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flowering-thought · 9 months

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I told myself "maybe this will be the last part!" Clearly I was wrong-

Now if you haven't played TOTK or at least gotten spoilers for the story I wouldn't recommend reading this. In Ganondorfs' story, I intended to carry out as much of the plot as I could to prepare for the next part of the ideas I have. Dw, there will be a happy ending! Eventually..

So welcome to part three! Sit back, relax, prepare for drama and a rise in obsessive behavior <3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

WARNING - MINORS DNI

AFAB reader and reader is described as feminine and chubby/plus sized.

Yandere themes, spoilers for TOTK, slight imprisonment/isolation, violence, pregnancy, controlling behavior

Yandere Ganondorf x Archeologist Reader (part three)

Everything was perfect. You had grown so content being married to Ganondorf. He was so gentle with you and you loved seeing how warm he could be towards his people.

You knew that the other major village of the Gerudo was slightly sour about your union. After all, legends tell of a male being born every hundred years but they also have whispers about a curse of evil.

You were just glad that there hadn't seemed to be much fighting with the other major Gerudo village and that luckily everything seemed calm.

You loved bringing around your notebook, sketching the village's people and Ganondorf.

One morning he had asked about the scribbles in your notebook that accompanied your drawings and that may have been the catalyst for what was to come.

"These? They are my notes. My thought process is messy and unorganized at times and I don't like people being able to read my notes. It's like an inner look into my thoughts and it's scary to think someone can do that just by picking up a notebook of mine." You answered, returning to the notebook and looking up at your husband to continue sketching him. You loved how the light of dawn would look on his skin.

A part of him thought it was rational of you to create a code just for your notes. But the other part of him whispered and agonized his thoughts of what you could be hiding.

You only had three notebooks on the shelf in your shared room. The fourth you kept with you as it was still being written in as the days passed. He had never had an interest in them before but suddenly those thoughts of his made him anxious.

So one day when you were out roaming the village he picked up the first notebook and opened it. Sights of a village and tower with a large telescope sketched into its pages. And a young Hylian with an odd device around his waist appeared halfway through.

You then began to sketch through the travels, the monsters you saw, and the people you came across along the way, he saw many words repeated which he assumed to be names, and his brows furrowed at the frustration that came with not being able to decipher the code you created.

And then a misty forest scrawled through the pages, and a large tree with a kind face appeared. He thought there was no way such a thing could exist but then he saw the sword in the stone, and anxious characters drawn out in your notebook, small creatures gathered by the Hylian man that you accompanied on his adventures.

He noticed a map fall from the pages and noticed how different things were labeled in the usual Hylian text, including Gerudo Town. And a place called Kara Kara Bazaar. These places don't exist, so why would you create a false map? And the great plataue? And the kingdom of Hyrule in the middle of the central plains?

His heart raced as he looked through the pages, eventually going to the next notebook to look through the different sketches, needing to try and comprehend what your sketches were telling.

And midway through the second notebook he noticed you were celebrating Zeldas' return. As you sketched her and Hylian man that Ganondorf assumed to be reuniting.

And then tales of exploring caverns and different ruins, your sketches of places you got to see with Zelda and the Hylian man.

And the detailed sketch of a sword along with other writings.

And then came the third notebook. It was more details and sketches of people and what seemed to be plans of taking something back. And towards the end what seemed to be ominous clouds leaked out of a cave entrance.

And that was where the third ended.

He placed all notebooks back in their places, including the map into the first notebook.

He made it back to his study and shut the door, ordering everyone out. He sat on his chair and held his head in his hands, trying to understand the information he came across.

It was that moment when he started to watch you more closely as you wrote in your fourth notebook. He noticed you had a habit of mouthing the words you wrote.

You did it quite often at the end of the day when you would write whatever details you learned. But during the days when you were actively doing something you wrote without thought.

So he started to learn what you were mouthing, noticing each character you wrote and would write it down for later, figuring out each character and attempting to put it into everyday use so he could learn it a bit better.

And with that, he waited for another time when you would be out all day. He felt conflicted about sneaking around.

He wanted to ask you but at the same time, he couldn't handle it if you refused to tell him the truth.

And now he sat on the bed, your first notebook in his hands and he opened it up.

It took him a minute to slowly get the characters to line up in his mind and to apply it to the words but finally, he could figure it out.

He skipped to the midway section where the Hylian man showed up.

"One day I was headed up to the lab to see some man standing at the edge of the village where the lab is. Since the home my parents left me is in town I always stay there and make the trek upwards to the lab. Something doesn't feel right if I don't stay in my home. Like I'd be betraying my parents for leaving that home behind for another."

Ganondorf let himself breathe a bit, his mind berating him for thinking that something sinister could be going on. But he continued to read as he wanted to know more about you.

"The man told me his name was Link. He rarely talked but he at least told me his name! He mentioned something about needing to see Purah so I led him up to the lab. And that's where the commotion started. Turns out he's THAT Link!! The hero of Hyrule! The one that was a guard to Princess Zelda!"

"He held the Sheikah Slate on his belt too. And it was mind-boggling to know that he could travel with the use of it to other shrines that were dug up due to the calamity around 100 years ago. After some debate and worries about how Link will travel as he's lost his memories and everything, Purah let Link stay a night and told Link to stay with me for the night so she could adjust the machine that would update the Sheikah slate with some other features."

"She pulled me aside out of Links' view and asked me to accompany him on his journey. I thought it sounded ridiculous. I've never left Heteno Village. All my knowledge of the world was found in books and samples and everything I could get passed down by word of mouth as well. Wouldn't I just be deadweight to a well-trained soldier like Link?"

"But Purah told me that he's been asleep for a hundred years. That the Calamity took his memories and that waking in a world you hardly know is lonesome. And I understand that. To be lonely despite all these people claiming they know you. And for Link to be told he has to rescue someone he doesn't remember and to save a kingdom from Calamity despite not even remembering the kingdom itself."

"So I set out on the journey, assuring Link that when he would have to go after the four divine beasts I would stay behind and wait to not put any pressure on him to keep me safe."

Calamity? Divine beasts? What is happening? Ganondorfs' mind was spinning as he continued through the pages, your visits to the Zora and then the Rito, even the Gorons and the Gerudo people, a town with no men allowed and a girl he doesn't even know as chief.

He couldn't wrap his mind around it as he made it through the notebooks and then finally towards the end of the third notebook that details what you described as Gloom he decided he needed to get his hands on the fourth notebook.

Things were too much and he couldn't keep his anxiety at bay.

When you returned, you greeted him with a big smile, happily hugging him. "I've missed you so much recently! You seem so busy lately." You exclaim, happily sitting on his lap before leaving a kiss on his cheek.

He loved how affectionate you were, it nearly took away all his anxiety at that moment.

And his dark thoughts swayed and his intent to peak into your fourth notebook wavered.

You noticed his change in demeanor and looked up at him, you lifted your hands to hold his cheeks, forcing him to face you. You put your forehead against his and left a little butterfly kiss on his nose, "What's wrong Gan? You've been a bit off recently." you ask.

And how he wished he could just peer right into your mind without having to ask the questions he wanted to know. He wished he knew everything about you. Everything you weren't saying, every moment of your life he wished he had seen by your side.

And with that the question he had left his lips, "Who are you?" He asked, pulling away a bit to cup your cheek. He didn't have the heart to tell you he peaked into your notebooks and deciphered the code to them, he wanted to hear everything from your lips. You held his hand close as you looked into his eyes, trying to understand the meaning of his question.

He could see the frown form on your face and he could tell your mind was racing as the meaning of his question could only be one thing. He moved his thumb across your cheek as he waited for your mind to form words. "I'm the same person you met at the kingdom of Hyrule. I'm just..." He watched as you struggled to say the words you wanted to say, tears forming in your eyes as you leaned your head against his chest, "Please don't think I'm crazy. Don't leave me. Please listen without thinking of how bizarre this all sounds." You begged.

The sound of your voice when begging like that made his heart break. How your voice broke and how the tears rolled down your cheeks, he never wanted to see you in pain, so it was hard to hear. But he gave a hum of confirmation and you told him everything.

You told him you come from an Era where everything happening now is practically a legend of how the kingdom formed, that not much is known about this current Era, that something had happened while traveling and you grabbed Zelda before she fell into a cavern. And somehow she had taken you with her to the past.

He felt you weren't telling him everything. But at the time he understood why. It already sounded impossible to go to the past but the fact that Zelda is a descendant of the current King and Queen also explained the saying that Zelda was a distant relative.

You told him about Link and how he defeated the Calamity. And how you got to meet Zelda and how you were all trying to get the kingdom back on its legs for years until something started leaking out of the depths of Hyrule castle and infecting the people with illness.

But while you told him about the incident about falling and coming to the past, you didn't tell him about the mummy inside the depths. You didn't tell him that you suspected it was him. How could you? Nor did you tell him about the master sword, as a part of you wasn't sure how to explain it to him.

You had told him "everything", and he assured you that his love for you would not change. He held you until you fell asleep and tucked you in after some thinking on his part.

Just because his love for you would not change, doesn't mean he had any trust in others. He could tell you loved him. That you trusted him and believed in him and his capabilities to be a good leader. But he didn't trust anyone around you. If Zelda comes from the past she could figure out a way to bring you to the present again. To bring you back to your Era. He couldn't have that. And if Rauru and Sonia helped her get you back?

His mind raced and he reached for your fourth notebook. He needed to know the details you weren't telling him.

"Calamity Ganon has fallen and yet when we entered that cave and traveled to the past I felt just as stuck when Calamity Ganon was wreaking havoc. A mummy with long red hair and a hand that kept its power at bay. What could have happened? What could have caused such a thing to be underneath the castle? It doesn't make sense. So I'm going to research all I can about the Zonai while I'm here to figure everything out."

It detailed your time before Ganondorf had arrived at the castle. And then your first meeting.

"A Gerudo King called Ganondorf arrived today, a meeting for peace and prosperity. At first, I thought it was a coincidence. The name was all too familiar to a certain monster that plagued Hyrule for 100 years. And yet the mummy we saw bears a resemblance to him. Long red hair and piercing eyes. The jewelry it wore also looked similar."

"But how would such events occur? And he seemingly knew Link and Zelda! He talked about the master sword as well! But never called my name. Or did he even know I was there? Things aren't making sense and I'm afraid of what could happen. Yet I don't want to see the Gerudo suffer either. It seems as though his warriors admire him yet something about Ganondorf seems too ambitious to see exactly how much he is loved."

More entries later, he comes across your thoughts about marriage to him.

"Everyone is advising me to turn down the offer of marriage. I understand why. But I want to change things. Maybe I can stop whatever happens in the future now. While Ganondorf does bear a resemblance to the mummy in that cave and I can't confirm or deny anything, I have this urge to at least try. Plus the Gerudo people are suffering! I can understand the hatred in his heart when his people have to struggle in the desert when it seems as though the Hylian people don't suffer through the same trials they do."

He read it all and it clicked. He had to continue with his plan even if it meant upsetting you.

You wanted to change the future. You wanted to stay with him and keep him safe. You wanted him and also wanted to protect the people of this land. So shouldn't he try to change the future for you?

He needed that secret stone. With that he'd have enough power to make sure nothing could stop him, and that nothing could dare to get between you, not even Zelda or anything called time.

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You awoke to the sight of an empty bed. It's odd because Ganondorf is always by your side with a smile on his face. After the conversation last night, your eyes were slightly puffy and you had a small headache.

Not to mention you felt sick to your stomach.

As much as you wanted to lay in bed and laze around you had the feeling you'd need to find Ganondorf and talk more about the future. You wanted to assure him that even if Zelda found a way back you wouldn't go. That you'd stay with him.

So you got up and got dressed, you looked around for Inesa, as normally she would come to wake you and Ganondorf up if you both were having a lazy morning. But she wasn't anywhere to be found.

You walked to the doors of your bedroom, reaching for the handle only to find that the door wouldn't open.

Your eyes widened and your heart began to race, you tried to keep calm but something in you felt as though something was wrong so you began to push on the doors, trying hard to get out but nothing was happening.

"Your majesty?" a voice came from the other side of the door and the doors opened, two guards on each side and Inesa stood in the middle.

"Inesa? Why is the door being held closed? Has something happened?" You asked, your heart beating far too loud in your ear for your liking.

Inseam glanced at the guards before leading you back into the bedroom. The guards closed the door behind you two, and she sat you down on your bed. "His Majesty has decided to visit the King and Queen of Hyrule. He set out before dawn, so I suspect he's already made it by now." She stated, her eyes showing concern as she watched your features to see how you'd respond.

You quickly got up, Inesa had already started on about how there was nothing to worry about but you couldn't hear her, you searched your bedside table for your most recent notebook only to find it missing. You then quickly searched the shelves and your first notebook. You found the map but it wasn't in the place where you had put it. You put it at the end of the notebook. You did that because it had significance and yet it was in the pages near the middle.

You felt even more sick now. Your head was pounding and you could feel your heart beating uncontrollably. You felt nauseous but also dizzy, reaching out to hold yourself up against your desk but you couldn't find the strength.

Inesa watched you faint, barely managing to catch your head before you hit the ground. She hurriedly called the guards and demanded one of them to bring a healer.

Somehow you had pieced together what Ganondorf was doing and Inesa was hoping you wouldn't. She was ordered to keep you in the bedroom and lie to you, yet somehow she couldn't bring herself to lie. She should have lied so you wouldn't be in such distress.

After you fainted you found yourself waking up on the bed, Inesa and an older Gerudo woman who you had seen healing the wounded before sitting by your side.

Inesa glanced at your face and smiled upon realizing you were awake.

"Oh thank the goddess you're awake. The healer said it was due to stress that you collapsed." She said, holding your hand gently in her own before the healer stood up to feel your head and check your pulse.

"You really need to keep yourself calm, it's not good to be too stressed out, especially in your condition." She stated.

You sat up carefully and looked to your side, looking at the older woman with curiosity written all over your features. "Ah I'm assuming you didn't know? Well it's still early I doubt even the morning sickness has started yet." She said, looking over your features once more before nodding as though confirming to herself once more.

"You're with child little vai. Considering the whole palace and many of the people in the village know of the loud and passionate nights that you and his majesty share its no wonder you've already fallen pregnant. Thought it's good for a man to not be able to keep his hands off his wife no?" She stated.

She left some herbs on your desk and instructed Inesa on how to prepare them for you as it might be better for you to take extra care of your body for the coming months.

You sat there in shock, your hand going to your belly as you hunched over and tried not to cry.

What were you going to do? Ganondorf was undoubtedly going to do something you couldn't stop, something you didn't even know the plans about. You wanted to stop what was going to happen in that cave but what if you caused it?

And now you were with his child? You felt sick. But you also knew you needed to warn Zelda. Ganondorf was probably trying to look for something inside Hyrule castle under the guise of wanting to ensure peace. But you needed to somehow get out of the palace without anyone noticing.

You couldn't even fathom how to get out. You stood up and looked out the windows to Gerudo Canyon. You'd have to make it through there as fast as you could or else there'd be no chance.

As you glance over the palace and at the stables, wondering about how to quickly make your way without running into anyone. But as you looked out the window and took your time to think as night fell and the stars came out, you could see a sudden beam of red light in the distance, the clouds in that section turning a red hue as the same dark light that emitted from the caverns of Hyrule castle had shown themselves for the first time in this Era.

Your heart dropped as you watched, knowing that it had finally happened. You had no choice but to run. Something horrible was going to happen.

You gathered a few clothes and shoved them in a bag, bringing your notebooks as they were the start of this mess. You would need to burn them when you get the chance.

You'd have to escape early morning so you waited, listening by the door for when the guards would go on break or have a change in shift. And when you finally heard the telltale signs of the guards leaving you tested to see if the door would open and smiled when they did.

You quickly made your way through the halls, hiding in rooms or behind pillars if you heard or saw anyone before they saw you. And when you finally made it to the throne room of the palace where the grand entrance to the village sat, you nearly collapsed at the sight of Ganondorf standing there, a secret stone embedded in his forehead and a frown on his features as though he was waiting for you.

"I hoped it wouldn't happen but a part of me knew you wouldn't be happy with the sudden changes." He claimed, approaching you carefully. Your hands tightened on the strap of your bag, taking a step back.

"What have you done Ganondorf?" You asked, your voice wavering. He only shook his head at your stubborn actions, keeping still so you wouldn't try to run past him yet.

"I did what I had to do my love. They would have taken you from me. They would have used the power of their secret stones to trap me away. And you and I would never get to meet again. I won't allow what happens to happen. So isn't it obvious I need to destroy and rebuild so none of what happened in your time will never come to pass." He stated, saying those words as though it was a necessity.

You felt sick, your hand coming down to your stomach as you thought of who he could have killed. It couldn't be Zelda, right? But who on earth did he?

You felt dizzy as you leaned against the wall for support, keeping your other hand out as a way to try and keep Ganondorf away.

He was surprised at your sudden state. He knew the news would shock you but not to this extent. It wasn't until Inesa happened upon the scene and quickly came to your aid.

"Your majesty! What are you doing up? You only collapsed yesterday you need to rest." She scolded. She noticed the tension but her main concern was your health. Tears filled your eyes as your knees gave out, your hand covering your lips as you struggled to stifle the sobs your throat wanted to scream.

Inesa may hold fear towards Ganondorf but she didn't want to see you like this so she stood up between you two, holding her arm out as though to shield you, "Your majesty, please understand that I mean no disrespect but her majesty collapsed yesterday you see. She is under a lot of stress and it isn't good especially considering her condition. Please permit me to escort her back to her quarters.".

Ganondorf didn't want some maid getting in the way of talking to you, but he could see how your shoulders shook and how much you mourned and so he allowed it, watching as you were gently led away to the bedroom.

He called over another maid, asking to bring the healer to him. He had no doubt that if you collapsed the healer would know about your condition.

And when not even fifteen minutes later Ganondorf came barreling through your bedroom doors with worry and excitement you knew it would be impossible to escape.

You watched as he drew closer to the bed, kneeling next to where you lay and putting his hand over your stomach.

You wanted to forget. A part of yourself wanted to live not knowing of what Ganondorf had done and just bury yourself into his arms. But you couldn't. You couldn't live in foolish ignorance like that.

You turned your head away from him, trying to think of other ways you could get out of his grasp. You needed to make sure Zelda was alright, you needed to help in any way you could.

Ganondorf felt hurt but held back, knowing that you could get even more upset due to the state you were in. So he merely relished in how you allowed him to be by your side and he hoped that in the coming months that you would be in a more fragile state he would get you to love him as he took care of you.

But unfortunate for some, one maid who still held the sight of you holding back sobs would overcome her fear of the very King she served.

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Inesa took the time to watch for a week of the new schedules the guards were put on and how Ganondorf acted around you.

She watched as you struggled to look at him and how at night you would wander your bedroom, pacing back and forth as you looked to Gerudo Canyon, past its vast mountains, and to the plateau where another kingdom lie.

So she kept watch and one night when Ganondorf was rushed with planning and preparation to take down the kingdom of Hyrule she woke you up, watching as you sat up and looked at her curiously.

"Come. I'm going to get you out of here." She claimed, a bag already packed of your things and clothes, another with hers and rations to keep you both satisfied through the trip.

You gave her a look of worry, not expecting Inesa to help you as you thought she would always follow Ganondorfs' rules and conditions. But you shook your worried thoughts from your head and nodded, taking her hand as you both began to run through the palace, finally coming to the stables where the horses and sand seals lay.

She got the horse ready and you thought for a moment before you started undoing all the stable locks, setting the horses and sand seals free so it would take a bit longer for them to realize what horse was missing and also cause enough chaos to let you leave.

Inesa held you in front of her on the horse and informed you that you would be taking a different route than usual, not wanting to get caught yet.

She went as fast as she could watching over your features to check for discomfort. And luckily you managed to keep mostly calm as you and Inesa rode through Gerudo Canyon.

And when you had finally made it out of the canyon you told Inesa to go elsewhere, to the temple you knew as the forgotten temple was undoubtedly the place they would go in times of war and tragedy.

It took extra time to get there, and you constantly worried about the chance of Ganondorf catching you. The fear of what he would do not only to Inesa but to hyrule stuck in your mind.

But as you reached the temple, the sight of Mineru speaking with one of the sages made you tear up, Mineru was surprised by your approach, her eyes sorrowful as she opened her arms. You quickly jumped off the horse, ignoring Inesas' worries, and leaped into Minerus' arms, crying as suddenly Zelda came into the picture.

Zelda looked just as sad until she saw you, quickly taking you into her arms before glaring at Inesa.

But you assured that without Inesa you wouldn't have been able to escape.

And after making sure you were okay, eventually, you were told that Sonia was dead.

The news saddened you more than you thought, a feeling of shock and despair running into you like waves. You couldn't help but sob at the revelation, which eventually led to her grave where a sundelion lay.

You came across Rauru and apologized, his sorrow written all over his features as he embraced you, glad that at least you were safe.

And then the planning of a fight began.

But as things were revealed and intentions laid bare, Ganondorf had nearly destroyed the palace, his rage uncontrollable at the fact you were gone.

How could you? How could you leave him? He knew you wanted peace, but peace was something foolish! He needed to destroy this world and create it anew. He wanted it for you and himself and the new life growing within you born from the love that you and he shared.

With a world where only someone as strong as him could keep you safe and sound, keep you fed and healthy and protected. Where only those who shared his ideals would thrive.

And yet one maid ruined it by bringing you out of his reach.

His anger knew no bounds as he finally prepared for another battle. He'd kill that foolish King and Zelda that could take you away. He'd make you realize you only had him. That you will stay by his side and love him just as you did when you cried and begged him to not call you crazy at the confession of where you came from.

And so a drawn-out battle began, many Gerudo villages falling and many citizens of Hyrule falling in the crossfire. It had only been two weeks and Ganondorf was proving that his power was far too strong and overwhelming.

You tried to think of ways to get him off gaurd, or to persuade him! But you kept having doubts and worries, and finally, when a battle was agreed upon in the depths of the central plains, you overheard the conversation between Rauru and Zelda.

The confirmation of Ganondorf as the man they found in the cave and the worry of what would happen to Rauru and the sages.

Upon hearing the conversation you couldn't help but feel like you were at fault. But another part of you wondered if such a thing was fate? That time was rewound but perhaps it was destined to happen?

That maybe the goddess Hylia gave us this chance to change the outcome of the future hoping that Link could overcome Ganondorf.

You followed Zelda to the final battle, knowing that you were nothing but a hindrance as you could not fight you stayed at the back of the army, helping tend to wounded soldiers and hoping that the rest could manage to fend off Ganondorf.

But something felt off. You couldn't shake off the feeling that something was about to happen. Your intuition was screaming at you to run, to warn Zelda and the rest.

So you did want any fool would do, you ran down the steps leading to the depths, running as fast as you could without the risk of falling, finding that the sages and Rauru were at their limit you screamed-

"Ganondorf!". The single use of his name was enough for him to turn around, and without a second thought the sages hurled their weapons at the Demon King. He brushed them off with annoyance, Zelda using her power of time to make them rush back at him before he lost his temper.

"I've seen this all before! And now-" He shouted, expecting Rauru at his front but unexpectedly Rauru appeared below him, just out of sight to deal a blow to his gut, Rauru's power and third eye unleashed then and there, overwhelming the Demon King.

"You bind my heart and steal my magic? You plan to hold me here like a fool to solve your problems... But are you ready to pay the price for this?"

Rauru smirked, determination lacing his tone, "Don't be so smug, I know exactly what it will cost me.".

You held your hands together, the sorrow of realizing what was happening as the scene in front of you unfolded. Zelda crying out Raurus' name, you couldn't move, stuck in place as you watched history unfold.

Ganondorf laughed, a large smile etched on his face, "Thousands of years will pass in the blink of an eye. You'll only delay the inevitable.".

But Rauru's brows furrowed and he stood his ground, "Years from now someone will appear with the sword that seals the darkness. A swordsman with the power to defeat you - Link."

"Remember this name."

Ganondorfs' eyes widened at the familiar name, his interest peaked at everyone's confidence in a mere Hylian.

Ganondorf was reminded of your journey with him and smiled, "Interesting... I look forward to meeting him..." He groaned out, struggling as he was finally sealed.

The light of his power dimmed and his body frozen in time, all his power taken. And Rauru's eyes dimmed, his final action as the founding King of Hyrule settled as his life was taken only to seal Ganondorf away.

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You and Zelda remained at the temple of time. You weren't sure what was to happen next, both you and Zelda mourning and comforting each other inside the temple.

You held your hand over your stomach, your heart aching at all the events that unfolded.

It was likely you would never see Ganondorf or Link and Purah, or let your child know the joys of the things you wanted them to know of the home you grew up in or the journey you went on.

You felt lost.

You and Zelda were in the temple of time when Zelda acted strange. You watched as she started going to the alter outside, as though being called by something.

"Zelda? What's happening what are you doing?" You asked, following her to the alter which glowed with the familiar light you saw only once when you and Zelda were brought back in time.

You watched as Zelda put her hands out, sensing something you couldn't as time turned before your eyes, and suddenly the decayed form of the master sword appeared in her hands.

You came close, startled by the sudden sight of the sword. That must mean that Link is okay! You smiled at the sight of the sword but Zelda looked solemn, something clicked in her mind that you didn't know.

"I know why I am here." Zelda claimed, her features full of determination.

She told you to stay there in the temple of time, quickly rushing off to who knows. But you stayed still, glancing at the altar before putting your hand down on the stone.

It was warm from the sun. You wondered why the master sword was sent back in time, why Zelda suddenly seemed so sure of what was to come.

Within the next day Zelda returned, you had slept inside the temple, sure that Zelda would return soon.

She laid the master sword on the altar and held the Purah pad in her hands, entrusting the item to a part of Mineru's spirit and then handing it to a helper construct.

You couldn't understand what was happening. Zelda had told you to stand at the front where the sword lay, telling you she was going to restore the master sword but she never told you how.

You watched as she stood in front of the sword, you staying by her side in front of the hilt of the blade.

"Link.. I will restore the master sword for you. I will care for it until the time comes. I will pour my power into it and it will be the weapon that defeats the Demon King." She stated.

You watched as she took the secret stone from her necklace, anxiety pooling inside your stomach at the sudden action.

You didn't understand until she spoke again, "You must..."

And suddenly she swallowed the stone, you took a step back, and the memory of Mineru discussing dragonification entered your mind, you covered your hand over your mouth in shock.

The skies turned grey and Zelda's power showed itself, the light coming off of her body enough to blind you, her power enhanced and she grasped the master sword before turning to you, a sorrowful look in her eyes as she pushed you, your back facing the ledge as you were pushed off, the similar light that enveloped you and brought you to this Era wrapped you once again.

And then you understood. To recover the master sword.. To send you back to warn Link.. Just before Zelda loses herself due to the overwhelming power and eternal life that would heal the master sword, she sent you back with the sudden enhancement of her power due to eating the secret stone.

Your body disappeared into a whirl of light and Zelda held the sword in a hug, looking to the sky, "Link! Protect them all!".

Those words you heard as time turned forward, tears spilling as your consciousness once again faded.

In the center of Lookout landing, among the newly appointed four sages and Link who discussed entering Hyrule castle with Purah, a sudden flash of light appeared, the familiar light made Link run.

While he knew it wasn't Zelda by the figure he still ran, catching you before you hit the ground. Your familiar sleeping face, your eyes slightly puffy still, and unfamiliar garbs.

Link was just glad to see one of you alive and held you close, his brows furrowed as he hugged you and then brought you to a place where you could rest inside of lookout landing.

Entering Hyrule Castle with the four sages would have to wait. He had to see what was going on first, as the tears and memories he picked up were yet to be complete.

He watched your sleeping figure and let out a small sigh, looking out the window of Purahs' room in Lookout landing and wondering where could Zelda be...

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere male #yandere male x reader #chubby reader #yandere totk #yandere totk x reader #yandere tears of the kingdom #yandere loz #yandere legend of zelda #yandere ganondorf x reader #yandere ganondorf #ganondorf x reader

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littlelioncub43 · 2 years

Text

Whispers and Declarations

Summary: Dennis is on the phone when he realizes something big.

