#but then I might head back in time a little to tackle the x-wing books

[frustrationinexcelsis]

So, I just finished The Last Command, and boy was this a ride.

I’m going to use this post for my thoughts on both the book and the trilogy in general -- and, fair warning, heavy spoilers ahead.

I really enjoyed these books. I tried to pace myself through the last one, but towards the end I just tore through it.

More specific thoughts include:

Luke. Luuuuke. This is how you write Luke Skywalker -- like, if there’s one thing that should stand out from Return of the Jedi, it’s that this man is forgiving to an almost pathologic degree. This is a man determined to see the best in everyone, even if he has to dig through mountains of badness to get to it, and Zahn definitely understood that. It’s especially notable in regards to Joruus C’Baoth -- like, this man is a dangerous, evil lunatic, but what Luke sees is a sick man who needs help. Until the absolute last moment, Luke keeps trying to reach to him and get him to accept help -- for the simple reason that C’Baoth needs help, and Luke can give it to him. It’s obvious to everyone, Luke included, that it’s a long shot, but he keeps trying until C’Baoth’s final breath.

Seriously, this is an ideal to aspire to. If someday I’m quarter as forgiving and empathetic as his version of Luke, I will die happy.

(Some may wonder if I’m a little salty still about how Luke was portrayed in certain works I won’t name.)

(Some may be correct.)

Leia was also great. I love how quickly she saw through Mara’s denial, and seeing her get to show off her Force sensitivity is always a treat.

I also love that Han’s reaction to suddenly finding himself face-to-face with a master of the Dark Side is still to pull out his blaster and try to shoot him. No hesitation, just draw, aim, fire. It didn’t work this time either, but hey -- credit for the attempt!

Mara. Mara. She was wonderfully written. There’s some real interesting writing there in her struggle with her sense of identity and indoctrination by the Emperor. What I found especially interesting is that, between having spent her entire life as the Emperor’s servant and having his last order echoing in her head for the past few years, she has some real trouble with distinguishing between her own desires and the Emperor’s orders -- she’s spent so long with the latter in the former’s place that she’s never had the chance to actually explore her own desires and autonomy. Luke and Leia see through this a lot sooner than she does, but towards the end I think that she’s also in denial -- the impression I get is that, after the life she’s led, starting to think of herself as her own person is alien and intimidating enough that she’s reluctant to make the jump.

Also, going in generally aware of Mara’s status as Luke’s primary EU love interest, I was kind of worried that there’d be a rushed romance arc, and was very glad to find those fears unfounded. There is not so much as a whisper of romance or romantic feelings, or at least nothing that’s explicitly that. The majority of Mara’s page-time is given to establishing her character and working through her narrative arc as she works past her indoctrination and obsession with vengeance, and showing how she comes to eventually like and trust the other protagonists. There is, by the end of The Last Command, clearly some kind of bond between her and Luke -- but there’s nothing really indicating that it’s anything beyond the comradeship that you get between people who have gone through hell and back together. Obviously more is going to come in later books, but Zahn evidently chose to use the series to introduce Mara as a character and build a foundation for whatever future developments may come, and that was absolutely the right call.

(Like, seriously, it takes some good writing to make something like Luke giving Mara his own father’s lightsaber seem like something he would logically do with or without the presence of romantic feelings, but here we are.)

Fey’lya’s part was also unexpected. It does help impress the situation’s gravity when the last book’s shallow, selfish politician stereotype is suddenly so terrified of what Thrawn could do with Palpatine’s old toys that he’s suddenly all business, no political games, just get that mountain destroyed right fucking now.

Thrawn was a memorable villain, for sure. What I found especially interesting about him was how Zahn is careful to build him up as a hypercompetent figure, always in charge, with a plan, and three steps ahead of everyone else -- but partway into book two the reader is shown a major variable, Leia’s relationship to Vader, that Thrawn does not know, a vulnerability he doesn’t plan for. For the entire later half of the trilogy the reader is given a pretty good idea of how exactly Thrawn will fail and of the primary gaping flaw in his carefully tailored grand strategies -- that he’s a genius but not infallible, and that this, this right here, is how it will all come crashing down. I find that very interesting.

