#but how fucking dare those other assholes try to hurt humans you’re about to face the full amount of vulcan wrath

[theshadowrealmitself]

Officially ignoring canon, thinking about Vulcans being excited to meet humanity and rushing to make contact when they finally meet the requirements for First Contact, then convincing them to join their federation, and keeping an eye on their scary looking ships because humans do things in kind of a scary way and why can’t you all just stay safe, your lifespans are short enough!!

[thetravelerwrites]

Errol (Naga) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Human/Male Naga Additional Tags: Cheating, Infidelity, Break-ups, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Secretly In Love, Angst, Sex, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Dom/Sub, Ovipositor, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Babies, Eggs, Egg Laying Words: 7887

A commission for @anjhope1​​! After catching her fiance cheating, the reader breaks up with him and goes home miserable. The ex-fiance's brother, Errol, arrives on his brother's order to get his things from her apartment, but Errol is more interested in taking care of the reader and making sure she's okay. It leads to some confusing feelings and a confession. Please reblog leave feedback!

The Traveler’s Masterlist

You’d had your suspicions for a while, but it wasn’t until you got the message on social media from a girl he’d dated and dumped who had photographic proof of it that you finally had to face the truth.

Your fiance was cheating on you.

Eric was a naga and had been with you for more than five years. He had asked you to marry him, ring and all, on New Years Eve with his family. He had made a big show of it, too. And now, you were going to have to confront him about being a cheating bastard.

The woman who had been dumped told you that he was now dating her friend, and she had gotten the room number where they were supposed to meet. You got to the hotel with your heart in your throat and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” That was definitely Eric’s voice. He had told you that his friend needed help moving and that he’d be staying over to help him. What a good friend he was.

You deepened your voice in an effort to mask it. “Room service.”

“Oh, good, I was wondering if you were ever going to come,” Eric said, and the door swung open. As soon as he saw you, the blood drained out of his already pale face.

“No, wait--”

“Hey, babe, did they bring the right wine this time?” A female voice said from inside.

You took off your ring and threw it in his face and called inside the room, “You can have the bastard.” And walked away.

“Wait, please, this isn’t what you think,” Eric said, slithering quickly down the hall to catch you. He grabbed your arm and you wrenched it violently out of his grasp.

“Babe, who’s this?” The woman said. She was human and pretty, you guessed.

“I’m his fiance,” You retorted. “Oh, sorry, ex-fiance. Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“What the fuck, Eric?!” She shouted at him. “Are you kidding me?”

“Rachel, it’s not…” He stuttered. “It isn’t…”

Rachel slapped him and pushed past you toward the elevator, not looking back.

“Babe--” He started, turning back toward you.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe,’ you son of a bitch. Why? Why would you do this to me? Why would you waste five fucking years of my life?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you--”

“I don’t give a shit what you meant to do! I want an explanation. Was the sex bad? Do you not love me anymore? Are you just the type of person who has to have a side-chick? What? What about this is good for you? What about all this made destroying our relationship worth it?”

He groaned and scratched his head with both hands. “I… It… I can be anything I want to be with those girls, you know? If I say I’m rich, then I’m rich. If I say I’m successful, then I’m successful, and they don’t know better. They don’t know I have a shitty job that I hate. They don’t know that my girlfriend makes twice as much money as me, that she’s popular with people and everyone likes her better than me, even my own fucking family. They don’t know what a fucking loser I am.”

“And that’s my fucking fault?!” You screamed at him. “You know what you could have done instead of ruining a five year relationship? Gotten fucking therapy! Or, better yet, talked to me about it! I have been nothing but supportive of you. I have encouraged you to leave your job and find a better one. I told you I would support you until you found something that made you happy. You could have gone back to school or done and apprenticeship or vocational work, whatever, and I’d have been there! You could do whatever you wanted, and I would have helped you, and you know that!”

“Right, because you so fucking perfect, huh?” He yelled back. “It’s not enough that you rub your perfect job in my face every day and go around spending whatever you want because you don’t have to worry about money, but you also have to be perfectly supportive and perfectly giving and perfectly loving, too, right? How am I supposed to feel good about myself when you’re always better than me at everything?”

“So, it’s my fault you’re cheating on me because I’m a good girlfriend? Is that what you’re saying to me? I’m too fucking nice, so you had to put your dick in random women to feel better about yourself?” You raised your hands as if surrendering and shook your head in disbelief. “You know what? Fucking forget me. Forget our relationship, forget getting married, forget you ever knew me, forget my fucking face, don’t ever come to my house, don’t ever message me again, delete my number from your phone. As far as you’re concerned, I don’t exist to you, because you sure as shit don’t exist to me anymore.” You turned to leave.

“What about my stuff?” He protested.

“Send your brother to come get your shit,” You said without turning. “If you set foot on my property, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing. I’m not fucking around. I’m so fucking glad you never moved in when I offered. ”

“So that’s it?” He said as you waited for the elevator to come back up. “You’re not even willing to work this out? It’s just over?”

“Get fucked, Eric,” You said, stepping into the elevator. “Oh wait, you already did. Do yourself a favor and sell that ring to pay for a therapist.” And the door closed on him.

As soon as the elevator started to move, you hit the floor and sobbed. Why? Why was he like this? You thought everything was perfect up until a few months ago, and you hadn’t know he felt like this. He always seemed happy. How were you supposed to know otherwise if he never said anything?

How you got back home, you didn’t know, because you didn’t remember it. You grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the freezer and didn’t even bother with a glass. For about an hour, you just sat there disheveled on your couch, crying and drinking.

Sometime later, there was a sheepish knock on your door. You hoped to God that it wasn’t Eric, but when you opened the door, Errol was there. Errol, Eric, and their sister Enya, were all from the same clutch of eggs, so he looked a lot like his brother in that they all had white, black, gold scales, golden eyes, cream colored skin, and blond hair. Errol was a bit larger that Eric, and where Eric wore his hair short, Errol kept his long and braided back. You always thought that it made him look elegant, despite his size. He was still wearing his work clothes, as if he’d just come from his construction job.

You and Errol hadn’t spent much time together alone, since Eric was a little jealous of other men. He’d always been very nice to you, though, and liked you just as well as the rest of his family. He’d even given you advice a few times in the past when you and Eric were fighting.

“Can I come in?” He asked, wincing.

“Did you know?” You asked him, your throat raw and hoarse from crying.

“No, I didn’t know,” He said solemnly.

“Don’t bullshit me, Errol,” You replied harshly.

“I swear I didn’t know. I would have told you, I promise. My brother can be an asshole, but I never thought he would do something like this.” Errol grimaced. “Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” You retorted, your voice shaking as the tears returned. “If you’ve come to get his stuff, just get it and leave.”

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about his stuff, I’m here for you,” Errol said. He held up a couple of plastic bags. “I brought take out and ice cream.”

“I’m not hungry,” You said vaguely, but you moved aside to let him in.

“I got alcohol, too,” He said as he slithered inside. “I could make you a Bailey’s float.”

You sighed and sniffled. “Okay.”

You sat at your table as he bustled around making the drink, laying your tear-flushed face on the cool surface of the wood.

“What did I do wrong?” You asked weepily with your cheek pressed against the table.

“Nothing,” Errol said as he lay the glass in front of you, moving a chair so that he could coil up next to the table. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why did he do it?” You asked, sitting up and taking a watery bite of the ice cream. “Why wasn’t I enough? He said ‘girls,’ which means there’s probably more than the two I know about. How long has he been doing this? Our whole relationship?”

“When he called me to come over here and get his stuff for him, I asked. I’m not sure if he was telling me the truth, but he said it’s only been the last year.” Errol snorted derisively. “Only.”

“How many girls?” You asked.

He shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. He kept trying to get me to side with him, but…” Errol rolled his eyes. “I’m not buying anything he says right now.”

“Did he do this to his other girlfriends?”

“Well, you were his first serious girlfriend,” Errol said. “Before you, he only dated casually, so it was never a problem. When he said he really loved you, I thought he meant it.”

“Yeah.” Your lip quivered and you stabbed the spoon into your float. “Me too.”

Errol reached out and pulled you into a tight hug, which you sank into and let loose again, soaking his shirt in tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Errol whispered into your hair.

At some point, Errol put you to bed. You were exhausted and drunk and just wanted to sleep, so he lay you down and left you to it.

When the morning came, you felt like your head had been run over with a truck. You decided to get some coffee going before taking a shower, but to your surprise, Errol was still there. He was in the kitchen on the phone, his hair out of it’s usual braid and tumbling down his shoulders.

“What the hell is wrong with you, dude?” Errol said. You immediately realized he was talking to his brother. “No, I’m not picking up your shit. I don’t care if she burns it all.” He was silent for a moment, and you could hear Eric speaking. “No… No, you’re full of shit. Do you know what a good thing you had? Do you have any idea what I would give to have what you just shit on? …fuck no, I’m not going to talk her into taking you back, are you insane?! Get over yourself… No… No, it’s not happening, you can go fuck yourself right now… Look, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now.”

Errol hung up and turned, startled to realize you were standing there. “Oh, hey,” He said. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” You replied honestly. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Yeah, you were in bad shape last night and I didn’t want to leave you alone. I slept on the couch, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” You said. “I was just going to make coffee.”

“Oh, I already made some,” He said, going to the coffee pot and pouring you a mugful. “I figured you could use it. I’ve got breakfast coming too, something greasy to absorb all that alcohol.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” You said, sipping the coffee. It was really good, but not your normal brand, though it tasted very familiar. Actually, now that you thought about it, you always drank the gross coffee Eric liked. This was a nice change. “I’m going to take a shower and wash last night off of me. Are you okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time,” He said, turning to pull down plates and prepare for breakfast.

You were about to turn to the bathroom but stopped. “Errol.”

He looked back up at you. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for… thanks.”

He smiled at you. “It’s no problem at all.”

You took your shower with your head pressed against the tile. Why couldn’t you just forget? Why couldn’t you put all of it out of your mind and stop thinking about it? What would it take to make the pain stop?

The water was cold by the time you got out, and when you went back into the kitchen, the food had arrived and Errol had everything set out on the table. He looked up anxiously when you came in.

“You okay?” He said, concerned. “You were in there for a worryingly long time. I was thinking about going in there if you hadn’t come out in five minutes.”

“I’m fine. Well, not fine, but you know.”

“Yeah,” He said sympathetically. “Try to eat. All you had last night were two bites of ice cream and a lot of alcohol.”

You picked up your fork and speared a sausage. “I must look horrible.”

“Nope, not possible,” He said, tucking into his own plate of food. “A person can look tired and cute at the same time, you know.”

You snorted, prodding your puffy face gently. “You’re too nice. Maybe I should have dated you instead.”

He laughed. “You know, it’s actually kinda funny, I was going to ask you out back in college before you started dating Eric.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah, he kind of sniped you, if I’m being honest.”

“I never knew that,” You said. “Did he know you wanted to ask me out?”

“Oh, yeah, I told him,” He said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “I told him there was a girl at my college who always went to this one coffee shop near campus, and I told him I was going buy you your favorite coffee and cookies as an icebreaker.”

Your head rocked back. “That’s exactly what he did when he asked me out.”

Errol tsked sardonically. “Yeah. I know.”

You scoffed. “Wow, what an absolute asshole.”

Errol shrugged and smiled. “Ancient history now. Do you want some more coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks,” You said as he filled your cup. “This is really good, what is it?”

“Orange and almond mocha.”

You cocked your head. “Wait… isn’t that the blend I drank at the coffee shop? It used to be my favorite.”

“I know,” He said. “I ordered some. I thought it might be a nice pick-me-up. The shit that Eric drinks is revolting.”

“That’s definitely true,” You said, looking at Errol closely. “You remembered what my favorite coffee blend was from five years ago?”

Errol looked up at you. His face seemed carefully blank.

“Yeah, but I mean, it’s no big deal.” He wiped his mouth and sat back. “I should get going, I have work in a few hours. Are you going to be okay here on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I think I’m going to take some personal days.”

Errol nodded.”That’s a good idea. I’ll call later to check on you, okay? If you need anything, just text me.”

“Okay,” You said, feeling a little off-balance.

Errol smiled and let himself out, and you were left standing there, staring after him as an overwhelming sense of realization hit you like a freight train.

…did I date the wrong brother all this time?

Later in the day, Eric called. You almost weren’t going to pick up, but you decided to see what he had to say for himself now that the heat of the moment had passed.

“What do you want?” You said brusquely.

“Why did my brother spend the night at your house last night?” Eric said immediately.

“...excuse me?” You replied, incredulous.

“You heard me. What the fuck was he doing there?”

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

“What do you mean, it’s not my business? He’s my brother and you’re my fiance!”

“Ex-fiance,” You corrected him. “First of all, you are the one who told him to come over in the first place. Secondly, I was not obviously doing well last night and he stayed to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid or die in my sleep of alcohol poisoning. And third, and I cannot stress this enough, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“Don’t bullshit me, you know he’s in love with you.”

Your head snapped back in agitation. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, you really don’t know? Ms. Perfect doesn’t know that my asshole brother has had a crush on you for years?”

“You’re full of shit, Eric,” You retorted. “Don’t drag Errol into this.”

“Did you just decide to fuck my brother to get back at me, is that it?”

“Fuck you, Eric!” You hung up the phone and hit the floor, a wave of anguish washing you again. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did he have to make everything worse?

The phone rang again, and it was Eric. You decided to block him and be done with it. You got a notification from Facebook, and then Twitter, and then Instagram, all from Eric. Every new notification made your anxiety rise higher and higher until you were balled up on the floor, sobbing again. In desperation, she dialed Errol’s number.

“Hello?”

“Please help,” She begged, weeping. “He won’t leave me alone. He keeps messaging me and calling me. I can’t… I can’t do it…”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry,” Errol said. He sounded angry.

“Can you come over? Please?”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.”

“Okay. I’m going to turn off my phone.”

“That’s a good idea,” He said. “If I need to, I can message you on your gaming console.”

“Okay,” You said. “Bye.”

He hung up with you and you turned your phone off, sitting on the floor of your kitchen in the blissful silence, unable to get up.

Was that true? Could it be possible that Errol had been in love with you the whole time you’d been dating Eric? He said he’d wanted to ask you out. He remembered tiny details, like what your favorite coffee had been. He made you your favorite dessert when you were miserable without even having to ask what it was. He stayed overnight to make sure you didn’t get hurt or hurt yourself. He bought breakfast and defended you. He didn’t have to do any of that. He was just your fiance’s brother. Ex-fiance.

He arrived shortly after you called him. As soon as he entered the house, before he had a chance to say anything, you reached up, took his face in your hands, and kissed him. For a second or two, there was no reaction, but then he leaned into the kiss, deepening it, savoring it, before abruptly putting his hands on your shoulders and pushing you back, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“...why did you do that?” He asked you, his face grim.

“Eric told me,” You said. “He said you’ve been in love with me the entire time I was dating him. Is that true?”

Errol looked down and away. “Look--”

“You told Eric on the phone that you’d have given anything to have what he had. You meant me, right?”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Errol, look at me!” You shouted.

It seemed to take a lot of will, but Errol’s eyes flicked back up to meet yours. They were pleading with you.

“Do you love me?”

His face scrunched as if he were in pain and he swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t…

“Don’t…lie to me,” You said in a tense whisper, tears spilling from your eyes. “Do you?”

Tears began to gather in his own eyes. His response was barely audible.

“…yes.”

“For how long?”

“Since I first saw you in the coffee shop.”

You tried to press forward to kiss him again, but he held you firm, sniffing. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“But I don’t want to be used to get revenge on my brother,” He whispered back, his voice strangled and uneven. “It’s not good for you and it’s not fair to me. You know that.”

Your face crumpled. He was right.

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed, unable to look at him anymore. “I just don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want him in my head.”

Finally, Errol pulled you into a hug.

“I know,” He said. His body was tense, as if he were restraining himself. “We can revisit this later. Much later.”

“When?” You asked piteously.

“Not now. Not soon. You need time to heal and I… need to think.”

“I’m sorry, Errol,” You cried into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never saw it.”

He laughed slightly. “It’s not your fault. I got really good at hiding it. And Eric always kept you at arms length from me. I think he was afraid I’d steal you away or something.”

He let you go and you stepped away, looking at the ground in shame.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was using you,” You said. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

He put his hand under his chin and made you look up at him, his thumb stroking your cheek. “For what it’s worth, I’m relieved the secret is out now. Tiptoeing around you and Eric was exhausting. The engagement was my worst nightmare, because it meant I’d have to just suffer in silence forever.”

“Well, I’m glad that’s over for both our sakes, then,” You said, attempting to smile.

He smiled too, but it was very soft. Gentle. “I don’t… think it’s a good idea for us to hang out together much from now on, at least for a while,” He said, letting go. “But… we can text. We can call. If you need anything, I’m always here for you. That’s always been true.”

You nodded. “I know.” You sighed and took another step back. “I’m going to miss you.”

His smile widened sadly. “I’m not far, but… I know what you mean.”

With the both of you in tears, he turned, opened the door, and was gone. Thirty seconds after he left, however, you got a text.

>Are you okay?

You smiled through your tears, feeling glad and grateful that he was still communicating with you. >No. But I think I will be.

>Good.

>Are you okay? You asked in return.

>Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. This was a lot at once.

>Yeah, no kidding. I think I may see a therapist to help me out.

>That’s a really good idea. Maybe I should too.

>I think everyone should at least once.

>Yeah. Do you need anything?

>No, I’m okay. Thank you for everything, Errol.

>It’s my pleasure.

Some time passed. You and Errol talked and texted every single day. Neither of you brought up dating each other and carefully avoided affectionate language. He wanted you to heal and you wanted to give him a fair chance without the cloud of his brother hanging over you.

Talking to him was effortless, like talking to yourself. You each had your own tastes and dislikes, but you both loved a lot of the same things and had similar desires. You both loved your jobs, enjoyed the same music, gushed over books you’d read, and liked playing board games. One of your favorite things to do was watch movies remotely over Zoom. It was almost like being on a date, even if you couldn’t be together.

As hard as you tried not to, you compared everything Errol did to Eric. Even still, it was obvious that Errol had always been better suited to you than Eric ever was. It was abundantly clear that you had indeed been dating the wrong brother the entire time.

On what was supposed to be your anniversary with Eric, Errol sent you a link to play a horror game with him. Errol hated anything horror, so instead of spending the day crying and drinking and cursing Eric for being alive, you got to laugh the whole day at how loud Errol screamed when he was startled. It ended up being a wonderful day.

You did see a therapist, as did Errol, and the two of you would talk about your sessions with each other, sharing the advice the counselors had given you. He also sent you gifts through delivery, like the coffee you loved and your favorite treats. Whenever you’d had a bad day or had to deal with Eric due to post-breakup business, a treat would arrive the next day, and it always put a smile on your face.

You were worried that all the time apart might change how Errol felt, but he never wavered. You woke up every day to a text saying good morning, and went to bed after talking to him for at least an hour about your day. After a month, you realized that a day or two would go by when you wouldn’t think of Eric at all. You hadn’t thought that would be possible when you first broke up with Eric, and he did still haunt your thoughts most of the time, but the respite from the emotional distress of thinking of him, even for a short time, was wonderful.

Three months after the breakup and his confession, you, Errol, and your therapists all decided that you were ready to date again. That same day, Errol showed up on your doorstep with flowers. The sight of him was like breathing fresh air after being underwater.

“Hi,” He said, smiling brightly.

“Hi,” You replied, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. He reciprocated without hesitation.

“So…” He said, not letting go. “Do you want to go out with me tonight?”

“Yes,” You said, cuddling him closer.

He pulled back and kissed you for a very long time, tasting your lips and teasing his tongue just inside your mouth. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and just looked at your face, touching your cheeks with his fingertips. Eventually he stepped back.

“Let’s go.”

Dating him was amazing. He knew everything there was to know about you, so he took you to places you loved, to all your favorite restaurants, to concerts he knew you’d enjoy. It was like you’d been dating for years already, even though it was just a few weeks. You made out like teenagers, hot and heavy, but he was careful about being intimate too quickly, though, still fearful about being a rebound. You respected that.

You were already talking about the future, though. You both wanted to get married eventually and to be parents before you turned thirty. Before breaking up, you had been talking about having kids with Eric, which was something he had expressed interest in during the start of your relationship, but recently he had been making excuses, like he didn’t have enough in savings or he didn’t feel ready. You guessed you knew why now.

You were worried that his family would be angry with you for ending your relationship with Eric and dating Errol, but they seemed completely understanding. It was likely they were also aware that Errol had been in love with you forever, and the fact that Eric cheated on you wasn’t something they were proud of. You were still warmly invited to all the family gatherings with Errol, and while having Eric there was a little awkward, his seething anger at seeing you happy with Errol was the best revenge you could have asked for.

“They let everyone in the office have the day off. Do you want to hang out today?” You asked Errol one night after about a month and a half of dating.

“Ordinarily I’d love to, but I’m feeling kinda weird today. Squishy. I think I’m going to have my period soon.”

He wasn’t being hyperbolic; nagas with male sex organs both created the eggs and fertilized them, but they didn’t have a womb or cavity in their bodies where the eggs could incubate, which is why they needed people with uteruses to propagate the species. It took a month for the eggs to develop inside them, but after that, they could implant them into another person’s body at any time they chose. However, after a year, the eggs died naturally and were expelled from their bodies, therefore, male nagas experienced periods once a year. Eric usually went to a specialized facility where the eggs would be humanely disposed of.

“Are you sure? Isn’t it rather soon for that.”

“I went into heat last week. The eggs usually die quickly after that.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” You said. “Why did you go into heat? That typically only happens when nagas in a sexual relationship with someone, right?”

“That, and if you’re experiencing extreme sexual needs that aren’t being met.”

“Oh. Ohhh…” You hissed in a breath. “Is it because of me?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” He reassured you. “It’s my problem. I’ll take care of it.”

You were silent for a moment of deep contemplation. He seemed to sense you were thinking about something.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“Do you think the eggs are still viable?”

It was his turn to be silent. “Um… maybe. Probably. I think it’ll be another week before I need to go in to evacuate them. Why do you ask?”

“I was just thinking…” You said slowly. “We both said we wanted kids. And I know we’re just starting out, and this is super sudden, and it probably doesn’t even make sense to do this now, and we haven’t even had sex yet, but… oh, god, I’m rambling…” You sighed heavily. “If you’d like, we can wait until next year when we’ve been together for longer, but… it just seems like this is a good opportunity. It… feels right, you know what I mean? If that’s what you want.”

