does, but this time it’s different. His gait is poised and self-assured, but his shoulders are curved in a stiffer line than usual. One that betrays him; his restlessness, his lingering anger.

Your resolve to wait lasts until you exit the apartment. But when he starts walking down the hallway towards the elevator, you realise that he has no intention of speaking with you at all.

“Santino?”

He pauses. Now only a few steps away from the elevator and turns to glance at you over his shoulder. You haven’t realised you stopped till the distance between you becomes apparent.

“I know what you must be thinking,” you whisper, even though your words sound strangled. You don’t know what he’s thinking, not really, but you can guess. “I wear that ring because it matters to me. I wear the only two presents I’ve ever accepted because they mean so much to me.”

They mean everything. Even if he doesn’t realise it.

You move towards him, one cautious step at the time. His own expression is hard, and his eyes examine you from beneath tightly knitted eyebrows. It’s like he wants to say something but refuses to do so, and you’re unsure if you’re eternally grateful for it or not.

“I don’t want this to—look, I don’t want this to affect us or weaken us in any way,” you tell him, trying to push your voice into firmness as you come to stand in front of him. Your voice, despite the softness of it, seems to screech through the hollowness of the empty hallway. “Especially now. You’re prone to stupid ideas when left angry and unattended.”

He takes a step closer too, and then another. His hands are in his pockets but somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better. His eyes track over your features, lingering on the bruises, and you want to reassure him again that you’re fine—you’ve had far worse, and he knows this—but your tongue refuses to work.

“You do not have to worry, amore, I shall attempt to contain the ‘stupid’ until your return,” he says, his words almost teasing, even though his quiet scrutiny doesn’t let up. His eyes suddenly flicker upwards to meet yours and a slight, arrogant grin twists the side of his mouth. “Besides I have no plans to die any time soon.”

It’s a relief to hear that haughtiness back in his voice.

“Good. Good,” you repeat again and feels stupid for doing so. He’s still staring at you and you search for something to say to stop him from looking at you like that. “They’re dangerous, and you know the Dragon has the numbers. It might be a good idea to stay somewhere else while I’m not around.”

Precautions. Always better than being unprepared. Winston’s wisdom.

He leans into you and something in your chest cramps at the closeness between you. At the hungry, simmering light in his eyes while he peers at you.

“I do not scare easily, amore.”

A loving caress made only lovelier by the depth of his accent.

You want to pull away, step away, walk away but—

You can’t. A small, traitorous part of you doesn’t want to.

“Don’t start with the ego trip, please,” you murmur instead, an attempt to deter him perhaps but…but his eyes only glaze over as if… “Just keep your eyes peeled for once. What?”

You can’t take it anymore. That look.

“It’s nothing.”

A slow blink and he pulls back. But you see how he works his jaw, how the muscles in his neck keep jumping, how his fingers flex. Like he’s trying to rope himself back, contain whatever it is he wants to say. Do.

“Don’t do that. Don’t deflect,” you insist, though a distant voice deep inside warns how you shouldn’t push him. It would be so much better—easier—to leave things as they are between you. Unsaid. Distant with a few sparks in between. But— “You know I hate it when you do that. Whatever it is that’s on your mind, just say it.”

You regret your words the moment you speak them.

Not only because they make you into a hypocrite but also because it’s dangerous to give Santino such an opportunity. He might say something that could—and would—change everything between you.

But he doesn’t.

He practically grimaces. His body coiling with tension, but he keeps quiet.

You’re not sure which you feel more acutely, then: disappointment or relief.

Forcing oxygen into your lungs, you move to step past him, but he reacts first. His hand flies out, slamming against the wall and cutting off your path towards the elevator.

You freeze, caught off guard.

He breathes deeply; a loud, rattling sort of sound that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“You want to know what I’m thinking, hm? Is that it?”

His voice is wrecked. Syllables falling from his lips in a breathless litany as he leans towards you.

You can’t help it. A step forces you back and then another. It’s the first time you’ve ever yielded him any ground but his eyes spark and devour at the retreat, and you have no idea what he sees on your own face.

Maybe—

Maybe whatever he sees doesn’t make him retreat as it might have once. Instead, he draws even closer—closer to a point you’re a breath away and there is nowhere to run.

The hallway wall brushes against your back and his arm rests next to your head, still blocking your way.

His lips part and his eyes journey over your features slowly, intimately, in a way that boils the blood in your veins. “I’m thinking that I enjoy it far too much when you worry about me. I’m thinking that it’s unfair that you look so beautiful when you are angry with me. I’m thinking that I hate the fact that you are afraid but trying to hide it. I’m thinking, amore mio, that I hate that ring not because you wear it but because I believe you deserve so much better than him. You deserve everything.”

His head tilts and his hooded stare won’t let you escape now. Perhaps, after all this time, he’s been pushed too far. Has waited enough and longed enough.

Maybe some reckless part of you doesn’t want him to stop, either.

Maybe that part of you—wild and wicked and ruthless as he is—won’t mind if he reaches out and tries to claim what you know he’s desired for so long. What a part of you has desired, too—no matter how much effort you've put into trying to smother it, ignore it, kill it whole.

“And I am not ashamed to admit that it makes me jealous knowing you still care for him, even when I know I have no right to be,” he breathes, strained, his hot breath brushing over your parted lips and his words scrape against your bones. “But above all, hmm, above all else I’m thinking just how badly I want to kiss you right now.”

Your breath hitches and you know he feels it, hears it, because his own breathing is ragged. Like he’s trying—and failing—to keep his composure.

His free arm moves, and you feel his burning fingers on your hand. His eyes don’t drop away, your breaths mingling.

“But I won’t start with your lips. No, no,” he whispers, breathless with longing. His fingertips trail upwards slowly, touching and mapping your skin and another unsteady breath escapes you. “I would start with the palm of your hand, your arm…your shoulder.”

Santino leans closer, his nose brushing against the said shoulder, and even through the fabric of your clothes, his touch tingles, burns. The smell of his cologne fills your nose and the heat of him is even worse because his next words tickle the curve of your neck. “Oh, how I desire to feel your pulse against my lips, amore. It has almost driven me insane, imagining what you taste like all these years. I would explore every inch of your skin first, hmm, and only then would I kiss you.”

His lips brush against your jaw; a brief, fleeting contact that makes your hand snap out and grip his bicep. A battle between wanting to pull him closer and push him away. Your arm trembles. Santino watches you for a moment, your foreheads almost touching and whispers his next words to you like a secret. “Kiss you till those lips are tender and neither of us can breathe,” he mutters with a choked little laugh as his thumb ghosts over the curve of your lips. “I can’t breathe with you around, do you know that, hm?”

Your arm stills. Still holding on but only that.

His fingers curve against your face, tilting it towards him as he leans down.

Your mind is quiet as your eyes flutter closed, allowing yourself—for once—to simply feel.

Santino lingers, breathing you in. Perhaps savouring the moment; the anticipation of the feeling that’s about to sweep everything away, including the two of you.

He exhales suddenly—a pained, angry hiss—and it makes your eyes fly open. He presses his forehead against yours for a brief second before pulling back.

He looks angry. So angry. But not at you.

You don’t get to question him before he exhales through gritted teeth, “But not like this. Not like this.”

His fingers leave your face, slip from the wall, and he peers at you for a moment before he steps away. You wait for him to change his mind.

He doesn’t.

He looks so bitterly disappointed, but he pivots and walks back into the apartment without so much as a backwards glance.

The door slams shut and you flinch, coming back to reality.

Your heart is hammering in your chest so loudly you press your palm against your breastbone. Harder and harder, as if hoping to contain whatever is raging inside.

You stay slumped against the wall for another minute, composing yourself, and wonder when exactly your life became such a goddamn mess.

Green eyes, the heat of him, the scent, his touch grazing your skin—

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

A loud clap greets you first.

“As I breathe, the mighty Vipress,” the Bowery King exclaims, expanding his arms like he’s announcing you to his court. “Freedom suits you, sweetheart. My warmest congratulations to you on the rather unfortunate passing of our old friend Viggo. It was quite the little adventure to my understanding.”

A slight smirk lingers across your face, and you tilt your head in vague agreement.

The Bowery King grins, but there is nothing warm to be found in the gesture that’s all teeth and vicious sort of amusement.

The King hated Viggo as much as the rest of the city did. So you never expected him to be weepy over the unfortunate passing.

His wording does make you curious if he knows what really happened though. But you don’t dare to mention it now. Or the fact that your so-called freedom is not official. The High Table representatives are yet to contact you and the delay is making you uneasy.