Also, in the last few chapters you can practically feel Rukh’s frustration seething through the pages -- he knew exactly what he was doing in that little “stealth exercise” he sprung on Pellaeon. Continuing to stand guard over Thrawn after learning the truth must have been infuriating -- but the Noghri needed vengeance over the Empire, not over Thrawn personally, and he had to wait until he could truly screw the Empire over.

Joruus C’Baoth is... interesting. The impression I got was that he was doomed from the start, in the end -- he was powerful and dangerous, sure, but also unstable, erratic and deluded, too blinded by his ego and delusions to truly understand his enemies, his would-be servants and the world. He was always going to self-destruct or overreach and doom himself some other way; the only questions were the when, the how, and how many people he was going to take down with himself.

C’Baoth is also an interesting exercise in the concept of villain redemption or lack thereof. A hero being willing to offer redemption is all well and good, but it’s only half of the equation; the villain must also accept it. Darth Vader was willing to accept Luke’s hand in friendship when it was offered to him; so was Mara. C’Baoth was not -- he rejected every offer of reconciliation made, and in the end his death was of his own making. The only thing that makes a person truly irredeemable, I think, is their own refusal to accept redemption.

Now of course I’m going to have to deal with my usual depressive mood after finishing a great story, but talking about it always helps... and it was so artistically done.

[seijorhi]

insidious

Hinata Shoyo x female reader (+ Miya Atsumu x female reader)

tw dub-con/non-con, yandere, voyeurism, nsfw, smut but like just a sprinkle

Atsumu’s never considered himself much of a relationship guru, but surely he can’t be the only one who notices there’s something real fuckin’ weird about your relationship with Hinata.

Admittedly, the first few times he met you, he wasn’t paying all that much attention. Sure, you were hot, and he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t snuck a peek every now and then; but his focus has always been on the game, on his teammates. On himself as a setter. It’s why he’s got a strict no girlfriends policy during the season. Atsumu doesn’t do distractions.

And he likes Hinata. On the court, the little dude’s a monster for him to unleash and he’d love him for that alone, but somehow despite being a 5’7” excitable ball of crazy intensity off the court as well, the redhead’s impossible not to get along with. 

There’s a few guys on the team that have partners – fuck, Meian’s even married, his wife five months pregnant with their second kid. But it doesn’t hit him until maybe three or so weeks after Hinata joins the team that he’s never seen any of them (or the ones that came before them) show up at every single training session. 

You do. 

Rain, hail or shine, no matter how early Hinata starts or how late he stays, you’re there, sitting in the stands, just… watching. It’s not a bad thing exactly. He knows Bo thinks it’s cute, gets all moony eyed and sappy about it and Hinata certainly doesn’t seem bothered by it, beaming up at you after every point scored, every successful spike, every receive. 

But it’s just– they train six days a week. It’s long hours and a lot of it’s just drills and exercising till they’re dead on the floor, and even hardcore volleyball fans would find it boring to sit through day in and day out. You don’t take a book or sit there on your phone; you just watch idly as they train. 

Day in, day out. 

There ain’t a rule against it; their practices are closed to the public but the team have a few passes they can hand around on the odd occasion. It’s more of an unspoken understanding; you can invite who you want, so long as you’re focused and they don’t make a fuss.

You never do though, quiet as a mouse as you wait for Hinata to finish up. 

“Don’tcha think it’s weird though?” he asks Sakusa one afternoon, wiping the sweat from his brow as he watches Hinata slump down beside you after practice wraps up, pulling you into a nuzzling embrace.

Sakusa makes a noncommittal noise, but dark eyes regard the two of you nonetheless. “She moved with him from Brazil, didn’t she?” 

Atsumu shrugs, “And?”

“She doesn’t have any friends or family here, no roots, no job, just Hinata,” he says – slowly, like Atsumu’s an idiot. 

And he tries to put himself in your shoes for a minute, imagine what it would be like to follow someone halfway across the world (further actually, because he’s pretty sure you weren’t from Brazil to begin with) but it’s not the same. Even without Samu, or his friends or his family, even in a country with weird customs and a language that wasn’t his own, Atsumu’s always been good at finding his feet. 

But he supposes he can understand why you cling to Hinata. Though it’s really more a case of Hinata clinging to you, ‘cause whenever he turns around, it’s the redhead who’s the one all over you, pulling you into cuddles, twining his fingers with yours, peppering your face with butterfly kisses. Like he’ll just die if he’s not touching you every second you’re together.