Pairing: Dennis Baker x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY minors DNI), fluff, dom!Dennis Baker, glimpses of dark! Or yandre!Dennis Baker, romantic notions, squirting, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex in an established relationship, creampie, rough, intense sex, Dennis being obsessed with Reader and letting it show, size kink, pain kink, Dennis being pussy whipped in the best way possible, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word count: No idea, I wrote this on my phone, but she's lengthy!

A/N: As my many other posts have stated: I feel so good about this one, you guys! It feels so much more coherent and articulate and I can't wait to hear what you guys think! This was intense for no other reason than I wanted it to be. I hope you love it, and may we all find our Dennis 🥰🫂💖

Kisses 💋

—K

Part 1

"Hey, boss, can I call you back? Something came up."

The deep vibration of his voice sent a shiver through you, his gaze was set on yours and much more alluring than before. You chewed your lip as Dennis hung up the phone and tossed to the other couch without a thought.

"Come here, sweetheart," he rasps quietly, his hand beckoning you up his body. You crawl up the length of him as he sits up, settling you into his lap. Two big hands hold your head tenderly, almost as if you might break with the slightest pressure.

Dennis takes his time, drinking in the beautiful creature before him. He still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you were his, you wanted him, you loved him. His breathing hitches slightly, his gaze still dancing across your features. When your soft hands slide up his arms to rest on the backs of his own, Dennis draws in a deep breath.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?" He mutters while staring intensely, his voice was a whisper but his words echoed in your head like he screamed them at the top of his lungs. You feel your face heat up slightly at his words, your gaze breaking from his for a moment but Dennis isn't having it. "Look at me."

"Yes," you whisper back when your eyes meet once more. And it's true, you know how much he loves you, it's nearly as much as you love him. You see the muscles in his jaw tighten, the grip on your head tightens softly too. Dennis takes another deep breath, this one much more intense than the first sigh.

"Do you know what I'd do for you?" His voice is strained as he reigns in all the feelings swarming in his chest. You lick your lips and Dennis glances at your enticing lips hungrily. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

At this point, you know he's not expecting an answer. His eyebrows pinch together as he tries to desperately convey everything he feels. He takes one hand and guides it to his chest. You feel the erratic thumping of his heart, the pounding rhythm was accented by the slight heave of his chest as he begins to pant. Your own breathing was deepening to a quick pace.

"Do you feel what you do to me?" He gasps as he presses your hand to the front of his grey sweatpants. The straining erection throbs at the contact of your hand, Dennis's thighs twitching with delight. He holds your hand to him, his hips naturally pushing up to meet you.

"Yes," you sigh. Your jaw hangs open at his actions. You never dreamed in a million years that your sweet, shy, little Den could be so intense. Your hand grips the outline of his cock gently, the action has Dennis grunting.

"I love you so fucking much," he growls before claiming your mouth. If you thought his words were intense, they're nothing compaired to his kisses. You mewl into his mouth as he pulls you deeper and deeper into him. His hand leaves your wrist to wrap his arm around your waist completely, trapping you in his lap.

It's almost a blur from then. One moment you're nestled on the couch, the next he has you hoisted up in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist securely. Your back hits the cushy springs of your mattress followed by Dennis hovering above you.

"Dennis," you moan in awe against his lips as he cages you underneath him. The sound of his name rolling off your tongue is music to his ears, that's all he wants to hear for the rest of his life, but he'll settle for the rest of the night for now.

Dennis uses your little moan as a moment to slip his tongue deeper into your mouth. Normally he'd resign to your dominance, but right now he's on a mission. You sigh a pleased little moan when he takes over the kiss, your hands carding through his hair to mess up the neatly combed strands.

The little squeak you give him breaks his resolve. Dennis pulls your clothes off with a vigor he hasn't felt before. When he finally peels your soaked panties from your core, he curses under his breath. He spends a moment staring at the dripping honeypot between your luscious thighs.

"D-Dennis!" You moan as he suddenly engulfs you, his mouth covering your entire sex eagerly. Moaning deep in his throat, Dennis lets himself feast on you. His tongue moves in bold actions, collecting every drop of your juice before burrowing into your folds. Your legs tremble around his head, further encouraging Dennis's motions.

Your hands claw at his hair, using it to hold him to you while you writhe. He hums happily at the sting at his scalp, his grip on your thighs tightening to keep you open to his attacks. When his lips wrap around your clit, you know you're about to break.

"Dennis! Baby! So close!" You whine for him, your eyes rolling back as the tension builds and builds in your core. A throaty groan is your response from your sweet lover, his hands shifting to pull your heat against his face, your lower half nearly completely off the bed. Flattening his tongue, he thrashes his head side to side wildly. "F-Fuck! M'coming! Dennis!!"

That's what he wanted to hear.

He moans as loud as he can into your pussy, the vibrations pushing you head first into one of the best orgasms you've ever had. Your back arches as you ride the crest of your release, hips wiggling uselessly against Dennis's soaked face.

The moment you cum, Dennis is drinking it up like a man who's been in the desert. Not a single drop was left behind as Dennis licks you clean, the sticky sweet essence was addictive. With one last tongue-filled kiss to your cunt, Dennis releases you to the bed. You gasp for breath, your body was wrung out like a sponge and from the look in his eyes, Dennis was nowhere near done with you yet.

With shaky hands, he tore off his own clothes. The relieved hiss he let out when his hot erection met the cool air of the room left goosebumps on your skin. Kicking off his sweats and boxers to the floor, Dennis drapes himself over you once more and you welcome him with open arms.

"Holy shit, Dennis that was fucking incredible," you purr before he conquers your mouth once more. The taste of your cum has your head spinning and your body burning for more. Each word only adds to the pride pooling in his chest, he sucks on your lower lip before releasing it with a 'pop.'

"I need you so bad," Dennis confesses as he manhandles you into position. Tucking one leg up and over his hip, he presses on your inner thigh to hold you open for him. He looks down to watch his cock slide across your folds in short quick motions as he coats himself in your slick.

Dennis tries to catch his breath but finds it nearly impossible, and so do you. You whimper each time his thick tip nudges against your clit. He pushes his hips flush with your ass, resting his cock against your skin— showing off how big he was compared to you.

You try to speak but the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a sweet moan of his name, but thats all that Dennis needs to hear. Guiding himself to your throbbing hole, Dennis grips your jaw in one hand.

"Look at me, baby," he whispers gruffly. He makes sure your eyes on focused on his before he slowly pushes into you. He can't stop his own choked moans as he fills you inch by inch. The way your supple flesh gives as he works his cock into you is divine.

You let out your own fluttery moan as you feel him plunge deeper and deeper. You swear on everything holy that you've never felt so full in your entire life. When you think he's bottomed out, another few inches slide into you. Just more and more and more and more until you think you'll burst at the seams.

Finally, you meet the end of him, his pelvis pressed snuggly against the juicy curve of your ass. Your hands claw at the meat of his unfairly musclar shoulders as you both pant into each other's mouths.

"D-Dennis!" Your voice is thin and thoroughly fucked out.

"I know, I know, Jesus fucking Christ, I know," he groans and releases your jaw to hold your thigh open. He wastes no time drawing his hips back slowly, forcing you to feel every inch slide out of you until his thick mushroom tip is all that's left. Then in one hard movement, he stuffs you to the brim once more, forcing a yelp of from your open mouth. He does it again and again, each intense thrust knocking the air from your lungs deliciously.

You've never been fucked like this before.

"Feel me inside you? Feel how fucking deep I am?" He grits out, a darkness taking hold of him as he stares down at you. "I know you can, I know you'll feel me for days afterwards too."

You babble a response and hold on for dear life as he speeds up, keeping his nearly punishing pace. The bite of your nails in his shoulder make Dennis's head spin.

"Need you to feel it, baby," he grunts, "need you to feel how much I fucking love you." Dennis loses all control, his hips snapping on their own accord and his hands clawing at your flesh hard enough to bruise. One particular thrust sends his head straight into your g-spot. You feel like you're being electrocuted in the best possible way. Dennis can't help but smirk.

"Dennis! Oh my God!" You scream and toss your head back, surrendering to his actions happily. The bed slamming into the wall violently in perfect time with his viciously passionate thrusts accent your screams.

"Do you feel it?!" He shouts between your wanton moans, opting to attack your bared throat. He sinks his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, staking his claim over you. "Do you fucking feel it?!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" You chant over and over, your second orgasm already threatening to wash over you. It was going to be big. You hear Dennis curse into the sweaty skin of your neck before kissing up to your ear.

"I'm going to fucking marry you," he confesses darkly, his words slurring slightly, he sounds drunk. "I'm going to make you my wife," he brings an uncoordinated hand to your clit, rubbing rough circles on your little nub to push you closer to the edge, "never gonna let you leave me, I'd die for you, I'd kill for you—Holy shit, I fucking love you! Can never get enough of you!"

It's the conviction in his voice that shows he means every single word. You feel overwhelmed by it all, but, fuck, if you don't love it. You don't even get the chance to warn him before you're tumbling over the edge once more. The stuttering in-take of breath you wheeze into Dennis's ear tells him that you're going to cum. He pops his head up to watch your face intently.

"That's it! Cream on my cock! Make a fucking mess!" He encourages through gritted teeth as he fights back his own end.

The rubber band in the pit of your stomach draws tighter and tighter until it finally snaps. It feels like a tsunami crashing down on you, your limbs shake in Dennis's hands as you soak him. You can faintly hear his dirty words of encouragement over the ringing in your ears as your walls constrict around him. Your body relaxes as you finally start to come down, but soon sensitivity shoots through your core.

"You fucking squirted," he moans reverently, his pace not once slowing down. You give him a whine, but he's quick to soothe you, "shhhh shhhh I know, I know, but you gotta give me one more, give me one more!"

He leaves no room for arguments as he doubles down and lifts you leg over his shoulder. You whimper and cling to him desperately, only stoking the fire in Dennis's bones. He groans harshly with each stroke, his lips finding yours once more in a sloppy kiss.

It doesn't take much more for him to bring you back to the edge, your pussy both screams and sings with sensitivity and pleasure. You tremble and your eyes sting with tears, everything just felt so good.

"Dennis! I-I love you!" You whimper into his mouth, he greedily swallows your words. The sweet sound of your voice has the pleasure in Dennis's bones doubling. He gives you a pained moan in response, his eyes squeezing shut as he begins to get lost. "I love you, Dennis! I'm gonna cum! M'gonna cum for you, baby!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Fucking cum!" He bellows with excitement, he needs you to cum before he does. Thankfully, the messy roll of his hips grind right into your clit and you're done for.

With a wordless scream, you cum around him for one last time. Dennis peels his eyes open to watch you release again. He'll never get tired of seeing how your face twists, or the cute crease of your eyebrows furrowing, how your beautiful lips part while you scream for him, the way your eyes stay on his as long as possible before rolling back in your head.

Dennis's own face contorts, eyes crossing and rolling, his body going rigid. You smile briefly when you feel him twitch deep inside you.

"Yes, do it! Do it!" You breathlessly cry, your tears falling down the sides of your face and into your hair. "Cum for me, Den!"

And Dennis is done for.

"A-Aaaah! FUCK!" He cries, "take it, take it, take it!" He whines, reverting back to his desperately needy ways. You both writhe together, milking each other for all you're worth. Constant moans pour from your mouths as Dennis slowly comes to a stop, finally resting on top of you. He rests his entire body weight on you, too spent from the intensity of everything to hold himself up.

Carefully, he eases your leg down from his shoulder, caressing the tender flesh of your thigh as he moves you. You feel lazy pecks being dusted along the curve of your neck and shoulder, each one was chaste and sweet, soothing out the bites and hickeys Dennis left behind in a fit of passion.

Your eyes droop heavily with exhaustion. Slowly circling your arms around his neck, you hold your sweetheart to you. Dennis smiles when he feels your hug and immediately returns it, tucking you in underneath him even more.

"I'm gonna keep you forever," he whispers, his voice breathy and hoarse from shouting. More kisses rain down on your sweaty skin, lulling you deeper into the tiredness that crept into your bones. You're about to speak but Dennis beats you to it. "Shhhhhhhhh just sleep, I'll take care of you."

You do as he says and let sleep pull you away while you listen to his now steady breathing.

"I'll always take care of you."

Part 1

I no longer have a taglist! If you wish to stay up-to-date on when I post, follow @littlelioncub-library 💖

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

#dennis baker x reader #dennis baker x you #dennis baker x female reader #dennis baker imagine #dennis baker #dennis baker x fem!reader #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans #little lion literature

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pastel-omegas-blog · 1 year

Note

Yohoo, you might know me as one of the people that wanted Leon as a harem member 😅 Can I request? If that's all right?

How would the others react to MC and Leon being lovey dovey? Like, MC and Leon being happy and such

Ooooh hi💖💖

You were the one who led me to do the other au for Dearly Detested

No problem.

All art used here does not belong to me. I used a picrew to create Alvar's face claim and the rest were found on pinterest.

Others reacting to Leon being lovey dovey with s/o.

⚠️Warning ⚠️ Mentions of obsessiveness and yandere tendencies and slight sexual themes

I'll be using Leon's harem members since you didn't specify which characters.

Alvar

During one of his secret walks in the more hidden gardens of the holy temple, he spots the two omegas together by mistake.

The recessive alpha is terrified at first when he sees Leon and m/n together.

Is even even more frightened when he sees Leon looking at him with such tender eyes and placing small kisses on his cheeks and hands.

Genuinely believes that the ' devil ' inside M/N somehow managed to put a love curse on his beloved lilly

He tries to not act immediately and tries to gather 'evidence' to accuse M/N of black magic and mind control, because he truly believes Leon is under some kind of spell.

Because that has to be the only someone like Leon, who is blessed by the gods and is gifted with such a pure and kind heart would ever associate with M/N.

A man known through out the whole of Trovia as the vessel of a demon lord that fell out of the heavens. The only way someone like Leon would willing associate with a ' stained ' man like is if he was brain washed.

Is level headed most of the time. If you can ignore his stalking

He does the investigation himself so he won't draw attention towards Leon. His precious doesn't need any negative attention. After all it's not his fault that evil man brainwashed him.!

Refuses to believe that maybe Leon might actually just like the mc and does not acknowledge that he's in denial about it

Of course, because of his internal jealousy towards watching his precious treat the discarded Emperor so gently, its not before he exposes himself.

He does so, when he stalks protectively follows the two to a secret forest and watch the two of them have a sweet picnic together.

Leon is being his caring and gentle self. Feeding baked desserts and sweets to his h/c darling while peppering his face and cheeks with small kisses, a deep purr rumbling contently in the larger omega's chest as he buried his face into the other's neck. And in return to his lover's gestures M/N can't stop the giddy giggles that leave his lips as he lets Leon do whatever he wants. Letting out happy chirps in return to the other's purr.

Their scents wrap into each other creating a warm, sweet and homey scent. The sight would have made even those who had hearts made of stone melt at the cuteness of it.

But Alvar found himself growing unreasonably angry for some reason.

Blinded by rage, the snow haired man walks out from his hiding spot behind a tree. The sudden flare of harsh phermones in the air and a strong månå presence around , gives the two omegas a huge fright.

And before the recessive can even start accusing the h/c man of using black magic on his love, Alvar finds himself nearly losing his head.

The moment he stepped out of his hiding spot , a huge månå blade made of wind lunged towards him with the intent to kill.

If it wasn't for the månå shield device he probably would have been dead by now. His head removed from his body before he even knew what was going on. Yet even with his strong shield the blade still managed to penetrate his barrier and graze his cheek, giving him a small cut.

A cut that had started bleeding red.

He choose to ignore how the blade easily cut down three trees behind him like they were nothing.

He stands their shocked for a few moments. His milky white eyes wide in shock and disbelief as his mind starts running miles a second trying to process what had just happened. It's the foul scent of the formally sweet phermones and a feral growl that snaps him out of it. The harsh wave of bloodlust following after it caused a shiver of fear to go down his spine.

He looked towards the two omegas ready to face the ' devil ' omega head, because even now he still believes that the man is responsible for the attack.

Even though deep down he knows the h/c man does not have the ability to conjure månå spell his mind refuses to think of any other possibility.

Of course it had to be the s/c man who had done it. Leon was to weak hearted to even hurt a fly.

He feels his heart shatter into a million pieces when he realizes that's not the case.

Big e/c eyes filled with fear stare into his own wide eyes. Their owner going to hide himself behind the larger frame of his omegan lover , as he gripped the back of the other man's robe tightly.

M/N. The one Alvar had been condemning this whole time was the one who looked like a scared rabbit.

And for a brief moment he couldn't understand why. Because he can still feel the killing intent in the air.

It wasn't until he looked over at the person who was protectively standing guard of the h/c that he realized how wrong he had been with his early assumptions.

Leon. His pure and kind beloved was the one glaring daggers at him and snarling at his presence like an animal.

The scene he was seeing completely destroyed the image of the weak and frail lilly he had envisioned Leon to be.

The blue haired man seemed to snap out of his feral daze as he starts to spurt out apologies towards the Pope, but with how he doesn't once leave his position standing protectively in front of the h/c man Alvar can tell he doesn't mean a word he says.

If anything the look in his eyes blunty tells the alpha that he's not wanted their and he should be going back to where he belongs, but the apologies still fly out none the less

Alvar felt his blood boil at the thought of being inferior to the h/c omega. He wanted to scream at the both of them and demand to know what their relationship is! Wanted to put them in their place by telling the Saint he had a duty to remain pure to the temple and the discarded Emperor that he was supposed to remain faithful to his husband!

" oh I'm so sorry Ally... " All the anger in his vains disappeared instantly once he heard the nicknames the blue haired omega had given to him. A jolt of pleasure going down his spine when the pretty man sent him a smile.

Even though said smile didn't reach his eyes

" ...but could ask you to keep I and lords L/N's relationship a secret ? We really don't want any else to know about this. I trust you that's why I'm asking you for such a big favour "

The blue haired omega purred out his words gently, but even a fool could tell they was no meaning in them other than telling the Pope to mind his own business.

Still Alvar found himself nodding his head to the man's request.

He could never say no to his beloved.

Even if it killed him watching the man be happy with someone else.

Basil

The pink haired recessive alpha doesn't think to much of it when the pretty saint starts to visit his master in their small mansion at the far edged of the imperial palace grounds.

He even gets worried about him the first time he came asking for his h/c master, because a large part of him was so sure his lord would pour the anger of his failing marriage between him and that bastard's emperor's failing marriage onto the innocent man.

Much to his surprise M/N had received the man with a giddy smile and excitement resembling that of a pup on a suger rush. The intial shock about the whole situation wears off quick when he chalks up their meeting to political things or his lord having matters to deal with in the holy temple and they had simply sent Saint Leon as a representative.

Is also weirded out by the lack of knights and temple attendants that are meant to be following the pretty omega. Leon was the Empire's treasure and so not seeing him with guards was going to be weird and worrisome.

Again his nerves calm down when the saint tells him that his meetings with his h/c were private and all the guards would draw attention. So taking the words saint's words to heart the recessive alpha believed him without any questions. Besides now that his master was busy he could now focus trying to break his oath to that devil omega.

Once he breaks the stupid oath he would try to woo the pretty saint. He knew he wasn't as rich or influential as the other people chasing him, but Basil was sure that his love would win!

But watching from the small gap of the door leading to his master's bedroom that dream became shattered.

" M/n gripped his lover's coat for dear life as he buried his face in the larger omega's chest as an attempt to hide the red blush dusting his cheeks, stuttering out answers and letting out small whines of embarrassments at the other's teasing, but his current position wouldn't let him getting away.

Leon couldn't stop the smirk that stretched on his thin peach lips as he continued to pepper kisses on the s/c man's neck. He had the man straddling his laps, with one hand on his hips while the other was grabbing fistfuls of the smaller omega' s plump ass. Laughing softly when ever he would squeal when he groped the soft flesh tightly.

Basil watched their display of affection with wide eyes, his baby blue hues filled with disbelief and heart break.

Purple amethyst eyes darted over to directly at him spooking the knight slightly and the glare that followed behind it told him to shut his mouth.

Then the realization finally dawned on Basil that his unrealistic dream life would continue to remain that way and that if he now wanted to continue his normal life in reality he had to wake up.

If not the holy Saint would make sure he sleeps forever. "

Louis

( This is his face claim, but he has emerald green eyes )

Like Alvar he finds about the two by mistake in the hidden garden of the holy temple.

Came looking for some herbs to create a new concoction and saw the two making flower crowns under the moonlight.

The obvious loving manner with how the blue haired saint handles the discarded Emperor is Louis needs to see to know what's going on.

Unlike the first two who were in denial, louis is quick to figure out their relationship.

And unlike the first two he is the only one who visibly and verbally gets angry.

Once he sees them he's comes stopping out of his hiding place ready to tear his darling away from that dirty devil omega.

And once again unlike Alvar, he doesn't see the månå blade charging at him nor is he able to dodge the attack.

He's in half and bleeding out before he can even start a disturbance.

" Leon throws a scowl at the body. He had been quick to end the man before he caused a ruckus. So quick that M/N didn't even know what was going on. The other still innocently weaving his flower crown.

The blue haired omega clicked his tongue silently in annoyance knowing the man's sudden disappearance would cause a small ruckus on the temple grounds, but he knew that in two / three days the matter would die down.

The blond man hadn't been important to warrant any deep investigation. But this would serve as a lesson that he had to be more careful. "

Louis last thoughts would probably be wondering why he couldn't feel his legs anymore before bleeding out

Marrav

This motherfucker wouldn't be able to tell anything would be going on.

Even if Leon and M/N were to act to ' friendly ' in front of him, his dumb dominant alpha brain would chalk it up to M/N trying to gain his favor by becoming friends with Leon.

Like these two can get away with doing small pda gestures and he wouldn't think anything of it other than be possessive of the blue haired omega.

The only annoying thing would be him snatching Leon away from the M/N so the he and the pretty saint can be alone.

And unlike the others who found out by mistake Marrav would be completely left in the dark, because he fully believes that M/N is still stupidly in love with him and he's absolutely sure that Leon loves him and would never betray him.

Even if he's siblings and mother voice their concern on the twos closeness he would simply brush it off without thinking on the matter.

When things are too late is when he laments to himself that he probably should have listened.

" The former dominant alpha Emperor who was feared around the whole of ira, had been reduced to a malnourished sack of bones. His once inky long black locks had been messily chopped and was dirty. His body reeked of feces and foul sewage water. If he had known things would turn out like this he would have acted quickly in the signs.

His hazy silver eyes looked up to stare at the imposter sitting on his throne.

Leon out of his Saint uniform was cladded in clothing and jewelry meant for an Emperor. The sweet smile that Marrav had fallen in love with was gone from his face and what replaced it was a cocky smirk.

Sitting on his thighs was Marrav's ex-husband M/N ,who was dressed and dolled up in the prettiest clothing and jewelry that accentuated the h/c man's beauty and showed off his pretty body.

The disgraced Emperor watched with regret as the blue haired omega nuzzled the s/c man's cheeks, before bringing his lips closer to meet his in sensual kiss.

Leon glanced at Marrav while he did this, his purple eyes lightning up when he noticed the anger shaking off the alpha's pathetic form.

Marrav wanted to scream and curse the Saint- NO!!. The man was no saint.

He was a blue haired devil that had bewitched his innocent M/N

But his dehydrated throat wouldn't let him. The anger that had been fuming in his body disappeared and he felt the weakness of his malnourished body mock him.

The last thing he remembered hearing before passing out was Leon ordering his execution.

If only he had loved his husband and treated him right then the misfortune he was going through would have been avoided ".

#omegaverse #mc #nobility #omega male reader #dearly detested #Alvar #Basil #Louis #Marrav #x male reader #x omega male reader #Leon #moonlit #ask

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agentgumsh0e · 2 years

Note

are requests open? if they are, can you do hcs (or scenarios!) of cypher and/or sova with a s/o who's really good at art, and ends up drawing them a lot? i'm such a cypher and sova simp and your blog clears my crops and waters my skin thank you so much!!!

cypher and sova with an artsy s/o who draws them

word count: 510+

warnings: none besides slight chamber bias

cypher

cypher loves watching you do a lot of things (not in a weird way), but he especially loves watching you draw, similar to how you'd adoringly watch him as he worked. you'll probably do it next to him in his workshop while he's tinkering, and he’ll always manage to sneak some of your art onto the room’s walls.

you don’t even need to say anything about running out of supplies because, somehow, he already noticed and got them for you.

if he finds out that you're drawing him, he'll probably tease you a little about how you're obsessed with him, but on the inside, he feels really touched.

he's quite amazed by your work since the most he draws are blueprints for new gadgets. he's your number 1 fan.

sometimes, he’ll suggest some weirdly specific things for you to draw.

“you should draw chamber tripping into the river here, or draw my camera on one of these trees!” “amir, this is supposed to be a normal forest picture.” “...well, that’s boring.”

the next time you want to draw him, he'll offer to model for you, though he'll do really stupid poses when all you want to do is draw him being natural. you have to try to catch him when he’s not looking.

(despite it seeming like he’s too occupied to spot you, he’s completely aware that you’re drawing him and is just letting it happen.)

“geez, rose! creepy much?” (hypocrite)

he'll take off his mask (in private) and let you sketch him like that. he trusts you enough to know you won’t show anyone else your drawing.

sova

he's not a bad artist himself. as a child out in the tundra, he liked to draw nature and animals. he still does it today when he's camping or scouting.

if you draw him, you best believe he's drawing you too.

(honestly, he might have drawn you first. he won’t be shy about admitting it if he did.)

when he catches you drawing him, he just silently continues what he was doing but with a small smirk on his face.

he loves showing off his artwork to you and seeing yours in return. he's always so full of praise and compliments.

you two would probably sketch each other with big goofy smiles on your faces, though sometimes he gets too entranced by your features to put them to paper. (it's a cleverly hidden way of getting to stare at you.)

if you want him as a model or a reference, he's good at staying as still as a statue.

he would brag about you to the others if you'd let him.

“(y/n) is amazing at art. not to brag, but they've drawn me a couple of times.”

he would draw you and ask you to draw him on the same paper so he could keep it in his pocket.

“no matter how hard i try, my drawing cannot capture all of your beauty.”

like cypher, he would notice if you ran out of art supplies and go buy them for you.

#cypher x reader #sova x reader #cypher #sova #valorant x reader #valorant cypher #valorant cypher x reader #valorant sova #valorant sova x reader #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant imagines #valorant scenarios #valorant fanfiction #cypher valorant #cypher valorant x reader #sova valorant #sova valorant x reader

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royallyjoon · 3 years

Text

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved.

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack.

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone.

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished.

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear.

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right.

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.”

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest.

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods.

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand.

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb.

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you.

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well.

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening.

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand?

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold.

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to.

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received.

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes.

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts.

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder.

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display.

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however.

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out.

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea.

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser.

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.”

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that.

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear.

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late.

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor.

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place.

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further.

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier.

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use.

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up.

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking.

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them.

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky.

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased.

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested.

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge,

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head.

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received.

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path.

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath.

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him.

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze.

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons.

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man.

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand.

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground.

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form.

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied.

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two.

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt.

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high.

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you.

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone.

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face.

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water.

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest.

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge.

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers.

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off.

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree.

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing.

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned.

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant.

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you.

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms.

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms.

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there.

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less.

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment.

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him.

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay.

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home.

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence.

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood.

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors.

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them.

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke.

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader.

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place.

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak.

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going.

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively.

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg.

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack.

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream.

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N).

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream.

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity.

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was.

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing.

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat.

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack.

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet.

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it.

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack.

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head.

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment.

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity.

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message.

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate.

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form.

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand.

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them.

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze.

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly.

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes.

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

“I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief.

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...”

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence.

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-”

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself.

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother.

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward.

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed.

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested.

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room.

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over.

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression.

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages.

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through.

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands.

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support.

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered.

You nodded in agreement.