“I admit, I am rather curious about what brings you here to my humble abode.”

Humble is not how you would describe the King’s living quarters. Humble was the tiny Moscow flat you shared with your parents. The Bowery King sits on a mountain of luxury and organisation that puts him at the very top of New York’s food chain. The silken robe he wears is just a statement, a testament, that while he might rule the bowery, there is nothing humble or poor about the man himself.

Giovanni and Tarasov may have been rotten to the core, but at least they didn’t call themselves champions of the people while sitting in their luxurious estates.

They, at least, had the nerve to admit exactly how rotten and malicious they were without flinching.

You’re not sure if the same can be said about the man in front of you.

“Your Majesty,” you greet flatly as you sit down in front of him. Earl stands beside you—a subtle warning—but knows better than to move any closer or touch you. Smart man. Your weapons have been removed upon entry but you hardly need them. “Freedom has been…exciting so far. So I think you know why I’m here.”

The King hums, long and loud, while he considers you. His head tilts from side to side; thoughtful, knowing.

“Perhaps I do,” he agrees mildly. “You don’t look so good though. A little Lovers spat from what my birdies told me.”

You almost roll your eyes.

Why are people in your life so damn theatrical?

Instead, you ask him a simple, “Where are they?”

The large man folds his hands on the expensive table separating you and chuckles. A deep, rumbling sound shakes his entire body as he looks at you with a biting smile.

“What makes you think I know?” he wonders, glancing towards Earl as if the man might shed some light on the matter. “After their little failed ambush, they ran. A wise decision. The Lovers though. Ooh, that’s gotta be bad for your health, dearest. They’re mean little suckers from what I’ve heard.”

Yes, they are. You’ve been digging for information from the moment you left Santino’s penthouse, calling in old favours and people based in Europe who may have more insider information on the two.

To defeat your enemy, you must know them.

The Lovers had the edge on you the last time you met.

They won’t get a second chance like that.

But all and any information you’ve gathered so far only confirms what you’ve only vaguely heard about in the past. They are more than dangerous, or cruel, they are obsessive. They hound and hound their prey till they get what they’re after.

Pissing them off wasn’t in your best interest but it’s too late for regrets now.

“You know where everyone in this city is at any given moment,” you say with a knowing tilt of your head and a flat stare. Today is not a day for games. “So let’s skip to the part where you stop playing coy and tell me what I need to know.”

Oh, it’s a risk. Using that tone with him. But you did not come here as a beggar. Not today.

The Bowery King doesn’t disagree because it would be a blatant lie on his behalf if he did. But he doesn’t answer, either. He spends another few moments simply observing you—as if weighing something inside his mind.

“And what’s your plan?” his question is borderline mocking. “You’re going to just waltz into whatever hole they’re hiding in and then what? Unleash your poison? Didn’t work out too well last time, now did it?”

You don’t particularly want or care to divulge your plan to him. The fewer people know, the better. Besides how you approach this depends entirely on where exactly the Lovers are hiding. And you know they are hiding. They don’t leave their prey alone until it’s dead. You and Santino are too conveniently here for them to ignore. They underestimated you but you doubt they’ll be repeating the mistake again, either.

“Leave the semantics to me,” you state calmly, staring him down. “I just need their location. Fast. Before they have time to plan their next move.”

The Bowery King nods, looking towards Earl again with an expression that seems to say ‘see’.

“Yes, very sensible,” he notes, amused. “Anything else you would like with the location of two psychotic killers? Some fries perhaps?”

Exhaling, you lean back in your seat, tapping your fingers impatiently against the armrest.

He wants to play with his food, does he?

Thinks this is a joke?

“What is it that you’re so fond of saying?” you pose coolly, your expression turning remote. “You owe me?”

A slow smile blooms across the man’s face; unapologetic and bordering on cruel.

“Oh, yes,” he drawls, his lips pulling back into something sharper and he shrugs once, nonchalant. “Dear old Zach.”

“How is he nowadays?”

A careful, measured question.

You watch him as he sighs, rolling his eyes as if he’s working hard to recall the information.

“Seems like the poor man succumbed to a mysterious illness,” he replies simply with a careless little shrug. “Last I heard.”

Yes, thanks to your poison.

It’s quiet for a beat and you hum thoughtfully, looking towards the light that filters through the windows.

How interesting.

“Tragic.”

“Isn’t it just?” the King voices sharply, leaning closer, his previous smile gone. He stares at you for a long minute before his features break into another slow smile. “Very well. A favour is a favour. I’ll get you their location.”

You don’t thank him. Because there is nothing to thank for. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just wasting your time. He could have agreed right away instead of this wordplay that—for once—you have no patience for. It’s dangerous to play like this with a man of his influence. He’s still New York. He has his own role to play and he plays it well, keeping order on the other side of the coin. But he’s also growing more and more powerful and brazen. Something to keep in mind and monitor, you conclude, standing to your feet.

“And so the scale is tipped even once again,” the Bowery King declares loudly, inclining in his extravagant seat. “I look forward to doing business with you again very soon, Vipress.”

You look at him over your shoulder.

“Hopefully not too soon.”

The Bowery King’s loud cackle follows you out.

“You still haven’t given him a name?”

John pauses and gives you a cautious sideways look.

“No.”

“Why not?” you can’t help but demand, watching as the dog happily comes running towards you both. He looks so thrilled that you can’t help but crack a smile as he chews on his toy, dropping it at your feet.

It’s gotten warmer. The afternoon sun could almost pass for pleasant as long as the wind doesn’t rattle the trees too hard.

It had been an impulse, coming here. You had no intention of doing so. And with everything else going on, it was probably not the best idea, either.

But you also needed space, perspective, time—to gather yourself, plan, think.

Your knee and ribs twinge when you lower yourself towards the ground in order to grab the toy and it’s a good reminder. A reminder that yesterday had been luck and nothing but luck.

Luck always runs out, Winston’s wry voice reminds you and you suppress a sigh.

The Lovers. The Black Dragon. Chicago. Things always circle back around.

But this time you will not go into a situation blind.

The dog nudges his wet nose against your hand with a pant and you pet his head, your slight grin growing.

“You should name him.”

Your fingers still, and the dog’s tongue lolls to the side, his tail wagging excitedly while he waits for you to throw the toy again.

“Me? He’s your dog.”

It’s your turn to sound wary, cagey.

Perhaps because it implies too much—gives you power and space in his life you did not expect him to grant. It’s still startlingly clear that neither of you knows how exactly you fit now. That there is underlining tension between you that’s ever-present.

But you promised you would try.

For yourself, not anyone else.

Because you need clarity with John. Either you bury whatever still exists between you once and for all, or you try to patch up your old relationship.

“You were there when I got him,” he informs you bluntly. “That gives you…some rights.”

You can’t quite help your startled snort. “Some rights? Wow, don’t spoil me now,” you mutter jokingly, shooting him a look over your shoulder. You rub the dog’s ear again and make a contemplative sound at the back of your throat. “Hm, fine. You sure you want to give me this much power? What if I name him something really deep like…Cheeseburger?” you offer, and noting the slight whine and tail wag, add an amused, “Hey, I think he likes it.”

A brief glimmer of a smile appears across John’s face. “I would be elect to ignore it,” he deadpans dryly but his expression is lighter in that moment, empty of the weight he carries.

Suppressing a snicker, you narrow your eyes. “Huh. Now that’s just rude,” you point out equally as dryly and rub the dog’s head again. “Isn’t it, boy? Mean Johnny won’t even name you.”

You pick up the toy and the dog dashes forward, practically vibrating with excitement as he waits for you to throw it. You do. It sails far in the distance before falling heavily onto the grass and the dog races after it, carefree and happy. For a brief second, you almost feel envious of that happiness, of that freedom.

“What’s going on, (Name)?”

Your dim smile fades, and you turn to face him. He looks so normal in his casual, everyday clothes. Average. A normal man just living his life. You could pass him on the street and never know what he’s capable of—never know just how much people fear the mere mention of his name.

But that’s the thing about John. He’s always been a man of two sides. A man you loved and a man…a man you never got to know. Not really.

“What makes you think something is going on?”

His expression is drawn, serious, and he regards you with a look that doesn’t belong to John-the-Man but to John-the-Boogeyman instead. The look of quiet, lethal focus you once knew him so well for.

“You didn’t have those bruises the last time we spoke,” he notes carefully, and something icy lingers in his calm, critical words. “And you weren’t walking with a limp.”

So he noticed. Of course, he did. He’s John. Not many things slip past his notice but it’s easy to forget sometimes.