It’s either sickeningly cute or revoltingly excessive, and for the life of him Atsumu can’t figure out which. 

You’d think it’s his first relationship or something, that he’s stuck in some weird puppy love honeymoon phase, but from what he’s heard the two of you have been together for years now – that’s just the way Hinata is, apparently.

He shouldn’t be too surprised; the guy’s always first in line to jump on his back or try and tackle him to the floor after any successful play. Between him and Bokuto, he’s got more bruises littered over his body than a linebacker, but they’re a tactile team, and he usually gives as good as he gets. 

You’re not one for excessive PDA though. You never fight against the overbearing affection, don’t shrug it off or shrink away – at least, not from what he’s noticed – but Atsumu hasn’t seen you initiate anything more than a quick peck to his cheek when Hinata’s got you all bundled up in his arms.

And he gets that not every relationship has to be equal in that sense, different love languages and all that crap, but while you don’t fight it, you never seem… entirely comfortable with it either. Not in the ‘stop, we’re in public, please don’t’ kinda way, but–

He can’t put a finger on it. 

You smile at Hinata, cheer when he scores, let him pet and kiss and pull you around wherever he wants, but you never seem to relax properly, and it bothers him. He doesn’t know why it bothers him.

If he hadn’t met you, hadn’t known that you’d been with Hinata since he was dirt poor and moonlighting as a delivery boy in Brazil, he’d be tempted to think that you were only in it for the money. It’s not a bad plan, as far as these things go – find some up and coming athlete to place all your bets on, get him wrapped around your finger before success goes to his head. And he doesn’t know you all that well and has absolutely zero fucking justification to back it up, but you don’t strike him as the money hungry type.

You don’t strike him as anything, and maybe that’s part of the issue.

Hinata’s like a sun; he’s gonna eclipse anyone standing too close. That’s normal. The team; him and Sakusa, Bokuto, the others – they have their own talents to stand on, to push through and shine on their own, but you… 

Fuck, why does it even matter?

Why does it bother him? It ain’t his relationship. You never complain, you make Hinata happy – he’d have to be blind not to see how much that guy loves you – and he dotes on you, spoils the shit out of you, so why can’t he shake this feeling in his gut that something ain’t right there?

It ain’t his relationship, and Atsumu’s not stupid enough to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

It ain’t his relationship.

It’s not, and he has more important things to focus his time and energy on.

You aren’t his problem. Fuck, you’ve barely spoken more than a few sentences to him! There’s no reason for why he can’t get you and your stupid relationship with his wing spiker outta his mind. 

“Just admit ya wanna fuck her and stop bitchin’ about it,” Samu groans one night when Atsumu stops by the restaurant after training. “Yer looking for a problem between the two of them so ya don’t feel guilty about it.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Shut yer trap, wouldja, Samu? I said it ain’t like that!”

He’s not gonna stand there and deny that he thinks you’re hot, but that’s not what this is about. Never has been. 

It’s quiet between them for a moment, Atsumu angrily stabbing at the onigiri on his plate, but he feels it when Osamu looks at him. Really looks, dark eyes flickering across his face, reading him like an open book. Samu might enjoy giving him shit and winding him up just for the sake of it, but there’s nobody on earth who knows him better. 

Eventually he sighs, and the air feels different between them. Heavier, somehow. “What’re ya saying, Tsumu? Ya think Hinata’s hurting her or somethin’?”

Yes. 

No.

He knows Hinata. Well, for a few months at least, but peripherally for years. Ever since high school. And Atsumu’s had the displeasure of knowing guys like that, guys who liked to feel big and tough and strong and would gladly slap around some pretty thing just to feel all manly and shit, and Hinata’s not– 

He doesn’t treat you like you’re made of glass or anything, but every time he touches you, so much as looks at you with those bright eyes, it’s with this kind of intense, burning love that Atsumu just doesn’t understand, that honestly freaks him out a little. He’s never seen bruises littering your skin – at least, not the kind that Samu’s worried about. You don’t flinch away from Hinata’s touch. 

(You never look comfortable though. Never happy – not like Hinata is.)