He took another moment of silence to think really hard about what you were saying. “Are you sure about this, honey?” He asked you finally.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am,” You said resolutely. “I love you, and I’m in a good place, both emotionally and financially. I’m ready to be a mom. I have been for years.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt anxiously. “Is this something you want? I mean… I totally understand if it isn’t. If you want to wait, that’s fine with me. I just… I want to do this.”

His voice turned sultry. “You really want my eggs?”

You grinned and bit your lip. You’d learned through hints in conversations you had with him that he had a little bit of a breeding and pregnancy kink.

“Yeah. But we should act fast if we want them to take.”

“I’ll be right over,” He said, and the phone clicked.

You immediately went into the bathroom to get ready, feeling nervous. There was a weight of expectation on you, not just because you were talking about getting pregnant, but also because of how long Errol had wanted to be with you. You were scared that you wouldn’t live up to his expectation.

He arrived shortly after, looking excited and nervous. You pulled him into your arms and kissed him. He was shaking.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yeah,” He said, touching your face reverently. “I’ve just… I’ve been dreaming of this for so long. I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”

You smiled softly at him. “Come on.” You took him by the hand and pulled him toward the bedroom. He took a deep, shaky breath and followed.

Once in the room, he pulled you in and kissed you again, deeper this time, more probing, his body pressed flush against yours.

“I’m not sure how to… begin…” He said. “I don’t know what you like and don’t like yet.”

“We can learn as we go,” You said. “We don’t have to rush.”

“Well, what do you like? Do you have any kinks I should know about?”

You laughed. “I have a few, I guess.”

“Tell me about one,” He said.

Instead of telling, you knelt down and sat on your knees with your butt resting on your feet, perched forward on your hands, and looked up at him through your lashes.

“What would you like me to do for you?” You asked, biting your lip.

His eyebrows rose and a startled smile spread across his face. “Oh,” He said. Slowly, he took off his long shirt, exposing his torso and the slit on his lower abdomen, usually closed and imperceptible from his scales, but now swollen and puckered slightly. He ran his fingers through your hair where you were crouched on the floor and came close, so that his slit was near your face.

“Touch it for me, sweetie,” He said.

Gently, you circled one finger around the slit, feeling it pulse under your touch. He exhaled sharply and his head fell back, his braid swinging. With your forefinger and middle finger, you stroked it up and down, watching it open slowly. You leaned forward and kissed it, and he spasmed, groaning.

Gradually, two dicks emerged from his slit, a long, thin one with a spear-like head, and a shorter, thick one with a bulbous head. You knew each had a different purpose. Normally, the thin one would be retracted so that nagas could just enjoy sex, but the thin one was an ovipositor. It’s what implanted the eggs. You knew not to touch it, since it secreted a numbing agent that made implanting the eggs easier.

“Now?” You asked.

“Not yet,” He said. “You’re not ready yet. Stand up.”

You obeyed, and he began to undress you. You started to help, but he said, “No, no, let me do it.”

You put your arms back down and let him peel your clothes off. And then he just looked at you.

“Stand still,” He said. “Stay quiet.”

You nodded, obeying.

“Good girl,” He whispered. “That’s my good girl.”

He started with your shoulders, letting his fingers run over your skin, down your arms, up your sides, caressing your breasts, down your belly, and reached one hand between your legs. You gasped.

“Shh,” He said. “Stay silent.”

It was a hard order to follow, as he touched your pearl and massaged it slowly, running a finger inside your slit as he did. Your breathing was uneven and you had to bite a finger, but you managed to be quiet.

“You can make all the noise you want soon,” He promised seductively. “I just want to test how good you can be for me.”

You nodded again, your body shivering at his touch.

He brought his face very close to yours, so that your lips were mere millimeters apart, but stopped short of actually kissing you. You could feel his cool breath on your neck and chest, and it made your heart race.

“You’re getting there,” He said, pushing a finger inside your entrance. You inhaled, but bit down on your cheek to stay silent.

“Good girl,” He said, pulling his finger out. "Lay face down on the bed and lift your ass up. Spread your legs open.”

You nodded again and followed his orders, doing exactly what he asked of you. He slithered up behind you and went back to touching between your legs with one hand, the other sliding up and down your spine. You felt him sink down and kiss your thighs.

“You can moan for me, darling,” He said.

You were happy to obey, and whimpered against your pillow as he licked a long stripe from behind, kneading your buttocks as he did. He moaned as he sucked on you, your legs shaking. He pressed his thumb into you as he sucked, and you thought you were going to cum. He stopped just before that happened, leaving you feeling desperate.

“Good,” He said. “You’re perfect.” He crawled over you from the back so that his face was next to yours and he kissed you. “Are you still sure about this? We can just have sex, I don’t have to breed you.”

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Don’t worry about what I want right now, are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Yes,” You simpered. “I want it. Give them to me. Please. I want them.”

He bit his lip, looked at you like you were something he wanted to eat, and grinned. “Good girl.” He went out of view then, and you felt his hands on your hips.

“Be still,” He said. “Let me in.”

You nodded, and felt the slim tube enter your body. The anesthetic began working immediately, so you only had a vague sensation of it pushing all the way in, penetrating your womb, and fixing itself there.

“Are you hurting, love?” He asked as he lay over you, putting his arm under your head so that you could lay on it and resting his body on top of you. Your hips were still in the air and your stomach wasn’t touching the bed.

“No, I’m okay,” You replied.

“Good,” He said, sounding a bit strained, his body tensing. His stuttering breath blew through your hair. “It’s starting.”

He grunted, but you couldn’t tell if it was in pleasure or pain. His breathing was sharp and punctuated as the egg moved down through the ovipositor and into you. You could feel a small swell in your stomach, but it wasn’t painful. He pressed his forehead against your shoulder and relaxed and shuddered, gasping.

“Did it hurt?” You asked.

“Not exactly,” He replied a little breathlessly. “It feels good, but it’s also a bit of work to push it out. Sorry this isn’t as sexy as you might have hoped.”

“Who said it wasn’t?” You replied, nuzzling him. “It’s like a special kind of foreplay. Besides, I’m really enjoying all the sounds that are coming out of you.”

“I can feel that,” He said, laughing. “You keep squeezing me.” He tensed again and started grunting, hugging you tightly.

“You’re doing great,” You told him.

“This is… harder than I thought it would be,” He said stiltedly. You could feel the sweat from his brow dripping on your skin.

“You can do it,” You said, kissing his arm as it gripped you and biting his thumb. “How many do you think there are?”

“I think three,” He said. He exhaled forcefully, and you felt another swell slip into you as he panted.

“One more, honey,” You said. “Deep breaths.”

He snickered, and then groaned. “Okay…” He said. He gripped you hard as the last one came and passed through. You were beginning to feel a full sensation in your belly and felt glad this was the last one.

Once it was out, the ovipositor retracted and he flopped onto the bed, gasping like a fish.

“Whoa,” He said. “Laying them in a person is way different than disposing of them.”

“How so?” You asked, moving to lie on your side so that you could touch him. He was clammy and cold.

“That felt great,” He said, looking over at you and smiling. “Like, it hurt a bit, but it felt like a small orgasm every time.”

“Probably a biological incentive to procreate,” You said, kissing his chest and neck.

He snorted. “Probably.” He looked at you with his eyes half lidded. “It’s going to be a few minutes until you get the feeling back down there. Why don’t you spend some time and play with me?”

“Is that an order?” You asked.

“Do you want me to punish you?” He asked.

“Maybe I’ll like it,” You said with a smirk.

He took you by the chin and made you look down at the second, larger cock, which was still erect and bobbing. “Touch me.”

You went down and sat astride his tail so that he could watch you take his cock in your hand, and begin to slowly pump it up and down.

“Hmm, that’s good,” He said with a satisfied sigh. “Let me know when your feeling comes back. We don’t want to waste time.”

“I will,” You said, stroking him. Your stomach felt tight, so you rubbed it as you touched him, drawing his eye. He watched you hungrily.

“I can’t believe you did that,” He said, smiling at you.

“We’re only half-way there,” You told him. “Don’t get too excited.”

He bucked his tail and nearly knocked you over onto the bed, making you shriek and laugh.

After a few minutes of teasing and touching and good-natured laughter, the feeling began to return. You started rocking on his tail to be sure, and realized that you were extremely sensitive.

“It’s back?” He asked

You nodded, pleasuring yourself against his body.

“Good. Lay down.”

You obeyed, and he moved to lay on top of you, his tail between your legs and his slit lining up with yours, kissing you deeply and rolling your nipples in his fingers. He pushed himself inside you as he kissed you, careful not to go too deep, as the ovipositor had made you a little sore. You rolled your body against his in time with his thrusts. You were so sensitive that you could already feel the crest of ecstasy beginning to wash over you.

“I love you so much,” He whispered against your skin. “I’m so happy.”

“I love you,” You replied, your hands in his hair as he moved inside you with purpose, precision. “I’m close. I’m so close.”

He stopped immediately, and you groaned shrilly, the sensation of denial sending a shiver up your back.

“Not yet,” He said, biting your lower lip. “Not until I say. Be a good girl.”

You nodded, panting and trembling, but your body was betraying you, writhing desperately against him, trying to regain the friction.

“Be still,” He said. “I’m not going to move again until you be still.”

You squealed in need, but you did your best to make your body stop clutching at him. It took a minute, but you managed to settle down.

“Good,” He said, slowly moving inside you again. “Good girl.”

“Cum inside me,” You begged. “Please.”

“I will,” He said, kissing you. “When I want to. Be patient and I’ll reward you.”

Your body was wound so tightly that you thought you were going to explode, practically vibrating underneath him. The sight of it made him grin.

“You’re so beautiful,” He said, licking your earlobe, still keeping the maddeningly slow pace. “Do you want it that bad?”

“Yes!” You groaned. “Yes, please. Errol, please.”

He thrust sharply, but not hard, and you nearly came undone. You cried out, about to snap like a string.

“Are you always going to be a good girl for me?” He whispered sinfully.

“Yes!”

“Do you promise me?”

“Yes!”

“Say it. Say ‘I promise.’”

“I promise, I promise, please!”

His thrusts became targeted again. “Beg me some more.”

“Errol, please! Please let me cum, please!” You cried. Every muscle, every nerve in your body was screaming for release.

“You can cum when I tell you to,” He said, though his movements were extremely efficient now. He was very good at drawing this out.

“I can’t take it, please!” You begged.

“One more time, say you love me, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I love you! I love you so much! Please!”

From there, he wasted no time, slamming himself into you with speed. In no time at all, you were a screaming, shaking mess underneath him, thanking him over and over. The tension in his body and the sudden shout and moaning from him told you that he had reached his peak too.

“Not yet,” He gasped, rearing up. “I’m not done yet.”

He had leaned up so that he could look down at you and put his hand on your stomach, feeling the new hardness there. He kept going, pistoning against your body, snapping his hips against you, and rode the wave for a second time, all focus and concentration.

The both of you came one final time before he collapsed on the bed beside you, sucking in air as hard as you were. For a few minutes, all you could do was breathe.

After some time, he left the bed and went into the bathroom, and you heard the water in the tub running. You were barely conscious when he came back and lifted you out of the bed, taking you into the bathroom, and lay you down in the warm water of the bath. You were so tired and boneless that you could hardly raise your head, so he carefully, lovingly washed your body, paying special attention to your belly.

“Are you alive?” He asked after some time of sitting next to the tub, watching you drift in and out.

“I think so,” You replied, opening your eyes to smile sleepily at him. “Do you think they took?”

“We won’t know for a while. You should take it easy until then.” He smoothed the hair away from your face and stroked your cheek. “You’re going to have my babies,” He said, laughing a little.

“I hope so,” You said, taking his hand and kissing the palm.

“Eric is going to be pissed,” Errol said, snickering.

You snorted. “Honestly, I haven’t thought about him once today. This isn’t about him.”

Errol kissed you. “You’re right. It isn’t. It’s about us.” He lay his hand on your stomach and smiled gently. “All of us.”

Only one of the eggs took, but that was okay. Errol’s parents were overjoyed to learn they’d be getting a grandchild. Both you and Errol decided Eric could learn it on Facebook, like all the other strangers and acquaintances in your lives.

You took maternity leave so that you could pass your gestational time in relative peace. Errol fussed over you, making sure you ate properly and went with you to all your appointments. You made the decision to lay the egg at home instead of the hospital, and Errol’s sister acted as the midwife. It was the toughest work you’d ever done, and Errol was the best cheerleader you could have asked for.

Errol took paternity leave, like you had done, since he couldn’t leave the egg, anyway. He incubated the egg for the rest of the gestation period, curled up around it day and night. Errol’s son, Ewan, was born six months after being conceived, and within another year, you and Errol were married.

You often wondered if things had been different, if you had dated Errol from the beginning instead of Eric, if you’d be as overjoyed as you were at the moment. But then you figured that wondering about what ifs was a waste of time. You had a happy family to look after now, after all, and another clutch on the way. There was no time to worry about the past. The future was right in front of you.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ash can I maybe have some soft vampire chris, or soft early chris? Pleeease? :3 -theo-

Not sure if this counts as soft, @boxboysandotherwhump, but...

CW: Vampire whumpee turned caretaker, blood drinking, bad guy death, caretaker turned whumpee,

The duct tape across his mouth feels like a fucking insult more than a gag, and Jake glares at the asshole pressing it in over his lips. The guy meets his gaze with a cockeyed grin.

"Oh, don't look so put out, you're the one who had to come downstairs and interrupt us. Just stay right there, still and quiet, and we'll be in and out before you know it, bud."

He gets a pat on the head, and Jake jerks away from it, his mouth trying to curse without being able to open. The tape pulls painfully and he holds back his wince.

He kicks out, but the guy dodges it easily. His hands are taped behind his back, wrapped again and again with the damn duct tape until it feels like they're cutting off his fucking circulation.

He'd come downstairs for a glass of water, that was all. Just a drink to help himself get ready for bed after finishing up an essay at 1:30 in the morning, and he'd found out people had broken in only when he more or less walked in on them taking the TV right out the front door.

A gun to his back had gotten him on the couch, and now he felt a little bit like the whole roasting chickens you buy at the store all tied up with twine.

"In and out," A second guy agrees, taking Jake's game consoles from the entertainment center right in front of him. "No need to be all fussy about it, man. Not like you aren't insured, right?"

"Cutie like you shouldn't worry about anything." The first guy ruffles his hair.

Jake kicks out again, and this time it lands.

He feels the pain of kicking with bare feet and doesn't care, what matters is the expression of almost comical surprise on the robber's face as he connects with his knee and sends the guy crashing to the ground.

"God damn it!" The guy rubs at his knees, glaring up at Jake before he pushes himself up, pulling the gun out of the back of his pants where he'd kept, swinging his arm to hit Jake across the face with the butt of the pistol.

The pain cracks bright and white in his mind, behind his eyes, and he groans, muffled by the tape.

"Have some fucking manners!" The man snaps, and hits him again, the other side of his face. Pain, again. Stronger than the ache in his cheekbone, though, is Jake's anger.

How dare these assholes? How dare they? Nat is just trying to help people, and here they're walking around robbing her, and she's a better person than she should be, than anyone should be, and how. fucking. dare. they?

He kicks again, connects but the guy stays up this time. He just starts hitting Jake, over and over, with the butt of the pistol.

Again and again.

On the final blow across his forehead, something feels like it snaps, and Jake's thoughts scatter apart, replaced by a dizzy sickness as the world spins crazily. He slumps to the side, dropping onto the soft couch cushion. He's bleeding from his head, now, he thinks.

Head wounds always bleed so fucking much.

At least he can tell the ER doctors the truth about how he got this one.

There's a soft hissing sound that starts up, and Jake can't place it. He blinks once, twice, but he's having trouble focusing. He has a moment of wild incomprehensible worry about if the kettle is about to whistle, if the water is boiling for tea. The two men, though, glance to the side, towards the entryway to the house, where the stairs are, in confusion.

The house is dark. It's 2 in the morning by now, and everything is mostly silent in the world, just the soft buzz of the streetlights by the sidewalk, the occasional rumble of a passing car, and... a strange, nearby hissing.

"What the fuck? Do these idiots have a cat?" Guy 1 grabs a flashlight hanging off some kind of weirdass toolbelt he wears and shines it towards the stairs.

There's a sudden scuffle near the stairs, and the hissing ramps up in volume, becomes a wild, shrieking, inhuman scream.

Jake can't see that far, but he dimly hears Guy 2 exclaim, "Jesus Christ, what is that?!"

"Oh, my God!"

Movement.

The scream seems to echo, to hang in the air, the sound of an animal who feels only fury.

The flashlight drops, shining pointlessly into the corner of the living room, on nothing at all.

Jake stares into the darkness, struggling to see, as one of the men, the one who pistol-whipped him, falls backwards as if pushed, knocked onto his back onto the floor, and... something lands on top of him.

It occurs to Jake that it's Chris just as the little vampire drops his head to the man's neck and then quickly tears to the side, slitting his throat as easily as Jake might cut through butter with a warm knife.

There's a spray of blood, and Jake flinches as some of it lands on his own face, on the couch, spreads across the floor.

Chris raises his head, his eyes reflecting in the dim light, glowing like a cat's with pupils slit with focus, his bloodied mouth open in a snarl.

His fangs seem longer than they were last night.

The man beneath him struggles, weakly, already dying. It takes moments before he goes still.

Chris raises his eyes, and the soft hissing starts up again as he turns to see the other man just as he moves to run.

Jake watches the guy make it to the door before Chris lands on his back, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him back inside, slamming the door. He jerks the man's head back, forcing his spine to arch, baring his neck for the fangs that bury there.

The man stumbles backwards with Chris hanging off his back. He makes it one step, two steps, three, and then drops onto his ass on the floor, clawing at Chris, at his hair, his face his shoulders.

His mouth is open in a scream, but the sound seems so far away, like it can't fight the volume of Chris's shrieking battle-cry from before, the wild call of a hunt.

The vampire locks on, and as the venom takes hold the man's fight suddenly ceases. He slumps, seated on the ground, chin dropping to his chest.

For a second, the only sound is the sickening liquid noise of Chris swallowing, again and again. Then he purrs, the rumble loud enough to echo through the room as he drinks, soft satisfied little hums making their way out of his throat. His hands knead of the man's shoulders where he holds him, like a cat kneading its paws into a blanket. It lasts a few seconds. Less than a minute.

It feels like forever.

When he finishes, he pulls away, stands up, and lets the man's body drop onto its back on the ground, the slack, wide-eyed expression lit by the beam of the flashlight still lying on the floor.

Chris turns to look at Jake, and his mouth and his shirt are drenched in blood. It's everywhere, and he looks every inch the monster vampires are said to be. Bloodthirsty and thoughtless, except that he doesn't look like he's still hungry or hunting.

He looks worried, and a little bit scared.

And so, so very young.

So... human.

"Jake?" His voice is slightly thick, and Jake tries not to think about why it sounds that way. "Are, are, are you okay?"

Now how in Christ's name does he answer that question?

He just shakes his head - pauses - and then nods.

It takes a couple of minutes for Chris to get a washcloth, wetting down the edges of the tape, pulling it free of Jake's mouth and then wetting again, bit by bit. It hurts less than it would otherwise. All Jake can smell is blood, and he gags, but at least he doesn't throw up. He's got that going for him, right?

His head throbs, until Chris leans over and licks the wound torn open across his forehead. The wet cool tongue is slightly rough, and Jake shudders in disgust and then...

Then, the pain in his head is simply gone.

"Wh-what-"

"Ssshhhh," Chris says, softly, pressing at his cheek, watching him wince. "I, I, I can't heal the, um, the, the bruises. Those are underneath. Does-... does, does anything, is anywhere else hurt?"

Jake blinks, and slowly shakes his head. "Chris, have you-... have you killed people before?"

Chris meets his eyes, and gives a very small smile.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Before, um. Before... you."

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @whumpfigure @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

[stardustprompts]

the poppy war - r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   drugs , death , murder , nsfw , prostitution mention , language

‘take off your clothes.’

‘why would anyone drug themselves before a test?’

‘you’re about to be a very lucky girl, sweet.’

‘wow that’s great. really great. Terrific.’

‘your folks are assholes.’

‘well fuck the heavenly order of things.’

‘don’t you have actual responsibilities?’

‘I don’t want to get on _____ ‘s bad side.’

‘you would make a terrible prostitute. no charm.’

‘what is so wrong with getting married?’

‘do you want to die?’

‘everything is spilling out of my head as quickly as I put it in.’

‘please do not commit spousal homicide.’

‘give me a way out of this shithole.’

‘hello, I’m praying.’

‘I seduced him with my nubile young body. you caught me.’

‘you can’t scare me into a confession, because I’m telling the truth.’

‘and that means you’re shit at your job.’

‘if you cross them—- if they even think you’ve looked at them funny—- they can and will hurt you.’

‘it’s easy to lose a language when you never speak it.’

‘you’re offending them with your very presence.’

‘they’ll make you an outsider, because you’re not like them.’

‘no matter what they say, you deserve to be here.’

‘I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you.’

‘I went out in the sun once. you should try it sometime.’

‘oh, you’re the one ____ hates.’

‘you’d be a prick too if your family was both rich and attractive.’

‘honestly? I think he just comes in here to get high.’

‘I think you’re flattering yourself.’

‘unless you’ve got a weapon, don’t aim for the face. the neck’s a better target.’

‘we aren’t here to be sophisticated. we’re here to fuck people up.’

‘this is the only kick you’ll ever need, really. a kick to bring down the most powerful warriors.’

‘power dictates acceptability.’

‘he hasn’t done anything to earn my respect. all he’s done is act high and mighty.’

‘you’re nothing. you shouldn’t even be here.’

‘consider me bullied and intimidated, just let me sleep.’

‘he’s playing with her. he’ll end it soon.’

‘they’re good at fighting, but not much else.’

‘spend a lot of time looking at ____’s eyes do you?’

‘a betrayal of that sort would not have been out of character.’

‘come on, you belong here too.’

‘they’re not going to get rid of me like this. not this easily.’

‘I’m calm! I’m extremely calm!’

‘you’d rather kill your own people than let the opponent’s army walk away?’

‘you don’t let an enemy walk away if they’ll certainly be a threat to you later.’