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life.

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be.

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place.

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school.

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers).

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed.

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.”

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed.

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels.

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything.

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators.

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so.

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture.

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother.

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay.

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital.

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours.

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands.

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone.

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping.

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals.

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering.

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh.

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny.

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift.

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met.

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well.

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it.

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace.

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck.

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly.

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it.

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok.

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face.

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state.

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you.

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission.

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe.

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap.

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled.

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you.

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.”

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer.

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge.

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together.

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days.

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss.

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working.

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan.

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her.

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.”

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand.

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief.

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity.

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them.

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month.

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms.

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod.

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken.

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way?

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime

#yandere x reader #yandere bts x reader #yandere jung hoseok #Yandere jeon jungkook #yandere kim namjoon #yandere kim seokjin #yandere kim taehyung #yandere park jimin #yandere min yoongi #yandere bts au #high school au #bts cult au #supernatural creature au

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chifuyusfingers · 3 years

Note

Im obsessed with ur coloring in the boys tattoos works!! Could you do the reverse? Where they color in yours? With whoever u want!

~Tokyo revengers members Coloring Their S/O Tattoos.~

Mikey | Draken | Baji | Chifuyu

{Heya! I didn't put much into it but I hope you like it! And thank you though!}

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

M i k e y

You had no hesitation letting him color your tattoos. “Have fun, babe.” You pinched your cheek and relaxed under the big tree you were both sitting under. Today you had thrown all your plans away just to be with mikey all day.

The wings on your forearm was now stained in hues of purple and green with accents of yellow. “So, besides today, how have you been lately?” Your gaze swayed from him to the inside of your eyelids as you were drifting to sleep slowly. “Okay, I suppose. School is annoying.” He laughed and your heart twinged with love.

You chuckled and looked down at your arm. "Mikey you done?" All you could hear was just a "hm".

“Let’s just rest for a little bit I'm tired.” You pushed the markers into the grass and your arm wrapped itself around his waist as you pulled him down and into your side. Mikey couldn’t fight it as his ear was filled with the sound of your mellowing heartbeat. Your fingers danced in his hair till you knew he was fast asleep.

You stayed awake just looking at his angelic features as the sight of your multi-colored arm shifted your focus. It was so meaningless to him but you loved it as you knew that it came from his heart and mind.