No. He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t hurt a fly, and despite the lingering unease Atsumu has about the two of you, he doesn’t doubt for a second that Hinata is head over fucking heels in love with you. He wouldn’t hurt you.

He wouldn’t.

“No, ‘course not! I just…” he breaks off, shaking his head. And he chews on his lip for a moment, debating with himself whether he should actually admit what he’s been thinking the past few weeks or whether Samu’s just gonna call him a pussy or something and tell him to knock it off. “I get the feeling she doesn’t wanna be there. She’s smiling and sitting there all pretty, but it’s just… I dunno, it’s just weird.”

Osamu doesn’t say much after that, but he doesn’t really need to. He knows what his brother’s thinking. If you weren’t happy, you’d leave. If Hinata wasn’t treating you right, you’d leave. You’d tell someone. But it ain’t that simple, is it? 

Atsumu’s always had a problem sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. 

The first game of the season’s a slam dunk, and while they’re usually pretty tame during the season, beating Kageyama and Ushijima, last year's undefeated champs is cause for celebration. He’s not surprised to see you there at the club, tucked under Hinata’s arm in some little black dress, all dolled up. You smile at him, a hollow, fleeting thing, and Atsumu hates how the sight of it makes his stomach clench. 

Sakusa, Bokuto and Inunaki arrive moments later, a drink’s shoved into his hands and he forces himself to think of other things. You aren’t his problem, you aren’t his girl, and he’s definitely not watching you dance, your back flush with Hinata’s front, the wing spiker’s hands splayed across your hips, his mouth trailing greedily along your neck. 

And for the first time since this whole stupid thing started, Atsumu recognises the ugly feeling stirring in the pit of his gut. It’s jealousy.

He’s played one of the best games of his life today, his team’s fucking amazing, the music’s good and the alcohol is free flowing – he should be happy. And there’s absolutely no reason he should be watching you out of the corner of his eye, waiting for an opening.

It shouldn’t make his heart skip a beat when Hinata leans down to whisper something in your ear, passing you his glass as he heads off to find the men’s. He’s midway through a conversation of his own with Adriah and Bokuto that he’s barely paying attention to, and there’s a voice in his head (one that sounds suspiciously like Samu’s) that tells him to just let it go, but his feet are already moving, a half hearted excuse spilling from his lips as he slips past them both to make his way over to you.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is too quiet, too breathless to carry across over the music, but he’s taller than you, taking up your space and he isn’t imagining the way that your eyes widen, a flicker of something passing your face before you school your features back into that same fake, pleasant smile. 

He doesn’t imagine the nervous look you dart over his shoulder in the direction Hinata walked off in. 

You take a delicate sip from your glass, the very same one you’ve been nursing since you arrived and he watches – watches – as you force yourself to relax, the tension easing from your shoulders, your posture softening. “Miya,” you greet, raising your voice just enough to be heard. “Congratulations on the win.”

It’s so polite, so fucking fake that it makes him wanna hurl. 

“Atsumu,” he corrects before he can help himself. Sakusa calls him Miya, but nobody else – nobody who knows him – does. He can’t bear the sound of it on your lips, like you’re nothing more than strangers. 

He’s talked to you before, right? Surely. 

You’re just standing there, perfectly at ease around him and the others – if not for the finger tapping anxiously against the stem of your glass, a tic he wonders if you’re even aware of. You might be able to fool the others – admittedly, they’re probably not paying you too much attention – but he’s used to picking up on the smallest details. 

And he’s become real good at reading you these past few weeks.

“So tell me, how’d the two of ya meet?” he asks instead, because he’s rushed in here with no game plan and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t even care about the answer; now that he’s finally here, finally has you to himself for a moment, he just wants to hear you talk. 

“Oh, um,” you swallow, ducking your head so you’re not meeting his gaze anymore. “It’s a little embarrassing–”

A familiar, bright laugh cuts you off, and Atsumu’s heart hammers when Hinata slaps him on the shoulder, “It’s not embarrassing, babe, it’s cute!” 

Deep brown eyes meet his; wide, glittering and freakishly intense and he fights the urge to recoil. He’s done nothing wrong, he knows that, but Hinata’s staring at him like every thought he’s ever had about you is written right across his face, plain as day.