You sigh under your breath, looking towards the distant horizon where the New York skyline touches the sky. Somewhere out there, your enemies await. Somewhere out there, they might be planning your and Santino’s deaths as you stand here playing fetch. It makes you restless. But there’s only so much you can do until you have their location and that, unfortunately, is not in your hands right now.

When your attention returns to John, he’s still rooted in the same spot, silent and attentive. “It’s currently being handled.”

He doesn’t look reassured. “The High Table?”

You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you tilt your head in consideration. “Not…exactly.”

“Is it serious?”

Astute as always.

“Yes.”

You aren’t sure which worries you more: the Lovers or the Black Dragon. Both are a threat; a too big, sizeable threat. But the fact that the High Table hasn’t gotten involved personally is…telling. You’ve been mulling over the situation in your head and a lot of things either don’t add up or imply rather interesting things.

“Do you need help?”

Your eyes find his.

He stands before you—a phantom of a man—and you feel a stab of pity in your heart. Why does he offer something he can’t stomach to even think about? You wonder if he realises how obvious and plain it is to see on his face how the very idea seems to weigh on him. Eat at him from inside out.

“You can’t help me,” you tell him bluntly and give him a meaningful look. “And we both know you don’t want to.”

Even if it would be nice. To stand with him again, to fight beside him again, to know that John Wick of all people has your back.

His lips part before he presses them back together again. He seems to control his first impulse reaction which no doubt would have been a vehement denial. “That’s not it,” he says instead but his voice sounds thin.

A slight, scathing smile tugs your lips upwards as you gaze at him.

Wind ruffles his dark hair and he looks younger with the sun kissing his skin, and bright afternoon light brightening his usually aloof demeanour. You’re glad to see it. He needs this peace, this quiet.

Maybe one day, you will get to experience it, too. Get to live the rest of your life like those sunny three days in Naples a year ago. Free of every worry, every fear.

It’s not that you want to leave this world you’ve made your own behind. You’ve suffered too much to be where you are now just to abandon it. You’ve carved and tore a space out for yourself with teeth and hands bloody to retreat after victory.

It’s more to do with the fact that you want to breathe and actually feel the freedom that breath gives you. To not be bound by anything or anyone that isn’t your own choice or making.

“Isn’t it?” you wonder coolly, but your voice is empty of judgment or anger. “You get involved in this world again, and there won’t be a ticket back this time. You got lucky. But if you do this now, you’ll be right back where you started. Is that what you want? Is it?”

“No.”

That’s exactly what you thought he will say. You wait for resentment or bitterness to hit but…

You didn’t come here with the intention of asking for his help. Looking at him now, you haven’t even expected him to offer it, no matter how reluctantly. You could demand it, of course. Santino seems convinced that you should. And indeed with John at your side taking the Lovers would be—perhaps not easy—but certainly less challenging.

But you know what it’s like, teetering on the edge and fearing that no one is going to help you and pull you back. Understand you. That someone might throw you deeper into the abyss for their own gain instead.

If you ask this of John, you will be the one doing the throwing.

If you ask this of him, you will be no better than Tarasov was with you. No better than even John himself was when he left, believing wrongly in the depth of your inner strength.

“Then trust me when I say that you’re better off not getting involved,” you inform him coolly, ignoring the way he clenches his jaw as if frustrated. Perhaps with himself, perhaps with the situation. “I’m respecting your decision to stay retired; as your former friend. It’s better this way,” you reassure him because it’s true. If you hope to rebuild, this is not the way to start, so you add a weary, “If I drag you back into this due to my mistakes…you will just grow to resent me.”

“I could never resent you.”

He says it so simply and with such quiet conviction in his voice that for a long moment you have nothing to offer in return. Like it’s so easy for him; a fact of the universe that’s never going to alter. It feels like he’s reached inside your ribcage and grabbed whatever is left of your heart, squeezing it in his powerful fist until it trembles.

A distant, cold part of you recoils at his words, at the softness of them, at the way he stares at you like he believes them wholeheartedly.

Your hands slide inside the pockets of your jacket as you half-turn away from him. “I should go.”

“(Name)—”

You pause briefly, frowning, and look up at him. “After I’ve dealt with this…I—I would like to talk with you. Properly. About everything,” you force out, your words stilted. “If we are to try and be friends again. If you even want to—”

John takes a step closer, his expression earnest.

“I would like that. My door is always open to you.”

Swallowing, you dip your head in an awkward nod, and with the sun warming your shoulder blades, you almost feel hopeful for the first time in a long while.

The map rolls out across the large table, and you flatten your fingers across it, smoothing the edges.

The room is dead silent.

“Are those…” Roberto fades off, staring at the plans in front of him in clear confusion.

“Sewers,” you confirm with a slight dip of your head. “That’s where they’re hiding.”

The map is riddled with red dots and messy scribbles. The Bowery King had passed you the map with a derisive little twist of his mouth, wishing you a happy hunt through piss, shit, and fat of this city. It took him less than a day to locate them though, so you can't exactly complain.

Ares stares at the map in open disgust and Santino’s repulsed expression is no better.

“It’s smart,” you admit, albeit reluctantly, as you trace your fingers over the paper. “The entire system stretches across 6,600 miles, including mains and pipes. They knew what they were doing. It’s a perfect place to stay off the grid but also make sure it’s easy to defend. They can have entry points watched at all times not to mention runoffs in case of an attack. It’s smart.”

“But they are pushing themselves into a corner, aren’t they? If they’re attacked, it will get messy,” Roberto points out curiously. “It doesn’t seem that smart to me.”

“Not if you don’t care about collateral damage,” you remark, unfazed, folding your arms over your chest. “Not if you’re like them.”

The large man in front of you falls quiet at that, but you can see him frowning even under his heavy beard.

“What did the Rat King demand in return for this information?” Santino asks from beside you and you still. “He did not simply give you this map out of the kindness of his non-existent heart.”

You risk a brief look his way before dragging your eyes back towards the table, shifting in your spot. It’s rather difficult to look at him after your earlier…encounter. Hard not to recall his smooth, accented voice in your ear and the scorching heat of his touch.

When did you lower the wall between you so much that such a simple moment manages to get under your skin like this? You have known him for a long time and it’s hardly the first time he has spoken to you with that breathless intimacy in his voice. Hardly the first time he’s touched you.

Hardy the first time you’ve almost kissed.

What, exactly, has changed between you?

“Nothing,” you reply shortly, trying to keep your voice even. “He owed me.”

You feel the heavy weight of Santino’s scrutiny focus on the side of your face but he doesn’t comment further. After another beat, he leans over the map. His long fingers trace over it, his golden Camorra ring gleaming in dull light as his eyes trail over the paths and circled spots.

“How many?”

You step closer, falling beside him, and push the awkwardness away. This can wait till later. You have business to attend to first.

“At least fifty,” you say, and point to a spot on the map. “They mainly use this Southern entrance on the outskirts of the city and the King’s men observed them use another three for exits and moving supplies. Here, here, and here.”

You point to each spot and Roberto leans over, curious. Ares does the same a moment later and the four of you consider the large parameter in silence. Not the best thing for this type of job because it stretches out your own numbers too thin.

“Fifty,” Santino mutters, pensive. “Less than I expected.”

“They weren’t able to give me the exact numbers but that’s the minimum we should expect,” you inform him, and he glances at you. “It would make sense if they initially took smaller numbers to remain invisible. Smaller numbers also require fewer resources. It’s rather interesting that the Dragon didn’t just unleash it’s full might if they want us dead so badly.”

Santino straightens, his eyes narrowing. He braces his hand on the table but his attention is solely on you. “Ah, you think they are hiding.”

“Don’t you?” you pose calmly and judging by the calculating gleam in his eyes, you already have your answer. “An ambush? Hiring someone else to do their dirty work for them? Why bother with the Lovers at all? Why not just go straight to the High Table? Which must mean…”

“Whoever it is doesn’t have proof.”

So he’s been thinking about it too.

For a moment, you simply peer at each other. “Which must then mean that whoever is currently running the Dragon is either unaware of what happened at Chicago, or they know but won’t risk a direct fight. They’re using the Lovers as a scapegoat, a cover. Do we know who's running the Dragon currently? Could we find out?”

“No,” Santino replies and you hear the poorly veiled resentment there. “Only the members of the High Table are in contact with the Dragon. Sister dearest will know once she officially gets the seat. They prefer to, hmm, keep things private after the last time.”

Santino’s scorn is clear and you don’t blame him.