‘he can’t stop raving about you.’

‘oh, don’t pretend to be bashful. you love it.’

‘you’re a walking disaster.’

‘anyone this obstinate deserves some attention, if only to make sure you don’t become a walking hazard to everyone around you.’

‘I heard he got drunk on rice wine last week and pissed into ____’s window. he sounds awesome.’

‘it’s me, your favorite person in the whole wide world.’

‘I do not have a problem. you are making up this problem for reasons unbeknownst to me.’

‘you’re killing the mood.’

‘they were weak as shit. scrawnier than you, even.’

‘you’re a real asshole. you know that right?’

‘your state of mind is just as important as the state of your body.’

‘sometimes you must loose the string to let the arrow fly.’

‘because I want to break his stupid face.’

‘he’s the most dangerous when he’s desperate.’

‘from this point on you’re just going to be a danger to yourself and everyone around you.’

‘you’re too reckless. you hold grudges, you cultivate your rage and let it explode, and you’re careless about what you’re taught.’

‘I knew I was the only one that could help him.’

‘they honed his rage like a weapon, instead of teaching him to control it.’

‘one urinating statue for my easily entertained friend.’

‘I don’t believe in gods. but I believe in power.’

‘one might say you’ve been obsessed with ____.’

‘don’t look to your left. pretend you’re taking to me.’ / ‘I am talking to you.’

‘we’re studying very weird things.’

‘I don’t actually know what I’m getting into.’

‘here is what happened: you called a god, and the god answered.’

‘you know that if you don’t get answers now, the hunger will consume you and your mind will crack.’

‘you’ve glimpsed the other side and you can’t rest until you fill in the blanks.’

‘supernatural is a word for anything that doesn’t fit your present understanding of the world.’

‘I’m supposed to take it as true that you’re a god?’

‘I’m not a god. I am a mortal who has woken up, and there is power in awareness.’

‘are we getting high? oh, wow. we’re getting high.’

‘ah. the law. so inconvenient. so irrelevant.’

‘we are not madmen. but how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so?’

‘the price of power is pain.’

‘I understand the truth of things. I know what it means to exist.’

‘prey do not question the motives of the predator. the dead do not question the living. mortals do not challenge the gods.’

‘I killed for you. I would have done anything for you.’

‘I have seen the end of things. the shape of the world has changed.’

‘war doesn’t determine who’s right. war determines who remains.’

‘it’s alright. I know what you are.’

‘I thought I was the only one left.’

‘we have developed the power to rewrite the fabric of this world. if we don’t use it, then what’s the point?’

‘I don’t mess with that shit. it screws you up.’

‘I understand the appeal, I really do, but I like having my mind to myself.’

‘he’s a charmer. like a new puppy. you think he’s adorable until he pisses on the furniture.’

‘there’s no routine. no discipline. nothing you’re used to. am I right?’

‘so you’re the last of your kind. that’s sad.’

‘If you hold the fate of the country in your hands, if you have accepted your obligation to your people, then your life ceases to be your own.’

‘____ feared, and so he held you back.’

‘great danger is always associated with great power. the difference between the great and the mediocre is that the great are willing to take that risk.’

‘don’t ever let go on that anger. rage gives you power. caution does not.’

‘don’t give in... you’ve been so brave... but it takes more bravery to resist the power.’

‘the nature of this god is to destroy. the nature of this god is to be greedy, to never be satisfied with what he has consumed.’

‘so. screaming at rocks. is that, like, normal behavior here?’

‘fix this. prove your worth. do your fucking job or get out.’

‘I saved your life. doesn’t that make us at least a little square?!’

‘I was scared of you. and I lashed out.’

‘I thought I was better than you, and I’m not. I’m sorry.’

‘when I killed it, it felt like murder.’

‘look, I’m happy to discuss this, really, but I’m currently leaking life out three different wounds and I think I may pass out. would you give me a moment?’

‘well maybe ____ should get his head out of his ass.’

‘ ____ is more fragile than you think.’

‘look, asshole, I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’

‘they say he can read the future. shatter minds.’

‘you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. I am not your friend.’

‘he’s not human. he—- I don’t know what he is.’

‘but ___ was never allowed to be human.’

‘do you trust me?’ / ‘no. but that’s irrelevant.’

‘you don’t know what true suffering is.’

‘I have seen more than my fair share of suffering.’

‘that boy is beyond redemption. that boy is broken like the rest.’

‘I don’t want to be saved! I want power!’

‘that power will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. you will defeat your enemy, and the victory will turn to ashes in your mouth.’

‘we’ve missed something. something’s been laid out for us, but we can’t see it.’

‘fretting won’t make the dead come back to life.’

‘there was nothing human in those eyes.’

‘It was a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.’

‘I don’t need your pity. I need you to kill them for me.’

‘whatever it takes. swear it on your life. swear it for me.’

‘I won’t judge him. I don’t dare, because I don’t have the right. and neither do you.’

‘you asked me why I wouldn’t stop him. now you understand. you can’t stop an avenger. you can’t reason with a madman.’

‘I am afraid of what he might do in his quest for vengeance. and I am afraid that he is right.’

‘I am about to do something terrible. and you will have a choice.’

‘they give nothing to the universe, and the universe owes them nothing in return.’

‘you cannot survive my death.’

‘you’re trying to deceive me. you don’t get to deceive me.’

‘this is not the way. this path leads only to darkness.’

‘when are you going to stop being such a damn coward? what are you running from?’

‘you will turn the world to ash, and only demons will live in the rubble.’

‘you dress up your crusade with moral arguments, when in truth you would let millions die if it means you get your so-called justice.’

‘you have not cared about anything for a very long time. you are broken.’

‘I am terrified. but only because I’m starting to remember who I once was. don’t go down that path.’

‘your country is ash. you can’t bring it back with blood.’

‘I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you.’

‘you know the worst part? we’re so close to home.’

‘did you miss me? did you miss this?’

‘I just gave him some of his favorite medicine.’

‘resistance here means suffering. there is no escape. no future.’

‘you have nothing to fight for anymore’

‘what are you defending? you owe ____ nothing.’

‘we were disposable. we were tools. tell me that doesn’t make you furious.’

‘I am sick with fury.’

‘I will die on my feet. I will not die a coward. and neither will you.’

‘we could stay here. we could stay here forever. we wouldn’t have to go back.’

‘you’ll have to live with the consequences. but you’re brave ... you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’

‘I have lost everything I care about. I don’t want peace, I want revenge.’

‘I don’t need to sleep. I need to feel nothing.’

‘do you want forgiveness? I can’t give you that.’

‘we avenged him. he’s gone, but avenged.’

‘you have to believe that it was necessary. that it stopped something worse. and even if it wasn’t, it’s the lie we’ll tell ourselves, starting today and every day afterward.’

‘aren’t you supposed to be a seer? do you ever see anything useful?’

‘we have an enemy whom we love.’

‘I’m going to find and kill everyone responsible. you cannot stop me.’

‘oh I’m not going to stop you.’

[serendipityjxmn]

Mr. President

Chapter 20

TW: Explicit violence, mentions of guns, drugs trafficking, gory killing scene

Words Count: 3k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 21

At first, you’re more like a property to him. He learned that the only way he can keep something or someone around for a long time, is if he treats them like a property. Because human’s feelings change, and he needs to protect himself from hurting.

Everything that he’s told you, the reason behind the marriage, the purpose of you are all true.

He needs to marry anyway, as one of the stupid ancient condition his old father has set and he knows his father had set it to make him stay grounded.

He scoffs, wondering why his father doesn’t learn from his past mistakes. And that’s why he’s made a plan on his own, to marry someone without a powerful background, one he can easily dispose when it’s time, one who won’t be a liability to him. A tool.

And now that tool is missing. He pinches his temple, eyes shut close. He’s alone in his office, late at night because he doesn’t sleep well these days.

Since his wife had packed her bags, left him and gone missing.

He sighs thinking about the last argument he had with you. It’s your own fault for building castles in the air and mistaking those as his genuine gesture and fall in love with him. And he realises that because he is not stupid. And during that one night, he sees you, fully sees you and he can’t deny the desire it stirred in his mind. This may be a temporary marriage but it doesn’t mean that he can’t touch you. After all, you are his wife. He knows you are beautiful, he’d known it since the first day because he isn’t blind. Yet he knows he can’t touch you without your consent. Although he did slip up because he tends to lose his vigilance around you. And that’s how he came up with another proposal.

Yet the proposal took a very different turn and became your last straw to leave him.

He couldn’t believe that you’re stupid enough to fall in love with him. Don’t you fear him? You know he’s dangerous yet you still confess your love to him and he doesn’t know whether to worship you at your feet or spanks you for it.

He’s never led you on and has never failed to remind what you are to him, simply an object yet you still fall for him.

He lets out another heavy sigh. Because frankly, he doesn’t know what to do. All of these aren’t supposed to happen and you’re not supposed to love him.

He had put up barriers and boundaries around himself and that’d made it very hard for anyone to simply approach him. People don’t approach him unless they want something from him and he’s well aware of it because he knows how the world works. Not to mention the fact that he’s the leader of the biggest mafia gang, notorious for all sorts of services they offer; machinery, assassinations, bribery, illegal weaponry, drugs trafficking and namely everything else. That had made it a billion times more difficult for anyone to approach or him to let anyone in.

And you’re well aware of it.

But you still fall for him.

He just doesn’t get it; how you’re able to fall for him despite knowing who he is and what he’s capable of.

He scoffs thinking how he could easily kill you. You’re too soft, weak and fragile.

Yet you still fall for him.

Despite knowing how easily he could kill you.

And without asking for anything in return.

And Jimin doesn’t find that believable at all. And at the face of such genuine adoration, he doesn’t know what to do. Because who on earth would be stupid enough to do that?

But you did. You are his stupid wife.

And that makes it even easier to kill you, not just by him. And the thought of anyone laying a finger on you angers him. It makes him want to kill someone. Tear their limbs one by one. Burn them alive. There’s just too many options.

But first he has to find you.

He sighs, for the hundredth time. You’re such a headache.

And that’s when his phone rings. A call from a private number.

“If it isn’t Y/N’s beloved husband..”

Jimin could feel his whole body tensing. “Who are you?”

The person from the other end laughs. “Damn, I need to come find you more often so you’d remember. You beat me into a pulp before.. and now I want leverage. You think you can just take my sister for free?“

Jimin’s hand clamp in a tight fist. “Jay.”

“You remember.. not bad. You see, when you take my little sister, you’ve caused me some complications. You can say she’s my source of income. She’s a pretty slut, no denying that. And I could’ve earned fortunes from selling her off. And you-“

“How much do you want?” Jimin cuts him off.

“Ah.. you’re a smart man.” He laughs before his tone turns serious again. “100 million won would do. For now. And don’t bullshit me saying you don’t have money or whatever. I know you have that much.”

“Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll text you the time and place. And don’t think of calling the police or bring your little friends. I have someone powerful backing me. She’s my little sister, but I’m not gonna hesitate to do anything if you don’t listen to my words. Right, little sister?”

A shrieking scream piercing through the phone is the last thing Jimin hears before Jay hangs up. Jimin’s whole body filled with rage and he grips his phone so tight it almost breaks into two.

“He’s not gonna come...” you slur, your vision not entirely clear and your swollen lips making it hard to enunciate words once Jay finishes his phone call to your husband.

“We’ll see about that bitch. And if he doesn’t.. count your time now..” he says in full malicious tone.

You don’t know how long you’ve been knocked out again but you wake up when you hear commotions.

“And the knight is finally here.” You hear your brother’s voice.

You struggle to focus on your vision. Your whole body freezes when your husband comes into view.

There’s no way Jimin’s here.

Perhaps it’s just a hallucination.

It’s a whole level of pathetic, you think. Because even when you’re in this state, he’s all you could see.

Perhaps you’re really nearing the end of your life, and your mind conjures whatever it desperately wants the most.

“Clara, what the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” The person hisses.

And it’s weird because it’s your husband’s voice.

You blink several times.

And there really is your husband, walking into the warehouse alone. He can’t had possibly willingly walks into a lion’s den alone like that? It’s like a death wish.

Clara turns immediately as soon as she sees Jimin. “Ah.. Jimin.. my Jimin..”

Someone comes and pushes Jimin forward and makes him sit on a chair and tie his hands on his back.

You swallow thickly. You still can’t process the fact that your husband is here.

He finally turns to look at you and he stares at you for several moments, just taking in the sight of battered you covered in bruises and blood and you see the clench in his jaw.

You let out a gasp when the guy standing beside him takes out his gun and points the muzzle on the back of his head. You feel anger bubbling inside you at the sight of it.

Gathering all source of strength, you yell, “Leave my husband out of this Jay!”

Jay quickly steps forward and leaves a stinging slap on your cheek. “If you dare hurt him..” you start and earns another slap from him, making you whimper in pain. You cough several times, your throat feels like burning.

Jimin eyes you furiously. “Keep quiet. Don’t make any sound.” He says, jaw still clenched very tightly. “Clara, what the fuck is this? Why are you here?”

She comes and slowly sits on Jimin’s lap. You notice how he doesn’t flinch away or jerk from her touch. “Baby.. we’ve dealt for years.. good business, good sex. And then you’re suddenly married and you just.. I don’t know, changed?” She says as she runs her fingers across your husband’s cheek.

Jimin just glares at her. “Why did you help him?”

She runs her hand down from his cheeks to his jaw and then settles on his chest, palms flat against them. She shrugs then. “I don’t know.. you know I’m a little crazy. I like having fun. And things.. had been boring. Business is boring, you are boring.. and perhaps I’m trying to put you in place a little, you asshole.” She glares at him.

He gives a very murderous look. “I’m gonna make sure you regret this.”

She leans closer. “Awww shh baby.. I’m not gonna hurt your precious little wife..” and closer. You realize she’s about to kiss him and you hastily look away. You don’t want the last memory you have of your husband before you die is being kissed by another woman. She gets up from his lap, fingers still faintly brushing him everywhere. Then she smirks. “But maybe he will.” She laughs and then exits through the door.

“Did you come with what I ask for?” Jay asks and Jimin juts his chin towards a large black duffel bag on the floor beside him that you hadn’t realized. Jay grins. “Nice doing business with you.. brother in law.”

“Now let us go.” Jimin says.

Jay stops inspecting the money inside the bag and turns to look at him. “No, don’t think it’s that easy..” He signals something and one of his men comes forward. “See, perhaps you don’t really know my sister.. but let me tell you this. She is a fucking whore. And I’m gonna let her be a whore. And you.. you’re going to watch every single men here stick their dick into her pussy.”

Your whole body goes numb as soon as you hear that. Desperately, you glance at your husband. He doesn’t look at you but instead just stares at your brother. You’ve never seen him look so murderous before. Your eyes widen in panic when they pull you from the chair and then roughly push you till you’re kneeling on the floor on all four.

“J-Jimin-” you say, voice thick with desperation.

“Sshh.. shh little sister.. don’t worry.. perhaps your husband might even get hard from this. Don’t you want to please your husband?” Jay smirks.

You feel you eyes start to water when your brain reaches an end and think that there’s no way of escaping this.

He calls one of his men and several others starts to approach as well, all wearing the same look of lust. Jay grabs a handful of your hair and yank it backwards, forcing you to look up. “She’s all yours..”

The nearest guy smirks and licks his lips as he looks at you and starts to strip his pants. You look away immediately. You let out a cry when the guy kneels beside you and yanks your jeans down, exposing your bottom.

“No, no please, please-“ you start to beg and Jimin hisses.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” He grits. “Don’t beg.”

You look at him and find him staring right back at you.

“Just look at me.” He says and fresh set of tears run down your cheeks.

The guy smacks your behind making you cry in pain and you almost collapse to the ground but he holds your waist firmly, groping each side harshly. Then, you feel a hand slides from your shoulder towards your throat and slowly starts choking you.

Your head starts to spin from the lack of air supply and you want to scream so badly but no words could come out. The pressure on your throat is so immense and your lung starts to ache.

Then you see a knife hovering in front of you.

A moment of realization hits you that you’re really about to die and it suddenly makes it so imperative that you tell something to Jimin.

“J-Jimin- I love-“

But before you could finish your words, you hear people bursting the doors open and people in suits come rushing in large quantity.

You try to focus your vision on your husband.

His face is calm. Too calm.

Your sight moves towards the crowd rushing in again and briefly sees Taeseok among them and a rush of relief runs through you. The guy choking you eases his grip on your throat instantly as he gets distracted and you feel like collapsing immediately as you struggle to breath again.

Everything happens so quickly. Someone rushes to your husband’s side and unties him and then he’s beside you instantly while someone else unties you. You try your best to glance behind you and sees Jungkook frantically untying you after fixing your clothes.

“Y/N oh my god-“

Jimin quickly shrugs his coat off his shoulder and immediately covers you. He looks at you as he holds you tight. His embrace is so warm and you just want to close your eyes and lean against him. “Keep your eyes open, we’re getting out of here.” He says roughly.

You’re not entirely sure with your vision but you think someone gives Jimin a gun and he starts shooting at people and you freeze, sounds blaring so loudly in your ear. You let out a strangled scream and you squirm away under his embrace that he looks down immediately. Then he looks at Jungkook.

“Jungkook.” He says and Jungkook nods and you feel yourself slipping out of Jimin’s hold while Jungkook brings you flush against him.

For a moment, there are just sounds of guns, people screaming and punches being thrown.

Jungkook pulls you to the side where it’s safer but you just can’t shut your eyes when there’s too many things going on. You then try to focus on your husband. He’s a good few metres away from you and you couldn’t clearly see the face of the other person but you think Jimin’s holding the guy that was going to rape you just now. And then he shoots him right in the head without thinking. And then another shot right at his chest even though the guy’s already crumbling to the ground, lifeless.

Someone then comes up and thrusts your brother to Jimin, making him kneel in front of your husband. You don’t see it before but you now notice that he’s holding a knife on his right hand. Jay’s expression turns horror as Jimin nears him. And then slowly, your husband carves his face with the knife as your brother’s inhuman shriek fills the warehouse.

Your eyes go wide with horror as you watch the traumatising scene unfolds. You feel a scream bubbling from deep inside your throat yet they’re unable to escape from your lips. Your throat somehow still feels constricted.

“Holy fucking shit.” Jungkook mutters and you realize his grip on your arms tightens.

It’s slowly getting more quiet in the warehouse as most of your brother’s or Clara Kim’s men are now dead as they were hugely outnumbered by Jimin’s people. You then realize that he’s taking his time with your brother.

“What did you say you’re about to do to my wife? Cut out her face?” He chuckles. “Let me show you the real art.”

He leans close.

And then he carves your brother’s right eye out while he shrieks in pain.

“This is for touching my wife.”

And then he carves the other one.

“This is for messing with me.”

The scream finally escapes your lips.

“Fuck-“ Jungkook says and quickly covers your eyes and mouth.

The screaming doesn’t stop for a few more minutes and you think you’ll remember your brother’s inhuman scream till the day you die.

“Jimin stop it. She’s gonna get a trauma.” You hear someone says. Jin..?

You hear footsteps approaching you and then suddenly, Jungkook’s hand is being yanked away and your husband’s face comes into view. His forehead beaded with sweat and his expression furious.

You look at him in horror, frankly still traumatised and terrified at him.

But he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he thrusts a gun into your hand. “Do you want to kill him?”

Your panic immediately and clutched his arm desperately. “No, no please- let’s just go-“

“Ssh.. ssh I’m here.” He takes back the gun. “And we’re gonna get out of here.” He pulls you into his embrace, cocks the gun and fire a shot straight into Jay’s head.

Your entire body freeze. You watch in horror as your brother’s life starts seeping out, his breathing ragged until finally.. it stops.

“Good God- did you really have to shoot him in front of Y/N?” You hear Namjoon says.

“What?” Jimin asks, confused.

“God, you’re so stupid sometimes Park Jimin.” Yoongi says roughly.

Your husband finally turns to look at you and registers the paleness of your face. “Y/N, you okay?” He asks and then makes you stand to your feet. He keeps his hand steady on your waist and you’re thankful because you can’t feel your feet at all.

You don’t know how but from the corner of your eyes, you see someone who’s lying on the floor slowly lifts a gun and your eyes widen when you realize he’s aiming at your husband.

One of Jimin’s bodyguard sees it too and moves to kick the gun away and he did- but not before the guy cocks the gun and all the bodyguard manages to do is change the target, because the bullet hits you instead.

You fell to the ground immediately when the bullet cuts through your shoulder. It’s weird because it hurts so much that you almost feel nothing at all.

Jimin’s eyes widen when he sees you.

For a brief moment, you think you see your whole life flashes by in your mind very quickly.

If you die right now at the hands of your husband.. that you’d fallen in love with.. it doesn’t seem so bad..

You smile.

Then slowly, you bring your hand up to Jimin’s face to touch him one last time.

And then everything blacks out.

A/N: I rarely write post chapter notes because I’m afraid it would destroy your emotions lol but I just wanna thank everyone who had given support since day 1.. the story would not have come this far without the kind words you guys gave me. I feel a little bit emotional because we’re almost more than halfway through with their journey.. haha okay I’ll stop here. see you guys in the next chap! 🥰

Buy me a coffee here! 💜

Link to Chapter 21

Posted on 210516 9:00PM

[bloodycassian]

reader x azriel - prompt: 

What about Azriel angst & fluff with this prompt - “I was only trying to hide my feelings. I thought…if i was an asshole to you, it would help me get over you,”  “Why did you think that would work?”

Sorry this took so long to get to anon! 