It was him– perfect.

~~~

B a j i

“Y/n! ” Baji called as he stepped into the large house. “I believe she's in the gazebo or her office, Mr.” One of the worked associates greeted baji at the front door. He grabbed the bags from baji's arms as he started walking. He was off towards the back of the house to find his fiancee.

“Y/n-!” he called as he rounded the corner of the house and into the back yard. The gazebo was empty. He stopped and stared for a moment. He was sure that this is where she'd be.

“Up here, my love.” A voice said as he looked up to see Y/n at her office balcony. “Hey there” he waved as your eyes squinted in a smile. “How was your day out?” you asked as you brought your teacup up to your lips. “It was okay~I have something to show you!” he called and held up a small shopping bag in his large hand. “I’ll be right up!” he raced back into the house and up the stairs to where you already stood waiting for him in the doorway to your office.

“What’s so amazing that you found today?” your eyebrow raised and he opened the bag quickly. “But first-” You interrupted you as you grabbed his face gently and gave him a passionate kiss. “What’s this for?” he asked as he continued to stare at your face lovingly. “Just happy to see you is all.” You smiled.

“Now, show mee.” he motioned to one of his hands that was stuck in the bag he held. He was brought back to reality and pulled the plastic package out of the bag.

“…Markers?” you asked and your tone of voice made him laugh. “Not just any markers. They’re tattoo markers. They’re safe for the skin.” He corrected you and you rolled your eyes. “You’re still on this?” You asked with an amused expression. “Of course I am! This was the deal and my love for you is way too much so.” he said shoving them into your hands so you could inspect the box.

You read the back and you had to admit he was right.

“You said I could color your tattoos IF I found tattoo markers. Safe for the skin and everything!” You knew he did it and that you had to hold up your part of the deal. “Okay fine.” You sighed as you handed the package back. “Yay! Beautiful Thank you!” He jumped and laid a gentle kiss on your nose.

“We can do it later before dinner.” You agreed.

—-

“Finally! You take forever.” He sighed as you moved your sunglasses up your nose. The grass tickled your bare legs as baji sat next to you. “I couldn’t help it. Chifuyu that jackass didn’t want to hang up the phone.” he stood on his knees and moved behind you. His hands gently rubbed your shoulders as your head fell in an exasperated manner.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Y/n. But, I called you out here for the deal. Not a massage.” You whined as you flopped down on the grass, your t-shirt lifting on your back.

“If this stains, I will make sure to throw out all color in your life. Your life will be a dull kaleidoscope-” “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, you big baby.” He laughed and opened his pouch full of the tattoo markers.

He lifted the back of your shirt more till the full picture was revealed. A dragon with demons following was the full picture- a dark reality…that he were going to make colorful. What can he do he loves your tattoos so much.

He sat on his lower back and got to work filling in the different parts of the dragon. Every once in awhile you would spasm and try to make him mess-up. Yet, with a slight tug on your hair, you would become limp and obedient again.

“I’m almost done.” Was the phrase that almost made you weep with joy. “Finally.” You let it slip and you felt a tug on your hair again. “Ow.” You rubbed your head. You could feel him draw and move the felt-tipped weapons on his back.

“Finished.” He cheered and grabbed his phone to take a picture. He showed it to you and ombre scaled decorated the dragon with the demon’s faces were colored red and blue. It looked nice. You saw a couple of smiley faces hidden in there and felt like everything looked complete.

“Okay, my turn now!” You yelled and grabbed his arm. You struggled and pulled him to the ground and grabbed the black marker that was in his hand. “Y/n, no.” he said strictly. “This wasn’t apart of the deal.” He expressed. “Excuse me? Sorry, I don’t speak Japanese.” Your english rambled off quickly from your tongue. He decided to just deal with it as you took your time drawing a mustache on his face along with random doodles you could think of.

You finally stopped your antics and took a picture with your phone to look at afterward. “You look so cute, look!” You pulled up the picture and shoved it in his face. “I look gross man!” He ridiculed but you wrapped him up in your arms quickly,

“My gross man.”

D r a k e n

You were on your period and hell you were pissed, your mood swings were just making the situation more shitty.

Draken on the other hand was just trying to help you but every now and then you'd snap at him for absolute no reason. "Oi, can you stop whining for once?"

He said with pretty much no emotion at all. And that's all it took for you to break down in tears.

Draken was taken aback, "babe hey, hey, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that please stop crying- I". “Wanna play tic-tac-toe?” He asked and you looked around, surprised he was asking. “Um-” He didn’t wait for an answer and grabbed your legs– pulling you closer to where he sat.

Draken took the permanent markers out which was on the floor for god knows why. You wiped the rest of your tears and grabbed the orange marker out of his hand. He lifted the sleeve of his long shirt and created the grid in black ink. “Wanna go first?” He asked and you took the opportunity to land an 'X’ in the grid.

“Fine. You win this tournament. But, I know I’ll win next time.” You said laying back and closing his eyes.

The bottom of your shirt lifted and he could see the familiar black ink on your side. “Stop staring at me like that, pervert. I have rights.” You pulled your shirt down and he let a laugh rip through your chest.

“Chill. I was just looking at your tattoo.” He said and you shrugged. “What about 'em?” You asked as his eyes closed once more. “Nothing. Just looking,” he sighed, “I wanted to be a tattoo artist before all of this.” One eye peeked open and you looked suspiciously at his figure. “Are you any good?"

Draken just chuckled at your question.

“Give me one!” You lifted the side of your shirt and waited patiently.

He shrugged, finding nothing else better to do. You already had black ink staining your skin so he decided to add on. It was another simple dragon but it fit your character and personality perfectly.

Time seemed to slow as you tried to take a sneak peek of the masterpiece he were currently working on. You planned to take a picture later and get it done, yet, it would have to be in secret.

All of a sudden, the bedroom door popped open. “Welcome back to Earth.” Mikey greeted. He capped the marker and helped you up.

"Why are you here" You asked while getting up, "Rude Y/n Chan, I'm still gonna answer your question though POLITELY, Ken-chin called us here so that we can go on a short trip or something to make your day better. Right ken-chin". Mikey looked over at draken, "Right whatever, can we go now?" He looked over at you for your response and all you did was kissed his neck because of your damn height and tagged along behind Mikey.

“Woah. You got a new tattoo?” Hina said as she lifted up your shirt and you shooed her hands away.

“Eventually.”

C h i f u y u

"I GONNA THROW UP ON YOU WITH ALL MY MIGHT IF YOU TRY TO GET NEAR MY TATTOOS MISTER " You exclaimed loudly as he started following you like a lost puppy around the kitchen, where you were busy making your 'grilled cheese'.

"Babe C'mom little color won't hurt and it's not like I'm trying to bite your tattoos off-". " See, there you said it, you're exactly gonna bite my tattoos off" Chifuyu sighed having enough of your nothings, he suddenly back hugged you, you can feel his large hands wrapped around your hip.

"What do you think you're doing?". You asked as you turned around to see his face,

"If you're not gonna let me color your tattoos then I prefer to stick with you like a koala, and you sure as hell know I ain't letting go." Chifuyu said and you eventually gave up because you knew nothing will change even if you don't agree with fuyu.

So now here you are sitting on chifuyu's lap as he continued to color the wallflower on your shoulder. "You done?". "Hold on a minute babe it's almost over, -All done" Chifuyu replied.

You sat up and started making your way to the mirror to see what he actually did " Y/N!!! Wait" chifuyu voice said and you turned around to see your boyfriend running over to you.

"Wha-", before you could finish your sentence he lifted you up and threw you over his shoulder. "The actual fuck chifuyu, what did you do! PUT ME DOWN YOU ASS"

"It's just better if you don't see it ya know, and I'll make sure you don't see it until I leave" Chifuyu chuckled quietly as he continued making his way to your bedroom.

-------------------------------_-----_-------------------------------------

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fluff #manjiro sano x reader #draken x reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu x y/n #baji x y/n #baji x reader #mikey sano #mitsuya x reader #tokyo revengers anime #takemichi hanagaki #chifuyu imagines #mikey scenarios #anime imagines

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Are You Happy With Him?

Y/N is a Med-Jack in the Glade, who happens to be dating Gally. Newt happens to be completely in love with her, but he may have more of a chance with her than he’d first thought.

masterlist

The night is dark, the air is cool. Sparks dance away from the fire, and the Gladers mill about watching Gally pummel whatever boy had the misfortune to step into the circle with him, all the while pretending they can’t see the looming walls of the Maze rising up around them. Thomas is seated on the ground a distance away from everyone else, back leaned up against a fallen tree trunk while he listens to Newt explain everything there is to know about the Glade and the Maze and whatever else Thomas asks him.

The sound of footsteps draws close, and seconds later another boy swings into a seat next to the two of them. Newt grins to see his friend. “Thomas, this is Minho. Think you’ve seen him around before, he’s a Runner.” Minho waves a greeting to Thomas, then glances back in the same direction as the two boys. “Newt talking you through life here in the Glade?”

Thomas nods. Minho keeps glancing around the campfire, then chuckles slightly when his eyes fall on the lone girl standing among the other Gladers. “Newt mentioned her yet?” Newt groans, but Thomas shakes his head. “No, not once. Who is she?” Minho adjusts his position so he’s facing Thomas, holding up his hands as if the runner’s about to deliver a key piece of information.

“That right there is Y/N. She’s a Med-Jack, although we all call her a Med-Jane because we’re a bunch of shanks who like to mess with our friends. The reason she’s so important is because Newt here is head over heels for her.” Newt rolls his eyes. “That’s not true, Minho, and you know that. Besides, it doesn’t matter how any one of us feel about her, because she’s seeing Gally. End of story.”

Minho groans. “Come on, Newt, there’s not a single person here who’d believe that klunk. Newt’s obsessed with her, but to be fair, we all kind of are. Anyways, the point is she’s one of the best Med-Jacks here, but you wouldn’t know it because Gally gives us a death stare whenever we talk about her for more than thirty seconds.”

Thomas looks up to see Y/N approaching the three boys. She jerks her head at them, and Newt and Minho move over so she can sit down. “I heard my name being mentioned. You telling the Greenie about how I’m the best person in the Glade by far?” Minho laughs. “We were saying that if he ever breaks an arm he should go to Clint instead.” Y/N lunges over to hit Minho on the shoulder, and the friends break into laughter.

Newt reaches behind him to grab a glass full of a frothy (and somehow dirty) amber liquid, taking a sip to Y/N’s disgust. She makes a face at him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you stand that stuff. It’s foul.” Newt grins at her. “Your own boyfriend makes it, I feel like you should at least pretend to stomach it like the rest of us.” Y/N rolls her eyes. “Not even our relationship can make me want to look at that poison.”

She sighs suddenly, eyes travelling across the campfire to where Gally’s pummeling yet another Glader into submission. “And it wouldn’t be the only habit of Gally’s that I disagree with.” Minho nods slowly. “It’s the Med-Jane impulse. Stops you every time.” Y/N gives him a look dripping with outrage, and she and the boys dissolve into laughter.

After a while, limbs get stiff and the four stand up to take a tour around the campfire. Newt points out the different groups of Gladers, and they’re doing fine until Gally ‘accidentally’ shoves a stumbling opponent into Thomas’ back, causing him to lose his balance. Thomas dusts himself off, but looks up when Gally approaches him. “What do you say, Greenie? Want to see what you’re made of?”

Thomas stares at him, uncomprehending, but Y/N makes a quiet sound of annoyance. “Come on, Gally. It’s the guy’s first day here. Give him a break.” Gally ignores her, speaking even louder to Thomas to explain the rules of the fight. Newt drifts over, gently pulling Y/N away from the ring. “Let Thomas have a go. Gally probably won’t rough him up that much.”

They step aside, hanging on the outskirts of the group. Y/N winces as Gally shoves Thomas face-first into the dirt. “It’s barbaric. Does he really have to do this?” Newt stares at the ongoing fight, at Gally clearly reveling in the chance to rough up another Glader, then looks back at Y/N. “Are you happy with him?”

Y/N turns to him, a look almost like outrage on her face. “Of course I am, why would you ask me that? Maybe he has a few habits that aren’t my favorite, but he’s still one of the best guys in the Glade.” Newt shakes his head. “I’m not talking about Gally’s necessity as a Glader. I’m talking about how he makes you feel. Are you happy with him, Y/N? Actually happy?”

Y/N opens her mouth to speak, then closes it again. “I should be able to answer that.” She’s silent for a moment or two longer. “I don’t know.” She stares back at the fight, flinching slightly when Gally’s fist crosses Thomas’ face as if she’s already mentally figuring out how much time she’ll have to spend in the Med-Jack hut trying to put the Greenie back together.

“I don’t think I am. I don’t think anybody’s asked me that in a very long time, and I haven’t thought about it in even longer.” Y/N tilts her head down, sighing quietly. Newt glances back at her, then carefully slides an arm around her. She leans her head against his shoulder.

The morning is bright, heat already pouring into the Glade. Newt is about to take his break for lunch, but he looks around and realizes he doesn’t see the one girl who should’ve been out to eat before him. He taps Zart on the shoulder. “You seen Y/N?” The Track-Hoe nods. “She had some argument with Gally, then headed out to the Deadheads for some peace and quiet. I don’t think she’s come back since.” Newt considers this. “I’m going to go get her, tell her it’s time for lunch. See you after the break’s over.��

The trees of the Deadheads sway slightly, offering some much-appreciated shade and cool despite the burning heat of the sun. Newt doesn’t have to walk far before he finds Y/N seated on a high-reaching tree branch, head leaned back against the rough bark. He climbs up after her, and they both pretend not to notice when his bad leg gives out, making him slip for just a second.

“Is there a reason you’re camped out in the middle of the forest?” Newt asks, and Y/N smiles ever so slightly. “I’m here to avoid Gally. I broke up with him and now he’s passive aggressively building things as if every hammer swing could kill.” Newt frowns. “At least he’s being passive.” Y/N laughs. “Focus on the aggressive. It’s mostly just aggressive.”

She sighs suddenly, looking up at the tree branches around her. The leaves seem to form a slight crown around her head. “I never thought I’d be the one to end things. Always thought he’d get tired of me and that would be that. I don’t feel any different than I did before. Maybe a little more free, like I can finally complain about things and not have to mince my words around him.”

Newt nods. “He’ll come around after a while. He’ll mess around and be bloody angry for a while, but then he’ll be back to our usual easily-bothered Gally.” Y/N smiles. “You do have a way with words. I feel better already.” Newt laughs at that, then jumps down from the tree, holding out his hand to help Y/N down. “You’ll feel even better when you have your lunch. Come on, I’m sure Frypan’s outdone himself, or at least he’ll pretend he has.”

The afternoon is late, and Y/N’s still working in the Med-Jack hut despite the fact that she should have left long ago. Gally finally warmed up to her again a couple of days ago, and he’s sent in a torrent of injured Builders to join the already large number of wounded Slicers that occupy the hut. She’s been busy all morning, and finally finished sending the last boy out with bandaged hands and a promise to stay out of trouble.

Y/N’s just doing the last checks to make sure her workstation is clear and ready for the next morning when she hears a soft knock on the door behind her. She turns to see Newt lingering by the door, and smiles. “You’d better not have cut yourself too. I don’t even want to have to look at a bandage ever again, or maybe just until tomorrow.”

Newt grins, padding into the room to come stand next to her. “No injuries here. We’re all good.” His focus shifts to the cabinet open above him, and Y/N’s failed attempts to reach the door to put a faded glass bottle of ointment back inside. “Here, I’ve got you.” He takes the bottle from her hand, reaching up over her head to slide it inside and shut the door. When he looks back down, he realizes that his slight movement had shifted him close to Y/N, and they stand only an inch or two apart. He stands there for just a second, then leans forward with the air of someone taking a leap of faith and kisses her.

His hands slip around her waist, and Y/N presses her palms against the small of his back. When he breaks away, her eyes are light, and happier than he’s seen in a while. “I’ve been wanting you to do that for a long time.” She says, and Newt finally allows himself a smile. “I’ve been wanting the same.”

When morning breaks, it brings with it fear and overwhelming terror. After the doors to the Maze didn’t close at nightfall, the resulting Griever attack had left the Glade weak and unprotected. Newt walks with Y/N to the opening of the Maze, and wraps a protective hand around hers as they watch Gally prepare to sacrifice Thomas and Teresa to the Grievers in the hopes of protecting the rest of the Gladers.

Teresa, already tied to a wooden pole, argues desperately that their deaths will do nothing to save the Glade. Gally grows angry and orders Thomas to be tied up as well, but Thomas fights back against his would-be captors. The second Thomas lashes out, Y/N drops Newt’s hand, and the two of them join Minho, Frypan, and a score of other supporters to turn the tide, forcing Gally back with weapons drawn.

Y/N remains silent as Thomas speaks to the rest of the Gladers, urging them to escape the Maze with him. More walk away from Gally to join Thomas and the others, but still more remain on the other side. Finally, when the last of the Gladers willing to leave stand by Thomas, Y/N steps forward. She speaks directly to Gally, her voice cracking slightly.

“Gally, please. Come with us. You won’t survive here if you stay.” Gally shakes his head just slightly. “Good luck with the Grievers.” Y/N looks at him, remembering all of the love she’d once had for him in that moment. “Don’t do this, Gally. Please.” But Gally turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing there to watch him go. Newt stands silently beside her, and Y/N looks at him with pain before allowing him to wrap his arms comfortingly around her. “He made his choice. There’s nothing you can do.” She nods hesitantly, and they walk together into the Maze.

The journey through the Maze is fraught with peril, and Y/N watches with horror as friends she’d known for months died at the claws of the Grievers. Finally, amazingly, a small handful of Gladers make it through the Maze and into the broken rooms of WICKED. Y/N holds Newt’s hand as they walk through the rooms, broken glass crunching under their feet. They do not intend to let go.

There’s a voice from across the destruction, from one of the other rooms. The Gladers group together instinctively, Newt pulling Y/N close to his side. A figure steps out from the darkness, and Y/N’s breath catches in her throat when she recognizes the boy. “Gally?” Her voice echoes across the room and he nods ever so slightly. Newt steps in front of her protectively when he notices the gun in Gally’s hand.

Gally shakes his head quickly when he sees the boy move. “I’m not going to shoot her, Newt. That’s not why I’m here. I could never hurt her.” Y/N speaks in a calm voice. “Put down the gun, Gally. We can talk about this, about why you’re here.” Gally shakes his head again with even more fervor than before. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I have to do this.” He takes a shuddering gasp, and his eyes clear for just a second even as tears begin to pour down his cheeks.

“Are you happy with him?” Y/N nods slowly when she hears his question. “Yes. I am.” Gally forces something that looks almost like a smile, but with the overwhelming twist of his face from the tears it looks bent and broken instead of joyful. Gally redirects his attention to Thomas, who is asking him to put down the gun. Gally shakes his head, sobs still racking his body. “I belong to the Maze. We all do.”

It all seems to happen at once. Gally pulls the trigger, Minho moves in a blur of movement to throw a spear through Gally’s chest. Gally stumbles and falls to the ground. Y/N lets out this quiet scream, her breath rasping sharply against her throat. Newt covers her eyes with his hand, making sure that she can’t see the dead body of the boy she’d once loved.

It is then that Thomas sees the blood starting to spread from Chuck’s chest, then that he sees the way Chuck’s breathing falters and he starts to collapse to the ground. Thomas bends over him, frantic. “Y/N, Clint, somebody! He’s been- he’s been-” Thomas can’t finish the sentence. Y/N kneels next to him, ignoring the blood beginning to stain her hands, but at last she stands up again and shakes her head almost imperceptibly at Thomas.

Silent tears run down her cheeks as Thomas stares at her in mute incomprehension, then turns back to Chuck. Y/N buries her face in Newt’s shoulder, unable to watch as the young boy breathes his last in Thomas’ arms. When it comes time for them to leave, Thomas’ screams echo down the empty hallways. Newt takes Y/N’s hand, whispers in her ear. “There was nothing you could have done.” She looks at him sadly. “I know. And it hurts even more for it.”

The two of them head back down the halls together, hand in hand. She won’t leave him, not now. Not ever. He needs her as much as she needs him, as much as the sun needs the moon and the earth needs one more chance to heal. They do not intend to leave each other, never again. They do not know if they will have a choice about it, but it does not matter. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth to give themselves the chance to stay together.

#newt #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt imagines #maze runner #maze runner imagine #maze runner x reader #maze runner imagines #maze runner newt #maze runner newt imagines #maze runner newt x reader #maze runner newt imagine #death cure #wicked

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kyberphilosopher · 4 years

Text

Oʀᴏᴛᴜɴᴅ

Requested?: Yes. Contains allusions to sex and illness, non graphic.

Word Count: 3301

Eren has disappeared beyond the walls, finding refuge with a sick ex-soldier.

Orotund: (adj.*) speaking or singing with fullness, clarity, or strength of song or voice.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sickness had spread slowly, but surely.

You couldn’t tell where you had gotten it from. At first, you had assumed it was simply an intensified version of the flu. However, the longer you took care of yourself, the more you realized that this was far worse.

Dividing the time into five stages, you began keeping note of what was happening to you during Stage Two. During Stage One, you began to experience relatively short periods of a fever. They’d usually last for days at a time, with you lying in bed draping a wet rag on your forehead. So intense, you could not even get up to urinate or eat, it was difficult not to feel pathetic.

Stage Two had made the fever die down. You were more than thankful for this, of course, but it had come with it’s own crashing, crushing waves. Stage Two had begun to make you lose weight at a rapid and inexplicable pace. You often frowned at yourself in the mirror, observing how your torso was slimming and shaping around the form of your ribs. It came before the loss of appetite, which only made matters that much worse.

Stage Three, during which you had met him, was strange. It didn’t directly cause any physical changes to you, but it did indirectly. You grew restless in the night, and exhausted during the day. Riddled with fatigue, the daily chores you relied on for life became troublesome. Drawing water from the well strained your back, and because of what Stage Two had done to your stomach, you lacked the energy needed to keep yourself upright.

One day, in whatever season it had been, you returned to your cabin to find a stranger inside. Instantly on sight, your pail of drinking water fell from your fingers and splashed against the wooden floors. Your boots and socks were soaked. The knocking of wood against wood made your ears ring as if a bomb had gone off.

The boy was still, but his eyes were somewhat wide as if he was also surprised. He must not have considered someone was already living in the cabin. Yet, he was sitting at your dining table, watching you with open eyes and open ears.

Before you could scold, yelp, or simply say hello, you collapse over. The fatigue overpowers you and you crash against your counter in a heap.

The boy leapt forward on instinct. His right arm wrapped around your back to steady you somewhat, his left hand gripping onto your other shoulder. It didn’t help you too much, as your ankle was already rolling out from under you, but it did keep you from hitting the floor completely. Thus, the boy had at least saved you a head injury.

“My room,” you croaked with hazy eyes. The hand attached to the arm over his back weakly pointed in the direction of your bedroom. It wasn’t too far away. You were lucky that he craned his head to see where you were gesturing to, and understood. “I have to get to... my room...”

“Right,” the boy replied.

He hoisted you up, the both of you grunt quietly in unison. And then he practically dragged you across the floorplan of your home, stumbling and groaning all the way. The boy let you drop into your bed on your own, partially kicking him in the process.

You hum out a sigh of relief. Your head is immediately alleviating itself, and the room is ceasing to spin so quickly. The boy is confused as to the lack of yelling or anger. Instead, he is enthralled with the calm, tired, demeanor of your form. He’d broken into your cabin, eaten your food, and you hadn’t even looked mad. In fact, you looked almost sickly.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Stage Four brought depression. Yes, you already had that. But now your sickness was piling onto the chemical imbalances, adding to the lack of calories, nutrients, and sleep. Whatever strength you had before was dwindling away faster than before, although this time, things were different.

The strangers name was Eren. Eren Jaeger. He had large, piercing teal eyes, bold eyebrows, and dark hair. At the time of your meeting, it was the length of his shoulders. His palms were wrapped in gauze at the time, but it wasn’t permanent. He’d since removed them, and helped you work.

Eren was strong. He could repair things that were broken around the cabin and help you with the well upkeep. Sometimes he would go hunting and bring home venison or herbs for you, which was kind. He didn’t ask for much in return, other than you not tell anyone of his presence. Not like you had anyone to tell anyways.

Eren gave you a ride on his Titan once or twice too. That was something you loved. You were scared at first, but Eren didn’t let anything happen to you. He would lift you up in the palm of his hand so you could reach the fruits at the top of the tallest of trees. Then you’d go home and slice the fruit up for him in a small bowl.

He slept on the bench in the living room. You’d felt particularly guilty about that part, but your weak body needed all the relaxation it could get. Eren knew that, and he never forced you to share or give more than was even remotely necessary. Really, Eren was quiet most days. He seemed to do a great bit of brooding, but you’d grown accustomed to the presence of another human being, and thus, warmth. And Eren liked you. You weren’t obsessive, didn’t yell for the way he cleaned, didn’t rip up his clothes, or remind him of a fading dream.

Time blurs together when you’re living on your own in the middle of nowhere, but the boy was with you for more than two months, at least. He figured out that you were sick in that span of time, including that you didn’t deserve to be. There wasn’t much around your cabin to suggest much of past life. Eren didn’t blame you. That’s why he stayed in the cabin as well- hoping to leave the past for a blank space.

You took care of each other. Your favorite example was on a morning in Spring.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Eren wore a simple brown cloak. No shirt underneath, giving you a much appreciated view of the boys abdominal muscles. Though, you’d probably never get the opportunity to admit you found the boy physically appealing, you took it in. His hair was back in a bun today. The sun broke over the horizon, illuminating his eyes.

Jaeger held your horse by the reigns. His right bare foot was rubbing against his left shin, tired as the horse began to excrete last nights meal. Eren must’ve gotten up earlier than usual this morning for chores, because the circles under his eyes seemed more prominent. Not that it specifically mattered. He looked handsome all the same. You appreciated the view for a few minutes before starting towards the well.

First, you set the bucket on the earth where the water is sure to fall. Then, you place both hands on the pump, digging your feet into the ground for leverage. Stage Four has made you weaker than most people. This will take a lot out of you.

Pushing down, it takes all of your strength to get a single pump of water into the pail. It’s not enough, and sweat is already beading at your forehead. It’s not even hot yet, and something mediocre is nearing you close to death. Your heart strains against your chest, but you ignore it. You have to get the water.

You push down a second time. Now, the container is half full of the clear stuff. It ripples in the light of the sun like a rainbow. Your head feels like it’s on fire. A slow, dull fire. You have to push a third...

With a final great heave, your blistered hands scrape against the contraption. The water gushes out like a miracle, filling the bucket again. So crisp it makes your mouth water, you kneel to the ground to catch your breath.

Stop, your heart begs. Stop. Rest. But the responsibility is staring you dead in the eyes, and you can’t ignore it. And you can’t ask Eren to go a day without water. He deserves it. For Eren’s sake, you must do this.

Although your world is dizzy, you push yourself to your feet. Your blistered fingers wrap around the handle, ready to pick it off the ground without issue. However, water buckets are heavy. There is nothing you can do but struggle to raise it off the ground, tears and sweat pricking at the corners of your eyes and goosebumps appearing at your arms. It’s not even really that chilly.

Eren was like a God sent. You didn’t fully hear what he said to you, but you felt his arms slide around you to lift you up. “Y/N, do you hear me? You have to stand, alright?” You hadn’t replied.

Jaeger connected the dots. With one half of his body, he leveraged you up and to your feet. With the other, he grabbed the pail of water and began moving forward.

It was slow with you practically slumped against him, but he was a soldier. Eren wasn’t about to just let you drop in the middle of nowhere. He wouldn’t let you succumb to your illness that easily, if he let you succumb to anything at all.

Eren set you on your bed. You had a fever, so he laid a wet cloth across your forehead. He stripped you down to your undergarments as respectfully as one could, laying two more rags on your forearms for extra help. Then he drew you a bath, knowing the water would be cold for your lingering fever. He never asked for anything in return.

But, he had set a hand against your shoulder. His thumb ran in soft circles against your hot skin, a comforting, loving gesture. You could feel his long hair brush against your chest as he leaned down to make sure your heart was still beating. Aside from a slight palpitation, it seemed in working order.

His brushing thumb lingered a moment longer before he let you rest. Even in sleep, you missed it. You wouldn’t forget this.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This leads us into the final Stage. Stage 5. The one where you die at the end.

“Eren,” you call out softly, watching the curtain windows sheer in the sunlight.

In response, the boy bows his head to look down at you. His eyes are calm, but bright as always. His hair is half up, half down. Laying between his thighs comfortably, your stomach rumbles from hunger. Despite this, things are quiet.

“Yes?” he replies.

You swallow dryly. Then you reveal your desire. “Do you sing?”

His right hand comes to rest on your forehead. Yes, you have the fever again. But Eren knows you are in the right mind. His thumb strokes your temple, catching a few wisps of your hair as he does so.

“Not well,” he answers with the ghost of a smile. “You want me to sing to you?”

You shift, and one of your hand grazes by his knee. “Maybe,” you tease back. Then you frown. “You seem tired today.”

Eren exhales. His right hand lays against your forehead, a mix of concern and something like affection.

“Is it the Attack Titan?” you continue, gazing up at him through soft lashes.

It was. Eren’s history- the worlds history- was churning around his mind until it seemed like a bunch of mush. You were the only thing that was clear to him at this point. But you were silent. Calm, compared to everything else in the universe.

“No,” Eren decides to assure light heartedly. His thumb begins to circle around your sticky skin in the little way that it does. “It’s nothing.”

Silence again.

The warm breeze brushes against the window outside, but it’s not loud. It’s warm from the light of the sun, and the hills of emerald grass span for miles ahead. The sky is as blue as the birds that soar across it. Serene. That was how you would describe the life you currently lead. And blessed be you for leading it as peacefully and quietly as the loud and complicated world would allow.

“I think I’m going to die soon.”

The quiet was broken with another fracture of quiet. Eren’s heart gave a great, vibrating beat, and then paused. In contrast, you couldn’t recall the last time you’d heard your heart beat.

All the violent death he’d seen, just for you to die of an unknown illness?

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You knew you were going to die at the end. You knew it for a fact. You’d just gotten lucky.

Lucky, you think as you look up at the man above you. Yeah, I’m lucky.

His pacing is held back for fear of hurting you. His long, dark hair sways back and forth in time with his thrusts. His face is contorted, mixed with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure and determination. There’s a little clear, slick spot on the corner of his lips. It slips from between, drips down his chin, and onto your abdomen. Eren wants to apologize, but his teeth are gritted together and he doesn’t want to embarrass either of you with shaky words.

You don’t mind. There’s no need for Eren to apologize. Eren is and always has been a sight for sore eyes, especially for you. And, blessings onto your own soul, you’re getting more butterflies from knowing he’s one of the last things you’ll see and feel than what he’s doing with you.

Your eyes are glued to his. What color are they? Emerald, like the grass? Blue, like the sky? Could they be teal? Yes, that must be it. Though, sometimes you swear they’re gold instead.

Lucky.

You both end up finishing. He keeps himself from collapsing on top of you before asking if you’ll be alright if he bathes. You assure him it’s more than okay as he rubs his thumb over your temple. Some people might be upset at their partner for leaving after what you’ve done, but you understood. Physical contact is hard for soldiers. You know. But Eren promises he’ll be back silently, because he feels guilty about it.

If you had a bit longer, maybe this wouldn’t be the only time you and the boy could do this. Actually, what had even led to it? What had taken it this long? You’d had dinner. The light from the candles came on, and you’d met his gaze. The rest was all steam and blurs.

When your living mate returns, your back is facing from him. You’re watching the fresh drops of rain crash against the window, falling from under a dark grey cast. There will be a thunderstorm tonight. You wonder if Eren will want to stay in your bed tonight, or if he’ll insist on taking the bench.

You feel his hands, previously burning hot, touch your shoulder, now ice cold. The mattress dips under his weight behind you, and then you feel his toned torso flush against you.

His face brushes against your ear so you can hear him speak softly. “I’m sorry if I took too long,” Eren mutters. A few wisps of hair brush against your jaw, but he’s tied it back now.

In one fluid motion, a hand of your own comes to stroke at his cheek. “You didn’t.”

His eyes narrow as he looks down at you, before he pulls away to put his face in the back of your neck. His hand remains around you tight, so you know he wants you right where you are.

You didn’t tell Eren that your time was practically numbered. Maybe it would be weeks, days, or hours. You should’ve told him before you let him inside you, but you’d been a bit distracted. Anxious, too. The moment was worth ruining with something so silly and small. But now it’s done. The only sounds echoing around the cabin is the pitter pattering of the rain, and the oncoming onslaught of booming thunder.

You have to tell him, you say to yourself as his grip on you tightens. Before he tugs your body closer like a lover again.

Before you can speak, Eren mumbles something against the skin of your neck. “Follow my lead.”

What?

He hums for a few seconds. At first, you think it’s just the hum of insanity, random and undefined. The you realize the changes in pitch are too thought out to be random. It’s a song.

“...always picking a fight with me...”

It feels hazy, far away. Sort of heavenly. Even with his low, muffled voice, it’s easy to hear the musical tones oozing from the whole thing.

“...you know I’m bad, but you’re still spending the night with me.”

That line feels more like he’s speaking it into you. It’s personal.

“...what do you want from my world?”

If you had it your way, or his way, there wouldn’t be anybody else but the two of you and your cabin. Still, this also feels like a genuine question. Maybe it is.