Yes, the last time…

Roberto and Ares are quiet. Neither has pushed for more information, even though you know they want to. Ares knows enough but even she hasn’t demanded more. Whether it’s out of trust or loyalty, you don’t know, but you appreciate it all the same. As far as they know or care, someone is coming for you and Santino. Coming for one is coming for all of you. That’s good enough for them.

Your arms loosen and you rotate your shoulder to alleviate the ache in your ribs before glancing back towards the map with a sigh. “I will take the Lovers myself,” you announce quietly, resolute. “We need at least one of them alive.”

“Absolutely not, cara—”

You interrupt him before he can no doubt make a spectacle out of your differing opinions again. “I’m not stupid enough to go alone,” you reassure him, scrunching your eyebrows at him in an almost insulted manner. “Ares and I will take point. Roberto and at least a few dozen of your men will be there too. But the Lovers are another league. It has to be me. Ares will be my backup.”

But his expression is surprisingly unyielding, surprisingly grim. “Then I’m coming as well.”

Something in your chest twists.

“Absolutely not,” you snap immediately and shake your head when his lips part to argue. “The last thing we need is to have our focus divided. If you come, the only thing the three of us will do is worry about keeping you safe. And I know you’re a good shot but we can’t afford to present such an obvious opportunity for the Lovers. You know I’m right. And don’t look at them,” you add when you see his attention go from you to Ares and Roberto. “They work for you, they can’t refuse you.”

Santino scowls, irritated, but considers your words. “Very well,” he says, at last, reluctant. You’re surprised he’s not pouting—yet. “But I will still be overseeing, cara mia.”

“I figured you’d say that,” you shoot back, your words mock sweet. “Minimum six guards and you’re armed the entire time. Let’s not make it too easy for them, shall we? They’re after you too.”

This is why you must focus the Lovers’ attention on you. Why they have to be so busy fighting you, they forget Santino exists. An image comes crawling through your mind, then—an image of the male Lover with his thin, long fingers and wrapped, awful smile squeezing his hands around Santino’s throat. The crack of bones. A dull thud.

Your jaw clenches so tight, you can hear a distant buzzing in your ears before you banish the thought away.

No. Something like that will never happen. You would never allow it. Neither would Ares or Roberto.

Still, the fact that he even suggested going…

He’s is not a fighter—has never been one—and he hates getting involved if it’s anything as high stakes as this. Which makes you wonder why it’s now he considers doing so.

Is it worry? Fear that something might go wrong? He knows what you’re capable of so you know it has nothing to do with him looking down on your capabilities and yet—

Santino raises his chin, his expression relaxing slightly as the harsh curve of his eyebrows eases and he regards you with a slight twitch of his mouth. Something changes in his expression; a minute shift that darkens his eyes and slows his breathing.

I enjoy it far too much when you worry about me.

Your eyes skitter away from him at the sudden recall and you focus back on the map.

“They’re also pyromaniacs,” you remind the people in the room and clear your throat. “Experts from what I’ve gathered. I think we can safely assume they will have the entrances rigged with explosives. It’s what I would do.”

“Stop any possible attacks and cut off exits, trapping attackers inside,” Santino assumes smoothly and makes a small noise at the back of his throat. His attention shifts towards Roberto. “Make sure the men have a copy of this map, and get eyes on all these entrances as quickly as possible. Guard rotations, numbers, weaponry. I want to know everything, is that understood?”

Roberto nods at once, clasping his tattooed hands in front of him. “Sì, capo. Consider it done.”

Santino inclines his head and turns towards Ares. “What are you thinking? Two teams? Three?”

You share a brief look before she turns towards the two men.

Four teams. One for each entrance. We go through the main one. Hard to tell where the duo is going to be located, she signs with a solemn glower and traces her fingers along the tunnels. We should assume a safer central position. But the parameter is wide. Do we have any other information about the inside layout?

Her eyes focus on you again but you shake your head. “They couldn’t sneak anyone in without someone noticing,” you tell them but lean over to place your fingers against the large cavity in the plans. “But this seems like a nice little spot. It’s far away from the main entrance, it’s open enough to house large numbers, and if they need to escape they can easily access all the different exits from here.”

To prove your point, you tap your finger in a circle where the exits are marked. “If we go in from the South, we send smaller teams to block off the other exits. They want to be rats hiding in the sewers? Let’s make them exactly that.”

“Ah, they can’t blow all the exits, unless they want to trap themselves inside, too,” Santino muses and when you look at him, you’re unsurprised to see a slight smirk twitching the corners of his mouth. “The idea of them rotting is a rather appealing one, I must admit. What are our numbers?”

He directs this question at Ares and she pulls a face. Depends on the time constraint.

“As soon as possible,” you insist immediately and she sighs heavily.

Then 3-0, at best.

Are they at least good shot? you sign back and Santino makes a disbelieving sound at the back of his throat.

“Amore, I’m going to try and not be insulted by that,” he mutters wryly and you fail to hold back your quiet snort at his incredulous tone. “Camorra doesn’t employ useless idiots.”

“Yet you complain about how incompetent everyone is all the time.”

His mouth opens to no doubt grace you with a witty retort but he seemingly draws blank, making you suppress a smirk of your own.

“How quickly can you gather the men?” he demands instead, turning back towards Ares and the woman needs a second to empty her own expression of impish amusement.

By tonight, she reveals and you straighten, ignoring the twinge in your muscles.

Your attention goes to Santino and he looks at you at the exact same moment.

You share a long, weighty look before you turn back towards Ares and Roberto. Their own expressions are dour in a way that tells you they already know what will come out of your mouth next.

Thirty is hardly the best number, but it will have to do.

“Make the calls,” you order grimly. “We attack tonight.”

It takes another three hours of planning before you depart from the penthouse.

Ares and Roberto are busy rallying the men when you go, and Santino is busy making calls for additional resources for the said men.

You have a plan. You have the formations and have tried to prepare for as many scenarios as you could.

What if there are more than fifty men? What if the Lovers are not there? What if they are there, and what weaknesses can be exploited when you attack?

The plans were good, solid, but plans also go to shit. That’s why you’ve left to do your own prep.

Santino figured it would be smarter to stick together until the attack but you don't fear the Lovers. And going against them underprepared would be stupider. That’s why you departed with a promise you will meet them at your agreed spot outside the Southern entrance tonight.

Your first stop had been the Doc’s clinic.

As if there’s anyone else in this damn city you would ever trust to get you back into a fighting shape. Your limp and bruised ribs would be too much of a distraction and a slowdown in open battle. Doc had been less than enthusiastic about your request—he’s a believer of natural healing more than anything—but he also recognised how these injuries could cost you your life. That’s why, despite his displeased muttering, he patched you up the best he could. Made you drown at least three different solutions which tasted as disgusting as they smelled before he was satisfied.

A large needle in the knee later, you could walk around the clinic without a limp.

“It will reduce the swelling and the bruising for a while but won’t magically heal it,” Doc had told you, moving around his storage room and pulling different bottles out and checking their labels. “You will regain full mobility till the effect wears off but I would not recommend fighting.”

“I have no choice.”

“Liar,” he had grumbled and flicked your ear with a keen frown. “Violence was committed against you so now you go seeking retribution. Because you believe, wrongly, that it will make you feel better. Do you even know how to live without this violence anymore, V?”

You had said nothing in reply because you both knew the answer to his question.

No—not anymore. That, too, has been taken from you.

You left the clinic an hour later, feeling better than you have in days—if not weeks—and had set your sights on your next stop. The Continental.

Your arsenal is protected by Continental walls, and you can’t go into a fight without it.

Heading straight for your room, you only spare Charon a brief wave before mentally running through your plan of attack.

Your phone buzzes for what is no doubt the tenth time in this last hour alone, and you check the information coming your way. Namely, new intelligence about the Lovers. Most of it, much to your dismay, is already known to you.

Their hits. Tortures. Few new tidbits about their hunting methods but nothing hefty enough to really give you an edge.

The male is certainly the bigger physical threat but the female is apparently the more vindictive one. She delights in the torture. He simply enjoys the hunt, the thrill of the chase.

Recalling the intensity with which he tried to run you down, you’re not surprised to learn as such.

Sparing a brief look at yourself in the mirror, you start to get ready.

Your combat gear is scattered around the room and you gather it quickly. Usually, you have to wear a pretty dress and heels to do a job. It’s often more about blending in and striking when no one expects it. That’s why you rarely gear up for war like this.

But you’re methodical about it. Sturdy boots, braces for all your joints, blades of varying sizes and makes curtesy of Sommelier himself, and enough ammunition to keep you battle ready without slowing you down.