And you – you look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar, like Hinata’s stumbled on you shoving your tongue down his throat rather than just having an innocent, friendly conversation with his teammate. It’s a split second that stretches a lifetime, but when he dares to look over, you’re rigid, eyes wide and full of panic and he knows, he fucking knows that he’s right. 

“Tell him,” Hinata urges, wasting no time in slipping past Atsumu to take his place by your side.

His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing you gently, and after a single, tense beat, you comply. “O-on the first week of my trip to Brazil, I was mugged. Shoyo saw it all happen and chased after them – got my purse back for me, even walked me back home to make sure I was okay, patched me up and everything.” You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you gaze up at Hinata, “He was my knight in shining armour.”

Hinata preens as you smile, but it’s still wrong. Atsumu’s seen what hero worship looks like, what real love looks like, and he’ll hand it to you; you have the basics down pat, but you can’t fake everything. 

With bitterness and disgust eating away at his gut, it becomes suffocating, standing there trying to carry a conversation and pretending that whatever there is between the two of you is in any way fucking romantic–

It’s too much, like somebody has a grip on his lungs, viciously squeezing out the last of his breath, and he barely remembers to excuse himself before he’s shoving his way through the crowd, knocking Meian’s concerned hand away as he flees for the balcony.

The late summer night air’s warm and humid, but he gulps it down in big, gasping heaves, clinging to the rail like it’s a lifeline. 

You’re fucking with his head and he hates it. He hates that he can’t let this go, can’t get you out of his goddamn head no matter how hard he tries. Atsumu’s always been a selfish, arrogant bastard, why should he give two shits about some girl whose last name he doesn’t even know?

He wants to despise you. He wants to forget you, to shove you aside like he has every other distraction in his life. It’s not his problem you’ve found yourself in some fucked up relationship.

But he squeezes his eyes shut, and all Atsumu can see is your face. 

He stays out on that balcony until his body stops shaking, until the sweat on his forehead cools and he no longer feels like he’s gonna throw up. The beat of the music, spilling muted from the glass doors, wraps around him now that the pounding in his head’s subsided, tempting him back inside. Any other night, and he’d follow it, get absolutely shitfaced and party till he doesn’t remember his own name.

And as he stands there alone, staring up at the Tokyo city skyline, part of him almost wants to give in – to drink himself to oblivion. Because at least that’d be easier.

But he won’t.

Instead, Atsumu shoves his feelings down, musters up a lazy smirk and walks back inside. He has every intention of saying goodbye to at least a few of his teammates before heading back to the hotel room to crash, but as his eyes scan the crowded floor, he catches sight of something that stops him cold in his tracks.

Hinata has you pinned to the wall, his face buried in the crook of your neck, but that’s not what makes his heart skip a beat. It’s the way your dress is hiked up, your panties shoved to the side, Hinata’s hand between your thighs, fucking you on his fingers.

It’s the look on your face, screwed up in pleasure – or pain – biting down on your lip to stifle your cries. It wouldn’t make a difference. Nobody would be able to hear you over the music, and even if they could he doubts anyone would give a fuck.

His mouth dries out, every thought eddying from his head as he watches you cling to Hinata, your hands gripping his arms tight. Your makeup’s smudged, a tear spilling down your cheek catches the glittering lights of the club, but when your head tilts back he knows it’s a moan that leaves your lips. He can almost hear it, picture it in his mind. You’re shuddering, shaking your head even as your eyes are squeezed shut and the only sound Atsumu can hear is the restless thumping of his own heart.

And then your eyes flutter open and find his. He watches, frozen in place, transfixed in the worst possible way as mortification flashes across your features and your lips move–

Whatever you say to him, Hinata doesn’t stop. He just shifts a little, angles his body in a way that gives Atsumu a better view of your pussy and the attention he’s paying it. He can’t look away even if he desperately wants to, utterly enthralled by the slickness coating the digits, the way your thighs tremble and quake as those fingers curl inside of you, the little jolt you give when Hinata’s thumb rubs at your puffy clit.

Atsumu watches, equal parts horrified and mesmerised as he pushes you over the edge and you cum for him, a pleasured cry drowned out by the music, shaking and breathless and beautifully wrecked in his teammate’s arms. And as you all but collapse against him, Hinata finally turns to glance over his shoulder, meeting Atsumu’s stare.