There’s a dry kiss placed against your shoulder blade before Eren continues the tune. Humming. And then, “...every night I’m out... killin’, send everyone runnin'...”

Eren pulls you closer against him and inhales somewhat sharply. You crane your neck deeper into the pillow, silently wishing that you could feel his swollen lips against it.

“I know you’re mad at me,” he sings, a bit clearer now. “I have demon eyes.”

Eren’s hand creeps up from your shoulder to your throat, able to choke you if he so wanted. His thumb strokes over your Adam’s apple instead. Eren grants your wish, raising his face so his lips brush over the skin by your jaw instead of the back of your head. A soft kiss is pressed to the area, almost as if he was nervous.

“...they’re looking right through your anatomy...”, he seems to nuzzle against you lightly, though that feels somewhat out of character. “...your deepest fears, I’m not from here...”

Like before, he pushes his head back into your hair. He groans like he’s stretching before going on.

“...to me, you’re clear... transparent. You have a thing for me... it’s apparent...”

The rain is falling harder now.

“...you’re not so bad...”

Eren isn’t bad at all. He sighs against you, his fingers stroking your skin gently.

“...it’s not something I have to try... oh, for the table, as long as I am able... I’m not trying to be bad.”

I’m going to die soon, Eren.

“No... different.”

He doesn’t continue. Only his thumb continues on, circling round and round in an unknowing attempt to express comfort.

“I thought you said you didn’t sing well,” you whisper into the darkness.

“I don’t,” he speaks against you.

What a liar. And you, the lucky one for knowing the truth.

Eren doesn’t move positions until you’ve fallen asleep, at which point he eventually turns his back to you in his own slumber. And Eren knew that you were sick, but he also knew that you were capable.

You weren’t breathing when he woke up.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

I guess that’s that. I think I like it but I’m not sure about the ending. Mine aren’t usually so simple. Maybe I should’ve made it less depressing. Eh.

591 notes · View notes

mypersonmyg · 3 years

Text

Tebori Tapioca | JJK

**beautiful banner made by @monvante <3

pairing: Jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, tattoo au, tea shop au

wc: 15k

warnings: language, slow burn???

summary: a shining beacon in a sea of monotony OR you just might believe in love at first sight

a/n: hi friends, umm so yea this is a fic i’ve been cooking up for a while and as seems to happen with most of my fics there’s definitely room for more but i didn’t wanna go overboard because the last time i did no one read womp womp...

ANYWHO there’s still very much room for this universe to grow whether it be drabbles, smaller oneshots or whatever so if you have requests pls send them !! for this au or any others

honorary tag: @gukssunshine

masterlist

Sunlight filters through an open storefront, natural light shading the room in incandescent glow, the honk of horns just overstating the chirp of the birds perched in overarching trees that line the street. Lights are still lit, strung throughout branches despite the hour slowly inching toward noon.

Your pencil taps a worn pad, the hundredth rotation of the dormant rectangle of sheets providing no more inspiration than ninety-nine and below. You shove the contents along a desk littered in your crumpled defeat, legs kicking to the wooden surface with comforting intent.

It’s not unusual, the stray of your eyes to the shop just a few buildings from the florist decorating the opposing side of the street. A work in progress, a work almost in completion. It’s become a game, the guessing of its contents, the colorful display before it’s displayed intriguing to many passersby. You’re close to pondering a new theory when Jimin interrupts with his entrance from the back, reciting safety to Namjoon’s latest masterpiece.

He whistles an impressive tune following the departure of a satisfied client, rounding his occupied desk and knocking your feet from his cluttered surface. You don’t have time for the countered glare of offense before his words are zeroed in as if he’s been waiting to direct them long before now when your guard is readily disarmed. “You have an office for a reason, why do you always have to sit at my desk.”

“It’s a nice view.”

“I’ll admit that my delicate features leave nothing to the imagination, but I’m tired of cleaning up after you.” His words are emphasized by his hand’s routine swipe, piles of paper tumbling to the can beside him in rapid succession. Your eyes roll, Jimin’s fingers already beginning to type away on his desktop while your pupils track the delicate arch of his digits and your ears listen to the satisfying click of keys. The consideration of locking yourself away in your office trapezes along the wide expanse of your mind, but before it’s made up Jimin is speaking again, this time with an air of factual superiority. “A tea shop.”

“Hmm?”

“The shop down the street, it’s a tea shop.”

“You sound pretty confident,” You hum, eyes darting to the window, turquoise staring back in the fashion of awnings and fresh paint bordering a wooden frame. The sleeves of your sweater bite at your wrist in comforting fuzz, a slight itch along the skin to pull you from quaint interest. “What makes you so sure?”

“Just a feeling, it’s got that certain ambiance, you know?” Jimin’s hands wave with the impression of the ambiance so to speak, his eyes squinted in that way you so adore. The thought crosses your mind on many occasions, to compliment his subtle beauty, but the knowledge of his playfully arrogant counter always draws you from speech.

“Or because we ran into the owner on our way in this morning,” Namjoon chirps in kind, strolling to the lobby, his own pad in hand. He neatly tosses it to the desk, fingers skimming through unkempt hair. “Nice guy, said he might drop in for a consultation sometime.”

“Consultation? Sounds big,” You muse, hand finding your abandoned pencil to drag faint strokes along your page, though even the slight draw brings grimace to your features, dulled in the shadow of your palm pressed to your forehead, easily nudging wisps of loose hair. Namjoon shrugs, a non-committal range of motion, his neck craning over your shoulder to sneak a peek at your lack of a work of art.

He doesn’t speak on it, simply taking in the unfinished strokes, presumably in an attempt to reassure you in the midst of inspiration long lost. You're prepared to assure him that there’s no need for forced encouragement, but he moves on, collapsing onto near plush without a word.

“Says he’s been thinking about it for a while so I told him we could help him out. He also invited us to his opening, said he'd save some tea for us if we’re busy.” Lips pull back, dimples accenting Namjoon’s heavy cheeks.

You’re unsurprised by his amicable tale, recalling your fresh steps into this very shop just a few years prior. Your body was bare of ink and your arms bore only a flimsy book with hopeful sketches. He’d taken in your wide eyed glance and the disappearance of your bottom lip to the gnawing confines of your teeth. His towering height and newly trimmed hair taunting you within the daunting shadow that filled your frame through the doorway.

You chuckle at past memories, wondering how you could ever fear the gentle giant, his lips pulling into ready grin as he showed you to the very desk before you now.

“What’s so funny?” Namjoon calls to you, Jimin halting in his current endeavor to glance the smirk stretching your cheek.

“Nothing, just thinking. Was that your last client for the day?” You grab for the sign-in ledger, finger trailing the thick page, pinky tugging at the pulled edge of a worn corner. Your smirk flips to a frown poorly withheld, the page filled with Namjoon only reminding you that your own supplies need only be sanitized to prevent the collection of dust.

“Yeah, I figured we’d just close shop early today.” Jimin swipes the ledger with a tisk in your direction, not blind to silent thoughts.

“It’s noon, what if someone wants a walk-in?” Your gaze slides to the clock, hands ticking slowly along the round wall piece. It’s not unreasonable to assume someone will come in seeking art of the bodily variety, and your hands itch to prove your worth, even if it lies within an album long binded.

“Then I’m sure they’ll still want it tomorrow.” Namjoon shrugs, his hands folding over his chest forcing the bulge of recently buffed arms. You almost make a joke about the possible tear of the t-shirt hugging his frame, but refrain out of refusal to partake in the pursuance of sure to follow antics. “Besides, it’ll give you more time to work on that.”

You follow the tilt of Namjoon’s hair, long grown out from his routine refusal to take time from his day to get a trim. You often joke that he’ll be gallivanting with a tail soon enough, his thick locks nearly shoulder length as it stands. He often finds himself shaking it from his peripheral with the wrong angling of his head. He motions to your barely done sketch, the page glaring at you with a mocking disgust.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.” You drip sarcasm, pad tossed to your bag and jacket jerked to waiting arms.

~*~

Off-white trim borders the wall of a shop nearly complete, Jeongguk checks and double checks a list stored in the confines of his mental. Aside from constant fear of the opening of doors without the steady flood of patrons he’s eager for business, hard work finally paying its due.

He’s only in for the morning, the steady tick of his wrist a reminder to snap from his obsessive habit, sure that he’ll receive word from Taehyung that he's on his way to drag him from the building. His grin rivals the glare of the sun as his eyes travel a building come together. His hand falls to his arm in dramatic pinch to ensure that his eyes aren’t filled with hopeful deceit.

It fits, he thinks, stepping out onto the walk, key slotting into the door to ensure security. His shop melds perfectly with the heavily lined street, animated tapioca unfinished in the window somehow making sense with the neighboring extravagance of bloom at the near florist and the samples of ink from the tattoo shop across the way. Even the simple thrift shop with it’s objects of interest decorating the window compliments his simple display.

Opportunity hasn’t struck to visit his new neighbors, though he did stumble into a chunk of the owners of one of the shops. He found surprise in the ease with which conversation flowed, his mouth like the babble of a brooke despite the nerves that skipped like pebbles in his stomach and his heart that beat a million miles a minute following their friendly departure.

In his stupor he nearly misses the float of voices a ways down the quietly milling street, but the recognition of a melodic tone draws his gaze.

“I’ll take you for ice cream.” Jeongguk recognizes the voice that seeks to entice as Jimin, though he doesn’t recognize you.

“I’m not a child you know.” Your statement is grumbled, the words echoing that of a childlike pout. Jeongguk can see the movement of your arms as they reach to a playful shove, the rhythmic shift of Jimin’s feet looking routine even from a distance. You choose not to acknowledge Jimin’s coo, his fingers poking at your protruding cheek as if to say Oh but aren’t you?

Jeongguk watches with interest and the initiative to work up the courage to bring acknowledgement to his presence and perhaps introduction to who he expects is the other third of the tattoo shop. You and Jimin are too caught in bickering to notice the figure just feet away, your fingers pinching Jimin’s nose with a countering taunt.

“Can’t I just treat you to a nice frozen treat? I don’t recall that being a crime, but please enlighten me.” You pinch the bridge of your own nose, the scent of freshly packed soil wafting from neatly situated pots.

You spot the poke of pink from one of the tall and timid plants, though you imagine the fragile nature is only by way of visual, Yoongi always diligent with his seedling evolved friends. You make note to beg him to allow the purchase of a precarious plant, an act of teasing to stem from your track record, the memory of shriveled begonias bringing even your shoulders to lift in cringe.

“Are you still talking?” Your gaze shifts back to Jimin, his flow not conscious to your unconscious senses.

“So rude, you should be thanking me for the extra time off.”

“As if I need more time off, but fine, I suppose I can let you treat me as an apology for your ratty transgressions.” You tut. Were your ears peaked and footing less strayed you would’ve noted the distant chuckle of Jeongguk, still standing dormant outside of a dimmed shop.

His thoughts of hurried introduction came to halt with his notice of you. Your voice held a playful jab when you spoke, Jimin’s reactions only animated enough to draw slight attention from your raised tone. Despite your fussing dialogue, your posture was slouched just a tad and your hands fisted into snug jacket sleeves to mimic paws. Jeongguk decides he’d be hard pressed not to be endeared by you in the slightest.

“Wow, I thought I was gonna have to come here and drag you out by the ears.” Hands clap Jeongguk’s shoulders, Taehyung rounding his frame, grin gentle as he regards with relief. “I swear you’d probably live here if I didn’t keep you at bay. What are you--oh she’s pretty.”

The two watch your retreat, your hand easily clasping Jimin's, the swing of connected wrists appearing natural with your stride through the afternoon chill. Jeongguk ignores the flare of his cheeks at the notion of exposure, thankful that Taehyung doesn’t make a show of his ogling.

“Yeah, looks like she’s taken though...you wanna get ice cream?” Taehyung scrunches his nose, wind kissed cheeks held between gloved palms. His scoff is inward, Jeongguk’s suggestion appearing nothing short of ridiculous as the two are swept by a wind that’s particularly biting. While Taehyung shivers, Jeongguk doesn’t appear to mind, hands shoved in his pockets, heels rocking along cracked concrete.

“Do I look like I want to get ice cream? It’s freezing out here and not everyone radiates the warmth of a furnace.”

“Well unlike you, not everyone is so dramatic.”

“Whatever, just get some when we get home.” Taehyung lightly shoves, legs turning in the direction of his car, parked on asphalt, freshly coated by summer’s end.

Jeongguk stares after the winded trail of a billowing pea, your bobbing figure rounding a corner and straying from widened eyes. He sucks through clenched teeth, opportunities knock having been missed at the hands of Taehyung. The clench of fists in pockets goes unnoticed as he rounds on planted heels and makes his way to the car, Taehyung happily staring from the passenger seat waiting with a grin dripping sincerity.

“You definitely owe me for this.”

~*~

You twitch along with the consistent drip of a leaky faucet, the tap of digits on worn ceramic offering a release to limbs without proper use. The biting chill in your toes is only minutely cured by the pilling of four blankets, barely thick enough to rival the wool knit socks Hoseok gifted you last christmas.

You find pause in the sun setting from the window, dim lighting pouring through weak curtains. Your tongue prods at the confines of your mouth, frosted by forced treat and abandoned with the recommendation of a mug of hot cocoa which now rests lukewarm in your clenching palms.

You force your mind to yield, racing in a direction opposite the self destructive course that usually remains dormant until you lay to rest for the evening. Hands numbed by the interference of a numbing chill met with the warmth of a mostly empty mug nearly spilling when your right palm jumps in the direction of your phone, perched on an end table composed of chipping wood and stains too set to resemble anything but a dark pool, a picture puddle fit for galoshes in adolescence.

You wonder if Yoongi’s taken his plants in, the set of cold not nearly the condition for any pending life surely. Though you quickly pull back, recalling a conversation following another mishap, your plant lying limp before the attentive florist, his cheeks rosy from the heat lamps and the temperature set to ensure maximum growth year round. It was with passion that he waxed about the difference between certain plants and the amazing circumstances of their survival.

It was with half amused grin, your head lopsided along the freshly painted door frame that he assured you that if a plant can survive the harsh conditions of the season of cool there was surely one meant to survive you.

You glance to the succulent placed on the sill overlooking your sink. You had been indignant at Yoongi’s insistence that you take it, almost begging that he give you one of the smiling pink numbers reflecting in the window rather than the less impressive green poking from the dirt of a tiny hand painted pot. Yoongi’s reaction was much the same, innocence painting his rose blushed cheeks as he explained the beauty of every plant, sure to continue on until you gently removed the pot from his fingers.

Now the once shy note of green was large enough to cover your palm, a bright spot in the dark of your apartment, falling apart at the hands of purposeful ignorance from an absent landlord.

A sharp tap against your front door draws your gaze, pointed as if to break the barrier of solid wood. You don’t notice the spill of your drink until warmth slips through your sweater, arm jerk sending the mug careening to shatter. The pieces decorate the floor with a colorful tap to pair with the running of dark liquid along the hardwood.

“Shit.” Words muttered in haste, one of many blankets piled in swaddle is heaved to the floor, your legs lifting you from the chair and gently to clothed knees. Cocooning the glass in the thick material you stand to full height when another tap draws you. Your hands tug at your sweater, the seep of the liquid already beginning to set in and your skin grows irritated from the unwanted intrusion. “Coming!”

You glance to the spot where chocolate dances along the edges of your braided rug, the centerpiece itching to soak up what it can manage of the chocolatey drink, already dreading the work of scrubbing to prevent permanent damage. Making your way to the door your feet stride in a half walk half slide along hardwood, tripping up due to the soiled bits of fabric sticking to your feet and resisting a usually easy trek along the hardwood. The pull of the door is a surprise, an unfamiliar face staring back at you with a geometrically flattering smile.

“Hello…” Your words are drawn and rasped, a mixture of the lack of dialogue and settling curiosity.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung.” There’s no deterrence from Taehyung at your lack of reciprocated enthusiasm, just the shake of locks, shaggy and shielding his eyes that appear to glisten in the flicker of the hall lights. His eyes brighten in recognition, though you can’t seem to separate his stare from the reflection of his shocking irises and simply accept his hand as it slowly extends.

“Y/n. Is there something I can help you with?” You attempt a glance around his ever present frame in hope for an explanation, but the notion is non-existent so you wait as he gathers his own. You don’t miss the wandering of his eyes to the open of your apartment but don’t call him on it, an entrance composed of nothing more than a table and a crooked portrait gifted by Jin. You can hear his distant cackles as he positioned it just perfectly before the door.

“Actually I was gonna ask you how to work the heat in this place, but you look about as warm as me so…” He shifts on his heels unsure, taking in your heavily bundled appearance.

You tug once more at your stained sweater, your face heating with recollection of the soiled garment still clinging to you, now with more fervor from the added moisture. Your thick socks are layered over a pair only slightly less so and your legs appear heavily padded under two pairs of dense sweats. “You must be new here.”

Taehyung shrugs, half a step taken in retreat. He tilts his head just so, gesturing to the vacant hall, a door half ajar allowing the flood of light to illuminate the peel of ancient wallpaper. Not for the first time you wish you’d taken Jimin up on his spare room. “Yeah, just officially moved in today. We’re down the hall, heard the apartment’s been vacant for a while and it seemed nice enough.”

“But no one told you that the heat only works correctly on a good day, sounds about right.”

“And our shower--”

“Leaks?” You finish, the distant drip from your kitchen just audible over your speech. Your thumb pushes against the bow of your pursed lips, teeth grabbing hold of roughened skin whilst you watch the turn of cogs tumbling before you.

“Yeah...should I call the landlord?” His brows knit at your nonchalance, thumb jerking to his apartment. You almost chuckle, covering your outburst with a quick tilt of your head. The simplicity of the suggestion seems only to add to the hilarity of the situation.

“Sure, but I’d recommend investing in a space heater and keeping a couple of tools handy. I’m not wearing four layers to make a fashion statement.” Your fingers drum along the frame of your door, the gentle tap carrying between you in soft silence. “Well...welcome to the building and sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“Guess someone had to be,” His throat clears in chuckle, hand tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie, the strings hanging lopsided where his hood lay half scrunched at the base of his neck. His thumb lifts to trace the corner of his mouth, shifted in that same grin that greeted you minutes prior, though this time your return is swift and without the same haze that accompanied his unfamiliar presence. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Taehyung turns on his heel at the pace of the gears turning in his brain, swift stride carrying him back to his door, yours clicking shut along the shells of his ears. He pushes into his residence, door squeaking on hinges as it closes in his wake. Straight for the living room he makes haste with lengthy stride, spotting Jeongguk who swallows the couch with his body, spread as much as the lengthened cushion will allow. He peeks from his curtain of hair, dangling at the angle of his head, blinking with the poke of a follicle gently prodding his pupil.

“So?” He pushes up to a sit, nearly knocking his phone from the arm where it’s perched without care. His shoulders shake from the mix of cold and anticipation, mistaking the grin that Taehyung sports as a triumphant mission.

“Oh this place is spectacularly shitty, my friend. Looks like we’ll be snuggling like penguins if we wanna get warm tonight.” As if to punctuate his vivid explanation, Taehyung slides dangerously close to where Jeongguk remains sitting, legs brushing as he sinks into the already heated seat.

Jeongguk nudges to the sharp of Taehyung’s shoulder, encouraging him further inward with a defeated groan. He’s sure he catches the scent of something similar to carpet that’s been left to mildew, but he attributes it to imagination. Somehow this very apartment seemed a saving grace just a month ago. “I knew we should’ve splurged on that loft. Why are you smiling?”

“Hm, so that girl that you were staring at earlier, you know her?” Taehyung doesn’t shy from his urge to throw himself over Jeongguk’s lap, ignoring the squint scrutiny from above. He pokes at the underside of Jeongguk’s chin, teasing a reaction from him, grimace evident from the suction of his cheeks.

“Not exactly, I know the guy she was with though. They own the tattoo shop, why?” Taehyung braces his head with one hand, the other grabbing hold of the string dangling from his clothes, rolling the aglet between agile fingers. He ponders the thought of revealing that just beyond moth eaten wallpaper and the cracks of a concrete hall you await just a few doors down.

“Just a question. You didn’t think I would just leave it, did you?” Jeongguk’s nose scrunches because he did in fact find that avenue favorable among the chosen. Taehyung pats his muscled thigh with a patronizing shake of the head, hair already tangling with the push of his heavy skull to Jeongguk’s tough jeans.

“So what, she’s cute, not like I know anything about her. I’m more concerned with making it through the night without contracting pneumonia or risking the complete freeze of my limbs.”

The two seem to scoot closer at the thought, Taehyung now pushed against Jeongguk’s abdomen. They paint quite a picture on their second hand furniture, couch in need of stitching at the seams and the questionable stain that inhabited it upon arrival nipping at the press of Taehyung’s socked feet into the cushion.

Fatigue abandoned the task of unloading boxes that litter the expanse of open flooring and leftover furniture. Their energy fueled endeavor long forgotten along with the memory of comforting warmth. They both ponder the idea of retreating to respective rooms, but find it would be a miracle if they could manage to pull themselves from half comfort, abandoning the hope of body heat against the chill of the shared space.

Audible groan travels the four walls when a gentle fist beats against the door. Taehyung shoves at Jeongguk’s shoulder, a silent appeal to the younger to make sacrifice and leave their cocooned warmth. Jeongguk won’t be swayed, his arms easily finding the weight of Taehyung’s side and nudging enough to send him careening to the floor with a resounding thud.

Grumbles and groans of the incoherent leave Taehyung’s mouth, amused giggles falling from Jeongguk whose legs are now pulled to drink in the heat left behind. Taehyung stops for a moment, thinking that his timely trek was wasted, opposing party’s fist meeting wood no more. He gently opens the door, head ducking around the corner, foot stepping out only to stub into something surely placed for such an occasion as his physical reckoning.

He foregoes subtly, mouth unhinging and curses falling akin to rocks from a cliff side, the echo bouncing against concrete and soaking into the slips and edges of the silent walls. Jeongguk ambles around the corner with concern etched features, the draw of his eyes landing on his roommate, leg at an angle and clutched whilst he leans against the doorframe.

Jeongguk squeezes past, kneeling to pluck the sticky posted from the top of what appears to be a space heater. His eyes scan the crisp note, glancing down the hall with the knowledge that the perpetrator is surely long gone. “Dude, you good?”

“Stubbed my fucking toe,” Taehyung strains. Jeongguk let’s him sulk, hiding a purposeful grin from the dramatist leaning over him. “What is that anyways.”

“Space heater.” He passes the note, Taehyung scans it quickly with a hum. He doesn’t miss the look he’s receiving from Jeongguk, aware of the name scribbled along the tiny parchment. “Was nice of them. What did you say anyways?”

“Nothing really, guess I’m just a natural charmer.”

~*~

“Will you tell her that she should just move in with me like I suggested in the first place?” Jimin snags on the thick of Namjoon’s t-shirt, pulling him from his task, resituating his glasses along his face rather than the slide to the tip of his nose that seemed a regular occurance. You choose to ignore the commotion, back to sweeping dust and scattered leaves from the entrance of the shop.

Your living situation, less than ideal, often leads you to Jimin’s door, his spare room rather drenched in your deposited belongings. It’s his futile mission to persuade you to trade up from your desolate one bedroom with it’s desperate calling for tlc and take permanent residence in his humble abode just uptown.

It’s foolish not to consider, but you always find the scrape of your teeth roughening the budded surface of your tongue when he turns to you with his grin of sweet saccharine nearly once a week. You don’t know what it is about the cracks that seem to shimmy further up the walls with each passing minute or the breaks in the tile that beg an earthquake decades off, but you aren’t quite ready to part with it.

“If you want me to stop coming over just say so,” You huff, fully aware that’s not the case but sure it’ll throw Jimin for a curve with enough distance to keep him at bay.

He sputters, releasing Namjoon with a gentle shove, “That’s not it and you know it! I just don’t see why you stay there, it’s so...broken.”

“I’ll have you know that I-”

“Have lived there since you came here blah blah blah, we know. Oh hey, a customer! Would you look at that,” Jimin’s over enthused response following a set of feet flooding through draws your next words to thin air, replaced with a well meaning grin. His perked posture slumps when he realizes that it is not in fact a patron looking to empty their wallet. “Oh, it’s just Hobi-hyung.”

“Thanks for the sunshine,” Hoseok counters, elbows covered with a patched overcoat resting along the edge of Jimin’s desk. Though his words hold a tinge of sarcasm, he’s all smiles as he regards you. Much like Namjoon he sports his frames today, wide and rectangular perched along the bridge of his nose. From the opening of his coat you smirk at the peak of a bright yellow sweater, an animation practically dancing along the expanse of his chest.

“Guess it’s a good thing that’s your job,” Namjoon pats him on his way to his office, returning with a box overflowing with garments and books. It’s not unusual that the two of them exchange goods, Hoseok’s thrift always looking for ways to fill the shelf.

It surprised you in the beginning, the flow of people who seemed to always leave his shop holding something to their chest like it was the world stuffed into a novelty bag. That was before Hoseok insisted that you visit yourself, sure you’d find something of interest. He wasn’t perturbed by skepticism, it only seemed to fuel the glint of a thousand galaxies that flared in his concentrated stare.

You’d ambled the lot for a good thirty minutes, fingers gliding along shelves so sturdy it came as a shock that he installed them himself, the wiggle of his elongated fingers when you recited the thought still fresh. It was the belief of Hoseok, in his own words, that there was a magic in places like his. A magnetic pull that would lead you to just the thing you need, often times things he himself didn’t even know he possessed.

“The rest is all in good fun,” He’d finished with that smile that rivaled the shine of the largest star glistening from above.

Your magic was nestled in the thick of it all, buried beneath someone else’s waiting fortune. It was the far corner that drew you, something about it just a shade darker than the rest of the large room. You’re unsure what possessed you, ignoring the insistence of magic cycling through the heavy air conditioning as you pillage through a pile of neatly folded quilts and the random placement of a busted stereo.

“Find something?” Hoseok appeared, head resting just over your shoulder. Your crouch betrayed you and were it not for quick reflexes and a helping hand the bust of your ass was sure to find the floor. Hoseok stood with a pool of change shaking in his palm and his neat smile waiting for you to putter around with your find.

“It’s just a necklace, nothing special.”

“Still, take it, you never know.” He was insistent that you leave with the silver chain, an onyx pendant dangling from the end and even more so that, rather than pay him, you admit that there’s something in the air. You agreed, but your reluctance was only truly squashed when you found yourself adorning the necklace more than your usual jewelry reserved for occasion.

“Hey, did you guys hear about the tea shop opening up?” Hoseok plants himself on Jimin’s desk, ignoring the playful glare burning a hole in his side. Namjoon rests the box on the ground next to him with a grunt, clear on Hoseok’s intention to linger as long as time will allow rather than collecting his treasure and hurrying back to his own place of work.

“Jimin and I met the owner yesterday, he seems like a really nice guy.” Namjoon fills before Jimin has the chance to allow his jaw to unhinge, no doubt planning to flaunt his basic knowledge like privileged information.

“That’s nice. Rumor has it he specializes in boba.” You would chuckle were it not for the wild look in Hoseok’s eyes, his hands painting imaginary rainbow before slotting through the pockets of his coat. His feet steadily tap tap against the tile, the gentle nod of his head not at all unusual but nonetheless intriguing. “It’ll be so nice not having to drive a town over just to have a nice tapioca pearl.”

“You know they sell those, you could make your own.” Your words are all but lost on the eccentric businessman, his tactic to avoid information displeasing to his interests taking full effect. His body angles, half hiding a chuckling Jimin from your view. Sliding the broom to the near closet, not unaware of leaves sadly crumpled against the tile from Hoseok’s timely entrance, but not bothered enough to scoop them into the waiting bin, you make haste to your office slipping between the door slightly ajar. “Right. Well I’m gonna go try to get some work done.”

You release a stuttered breath upon the gentle click of your door, mumbled dialogue just barely pushing through the thick wood. Air puffs your cheeks in half contemplation, silence stealing the inspiration that seemed to dance before you, brain now only half awake as time seems to dwindle at the speed of sound. Instead of the reach for a waiting pad and the scatter of ballpoint colors staring from your desk unused and impatient, you grab for a volume that seems to scream from the near bookshelf.

It begs the recollection of time well spent, a pang in your chest follows a rushing to the surface as if air tearing from lungs lacking capacity. Your full weight collapses to your chair, recently upgraded at Namjoon’s insistence that nursing the squeaky four wheeler that threatened to collapse with the wrong release of breath violated his own moral codes before the hushed mumble about legal repercussions. You aren’t complaining, the upgrade makes you feel like a permanent staple, especially when your mind is convinced that layoff is imminent.

Your fingers trace the smooth cover of hardback, reckoning with the ache to feel the crisp of unturned pages and avoid the buildup that follows suit. It’s the not knowing that tugs at the precipice of your flowing mind, wishing for diagnosis from a stagnant flow of a previous gold mine.

Your ears peak at the surge of voices layering the lobby, though your mind squashes the urge for a slip back into the throw of pleasant chatter. You draw a drawer, fishing for half tangled buds, slipping them into your heightened canals to drown with the sounds of your latest fix.

~*~

The lift of Jeongguk’s gaze as heavy feet carry him past the fluorescent sign of Uhgood Tattoo and through the ringing entrance is subtle enough as doe eyes scan the lengthy space for a feminine form. He’s met with null, but the snag of his pupils on a wall of intricacy almost distracts from the loiter of men staring straight for him and Taehyung who is decidedly less preoccupied.

“Jeongguk, nice to see you again!” Namjoon booms over every voice in the room. His arms are half open in eager acceptance and Jeongguk leads Taehyung to the settled group, one last sweep still leaving him wanting for an introduction or a glimpse at best. “We were actually just talking about you.”

“About me?” His tone toes between surprise and unease, lips puckering in the shape of ‘oh’ and steps stuttering against the crunch of leaves slipping along linoleum.

“Yeah, Hoseok here was just saying how excited he is that you moved in. He owns the thrift shop just across from you.”

Hoseok doesn’t need much introduction before he’s centered in front of Jeongguk, smile glinting and hands reaching for the younger man with much fervor. Jeongguk would find the proximity daunting were it not for the friendly face reflecting in his widened irises. His chest rumbles, glad to place a face to bright signs and eccentric displays.

“Nice to meet you, we’re all glad to have a new face on our little strip. I’m especially glad to have an excuse to save myself from Jin’s questionable experiments in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s hand has yet to stop its steady shake of Jeongguk’s, too caught in words, leaving his mind’s body on its own. “Feel free to drop by my shop anytime, I love seeing new faces. Plus-”

“Here we go…” Jimin cuts, feigned exasperation coating his pitched tone before he excuses himself to the back of the shop. His exit isn’t swift enough to hide the exasperation of the puff of air that gaps his lips.

“There’s a special kind of magic in a shop like mine and because you just moved in the first trinket is on the house!”

“Oh magic? Taehyung’s really into that stuff, we’ll stop in sometime.” He gestures to his friend whose hands are shoved to the thick of his sweatshirt, lips pushed inward with the suck of his cheeks. “This is him by the way, Taehyung, he’s my partner of sorts at the cafe and my roommate.”

“Yeah, though the last one is questionable at the moment. Nice to meet you guys, this place is sweet! Do you do piercings by any chance?” As if by pure luck Jimin’s stepping back into the room, his eyes set ablaze with passion by the innocent inquiry.

“Piercings are my specialty actually, I can pierce any and everything!” His hands clasp to Taehyung’s shoulder, glad for excitement out of the realm of files and spreadsheets. Taehyung, surprised by the eager response, can only seem to nod along to the spew that falls from Jimin’s lips that near miles per minute. “Are you interested? I’d be happy to show you our collection.”

“This could take a while,” Jeongguk is startled by the presence of Namjoon somehow closer than before. Jimin is still spouting about his work to his potential client, Jeongguk takes in Taehyung’s features in search of a signal for help, but only finds him painted with interest and intrigue at the bundle of knowledge that is Park Jimin. Namjoon gestures to a hall along the far wall, a couple of paintings half crooked beckoning them forth. “We can talk about those tattoos if you’re interested?”

The buzz that surges in the cavity of his chest is answer enough, companied with the vigorous nod of his head, curls bouncing against the frame of his cheeks. “That would be great!”

Namjoon easily falls into the roll of guide, leading the two down the hall and past a couple of doors tightly sealed. The walls are a dark shade, set aglow by the heat of fixtures hanging overhead. Even in the dim setting, Jeongguk finds his head swiveling in every direction, thirsting to take in every inch of the place. In his haste he nearly trips over a section of flooring slightly raised, likely the result of settled foundation over many years. He decides rather quickly in favor of the building, the character of the interior clashing rather nicely with the updated signage on the outside.

‘We’ve got a few different stations for working,” Namjoon speaks up, drawing Jeongguk’s attention back. “We do them in the section off the side of the lobby if the customer is comfortable and it’s nothing major, but we also have private rooms that we as the artists like to use depending on the project.”

“That’s what these rooms are?” Jeongguk reaches with a pointed finger, tracing the expanse of the wooden frame, chipped and roughened, to a closed door. Rather than plaquing to decipher between the various enclosures there are framed sketches posted outside of each, nothing a newcomer like himself could pick up on, clearly contributed by the owners.

“For the most part, there’s my office and Y/n’s, and a storage closet but this is where the magic happens.” Namjoon allows Jeongguk a path to his office, door shutting in their wake with a dull thud.