And most importantly, you pull out your bodysuit, spreading it across the bed. It’s pitch black and soft to the touch. The flexible, lightweight masterpiece was custom-made specifically for you a little over a year ago now. Completely bulletproof even though getting hit still hurts like a bitch.

Franco—undoubtedly the best damn tailor in all of Rome, if not the world—had delighted at the challenge. He specialises in men's wear, but your request had proved to be unique enough to grab his attention.

He produced the design in a week.

And spent the following three months crafting it by hand. A perfectionist through and through.

“It is unique. There is no other like it in the world,” he had told you proudly when he presented it to you. “And already paid for,” he added with a knowing smile when the topic of payment came up.

Predictably, it had been Santino who paid. When you confronted him about it—he knows you hate presents and won’t accept them—he had simply told you it wasn’t a present. That it was a job tool you will use to work for him on future jobs. He had considered it an investment.

Looking back on it now, he’s far slyer than you gave him credit for because you believed him then.

But.

The suit fits you to perfection—not too loose to give people a chance to grab onto you but not tight enough to constrict your limbs, either. Just perfect, and you’re grateful for it.

There’s a slight sheen to the material in this light. It makes your body glimmer like a black diamond, you think as you stare at your reflection, or perhaps a dark star.

Or a deadly viper with shiny, black scales.

Your lips twitch slightly.

With knives and extra ammunition attached to the suit and spare pockets, you certainly look and feel deadly.

By the time you add poison to your arsenal, you can’t help but think that perhaps it’s the Lovers who should be worried.

You hope they are.

Because they won’t live past tonight.

Your phone rings ten minutes out.

Your plan was to leave it with Santino right before you go in but keep it on you in case any last-minute information comes through.

It takes one peek at the name on the screen for you to hurriedly press the Answer button and press it to your ear.

“I didn’t expect you to call me,” you say down the line, tense but curious.

The male voice on the other end answers with a teasing, “I am insulted, carina,” he mutters before a slight chuckle sounds on the other side. “Now, please tell me that I’m brilliant because I truly am. Tell me how brilliant I am, V.”

Your eyes flicker outside where the New York streets blur. “Depends on what you got for me.”

“Check your mail.”

Putting him on the speakerphone, you do. A new message has just come through and you open it. An attachment pops up; an attachment with two images of familiar but much younger pale faces staring back at you. A breath rushes out of your lungs as you hurriedly scroll through the information beneath the pictures.

“How did you get this?” you wonder, breathless. “No one has been able to find anything about their pasts.”

A pleased, boyish laugh sounds in reply. But you hear the ice underneath it, the cunning. “Oh, you know how it is. A touch of hacking, a bit of murder, some extortion and it’s all very live and let die, no?”

You pause because you’re not sure how to answer him. With him, it could be all of the above or none—that’s just how he is.

“You’re brilliant,” you reassure him as your eyes devour the information about the Lovers. “You are the most brilliant Italian I’ve ever met.”

“Uh oh. Don’t let Santino hear that,” he jokes with a loud snort. “He might throw a fit. But yes, thank you for acknowledging it, carina. I am. I do believe you owe me a kiss and a dance next time you are in Rome.”

You shake your head with a slight laugh. “You’re unbelievable,” you state dryly. “But thank you. I appreciate this. Truly. You didn’t have to,” you add, recalling the last time you all saw each other. The circumstances were less than pleasant.

“Nope! I most certainly didn’t, but I couldn’t resist a damsel distressed, you see,” he shoots back followed by the sound of a plastic packet opening and some crunching. Is he eating? “Mhm, by the way. Speaking of which. Don’t tell Hector. Or the Iron Crow for that matter. Please, tell Santino though. Maybe he will be less of a prick to me the next time we see each other.”

Iron Crow.

An apt name for Gianna, perhaps. But—

“Hector?” you wonder, your features twisting with confusion. “Why would I tell Hector? I haven’t seen him in over a year.”

Silence answers you before you hear more shuffling and chewing. Your confusion transforms into something else, something sharper. “Step,” you begin, tightly. “Why would I tell Hector?”

“Let’s just keep this a sexy secret between us girls,” he says with forced cheer in his voice. “Don’t do anything I won’t—and we both know that list is pretty short. Ciao!”

“Step—”

The line goes dead.

“Shit.”

You try to ring him back twice but he doesn’t pick up.

There is no time to try for the third time because the taxi rolls to a stop, and you hand the golden coin without so much as a second glance at the driver.

The rest of the way, you walk on foot. It takes another five minutes before you reach your destination. You don’t waste time, reading the information Step has so kindly sent you on the way instead.

The male had a predictably troubled childhood but the female—

The further you read, the more you feel something like resentment starting to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

A figure ahead catches your attention and you put your phone away, trying to digest everything you’ve just learned.

As agreed, Roberto greets you just outside the parameter, stiff-backed and silent.

“How are we looking?” you ask him as he falls in step beside you.

He, too, is dressed for battle, and you’re glad to see the bulletproof vest covering his broad chest. He will no doubt need it before the night is done.

Overhead the moon disappears behind clouds and your head tilts. The air is full of cool dampness that’s usually followed by heavy downpour, and you wonder if it's going to affect the sewers in any way. Hopefully, if it does, it will be to your advantage.

“We’re on track,” he reports promptly as your feet crunch on the gravel. “We have secured the Southern entrance. The guards change every four hours so we still have two hours to go before anyone comes looking. Flavio is overseeing the teams guarding the other exits but they’re hidden for now. Ares and Boss are waiting for your arrival. We’re ready to begin.”

“Any explosives?”

Roberto mutters angrily in Italian before dipping his head in a nod. “Oh yes, the bastards had enough to blow half the block just on the main entrance alone.”

Your head turns in his direction. “Have they been disarmed? Do other teams know what to expect?”

Roberto grunts under his breath, his mouth twisting beneath his beard. “Sure thing, V,” he responds and in the darkness, you think you see him grin briefly. “Ares disarmed them herself. Called the Lovers primitive idiots.”

You snort, and the sound cuts through the night air loudly. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”

A small opening appears ahead and you recognise the figures moving around the darkness.

Ares is easy to spot with her slight, lithe frame and your eyes sweep over the space trying to locate another figure.

Santino stands next to one of his large Range Rovers, the bright headlights bathing him in a luminous glow as he oversees the preparations. One of the guards—an individual on strike team if the uniform and the bulletproof vest is anything to go by—talks with him, but even from this distance, you can read Santino’s restlessness. His answers are short and clipped, his body language near hostile, tense.

Another guard—this one in a suit—approaches him and hands him an umbrella.

Your chin tips upwards again, and you realise it’s started drizzling. The water feels fresh and cold against your skin and you blink up at the sky slowly.

By the time you look back towards Santino, the Italian seems to have spotted you as well.

His eyes darken with every step you take closer, drinking in the sight of you. He doesn’t bother masking his desire, he never does. It’s not in his nature to do so.

“What a terrifying get up, amore,” he greets softly, his words an intimate brush against your senses. “Perhaps the Lovers will fall to their knees and start worshipping you the moment they see you instead.”

Your mouth curls. “Would certainly spare me the trouble of killing them.”

Santino doesn’t say anything, simply gazing at you before shooting a brief glance towards Roberto and the guards. The men, to their credit, understand and scatter immediately, effortlessly integrating themselves into the undergoing prep.

“You’ll get soaked,” he comments lightly and lifts the umbrella, placing it partially over your head. “Not a good look, cara mia.”

Your tongue feels heavy for some reason, but you still force out a strained, “A bit of drizzle hasn’t killed anyone yet, you spoiled bastard.”

Santino chuckles, low and deep, and takes a step closer. With the large, black umbrella hiding you away, it feels like you’re in some pocket universe, hidden from everyone.

But just as quickly as his joy blooms, it withers, and something grim is left standing in its place.

“Stick with Ares and Roberto,” he orders but it’s a soft thing, more of a request, a worry. “Don’t do anything stupid, either, hm?”

Your heart thuds in your chest while you stare at his shadowed features. “Worried?”

He doesn’t answer but he doesn’t need to. You know he is.

Your hand reaches out and you move his suit jacket aside. You’re not sure if he’s breathing. But he is wearing a holster and you see a pistol snug against his side which eases your mind a touch.

“Worried?” he whispers gently, almost jokingly.

“Yes.”

Because you are leaving him in a sea of mostly unfamiliar, untested faces. They will protect him only because they are paid to do so and it’s their job—not because they’re loyal. Not because they care for his wellbeing or even like him and that’s a flimsy, easily broken protection to rely on.