And with his eyes fixed on the blonde, he whispers something into your ear that Atsumu doesn’t have a hope in hell of hearing, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek and grins.

It’s enough to rip him out of his stupor, stumbling back with a gasp as his blood runs cold. Hinata knew, he knew he was watching – put on a fucking show for him, and suddenly the nausea returns, bile creeping up his throat and Atsumu can’t do a single thing but turn and flee.

Alone in his hotel room and not nearly drunk enough, he falls into a fitful sleep, the image of your face, tear stricken and beautiful as you fell to pieces on Hinata’s fingers, burned into the back of his eyelids. 

—

He doesn’t utter a word about it when Boktuo gives him shit for ducking out early the next day at training. He doesn’t so much as meet Hinata’s eye, though the redhead seems no different than usual, all but bouncing on his heels when the Coach runs through the game against the Adlers set by set.

He still gushes when Atsumu gives him a perfect set, beaming up at him with that thousand watt smile. He still offers to be paired off with him when they run two-on-two games, isn’t ruffled when Atsumu instead grabs Sakusa and goes up against Adriah and Barnes.

And you’re still sitting in the stands, fingers twined on your lap, smiling dutifully whenever your boyfriend glances up.

Atsumu tries his best to ignore you and focus on training. He can’t afford to let you distract him any more than you already have, but in the quiet moments between sets, on their breaks, every second he’s not thinking about the game and his performance and his team his thoughts drift back to you. The way you’d bitten down on your bottom lip. Your eyes, pupils blown wide as pleasure crashed through you. Your glistening cunt, swallowing up Hinata’s fingers. The cute little noises you made – the ones he couldn’t hear but spent all fucking night imagining.

And the moment those thoughts enter his head, he can’t stop himself from darting a quick glance towards you, like he’s making sure you’re still there, that you’re okay. Even if you stiffen almost imperceptibly every time he does.

He can’t help himself, and he’s not the only one who notices. 

“Dude, you good?” Bokuto asks, pulling him aside a week or so later during one of their water breaks. And for a second there, there’s a flicker of indignation – whatever’s going on with his head, his performance is beyond question; he’s killing it. 

It’s not until the wing spiker’s attention shifts, risking a glance over his shoulder to where he knows you’re sitting that he realises that’s not what Bokkun’s worried about.

“Look, I get it, she’s cute and all, but…” Bokuto trails off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck. Every ounce of discomfort is written clear as day across his face. “You might wanna tone it down a bit, you know? For everyone’s sake.”

The irony of it all doesn’t escape him. And he probably should feel some kinda shame, because if Bokuto’s noticed then that means every goddamn one of the others has too and they’re all just too uncomfortable to say anything, but he can’t seem to muster it. 

“Yeah,” he croaks out instead.

Two days later he’s halfway through a shower when the stall beside his bursts open and he hears that familiar, sunny laugh, the sound of two bodies clambering into a space too small, and his heart stutters in his chest.

“Sho, no. I-I don’t wanna–”

“Shh, be good for me, alright baby? Please?” 

A drawn out hiss followed by a breathy moan, and Atsumu’s bracing himself against the tiled wall squeezing his eyes shut.

The spray of the shower isn’t loud enough to drown out the sounds of you swallowing down Hinata’s cock. And he can’t move, can’t make a sound for fear of making this worse, but with every lewd, messy gluck from your throat, every obnoxious moan that spills from his teammate’s lips, Atsumu feels that telltale stirring in his gut.

His eyes are closed and the image comes unbidden to his mind.

You on your knees, looking up at him with those big, wide innocent eyes. You, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cock, your tongue slowly trailing along the thick vein that runs along the underside of his shaft. The way it’d swirl around his flushed head, eagerly lapping at his precum. Fuck, his cock’s already throbbing, aching. 

He’s only human, he thinks as he wraps a hand around his member, teeth sinking into the flesh of his forearm to stifle his groan. You’re making a mess of him, he wants it so fucking bad. Wants you; to fuck you, have you, hold you, he doesn’t give a shit anymore, you’re driving him to the brink and he’s helpless to stop this.