He coughed up something wet into his palm, his eyes unable to focus. The alley outside of Ritas was awash with vomit, piss, booze and other fluids he dared not think about. He lurched over and added to the mix.  You found him perched atop the roof vent to Ritas, covered in his own blood and reeking of vomit. You covered your nose dramatically, then felt bad once Azriel gave you that icy stare that made enemies turn and run. He looked like shit.  "Az, come on. I'll get you home." You tried reaching out to him but he slapped your hand away. He said nothing, just rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Go back to your Illyrian brothels." He slurred. His shadows slinked around him slowly, as if they felt the stupor the alcohol brought as well. You rolled your eyes.  "Alright, let's get you up." You reached around him and got him to his feet. He flipped you off before stumbling off the balcony and flapping his wings a bit too late. His toes caught the next roof over. You ran a hand through your hair, debating if you should follow him or not. Rhys would kill you if anything happened to his Spymaster, to your trainer on your watch. You swore under your breath and took off to catch up with him. "You may be the worst spy I've ever heard." He laughed, rolling to his back in the long grass that he decided was a good spot. If you hadn't heard him grumbling to himself you doubted you'd have been able to find him. In the darkness, even with the full moon, he was impossible to see in the night. The shadows shouded him like a blanket.  "I'm not trying to spy right now, I'm trying to keep a drunk Illyrian safe." You said from the rock beside him. You perched there, watching the trees and grass sway in the moonlight. He stood, his wings compensating for his swaying. He would have been on his face if he didnt have them for counterbalance. And if he were human, likely dead with the amount of alcohol in his system.  He scoffed and muttered something unintelligible. Then he was yelling, "I'm your trainer, you listen to me." The wind seemed to carry the words away with them. You ignored him as best you could. The wind picked up, making goosebumps rise on your arms. "I'm the reason Rhys picked you out of all those other bastards at that camp." He pointed at you, and you lost it.  You stood, fighting the hot tears that pricked your eyes. "Fuck you Az, I'm trying to help you." Before he could say anything else to upset you, you took off. Flying high above him. The wind cooled your warm cheeks and you let out a long breath.  When you landed again, he was snoring. You closed your eyes, willing them to not burn if he said anything else. You wondered how you would proceed with training if he was going to act like this never happened. Your heart sank with each passing breath as you tried to rouse him.  He woke only long enough to let you glide him to the rooftop of the townhome. You made him tea on a fire and left, unable to bear seeing him so fallen apart. + You tried not to cry the next morning when you showed up for training. On time, not a second late. Of course, he wasn't there. You feared that he had gone back to Ritas, but he was smarter than to do that. The bar owner would have brought Rhys down to handle him himself.  You brought your bag of extra clothes with you to the town home where he sat just like the night before, staring at the fire. Tin cans of tea lay all around, as if he had been up for hours. He didn't acknowledge you when you landed. Doused with firey anger, you tossed your bag to the ground.  "Just what the hell did I do to make you hate me so much?" You said, voice getting higher as you strained to hold back the tears. The stupid tears you never wanted to let him see.  The rooftop was empty besides the small fire you had made the night before, and the warm canisters of tea that he nursed. The blanket around him made him seem small. The black tunic ruffled around him even smaller. It make your belly rage, knowing that he had acted like such an absolute asshole the night before to wake up looking stupidly innocent.  Those cold eyes met yours, and for once they showed him. The real him, the agony that lay behind them. You felt your heart squeeze. "I never- I didnt mean..." He ran a hand through his hair, tossling it. He took a long breath and held it as long as he could. The burning pain welcome to fight against the anguish in his soul at the sight of hurting you. He let out a long breath when he couldn't hold it any longer. The early morning fog made his it come out like mist, his shadows mixing with it. "I'm sorry." His voice was gavely, he wouldnt' look at you.  "I tried so much." He smirked, a bitter laugh coming through his teeth. You felt the rage run cold at the stark resentment he held on. "I tried every damned thing I could think of to stay away." He shook his head. He casually threw the tin can of tea into the fire pit.  "What are you saying?" You asked tentatively. Your heart drummed in your ears so loudly you weren't sure you could hear him if he answered.  He stood, slowly. Fixed his tunic and held a hand out to you cordially. You eyed it, then him. Wondering if it was a test. He gave you a look and you took it, letting him lead you to the edge of the rooftop that overlooked the city. He gestured to the downtown area where you had followed him from Ritas the night before.  "I was trying to... break myself of you. I was being a total asshole, I agree. But I-" He grumbled to himself slightly, fumbling for words like you'd never seen the spymaster do. "I'm trying to stop being...so attached to you. You..."  "Azriel, you're still drunk...Let's go-" You began, pulling him away from the edge of the rooftop. If he hit his head while you weren't watching last night he could have major issues already. The way his words made your heart leap and soar was an unexpected response. You had eyed him more than other males, yes. But he acted as if he had no desire for you whatsoever in the years you'd known him.  He squeezed your hand and let it go, as if saying goodbye. "You are like...air to me. You're addictive in a way. I don't know what to do about it." The way he looked at you solidified your belief of him in an instant. Those hazel eyes looking into yours with a warmth you'd never seen before. Your heart squeezed, stomach flipping.  You knew your mouth was open in astonishment. But you couldnt pull your thoughts together enough to comprehend if the moment was real or not. You stammered. "I- Azriel..." you tried your best but just ended up taking his hand back in yours.  "You can tell me to fuck off, I dont know if that's going to do anything though." He tried to pull his hand from yours. The siphons on the back of his hands were dully glowing.  You couldn't think of anything besides his soft lips on yours. The way he would believe you if you kissed him. The guilt that roiled there on his face. You hated it. The moment he was pained caused you pain as well, and it was a deep hurt that left you aching. So you fixed it. You kissed him. On the rooftop, in the cold fog with alcohol and tea on your breath. "Being an asshole to me wont make me go away, Az. That'll never work." you winked, resting your forehead on his. His eyes were blown wide in surprise. He hooked a finger under your chin and kissed you feverishly.  "Maybe I should be an asshole to you more then." He laughed when he pulled away, still not letting go of you though. "Definitely not, but-" He laughed loud and it made your heart sing. 

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (14)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: The lyrics of the song your eyes tell by BTS used in this chapter is NOT translated by me. It is composed/covered by  genuis english  translation and Jess A. Please consider listening to their music here. They’re a great singer! A line from Agust D’s 140503 at Dawn is also used in this update.

Warnings: blood, physical violence

***This is a super short chapter. JJK is just reflecting hehe

SERIES: CHAPTER 13 | FINAL CHAPTER

The blood in Jeongguk's lower lip was mocking him—telling him that once again, he fucked up.

Or at least this was what Park Jimin thought.

"So that's it, huh?" Your best friend rarely resort to violence—wait. This was wrong. Violence was never an option for Jimin, but he was making an exception tonight.

"You're just going to give up on her?" The older boy grabbed the collar of your soulmate's shirt.

Jimin was so mad he swore he could beat Jeongguk to a pulp.

How could Jeongguk be this dumb?

Jimin heard your conversation with your soulmate just a few breaths ago. He didn't plan to eavesdrop, it just happened.

Yoongi was the first one to know what happened to you. He was adamant to let you leave a while ago. He just had this weird feeling in his stomach that told him to check up on you.

His nightmare became a reality when he saw Jimin and Taehyung making out on the couch. You weren't with them and it only meant one thing: you left alone.

Yoongi was so mad at himself. He should have called you an uber or he should have driven you to wherever the hell you wanted to go.

This was partly his fault that's why he couldn't help but shudder in fear and regret when one of his staffs told him about what happened to you.

Police officers said you were under the influence of alcohol. Yoongi already knew this, but Taehyung and Jimin were still shocked.

They had no idea you left.

It actually took the three of them a long time to know what had happened to you. By the time they reached the hospital, they were already too late.

Jeongguk managed to make you cry over and over again.

What an asshole.

What kind of soulmate was Jeongguk? Were you really meant to be together? These questions were running inside your best friend's head. It had been answered when Jeongguk suddenly pushed Jimin away.

He wiped the blood in his bottom lip, smirking at his hyung.

"Who said I'm giving up on her?"

Jimin's jaw dropped. Jeongguk’s voice is full of confidence and determination.

"Y-You’re not?"

"No." Your soulmate said firmly. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Not when he was sure about what he felt for you, not when you needed him the most, and definitely not when you were giving up on him.

No. He should fight when you couldn't.

"Good," your best friend released a breath. He hated your soulmate for hurting you, but Jimin also knew that you loved Jeongguk—even if you told him otherwise.

This was the sad thing about the existence of soulmate that Jimin despised. The encouraging reminders like 'You should learn to love yourself,' and 'you don't need your soulmate to be happy,' would not apply.

It helped, yes. But your world was different. It would always feel like a part of you was missing when your soulmate didn’t love you back.

Humans were made to love and to feel loved. This reminded Jimin of the neon signage that's plastered on Genius Lab: I'm the island in this vast ocean, don't abandon me. This was Min Yoongi's idea. The bar owner always told him and everyone (really) that people were like island—they were able to provide—to extend their hands in this cold world.

They should never be abandoned because like any other things, they needed to be taken care of too.

"But what are you planning to do?" Jimin creased his forehead.

Jeongguk didn't even bat an eyelash when you told him to let you go. This was what annoyed Jimin. How could your soulmate be so silent about this? Why did he simply leave when you told him to go?

In Jeongguk's defense, he just didn't want to upset you any longer. He was aware that his presence was stressing you out. You should rest, especially because there's possibility that you might need to undergo an eye surgery.

Jeongguk's heart clenched once again. You were blind and you thought it was because he hated you.

It’s not true and he would change your mind.

"Seriously, Guk?" Taehyung shook his head, scowling. "This is your and my fiancé’s idea?"

"Don't get mad at Jimin-hyung. It's my idea." Jeongguk corrected his best friend. "Your soulmate is just helping me."

It had been days since the accident and you were aware that Jeongguk had been by your side all this time, not really by your side, per se, but he was around. He was patiently waiting outside of your room in this hospital, begging Jimin and your other loved ones to tell him what he could to help.

Today was the only time he left the hospital, as in the same day of your eye surgery.

Jeongguk swore he's not running away this time though. He was actually going to let you know that he would be staying with you. Forever.

"I can't let you do this, Jeon. I'm gonna lose my job if you fuck this one up!" Taehyung groaned.

"Hyung, please. This is really important!" Jeongguk was nervous. He was running out of time. Your surgery was in a few minutes and here he was, invading the studio where Taehyung worked as a DJ.

"This is going to be aired on national radio, Guk. As in the whole South Korea!"

"I know!" Jeongguk's eyes were blown wide. "This is exactly why I want to do this, hyung. I want everyone to know how I feel!"

If you couldn’t see, then maybe you could understand Jeongguk’s feelings by listening. He was willing to explore other senses just to make you believe.

"Fucking sappy!" In the end, Taehyung had no choice but to let his best friend proclaim his love for you.

Jeongguk smiled as he tapped the microphone, softly calling your name.

"It's Jeongguk. I know you don't want to hear from me, but I have something to say." Jeongguk grimaced. He seriously sucked when it came to expressing his emotions through words. "This will be quick, I promise. I just hope Jiminie-hyung is actually helping me out."

"Of course he is!" Taehyung shouted somewhere. Jimin wouldn't dare to ruin this for you. His task was simple anyway. He only needed to make sure that you were listening to the radio a few moments before your eye surgery.

You were nervous. Jimin wanted to help you calm down by making sure that you knew Jeongguk was not going to leave you alone in the cold.

"Anyway I know that I...well...I," your soulmate blushed. How should he describe himself? Was there a word that could emphasize his stupidity?

"I am an idiot." Jeongguk bit the inside of his cheek. This was the only adjective he could think of. "I am the idiot who hurt you and I know, I know...I don’t deserve your forgiveness because of how selfish I was—I mean, am. I still am."

He chuckled nervously. His heart was hammering.

"Call me selfish or whatever you want. I'm sure I deserve it anyway, but yeah...I'll be selfish again if this is the only way to let you know what I really feel about you."

Jeongguk cleared his throat as the beat of the music started to play.

"Why are my eyes filled with tears?” He sang.

This was a song composed by him. Of course he couldn't do this alone. Namjoon was the one who produced the beat of this song. He also helped his brother-in-law to write the lines. Ji-eun's father was a lyrical genius.

"Hey, stay by my side and laugh.” Jeongguk knew he was asking for too much. It was impossible to simply smile and stay with him—not after the hell he had put you through.

"A future without you is a world without color, filled with monochrome coldness." But this was the exact representation of what would happen if you weren't in his life.

Life would literally be black and white. Dull. Jeongguk knew how essential colors were in his life, yet if he was forced to choose between the hues and you, he would choose you in a heartbeat.

"Even the darkness we see is so beautiful. Please believe me."

Darkness was the absence of light. You were Jeongguk’s light. His life would be dark if you were not around.

He also knew you were going through the darkest time of your life, so he wanted this moment to still be beautiful.

He wanted you to believe that every hardship would pay off. You just had to believe.

"Looking only directly at you, so you don't go away"

Jeongguk wrote this line many months ago. It wasn't even meant to be lyrics to a song. These were simply the words he incorporated in his art.

Jeongguk was a soft person. He usually put cheesy captions in his paintings and drawings—the things he usually couldn’t verbalize.

"Whatever lies in the way of you and me. I'll just keep looking at the future of you and I."

It didn't matter that you lost hope. Jeongguk was sure he would make you believe in love again.

"Shadows of the past keep chasing me everywhere I go, and they try to keep ahold of me and till this day they follow me."

He would try to let go of his hurtful past. Those things didn't matter because he could always make good memories with you.

"Even though it seems to be the start of the end I'll call you and shout out your name."

He would be the hope in your relationship. This might be the end for you; however, Jeongguk was just starting.

Starting to accept the soulmate bond.

"I'll become your eyes to the world and for whatever we may face."

Starting to show you how much you meant to him.

He was willing to become your eyes if you didn't recover from this instantly. He would guide you until you could see again.

"One day all of this, this sadness that we share will bring us together."

The sadness would be over soon. You would see again;

Because Jeon Jeongguk was sure. He loved you and...

"Your eyes will tell."

[norcumii]

for the ask meme: Rex/Obi or pairing/characters of choice - Werewolf/vampire AU / Sick/injured / Stranded Due to Inclement Weather / Huddling for warmth

For this trope mashup meme.

This was CLEARLY influenced by seananmcguire's Newsflesh series, which was the last zombie related media I interacted with, and I regret NOTHING.

(Meanwhile, much worldbuilding was done by Dogmatix, who I was foolish enough to let near the plunnies again ^_^)

*****

The problem with zombies, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but muse, was that they stopped thinking. Oh, there was some low-level intelligence left in there, but it was mostly focused on consuming the living. Not tactics, for the most part, not unless the bastards were very fresh or in large enough groups, but that also meant that when some brilliant asshole declared “oh, the zombies wouldn’t/couldn’t ever do that,” no one consulted the zombies.

Thus, an early morning patrol in an area that “never saw more than one or two zombies” turned into a clusterfuck retreat. Though ‘patrol’ was rather a gross overstatement for just the two of them taking an idle walk because some days, Rex was too jittery for sleep and too damn self-sacrificing to admit that he missed early morning runs.

There was always enough fog coming in from the river that they should have been fine.

There also shouldn’t have been an entire pack of at least a dozen, dozen and a half zombies in the area. Where the fuckers had even come from was an unpleasant mystery.

“Rex?” Obi-Wan murmured into the man’s ear. “Are you with me?” he asked as if he couldn’t make out the glacially slow beat of his heart.

Rex groaned, head lolling to nestle further in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. He mumbled something that was probably a curse, which left Obi-Wan in the unenviable position of having to close his eyes and take his own steadying breath. Yes, on the one hand he did have an unfairly attractive boyfriend draped across his lap, straddling his hips and feeling like he was several seconds away from some serious necking.

On the other, they were also treed a good thirty feet above a pack of damned zombies, which had already tried seriously munching on Rex, and ‘necking’ could have serious consequences when one of them was an actual vampire.

Speaking of. Obi-Wan shifted in the cautious little jig in an attempt to nudge Rex more to the left. If he could just free up his arm enough, then he could move around while not tossing them off the tree stand or dislodging the thick emergency poncho that was the only thing keeping Rex from turning into a charred crisp. It was not sized for two, but there hadn’t been time to be more careful and drape it over just Rex instead of just plonking it down over the two of them.

“If you refuse to leave base again without your entire damned armor because of this, I’m going to be very put out,” Obi-Wan informed him, getting another incoherent unhappy noise. The armor was good at keeping the soldiers bite free – not that they needed to worry about the zombification business, but it still hurt them and fed the damn undead. It was also effective at keeping the soldiers touch starved and isolated in ways Obi-Wan had difficulty standing.

Another careful shift, and he could just barely dig out one of the small, squishy packs he kept in his jacket for emergencies.

Since his luck was shit, as soon as he pulled it free, the bastard caught on a loose thread, and with his claws he didn’t dare grab too hard for it, and down it tumbled. One of the zombies lunged, snapping at it, and blood exploded all across the remains of the bastard’s face.

Not being too intelligent, the rest of the pack turned on it immediately. Obi-Wan tried to tune out the disgusting carnage, being much more careful on his second attempt. He didn’t have many packets to spare. This one, he managed to juggle up in front of Rex’s face, jostling it a little. “Here. Drink,” he ordered, hoping that would be sufficient. He hated trying to insert the little sippy straws – Anakin had loved juice pouches back as a child, and they’d had similar fiendish straws. Anakin had learned how to insert the little bastards without a problem, but he always asked Obi-Wan to do it for him – because Obi-Wan had never quite managed to master the process, and Anakin was a damned brat.

Bad enough when it was juice.

One way or another, Rex was conscious enough to shift and bite down on the plastic packet. It was always a wonder to watch the soldiers’ regenerative powers at work. As the level of mostly artificial plasma lowered, color drained back into Rex’s face, the nasty burns along truly unfair cheekbones fading as muscle and skin reknit. He could smell the distressing blood-and-raw-meat stench fading, and only then did he start to relax.

When things had started to go to hell around the globe, the powers that be had huddled together around their failing infrastructure and went looking for fantastical solutions to unnatural problems. Obi-Wan could only imagine the levels of exhaustion and terror that had led someone to the conclusion that vampires might be immune to the infections that spread the zombie virus. The sheer potential of that going horribly wrong was at least one movie franchise long, if not several, yet somehow they’d dedicated enough science to make artificial vampires. Oh, technically it wasn’t vampirism, but ‘drank blood, super fast and strong, sunburn to death within minutes, resting vitals dropping down far enough to pass as dead’ was close enough for everyone but petty bureaucrats and pedantic assholes.

Even at the time, Obi-Wan had cynically noted how that meant both a short leash, and a strong vested interest in keeping as many people from going zombie as possible. He’d also noted the infuriating demographics of those who were selected for and survived the process of becoming vampires.

He tried not to think on that much nowadays, because the heightened blood pressure and carnage bothered Rex.

The packet slurped dry in a way that always raised Obi-Wan’s hackles, then Rex blinked up at him a few times in confusion. “You’re fuzzy,” Rex accused.

“That’s called a beard, dear,” Obi-Wan drawled in his most obnoxious tone, pretending he didn’t also have fur sprouting most places, nor the partial muzzle of a transformation enough to give him speed and jumping ability enough to get to one of the safe perches they’d set up weeks ago.

The Powers That Be might have created vampires, but they had also somehow missed the small but stubborn population of entirely naturally occurring werewolves (and affiliated were-creatures) around the world. Some, like Obi-Wan and his pack, were doing their damndest to both keep a low profile and help the poor bastards trying to protect the last of humanity.

Some, like Obi-Wan, might have become unwisely open to certain non-lycanthropes due to unfortunate feelings – not that Obi-Wan was ever about to complain about that.

Either his sarcastic tone or the guttural noises of thwarted zombies sank in, because Rex stiffened and glared down. “Fuck!” he hissed, thighs clenching in a way that Obi-Wan both very much did and very much did not appreciate. His eyes damn well crossed at the wiggle that followed – he could only guess that Rex was going for a weapon that he didn’t have.

“Stop that!” he snarled, letting the wolf out a little more. He needed the muscle and mass to keep Rex in place, longer paws digging into the tree trunk for a slightly more secure hold that was notgroping his idiot boyfriend.

His idiot boyfriend leveled a flat, unimpressed look at him. “Really?” Rex grumped. His eyes flicked down, then back up. “Right now?”

“So sorry, but some of us don’t need to ingest extra blood to get it up, and under less fraught circumstances this might be my idea of a good time.” He tried for a drawl, but it was much more strained than he meant. Oh well, it wasn’t like Rex didn’t know he could be ridiculous. And it really wasn’t intentional.

“Less fraught meaning less zombies?”

“And less daylight.” Obi-Wan didn’t mean for his tone to turn sharp, either, but it did even as he very carefully wrapped his arms tighter around Rex. He made certain not to disturb the poncho, but he, at least, wanted the reassurance. He still wasn’t over the terror of having to go mostly wolf to grab Rex from the pack he was trying to slow down, nor the horror of slinging him over a shoulder to go pelting through the trees. Madcap desperation to find a tree stand before a foggy dawn was not his idea of fun. “Your life is worth a hell of a lot more than an inconvenient hard on.”

Rex huffed a laugh, leaning in to rest his cheek against Obi-Wan’s. “Stop being charming.”

“I’m afraid that’s going to happen approximately never. So sorry.”

For a moment, it was just them – two idiots cuddled together, healthy and alive on a genuinely beautiful, bright Spring morning.

Then a terrible gurgling noise broke the moment, and Rex glanced down at the pack still mingling around the tree, groaning their displeasure at not remembering how to climb. “Was that a zombie?” he asked, as if he damn well didn’t know the truth.

“Shapeshifting burns calories,” Obi-Wan reminded him primly. “As does marathon sprints lugging around idiots like potato sacks.”

“That explains the bruises on my stomach,” he muttered, shifting about to rummage in one of Obi-Wan’s pockets. “Jerky?”

“Please.” All in all, now that matters were calmer, Obi-Wan almost hoped that a rescue would take its sweet time. This was almost nice – all things considered.

~end

[gummy-friend]

An AU where Wilbur and Techno are borrowers in Phil and Tommy's house

Masterlist • Next chapter

Chapter 7

Cw: language

—————

Wilbur ran

The tile has gone loose, and it revealed one of him and Techno's smaller storage rooms along with him to the human.

Wilbur ran. He ran as fast as he can, heading towards the path to their smaller corridors, because Wilbur can't be too certain if the human's hand can't fit in the storage room

"Wait!" The human exclaimed. All too familiar. This feels like a deja-vu, the only difference is the location and the volume of the human's voice. Wilbur sprinted through it all.

"I'll give back your notebook!" The human called out. Just as when Wilbur was about to enter the corridor, Wilbur stopped, feeling intrigued, but doesn't turn around. Because why the fuck is the human going to give the book now? It's a bait. It has to be

"Here— wait a sec" and Wilbur was about to leave, not even bothered to wait for the human. But was proven to be unachievable, as the human really took seconds— Wilbur's pretty sure it's a two seconds interval, even. "Your book." the human's voice behind him echoed, and Wilbur turned around. And he quickly regrets doing so.