Because you would only trust Ares with his life, and perhaps Roberto, but they are coming with you instead.

Because it’s seared onto your mind. The image of his broken neck and lifeless eyes.

If you fail here tonight, then the Lovers will come for him next and that thought chills you to the bone.

“I do not regret Chicago,” he speaks suddenly, and you pause, confused. His eyes are hooded and full of familiar simmering heat, but you can’t recall the last time you’ve heard him sound so morose. “Hell itself could come after us, amore, and I still won’t regret it. In fact, I would do it all again if it leads us here every time.”

Sometimes you don’t understand him at all. “Why?”

His lips twist into a roguish, irritatingly charming grin that feels like a tickle. A tickle that seems to whisper Smile with me, this is for you anyway and you almost do.

“Paris,” he declares with an arch of his eyebrows. “Once we’re done with the swine, let’s finally go, shall we? I’ll tell you then.”

The drizzle transforms into a light downpour and you inhale deeply. “Start ordering the tickets then. This shouldn’t take long.”

You duck your head to step from under the umbrella but his fingers wrap around your wrist, and he tugs you back, making you glance sharply in his direction.

Santino exhales deeply, his grip on your hand tight, burning. “If it goes wrong,” he breathes quietly, his words as fierce as they are gentle. “You get out. No matter what.”

Your throat closes up.

No matter what.

You know he means that literally.

Get out even if it means slaughtering your way out of those damp tunnels—even if it means sacrificing your team, even if means leaving Ares and Roberto behind.

I lost the title, but I have no intention of losing you too.

But you’re unsure if it's a promise you can give him—or one you can keep.

Reaching out, you press your thumb against the rigid line between his furrowed brows. His expression eases but his grip doesn’t.

“I’ll try, grumpy.”

Tugging your hand free, you step from beneath the umbrella and relief follows every step he doesn’t try to stop you.

Ares greets you with a nod and a wink. Finished saying your romantic goodbyes yet?

You shoot an irritated glare her way and sign back, Do not start.

Her slight smirk widens, now all teeth, and you elbow her.

“Are we ready?”

She nods once and waves her hand above her head; a signal for the men to gather around. They do so in a matter of minutes and you count ten before you. Others have split off to guard the other entrances and intercept anyone trying to escape or call for help.

Together with you, Ares, and Roberto that makes thirteen.

Everyone is armed to the teeth, and when Santino stalks over to address the group, you can’t help but direct your attention his way just like everyone else.

“You have been instructed what your task is,” he says crisply, his expression drawn. “You know your formations and you know what to expect in there. These are trained individuals so don’t be stupid enough to underestimate them. Kill them all, but if you see the Lovers do not engage. Your task is too clear a path only. Clear?”

The men call out confirmations and you look towards Ares who secures a gas mask over her face. Roberto does the same, swiftly followed by the other ten.

You’re the only one left standing without a mask and you inhale deeply, smelling the rain.

Your eyes briefly meet Santino’s through the halo of darkness his umbrella creates before you turn back towards your team. “Let’s go and say hello, shall we?”

The group falls into formation with you, Ares, and Roberto taking the lead. The tunnel ahead is a gaping pit of darkness and Ares silently signs for the men to turn on their torches. The light is dim as you move slowly, quietly, through the damp space.

For a while the path stretches straight, everything still and dark. The dull symphony of rain echoes, bouncing off every surface. To get to the central position, it will take at least another ten minutes on foot and four different turns when the path eventually branches out.

The further you creep, the fouler the stench in the air becomes but you keep your focus on the sounds, anticipating movement ahead. The element of surprise will be crucial and you have no intention of letting it go to waste. Everyone else is more than aware of this too, their footsteps careful and measured on the slick concrete.

A loud, gurgling sound explodes through the tunnel, and Roberto jerks his machine gun upwards on instinct, your hand snapping out to still him. Ares lifts her hand in the air sharply, stopping the suddenly tense team as well. The sound of gutter rain washing through the mains overhead is near deafening and you slant your head, listening intently. Everyone relaxes a moment later and you pat Roberto’s arm once, reassuring, before jerking your chin towards Ares to keep moving.

You clear the first intersection without any troubles, taking a steep left. Then another few minutes of silence and rain before you come upon another intersection. The team hovers before the plunging turn, waiting, listening, before Ares motions with her hand and the group moves again.

By this point, the water in the tunnel is up to your ankles and you wordlessly gesture for everyone to take extra care, to slow down further if needed. The cover of rain is helping in this case, but it’s rather difficult to hide the sound of thirteen pairs of feet trudging through water all the same.

Ares halts ahead, tensing, and your hand tightens around the blade in your hand. It’s the third turn-off, and you know that if you were right to assume the Lovers have taken up the central position here, you will start seeing bodies soon.

She raises her arm and holds out two fingers. Over the sound of dripping pipes and the loud rush of rain, you can just barely make out two voices. Coming closer.

Brushing against her side, you tap your fingers against her shoulder once and she nods. Roberto falls back a step, already knowing the routine and making you more space to use.

Voices draw closer. Closer. Closer…

You and Ares move so quickly, you don’t think the two men even have time to register what’s happening until it’s already too late. Your blade sinks into the soldier before you like butter and your hand slaps against his mouth, muffling the sound of agony as you twist the blade inside his neck. The man stumbles and falls back against the tunnel, his eyes blown wide open. He reaches for the blade but it’s too late. His life blows out like a candle and the bigger struggle is trying to get his flesh to release your weapon.

Ares steps away from her own fallen victim and wiggles her fingers at the rest of the team.

Roberto and another three men move at once, dragging the bodies to a darker, more secluded corner of the tunnel. Hidden from sight for now.

We are getting close, she signs but you’re barely paying attention.

You let the familiar, calming coldness envelope you instead. It’s like sinking into the deepest depths of an ocean and the only thing left is the end goal. Your head becomes a barren wasteland of death. John once described it to you as an absolute stillness of one’s psyche. A place where you are driven by instincts alone. Survival is the only thing that matters.

It took you years to achieve it, but you feel it now. A distant, calming call and you take a step towards it just like you take a step in the real world.

You reach the centre in less than three minutes and know you were right long before you do.

Silently, softly, with all the malice in the world, you and the team take out another five men before you reach the entrance.

With your back resting against the damp wall, you prepare the canister in your hand with ease that betrays your intimate knowledge.

Roberto stands ahead on the opposite side of the wall, his machine gun raised, ready. Ares drills the team on formations and numbers Roberto relays to her from the few glimpses inside.

Warm light permeates from the entrance and despite the stink and the damp in the air, you hear amiable conversation buzzing inside. A mix of languages and dialects. Some familiar to you, some not.

Rolling the canister in your hand, you give Ares the agreed signal. She moves to stand beside you and raises her hand in the air again. She holds out five fingers.

Five.

Four.

She glances at you, meeting your hard stare through her gas mask.

Three.

Two.

You feel your team collectively tense and inhale.

One.

The canister sails through the air, exploding with thick vapour upon contact, immediately followed by another.

The previously peaceful space flies into chaos, and you use it to your advantage. The team slices through the opposing ranks like a whetted, deadly blade, and bullets rip through the air seconds later.

The Dragon’s men scramble for their gas masks, seemingly realising what’s happening when their friends start dropping to the ground with screams of pain.

Poisoned and dying a painful death.

You could have used a paralyser, of course.

But that would have been kind.

You have no kindness for people who are trying to kill you and Santino.

Cutting through the vapour, you realise a few things at once.

There are certainly more than fifty of them.

And you can’t see blonde hair anywhere. Not the bright, eye-catching shade of it anyway.

Those fast enough scramble to grab their guns, and you fall behind a pillar, easily taking out five men with a clean shot each.

It’s chaos.

Chaos of poison, bodies, bullets, and blood.

Seeing an opening, you dash forward, jumping down few steps to sink a blade into a man’s chest, slicing down. Twirling around, you shoot another in the head, and duck down, letting Roberto shoot another two bodies over your body. The first man drops beside you—now dead—and you rise to your feet with the cover of Roberto’s gun, letting another three blades find their targets.

On your left, a bit further down, Ares is ripping through bodies with a ruthless efficiency that almost matches your own.

Another clip of bullets later, you feel a frustrated snarl bubble at the back of your throat.

You don’t have time for this. Where are—

Your eyes catch a blur on your right and you manage to react just in time to kick Roberto out of the way before an explosive drops meters away from you. Throwing your body to the side, you let the small bang rattle the air.