It’s less decorated than Jeongguk was expecting, the barely bare walls outside of the office building up the anticipation of the canvas that must be spread within. Instead there’s nothing put bright white, almost blinding compared to what he’s seen so far. There are a few framed photos of Jimin, himself, and you; all smiling in various scenarios of glee. Other than the placement of a decently sized shelf in the corner and the desk perched along the adjacent wall this office gives no indication of Namjoon’ s labyrinthine line of work.

Even so, Namjoon appears highly intimidating as he takes a seat at his desk, gesturing Jeongguk to the comfortable chair across. Jeongguk is well aware that he doesn’t mean to give the impression of a boss, straight backed and fingers laced over mahogany, but that doesn’t make it any less so.

“So!” Namjoon speaks with triumph, his gauntlet the toss of the pen that had previously dangled from the fold of pierced ears. “You have any idea what you’re looking for in the ink department? I figure we can start with graphics and then discuss placement to see who the best fit would be for you.”

“Best fit?” Jeongguk leans forward, boots squeaking obscenely on the tile beneath. His cheeks flush at lack of knowledge, feeling as if the words spewed were foreign when in reality it was a jolt sent to the creases of his spine and straight to the red soaked appendage in his upper chest. While he’s entered this room with the assumption that Namjoon would be his sole artist, there lay a chance that the two of you will come face to face.

“Yeah, Y/n and I are both good at what we do but of course we both have our specialties. So we like to decide our clients that way sometimes.” Namjoon’s explanation leaves him none the wiser to hidden meanings and the hopeful perk of Jeongguk’s shoulders.

“Oh. I haven’t met Y/n yet,” He wonders if you rest behind one of the many doors leading to this one, sketching away on what he’s sure can only be a masterpiece. “Is she around?”

“Yeah...I don’t wanna disturb her though. Maybe she’ll be in the lobby when we’re finished here.” Namjoon’s words are sincere though his eyes seem to drift far off, their target the window over Jeongguk’s shoulder, shadowed by the growth of a large tree, branches dwarfing the ground outside. His trance is but a moment, focusing once more on the man before him. “What did you have in mind for your tattoo?”

“Well, actually, I was wondering if you guys use the tebori method here? I know it’s more widely used in japan, but I don’t really see myself heading over there anytime soon.” This shop isn’t the first that Jeongguk has scoped in hope of an artist with an extra element of technique, the buildup for disappointment resting in a rehearsed expression. He watches the myriad of expressions that Namjoon cycles through, almost as if the answer rests against the tip of his tongue, but he’s unsure if it’s the correct one. “It’s totally fine if—”

“We do.” He speaks without much expression save for the way his spine seems to cave inward as he continues to think. Jeongguk isn’t sure whether he should continue speaking, choosing instead to study the tilt of a pen on the desk, threatening to roll to the floor if it dances any longer at the edge of the surface. His nerves itch to grab for the object for some form of reprieve, afraid that the pending clatter will disturb Namjoon’s steady concentration and perhaps the calm mask that he appears to be sporting.

His head tilts a tad, curls falling over one pupil, the other spying Namjoon as if zeroing in on a target, nearly scrutinizing the pensive thinking with his galaxy gaze. He can see that just past the roof of Namjoon’s head there lies a single divot in the wall, nearly tricking the bump of accidental furniture, but Jeongguk’s own fist clenches in recognition, thumb tracing the jag of his knuckles.

“Y/n is the only person here that can tattoo with that particular technique, she’s amazing at it really, I’m just not sure if she’ll be up for it right now.” Namjoon’s words seem to pain him to utter, a strained longing in his voice that’s indecipherable without context. Jeongguk only nods along, curiosity curbed by his unyielding sense of etiquette in a situation that doesn’t wholly concern him. His feet are already pressing against the flooring, prepared to push to his feet and exchange pleasantries and assurance of no hard feelings, but Namjoon doesn’t seem quite through, leaving Jeongguk’s position to an awkward one hanging from the edge of his seat. “I don’t wanna speak for her though, so maybe you two can talk.”

“Okay, should I set up an appointment?”

“No, I think I heard her leave her office, she’ll probably be in the lobby. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you now.” Namjoon’s mouth is once again split in dimpled grin, leaving Jeongguk’s head to a spinning akin to a child’s top. He’s led from the room, paying extra attention to the hall, ears itching to pick up a tone much higher than those in the lobby he left only a short time ago.

Contrary to Namjoon’s inference, the lobby is emptier than when they left, Jimin and Taehyung the only ones left milling about. Their speech mimics old friends, Jimin poking at Taehyung with the smile of someone who knows something that no one else does, Taehyung simply replying in kind with half grin.

“I thought I heard, Y/n.” Namjoon directs his voice at Jimin, fingers tapping the surface of his desk whilst his eyes take inventory of the shop. Jeongguk wonders if he thinks you’re hiding behind one of the plants situated in the corner, waiting for the perfect moment to catch them off guard.

“Mm, she left. But not before this one got his flirt on,” Jimin’s elbow catches Taehyung’s rib with a sharp jab coloring his words. Taehyung doesn’t allow this to phase him, standing to his feet with a shrug of nonchalance.

“Not flirting, we just happen to know each other. You done here?” He aims at Jeongguk stepping with purpose toward the door. Neither makes eye contact, the subject of interest not particularly left to the category of unmentionable, but leaving them both awkward and stiff.

“Uh, I think so.” Jeongguk slants so that Namjoon is well in his sights, already typing vigorously on his phone screen. “Should I schedule something or…?”

“Don’t worry about it, I have your number so I’ll just have Y/n give you a call to see when you guys meet.”

Jeongguk stands a moment longer, his toes tapping to the leather roof of boots so chunky they seem to swallow him from toe to ankle, the footwear attempting to take from his lengthy form and failing miserably. He turns mid-step when Taehyung slaps lightly at the sleeve of his jacket, urging him to step beyond the threshold. He lifts his arm to half wave, mumbling pleasantries, barely audible of the steps that echo in his ears with each pace onto the desolate sidewalk.

Jeongguk heads toward his own shop, missing the realization of the lack of paired steps with his own. Several paces behind him, a subtle guilt dressing the plains of his cheeks, Taehyung tugs at the wear of half chapped lips, wondering if the broach of a hazy subject is necessary. He catches Jeongguk easily with a jog, nearly stilling him mid-stride but saved from the extra physicality by the passing of a car.

“You know...Jimin was just joking.” Jeongguk’s brows lift, clearly only just catching sight of his constant companion, his own thoughts carrying him along the street without a wayward glance. His eyes widen, unsure of Taehyung’s intentions or the direction of the current topic. “About Y/n, I mean. I don’t really know her and we don’t flirt.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just—look I know you saw her the other day and I’m willing to bet the only reason you haven’t mentioned that you’re intrigued is because you thought she was dating Jimin.” Taehyung treads, careful to avoid the gaze of reddened cheeks, Jeongguk’s hand raising to a nudge at his soft lobe, the other clenching and unclenching in denim blue, nails scratching the rough of fabric with each clasp. “Well clearly they’re not dating, so it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you did like her is all I’m saying.”

“Like I said, I don’t really know her. I think she’s cute, from a distance anyways, but I don’t think that’s any reason for a declaration.” The gentle tick of the crosswalk draws Jeongguk's attention on the present path to the opposing side of the street, ignoring the gentle tick of his chest.

A shining beacon in a sea of monotony. The words that filtered like a mantra, dressing the walls of his clogged brain, overflowing from files and dancing with the fires in tipped bins. Taehyung’s words extinguish the licking flames, if only momentarily, with meticulous reassurance.

A pocket of vibration, dark and clinging to his chilled skin, is notification for incoming correspondence. His steps skip, tripping along asphalt, saved only by the subtle grasp of a steady hand. His thanks are dropped without hesitation, hand slipping from fabric confines with the heavily encased lifeline pulsing with power.

From: Unknown [ 2:25pm]~is this jeongguk? namjoon gave me your number, said you need a consult?

From: Me[ 2:26pm]~yea...this is y/n im guessing?

His eyes pierce the screen, undressing the words with precision, ensuring he doesn’t make a fool in reply. He wasn’t prepared for the quick interception of the conversation he’s still processing, inner workings too focused on what’s straight ahead, not minutely prepared for Namjoon's speedy deliverance.

From: Unknown [ 2:30pm]~ding ding ding. im pretty much free whenever, so let me know what works with you and we can meet to discuss what you need and whether im the person for the job

From: Me[ 2:33pm]~ how about tomorrow around this time?

From: Unknown [ 2:34pm]~ cool. let’s meet at the park around the corner

And now, he waits.

~*~

The first thing you noticed was his approach, a confidence in his stride yet eyes that tried and failed to hide the glisten of steady orbs and the kiss of wind landing atop the surprising density of his cheeks like the piling of new snow. Your legs were crossed at the ankle, bare skin grazed by the cool of grass half dried by the desert chill, hands gripping the accumulation of sleeve inched to the open of your palm whilst your lips curved in mimic at the pout of his own, unintentional but perfectly protruding with the tracking of your steady tilt.

If one were to ask about the slight tremor in your hand or the subtle inch across inches between, you would fail to mention the metaphorical personality of your pulsing appendage and the ooz of liquid red abandoning the organ overflowed to trace the expanse of veins humming with the melodic string of laughter yet to abandon the space since he first spoke. You were immediately taken with soft speech and stolen glances, the professional tossed aside when you asked him to meet you, altogether forgotten when he said hello.

The pulsing was stunned only momentarily when he withdrew, hand disappearing into deep pockets to pose leather-bound pages and the hesitant stretch of muscles, the quick twitch of his neck the line of a rod, drawing you forward with each gentle reel of innocence. Now you sit, tangled in silent adoration, dripping admiration for the collaged pages, soaked in brilliance.

“These are yours?” You stroke the page with the ease of your pointer, his head tilting, hair framing, whilst he nods in a lopsided grin. You don’t notice the glue to your cheek, his eyes steady studying you while you study the glide of his hand with jet black against the white page.

He wonders if you catch the nerves, the steady vibration of his unsteady palms, gentle leap of muscled thigh and the brush of your leg with each accidental inch closer. The proximity did him in, your face from a distance only a picture on a page, face to face giving him the overwhelming sensation of the walk through a gallery filled with seven wonders, their spectacle meaningless without the promise of you.

He pretended for a moment, between laughter and brushes of innocence that he’s known you a lifetime, the thought only pulling at his metaphorical strings because he wishes he had. Your voices echo is sure to leave him wide eyed and ceiling bound for nights to come, imagining the galaxy as you, white expanse the only thing keeping from the grip he so wishes he could establish on the slip of your time here.

He knows it’s insanity, thoughts that won’t leave him be, the closeness driving him further to the edge. It’s the reason for his transition to the journal, the reason you’re perched in the grass with the whipping wind and dead leaves skirting around you.

“It’s just some ideas I have, I jot them down so I don’t forget. I was hoping we could work on them, flesh them a bit more…” Your gaze leaves the page, magic dwindling a sum, aghast at the audacity in his words. You withdraw, clenching fists to rationalize the wait for rejection on your behalf.

“Why me? I mean, you’ve seen Namjoon’s work, he’s great.”

“He said that you’re skilled in the tebori method. I’d like them to be done in that style and not many people can. Plus, I’ve seen your work too, it’s just as amazing.” Jeongguk notes the deflation, not unaware of Namjoon’s warning. He’s tempted to pry, but reverses hoping to stumble upon neutral territory, already missing the strain of your muscles in smile. “But obviously it’s only if you’re comfortable. I don’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“You’re not, I just...can I think about it? I know that’s so incredibly unprofessional of me but—”

“Take as long as you need.” Jeongguk decides immediately he doesn’t need an explanation, that your rumination is the promise of another rendezvous, high hopes lifting him over the horizon of the midday sun, skin aching for the glow of golden hour.

You already know you’ll say yes, outright rejection never an option, the flicker of expression alight in your left receptacle more than reason to feel him once more. The physical is through the page, but the metaphorical is the connection of souls, the cliché of one person and the hope of renewed ardor.

“I promise I won’t be long…” The words hang, heavy in the air between and with more meaning than your intent. You’re led away by the weight of obligation, required assistance from Jimin to cover the desk, legs like infant limbs after an hour unmoving.

Jeongguk follows suit, still chewing the words before spewing his own right back. The same weight and familiarity in his soft deliverance.

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, you climb.

~*~

“How was your date?” Jimin is already setting up his station, eyes not sparing a glance, concentration wholly reserved. His vibration is palpable, though you don’t immediately notice, the feeling still finding stringed limbs when you reach your seat behind the desk.

“I was meeting a client,” You speak hollow and unconvincing, the magic coursing through your veins begging to differ. Wonder is silent, eyes latching to the single eye muraled to the wall, imagining it to glisten like Sirius reflecting in the night sky, musing how one day could build a coherency of such magnetism yet still be held at arm’s length.

“Oh really? It’s just that, I never meet my clients at the park...” His voice is a hum, settling an array of options for the post pierce browse. “—it’s certainly a bonus that said client is very handsome and already seems pretty interested.”

“You’ve never even seen us in the same room, I just met him today.”

“Whatever. I assume he’ll be coming around a lot more.”

Your fingers grasp the nearest instrument, ballpoint clicking in time with the tap of your toe against the leg of the chair. “I don’t know if I’m gonna agree. I don’t want him to be disappointed in the result.”

“I know you think you’re old news, but the fact that you didn’t say no is reason enough. There’s clearly a part of you that wants to, so why not take the plunge?”

“I can’t say yes just because I feel some strange attraction to him. That would be inappropriate,” Your mind barely registers the entrance of figure three, a client you presume, the sign-in ledger already halfway across the desk when Jimin speaks again.

“So you are attracted to him?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yes you did,” Your pen clatters, nimble fingers swooping it in your absence, Taehyung’s smirk a playful gleam to counter your startled posture. He greets Jimin as an old friend, the two waiting for you to catch up, the slouch of your spine and the configuration of the scene pulling you back into the current take.

“You’re the one getting a piercing?” Wheels push the foundation, abandoning the desk in favor of the plush leather Taehyung has already sunken into. You believe he feels at home, the decorative jewelry already hanging from his lobes the badge of a pierced veteran.

“Yeah, I figure it’s time to expand my collection.” His hand brushes the lengthy edges of his dark locks, leaving ample space for Jimin to reach his target, the depth of his gaze landing on your arch over the chair’s arm. “I’m assuming your meeting went well?”

“What do you know about my meeting?”

“Why do you think I was here yesterday? The piercing was just a bonus,” He pokes at the tray beside him, the light smack of Jimin’s hand drawing him back to the confines of his lounge. You try to connect dots lost in the fray of day to day. Taehyung is not entirely new to you though still unfamiliar, but you don’t recall the mention of Jeongguk during his earlier visits.

“So you guys know each other then?” Your disbelief finds Jimin, his hand’s busied with extra sanitation and his lips focusing hard to keep his face straight. “I’m assuming I’m simply the last to know, okay then.”

“It’s just circumstance really, I’m the one who came to your door, you were in your office when we came here yesterday and he was in Namjoon’s office when you came out. I promise he wasn’t avoiding you, quite the opposite actually.” You’re too intrigued for embarrassment, your attention handed tenfold to Taehyung, his head slightly tilted while Jimin readies to pierce him.

As of late the stench of disinfectant would trigger a memory you were fighting hard to shield from the surface, but the idea of not knowing more of Taehyung drives it from your mind, currently on one track and unwavered by anything that’s not Jeongguk. Even so, there’s a haze, or perhaps the attempt of common sense forcing you to look past the filter of brights to truly grasp reality.

“We’d never met before today, how could he possibly be looking for me?”

“We actually saw you a few days ago, before you and I officially met. You and Jimin were leaving the shop and he seemed pretty distracted by you, but he thought you two were dating.” Your laughter emits in breathy sighs, muddled by the fluttering in your abdomen, Jimin’s lips smug, shoulders rounded.

“Easy mistake, we’d make a cute couple.” It would be a fib to deny that it’s the first time it’s been thought that you and Jimin were more than friends. His neighbors foolishly believe your late nights are spent anywhere save for the couch, silver screen glaring back at your glued lids.

You watch Jimin work, ignoring the bore of Taehyung’s eyes, his focal point to ignore the sharp sting of the needle. He barely flinches, your own body lurching in slight when the needle meets puffed skin. His hand clasps your wrist, pulling you closer, examining the bare skin in earnest.

“You don’t have any tattoos...none that I can see at least.” He notices, jumping to your eyes and back to your arm. He leans forward when Jimin steps away, gathering his studded collection of earrings, reflecting with golds and silver. “That’s pretty interesting considering you give them to other people for a living.”

“Astute observation. I do not have any tattoos visible or otherwise.” Taehyung kisses his teeth, easily opting for a pair reminiscent of chains. You look for judgement, but there’s none in his study of the colorful space, just a curiosity he’s not sure he should breach. “I’ve always wanted one, but I was too scared. Ridiculous but true.”

“Scared of needles?”

“At first maybe. Scared of the permanence of it all. It feels like such a big responsibility, to me at least, to decide what to get tattooed and I’ve never gotten to a point where I could just do it.” You think back to pages bound by leather with frightening immediacy, the conviction with which the they screamed at you almost haunting if not for the beauty of it. Chilling in the details of sketches, moments in time grasped so eloquently. A part of you is certainly jealous, but the other part is so irrevocably drawn to depth and desire. “Hey, Taehyung, is Jeongguk still at his shop by chance?”

“Actually I’m supposed to be meeting him for ice cream after this so he might already be there.” He pulls his device from his jacket, squinting at the screen, thumb gliding in swiftness. “You guys should come!”

“Oh we don’t wanna—”

“I’m in, I’ve been craving a good scoop,” Jimin leaves no room for disagreement, his limbs already at full speed to hurry cleaning his station. “We don’t have any clients and Namjoon is out of town for the day, so I think we’re good to close up. Plus, you can tell Jeongguk you’ll take him on.”

“I never said I would,” You slide back into your jacket, tucking your limbs into the sleeves. The sky has darkened significantly since the dusting of rays that splashed your skin as you sprawled the grass barely an hour earlier.

“You never said you wouldn’t.” The two are like stooges, already mastering the collaborative effort to challenge you.

“Have fun with your ice cream, I’m, hopefully, going home to a heated apartment.”

~*~

Jin has been talking to Jeongguk since he entered, the recognition of the new young entrepreneur on the strip catching his attention without pause. He’s a nice guy, his energy something Jeongguk would appreciate on any given day, but he was hoping for a moment of collection before Taehyung arrived.

He’s stuck on a blur, the low heat of his skin and the canals of his ears, yearning for the vibration of laughter and soft words spoken beneath the breeze. It was easy and good, an hour lost, an hour found. He would’ve laid there in the grass for hours after your departure were in not for the chill that crept in so easily without you beside him.

He wonders if it was a mutual feeling or if your reaction was just polite, a business tactic. No. Not you, you’re not the type to pretend, he knows even if he doesn’t know. Your sincerity was like a sickness, spilling from your every crevice, pouring out with your every phrase. He’s sure even you don’t notice the significant way you carry yourself, impossible to turn away from.

“Hey, Jin, talking Jeongguk’s ear off I see.” Jeongguk breaks his stare from where it concentrated on the ink already eating his skin, Jimin standing over the booth with Taehyung chuckling beside him. “Maybe give him a break and take out order?”

“There’s a counter, Park Jimin, and—” Jin squints in the direction of the counter, a small line waiting for their treats of the frozen variety, though not many people are keen for the cold in the midst of winter. “—yup there’s definitely someone up there waiting just for you.”

“Ha ha, leave him alone, Jin, his mind is already occupied plenty.” Jin slides from the booth, Jimin immediately taking his place, Taehyung sliding in after him.

Jin feigns reluctance when Jimin recites his order, all around friendlier when Jeongguk and Taehyung do the same. Jimin turns his attention to the other side of the booth when Jin sidles off, already choosing his next target. “Where’s your head at?”

“Hm?”

“We just talked to Y/n, I hear your meeting went well, prospects are high. She seems interested,” Taehyung’s speech is backed with encouragement, Jeongguk’s lip quivering, but winning the fight against his impending smile, intent on not giving himself away too quickly.

“She said she’d think about it and I’m perfectly okay with that.” He thinks of your promise, the thoughts skirting past the surface for a sign, a signal that the more he feels is exactly the meaning behind your words. His rang true, he would wait and be content. He would be prepared to have you work as his artist and end things there, but the weight in his pocket and the recollection of your eyes doubled in size leaves room for the want of more.

“She seemed impressed with you,” Jimin adds, chin rested in his palm, reading for reaction. “The fact that she’s considering is a really good sign. For her and for you.”

“It all just felt really natural,” The two watch as Jeongguk’s eyes glaze over just thinking about the exchange. “Almost like we…”

He trails, face heating, his thoughts almost betraying him. He’s relieved when a server comes bearing dishes, thanking them aloud with pleasantry and inwardly for saving him from himself. The relief is short lived when two sets of eyes beam at him like he’s an amusement, waiting for him to continue.

“Almost like you…”

“Nothing, it’s really stupid. She’s really great, I’ll be lucky if she decides that I’m worth it.” He covers lamely, shoving his spoon past his lips, letting creamy vanilla coat his tongue and ease his mind.

“Trust me,” Jimin mumbles, swallowing his own hefty scoop. “She decided that the moment you sat down.”

~*~

It’s unclear what brought you to this stool some nights later, half buzzed and wondering if you’ll have to call Jimin to drag you home. Your mind hasn’t completely fogged, liquor light with mercy, heavy consequences no doubt pending for the morning to come. A break, you’d decided, hands and knees stained with product, trying in vain to work the stain from your carpet, the smudge faint but not enough to miss your eye.

The crowd is surprising, though you wouldn’t know as you don’t often go to the place with the metaphorical bad stuff, your own brand of lunacy dancing in boxes lacing your cabinetry. You recall the draw of drinks from mugs and Jimin off-key when you’re sliding more bills than you prefer across the counter. Moving is without appeal, head to the counter the way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” The voice is familiar, worth the work to lift your head. Jeongguk looks down at you, his hand placed to the bar, eyes wide with concern.

His own stumbling through the door of the room with the dim lighting and the absurd amount of sports playing in every corner was boredom. Taehyung had plans and he was left alone to the drone of the television, the shop in need of a break from him. The dishes already glistening from his tenth wash despite the lack of use. A spot of dust enough to send him into a frenzy. From Jimin the name of the dive was briefly mentioned, in relation to what he couldn’t say, the topic never picking his brain from the moment it was first spoken.

Now he’s glad he wasn’t a horrible companion, the sight of you hunched over reason enough for his half listen. He notes your solitude immediately, drawn to the side of the bar rather than the thick of it all, two glasses empty before you.

“Jeongguk!” Your tone is uneven, eyes looking watered under the lights, your smile brightening in his eyes. He can’t help but to return, lowering into the stool so your faces are level. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I just got here actually and I saw you so…”

“You came for me?” If you were less influenced the words would have remained nothing more than a thought, passing in a sea of others you could never muster courage to speak. Though you’re not sure that a post buzz reflection will make you wish they were any less materialized, the way his features soften like a fertilization for the growth of your thudding heart.

“I—yeah, I came for you. Are you ready to head home?”

“You don’t know where I live,” You say the words, knowing you’ll go anywhere with him even if he doesn’t. You let him guide you from your stool, his touch soft, never too much.

“You know, I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

~*~

He lingers outside of your door, adoring the small struggle you have with lock and key, about to lend a hand when your triumph catches him, arms lifting over your head, turning to him with a smile. “Come on!”

“You want me to come in?” Taehyung will be home soon and he has no way of explaining that he’s at your place that doesn’t involve some teasing on his best friend’s end of it, though it doesn’t matter when you latch on to the sleeve of his jacket and pull him past the threshold.

The biggest difference between your place and theirs is the lived-in aspect. He would say that it’s cute, but it’s too simple a word. It seems you prefer mood lighting, the flip of a switch igniting fairies strung to the base of the ceiling. It suits you, who’s already stumbling toward the kitchen expecting that Jeongguk is hot on your trail. The décor is simple, a few paintings on the wall, rugs and cozy furniture.

“I’m sorry if it’s cold in here, it’s always kind of cold in here,” You mutter, grabbing two mugs and giving life to your kettle. Jeongguk recalls that you were no longer in possession of your space heater, taken by Taehyung and himself and still unreturned. He debates running over to grab it, but your hand once more on his wrist, drags him to the sofa erasing the thought of walking out of that door. “Thanks for bringing me home, I promise I’m not that wasted. You don’t have to be so nervous.”

“No, I’m not nervous! Not because you were drinking anyways…”

“So you are nervous...why?”

“You make me nervous...in a good way!” He’s quick to regroup, noting the fall of your features, hating that it’s because of him. “It’s completely insane, but from the moment I saw you I…”

“Me too.” Jeongguk’s previously averted gaze rushes to meet you, already staring back. He doesn’t need to ask what you mean, confident that what you feel is what he feels. Confident that it doesn’t matter how insane it may sound. “It’s so crazy, but when I saw you yesterday something just clicked and I thought maybe it’s because you’re ridiculously attractive but then we talked and it was so natural.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” He takes a chance, hand sliding to yours, resting against your thigh. Your fingers tangle without stutter, the position meant to be, so full of warmth and understanding. “I saw you with Jimin a few days ago, I couldn't stop staring."

So long is spent staring, enjoying each other and the mutual affection that's like an aura engulfing you.

"Where exactly do we go from here?” Jeongguk tugs at his bottom lip, another quality that fills you with warmth.

“Why are you opening a tea shop?”

“What?”

“We’re practically strangers, I don’t even know your last name actually. So, if there’s some weird predestined love at first sight phenomenon going on here, I’d like to know everything about you before we proceed.” You click, smile a contagious thing, one that Jeongguk would be remiss not to embrace wholeheartedly. “So why a tea shop?”

“Well first, my last name is Jeon—”

“Jeon Jeongguk…” He watches you test the words against your tongue. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Anyways,” He blushes. “I’ve always loved making tea. I learned it at a young age and then I started experimenting and decided that this is what I wanna do. I figured focusing on boba would draw more people in, but I also wanna expand on what I already know.”

“Well if anything, Hoseok will be there at least twice a day.”

“What about you?”

“I think I can make time, though you are really out of the way I might not be able to swing it.”

“I’ll pick you up, or better yet I can just bring it right to you,” He offers, amused but truthful. “No, but I mean how did you get into tattooing, and how did you learn tebori?”

“Ah…” Your eyes find one of the frames hanging nearest the window, a landscape that Jeongguk can barely make out aside from the distance of neon. “Well, I was studying abroad actually, in Japan. I was an art history major and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do so I thought getting away would help me figure it out.”

You think often about the day when your current occupation seemed so foreign, your adolescence always filled with imaginings of galleries under curation, days filled with frames and packed schedules.

“One of my classmates convinced me to go out with her one night because she wanted a tattoo and I wanted one too, so I didn’t really see why I shouldn’t go. She got hers first, a flower I think, and while I was watching the artist I was just blown away by the technique.”

“Tebori?”

“Mmhm, of course I’d seen the regular ink and needle, but this just seemed to me something on a deeper level and I fell in love with it. It’s probably the most insane thing I’ve done to date, but I finished my degree abroad and stayed in Japan to learn and now I’m here.”

“Why’d you come back?”

“It just felt like it was time...sometimes I wish I hadn’t or that I could go back to visit. Like it’ll remind me what it felt like in the beginning, make me feel like less of a failure. I'd actually get my tattoo.”

“You’re not a failure, we just have patches sometimes. You’ll figure it out, we’ll figure it out.” The steam of the kettle startles from the moment you're quick to exit to the stove, mulling words and recovering from the embarrassment of exposure over the steaming water. “You know, I don’t have tea so I hope hot chocolate is okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Jeongguk accepts his mug and the packet of mix, stirring it in time with his breathing. He’s left to the obvious blushing of his cheeks, musing his circumstance, sharing a drink with the perfect anomaly. He’s ignored the constant stream of vibration from his pocket, no interest in removing himself from the cozy bubble. “So this place is pretty shitty, I would know and I’ve only lived here about a week. Why do you stay here?”

“You live here? Wait...you and Taehyung are roommates, duh sorry. I’m still trying to catch up.”

“Yeah, thanks for the space heater by the way. I’m pretty sure I would’ve given in the first night if I had to sleep in the cold.”

“Ha! No worries, sometimes I do give in and I stay over at Jimin’s place. But I’m just not ready to let this place go yet, I guess. It’s not great, but change is hard and I’ve been here for so long.”

You're close along the counter, space invaded without invitation, gravitation controlling your every step. The rest of the night follows suit, closeness and appeal. You enjoy words and laughter, ignoring the possibility of the responsibility the next day alludes.

Somehow you find yourselves in your bed, faces close and bodies tucked beneath the thick duvet. You're glad the heat isn’t working tonight, Jeongguk wrapped around you like a boa, slowly falling into the depths of unconsciousness, the conversation lulling with each random topic. Your throat is strained from laughter and your brain is filled with more than it thought possible.

Inches are now centimeters and you’re snails inching toward the finish, certain but uncertain if the light of day will change the result of your exchange.

The morning following you wake much the same as you slept, tangled, breaths mingling between. Jeongguk is still snoring, blissfully unaware of the authoritative knock echoing from your front door. Hands pushing at your eyes, feet tingling against the cold flooring, you swing the door with an annoyance you’re prepared to unleash before you’re met with Taehyung.

His eyes are half frantic, neck craning to see around you.

“Taehyung?”

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but have you seen Jeongguk? I’ve been trying to reach him since last night and he’s not answering.”

“O-oh...um he’s here, let me get him,” You mumble, allowing Taehyung, his eyes softening and features squinted, to step inside. You leave him standing in the living room, ignoring the knowing smirk, head bowed as you step into your bedroom.

You regret the gentle shove of his shoulders, and the hushed “wake up” that slowly but surely draws Jeongguk from his sleep. He looked peaceful, full of youth with his eyes stapled and breath steady rising and falling. His eyes are puffy when he raises, confusion laced features recalling that he wasn’t in his own home.

His arm extends, patting your side of the bed, unaware that you were the reason for premature awakening. “Hey sleepy head.”

“What are you doing up?” He finds your hand, grabbing hold in an attempt to pull you back to bed. Though you would be more than willing, Taehyung is sure to have heaps to say already, no reason to add fuel to the fire already blazing in his pupils.

“Taehyung is here,” That catches his attention, eyes darting to the door half open. “He said he’s been trying to reach you. He’s waiting in the living room, I’m sorry if you didn’t want him to know you’re here, I panicked.”

“No it’s fine,” He assures, sliding from the bed, the same chill that ate you catching him with bare feet. You follow him back out to Taehyung, who’s taken it upon himself to peruse the space, currently examining the coffee table with it’s day old mugs. “Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you.”

Looking between the two of you, your hand finding habit at Jeongguk’s shoulder, he shrugs. “No biggie, just thought you might be in a ditch or something. Turns out I was very wrong, so I’ll leave you to it.”

“I’ll just come with you, I should probably shower and change. I’ve got some stuff to take care of before the opening. I can’t believe it’s only a couple months away.” You drop your hand, leaving him to it, an awkward and unsure feeling settling in your stomach. It’s clear that Jeongguk is a bit embarrassed, not that you’re own emotions haven’t caused the sting of a heat in your cheeks. You wait for him to follow Taehyung, who’s already waved goodbye, hands in his pockets as he stalks away.

Jeongguk isn’t so quick, turning to your ground bound pupils, fingers drifting to the trace of your jaw and nudging you to greet him. You’re taken by the lack of hesitation when his lips meet yours in kiss, short and sweet, altogether unexpected. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” You coo, fingers brushing his cheek gingerly, rewarded with one more peck before Taehyung is groaning in the hallway, effectively tearing Jeongguk from you to catch up.

~*~

You’re warm, for the first time in a long time you’re warm, from your chest to your veins, head and toes, and it’s all because of Jeon Jeongguk. His departure wasn’t the last of him, the next few months full of meetings planned and spontaneous, your phone alight with too many notifications, every one taken in with the same adoring smile and your own obsessed response.

You would stop by Hoseok’s blessing him with a coffee, happily listening to his rambling about the horrendous new flavor Jin had him and Yoongi test the other night. Across the street you could just see Jeongguk through the window, lips pulled in concentration, pen scribbling on the pad in front of him. Though it was cute, you couldn’t help but to attempt to cheer him up, his eyes immediately finding you after he’s read the little note sent to his phone.

You would be sick with yourself if you were the one to witness the affection radiating from your expanse, but you couldn’t care less how many times Jimin fake gags or the small lecture you endure when Yoongi delivers flowers later in the day. You hold on to the feeling and you hope that it feels like this all the time.

“What are you working on?” Namjoon steps into your office, no other reason than his own boredom swallowing him whole, much like the cushions when he collapses into your sofa.

“Just some of Jeongguk’s sketches…” You noticed rather quickly the familiar book resting on your bedside table after your first night together, no doubt placed by Jeongguk before sleep could find him. You spent the morning getting to know his art better, so you could try to make it exactly what he wanted. You only just got around to transferring the sketches to your own notebook, hoping to have something to show him at his opening.

“He’s really good for you. I haven’t seen you this eager about sketching in a while.”

“You think so?”

“What, you don’t?”

“No, I just...I don’t want you to think I’m completely insane for jumping into this so suddenly. I mean, I think it’s insane that I could be so completely sure about someone so quickly and I think the world of you, so I don’t want you to be disappointed…”