The sight terrifies him. The fairly-small opening(from the human's perspective) acted as a frame for the human's massive hand— the sight alone made Wilbur gave his past self internal claps for not freaking out when working with Phil— and his notebook is right outside of the opening. Meaning he have to be exposed to the human. He repressed a shudder from the thought alone.

Wilbur took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down. His voice shouldn't be shaky, he shouldn't look scared "Put the book in the opening!" He yelled out.

"Well, no" the human replied lightly.

"Why?" why not? just slide the fucking thing in he adds internally

"We made a deal, big man" The human answered, and Wilbur doesn't know if the "big man" phrase was used to mock him or not "Either you come reveal yourself and ask for the book yourself, or you answer my question." the human started "And since you've technically revealed yourself, all you gotta do is take the book yourself"

Well that's fucking stupid.

"A deal is a deal, and I won't try to hurt you or some shit, don't worry" the human's hands shifted, now not visible through the opening. And Wilbur honestly don't know if that's a good or bad thing— because he doesn't feel all that anxious anymore now the hands are out of the way. But that also mean he doesn't know where the hands are. For all he know the human's hand may be above the opening, preparing to catch him.

"So are you coming out or no? If not, I'll take the book, you know" the human's voice echoed, maybe impatient maybe curious, Wilbur doesn't want to fucking know.

But he do know that he doesn't have any fucking choice, does he?

With a "Fuck it" grumbled in his mouth, Wilbur stomped through the entire room. And when he reached the opening, he instictively gulped. because damn looking up was not a good idea

This is the second time Wilbur had been so close to a human in his life— the first one being Phil— but that time was different, Phil is nice. This is the second time Wilbur had been so close to a human, and looking at the practically wall in front of him, Wilbur froze.

The human literally towers over him. Not to mention even the human's hands— that is right beside the opening's exit on both sides— that can oh so easily trap him in their grasps... Wilbur unconsciously shuddered at that thought.

The previous annoyance gone, Wilbur meekly stepped out of the shade that the wall gave him, and damn that felt fucking weird. His body was exposed to the air and the human's gaze, and even though Wilbur did not dare to look up at the human's face, he can feel the human's anticipation and excitement when he sees him. Oh fuck it felt weird.

Wilbur snapped out of his thought— damn he froze multiple times today, fuckin' hell— and continued walking, with each steps placed carefully— like there's some sort of trap will set off if he walked the wrong way.

When Wilbur reached the book, he tried stopping himself from looking up, but he failed. Wilbur was expecting to see a face of annoyance— maybe even a bored or a smug look— but to Wilbur's surprise he's looking at a face of awe from a smiling human Wilbur thought he had seen sparkles in the human's eyes. That was a weird feeling, by the way, being stared at so intently. Besides that, Wilbur also looked at the human's hands beside him, and they both remained unmoving— just like when he was walking towards the book.

Huh. He stuck to his words.

This is the second time Wilbur had looked at a human's face from up close, and both times are a really contradicting experience from the stories he had been told.

The stories he had read and told tells him humans are cruel— they will not help those who are different from them. The stories he had read and told tells him that humans are liars— lying in the way that will hurt others for their own sake. And the stories Wilbur had read and told tells him that if he was found by a human, he will not escape.

But here he is. Free after getting found and being helped by a human, and before him a human who stuck to his words stands tall.

So Wilbur asked.

"Are you nice?"

ｏｏｏ

If Tommy was asked if he's nice, he'll answer that of course he fucking is. He thinks everyone will answer that too. Because who the fuck thinks they're a bad person?

But being asked that out loud and in that careful and scared tone, Tommy finds himself wondering about it. Is he nice?

Well now he doesn't fucking know that himself

And so Tommy sat down— ignoring how the tiny immensely flinched— finally having to look at the tiny without looking down, "I dunno, big man. Am I?" he breathed out. Feeling more... concerned than anything, really. To which the tiny responds with a dumbfounded look. "Do you think I'm nice?"

For a few seconds, both Tommy and the tiny held a staring contest. Not knowing what to say themselves— the tiny looked deep in thought though.

"I do." The tiny finally said, breaking up both the silence and the staring contest. Tommy blinked. "You stayed true to your words, and you haven't done anything bad yet to me. So I think you're nice"

"Well that answers that, innit?" Tommy sighed. The tiny looked at him with a new type of realization. Like Tommy just said the most useful knowledge there is to mankind. "I think I'm a fucking nice person, sure, but if the person who asked doesn't fucking think so, then I'll just look like a shit person"

"O-Oh.." The tiny said, letting his voice waver rather than the strained bravery Tommy had heard earlier. "So you're not going to hurt..." the tiny paused "Us. You're not going to hurt us, right?"

"Well, yea" Tommy said, noticing the drooping shoulders from the tiny "Unless the two of you are assholes." Tommy supplied. Receiving a slight shock and a laugh from the tiny. Similar to the one that revealed the tiny. "I'm Tommy." He said, holding out his hands for a handshake— or a finger-hand-shake— to the tiny.

"I—" The tiny cuts himself, taking a step back from the hand, hesitating.

"You don't have to tell me your name, I just think that it'd be a nice time to introduce myself" Tommy added, noticing the pale look from the tiny. Tommy still held his hand to him, though.

"...Wilbur" He finishes, taking a deep breath as he accept the finger-hand-shake.

Tiny hands shook againts massive finger, and Tommy smiled

"Already knew your name though" The tiny— Wilbur adds, grinning.

"Okay dickhead."

They both laughed.

[mrspanky]

I'm not really sure how long these are meant to be. "Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma".

Trauma Bonding, (a Jason Todd x Reader)

Warnings: Language.

Genre: Fluff/angst/comedy/romance

Authors note: This prompt is perfect, thank you @aethers-stuff ! Sorry it took me so long to write! I hope you like it. ♡(: _______________________________________________

Dick watched you two from the kitchen.

Jason was seated on one end of his livingroom couch and you on the other. You were talking loudly, gesturing with your hands so much that you looked like Italians at a family gathering. You were both exceptionally expressive and extroverted people on your own, so when you got together, the room's volume was always raised a noticeable few notches.

It was endearing, but a real headache when it went on for too long.

Dick massaged his temple. An extrovert himself, he felt the need to jump into the conversation, but he knew better. You and Jason would simply not shut up long enough for him to get a word in when you were both really on a roll, and Dick didn't feel like expelling that much energy. Plus, he was curious to see where this would end.

“...That’s ridiculous Jason”.

You crossed your arms.

“There is no way in hell you're dying your white streak black.”

He raised his hand from the couch armrest in exasperation.

“I wasn't even asking you.”

You arched an eyebrow.

“You should've been. The white streak stays. It's your trademark. If you're concerned about me being right, I dare you to ask everyone to vote.”

“Hon, I am not in the practice of asking people if I can or can't do things.”

“Luckily, you never ask me my opinion so you don't have to worry about breaking your pattern just yet.”

“...You never keep it to yourself, so why would I even bother”.

Dick shook his head. You were like an old, emotionally constipated couple and it was amusing to observe.

“Just kiss already”, he said under his breath.

You turned your head towards the kitchen, hearing him faintly, but almost unintelligibly.

“Dick, did you say something? Sorry, we're arguing here, I hope we're not too obnoxious”.

“Hey don’t throw me under the bus with you, I was just trying to have a moment of quiet meaningless thought when you started playing hair cop,” Jason quipped.

“Hush.”

“Right back at you”.

“-Both of you shut up for a minute. I didn't say anything”.

Dick rolled his eyes.

“However, we do have patrol in an hour, and Bruce sent me some weird instructions.”

“Weird how?”

You tilted your head in curiosity.

Jason glanced at you, and huffed a little. He couldn't help himself. Despite himself, he found you really endearing. Especially in moments like this when your lips were pouted in confusion and....”.

Dick snapped Jason out of his brain fog.

“Jay. Buddy. Try to pay attention.”

“Wasn't not doing that,” he grumbled.

“Then what did I just say.”

The two brothers shared a childish battle of glares.

“...fine, you made your point. I was dreaming about this whisky I saw in the manor the other day”, he lied.

“Ok. Very in character, Jason. Now, the mission is-”

“...looked decadent. It was really old and had this fancy label on it that-”

“...Guys. I can hear you from the other room”, Tim walked in looking miffed.

There was a pause as all three of the human boom-boxes stared blankly at the intruder.

“...you’re a detective, Tim”, Jason deadpanned.

“Ugh, Jason...that’s not the... just shut up.”

Tim pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“Did you all get the mission briefing?”

“Somehow, Jason didn't”, Dick fumed.

“Alright, fine. Basically, Jason, you, and Y/n are staying back tonight because you're the only ones who haven't been seen yet in the city, and Bruce wants to save you guys for an undercover mission next week”.

“What?!”

You both looked at each other in disgust.

“I'm not working for the bat anymore!”

“Yeah, and I've never even started to work for him! He can't just expect us to be at his disposal and then bench us!”

“Guys, relax. He's just doing this so you can have a better element of surprise later. You're both really valuable, ” Dick reasoned.

You and Jason paused, your egos begrudgingly satisfied.

“...fine”.

“Fine”.

“Good. Ok. So everyone suit up”, the oldest brother concluded.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jason was irritated.

He found you interesting. Really interesting. Usually, he dealt with his fear of vulnerability by acting too unbothered to care, but you intrigued him so much that he struggled to keep his mouth shut around you. He was afraid to get too close to you; he would lose you eventually like everyone else.

But, he knew so little about you, despite all of the banter. A talent you both possessed, was chattering without disclosing any actual information. You had only met each other two months ago, and usually it would take both of you longer to warm up to a new person, but there was just a feeling. You were kindred spirits. He wanted to learn more about you, despite himself.

“So what brought you here”.

“Here as in what brought me to dress up and punch criminals as a nightly routine, or as in what brought me to be in an alliance with Bruce Wayne that I'm now regretting?”

There it was. Those were the kind of responses that made Jason feel just enough on his toes to be uncharacteristically comfortable with you.

“Take your pick I guess.”

“Bruce Wayne it is then. I'm not really a fan of my life story”.

“Ttt, ” Jason laughed, taking a page from his youngest brother’s book.

“I'm kind of an accidental friend of Dick’s. We met first at the Bludhaven police station, I was there for...pfft...I was just there, ” You paused with a laugh.

“He helped me out, and we didn't see each other again until he ended up working with me anonymously for info on a case as Nightwing years later. We both just figured out each other's identities and he brought me on a mission once where I met Bruce. And Bruce is a convincing prick so now here I am, somehow under his command”.

“Sounds about right. So when do we kiss?”

Great. Now he sounded like an asshole.

Jason looked at you, gauging to see what your reaction would be. He’d half said that last part by accident, but now that he’d acted out of impulse he knew he couldn’t take it back.

“-What?”

“When do we kiss? You heard Dick”.

He was really committing to his blunder now.

“Yes, and I ignored him and smoothly got him to change the subject. Besides. You're not my type”, you lied.

Jason was in fact, exactly your type.

“What is your type?”

“Shit”, you thought.

“Hmm. I like people who I can chase that don't actually like me, and then I eventually get to give up. It makes it easier”.

You admitted this in a tongue-in-cheek manner, but you weren't really kidding. Something about Jason’s persistence made you want to open up, despite your usual habitual wall-building.

“You're like a fucking mirror; you know that?” Jason laughed.

He knew you weren’t kidding because he’d said things along those lines millions of times.

“Your point, Mr. Therapist? People hurt people. I kind of prefer to enjoy relationships from a distance at best”.

“Right, I'm pretty sure that's called trauma”.

“Call it what you will, but it's a good way of not getting even more mentally busted up than an already fucked vigilante”, you grinned.

“Nice.” he smirked.

“You sound as dumb as me”.

“That’s a little low don’t you think? I’m only half as dumb as you at most, but yeah. Fine. We share some things”.

“What’s that supposed to mean Princess,” he smiled.

He felt himself get exited a little. What you had just said made it sound like you felt you two were similar just as he did.

“That I think we’re both stupid people that have really stubborn hearts that get us into trouble”.

Your heart was beating so fast. You hadn’t meant to say that much.

“Now who’s the therapist”, he said in a low voice.

He leaned in closer to you a little, testing the waters to see if you were just being a little cautious, or if you actually weren’t comfortable. He felt like you were just being scared like he always was deep down, but he didn’t want to push you if it was only going to cause you both more pain.

He was a little scared too. You scared him. Not just because you were powerful and beautiful, but because he actually liked you. He wasn’t used to that. But he knew himself, and when Jason Todd does something, he can’t do it half way. If you were in this too, he knew he’d do anything for you, and that was terrifyingly vulnerable.

As he leaned in, your breath caught.

“Fuck”, you thought.

His eyes were stunning.

You hadn’t let yourself notice how much until now.

“Jason…”

“...Todd why are you about to taint Y/n”.

Jason spun around.

“Damian!” you yelled.

The small Wayne was standing in the doorway.

“Shortstack, you are too young to be using a fancy word like taint”, Jason recovered.

Tim and Dick emerged behind Damian in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Tim asked.

“Todd was just about to be disgusting with Y/n in front of all of us”, Damian smirked, crossing his arms.

He knew he just set up Dick to take a fit.

The oldest brother was not pleased.

“Jason, really? Damian is right here and you didn’t think to chill?”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“We didn’t do anything Dicky. The kid here is being a drama queen. The only thing he walked in on us doing was some good old fashioned arguing”.

Jason knew he was making himself look like a major...well...dick, but he knew you wouldn’t want to commit to the family knowing about anything that might be going on between you two, however small just yet.

Dick rolled his eyes, and the three brothers walked in the doorway and into the kitchen to get water. You and Jason were always an entertaining spectacle for sure, but patrol was tiring, and they all needed to cool down.

Jason looked back to you. You were looking at your feet with your arms crossed and a barely contained smile on your face.

“The kid has good timing,” he huffed with a laugh.

“Oh fantastic”, you gazed at him, laughing back quietly.

“So, you want to talk some more about trauma?” He asked in a playful, but matter of fact tone.

“Maybe sometime, Red,” you smiled.

You turned and walked away.

“She’s gonna make me work for this”, he thought.

It had been so long since either of you had met your match, and you both were going to thoroughly enjoy this.

[nukacoola]

Companions react to Danse stepping out of power armor for the first time!

Cait: 

She would look Danse up and down very obviously and grin which would make him extremely uncomfortable. 

“Ya’outgha get out of that thing more often Dansey. Who knew there were cookies in that tin can of yours.”

She obviously isn’t actually interested in Danse. Way too boring. But she’s not one to toss out eye candy just cause it isn’t her favorite flavor. She wouldn’t actively follow him but for fun and also to get on his nerves she would definitely cat-call him everytime he was in hearing range. Deacon and Hancock might join in for a few comments if they don’t have anything better to do.

She would not stop unless sole made a convincing plea or reason for why she should and maybe not even then.

Danse would not respond or look at Cait but he would be very red and never get out of his suit in front of her again.

Codsworth: 

“Why Paladin Danse I dare say you’ve been keeping up your workout routine! Cheers to your excellent health whether in or out of your power armor!” Codsworth is reassured that his owner is traveling with someone so equipped for the struggles of the wasteland.

“Uh, thank you, Codsworth.” Danse would feel a bit awkward but he would appreciate the compliment. 

“Might I polish that for you while you're otherwise engaged? It seems to be in a just dreadful state and I would like nothing more than for you to be looking your best in your wasteland escapades!” Though he is reassured by Danse’s physical state and abilities, he is mortified by the state his armor is in. All the scratches, dings, and dirt? It’s just horrible. Codsworth has always wanted an opportunity to fix that suit up and is pretty happy that the day has finally arrived.

“I- If you’d like to you can.”

“Oh good! I do so love a difficult task!” With that Codsworth would zoom away to procure the necessary supplies to return Danse’s armor to it’s original state. Danse didn’t really know whether or not he should be offended at the robot’s comments but he decided to just continue about his business and not think about it too much. 

Curie:

“Oh Monsieur Danse, you are quite zee lovely specimen! I would be eager to do a physical examination if you would allow me to.” Ever since leaving the vault, Curie has been astounded at how many different sorts of humans there are. Danse is particularly interesting to her because of the amazing athletic feats he does so regularly. She is also interested in studying the effects of constant power armor usage on the human body. When she sees him step out of his suit for the first time and sees his overly muscular physique, it just tacks on another reason she wants to study him. 

Before Blind Betrayal:

“The only specimen that needs examining is you, synth. Don’t talk to me unless you’re submitting yourself to the Brotherhood.” The only reason Curie isn’t already on the Prydwen is because Sole thinks it’s their friend. It bothers Danse immensely that Sole hasn’t destroyed or used this inhuman thing already.

(Don’t get mad at me he literally says this in game.)

Curie is very hurt, she expected this reaction but it still hurt. She was still getting used to feelings such as the pained ones she felt in moments like these.

After Blind Betrayal:

“No. Thank you.” Danse’s words were strained. Being around Curie was pretty awful for him. He had treated her so terribly before and he still had strong feelings of disgust towards her despite what he knows now. Everytime he sees her and has those feelings of hate and disgust, he remembers that he and Curie are the same. He’s still struggling to overcome the years of propaganda that were drilled into him. 

Curie is disappointed. Did Danse not see they are the same? If he didn’t believe in her humanity then he would have to not believe in his own. It is very confusing for Curie. She hopes that he will eventually go back on his denial of her offer. He would be a very interesting specimen.

Deacon:

He would be surprised that Danse would be able to wear that clunky thing so much in the first place. He wouldn’t be surprised at how muscular he is under the suit though. It takes a lot of strength to operate those suits. He’d read that before they were fully developed, a lot of trial runs had resulted in really terrible accidents. The kind of accidents that crush all of your bones at once or remove your top half from your bottom.

Deacon would definitely make a few jokes. “Hey the sardine’s outta the can!” “Isn’t getting out of that bulldozer against Brotherhood policy or something?” “And I thought it was glued on! Learn something new everyday.”

Danse would scowl at his comments but say nothing. He did not like Deacon one bit. That man’s hiding something and if it turns out what he’s hiding will harm Sole or the Brotherhood’s mission, there was gonna be hell to pay. Danse could’ve sworn he’d seen him on the Prydwen a few times but whenever he looked back again to check, he was gone. Danse didn’t much like the idea of leaving his power armor alone with Deacon around but Sole assured him he’s harmless. We’ll see...

Whenever Danse returned to his suit Deacon would stand suspiciously close to it and act like he was trying to play cool after almost being caught doing something nefarious. He would never get tired of watching Danse carefully inspect every part of the armor before apprehensively getting in. Man that guy’s fun to mess with.

Dogmeat: 

He was so surprised! He thought this human was just made of metal! But now Dogmeat can play and jump and lick! Yes!!

Danse has no idea how to deal with a dog he wasn’t allowed to kick so he would just try to awkwardly push the pup off until Sole took care of it.

Hancock: 

Oh HELL YES! Hancock has wanted to punch this fucker since he first laid eyes on him. “HEY SOLDIER BOY, TIME TO SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO OUT OF YOUR DAMN COWARD COFFIN!” He would make a beeline towards the paladin and the paladin would speed walk towards the ghoul as well. Sole barely let him insult the damn freak but this was a direct attack of which he was most definitely gonna defend himself from.

Sole would freak out a bit and try to get in between the two. They would both try to get Sole out of the way so they could pummel each other. A brief alliance in order to facilitate their battle. This was too sweet of an opportunity to miss. 

“Sorry Sunshine, this is happening.”

“Sole, it has directly started an altercation with me and I intend to see it through.”

If they both had a great relationship with Sole after a bit of panicked begging to both parties, the men would begrudgingly back off. They would, however, insult each other viciously despite Sole’s protests. 

“You have no fucking idea how lucky you are meathead. I swear to god if they weren’t here…”

“You call me a meathead but you’re the one who’s rotting, ghoul.”

They would continue to jab each other until Sole dragged Danse off to do what he got out of his suit to do in the first place. 

If one or both of them didn’t have a close relationship with Sole, well, it wouldn’t be pretty. They would forcibly move Sole out of the way and fight for a while. Though Danse is much bigger than Hancock, Hancock is quicker and better at hand to hand. Danse, being unused to fighting outside of his armor, was ultimately unable to beat the ghoul. Hancock landed one final blow to his face, knocking Danse flat. When he stayed down Hancock laughed loudly and spit at him.

“Done in by the best, lucky you.” It would be a huge blow to Danse’s ego and he’d resent Hancock even more now. Hancock would gloat constantly when Danse was around. “Heyyy, there’s my favorite punching bag!” “Come on over Dansey I won’t bite!” He wouldn’t out of shame, but if Danse ever did try to retort, Hancock would just taunt him. Saying something like “Oh yeah? Ya know my favorite way to settle conflicts is by beating the other asshole into the dirt. Hop outta that suit and we can go for round two.”

MacCready:

Mac’s always thought of Danse as an annoying asshole. He still thinks of him this way but when he stepped out of that armor for the first time. Ho lee sh-crap. MacCready might have to look into joining the Brotherhood if the rest of those guys looked the same as Danse. He had expected him to be strong cause of the whole carrying 500 pounds of steel everywhere but his body was something Mac was not expecting and something he could look at for a while. 

If Danse came near the merc he would probably clam up and blush a bit. If Danse caught him staring, he would annoyedly ask, “Is there a problem, civilian?”

“I- uh no.” any other day he would’ve fired back some snide remark but he couldn’t quite seem to think of one right now. 

Nick:

Nick really couldn’t give less of a damn. He hated Danse, Danse hated him, and the two did their best to ignore each other. 

Piper: Piper didn’t really care either. Sure he was muscular but she was very turned off by the everything else about him. All she really payed attention to was the possibility of an exclusive interview or an inside look at the Brotherhood’s workings. Danse would never agree to either of those though. Preston: Preston didn’t care. He already knew you had to be strong to wear power armor especially if you wore them as much as Brotherhood Paladins did. He didn’t like the Brotherhood and by extension, he didn’t trust Danse. Preston was mannerly of course, for Sole, but he knows Danse thinks very little of the Minutemen so he didn’t try too hard to be kind. Strong: Strong thinks this is good time to smash strong human. He has killed many brothers but he wears metal suit. He is weak without metal suit. Human friend tells Strong that if Strong smash, Strong will not find milk of human kindness. Strong angry, Strong want to smash, but Strong not smash.