Purposely weak.

A bait.

Even if it injures—if not outright kills—at least three of the Dragon’s men.

Their bodies lay still and unmoving and you choke down a cough at the stench of burned flesh.

Jerking your head towards the Eastern entrance, you spot the male Lover standing at the entryway.

He’s tall and lean as you remember—and just as terrifyingly elegant.

Your eyes meet and his thin lips stretch into a breathless, pleased smile upon spotting you.

He seems unbothered by the poison floating through the air, or perhaps believes he’s too far away for it to affect him with the distance and no wind.

He lifts his hand and crooks his index finger at you, beckoning you to him. Then, he turns and disappears down the darkened tunnel, not bothering to help his men fight.

You risk the briefest of glances towards Roberto who is already getting back on his feet before snarling in Ares’ general direction, “Cover each other!”

“V!”

Ignoring the loud shout, you sprint towards the Eastern entrance. It’s a trap. Of course, it is. But you are not going to let him get away.

Either you die here tonight, or the Lovers do. There is no option C.

A figure rushes at you, blocking your path, and you bite back a snarl.

A bullet hits your side and another. As if you would ever make it that easy.

You’ve survived too much to falter here—now—at the hands of some faceless nobody.

You launch yourself at him, your thighs wrapping around the body as you use the momentum to twist yourself around his waist and bury your blade in his neck.

Gravity drags you down.

The man drops to the ground heavily, you on top of him, and your legs creak from the impact as you rise at once.

Your team is capable.

Your team was always meant to make a path, to give you a window of opportunity.

Darkness gobbles you up as you sprint ahead, disappearing into the unknown of the tunnel ahead.

Your feet are almost as loud as the rush of water and you try to visualise the path ahead of you.

A turn left and then another right will bring you to an open—

You bring your arm down with a ferocious snarl but an iron-like grip stills you before the blade can connect with flesh.

Your head slams against the tunnel wall, the blade in your hand trembling while the slim, pale fingers around your wrist tighten with numbing force.

The dim light above illuminates one side of an elegant, cold face. The male Lover looms over you like an angel, terrible and beautiful all at once.

“He told us you were fast,” he whispers, grinning.

You relax the grip on your blade, the cool metal sailing down, and catch it with your other hand, jerking it towards the man’s stomach but he stops you again, his grip equally as painful.

“But so am I,” he reveals, his grin stretching.

With a sneer, you kick him harshly in the knee, jerking your hands back as he stumbles away, the blade dropping to the ground. You hurdle yourself at him, not giving him time to recover.

But—

He is fast.

His blocks are lightning quick. He fends off your elbow, bending your arm harshly. You swipe another blade across his forearm, barely scratching him when he pulls back on time.

A punch. Block. Your blade slips again.

You twist from his grip, but he yanks you back to him. A swift blow follows but you block, your muscles straining under your skin.

Your arms wrap in each other, tangled, caught in a standstill, and you bare your teeth at him.

He just looks smug.

He’s too fast for you to use any weapons effectively. Too fast to even reach for any poisoned blades you have on you since you tend to keep them at a safe distance to avoid accidents.

Shoving him backward, you aim a kick towards his knee to redirect his attention.

He blocks again, ruthlessly efficient.

But using the momentary falter, your fingers wrap around his jacket and you use it to strike him in the throat. In reply, he slams his fist against the side of your temple. You react just fast enough to make his fingers skim over the skin instead, twisting to one side with a shaky stumble.

A punch that powerful would have knocked you out cold.

You swipe your leg to trip him but he meets you halfway, your knees knocking together harshly and yours quivers from a dull throb of pain, making you gasp.

His grin stretches further. He looks ecstatic.

“First time,” he notes calmly, his dark eyes flashing. “Since I’ve danced with someone who can keep up with me. I wonder if the Italian is half as fun as you are?”

Ice slides through your veins, mind, and quietens the roar in your chest. The fleeting panic at his raw strength and speed fades.

And

then

stillness.

Your head cracks against his. You don’t even feel the pain that follows, not really. He stumbles wildly and you punch him right in the face before grabbing his shiny golden hair and slamming your knee brutally in his face. Blood spills across those lovely porcelain features but there is nothing in your chest—nothing but a distant feeling of vicious gratification.

You pack all the strength in your body when your leg connects with his chest.

The male Lover stumbles backwards, falling, his features finally breaking away from the calm smugness and into something else.

You expect rage like last time but that’s not what you see.

A blade slips into your hand and you stalk towards him with every intention of splitting his throat open.

He thinks—

He thinks he has any right to even imply—

Your instincts prickle before you reach him and you lurch to the side, your blade meeting another.

The clang of metal is earsplitting.

Your arm doesn’t lower as you scowl at the figure in front of you.

Large, bright eyes glare at you with equal viciousness, an equal amount of contempt.

The female. Finally.

“How’s the arm?” you wonder, bored.

The noise she lets out is near animalistic and you pull back when she tries to bring her blade down. Hers is longer and heavier. A medium-sized hunting knife but the advantage is still yours.

Or it would be if—

You fall to the side clumsily, rolling, as you just barely avoid another kick to the ribs. A weak spot as far as they know.

The male and the female come to stand side by side as you straighten, glaring at them.

There’s a stretch of silence between you, nothing but the roar of water and grime of New York keeping you company.

The female’s broken arm is tightly bound to her body, leaving her with only one arm to use. She’s the weaker fighter too, her skillset laying in the explosion making from what you’ve learned.

He’s the strength and she’s the brains.

You’re beginning to understand why they’re so fearsome.

Winston called them rabid dogs. Staring at them now, you can’t help but mutely agree.

The man wipes the blood from under his nose, his tongue swiping lazily over his fingers. He’s grinning though, his teeth bloody and he looks almost manic.

“You exceeded our expectations,” he states as if you should feel proud of that but you try to subtly catch your breath instead, considering them. “We heard stories about you. The infamous Viper. They say you are one of the best, if not the best. But now—now, I know you're just like us. I was wrong to judge you so quickly. You, too, teach through pain. Like me and my beloved.”

He gently trails his fingers over the woman’s face and she leans into his touch. Her guard doesn’t drop though. She’s still glaring at you.

“You see this world through a broken lens,” he states softly, and his smile is almost pitying. “You know what it is to be broken and unwanted. But I’m afraid—”

You throw a blade you sneaked into your hand at him but a bullet hits you in the chest a second later. Dropping to the floor, you groan loudly, and the woman falls on top of you, her features distorting with rage.

She shot you.

“I’m going to carve you open, snake,” she hisses, clearly underestimating the depth of your injury. She raises her blade, bringing it down hastily. You catch it with your hand, the finely honed edges cutting into your gloved fingers and a harsh breath rattles from your chest. “There will be nothing left.”

She swears the last part in honeyed French and your expression hardens, your grip shuddering when she leans her entire body weight into it. She pushes closer; so close you can smell her, feel her warmth, and that’s when—

Gathering whatever little moisture you still have in your mouth, you spit at her and she jerks back instinctively. You rotate your joined hands, aiming for her neck.

Another pair of hands stop you only inches from the curve of her throat, the knife slipping and cool fingers wrap around your neck, yanking you to your feet. The female remains on the floor, wiping at her face while you wheeze, struggling for breath.

The male Lover slams you against the tunnel wall and then again. Your vision swims and your ears ring. His bloodied features blur in front of you. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? The fun is just starting.”

“Did you really think we didn’t know you were coming?” the female adds as she comes to stand behind her lover, smiling placidly. “Our guest of honour?”

The light above disappears.

The tunnel is enveloped in suffocating sort of blackness, endless and terrifying, in seconds.

Your heart stutters.

The grip on your throat loosens, then disappears.

“Where are you, viper?” the man wonders.

“Where are you, little snake?” the female coos, soft and mocking.

Stillness cracks and splinters inside your chest, something sharp and freezing rushing through your veins instead.

You gasp for breath, trying to locate them but their voices reverberate with the rush of water—

Water—

Underground.

“Are you lost, little snake?”

“Oh, dear. You are lost.”

“All alone. No one is coming for you here in this pit.”

The water is like a screech inside your head.

Your head being forced under; no air, no air, no air—

“You’re dead to the world.”

Your heart is hammering so fast it hurts, it hurts—

It’s tearing out of your ribcage.

A swift, brutal kick lands against the back of your knees.

You crumple to the ground with a cry of pain.

A weight settles on top of you, keeping you down.

You can’t breathe.