He laughs, whole hearted laughter fills your office and you’re not positive how you should respond. Your hands are unsteady on your pen, ready for him to completely crush your soul, back to the same girl standing in his doorway all those years ago.

“Honestly, you give me way too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

“The night that you showed up, I was wondering how I was even gonna keep this place open. The building wasn’t the most friendly looking, most people walked right past, the outside giving them the impression that the inside was just as decrepit,” He sighs, head supported by the arm of the chair, eyes holding the ceiling in place. “When you showed up I was seconds away from telling you to get lost, then you handed me your sketches and you looked so hopeful. You were my last chance, so really I should be thanking you for being so spontaneous, especially if it means you’re happy.”

“Wow, why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I didn’t want to put more pressure than you already put on yourself. Plus, it doesn’t really matter now, does it? We’re doing pretty good, and that’s what’s important.”

The revelation is a motivation, your grip on the pencil tightening, strokes light and even on the page. Namjoon doesn’t say much more, silent inspiration while he falls into slumber, the only reason he ever finds himself meandering into your space.

“Knock knock,” Jeongguk peers around the corner, your finer flying to your lips, the other gesturing toward Namjoon, dozing peacefully. “Sorry, does he do that a lot?”

“Oh yeah, he pretends he wants to know what I’m up to then he’s out like a light before I’ve finished speaking.”

“I’ll have to try it sometime—”

“Watch it,” You warn playfully, sneakily closing your notebook so he can’t see. “What’s up? I figured you would be too busy filling orders for little ole me.”

“Never, and I want you to try this! I was thinking I could add it to the special menu. I know everyone is into the whole lemonade with boba thing which we do offer but I was trying to make a tea that’s more on the fruity side than the tea side because I know some people are put off by the tea taste, ya know?” He watches you uncomfortably closely, your face trained to be as neutral as possible while flavors explode, traveling to opposing ends of your mouth, battling it out, but ultimately left with no winner.

“You know, I appreciate the thought and I’m sure if you work on it some more it’ll be perfect but…”

“It’s disgusting.” He finishes for you sighing in defeat, collapsing in the chair across from you.

“No!” You round the desk, his arms ready to accept your slide into his lap. “It’s not disgusting, it’s just...not quite blended yet.”

He takes the to-go cup, sipping his own concoction. You wonder if he tried it at all before running over here, his habit of trusting your initial judgement extremely endearing, but unnecessary. It stems only from your admittance that you weren’t the biggest tea drinker and that you’re one of those lemonade with the boba people. His mission became clear, he couldn’t stand to see you walk into his shop knowing that you’ll be leaving with sugared lemons squeezed into juice. He has to make you the perfect tea if it’s the last thing he does.

He was set on making it for the opening, but to no avail, the sign flipped, his employees brewing away, his drop here only partially out of the necessity for his favorite taste tester. “It’s disgusting,” He decides immediately, fighting the urge to spit it back into the cup. “You have to stop being so nice to me, it’s cute, but I want you to yell at me like you yell at Jimin.”

“I don’t yell at Jimin!”

“You yell at Jimin all the time, lovingly, but there are voices raised.” Namjoon rubs at his eyes, tugging at the shirt riding at his abdomen. “We goin for tea or what? I swear people are gonna think we’re out of business with how often we close early.”

"Yeah, can you just give us a minute?" You try your best to be discrete, nodding toward the notebook on your desk.

"Yeah...Jimin and I will just meet you there." He leaves you, door clicking in his wake and you turn to Jeongguk with a ready grin, eyes wide with excitement.

"Is this one of those things where I should knock everything off of your desk? If so I'm down, but this is a weird time…"

"No! I have a surprise for you." You pull his journal from it's position beneath the stacks of paper on your desk. "You left this at my place your first night over."

"I've been looking for this! I was embarrassed to tell you I lost it, but it turns out you're a klepto." He teases, taking hold of the pages. "So you decided to hold it hostage?"

"I wasn't holding it hostage, I was working on…" You lift your sketchbook, flipping to the appropriate page. "These."

They aren't complete, but you want his first impression and suddenly you understand the tea thing. It's a radically different medium, your shared art actually pending ink on his body, but you don't want to go too far only to disappoint. He leans against the desk, not speaking, just staring, expressionless.

"If you don't like them we can talk about what you want changed, I just tried to make something I thought would fit what you've already got going."

He finally looks up, eyes glistening, your stomach doing flips. You're too afraid to ask what he's thinking, so you continue to wait, hoping he'll speak up soon and that you didn't insult him with your vision.

"I love them."

"Really? You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings, it's your body you know."

"Really, you're amazing. This is better than I could've hoped and I can't wait until it's permanent." His words are firm with sincerity, notebook laid to the side in favor of pulling you into his arms. "How am I supposed to compete? I can't even make tea for you."

"Relax, your tea is perfectly fine! I just enjoy the occasional lemonade. Come on, we'll go to the shop, you can make me whatever you want and I'll love it."

"Deal, but...I-we have a surprise for you as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah, I was talking with the guys the other day, we were talking about you..."

"You and the guys? This should be good."

"It is, I promise." He produces an envelope from his pocket, no scrawl on the outside, more mystery than you're ready for. “I was thinking about what you said that first night, about wanting to remember what it was like in the beginning.”

“What did you do?” You tear into the envelope, fingers moving so slowly you fear the skin will catch in the thin edges. What you pull is far from what you imagined, a ticket printed blue for a week’s time. Jeongguk stares at you expectantly, waiting for some form of reaction, but you’re not sure what to say. “This is a plane ticket…”

“Yeah, to Japan. We want you to go back and we knew you wouldn’t do it unless we planned it for you.”

“You guys didn’t have to.”

“We wanted to, I wanted to. The way your eyes lit up talking about that time in your life, I would do anything to give that to you again. So we want you to go to Japan, do something for you.” His lips land on your forehead, breathing you in while you process the unexpected gift. It’s more than you could ever imagine, but there’s a single string, dangling with uncertainty. You figure the only way to eliminate it is to pull full force, risk sounding ridiculous.

“What about you?” Jeongguk’s face scrunches in confusion, the inquiry the last thing he expected. His thoughts were far from himself, not naive enough to think his mind would be focused anywhere but you while you’re gone, but never thinking it would be a reason you’re unsure about going. “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’d miss you too much.”

“You can call me everyday, any time of day. I’ll be there, you don’t have to worry about me not being here waiting for you.”

“Or...you could come?”

“Oh, you want me to? I figured you’d want to do your own thing, not have me weighing you down.” Your arms find his waist, head resting against his chest, giggling at the prospect of Jeongguk being anything more than a comforting presence.

“Of course I want you to, I wanna show you everything.”

“I’ll have to figure things out with the shop, but—”

“Oh, wow I’m so selfish. Of course you can’t just drop everything to come with me, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” You shake your head, silently scolding your inconsideration. Jeongguk grabs hold of your shoulders, stopping you mid step, hand halfway to smack your forehead.

“I would love to come, I just have to talk to Taehyung about it. I’m sure he wouldn't mind taking on a little more responsibility. Actually he’ll probably pack my bags for me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll probably have to catch a later flight, just to get things taken care of.” He thinks aloud.

“I think I can manage a few days on my own.”

“I promise I won’t be long.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And now, we smile.

#bangtanuniversity #bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jjk fluff #bts au #jungkook au #bts s2l #jungkook s2l

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mintseesaw · 4 years

Text

northeast monsoon

pairing: god!jungkook x goddess!reader genre: fantasy, smut, slight angst, soulmate!au word count: 3.7k warnings: mature content, unprotected sex, brief mentions of the character’s health conditions, cursed!reader, son of the deity jungkook // 18+ summary: Jungkook, not out of ordinary, decided to celebrate his 24th birthday in his favorite place on earth, the closest place to heaven—on a mountain summit. However, even before he reaches the highest peak of the mountain range, he was trapped, enthralled, and coincidentally found his true nature.

note: the idea occurred to me earlier while i was at work yesterday used jk’s birthday as an excuse to pursue it and ignore my 36433 wips and drabble requests; short, steamy and a literal filth bc it’s unedited

Jungkook was lost.

His birthday seems to carry the bad luck today. His very first misfortune in his two year experience of mountain hiking. The moment he stepped foot on the soil of mountain range marks the start of a weird feeling sitting at the pit of his something. That he refused to acknowledge because nothing bad happened to him before.

When they visited the homes of the natives on the foothill of the mountain to pay respect as inhabitants of the ancestral domain, the chieftain’s storytelling of the mountain’s cursed guardian sounded incredulous. He didn’t take it seriously nor think of it as a warning. He didn’t understand why the indigenous leader felt the need to tell them a folklore causing a delay on their activity.

Amongst the group of civilian trekkers, he was the only one who skipped the supposed ritual of spitting to the soiled ground and drawing a cross on foot on the same spot before entering the premises passed the small village. It was said to reverse the effect of any potential supernatural force against them.

Approximately 45 minutes after they started their trail onto the summit, he caught a swarm of fireflies flocking on a trunk of a humongous tree, seemingly in its hundred years of existence or more. But it wasn’t the insects that prompted him to stop and admire the view. It was the rare glow surrounding the tree that did. In his great fascination, he even loudly shared his discovery to the group. Their disinterest to the majestic tree dismayed him. Are they blind or something? It’s not everyday that they get to admire such beauty. For a solid few minutes, he was left dazed, stunned to see a tree before his eyes just like the one he had seen recently in a fantasy drama where there existed witchcraft and wizardry.

He’s not dreaming, is he?

When he finally snapped out of his reverie, the group was no longer in sight, leaving him there standing alone. At least, there’s a trace of footprints he could use to follow their tracks.

In silence, Jungkook couldn’t help but think back of the past, and the last bit memory he remembers when he woke up in a hospital bed with no recollection of his identity.

Four years ago, he was met with a major car accident with its impact resulting to hundreds of stitches in his chest, the only hideous scar he obtained after he was said to be hospitalized for a month. He not only developed a heart condition but was also diagnosed with a retrograde amnesia. He believes that his inability to recall his past memory marked the start of his vivid dreams occurring every night. Still, he was lucky enough to have his body remain in the best condition despite the lasting emotional and physiological damages it left him.

The endless dreams of mountains and forests led him to discover his fondness in scenery and the constant sense of emptiness becoming difficult to ignore. His newly found obsession with nature was enough to convince himself to start trekking, particularly mountains. Strange enough, he found the solitary in mountain peaks, of the scenery, and the cold climate in summits. He found a temporary peace in the closest place to heaven from the constant ache that each of his bizarre dreams left his heart bruising.

It was not only his dreams that he finds peculiar. Although his mother had reminded him numerous times that it was his adolescent self who developed a liking to tattoos, he didn’t know what occurred to him in his teens to consider inking his body with unrecognizable symbols that even with a brief searching in google couldn't provide him what the underlying significance each mark carries.

Few minutes later, he found himself stopping at the same spot where he had taken his time admiring the tree. He didn’t know how it happened when he was only following the remnants of the collective footpath on the ground. If he perceived the situation odd, he didn’t acknowledge it until the third time he came back on the same spot, same view.

The fact that he’s always has this great sense of remembering directions whether it be in the road or in mountains, makes the situation even weirder. For the nth time, he took a glance at his wristwatch. A groan resonated through the eerie silence in the midst of the forest. He’s been walking in circles for almost two hours now.

The group might have been halfway through the summit at this point. The trail takes about 4-5 hours and he’s far behind them now. With a heavy heart, he decided to return back to the foothill.

The sun is at its highest peak above the sky, amplifying the dryness of his mouth from the heat of noon. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to drink the remaining content in his flask.

The gust of wind brought by the monsoon is somehow mixing up his sense of direction. Some may find it strange, but he could feel the presence of wind oddly stronger than other human beings. Out of the ordinary, he could sense where the wind came from just by the mere blow of breeze passed his skin. Right now, he couldn’t put his extraordinary ability into good use because even with his attempt to go back down, he keeps returning to the same location.

Jungkook is lost. Somewhat, he’s trapped.

Now more than ever, he’s almost convinced some being invisible to the naked eye is playing him around. Jungkook lowered his rucksack on the ground, and started pacing back and forth as he tried to figure out how he’ll reverse the imaginary spell.

Even with the time passing by, the fireflies remained there, swimming around the trunk like they own it. If he’s trapped, someone or something might be responsible for this. Whether or not these stupid supernatural creatures are true, he needs to get out of here.

His foot stopped mid-step and fixated his glare at the old tree. What else would prove the peculiarity of the situation other than the mythical personified before his eyes.

“Come on, take back whatever spell you’ve casted on me. I’m not gonna destroy your home. This is an order, you devious creature.” Jungkook reprimands sarcastically as if the poor, ginormous tree can understand him in the human language.

There was nothing significantly remarkable about it if not only for the fairy dust-like glimmers surrounding it.

However, to his surprise, he suddenly hears the rustles of the leaves and cracks of branches echo through the stillness in the air as they pliantly bend over. He could feel the shiver run through his spine as he gathered what was happening to the tree. It is bending, its crown slightly crouched in front of him as if it was bowing down.

Jungkook staggers back in utter astonishment.

What the fuck is this sorcery? Is he dreaming?

He blinks furiously, trying to deduce the realness of the scene in front of him.

Soon after, he felt another surge of force-like brush of the wind against his skin, kindling tingles and goosebumps to appear on his skin. Dust swirls like a whirlpool in the air as weightless dead leaves harshly dance above the ground before they fall back down. To make things more incredulously mad, out of nowhere, a blinding form comes into sight near the trunk.

As its gleam dies down, the next thing his eyes have captured is the most enchanting being he has ever seen in his life.

A goddess.

She leans forward, her shimmering palm rubbing up and down on the rough texture of the trunk, as if the bewitching creature is consoling the seemingly submissive native species. Whether or not the goddess is upraising its spirit, he couldn’t be sure.

In quiet amazement, he watches the beauty just a few meters away from him while his presence remains hidden. Long silky hair in beautiful waves flowing with its end touching her lower back. It’s shade resembles that of the dead leaves with seemingly fresh petals and leaves decorated as accessories on her hair. Almost brandishing her as a forest goddess. With her side facing his front, Jungkook could clearly see the swell of her breasts with her thick locks keeping her peaks hidden like an enthusing mystery.

As if abiding by whatever the goddess had said, the crouched tree slowly returns back to its natural form. And just as the goddess turns her back at him, ready to vanish into the thin air, he scurried forward.

“Wait!” Jungkook shouts, hurriedly calling their attention despite hardly recovering from the peculiarity of the scene in front of him.

You only responded with a side glance, just enough to see him in your peripheral vision.

Jungkook took it as his cue to garner more of your attention, “You’re a goddess?” He says with his tone clearly filled in awe.

As if his naive question took you by surprise, you whirled around. When you did, it was like there was an invisible electrifying sensation that struck him the moment your eyes landed on him. The tremor of sparks immediately radiating in his body.

She’s such an exquisite sight, Jungkook gawked. Cting you as his example, none of the illustrations he’d seen on the internet had given justice just how beautiful goddesses are in real life. In real life!

When you spoke for the first time since you appeared in his vision, he was quickly snapped out of daze.

“You can see me? How… you mortals do not have the ability to see us.” You say breathlessly, bewildered to have met the eyes of a mortal for the first time since time immemorial. No living mortal can and will see you, unless you have opted to be seen.

Jungkook’s mouth parted. You said no affirmation. Yet, the way you addressed him as a mortal only meant one thing.

“You’re really a goddess!” He exclaims, still stunned.

“Go back to the land. The fairies will guide you the way.” You said with a simple directness, having no intention to unravel the mystery of his identity and why he seemed to carry power in him. Just as you uttered those words, the fairies appeared from the crown of the tree.

“No, wait! I’m not gonna leave until you answer my questions.”

Your head shook and with firm persistence, you say, “I am no guardian of a mortal like you. Leave the mountain before another fairy casts a spell on you. If that happens, you will never return to your home.”

Jungkook held his arms out. “I’m not here to harm anyone or anything.”

As the wind continues to swirl around the two of you, the long locks of your hair resting over your chest continue to sway pliantly in the wind’s direction.

At some point, Jungkook caught a vaguely familiar mark decorated on your skin just below your shoulder blade. On the same spot of one of his marks which mirrors yours.

“I am the guardian of this shelter and supernatural beings that live here. I cannot fill your curiosity nor have the power to keep you safe against them.”

Jungkook could perfectly hear you, but his focus had zeroed in to your shoulder. To see the exact resemblance of his mark on yours is a different story. You’re wrong, definitely wrong because you are the answer to his dreams.

Jungkook suddenly peels off his waterproof jacket while dragging his feet toward your direction.

The swell of your breasts entice him almost too painfully that his cock twitches from the mere sight of your glowing skin in complete nudity. As if they were inviting his palms to touch them. And even with your orbs glinting with subtle surprise, your face remained expressionless.

Why, he finds it fascinating. You have bewitched him!

Your confusion only lasted for a couple seconds until the last layer of fabric was taken off of his upper body. But it was replaced by a thunder striking discovery, gasping as your eyes landed on the flesh-colored, slit-like scar on his chest similar to that of the Deity’s symbol. Lightning bolt.

Jungkook met your eyes, thinking you’ve already recognized the identical marking on his skin.

When he parts his mouth to speak, you beat him to it.

“You’re not a mortal.” You revealed, still astounded.

“W-What?” Jungkook stopped in his tracks.

It couldn’t possibly be. The children of the Supreme Deity are no mortals. The God of the sea, the Ruler of the stars and moon, the Owner of the soon, the twin Gods of love and beauty, the Prince of the earth and the deity’s successor, and the missing guardian of the wind have no mortal blood. That you’re certain of. But the missing god... does it mean he’s the missing guardian of the wind?

Your gaze sifts through the generous amount of inks on his arms where the secrets of his power lie beneath the layer of the markings. The God of love have revealed this to you once several years when you dared question the reason why his body is decorated of inks, unlike other gods you have seen.

When your eyes shifted upward to his shoulder blade, you felt your heart tightens in an almost unbearable grip for the first time since the Deity has cursed you.

“Soulmate,” you reveal for the second time.

Jungkook’s eyes went round. “S-Soulmate?” He stutters.

You reach out and touch the ink of your bond on his skin. And just like that, Jungkook visibly shudders at the minimal contact.

Your eyes glossy from moisture. “I’ve been waiting for you.” You confessed.

He took one bold step forward, cupping your elegant face in his palms.

“Heavens, you’re so beautiful. How could I possibly believe that I’m rewarded with a soulmate like you? Tell me, I’m not dreaming.” He says with wonder glinting in his eyes.

He inches his face closer until your noses are touching. “If I only knew you’re waiting for me, I should’ve come here sooner when I began having those weird dreams. Fuck, let me kiss you, princess.” He groans, unable to wrap his head around with the revelation. He still has yet to ask what you meant when you said he’s not a mortal, but right now, he doesn’t care what his true identity is.

He needs to taste you.

And so he did, capturing your mouth in a flash, and taking your breath away as he pushes his tongue into the caverns of your mouth.

“So sweet,” he murmurs against your mouth. “You taste so sweet, princess.”

But the moment was cut short as he felt a searing pain in his chest. He jerks back as his body contorts in agony.

Jungkook hisses as the pain all too quickly rushes in his blood, the sensation numbing his entire body. With his eyes clenched tightly shut, he failed to witness the glow beginning to exude from each ink on his arms, the most vibrant glimmer coming from the mark on his chest that symbolizes his birthright.

His power is trying to rouse back through his mortal senses. Your glimmering fingers cautiously graze the bond on his skin, exploring the effect of your touch to him.

The tingles that radiate through his veins left him whimpering and wanting more, more of it to distract him from the unbearable ache.

“Please touch me…” He writhes, sharply drawing a breath in and out.

You lower your head and let your mouth touch the bond. A ripple of tingles slither through him almost instantly, involuntarily making him shiver from the newfound sensation. He could feel the rush of blood going straight to his cock inside his pants. He needs more.

As if you heard his silent pleas, your tongue darts out of your mouth, swirling around the spot to soothe his aches. Jungkook’s hands curl over your back, closing the distance between your bodies, leaving no way for him to not feel your breasts on his chest. In daze, he looked heavenward, mouth parted back as gasps proceeded to stumble out of his mouth deliriously. With the pain drowned by the pleasure that your sensual licks carry, he tears your mouth off of his skin just to crash his mouth to yours in a searing kiss.

He lets his instincts rule him out, and there’s one thing he wants more than anything else than to permanently mark your body his, to seal the bond that will eternally link your souls together.

“I need you so much, Princess. Tell me you want this, too. Otherwise I’ll leave and will never bother you, again.” He says in a whisper against the corner of your mouth.

The harmless threat of his words stirs alarm in you, giving him the answer he wants to hear almost instantaneously. “I’m yours, please have me. Do as you wish to my body.”

He groans, loving the way you call him yours. “Jungkook,” he whispers against the plump skin of your glowing cheek, “Say it. Say my name, Princess.” He demands softly.

“Jungkook,” you utter breathlessly.

His chest vibrated as the growl rang through the emptiness of the forest. “Fuck, you’re so perfect, my goddess.”

Jungkook sweeps you off in his arms, and with a few, calculated steps, he laid you over his thrown jacket on the ground. Another groan tears out of him just as he parted your legs, with your bare, leaking center exposed right before his hooded eyes.

Unceremoniously, he braced himself on top of you, sucking the raven mark on your skin. His fully aroused member is freed with a pop of his button and a one forceful pull of the waistband of his trousers.

He wasted no more passing second and impulsively align the red tip of his mad cock on your entrance. With a calculated thrust of his hips, he sinks his member to your warm tightness, releasing a heavy sigh in relief as the heat of your hole equally envelops all throughout his body despite the chills brought by the gust of the wind.

Jungkook catches one of your peaks with his mouth as you get lost to the heat of the intimacy. He didn’t know if goddesses such as his enchanting soulmate can conceive like mortals do or if there are other methods to reproduce but it’s never a waste of his fluid to try and test the theory. After all, if your words bear truth, he may not be a human like what he actually thought he was.

Your heavenly mewls coax him to penetrate in you deeper, until your cries have intensified and your body writhes helplessly beneath him.

With each roll of his hips colliding against your pelvis, your delightful cries have become more profound, unrestrained, enough to flare warmth right straight to his abdomen. Jungkook rests his forehead just below your temple, murmuring sweet confessions to you, the owner of his soul and inevitably soon, his heart.

He guided your legs around his waist, giving him the access to ruthlessly pound into you deeper. And then something snaps out from him.

All the gentleness of his movements have evolved into something more carnal—feral, manifesting the strength of his true nature.

God of the wind, son of the Supreme Deity. The longer his body connects with your immortal form, the luminescence emitting on his skin becoming more vivid.

“Jungkook!” Another scream tears out of you. Tears cascading from your eyes from both pain and pleasure.

With his godly powers spurring during the intimate joining of your bodies, his strength turns more powerful that no human would possibly ever survive from. You could never match the godliness of a deity’s son, but your supernatural strength was able to neutralize the surge of his energy and entwines the intensity with yours.

The God of the wind continues to rock you closer and closer to the end, with the thought of his future with you, you carrying his children, you and no one else.

He senses the buildup tension in your stomach with your head tossing restlessly from side to side.

And in a suck of your bond with his mouth and a flick of your bud in your center, you exploded so powerfully around his cock. Jungkook chases his end while the rush of your euphoria continues to spark in your veins, giving your body an exceptional glow.

He reaches the peak of pleasure with an animalistic growl reverberating on his chest, locking your hips immobile to make sure your walls greedily take in every drop of his cum. He’d want to breed you with his children.

“My sweet goddess, you’re amazing.” He praises, nuzzling on the thick, wavy locks of your hair.

Jungkook didn’t miss the squeeze of your palm on his waist. He let your wandering hands trace the length of his body. But he pulls away when you spoke.

“Will you leave me after this?” There is sadness hinted at the tone of your voice.

He tilted your chin up with his fingers, studying your features. “Of course not, how can you say that?”

You smile weakly, the grief dancing in your eyes making his chest tightens. “I’m not as powerful as you are. You are the son of the deity, you can… reject our bond and choose any goddess as you wish. Whereas, I only have one eternal soulmate and that’s you. But…”

Even with the truth unraveling right before him, he could only focus on your grief. Why is someone as perfect as you hold so much moroseness in your heart?

“But?”

“This mountain is my world. I’m eternally cursed to guard this shelter.” Your lips quiver in fear. His thumb grazes your lower lip as his arm tightens over your back. The tale told by the chieftain crosses his mind. The cursed guardian is you.

“Oh princess, do you think anything else will convince me to live without you in my life? I’ll be wherever you need me to be. Goddess or not, I will never let you out of my sight forever.” He vows, sealing the promise of eternity with a power-clashing kiss.

#goldenclosetnet #btswritingcafe #cypherwritersnet #btsguild #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #bayanihanboost #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #god!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook #bts x reader

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downfordiluc · 3 years

Text

Albedo x G/N reader.

No warnings needed. Just pure fluff.

---

Synopsis // you always felt as if Albedo's work was his priority, and yet, in a room full of experiments and results, all he sees is you.

Author's notes // My obsession with Albedo grows every day, send help. He's too beautiful for this world.

All works are entirely my own - downfordiluc (wattpad & tumblr)

---

Albedo had never been one who attached a tangible value to relationships with other people. Obviously, he valued professional relationships and cared about his family, but romance and friendship were never bonds he really sought after or felt a need to maintain. Any friendships he did consider himself to have were purely circumstantial and didn't venture past the boundaries of his workplace, and he was content with that; content with being alone. That was until he met you.

"Alone and lonely are not synonymous", was something he caught himself saying to Kaeya one time, who had pointed out that he was often the only person in his laboratory for hours, if not days on end. Truth be told though, Albedo quite enjoyed being by himself and even relished the time he spent being the only heartbeat in the room - unless his experiments ventured into living organisms. He tended to drown out anyone talking to him while he was concentrating regardless, preferring to communicate with people like Sucrose and Timaeus through paperwork and statistics, rather than sentences. And yet, right now, there were two heartbeats in the room, as well as a slight whining sound, as he got nudged in the shins.

"You said you'd be done with this an hour agooo!", the dig in his leg was so soft that he didn't even glance upwards from the test tube he was concentrated on swirling in front of him - bright aqua slowly fading to a crystal clear liquid, sparkling as it spiralled.

Without warning, a warm hand was placed upon yours, his thumb running along the top of your wrist, leaving a trail of warmth as it traveled. For a man who wasn't very fond of socializing, he knew how to say a thousand words with just one movement, and you knew he was sorry for taking so long. His work was what you always considered his priority in life, and keeping realistic about this and knowing you could probably never take that place was what kept you sane on nights like this. Nights where he promised to watch the sunset with you, but the stars were now twinkling in the night sky through the small window of his lab.

The way he watched the colours whirl and merge into one was an alluring sight, his eyes transfixed on the liquid, scanning it inquisitively, and you noticed the colour of the substance was almost a direct match to that of his beautiful, twinkling irises. It was the way he looked at you. The curiosity and fascination flickering behind his eyes, burning in his brain, made your knees weak, as he would scan you up and down. Feelings of doubt and anxiety would always follow in tow, but he stopped them in their tracks.

"You look beautiful today."

Fingers intertwining with yours pulled you delicately out of your daydream, as your eyes flicked up to his own, giving you that exact, disarming look, as you noticed his work pushed aside. Alchemy is purely scientific and has no real link to matters of the heart, and yet you could swear he had cracked the code of love too. His gaze felt calculated and precise, melting you in an instant like one of his experiments. You were an experiment to him in a way - an experiment in romance - and you really hoped he was satisfied with the results.

You knew you were.

Heat spread itself across your face, a pale pink hue dusting across the bridge of your nose and cheeks, as you registered his spontaneous compliment. It wasn't often you saw Albedo smile, so you cherished the fleeting moments when his lips curled up and his eyes glittered that little bit more. Just like that, any lingering frustration you had with him for taking so long faded out of existence, leaving only your infatuation with the one you could proudly call your own. He truly was captivating, and the best part was, he had absolutely no idea. He had no idea that he was beautiful too.

"I made you something, [Y/N].". You pouted slightly as his hand left your own, missing the warmth, as you watched him rummage through the draw on the left of his desk. In his hands, he produced a crystalline bottle. The was glass a pale hue of yellow, reminiscent of his vision glowing faintly under the star on his neck, a mystery you were yet to solve. The way it refracted light scattered little flickers of light all over Albedo's face, like luminescent freckles, and yet they were gone as quickly as they appeared, as he placed the bottle into your turned out hand. The liquid in the bottle glistened similarly to his experiment from earlier, as everything clicked into place.

Holding the bottle up to your nose, you smelled the fragrance of what was inside. Until that moment, you didn't know it was possible for something to smell like warmth, and yet that was exactly what this bottle seemed to encapsulate. Maple, cinnamon, and the smell of autumn captured you lightly, lulling you into an almost drunken sense of happiness. It smelled like cuddles in front of an open fire, but also early morning walks, watching the dew glisten on browning leaves that were slowly cascading from the trees.

September 22nd was the first day of autumn last year, and the day you met Albedo. Light brush strokes adorning the canvas in front of him as he merged hues of orange into hues of pink, perfectly capturing the sunset decorating the sky in front of him. Most people would rush to finish before the sun laid to rest for the night, and yet he took his time, a level of preciseness in each flick of his wrist that you couldn't help but watch, following every movement he made.

"Can I paint you?", the blonde man was now returning your stare, his face void of emotion but his eyes full of eagerness, as he pushed past any defences you had, leaving you with no other response than to say yes.

"How would you like me to stand?" you queried, panicked thoughts darting around your head as you thought you would do nothing but ruin his beautiful artwork. Had he simply pitied you?

"Just like that, you look perfect as is."

At the time, Albedo had no romantic intentions behind this sentence, and yet it had you mesmerised. On this crisp, Autumn evening, you became besotted with the man in front of you, and from this moment on, you would be his muse.

Soft footsteps circled the desk, the sound barely filling the room, as Albedo stood behind you, trapping you in your chair, as you could faintly feel him pressed against your back.

"Albedo?" you questioned, as you felt his breath on your neck, an involuntary shudder following in suit. His presence was short-lived, however, as he trailed his fingers down your arm, goosebumps forming on the tracks he left, as his fingertips landed on the bottle he had given you. He was ethereal.

"Do you like it?"

His enchanting voice hummed against your skin, as you could feel his hair tickling the side of your neck, his lips hovering just inches away from your ear. It took every inch of your willpower to not turn your head and kiss him, and yet you stood your ground, relishing the feeling of being this close with him, knowing these moments were often transient.

"I love it." You spoke softly, controlling your voice that threatened to waver due to his affectionate manner. You had been watching him for hours, as he barely paid notice to you. You had analysed his every feature time and time again today alone, watching every shining hair that had slipped out of his braid and fallen into his face, wanting nothing more than to brush it behind his ear. Luckily this was one of your favourite ways to spend your time, watching him work, and admiring his devotion. He was dedicated, loyal and committed, and these qualities went farther than just his work, which left you feeling secure and loved every night that you slept alone, the other side of the bed growing cold without his presence.

Without warning, a light mist fell upon your exposed neck and collarbone, yet again eliciting goosebumps, as the scent of the perfume he had created made its way up to you, softening you instantly as a sigh of pure euphoria escaped your previously smiling lips. This smile only widened, as he placed a delicate kiss behind your left ear, stroking your hair lightly as he did, reminding you of how much you longed to do so as the hours passed. The spot his lips had rested felt as though it glowed almost as brightly as the vision on his chest did, as it radiated heat long after he had departed.

"I love you." softly escaped your lips, as you turned to face him, looking up at the man who made you feel as though you were floating on delirium and bliss. His head tilted ever so slightly to the side, and yet again, he gave you that stare. The one that made you feel like the results of an experiment, every small feature being perused. You wouldn't be surprised if he had facial expressions down to a science, knowing exactly what every movement of all 42 muscles in a person's face meant. If that was the case, he could see just how in love with him you were at that moment.