Danse would never get out of his suit near Strong unless he absolutely had to. Sole insisted that the abomination wasn’t going to be a problem but he didn’t believe it for a second. It took all of his willpower to not open fire on the thing whenever he saw it. Sole has poor taste in companions...

X6:

X6 wouldn’t care. He would consider taking this opportunity to get rid of the high ranking Brotherhood soldier, but it would make Sole upset and would do relatively little to the Brotherhood as a whole. 

Ask and ye shall recieve! I decide the winner on Hancock’s one by their special stats. How the hell does Hancock have such good stats and he’s still terrible in a fight??

[lady-z-writes]

Plaything (Heisenberg x fem!reader)

Chapter 5 (of 5)

Summary: Reader works for BSAA and is scoping out the village until you get captured by none other than Heisenberg who doesn’t take well to trespassers. Once he learns of your hatred for your job, he wants the information you have and he doesn’t have to try hard to get it. You find yourself drinking, fireside, with him and can’t help but let him touch you. Angie said he’d needed a plaything and, well, you’re it.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Final chapter below the cut:

The paranoia sets in after his ‘sister’ leaves. Heisenberg sends the Haulers to scope out the lower structures of the factory. Alcina is irksome, true enough, but her senses are pretty keen and he’s been up all night after you fell asleep – sans the chains. He’s not a monster.

The thought of a rat in his factory without him even knowing…it pushes him to a boiling point. Maybe that gargantuan with the sombrero is playing him as a fool, but he can’t take a chance.

He gets no work done, just paces back and forth in his makeshift office, focusing on all the bad that could potentially come his way with talk of your survival getting out.

She’ll kill you. He knows it; saw something similar happen with a villager Bela brought home. Apparently, Alcina’s the only one who’s allowed servants.

Who is he fooling? He knows the difference. The few survivors at House Dimitrescu are rotated through. And they’re for the sole purpose of eating. What Miranda saw in Bela’s beau was different – she could call it in an instant: attraction, temptation, hope. Hope for a different life; for something other than this village.

Anything that distracts from Miranda’s plan needs immediate attention. He’s sure she’ll be visiting within the day.

Heisenberg lets his anger out as he shoots a slew of knives at the wall.

And then he hears it.

The screeching from below.

They found something.

Heisenberg hasn’t hurried that quickly in ages – the winded feeling aching his lungs.

Sure enough, following the stream to the sub-basement, he hears the gunshots, spots the scene: a man taking out his Haulers, but more replacing them due to the noise.

Heisenberg shoves a metal pole in the man’s direction, knocking him down in one swoop. A snap of his fingers and the Haulers retreat.

“And who might you be?” he drones on as the man groans, trying to pull himself to his feet. “Not a talker, huh? That’s okay. I’ll put the pieces together for you: you’re part of the agents. You, somehow, survived and now you think you can just hide out here until your little helicopter picks you back up and takes you home to your comfy bed.” The man stands now, eyes glancing at the gun he’d dropped to his left. “Ah, ah. Bad choice.” They’re at a standstill. “Listen, I’m entertained, truly, it’s just getting dull so…” he shifts his hammer over his shoulder.

“You have her, don’t you?” the man speaks evenly.

Heisenberg narrows his eyes. “Have who?”

“[Y/N].” He dares to step closer. “I heard her in there. You have her.”

Heisenberg smirks. “Ah, you heard us, huh? Would it interest you to know just what those screams were really about?”

The man picks up on his innuendo. “You’re lying.”

“See for yourself.” Heisenberg purses his lips. “Friend of hers?” he’s met with silence. “Well, clearly a reunion is in order.” He swipes and forces metal to mold around the man’s hands, shackling him before he pushes him toward the staircase.

It takes a while, but he manages to shove the intruder all the way back to his quarters, where he knew you’d still be.

You’re still wearing his shirt, looking like a vision, when he forces the man into his quarters – flat on his face.

“Ohh, [Y/N]…” he speaks in a singsong voice.

You open your eyes, a slight smirk on your face before you stretch out under his bedsheets and look in his direction.

Within seconds, you’re bolting up in bed. The look you’re sending him is hard to read. The initial shock sets in and then there’s recognition…hurt?

“Chris?”

“Oh, fuck, [Y/N]…” he struggles to get up, but Heisenberg flicks his wrist and the cuffs tighten. Chris groans out.

“Touching. Truly touching. Now, I told ya you’d get to see her…” he points in her direction. “See?”

“You asshole,” Chris cusses.

“Time to die!” Heisenberg raises a gloved fist and calls all the metal items in the room.

“No, stop!” you’re rushing toward Heisenberg, his shirt billowing around your naked nether regions. You grip his wrist and put yourself between the two men. “Please, Karl, no.”

Heisenberg raises an eyebrow. “What does this whelp mean to you?”

“It’s…complicated.”

Heisenberg glances between the two of you, really takes in the expression on Chris’ face.

“Ah, so you two used to fuck then, is that it?” Heisenberg hums.

“[Y/N], get away from him,” Chris warns from on the floor, clearly irate at the current discussion. Heisenberg laughs.

“Chris, you don’t understand. He’s…” you sigh, unable to put it into words. “He’s not what you think. He’s not like you think.”

And it’s true. Though you’ve seen the bad parts of him, you’ve seen his humanity still. You’ve seen the hurt parts of him, the irreparable parts that Miranda damaged.

Heisenberg lowers his hand at this and the metals go clanging to the ground. His mouth is a hard line, but his eyes show so much emotion. You’re reminded of the soft moment he shared last night before treating you to several orgasms.

“You’ve got two minutes to convince me not to kill him.”

“He got out!” you yell, tears in your eyes. “He’s proof, Karl. He got out. BSAA. All of this…he’s proof that I can do it.”

The conversation from the other night comes to mind and Heisenberg hums.

“You could get her out of this?” Heisenberg’s voice is level now as he asks Chris.

“Y-yeah…yes?” Chris, clearly confused, struggles to stand with his hands cuffed in front of him. “Why, do you…?”

Heisenberg narrows his eyes, stares at the ground. When he exhales out of his nose, you glance his way.

“Well,” he lights a cigar, puffs on it a few times before speaking again. “Looks like you’ve got lots to discuss.”

And just like that, he’s snapped the cuffs off Chris and is sauntering out of the room. You follow after him, but he pushes you against the wall with one hand against your neck.

“Karl…” you practically sob.

He doesn’t look at you. “Look, you got an out, you take it.” He exhales again, speaks barely at a whisper, “If I’d had an out…” he lets that sentence trail off.

“But, Karl, what about-”

“Miranda’s already aware of your presence in my factory – guaranteed. We’ve got my fucked up family to thank for that. If I know Miranda – and I do… - she’ll come sniffing around soon…” his thumb rubs along your neck. You’ve never seen him look so serious when he says, “I can’t let her know about my plans, [Y/N].”

And he lets you go. When your feet plant back on the ground, you hear Chris stumble through the doorway as Heisenberg saunters down the hall. You know he’s made up his mind. And wasn’t it a pipedream anyway, staying here with him?

Tears prickle in your eyes.

Chris rushes to your side, watches the scene before him. You can tell he’s ready to go after Heisenberg, but you put a hand on his chest in hopes you’ll stop him. The defeated feeling is overwhelming.

“[Y/N], leave it to you to get wrapped up in all of this,” Chris mumbles.

Your fingers are busy playing with the hem of the shirt Karl gave you. “Yeah…leave it to me.”

“C’mon, let’s get you dressed.”

•••

You were never good at leaving, never good at goodbyes, and this is no different.

It’s not like you had things to pack, you’d been here for a total of a few days and as you think about it, you realize how crazy this seems: to get this head-over-heels in a matter of a few days.

But you’d like to think you understand each other.

And he trusted you, let you into his headspace for those few days.

You convince Chris to give you five minutes before you leave. It’s…awkward between you. There were several occasions in your history where you indulged in each other out of pure convenience. Late nights after work, early mornings before, missions if you could ever sneak away…neither of you could hold down a steady relationship with work so you just made the best of it.

Things got complicated between the two of you – things are always complicated with Chris – but you never expected him to be here. You hadn’t heard about the Hound Wolf Squad, but it sort of gave you hope that there could be a version of you that gets out of these missions, this life.

Heisenberg is in one of his many offices when you finally find him – there are three main ones and you never know where he’ll be. He’s tinkering with something, but you can see his mind is elsewhere. He doesn’t look up at you when you enter the room.

You close the door, take a few tentative steps toward him.

When you wrap your arms around him, you hear him sigh. Your cheek is pressed against his back, hands met around his middle, and you just hold onto him.

You’re tentative, never knowing what kind of mood he’s going to be in and what constitutes a step too far. But, apparently, right now this is okay.

“There’s no changing my mind, you know,” he speaks.

“I know,” you nod against him, shift your body so you’re between him and his workbench. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

His expression softens. Gloved fingers come to swipe your hair from your face. You hate the thought of his years of planning to fall apart just because of you.

“You’re welcome.”

The moment stills again.

“We could have been good,” you whisper out.

A nod. “If you stay here, you’ll get killed. Simple as that. I’m making a choice, buttercup.”

“I know…” you nod, try not to cry. “It’s crazy…” you sniffle, look away.

“What’s crazy?” he’s still got his hand cupping under your chin.

“This heat between us. I mean, you don’t know me.”

He gives you one of those devilish smirks. “But I could know you.”

And just like that, you’re pawing at him again – pulling him in to kiss you, letting your hands trail down to undo his pants. One last time.

The moment is slow as he pulls down your pants and takes you right on his workbench. You’re pretty sure you hear the door open and then close again – Chris had always been a stickler for time and your five minutes was surely up.

You lose sense of everything when he’s between your legs. It’s nice to just be in this moment with him, a final goodbye.

Gloved fingers against your clit, he urges another orgasm out of you, more powerful than the last.

You’re both wandering hands and needy kisses, soft moans as he slowly ruts into you; savoring every thrust.

The moment ends before you’d like it to; Heisenberg thrusting deep in you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he gasps and moans your name. When he finally pulls back, you can tell he’s blissed after the orgasm, but when reality sets in you see the emotion on his face.

You have to leave.

You’ll be killed if you don’t – he said it himself – but a part of you thinks it’s worth risking. He doesn’t feel the same, you’re sure, considering his metal army would be discovered and the work he’d put in would be for naught.

Revenge is a little more important than a chick he just met a few days ago. You’re being unrealistic, you know that.

“I’ll miss you,” you say, hand cupping his cheek, thumb tracing over his scars.

“And I, you.”

“Hate to break this up, but there’s an extremely tall woman headed this way…” Chris enters the room.

“Fuck,” you jump down from the workbench, pull on your pants – the ripped-up ones from the day you met Heisenberg – they’ll have to do, you’d decided.

“Take the elevator all the way down. You’ll see a tunnel. Head through there.”

You kiss him once more, pulling him into you shamelessly in front of Chris, savoring every moment with him. There’s a spark between the two of you that Chris will never understand.

And you leave without turning back because one look at him and you know you’re staying put – won’t have the guts to walk away.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris lingers in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at Heisenberg.

“You really care for her,” Chris acknowledges.

“You should really leave if you want to make it out of here alive,” he ignores Chris’ comment.

Chris’ eyes narrow. Pointedly, he pulls a business card from his pocket, lifts it toward Heisenberg, slams it down on the table beside him, then follows you down the hallway.

Heisenberg’s eyes trace over the printed lettering and a smirk appears on his face.

•••

You fake dead. That’s how you get out of this. Chris and his team cover for you and in turn you help with the Hound Wolf Squad.

Neither of you talk about what happened in Heisenberg’s factory. Neither of you really talk about any of it, really. And some missions he knows you’re too close to so he leaves you out of it.

You aren’t really together, but Chris crashes at your apartment here and there – another convenience factor thing. And, yes, maybe a few nights you’ve gotten a little too drunk and fallen into each other’s arms. It’s partly pure convenience and partly because loneliness strikes again and you’re thinking of what could have been if you’d stayed behind in the village…

One drunken night, you’re lying in bed beside Chris as he flips through TV stations.

“Did he ever…-” he starts, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “Never mind.”

You don’t push, but you’re sure he has questions about Heisenberg, sure he’s curious why you fell into your captor’s arms, sure he wonders if it was a Stockholm Syndrome deal after all.

You rarely let yourself think of him, don’t wonder what-if, don’t carry the weight of his story with you, try not to worry about his future…

Without a second thought, you change the subject to the movie he just put on, ignore the ache that settles in your chest.

•••

Months pass; holidays, birthdays. New works crops up and you’re so distracted. It’s a welcomed change. For once you’re enjoying working, not despising being sent out on mission after mission. You’re considering buying yourself a home.

You’re busy for once in a long while and keeping up on things has been trying, but your friends attempt to help keep you level by taking you out once in a while or having a movie night. You’re grateful for the turn your life has taken. Who knew that mission to the village would alter so many things?

You’re waiting on a call back from your colleague, hoping to get information so you can start up on your next project but also hoping to start your weekend soon – a night out with friends is long overdue since you started looking at houses to purchase.

Glancing out your window, you see a family passing on the street below your apartment, a baby in a stroller, a dog on a leash, bike riders and rollerbladers and joyful people completely unaware of any bioweapons in other places.

You shut your curtains, push those thoughts away, close your eyes, and try to steady your breathing.

When your phone rings, you mindlessly swipe to answer.

“Hello?”

The voice on the line stops you in your tracks.

“Hello, kitten.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Would lowkey kill to see Kauri attempting to write poetry in his relationship with Jake era (omg Jake helping him/being the one to write it down) I always forget that he was a writer and loves poetry and I love him 10 times more every time I remember

CW: Some references to past trauma, forced illiteracy, some brief internalized victim-blaming/slut-shaming, Kauri’s low self-esteem

Takes place after Worth the Risk and Kauri’s first glimpse of his own past

“This is fucking stupid. I can’t fucking do this.” Kauri picks up the notebook, hard-backed blue with little golden stars twinkling on the cover, and throws it full-strength across the room until it smacks into the wall and drops to the ground, open to his own scrawling, struggling handwriting.

Chris, wrapped in a big fuzzy blue blanket and curled up in an armchair playing a game on his phone or texting Laken or maybe both, flinches and looks up. “Kauri?”

Kauri looks away from the earnest concern in those huge green eyes and kicks ineffectually at the coffee table, hissing when he doesn’t actually miss and his toes connect with the hard wooden leg. “Fuck. Fucking-... bullshit, I’m an idiot trying to do this, just-... god damn it. I should know better.”

There’s a silence, and then Chris asks, softly, “Know better than, than... than to what? What were you, um, you doing?”

Kauri’s jaw is set and for a second he considers lying. He’s a good liar, after all, and Chris is always so ready to believe him, he wouldn’t even question it. Safer to lie, hide the ideas inside his head, talk instead about something soft and surface-level. 

Safer to be stupid, always.

But he’s trying not to do that anymore.

He’s trying.

“Writing,” He says, finally. “I was... trying to-... write something.” The words are ground out of him nearly against his will. He glares at the notebook lying open on the floor, the scrawling handwriting of the fucked up slut still thinking he can be anything else. Looping and childish, too big almost to fit within the lines. 

“Oh.” Chris pauses, and then brightens, setting his phone aside and straightening up. “You, you sad you think that you used to, to, to, to write, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Kauri’s head hurts, a sharp punishing ache. How dare he think in metaphor and simile, how dare he try to build the villanelle, how dare he remember vaguely arguing with someone in a coffeeshop over old poetic forms being superior to poems that don’t even try to fit within a rhythm, and he just-

This is so-

He’s so stupid, thinking he could just pick it up again like it hasn’t been a decade or close, like he’s still whatever stupid shit lived in his body before he-

signed up for this-

followed a fucking hot guy outside in the dark and got thrown into a van and made into Kauri. 

“Well, my... my professor for, for, for, for Playwriting says... says writing is a muscle. You, you have to exercise. And you can’t do the, um, the, the, the-the heavy weights until you start with, with small ones.”

Kauri snorts, derisive, but it’s not because Chris is wrong - of course he’s not wrong. Part of Kauri knows it, too, that he used to write all the time, around the pounding inside his skull he knows that he used to scribble lines on napkins and paper towels and the margins of his study books, bringing together the poem itself only later, usually alone or with a boyfriend on the other side of the room. He used to be able to do this.

He used to do this all the time. 

“I wish Owen had wanted someone who could write a fucking poem,” Kauri says, voice breaking on the tears that threaten. “Maybe then I’d still be able to.” He pushes himself to his feet and stomps over to scoop up the notebook almost violently. “Why are you taking Playwriting, anyway? I thought you wanted to do set design.”

“I, I do.” Chris shrugs, eyes on Kauri, watching him walk back towards the doorway that leads to a hall and then to the kitchen. “But I thought-... I, I, I figured-... maybe if I learn how to, to write a play, it would help... visualize. For, for, for set-building. You, um. You know?”

Kauri exhales, slowly, and then nods. “Yeah. I get it. That’s a good plan - I mean, not that I would know, I’m a college fucking dropout, right?” He laughs, bitterness in every word, in every sound.

“No,” Chris replies, simply. “You, you were... abducted. We were, um. We, we, we were stolen. Your words were, um, were stolen, too. That’s what Dr. Berger-”

“Fuck Dr. Berger,” Kauri snaps, and leaves the room before Chris can make any more sense and possibly break apart Kauri’s determined self-loathing while he still wants to soak in it. 

Hating himself for what he can’t do - or what he’s been told he can’t do - is so much easier than trying to do it anyway.

Everything was easier than trying to get better.

So why is he still trying?

Notebook clenched in white-knuckled hands, Kauri climbs the stairs like a man moving to the gallows, one by one, his thoughts a swirling morass of self-hatred, and then he moves into the bedroom he shares with Jake here and stares at the rumpled covers on the bed.

He sleeps here every single night, wakes up to the same face pressed red on one side from the pillow, hears the same deep voice rumbling good morning, feels the same arm slide over his waist, the same scratchy stubble rubbing his jaw when he’s kissed. 

I have generally found, in my work, the fucking therapist’s voice echoes inside him, that when you begin to do the work to rebuild, you will find yourself dedicated over time to reconstructing not just a room, Kauri, but the entire city that was once leveled. Does that make sense?

He’d told her it didn’t.

Kauri spent years dodging therapy whenever Nat didn’t talk him into it, and he hates going. He hates having to spill all the darkness inside him to someone who never stops being so goddamn calm.

But the first time she’d said, have you ever heard about the effect that solitary confinement has on the human mind? He had told her he didn’t know, but he’d started crying, too, and hadn’t been able to explain why. 

Part of you knows, Dr. Berger had said gently. Part of you always knew.

He had never really wanted to know the person who had inhabited this skin, or try to be him again. But standing here looking at the evidence of the life he is slowly building - his clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor by the bed, his toothbrush in the little cup in the bathroom, a picture of he and Jake in a frame by the bed now, the very small silver ring he wears sometimes even though they’re not and they probably won’t but it kind of feels good to wear it sometimes... 

He wonders if Liam Harker wanted a life like this one.

---

“It’s really dumb,” Kauri mutters, pulling the pillow over his face, burning red with embarrassment. “I didn’t even really mean for you to see it-”

“It’s not dumb,” Jake says, gently. Kauri feels the dip in the mattress as he sits down, feels the warmth of his hand resting on Kauri’s thigh through the blanket. “I’m sorry I read it. I didn’t know what I was looking at. If it was supposed to be a secret-”

“No. I didn’t. I forgot I left it out on the dresser. It’s not your fault. It’s so fucking stupid. I don’t know why I even-”

“Kauri.” Jake’s voice sharpens, a little. “Stop. Stop calling yourself stupid. You’re not, and you never were, and you don’t have to repeat what that asshole told you about yourself anymore, remember?”

Kauri swallows, hard, a lump in his throat he can’t quite breathe around. “When does it stop being his voice,” He asks, muffled, “and start being my own?”

“When you let it,” Jake says, rubbing his leg soothingly. “Just like my dad’s voice. You’re not stupid. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life. I’m sorry I read it, but that’s because it wasn’t mine to read, not because it was dumb, or bad. It wasn’t.”

Kauri hesitates, then pulls the pillow to the side, looking at the sincere affection in Jake’s face, his slight smile. “Yeah? You’re not just-”

“Saying that? No, I’m not. I mean, I’m not, like, a poetry person-”

“It’s not even a real villanelle, anyway.”

“I have no idea what that means. I just... I thought it was pretty good, actually. When I realized-...  I put it down when I realized you were writing about-... you know. Yourself.”

“Liam,” Kauri says, hoarse, barely able to pronounce the name. “I wrote-”

“Yeah.” Jake takes his hand, pulls it to his lips, presses a kiss to Kauri’s knuckles. “I know. It’s really good, Kaur. You should keep writing. I promise I won’t look at any stray papers I find anymore, yeah?”

Kauri takes a breath. He feels almost dizzy, in a way that is both terrible and wonderful. The way you open yourself to the people you love is a horrible, amazing risk. The way you spill the darkest parts of yourself, not things you’ve done wrong but the things you are afraid of allowing back into the light, in case it washes them all away again.

But the light he lives in now isn’t cold, and it isn’t taking him away from himself. The light he lives in now is sunlight.

“What?” Jake’s eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s that face for?”

“Jake. What if-... what if I ask you to? Read them?”

Jake’s lips press together, and he nods, smiling slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Kauri’s hand. He’s always warm, Jake, even on the coldest days. He’s always warm. “I’d be-... be fucking honored, or something that sounds less bullshit than that, but I mean it. I’d be... I love you, Kauri. Seeing inside your head is what I want to do for-... for forever.”

“Maybe I’ll ask then,” Kauri says, and pulls Jake’s hand and then Jake himself, the taller, larger man settling on top of him, holding himself up on his elbows, careful not to rest all his weight. “I love you, too, you know.”

“Yeah.” Jake kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty fucking great.”

Kauri’s eyes glimmer, but he closes them so Jake can’t see, and kisses his forehead. “It’s nice to think that I’m lucky and mean it.”

“I think you should read your poem to Dr. Berger,” Jake says, and when Kauri groans, he pulls back. “I mean it. She should know.”

Kauri wants to argue, but he looks into Jake’s eyes, and sighs, and says he’ll think about it.