“I wonder if you taste sweet?” a male voice breathes against your ear, his voice warping between two different tones, accents, pitches. “Are you venomous all the way through, I wonder?”

A hot breath tickles against the shell of your ear.

Followed immediately by intense pain tearing through your left ear.

Your trash wildly, your limbs clumsy and panic-stricken, a tiny noise of agony escaping your quivering lips.

“Shh, shh,” a gentle voice that sounds like Kishi but not Kishi soothes followed by a delicate brush of fingertips against your cheek. “It’s just a little…cut. You’re special, you see. I’ve never met someone like you before.”

His voice is a faint melody against your fracturing senses.

You can’t see, you can’t breathe, something hot trickles down your ear and neck—

Blood. Your blood and you feel a scrape of cold metal against your skin again—

A flare of light—

Gunshots rip through the air—

The weight disappears and there’s indistinct shouting, followed by sounds of a struggle.

You force your limbs to twitch.

Water, water, water, in your mouth—

You can’t breathe.

Light flares again and you turn your head towards it, bleary-eyed.

Ares—

Ares is fighting the male Lover and—

No, no, no—he’s too fast for her. He's so fast. He’s like you—

You gasp, forcing air into your lungs.

You’re not in that pit. Kishi is not here.

Kishi is dead.

Kishi is dead because you killed him.

Your fingers slide down your suit, clumsy and shaking, but whatever they touch doesn’t seem to register.

“Stop your squirming,” the female spits and grabs you, moving her knife towards your throat. “Get up—”

You’re faster.

The vial smashes right against her forehead and you stagger back as she lets out a scream so loud, your ears ring. Her skins bubbles—an ugly, blistering red—and she covers her right eye, choking on her wails of agony.

Your pistol slams against the back of her head and she slumps towards the ground. You drop on top of her, your knee pushing against her spine. You aim—

“Shoot her and I snap her neck!”

You freeze. Your hand is shaking so badly it might have embarrassed you normally, but you feel the heat of your freshly spilled blood dripping down your neck and it makes you angrier. It wakes you up from your panicked haze.

Your head lifts slowly. The woman beneath you is sobbing, still clutching and scratching at her raw skin.

She will always be beautiful.

She will heal.

But she will never look into a mirror again without remembering you.

Nor will she ever see with her right eye again.

The male Lover is holding Ares in a chokehold and the sight of it makes your lips twist. The only light to be found in this darkness is from Ares’ fallen torch. Yet you can’t help but feel like the male Lover can feel your fury from where he’s standing even if he can't see you clearly.

Ares has her teeth grit tightly, jaw stubbornly clenched, but the moment she squirms, the man constricts his grip on her neck painfully. Her gas mask is missing and through the darkness you try to meet her eyes.

The male Lover jerks them closer towards the light and you press the barrel of the gun against his lover’s head.

“Don’t think I won’t,” you sneer, your voice hoarse and breathless with unbridled rage.

The man chuckles though with his features smeared with blood and hair a mess, he looks no better than you likely do. “Oh, I know you would. That’s why you’re so much fun,” he tells you and pulls Ares closer while she claws at his hands, drawing blood. He barely seems to notice. His frenzied stare is on you and you alone. “But why must you hurt my love so? What are you trying to teach us, viper? Tell me.”

You remain silent, breathing heavily. Your ear hurts more than you would care to admit.

“Tell me!”

It rips through the tunnel like a gunshot, echoing.

“Let her go,” you intone coldly, your words thin. “Or I will splatter your lover’s brain all over this grimy, shitty, good for nothing hellhole tunnel.”

His expression strains, his mouth quivering before he swallows and nods, regaining his composure. “A trade, then.”

The woman beneath you is still sobbing, her cries now more muffled and smothered, and you wonder if she even heard your threat.

Ares shakes her head angrily, tapping her fingers in Morse code against her thigh.

Kill him.

You yank the woman up by her golden hair and she tries to fight, tries to struggle, but you press the cool barrel against her temple and she stills.

“On three.”

He stares at you wildly. “Two.”

Your jaw clenches. “One.”

Two things happen simultaneously.

The woman in your grip jerks forward, striking her elbow into your stomach, effectively throwing your aim.

At the same time, Ares breaks free from her hold, slamming her body into the man behind her.

The female Lover doesn’t linger to fight. She uses your moment of pained confusion to dash into the darkened pathway behind you, leading her further into the sewer system.

You veer after her, firing twice, but your grip is too shaky and both shots miss.

Pivoting, you aim your pistol back at the male Lover only to find him right in front of you. His fist strikes your hand, your pistol sailing through the air, and you both crash against the wall again.

He holds your hands between you, the blade you had managed to grab just in time trembling between your bodies. His other hand rests against the curve of your throat.

Ares is on the ground, unmoving.

“What did you—”

“Don’t worry, now,” he reassures softly, his thumb tracing your pulse. “She’s just sleeping. Breaking her would be easy. But she’s unworthy—unlike you.”

Gritting your teeth, you shove the blade closer towards his stomach and his grip on your wrists tightens, his features going taut.

“Do you hate me, viper?” he wonders faintly with a tilt of his head, baring his teeth at you. “Let me teach you about hate.”

The hand around your throat loosens and you try to slam your forehead against his again but he leans back, tutting, “Not this again,” he comments, his voice dripping with disdain. “We can dance another time, you and I. It’s been so long since I had such a worthy partner. How does that sound?”

He pulls something from his pocket and—

Your heart sinks.

A detonator.

You could have written off their earlier comment as chance or a figure of speech, but this proves they had known.

Known that you were coming.

His finger caresses the button and his eyes flutter shut for a moment. You jerk the blade again, your forehead dripping with sweat but he only laughs under his breath.

His eyes flutter open, and he grins at you; a sharp, cutting thing. “What are you trying to teach me? What is your lesson?”

You say nothing, concentrating only on gutting him.

His smile fades at your silence.

He presses the button.

The tunnels rock at their very foundation and you hear the far away crash of stone and concrete.

The sound rushes in your direction, deafening, and your heart seizes.

“Ares!” you scream from the top of your lungs, your grip loosening but the male Lover only you watches you with wild interest. “Ares, wake up!”

She twitches.

“Ares!”

You trash in his hold, no longer caring about killing him.

You need to get out.

She needs to wake up and you need to run as fast as you can.

She blinks; once, twice.

“What lesson—”

You snarl at him, your words clawing up from deep within you, barely intelligible. “I’m going to destroy you, Lucien,” you choke out, and watch how his features slacken with utter shock. “I will destroy you and your girlfriend. I will bury you both.”

His real name. The name from his childhood you know only thanks to Step and the information he gathered.

Lucien’s grip slackens and you sink the blade deep into his gut.

He makes no noise of pain. He only stares at you, awestruck.

His fingers latch onto yours but instead of removing the blade, he presses your hands deeper, his blood spilling around your fingers before he moves to grab the side of your face. You cringe in pain, his blood-covered digits pressing against your injured ear and smearing against your cheek.

“We are bound, you and I,” he breathes in wonder, and you barely hear him over the sound of crumbling concrete that’s rushing ever closer. “We were forged by violence and we are now bound by it. We always will be.”

Lips twitching, you twist the blade in his gut and he staggers back, laughing, clutching at his wound. “Next time, then,” he concludes with another listless smile.

You step after him.

A loud crack.

Dust rushes into the tunnel and you throw yourself towards Ares instead.

She’s stumbling to her feet but—

Her eyes are wide when they meet yours.

If it goes wrong. You get out.

No matter what.

Your fingers latch onto her forearms.

And then you kick her right in the chest with whatever little strength you still have left, sending her in the opposite direction.

Dust drowns you.

You don’t resurface.

. . .

an: RUH ROH!

Ahhh, I hoped you guys liked this wild, wild mess of a chapter. We had a bit of everything! How are we feeling guys? Team John? You guys are finally starting to move in a positive direction! Team Ares?? Hello??? Team Santi?? I assume you’re all going off lol. And where is my TEAM V AT????

Ngl, this chapter exists solely because I wanted to write everyone just....being a badass?? I like writing about people being badass. You also got a glimpse into how, exactly, V works with Team Camorra. Together they form the far superior Team Pasta. Also the Lovers?? How did you guys like my murder children? This is far from last time we’re seeing them heh~~

As always, you are all so damn amazing, I’m so grateful for you all. Thank you for reading and supporting this series you amazing, wonderful people! Till next update!

#john wick #john wick x reader #santino d'antonio x reader #john wick fic #santino d'antonio #john wick imagine #keanu reeves #riccardo scamarcio #fic: children of ares

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