"You didn't think I'd forget the anniversary of the day we met, did you?"

Like a deer in headlights, your eyes widened and your lips parted ever so slightly in shock, as Albedo gave you a soft yet sultry look, a smirk creeping upon his lips. How could he read you like a book, and yet you couldn't decipher a single thing he was thinking?

"You didn't forget, did you, [Y/N]?"

Most people would have looked offended, or more light-hearted individuals might have feigned said offence, and yet Albedo's face didn't move an inch, as he kept his gaze transfixed upon you.

"N-No, of course I didn't. I just didn't want you to feel bad if you had.", you stuttered when you were nervous, and this man had left you nothing but a ball of anxiety, as you had almost forgotten to give him his own gift. From your pocket, you produced a small pin of Prithiva Topaz, the shape identical to the star on his neck that you adored so much; a testament to how much of an enigma this man was to you. Slowly rising from your chair, you placed one hand on his chest, grasping at the belt that crossed over his body. Where the black leather of his belt met the gold embellishments that came over his shoulder, there was an empty circle, and so you pinned on the brooch, directly in the centre, your hands lingering ever so slightly, not wanting to take them off of him.

"I love you too." he whispered above you, which led to you looking up at him, your eyes full of endearment for your one and only. A lock of his hair hovered just above your eyes, and so you gave in to your day-long wish, reaching up and tucking it lightly behind his ear, stroking along the strand as your hand left. And yet he caught it, holding it lightly in his own, and kissing it lightly, just above your knuckles. You could not get enough of the feeling.

"Now, I hate to do this to you, but I really must finish this research, but you're free to do whatever you want with my hair as I do.".

Your lover quickly transformed back into the alchemist he prided himself in being, as he sat back down in his chair, pulling your own next to his. Once again, you found yourself wondering how he could read your every thought and emotion with almost frightening accuracy, and you settled on the conclusion that his genius was simply immeasurable by your own standards. All that mattered to you was that if he truly had the power to decrypt your every thought, he was fully aware of the overflowing feelings for him that filled your beating heart daily.

And so, for the rest of the night, your hands brushed through his hair, braiding it once, twice, thrice, as he leaned ever so slightly into your touch, giving you reassuring hums as he shuffled the papers below him. Suddenly, watching the moon rise wasn't so bad, as long as this moment lasted until the sun came up, and you could watch the sunrise together.

#albedo #genshin #genshin impact #genshin oneshot #albedo oneshot #albedo fluff #albedo fanfiction #reader #fluff #gn reader #klee #diluc #kaeya #genshin imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #sucrose

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whentheynameyoujoy · 3 years

Text

So the ATLA Movie Is... Good, Actually?

Just kidding, of course it’s not, it’s so bad it sucked the paint off my walls. But after ten years of people pointing out its glaring flaws, why would anyone bother talking about this garbage heap if not to go the other direction? So here’s a very brief and very superficial list of things the movie does get kinda... not atrociously wrong.

And they won’t be fake hipster pokes, like “It’s fun to laugh at”, “The Rifftrax for this is OK”, or “Kudos to the actress for managing to say we believe in our beliefs as much as they believe in theirs with a straight face”.

(though now that I mentioned it, it is fun to laugh at, the Rifftrax for this is OK, and massive props indeed.)

Rasta Iroh

Yes, I know it’s not exactly the aesthetic of the real Iroh or that it makes no cultural sense for him to sport this do when no one else in the racebended Indian “OMFG what were you thinking Shyamalan” Nation does but goddamn, long-haired dudes are my one mortal weakness and I will ogle the hell out of him.

Jesus is that a man bun I see that’s it mum I’ve been deaded

Yue’s hair

No.

Now we’re talking. Yue’s hair turned white when the Moon spirit gave her life, so it makes sense for it to go black again when she sacrifices herself to revive the koi fish. It’s a neat detail I find myself expecting whenever I rewatch the scene in the show. Yes, I realize it’d be a pointless hassle to animate since she, unlike in the movie, immediately goes on to become the Moon herself but still. I like.

The Blue Spirit’s mop

Zuko, hun, what’s with the dance-off?

First of all, I want to imagine that Zuko the Theatre Nerd was about to leave his ship with just the mask like in the show but then stuck his head into the cleaning cupboard and went, “Yeah, more coverage might be good, even though it do seem mighty fried to shit”.

Which makes me giggle. I like to giggle.

And secondly, the hair’s movement is what makes the static mess of the Blue Spirit’s solo fight scene appear at least bit more dynamic because God knows the cinematography isn’t doing it.

Any particular reason why it’s at the edge of the action, shot all boring-like?

Now, I get why circular shots would be reserved for Aang while he’s in the practice area and then used once the two join forces. What I don’t get is why Aang’s part of the action scene has a defined visual style while Zuko’s delegated to a few stationary wide shots from afar as though he’s a tertiary goon, meaning that when the time comes to combine the respective pieces of cinema language and visually convey collaboration, there’s not really much to combine.

But as long as Zuko is stuck in this static mess, it’s that awesome disaster on his head flopping about that draws the eye, helping me understand that something even is going on over there.

It also prevents me from paying much attention to how the extras are mostly just staying put and a lot of the hits don’t land, so that’s good.

The music slaps

James Newton Howard is too good for this.

youtube

Pls ignore that the word “gods” is used in the ATLA universe

I can’t be the only one who constantly uses this piece to daydream about writing specific fanfic scenes instead of, you know, actually sitting down and writing them. It’s just so good at communicating a sense of sorrow while speaking of rebirth that I find myself getting misty-eyed whenever I listen to it. Unfailingly, the soundtrack as a whole manages to break through the mile-thick crust of horrible acting, confusing writing, and uninspired cinematography and make me feel things. And considering how everything on screen is working against it, that’s no small feat.

Imagine what a powerful experience it would be if the score was used in service of an actual movie.

Dev Patel

No wonder since he’s the only one in the film occupying that crucial intersection between “is a good actor” and “was given something to work with”. It also doesn’t hurt that he breaks with the trend of actors starring in martial arts flicks despite never having done any martial art.

And all EIP-jokes about “stiff and humorless” aside, he’s a pretty decent Zuko considering how abridged this version of the character is. A while ago, I remember hearing a reviewer say that with his comedic chops, Patel should have been cast as Sokka. And on one hand, yes, god, absolutely, I need to see that asap. But on the other? He captures all layers of Book 1!Zuko, the desperate obsession, rage, and self-loathing, and at the same time gives you a peek at the soft momma’s boy dork that’s buried underneath. For Christ sakes, he exudes intensity and ambivalence even when acting against an emotionless hunk of wood that’s giving him nothing in return.

Oh, and I guess there’s a tree in the frame.

Ba dum tss

What can I say, the guy’s good.

Showing vs telling

OK, so this movie is all tell and no show, except for one single moment. And it’s the exact moment where the original goes in the other direction in terms of how information is conveyed.

See, I never liked this. The revelation is preceded by Iroh giving advice to Zuko who scolds him for nagging. Iroh then apologizes, moves in to say the line above, and is interrupted by Zuko who seems rather uncomfortable with Iroh laying his feelings out like this. And once they’re out, Zuko verbally confirms that he knew already and Iroh didn’t need to bother.

All this extraneous information and pussyfooting ends up weakening what should be a profound scene that reveals to us, the viewers, how deep the relationship between these two in fact runs.

Compare to the movie where Dadroh acts like a parent by fussing and worrying, with Sonion needing a single look to tell him and us that he understands what it’s all really about.

It’s genuinely efficient and just good.

No Cataang

Fine, a bit mean-girl bitchy from me since I only start minding the ship in Book 3. And probably unintentional on the part of the creators since there are moments where I think they’re trying to set the romance up? There’s a, well, an attempt to recreate the famous introductory shot of fateful meaningful destiny of meaningness, there’s some slight note of saving each other’s bacon going on, I’m pretty sure they’re the only ones in the film who smile, and oh, right, Katara’s shoved into her post-canon useless role where she doesn’t ever do anything, and is all about Aang right from the get go.

Yes, I will blame the “executive producers” because a) I’m incredibly petty, and b) it’s perfectly in line with their vision of the character so why the hell not.

Hilariously, none of it reads on screen because the actors are just... yeah. These poor kids are struggling so much with delivering their own lines and portraying their own characters they don’t seem to have any strength left to create something between them. To be fair, the bare-bones shot-reverse shot style of their scenes doesn’t exactly lend itself to the idea they occupy the same universe, let alone are friends or each other’s crushes.

And I enjoy this immensely because it allows me to forget the depressing horror show Katara’s life turns into post ATLA.

Yes Zutara

I need to delve into this because it’s fucking hilarious. So in a movie which fails to establish the original’s central romance so spectacularly that if Aang got lost in a crowd I don’t believe Katara would notice, SomEOnE thought it’d be a good idea to add an utterly unnecessary non-canon moment where Zuko for some reason feels the need to pause his character-defining hunt for the Avatar which otherwise has him ignore everything and snap at everyone, and explain his central conflict to an unconscious peasant he doesn’t know, complete with gently pushing the hair from the pretty girl’s the soulmate’s the Water Tribe Ambassador’s the Fire Lady’s the love of his life’s her face away, AFTER his uncle nagged him twice to find a girl and settle down.

I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page and this is what we really saw.

Celibate Avatars

I have no idea why the decision was made, if TPTB thought expecting viewers to understand the story through the lens of Buddhism would be too much, or if the “executive producers” already worked their retconny magic. What I do know, however, is that there’s a big shift in worldbuilding and Aang’s struggle with his role as the Avatar stops being a personal conflict defined by a) his grief for Air Nomads, b) his notion of being robbed of the loved ones in his life, and c) the selfish attachment to Katara he confuses with true love. Instead, what he has a difficulty to accept is apparently a general notion of who Avatars are supposed to be, i.e. a fantasy version of Catholic monks, no family and worldly relations, period.

I guess either someone understood the original’s portrayal of de/attachment as “hermit no freaky”, or thought the audience would so why not go there outright.

Now, do I like this on its own? No, God no, it makes the world infinitely poorer and changes the story from an exploration of ideas which aren’t all that ingrained in the West, to a cliché tropester about a Catholic priest going Protestant so that he could be with a girl.

At least I assume that’s where they were going to take this eventually.

I mean, I think the direction was “look conflicted, this isn’t the final stage of your journey”?

But consider this—the show went there, it built on the concepts of Eastern philosophy and touched upon the ideas of spiritual awakening, only to swerve in the end and strongly imply they’re bullshit and Aang should have never wasted his time with them.

So honestly, I much prefer scanty worldbuilding to an insulting retcon by a damn rock.

Multiracial Air Nomads

Probably the most substantial “no hint of irony” point on this list and a genuinely good addition to the universe’s worldbuilding.

See, the notion of the elemental nations being perfectly separate and never mingling before Sozin has always been sketchy but it’s especially ridiculous in the case of airbenders. It never made sense to me for all airbenders to be Air Nomads and for all Air Nomads to be monks and for all monks to be chilling at the temples all the time to facilitate a quick everyone-dies genocide should an imperialistic warlord ever decide to commit one.

Because committing everyone to a single way of life at a handful of places kinda goes against the central philosophy behind airbending. Like the freedom and nomadism part.

Instead, there should be more variety to the airbending culture, with some staying at the temples as monks, hermits, and teachers while others live as nomads, travelling the world and creating more airbenders, with the resulting children in turn being influenced by the non-airbending cultures they grew up in.

And thus, not only should airbenders not be modeled after a single culture to create a one-size-fits-all lifestyle, but they should have the most diverse and dynamic culture out of the four nations.

And it’d be precisely this diversity which would pave way for an eventual reveal that some of them survived, that their complete extermination is impossible.

Because they’re everywhere.

You know.

Like air.

#atla #atla movie #zutara #anti bryke #dev patel #the last airbender #anti-kataang

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years

Text

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she��s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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btsmakesmehappy · 3 years

Text

Cookies Charades

Genre: Roommate to Lover, Friends to lover, Fluff, slight angst.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 4,5k

Rating: PG-13

Warning: the reader is a little insecure, grinch joke, ugly christmas sweater, low budget christmas party, a pandemic quarantine itself is a big warning (Please stay safe!)

Summary: A pandemic quarantine, cookies, a bet, and a night with just the two of you; you and your very own crush who is also your best friend. What could happen?

A/N: this drabble is for @btswriterscollective ‘s holiday event! It’s my first time joining an event since I wrote my fics. And this fluffy Christmas fic is dedicated to @lunar-jimin. Merry Christmas! I’m still new at writing fics so It’ll be a little messy but I hope this will make you happy! - your secret Santa, Rain

also thank you for my beta reader, @arizonapoppy Merry Christmas<3

“So what are you doing for Christmas?” Jimin asks casually as he puts chips into his mouth. His eyes are glued to the TV which plays Princess Diaries out of nowhere, and you’re pretty sure that both of you don’t even pay any attention to the movie. Today is supposed to be your movie night with your best friends, just wine, and a lot of food, and maybe some board games if you can’t find anything to watch. But since the pandemic, you can’t just barge into your friends’ home easily. That’s why you are stuck in your apartment with your roommate, Jimin.

You’ve been living with him for two years, introduced by mutual friends. You searched for an apartment, Jimin looked for a roommate, it was perfect. There was just a little thing that your friends knew: that you had a crush on him.

Well, who doesn’t?

Jimin is hot, smart, and cute all merged into a fine man. A fine man with a body that makes other men envious. It’s unfair too that he is also kindhearted. It’s like everything you need for a man, you can find in him.

Jimin is like a chameleon. He can be a nerd in the morning, and a fuckboy in the evening. He can be a bulky gym-addicted man to start and then turns into a cuddly soft boy in the space of minutes. He can be a boy that an older woman loves, or a strong-fatherly figure that girls would obsess over. He cooks, he cleans, and he also takes care of you when you’re sick.

He is so perfect. So fucking perfect.

That’s why it’s hard for you to not fall in love with him, not when he is just a room away from you, and not when he becomes your best friend so very soon. It’s like Universe wants to torture you. Like the Universe sees an opportunity to mess with your heart, let alone your relationship with people.

Yes. You’re in love with your best friend who is also your roommate.

You like him, a lot, to the point that your hand goes clammy whenever he’s close to you. To the point that his scent after shower raises your heartbeat. To the point that you feel a stab of pain to your chest whenever he comes home with Jisoo.

You sip your wine slowly. “I might be skiing again right now, if we weren’t in a pandemic.” Your eyes wander to the photo frame above the TV; it was when you were on a skiing trip with your friends last winter.

“Do you want to do something with me then?” He turns his head to face you, eyes twinkling in excitement.

“Sure, why not?” you shrug. “We’re going to do these for Christmas, after all. So yeah, just make an appointment for that.”

Jimin snatches the wine glass from you and puts it on the shaky table in front of you so clumsily that he almost makes it fall and colors your cheap white carpet red. “That’s not what I meant! Let’s just make a small Christmas celebration just the two of us. We should bake, cook, and decorate!”

“Won’t it be bothersome, though?” You’re actually pretty worn out. Your finals have just ended, all of your assignments and papers are all submitted. Not to mention you just finished your internship program for this semester, because somehow they didn’t cancel the program because of the pandemic. You were pretty busy. What you really want is just food and your bed. Celebrating Christmas? Maybe it’s just a privilege for you.

“Come on!” he whines. “It’ll be fun! This is the first Christmas, just the two of us!”

And maybe the last one, you think. Staying with Jimin has been hard for your heart. You’re supposed to move this year. You’ve searched the possible rooms, looking for extra jobs to afford it, and anything you need to rent the new room. But again, because of the pandemic, that plan will be postponed. There’s no way you would move at the time like this. So, yeah. Maybe this Christmas would be a nice memory. “Fine. So what should we buy then?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle with his widening smile. “Should we exchange gifts? What do you want for Christmas?”

You fold your arms, thinking. “Ehm. I know! I read it online earlier this morning, there’s a discount in the supermarket for instant noodles. Can you believe it? Buy three get two for free!”

“That’s not what I meant!” he whines. “Clothes? Books?”

“Not really; Why would I buy clothes when I spent most of my days in the apartment? And besides I’m broke.” Well, you’re not lying. Even though you’re gonna spend Christmas away from your family, it doesn't mean you won’t send them gifts, and with those pricey gifts and delivery fees; yeah, it costs you a little more than you’re expected.

Jimin pouts. “Fine… So no exchanging gifts then. Well, Christmas Eve is tomorrow anyway, there’s no way we can find gifts in such a short notice.”

You poke his sides playfully, “come on don’t be sad. And I remember you said something about baking?”

He smiles widely and rises from the couch. He walks inside his bedroom and returns with a legal pad in his hand. “What about decoration? I believe we can still find a Christmas tree downtown,” he suggests as he scribbles his ideas on the pad.

Your hand automatically stops his moving hand. “Let’s skip the Christmas tree. It’ll be too expensive. How about we just make paper chains or something like that?”

“Why? It’ll be like an investment! We can use it next year.”

“I know, but…” You bite your lips, hesitant to tell him. “It’s just…”

Jimin looks at you for a moment and then draws an X on the pad. “Fine. No decoration. Let’s keep our budget to minimum then. What about food?”

“I’m not sure. With all of the baking we’ll do, it’ll be a mess if we decided to cook too.”

Jimin taps his pencil on his chin. “You’re right. Let’s order pizza and chicken then?”

You give him a thumb up and pat his shoulder. “Okay. We should go shopping in the morning.” A yawn leaves your mouth and you rise from the couch. “Well, I’m going to retire for the night. Good night.”

“So early?” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and then to your abandoned glass of wine. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

You give him a wave and head to your room. With the weight in your heart, you plop on your bed and sigh. Again, you missed the chance to tell him that you’re going to move out. Your mind wonders whether it’s a good idea to spend Christmas Eve tomorrow with him. Just the thought of that makes your heart race again.

Get your head straight, Y/N!

He is your best friend. Control your feelings!

Just hang in there a little more, Y/N.

Hang in there…

You’re awakened by the sound of metal crashing outside your room. You grunt as you reach the phone, eyes widening when you see that it’s noon already. You rise and walk outside to look for Jimin.

“Hello, Sleepyhead.”

You rub your eyes slowly and stretch your body. You were asleep for more than twelve hours, and instead of energizing you, it physically drained you. Your body aches. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” you ask hoarsely.

Jimin smiles as he hands you a mug of hot chocolate. Even if it’s noon already, it’s still winter and sure a hot beverage wouldn’t hurt. And the time and weather on your phone says it’s actually colder than yesterday, which is why even Jimin wears a thick black turtleneck instead of his usual pajamas. Not that you’re complaining about it. He looks good, like very good. And he just stands out perfectly in your all-white kitchen. “Because I know you’re tired. I feel bad, too, because you did this because I asked you. I’m sorry. And besides, you’re scary when I wake you up by force.”

You sit on the counter, collecting warmth by holding the mug. “Thank you. But don’t feel bad. I agreed to do it, too. So, if you give me fifteen minutes we can go to shopping-”

“That’s not needed anymore.”

Your eyes widen in surprise as your lips touch the hot chocolate, dripping some of it from your mouth. “But.. I thought we’re gonna bake cookies?”

“Yes, we are.” He cleans your chin with his thumb slowly, makes you jolt a little at his touch. The way he licks his thumb casually afterward is not helping at all. “But I already went for groceries!”

“I see, but you should just wait for me. We could go together.” You blow the beverage to cool it down and sip it slower than before.

His hand travels to your cheek and pinches it softly. “That’s fine. So just wake up already and help me bake!”

You look puzzled and yet you walk back again to your room, leaving him humming Christmas songs in the kitchen. You lean on the back of your door after you close it. Your face feels hotter as if you can still feel his fingers on your face. Smooth and warm. The warmth slowly fills your chest and makes you hard to breathe. It’s like magic. And it's even more magical that you still can stand even though your knees are all wobbly.

You shake your head to clear your mind, to clear any unnecessary thoughts, and head to the bathroom. This is going to be a hard day.

Fifteen minutes later, you go back to the kitchen, finding Jimin playing with his iPad. “What cookies should we make?” you ask as you lean on the counter, head propped on your chin. You’re wearing your Christmas sweater that your mom sent you earlier this year. It has a Grinch on the front of it and a huge Christmas tree on the back. It screams ugly in every Christmas sweater contest. You’re supposed to wear this together with your family, sitting together in front of a fireplace. Since it’s not going to happen, at least the sweater can give you some warmth this Christmas.

He lifts his head up and his eyes fall on your green sweater. “It suits you really well, not gonna lie.” He throws his head back in laughter.

His laughter again sways your heart, stealing your breath. You hit him softly on his shoulder and tie your hair loosely in a low ponytail. “Shut up. So what should we make?”

“It’s gingerbread cookies! We can decorate them too. I bought like a dozen cookie cutters just for this day.” He opens a plastic box to show you proudly.

You pick some of the cookie cutters, trying to identify the shapes. “Are you sure you picked the right shapes? Isn’t this like a mermaid-ocean-package?”

“What?” He immediately scans the box and sighs. “Fuck, I’m sure I picked from the right shelf. I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for? Maybe some people are mixing it up. That’s fine!” You pat his shoulder reassuringly.

Jimin grabs all of the cookie cutters and stuffs them into their box. “Just wait for an hour. I’m gonna have this exchanged.”

You grab his arms to stop him from walking away. “Don’t bother. They’re still cookies and edible even though they’re in different shapes. I mean, mermaids celebrate Christmas too, don’t they? In any case, it doesn’t really matter.”

“It does matter!” He pouts. “It’s our first Christmas together, I want it to be perfect.”

You chuckle. “Why would you want that?”

He sighs and scratches the back of his head. “I just feel we’ve been too distant lately, and you look very tired. I just want to make you happy.”

You freeze for a moment as you look at his face. A hopeful thought sneaks to your mind and you clear it immediately. “We can just make our shapes then. You know, just cut it with a knife or a toothpick or anything.”

He looks you back in the eyes, waiting for another reassurement. “Really?”

You smile. “Yes, it would be fun, making our own shapes. Besides, we don’t need perfect-shaped cookies just to make our Christmas perfect, do we?”

He returns your smile with a wider smile and pulls you into his chest. “Alright. Thank you, Y/N.”

You’re again puzzled with the sudden act and clear your throat as you pat his back. “Alright let’s bake some cookies then.”

He releases you immediately with pinkish cheeks.. “By the way, I’ve already mixed all of the ingredients a few hours ago, just so you know. The dough needed to be chilled.”

“Really? So I’m going to just cut them out and decorate it?”

“Yep.” He opens the fridge and pulls out a bowl of brown mixture. He scoops some flour with his hands to the counter and throws down the cookie dough. “Don’t worry I’ve cleaned the counter a few times.”

You’re not a cook yourself but you know a thing or two about cooking and baking. You baked cookies a lot when you're a kid, but as an adult? Not so much. So you just watch Jimin using his rolling pin to thin the dough with admiration on your face.

“What’re you doing? You should help me!”

“Oh right.” You laugh and walk to the sink to wash your hands. You snatch the rolling pin from his hand and start rolling it slowly. “Let me roll this.”

“Wait a minute.” He walks to the cabinet nearest you and grabs an apron. “Don’t want the Grinch to be dirty.” He unfolds the apron and throws the loop over your head.

You hold a breath when he touches your sides to tie the apron around your waist. You clear your throat just so you can distract yourself from the shivers that come from the feeling of his breath on your neck. “Is this fine?”

He pulls away from you. Looking around your shoulder, he eyes the dough. “I think this is the perfect thickness.”

“So how do you want to shape it?” Your hand moves to the corner of the tempting brown dough to rip it and puts it on your mouth, letting the dough melt on your tongue. You open the drawer to search for a small knife. “I’m thinking a puppy would be cute, but without the proper cutter, I’m afraid it’d turn out horrendous.”

“Oh my God, I just have a nice idea!“ He claps his hands together, eyes twinkling. “Should we have a competition then? ‘Who’d make the best identifiable cookies’. It would be like charades!”

You chuckle. “That’s like totally random. I think you hang out with Taehyung too much.” The second bite you ate is sweeter and all you can taste is just sweetness and the ginger. Did I taste some cinnamon in there?

He smiles proudly. “I think we can ask Taehyung to guess. What topic should we use… Animals would be too easy. How about food?”

“Fine! What’d the winner get?” you ask as your hand moves again towards the dough, but Jimin slaps it lightly.

“Why do you keep eating that? It has raw egg for god’s sake. Anyway, I think...” he rubs his chin and leaves a hint of flour on it, thinking. “What about the loser should grant the winner’s wish?”

You pout and use your sleeve to clean his chin. “A wish? Sure, but we should make some rule-”

“Make that three wishes,” he grins.

“Three??” your jaw drops.

He takes a step forward, forcing you to step back. Your hip bumps the counter as he reaches out his hand. “Are you afraid to lose, Y/N?”

You laugh in amazement. “No. Three wishes just for today,” you reply as you move closer to him and accept his hand. “Deal.”

After hours of baking the cookies, letting them cool off, and decorating them, it’s time to play the cookie charades, as Jimin named it. Both of you have written all of the answers on a piece of paper so it’d be fair, and no one can change the answer later.

Jimin holds his phone as he waits for Taehyung to answer the video calls. Just after a few rings, Taehyung picks up the phone. “What’s up Jimin? Aren’t you with Y/N?”

“Hey Tae!” you wave at the phone when Jimin shows it to you. “What are you doing? We miss you!”

“Nothing. I just played games for twenty -four hours straight so I’m resting my eyes right now. What do you want?”

Jimin clears his throat and faces the camera. “So, Y/N and I are baking cookies, and we want you to guess the shapes. It’s kind of a battle.”

Taehyung grunts. “Why would I want to get involved in your rivalry? It’s so bothersome.”

“If I win I can give you one of my wishes!” you chime in, snatching the phone from Jimin’s hand.

“Yah! That’s bribing.” Jimin yells.

You scoff. “Fine! Pretty please?”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Jimin snatches his phone again and flips the camera. “Alright, thirty seconds on the clock each part and you should answer as many cookies as you can. To be fair, we’re not telling you whose cookies they are. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Can we do this immediately?”

You open your timer on your phone and set to thirty seconds. “Alright, one two three. Start!”

The first cookie’s shaped like a circle, but decorated with multiple colors. It has a brown-black stripe, red stripe, and green stripe stacked between two brown-yellowish stripes. “Hmmm, Hamburger?” Taehyung answers.

“Correct!”

The second one is also a circle with a light brown color, with a little orange accent on it. “What’s that… a potato?” he squints his eyes as he looks at his phone screen closely.

“Wrong, it’s a hotteok.”

“The fuck I should know? It’s nothing like hotteok!” Taehyung rants on the other line, seemingly excited about the game.

“Just answer it! Fifteen seconds left!”

The rest fifteen seconds and another thirty seconds flew fast and Jimin concluded the game as he waves to Taehyung. “Alright, Tae. Thank you for playing with us. I hope to see you soon!” Jimin yells.

“So who’s the winner? Ya-” Taehyung asks as Jimin hangs up the phone.

Jimin puts his phone inside his pocket and looks at the answer sheets. “So, the first one has four rights and the second one has three rights. So that means…”

You bite the inside of your cheeks to control your emotion, but looking at Jimin’s face, you’re losing it. “FINE! You win!”

Jimin smiles wider as he jumps happily. “Of course I’d win!”

“I still think that putting Sprite as a question is cheating.” You cross your arms over your chest. “It’s not even a food!”

He laughs again mockingly, “It is if I say it is.”

You pout. “Fine, whatever. What are your wishes then? Remember, that those wishes are only valid until midnight.”

Jimin walks to the couch and sits with a smug expression on his face. “Let’s start with cleaning all of those cookie sheets and mixing bowls.” He picks up a remote and turns the TV on to play some movies. “Start cleaning, Cinderella!”

You sigh as you look at the piled-up dishes. Why did I even agree in the first place? you mumble quietly as you brush the crumbs from the pan and the hardened icing from the bowls. And the fact that it is filled with icing sugar before only makes it harder to clean. You scowl as you run them under the hot water, leaning in to scrub them more harshly.

“Don’t be mad, Y/N. You can win it next year,” Jimin reassures as he bites into his cookies. His voice is only half-mocking.

You slam the bowl into the sink with a clang, sending a cloud of bubbles across the counter. “Yeah, right. Like I would want to visit your apartment next year.”

“You what?” he asks, his voice blurred with the sound of the song coming from the TV. He turns his head to look at you weirdly.

You freeze, realizing that you just blurted the one thing you don’t want him to know. “Nothing,” you reply as you continue to wash the dishes, avoiding his gaze.

Jimin rises from the sofa and turns the TV off. He walks back to the kitchen and grabs your arm harshly, forcing you to look at him. “What do you mean?” His voice is cold, the smile vanished from his face.

“It’s nothing.” You try to brush his hand away and continue washing the dishes, but his grip tightens.

“I said, what do you mean?”

You take a deep breath. The scrubber slips from your hand under the water as you turn to face him. “I think I’m going to move out from this apartment.”

“What? Why?” His forehead creases. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. Not at all. You’re a perfect roommate.” You clear your throat awkwardly. “It’s just, something happened.” You reach for the scrubber again.

He pulls at your sleeve, and you look at him again. “What happened? Is it a money thing? If it is, don’t worry about it. You don’t even have to pay right now. Just tell me.” His mouth is pursed with worry and your head roils with a sudden guilty feeling.

You shake your head weakly. “No, it’s not something like that. I’m fine.”

“Then why are you not telling me? I’m your best friend!”

“IT IS BECAUSE YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND!” you yell, yanking your sleeve from his hand.

“What? What do you mean?” he demands.

You control your breaths. “Nothing.” You turn the faucet off and stomp towards your room. Jimin’s hand grabs you again before you get two steps, stopping you from leaving him. The warmth of his hand seeps into your body. You feel nauseous. You need to stay away from him right now. “I need some time alone.”

He bites his lips, annoyed with your answer. “Well, then you have to tell me what’s wrong.” He steps closer to you, eyes glaring. “It’s my second wish.”

“That’s not fair. I--” Tears threaten to fall at your sudden exposure.

“Tell me, Y/N. You promised me you’d gran-”

“I LIKE YOU, OKAY?” You confess as tears fall from your cheeks. Your knees turn weak after you let it out, and you slump at the counter. The secret that holds your relationship together, that makes you the way it was. It’s over for you and Jimin.

Jimin steps back from you, loosening his grip around your hand. “You what? Then why would you move out?” he asks softly.

Your fists tighten to stop your tears from falling even more. “I tried to not like you, but it is too hard, Jimin. I can’t control my feelings. I’m sorry. I really wanted to be your best friend and also your roommate, but I just ca-”

Your words are interrupted with his lips crashing on yours, catching you off guard. His lips are soft and you can taste the cinnamon-sweetness from the cookies mixed with the saltiness of your tears. Just when you try to comprehend what’s going on, he pulls away. His hands find their rest on your face and cup it gently, swiping any tears leaving from your eyes. He rests his forehead against yours and sighs. “You’re stupid.”

“Wha-what? Why?” you stutter, throat drying because of the sudden closeness.

“Why do you think I chose you to be my roommate?” His warmth spreads to your cheeks, sending another hope to you. His gaze softens and you gather all of your courage to meet him back. “It’s because I like you too.”

Again you freeze on the spot. Eyes widening, breath stopping. And it makes Jimin giggle. “I always liked you, Y/N.” He leans in and gives a chaste kiss on your nose and moves downward to plant another on your lips.

“Bu-but I thought you.. With Jisoo….” There’s no way Jimin would like you. It doesn’t make any sense. You pull away from him. “Stop playing with me.”

Jimin pulls you in his chest, resting his chin on your head. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Y/N. There’s never been another woman. It's always been you.” He takes a deep breath, and continues. “Jisoo is my cousin, and she knows about my feelings.”

“Cousin?”

“Yes. She sometimes crashes at our apartment when she has a fight with her boyfriend, who is, by the way, none other than our dear friend Taehyung.” Jimin smiles and pulls away, but keeps his arms holding your waist close to him. “And even though she sleeps here, I always take the couch. She always leaves early in the morning because Taehyung picks her up. Their relationship is a little weird, if I may say so.”

“Taehyung?”

“Look I can even call my family members just to prove it to you, if it’s what you want.”

You shake your head, looking lost. You know Jimin is telling you the truth, but still you can’t believe that he likes you. Like he actually likes you.

“I was going to tell you tonight, but this somehow happened.” He calls your name softly to gain your attention. “So yeah, I like you a lot. And don’t ask me ‘since when’, because I don’t even know the answer. It just grows each day and each moment I spend with you.”

And just like that relief washes in you along with your tears. All of the thoughts you have of losing Jimin are vanished. All of your doubts are answered. You bury your head in his shoulder.

Jimin laughs and hugs you tighter. “Why are you crying?” He strokes your back to calm you down as you sob in his chest. “It must have been bothering you a lot, does it? I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you this.”

“I’m not stupid.” You sniffle as you put your arms around him, hugging him back.

“Sure, you’re not.” He laughs again and kisses the top of your head lovingly. “So, here’s my third wish.”

Your eyes widen with the sudden change of topic, looking at him in confusion. “Like right now? Wha-what is it?”

He looks directly to your eyes, gaze softens each time he takes a deep breath. And with this proximity, you can hear his heart racing inside his chest, playing the rhythm answered with your own beat. Not even a Christmas carol can top this symphony. Not when the world is only yours and Jimin. Not when is just you and Jimin, and nothing else matters.

And finally, Jimin opens his lips slowly. “Be my girlfriend?”

Thank you for reading! Hope you all have a merry christmas!!

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