---

AN APOLOGY

I am built from the hollow air left after your heart stopped beating

Your hands still gripped tight to the life they were ending

I know you thought of home but I don’t know where your home is

The sound of my voice is a green valley that only sends back screaming

Covered in smoke and dust that I told myself smelled like cologne

Pathways that remember your laughter silent in the years that followed

Have I done enough to build a life you would have enjoyed living?

I am built from the hollow air left over when your heart stopped beating

The heat of their hands as inevitable as a river tore down every foundation

Their cruelty buried you so deeply that only I remain

I don’t deserve the love that should have been yours to receive

The sound of my voice is a valley echoing back your screaming

I owe you an apology for walking around inside you

Crumbling ruins with my touch and calling it preservation

I’m sorry for every blade of grass growing through our bones

Am I nothing but hollow air from when your heart stopped beating?

-

Wildflowers grow inside me from soil windswept over ash

Is that life worth everything not quite dead so deep below?

Is Kauri Grant good enough to make up for Liam Harker’s loss?

In the valley of my body, does anyone but me still hear you screaming?

I owe you an apology and have to hope the life I live provides it

I wish I could ask for forgiveness from the shape of you  

We’re both ghosts, in the end, mosaic pieces shattered in shadows

I’m sorry that I’m all that’s left.

I built myself from hollow air in the shape of a heart still beating

The sound of my voice will always carry the echo of yours screaming

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @orchidscript @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @moose-teeth @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

[ppersonna]

physical - pjm | m

lights out and follow the noise. baby keep on dancing like you ain't got a choice. so come on, let's get physical - physical, dua lipa

↳ summary- you cant seem to escape the sexy fitness instructor that seemingly is everywhere you turn. it’s enough to make you irrational.

↳ rating- explicit

↳ word count- 6.2k

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ genre- smut, fluff, comedy, fitness instructor!jimin, honestly this is pwp but with like 20% plot

↳ warnings- oral sex (m/f receiving) penetrative sex, sex in public, exhibitionism, spitting, slightly dom!jimin, jimin is v mouthy during sex, jimin is also a brat, 

↳ a/n- hiiiii we back at it again.  this fic brings me to 1 fic per member so i can finally feel good about repeats looloooolll also, this was very fun to write because i got to incorporate my love for exercise classes and my bias uwu.  also jimin 100% would be the worst instructor to take a class from bc i would NEVER focus EVER AGAIN.  pls feel free to message, comment, etc etc bc i love friendship.  enjoy!!!!!

The sound of your spin shoes clipping into the pedals is like music to your ears. 

You feel your shoulders relax as you roll them, warming and stretching the muscles of your arms and back. EDM beats play lightly over the impressive sound system, encouraging the riders to cycle to warm up for 45 minutes of adrenaline and heart-pumping cardio. 

Spin class is one of your happy places. Group fitness classes give you a rush that solo workouts can’t compare to. You love the camaraderie, the support and the built in friendships. Plus, you love having someone at the front of the room tell you exactly what to do. So what, you’re a little subservient? 

You smile at the ladies clipping into the bikes next to you, not knowing who they are but finding that everyone is friendly and wants the best for themselves and the group.  It’s why you love these types of classes.  Strangers become teammates. 

You hadn’t bothered to check who was instructing today, having clicked on the class time that fit your schedule best. You hoped it was your favorite Hoseok, but had learned that all the instructors were just as good Hoseok was just so vibrant, he made you work harder. 

The heat in your legs builds upon a low simmer, muscles warming for an intense class.  A melodic voice sounds over the speakers, your instructor coming in and securing their place at the front of the room. 

You take a moment to stop gaping. In front of you is quite possibly the most beautiful human you’ve ever seen in your short life. 

He’s incredibly toned, wearing a tight adidas tank and second skin-like leggings. He clips into the bike on the podium and smiles at the class. 

You’re sure you’re salivating. You curse yourself for picking the bike front and center today, now acutely aware how likely you were to drool over the instructor the entire time.  

He notices your stare and winks before he adjusts his mic and speaks again. 

“Good morning, everyone!  I’ll be your instructor today. My name is Jimin and I’m happy to be here,” his voice is light and sounds like honey. It slithers down your skin and oozes into you.  “Let’s get started at a quick pace of 90 rpm’s and warm up those legs!”

His dirty blonde hair glistens in the spotlight, thighs flex and ripple in his leggings.  You’re frozen in your seat and it takes you four thumping heart beats to realize the class has started.  Fuck. He will be the death of you. Nothing makes you lose focus in class. 

You push your legs and begin, and he turns his gaze back on to you. It’s as if he lights a match and throws it on you, the way your body reacts under his stare.  You wonder what it feels like to touch his chest, his toned arms. You bite your lip and pant, breathlessness unrelated to the exercise. 

Class is torture. Everything Jimin says is a double entendre to your ears and you find your core aching and wet only 15 minutes in. Jimin looks perfect, up in third position on the bike, standing and hips pushed back. You can see his pert little ass in the mirror, and you want to cry. It’s beautiful, just like the rest of him. 

“All right, let’s tap it back in 4, 3, 2, 1!”

Jimin pushes his hips to tap the seat with his ass, before standing back up as he pedals in time with the music. He looks delicious, sweat on his forehead.  He pushes his hair out of his eyes and you nearly pass out at the sly smile curved on his face. 

You attempt to do the workout but feel yourself faltering, missing the beat often. It frustrates you. Normally, you are at the top of the leaderboard, soaring above the others with your effort. Today you land near the bottom. All because of fucking Jimin and his perfect fucking body. 

The arms circuit comes next and you are grateful for the reprieve from heavy resistance on your legs and a chance to sit and catch your breath.  You grab the weight bar and hold it in your palms, ready to do bicep curls at the count of your instructor. 

Jimin unclips from his bike and grabs his bar, before walking the length of the front of the room.  He begins with the bicep curls and you choke. His arms ripple with the effort and his hands look so strong and veiny; your mind immediately fills with thoughts of his strong hands fingering you to completion.  He counts out the numbers and winks at you again as you falter in your push and pull. You shut your eyes, avoiding looking at him, and focus on the curl of your arms. 

It’s infuriating. You take pride in your fitness and find yourself most satisfied after an intense workout.  This class has proven to be intense in a whole different manner, but you’re upset at the lost opportunity to push yourself and focus. 

As your eyes flutter open again, Jimin moves to put the bar away and clip back into his bike. Only 15 minutes left. You can do this. 

You definitely did not do it. The last fifteen minutes were pure torture. Jimin kept his monologue of encouragement going, but his voice was tinged with fatigue and he panted hard into the mic. Sometimes, during particularly tough resistance, he would add little grunts and “uh!”s to his countdowns.  You felt your thighs tremble with each one, gasping at the fantasy of his grunts as he fucked into you. 

Blessedly, the class ended and Jimin was leading the group through relaxing stretches to calm you down. It didn’t calm you in the least.  You watch as he folds himself in half over the bike to stretch his hamstrings and you’re mesmerized when he stands on his bike to stretch his back out. You want to lick every inch of him, tease your tongue down every hard line of muscle you could see until it landed directly on his coc-

“Thank you, everyone! You did incredible!” Jimin cooes over the mic as he stands next to the bike. He bows slightly in reverence to the group, and the class is dismissed. 

You’re not sure if you want to book it out of the room first or linger. You’re sure if he tries to talk to you, you’ll implode. Maybe you can leave in a crowd, while he’s talking to one of the older ladies sure to hit on him. 

You pack up your water bottle and towel, patting the sweat on your face as you try to sneak past in a crowd of elderly women. 

“Hey!” Jimin calls and you freeze. You look up to find the object of your frustrations smiling at you. Fuck. He was talking to you.

“Great job today,” he grins. 

Little shit, you grumble internally. He knows perfectly well that you did dreadfully, coming in 12th place out of 15. A woman three times your age got first place, and it burned you more than you cared to admit. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, awkwardly patting your face dry.  You’re positive you look terrible. Red faced from exertion and arousal, sweating like a pig. 

“You come here often, princess?” He asks as he walks closer to you. You find your breath catch in your throat and you’re unable to reply.  He chuckles. 

“Cat got your tongue?”  His smirk is legendary and you want to slap or kiss it right off. 

“I’m-,” you croak out, then clear your throat and steel yourself. “I come every other day. Sometimes more.” 

Jimin can’t take his eyes off of you. He smirks again. “You should take another class of mine, doll.” 

You blush, and you hope the already flushed color of your cheeks hides it. 

“You could use the practice. Soon, you’ll get the hang of it.” He gives you a wink and leaves, leaving you stewing in anger and frustration at his words. 

How dare he?! He assumed you were a novice! Your pride and ego burned. You were a regular! You always came in the top 3 of the class! It’s his fucking fault you couldn’t focus on class! 

You grab your things from the locker you stored it in, change your shoes, and stomp out of the spin studio with only one thought on your mind. 

The asshole, Park Jimin. 

You avoided spin like the plague. You rationally knew he didn’t teach every single class there, but you couldn’t face it, face the place where he hurt your pride so quickly and turned your insides into molten lava. 

You dragged your best friend Jungkook with you to yoga, a quick and heated vinyasa class. Jungkook was more of a weight lifting guy, but you had recently talked him into trying yoga, explaining the benefits of meditation and the stretching of his muscles and sinew would help improve his form. He caved and quickly found he liked it. 

You spread your mat down on the warm wooden floor and let out a sigh. You had been looking forward to this class all week, and you were finally here.  You ensured you were taking the class from your favorite instructor, Taehyung, when you booked you and Jungkook’s spot. 

You smile at Jungkook as he settles himself into his mat, and you both begin stretching and chatting lightly before class begins. 

The door opens just as you get into child’s pose, face toward the mat in between your thighs and arms stretched high above your head on the floor. 

A silky voice, most decidedly not Taehyung’s, rolls over your body. 

“Welcome everyone. I’m your substitute teacher today. My name is Park Jimin.”

Your head snaps up and you stifle a groan at the sight you’re welcomed with.  

Jimin stands on the mat at the front of the class, directly in front of you, wearing nothing but long, lululemon tights that cling to his skin. Again, you chose to be front and fucking center. You can see the way his legs form in his leggings. His chest is bare, and you can’t stop staring at the defined lines of his abs. You want to cry. 

He’s invaded your favorite spots twice now. 

He recognizes you, startled for a moment, but quickly covers it with a wink in your direction. You let your head fall to the mat with a thunk. 

The class is hot, literally. It’s 102 degrees Fahrenheit and you’re dripping with sweat. You move with precision through each sun salutation, ashtanga, and tree pose. The moves flow into one another, your favorite thing about vinyasa, and you pointedly avoid even looking at the instructor.  You’re grateful you know all the moves by heart and can position yourself into them by memory. 

You’re proud that you only falter a few times, heart stuttering every time Jimin walks by you to note your pose and call out the next position. You’ve never wanted to simultaneously fight and fuck someone so bad in your life. 

It’s the final, relaxing poses of the class and you sigh with relief as you maneuver into sleeping swan. You slide out of down dog and slip your right knee between your hands, lean a bit to the right, and press your hips forward towards the ground.  You can feel the delicious stretch in your hips and your eyes flutter at the release of tension.  You lay down over your knee, allowing your arms to lay flat above your knee and press your hips down as far as you can. 

It’s quiet, all you can hear is your breath. You see Jimin out of the corner of your eye assisting others push deeper into the pose, pressing his hands where they need the help.  You gulp.  Fuck. 

You turn your head back towards the mat and focus only on your breathing and the stretch in your body.   Jimin indicates to switch legs, and you do so effortlessly, sliding your left knee to the center and putting your right knee back. 

It feels good to stretch, especially on your weaker left side. You inhale deeply and let it out as you try to push your hip forward more.  

Suddenly, warm hands are on your lower back, right above the cleft of your ass. You bite your lip tight, knowing it’s Jimin, guiding you deeper.  Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Your breath catches as he presses down, humming his approval as your hips move with his hands and you gasp at the feel of the stretch. It feels even better going further than you could on your own. He laughs quietly through his nostrils, as he smooths his warm hands up under your shirt to rest on the skin of your back. 

You feel as if you will explode. Just as your body reacts to his touch and caress, it’s gone and he’s moving to Jungkook to guide the weightlifter through his own pose.  

The class ends and Jungkook smiles at you as you both lift from your ‘namaste’ bow. 

“That was great!” He grins as he rolls up his mat. “Jimin’s a great teacher! We should take more of his classes.” 

You silently cry, not sure your weak heart and pussy can handle any more of Jimin and his stupidly hot body and his ridiculous smile. 

“Yeah, Kook,” you half-heartedly agree, not interested in divulging your sordid secret crush on the asshole who embarrassed you. 

You’re packed up and exiting the room when the same familiar voice chimes. 

“Hey, princess!”  

You and Jungkook both turn around to see Jimin smiling at the head of the room. Jungkook looks at you questioningly, wondering why the instructor is calling you princess. 

“You did good today,” Jimin notes. “You should come again sometime. We can make sure you’re really getting stretched out.” 

Your cheeks flame impossibly red and you splutter. Jimin winks at you. This fucking asshole. 

“Your hips seem a little tight. We can work on that.”  He knows exactly what he’s fucking doing and you want to kick him in the dick just as much as you want to kneel in front of him to suck it. 

“Sure, Jimin,” you grumble out before you drag Jungkook from the heated room. 

Jungkook is all grins. “What was THAT?” He asks as you exit the yoga studio and head towards the subway. “He was basically asking to fuck you right there! How do you know him?!”

You pout at your best friend. “He doesn’t want to fuck! He just enjoys getting me worked up,” you sigh. “He was my spin instructor the other day, and he got me so fucking heated I nearly came in last place! In a class full of grandmas!” 

Jungkook snickers as you both tap your metro cards and lean against the wall to wait for the next train. 

“Girl, he was offering to help you stretch you out. He wants you.” 

As much as it thrilled you, you couldn’t comprehend it. Jimin was ethereal. He surely had women throwing themselves at him. He simply enjoyed the teasing. 

“Whatever, Kook. He told me I need practice at cycling. ME! I’m the goddamn spin queen!”  The crowd around you watches you and you pale at the embarrassment. You lower your voice. “He just wants to see me fired up, for no fucking reason.”

“Okay, delusional,” he sighs, patting your sweaty head. “Believe what you want.” 

You hmph in reply and watch as a train approaches to take you home. 

You most definitely will believe what you want. 

Jimin is fucking everywhere.  If he’s not instructing, he’s taking the same fucking classes as you. Barre, Pilates, yin yoga, CrossFit. He’s always there and always taunting you with his perfect fucking body and teasing words and your fantasies of him drilling you into a mattress until you can’t talk. 

You avoid group classes altogether. You can’t face him. Your fitness is suffering because of it. 

You suck it up and go to the gym, the regular ass gym with no classes, and you’re determined to run a few miles on the treadmill and maybe get a good 20 minute lift in. It’s been too long since you’ve had the thrill of a good workout, the satisfying ache in your muscles. The gym will suffice.  It’s missing the level of companionship that group classes provide, but it’s better than nothing.

You pop your earphones into your ears and click on some music, not caring what it was as long as it was quick, and press begin on the treadmill. 

Running is easy. The strangers around you melt away and it’s just you and the treadmill. You love the way your heart is beating, sweat forming at your forehead.  Finally. A good fucking workout. 

All thoughts sweep away as you run, and your only thought process is on the push down of your feet on the treadmill belt and the pull up of your legs to lengthen your stride.  The runner’s high was something you lived for, and you realize you should incorporate more running into your routine. 

You don’t even pause for water, so wrapped up in the run's high that you don’t feel thirsty. 

Your watch vibrates against your wrist, notifying you that the 60 minutes you set to run is up, and you slow your pace to a complete stop.  You feel like you’re high. Your heart is racing and your body feels like it’s vibrating. This is what you had been missing in the weeks of unsatisfying classes. The flood of endorphins after a perfect workout.  

You suck down some water, before removing your earbuds from your ears. The roar of the gym is loud, music and TVs and chatter from the gymgoers. 

“You’ve got great running form, you know.” A familiar sultry voice is suddenly next to you, and your arms prickle. 

You turn to gaze at the intruder and feel your body coil tight. 

Park fucking Jimin. And his fucking ridiculously sexy smirk and perfect hair and godly body. 

“Are you following me?!” You accuse. How the fuck is he everywhere you go!?

Jimin laughs out loud and leans against the treadmill next to you. “It’s not my fault you’re taking all my classes! One might think you’re following me.”  

You scowl and push yourself off the treadmill. 

“Hey, wait, don’t go!” he calls and grabs your arm.  

You turn to glare at him. “You going to tell me I need more practice at running too?” your tone is harsh but you don’t care. 

Jimin bites his lip and smiles at you. “Damn, is that why you hate me?” He asks. 

“You told me I needed more practice at cycling!  I'm great at cycling!  Better than most!”

You’re aware that others are watching, but you can’t find it in you to care. You cross your arms underneath you, pressed up against your sports bra you deemed appropriate as a shirt. 

“You looked like a beginner! I’m sorry!” He apologizes. “Hoseok told me later that you’re, like, one of the best!  I have to reach out to the new riders! It’s mandatory!”  

You suck your teeth, still unimpressed. 

“When I saw you in yoga doing everything from memory, I knew you weren’t just some novice! I’m sorry for assuming, okay?” He sighs. “What had you so fucked up in spin, anyway?” 

Your heart thuds to a skidding brake. There’s no way you can tell him the reason you sucked so bad in class was because you could only focus on how his cock would feel stuffed up inside you. 

“I,” you falter. For the second time, Jimin has you stumbling over your words. “I didn’t feel well,” you lie. 

Jimin snorts. “Bullshit.”

Your cheeks flush and you stay silent. 

“You got distracted by me, didn’t you?” He smirks. You gape at the size of his ego. You wonder if his cock compares in size and then kick yourself for still thinking about his fucking dick. 

“I’ll take the silence as a yes,” he winks as he throws an arm around your shoulder. 

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that?” You snark as you push his delicious, toned, silky arm off you. 

“And you’re a selfish, competitive bitch.”

The grin on his face is shit-eating, and you find your blood boiling. 

“You take that back!” You demand. 

“Tell me I distracted you, that my presence fucked up the great ___, spin queen extraordinaire, and I will.” 

All you see is red.  Red, fiery anger. No.  There was no fucking way you would let him win, revel in your shame in the middle of a crowded gym.   You drag Jimin by his Nike tank top that shows almost 100% of his body, to the nearest ‘family shower’, pulling him inside and locking the heavy door behind you. 

You push him against the door and press a finger to his chest. 

“Fine! You did. You distracted me throughout fucking class,” you hiss. “All I could think about was sucking you off and seeing your lips on my pussy and riding your dick until we both can’t talk. Okay?! Happy now?!” You’re fuming, chest heaving with intensity. 

Jimin's grin lights up ten times brighter. 

“I thought the same things during class too,” he admits coolly. 

Jimin has you speechless for the nth time. “What?” You breathe. 

“When I saw you on the bike, I couldn’t stop staring at your tits and your lips. You looked so good. And then in yoga, that tight little ass was begging for me to spank it. While you were running, I was wondering what you’d look like cumming around my cock.” 

He shrugs, the words rolling off his tongue as if he isn’t admitting he wants to defile you as much as you do him. 

“Are you serious!!?” You squeak, heart beat thundering in your ears. 

“100%,” he smirks and rests the back of his head against the door. 

It’s silent for a beat as you stare each other down.

Fuck it.

Next thing you know, you’re launching yourself forward to press your lips to his in a searing hot kiss. 

Jimin kisses back fervently, tongue swirling into your mouth as his hands wrap around your body.  He finds purchase on your ass and squeezes it through the tight leggings. 

You gasp and shudder at his hands roaming your backside. Jimin pulls his lips away and smirks. God, that fucking smirk. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” 

“Yeah?” You ask as you move your hands to the front of his chest. He nods. “You know what I’ve wanted to do for a while?”  

He grins and tilts his head. “What, princess?” 

You drop to your knees, tugging his adidas tights down with you. His cock springs free, and you gape at the enormity of it. 

“Shit,” he hisses suddenly as cool air hits him. “That was fucking hot.”

You’re encouraged by him and you wink up at him, before you’re wrapping your hand around his length to give it an introductory pump. 

Jimin rewards you with a moan, unabashed in his volume. He doesn’t care who the fuck hears you two, this is the hottest thing he’s done in his life. 

“So thick,” you murmur. “I wondered how big it was.” 

Jimin can’t reply, because your lips are latching onto his dick with fervor and you lick and suckle at his length.  Jimin’s eyes nearly roll back into his head at the suction of your mouth.  

“Oh, my god,” he gasps. “Y-You’re ridiculously good at that.” 

You preen under his praise and continue, allowing his length to the back of your throat.  You let him gag you, saliva and tears both gathering at the sensation and Jimin stifles a cry.  Your hand comes to his cock as you pull away and take a harsh breath, wiping away the tears from your gag reflex.  You stroke him quickly, loving the way his weighty cock feels in your hands.  As you pump him, the tip of your tongue teases at the slit of his head and Jimin swears loudly. 

“Fuck!  Christ, gonna make me cum,” he’s whiny. It’s adorable. He purses his pretty puffy lips as he moans for more, more of you. “Such a good girl, shit, ahhhhh,” he gasps as you suck him into your mouth again. 

It doesn’t take long, the sensation of your hot mouth and hand jerking him sends him flying and he’s cumming hot stripes down your throat.  You feel you’re on cloud nine as you swallow his seed, sucking at the tip until he hisses from overstimulation. 

As you pull away, you open your mouth and extend your tongue to show him you dutifully swallowed his cum, and he groans. 

“You’re a fucking filthy little thing, aren’t you?” 

You nod in reply, and Jimin grips your jaw in his hand, forcing your mouth to stay open.  

You jerk in his grasp as he spits into your mouth; the saliva hitting your tongue. You’ve never been more turned on in your life.  He releases you, and you swallow again. 

“Kinky bitch,” Jimin cooes. “All for me.” 

He pulls you up to stand in front of him, pressing his lips to yours again for another burning kiss. 

It’s too short for your liking, as Jimin pulls away and manhandles you to sit on the sink. You’re obedient, smiling prettily. Fuck, you can’t believe it’s happening. You just sucked Jimin off, the same Jimin you’ve ogled and anguished over for weeks now. 

“Let me see these tits,” he asserts as he tugs up the sports bra from your body.  You comply, raising your arms up to allow him to pull it off. 

He throws the bra to the floor and cups your breasts. 

“Fuck,” he breathes as his thumbs rub across your nipples.  You shiver from the cold air and the heat of his thumbs. “I jerked off thinking about these tits after spin.”

He lowers himself to lick at a nipple and you’re whining for more. 

“Thought about pushing them together and fucking them like a pussy.”  He bites down on your nub, causing you to squeal and jump. He soothes the flesh with a suck from his lips and languid circling of his tongue. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He smirks, eyes boring into yours as he roves your nipple with his delicious tongue  “My kinky little whore wants her yoga instructor to fuck her pretty tits.”

You’re thriving, his words making your cunt ache. It’s dripping wet. You’re sure it’s leaking through the fabric of your leggings by now. Jimin being just as rough and filthy as your fantasies has you reeling. 

“Yes,” you whine. “I want you to fuck your cock in my tits.” 

Jimin hums around your nipple before switching to the other, ravaging it with the same attention as its twin received. 

“God, you’re a fucking whore,” he whispers as he bites at your nipple hard enough to make you jerk in his grasp.  “I love it.” 

Your hips are moving against his body, desperate for friction where you need it most.  It’s not lost on Jimin and he pulls off your tits with a pop. He marvels at his work. Your nipples are suckled fresh and red, perking and pebbling in the cold air. 

“Mmm, does princess want some attention here?” He asks as he slides a hand down to grip your aching quim.  

You gasp in response, shuddering at the feel of his palm against your core. 

“P-please! Pretty please!” You beg. 

He kisses at your breasts again, before he tugs your shoes and socks off, and pulls the leggings down your smooth legs and throws them to join the matching bra on the floor. He’s pleased when he notes you aren’t wearing panties.

You don’t care how you look, wanton and desperate.  You spread your thighs wide, feet resting on the edge of the sink. Jimin gazes at you like you’re fine art, the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. 

“Look at you,” he adores. “Spread out for me like a slut.  And you’re dripping wet too, mmm.” He rubs a finger up and down your silky thigh. 

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He grips your chin with one hand while the other continues rubbing at your inner thigh. “A good little bitch for me.”

You nod and gasp as his fingers skim impossibly close to your cunt. 

“Do you deserve it, princess? After you were so mean to me earlier?”  

You pout and shiver. “I’m sorry!” You gasp as his finger hovered over your pussy. “I’m s-sorry! I was j-just upset! I didn’t meaaaaaaan it!” His finger dips and taps at your clit, feather light, and you’re crying at the feeling. 

Jimin shushes you, finger still impossibly light on your clit. “Hush, baby. I forgive you. You sucked my cock so well, made me cum so hard.”

The finger increases pressure slightly and you’re aching, trembling for more. 

“Good little sluts get rewarded, hm? I think you’ve earned yours, princess.” 

You’re not given an opportunity to reply as Jimin harshly thrusts two fingers into your cunt and fucks you furiously.  Your moan is impossibly loud, loud enough you’re sure the rest of the gym can hear you but all you can focus on is Jimin, Jimin, Jimin and his thick fucking fingers thrusting into you. 

He lowers down and licks at your clit, flicking it up and down. He watches as your body trembles, wails echoing off the tile walls. 

“Mmm, my pretty little princess, so fucking wet for me.” He emphasizes with a kiss to your clit, before he sucks it into his lips. The tugging makes stars shine in your vision, nearly blacking out from how good it feels. 

Jimin can feel that you are close, and as much as he wants to get you off with his fingers, he wants you to cum on his cock more. He pulls away from you, and you’re whining at the loss. 

“Hush, princess,” he sighs. “Be good, no whining.”

You quiet immediately but still feel a throb in your core. He delivers a harsh slap to your cunt, surprising you and making you yelp. Jimin grins and kisses your lips.

“Stand up and turn around and face the mirror, doll.”

You move to comply, hop off the counter to turn and press your back against Jimin. You can see yourself in the gym mirror now. You look fucked out completely. Your tits are blooming red where he suckled at your nipples, eyes hooded and blown wide with lust. 

Jimin’s lips tickle at your ear and he whispers, “This is what I imagined during spin class. Seeing you so fucked out and wet for me.   These pretty tits marked by me,” he cups one, and pinches at the nipple. “My sweet little princess.” 

His hand moves up to your throat, giving it a solid squeeze, and you shut your eyes. Euphoria.  Pure bliss. 

“That’s right, baby,” he kisses the shell of your ear. “All mine.  Such a slut for me.” 

You’re nodding, eyes still closed, as he removes his hand and pressed your head down towards the sink.  You wiggle your ass and rub against his length, giggling at the feel. 

“I want you to watch yourself get fucked by me. You’re gonna watch me ruin this tiny little cunt,” he grunts. “You’re going to watch what I fantasized about in every fucking class I saw you in.” 

You realize you’re moaning loudly, the sound spilling out of your lips subconsciously as the head of his dick rubs your pussy lips.  He hisses at the wetness, loving the way it slicks up his cock with ease. 

“Eyes open, my love,” he orders gently when he notices you’ve closed them.  They snap open and your gaze falls on him in the mirror.  He looks so fucking good, so hot and feral. His muscles glisten in the light, a sheen of sweat from his workout and from the heat of your bodies pressing together. 

He winks at you, the same one he gave you that fucking blasted day at spin, and then pushes into your tight heat in one go. 

“Oh, fuck, Jimin!” you’re gasping as your walls stretch to accommodate him. 

He grits his teeth for a moment, savoring the feel of your silken walls. “Told you we needed to stretch you out, need to get you nice and loose.”

You shiver as he remains still inside of you, but he’s quickly pulling out of you to impale you again.  The sound of flesh slapping on flesh fills the room and you can hear the wetness of your cunt around him. 

“Shit,” he moans. “You’re so fucking tight, unghhhh. Gonna ruin this little pussy, baby.  Gonna make you never want another cock in you except mine.” 

You believe him. You’re sure after this you’ll never even notice another man.  Jimin has you wrapped around his finger, he has since the first day you met at spin. 

“All yours,” you squeak through the thrusts, watching your tits jiggle. He notices your stare and roughly grabs at one, squeezing it until you reward him with a loud groan and the tightening of your cunt. 

“That’s right.  You’re mine. Ahhhh, wanna make you my girl, baby. Gonna fuck this little hole every night. You’d like that, huh?”  You nod in reply, and he slaps your ass with his free hand. “Use your filthy words, bitch.” 

You gasp at the sharp sting and splitter a response. “P-please! I want you! Only want you inside me.”  You’re half coherent to the words you’re speaking, his dick is literally fucking you stupid. 

He grins in reply, swatting your ass again. The pain sends a tingle straight to your clit and you squeeze his cock inside you, causing him to groan out loud. 

“God, you’re so perfect.  So fucking perfect for me,” he babbles. “Gonna fuck you in the spin studio.  And at yoga.  Gonna fuck you in barre while everyone watches.” 

The high you’re feeling is unparalleled.  You’re sure you’ve felt nothing quite like this, never been fucked so good in your lifetime. Jimin knows how to work you up, both emotionally and physically, and brings out the beast in you. 

You can feel your release building, already so close from his incessant fingering and tonguing of your clit. 

“J-Jimin!” You’re heaving his name, harsh pants signaling your oncoming climax. “S-so close!”

He becomes rabid, fucking into you at a pace you’re sure isn’t human. He angles his dick to hit right at your spongy wall, thrusting into your g-spot with ease, as if he knows your body inside and out. 

“Yeah, cum for me, whore. Cum on my cock.” 

It feels heady, feeling him thrust inside you and murmur such filth to you. He wants you and only you. The notion is as orgasmic as his cock itself.  The tightness in your core builds, builds, leaning on the precipice of euphoria. 

“Cum for me, baby, come on. Mark me as yours.” 

His possessive tone is the last thing you hear before the waves of orgasm pound over you like a typhoon. Your cunt clenches and flutters hard around his dick and he’s moaning your name. You feel how tight you are, his cock stilling inside you as he reaches his own high. 

“Oh, shit! Shit shit shit!” he gasps. “Gonna be full of my cum, baby! You’re mine!”  

Hot ropes of cum coat your core, and you’re relishing in the feeling. 

“My god,” Jimin sighs. He lets his softening cock remain inside you as he presses a kiss to your back. 

“Is it too early to say I love you?” He jokes.  Your heart flutters as you wiggle your ass.

“No, but take me to dinner first.”

He slaps at your red ass lightly, right where he spanked it before. His grin lights up the room. 

“With pleasure.”

“Hi, welcome to class, I’ll be your instructor today. My name is Jimin. Let’s get started.” 

You smile from your seat, front and center, and move your legs in time with the music. 

The instructor catches your eye and winks at you. 

Spin is even better now, if that’s possible. You spend your time in class with your deliciously sweaty boyfriend, who doesn’t go easy on you. He pushes you, makes you better and faster and stronger.  He rewards your first place spots by eating your pussy until you cry. 

Life is better.  You’ve found your person, the one who will do everything with you, for you. He loves you, completely and fully. You’ve never felt more cherished in your long years of living. 

Class ends before you know it, and you linger as the group meanders out to the lobby, leaving Jimin and you alone. 

“Hey, princess,” he calls to you as you rub the sweat from your face. 

You look up to see a sly smile on his face. 

“You should stay back and practice.  I think you need it,” he chides, teasingly. 

Your heart skips a beat as he closes the door, barring you from exiting the room full of bikes, and approaches you with a leer. 

“Oh, yeah?” You place a hand on your hip. 

“Yeah, and I think I know just the instructor who can help.” 

Jimin pounces on you with a kiss, and your giggles fill the room. 

Life is better now, and it will get even more so. Jimin glances back at the podium as you scurry to get your leggings off, his eyes resting on the velvet ring box. 

Yeah, it will definitely get better. 

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[marvelsuperfangirl]

Spooky Coincidences

Bucky x Reader

A/N : I wrote this and the following chapter in a day, I don’t why but the idea of unfortunate encounters with Bucky inspired me, it’s been a while I haven’t written for the Marvel fandom, so I hope you’ll like it :)

Warnings : Punch, broken jaw, spilled burning coffee ( is it really a warning? ) and crappy writing... ( sorry )

Halloween was commercial ! It was an appropriation by the consumation society to make an even bigger profit than the other period of the year.

Candies, seasonal snacks and drinks, decorations, events, haunted houses… Their only goal was to steal the honest people’s money.

Which is why, this year, you decided to become one of the instrument of that overpowerful society. By becoming a monster in a haunted house !

At the time, it sounded like hell of an idea… Now not so much….

You’ve heard about the super fun and well paid experience of working in a haunted house, so of course, you’ve applied to the job and became the ephemeral place’s entitled werewolf.

At first, you scrunched up your nose at the news. Yay, being disguised as a half human half dog being, so cool…

But at least, you were a cool version of a werewolf, wild hair, long white teeth, fake claws fake contact lenses, teared clothes and make up to match the style and give a scary touch to the mix.

After only a few shifts in the haunted house, things started to go south for you, and unbeknownst, itw as only the beginning….

The house had transformed one of its wings into a dark forrest, which floor was covered in fake grass and «  jonchée » of bones, cracking under the feet of the visitors. And you were supposed to jump from between the trees, covered in blood and baring your fake fangs to the already rather scared people who dared to wander in your territory.

The very evening of Halloween, you had to step up your game and look twice as scary to make all the children and daring adults shit their pants, at least, that’s what your boss said, even if you prayed it wouldn’t literally happen, at least not in your area…

You were waiting, crouched behind the fake trees, for newcomers to enter your wing, legs starting to hurt from how long you’ve been maintaining the uncomfortable position.

« Calm down, Bucky, we’re almost out »

As the masculine voice reached your ears, you stood up abruptly and got into character, giving yourself a mental speech.

«  I’m a mean werewolf, hungry for human flesh, and mostly for money, so if I want it, I need to scare the hell out of those humans, let’s go »

« I can’t understand by you get shit scared by fake monster when you’re fighting nazis almost every week » another voice rang , sounding closer this time.

You heard a groan and waited for your preys to be at the perfect place to be pounced on and jumped right out from between the trees.

There was a tall bulky man right in front of you and without thinking you chose him as your dedicated victim for this group.

You advanced toward him, but alerted by your roars he’d already turned to you, eyes wide in fear and had a small backing movement before his fist came colliding with the side of your face.

The punch sent you flying back against one of the fake trees, which produced a very unpleasant noise, and all you could feel was pain and shock.

Your whole skull was throbbing from  the impact of his fist and the pain in your back was almost able to rivalize with the previous one.

Around you, gasps and scream echoed while you were gritting your teeth in a vain attemps at controlling your pain.

« Oh god, are you alright ? »

Someone has crouched down beside you and held your shoulder, trying to get a look at your face, you noticed a few other pairs of feet in your line of vision, joining the first person.

As the shock subdued, on the complete opposite of the pain, you replayed what happened and remembered your attacker. You tried to lift your head as slow as possible as to not worsen the throbbing and search the little crowd with your eyes for the guy who was responsible for the possible concussion you would be diagnosed for, except if you were going to die, that is !

And there he was ! The fear was still evident on his face but now it was twisted with a dose of remorse / guilt.

With you teeth still gritted like your life depended on it, you managed to give a piece of your mind at that stranger.

« Why the hell did you punch me ?! »

Everyone person present in the area turned to him, waiting for an answer but as he start to open his mouth, visibly even more embarrassed, you didn’t let him say anything.

« You f*ck*ng idiot ! What the f*ck, if you’re scared of haunted house don’t go there, you asshole ! Go f*ck yourself elsewhere before I call a lawyer, you dick ! »

You spat all the harsh words you could think about at the moment, your mind blurry from the adrenaline =, while the pain gave you the urge to get it all out and maybe feel a little bit better. News flash : it wasn’t the case.

« Miss, we’re sorry, itw as an accident he’s just »

« Y/N ! »

One of your colleague who was responsible for the lights and cameras in your wing came running toward you, pushing throught the crowd, flanked by a few other members of the team.

« We already called an ambulance to check on you »

« We’ll evacuate the house, stay there and wait for them, it wouldn’t be a good idea to move you ourselves. »

The first one nodded and settled down next to you while the others started to usher your attacker and his friends out, leaving you alone with your colleague.

« It probably sounds stupid but how are you feeling ? »

You glared at him, at his more than known stupidity before softening.

« Like hell, that guy has a killer punch, seriously, I feel like my head’s gonna explode, and my back hurts as well, you tried to move to stretch but your colleage held your shoulders.

« Don’t move, it could be something severe, we’ll see what we can do for that guy and regarding your state if there will be legal pursuit or no, don’t you worry about that »

You leaned abck against the fake tree, replaying the exact moment when you decided it would be a good idea to work in a haunted house to make « easy money ».

« Fuck I hate Halloween »

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet- Prologue

All chapters

Its your sixth year here at Beauxbatons, but your mother has just informed you that your parents are getting divorced and you will be leaving your dad, meaning you have to move and transfer to Hogwarts. You were finally starting to feel grown and now everything is changing, but unbeknownst to you, the lonely potions professor will capture your heart and hold it for many years to come.

A Severus Snape fan fiction.

A/n hello, welcome to my first harry potter story, i'm going to start by saying all my knowledge is from the movies, some things/timelines may not line up correctly/aren't completely accurate or not mentioned but its to go with the flow of the story! thank you and enjoy!

I continued packing and sorting through all my belongings in my room while listening to music, attempting to drown out the cries and yells coming from downstairs. My mother had just announced to my father that she was leaving him and taking me with her. He was going to be left with nothing but the house and his things, I was okay with that though, he was nothing slight of an asshole. I sat down staring at a picture of me and my older sister when we were little, sitting in the same dusty plaid green sofa that sat in my living room at this very moment. I sighed as I briskly wiped a single tear that slid down my cheek, not wanting to be seen, I knew that was silly and that it was me simply being human, but my parents never showed much emotion around me, and my father often mocked those who expressed them, calling them weak minded for grieving or even crying for that matter. And my mother would often leave the room the minute she felt anything other than joy or anger, but she never fooled anyone, we always knew she walked away to cry silently alone. I remember vividly the first time I saw my mother cry. I was 7 and her father had passed away a couple days prior and we all went for a walk downtown, there was a candlelight vigil for some random old guy, but he had died from the same thing that took my grandfather from her. He wasn't around much when she was younger and he never bothered to meet my sister or I but I knew she still held tightly on the fond memories of him from when she was a girl. She began to walk away and me being clueless followed her, it was then I saw her taking out a handkerchief and wiping a few stray tears away. I reached my little hand up and rested it on her shoulder and told her it's ok, but she shrugged it off and told me to go back with my dad and keep walking. That's when I learned to just leave her alone anytime she was upset. I had never seen my father cry in my entire life until a couple months ago when his father was then taken from him, and even then it was only a few tears at his funeral which were quickly whisked away and never to be seen again. It was no surprise though.

I didn't dare go downstairs at the moment I knew my presence would only make things worse. Even amidst all this chaos neither of them shed a tear, which led me to believe they never really cared for each other the way parents were supposed to. It hurt watching the family being broken apart but what hurt the most was leaving Beauxbatons. I had just begun my sixth year there and I was so excited, I was almost done, I loved this school it was perfect for a girl like me, and I was dreading moving schools, but when I found out I was enrolling in Hogwarts I did a lot of research which wasn't easy, luckily I knew someone who worked there, or shall I say ran the whole thing. Albus Dumbledore, also known as my godfather, I know it may seem weird for me to have ever attended Beauxbatons, but my sister went there and my mother wanted me to follow in her footsteps, she wasn't happy about me transferring either, but she knew we needed to get far from my father.

   I got up off my creaky bed and gently waved my wand in the air and finished packing everything up, setting the picture frame in last and closing my suitcases. I stood still for a moment thinking over all the memories I had in this house, I had lived  here as long as I could remember and I was devastated to leave it. Especially in the care of my useless father. I tucked my h/c hair out of my face and behind my ear and muttered a spell which lifted my suitcases for me and began to quietly walk out of my room pausing in the doorway to listen for the muffled voices of my parents, I waited about three minutes and heard nothing assuming they either tired out from arguing or just got so mad they both stormed away. I turned to look into my room for one last time, admiring the homey feel it gave off, the light grey walls that I had just painted a year prior because I wanted a more "mature look" as opposed to the bright blue that had remained prior from when I was 10. I swallowed the lump in my throat and closed the door behind me, walking down the rickety stairs that creaked with every step, my luggage following close behind. I ran my hand along the railing, taking in every chip and crack from many times sliding down them with my sister.

As I approached the living room I noticed my father lazily plopped on the couch looking over a newspaper, visibly tired from the arguing he had just got done doing. "Where's mother?'' I asked in a small tone, careful not to startle him. "She's loading her stuff into the car...did you know she was going to take that too?" he asked with a clear tone of anger. "No actually I didn't." I said smirking sarcastically and heading out the front door. "Hey" I said with a small smile as I approached the car. My mother was hurriedly loading her stuff in and asking me to do as many spells as I could to fit it all in the small car. She didn't answer as she continued loading stuff in. "Need any help?" I asked using the same spells on my luggage and putting it in the front seat where my feet would go. "No y/n right now I just need your father to not be a fucking asshole" she spoke in a harsh but obviously exhausted tone. "Ha well only in our dreams right '' I said laughing slightly trying to lighten the mood. She just ignored it and shut the trunk of the car with a loud slam. "Keep slamming shit and you won't have a car to take from me!" I heard my dad holler from the house. I turned and faced the door where his voice boomed from and looked back at my mom, "Anything else we need?" I asked politely. "No that's all now go say goodbye I'll be waiting here in the car." she said sternly and got into the car without a second thought starting it up and waiting. I quickly went up the steps into my home and walked into my fathers line of view. "We are leaving now." I said with my hands on my hips staring at him as he continued to read the paper. "Mm" was all he said, I continued to stand there staring him down. "Is there anything else you want to say before we go?" I asked my patience growing thin as he continued to read the paper, slowly flipping the pages of the thin material and ignoring my questions. "Okay , well If not I'm going to go, hopefully I don't get in an accident and DIE on the way there" I said sarcastically seeing if it would lead him to saying even a simple "goodbye". No answer. "Ok, bye father. I am sorry things aren't different." I said as I walked away, as I passed the mantle on the fireplace I noticed a picture my mother had conveniently left behind, it was a family photo from a trip we all took when I was about 13, I picked it up and looked at it closely. We all looked so happy, there was still light in my eyes and love in my parents'. I looked over my shoulder at my father seeing he still had his nose in the paper and I put the picture in my bag I had draped on my shoulder.

I heard my mom honking the horn and looked up at the open door, I looked one last time back at my father before heading out to the front, closing the door behind me and heading down the step. I climbed  in the passenger seat and shut the door putting my bag in my lap and double checking I had my wand. I took the letter I had received from Dumbledore when he found out I was transferring and reviewed over the helpful words he had written to get me familiar with how things worked here. I studied the steps to get there and what to expect upon arrival. Since school had already started three weeks ago I knew I was going to have some catching up to do. I turned the paper over and muttered "aparecium" to myself to reveal the map of Hogwarts he put on the back so I wouldn't stick out like a first year who is lost and has no idea where anything is, even though I didn't have a clue.

" Are you excited?" my mother asked as we continued to drive to the train station. "Not particularly" I said looking out the window as we drove farther and farther away from the town I had spent my whole life in and grown to love. "I think you will find that you love Hogwarts, it's a lovely school according to Albus" she said, trying to get me to be more positive about the situation, but I just continued to stay silent. "Look y/n I know this is hard, it's not easy for me either, but this is a good thing, it's a new chapter for us, and you are going to meet so many new witches and wizards and you're going to make a lot of new memories!" she said looking over at me smiling. "I doubt it," I said trying to focus on anything else but the current situation. "Well I tried if you don't want to see this as a good thing fine, but I wasn't going to stick around with that dirt bag father of yours, I needed to make a choice on what's best for us." She said a hint of anger in her tone at my relentless and stubborn attitude. "I know I'm just sad," I said honestly as we approached the train station. I began to feel a nervous tickle in my chest, and not a good one, not only had I never gone through platform 9 ¾ but I had never even ridden a train. I mean it can't be too scary. Maybe it was the being alone part. "Ok we are here, are you ready?" my mother said parking and smiling at me. "Fuck no."