He can see it so perfectly in his head, how you’d look with those soft lips wrapped around him, the way you’d massage his balls as he fucked your face, how you’d choke on it. You’d be good, so fucking perfect as you sucked him off–

Hinata’s chanting your name and Atsumu picks up his pace, strokes turning into pumps, his fist tightening as he hisses with pleasure. Distantly he wonders whether they can hear it too; his heavy breathing, the slick, wet sound of him jerking off less than a foot away.

He doesn’t care anymore, can’t hold himself back. It’s blinding, the pleasure that rips through him, shaking him to his very core as spurt after spurt of thick, hot cum paints the shower walls.

His knees buckle, his cock still twitching as aftershocks jolt through him, stealing his breath. For a blissful moment, Atsumu lets himself sag against the tiles, a lazy smirk coating his face as he basks in the afterglow, his heartbeat slowly coming down from it’s racing high. 

And yet as the warm water of the shower cascades down his toned body, his breathing returning to normal something unpleasant begins to unfurl in his stomach, toxic and cloying, seeping through his veins. All that bliss, that heady, addictive pleasure fades away and Atsumu’s left with the weight of what he’s just done.

Distantly, he registers that it’s quieter now in the stall next to his. Hinata’s murmuring something to you, but Atsumu can’t make sense of it over the dull roar in his head, the disgust and shame that coils like a noose around his throat.

He should hate himself. 

He just might, actually.

And it’s not enough to scrub until his skin’s raw and he doesn’t feel it crawling anymore, doesn’t matter that he stays in the shower until the two of you leave, until the water runs ice cold and it physically hurts to stand under the spray.

Hinata’s still in the locker room when he gets out, slowly gathering the last of his things and shoving them into his duffle bag. For once you’re not by his side, and Atsumu can only thank whatever godly beings might be out there for this one, tiny mercy, because he doesn’t think he can bear to see you after what he’s just done.

But Hinata just smiles, bright and cheerful and all too knowing, “Seeya tomorrow, Atsumu!”

And he feels filthy all over again.

[sparkbeast20]

You’re my Treasure (Mammon X MC) Pt14

The Blue Lotus petals (series)

As a fan of Beauty X Beast pairing, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. Heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I’ll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them.

(spoiler for lesson 1-60)

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 Pt8 Pt9 Pt10 Pt11 Pt12 Pt13

Warning: Swearing, Demonic nature.

Previously

“Make sure you save some for the three, we wouldn’t want to be in their bad side, if they came back hungry and expecting food waiting for them.” Belphie tells the others, and thinking what taking the older brothers too long to get back.

“So…… The question is Leviathan, are you willing to use that book. Just because we’re near a lake that doesn’t mean you can fit in it! Remember your form is the biggest out of the seven of us”

“I. DON’T. CARE! you two can’t get along even in old selves, Now I WILL use this if I have to.”

Just on Lucifer’s first reaction on seeing Levi hold the book, Mammon immediately knows that book is something shouldn’t be use lightly.

Lucifer and Mammon both have the same thought. GET THAT BOOK AWAY FROM LEVI! Lucifer can talk Levi out of this, while Mammon is waiting for a moment to strike.

Lucifer took a deep breath, and calm himself and stood straight, and reach out with his hand at Levi “Levi, give me that book….” As he slowly walks towards him but then a voice screams at him

Don’t beg you fool

Every ounce of his mental and emotional control is slowly slipping away.

“Leviathan…... PLeASE….” He’s voice started to fluctuate from his normal to his demonic one, trying to hold his frustration of this whole situation he grins his teeth so hard that it starts to bleed as he waits for Levi to hand over the book. He was hesitant for a moment but seeing Lucifer like this, hurt him.

As he about to hand over the book, in a spilt second Mammon tackle and pined Levi on the ground, leaving the book on the ground as Mammon main focus was making sure that Levi didn’t utter a word of the spell from the book and end up like Lucifer. Speaking of which.

“MAmmON……” Both brothers quickly whip their head toward the eldest “WaTcH….. OveR …..ThEM….”

“Lucifer! What are you? ~” before he could finish, a shadow engulfs Lucifer as he sinks into the ground, Mammon quickly knows what’s going and rushes to stop him from leaving.

In that moment Mammon can see a tear fall from the corner of his brother’s eye and mouthed I’m sorry, before complete disappearing into the shadows.

He was too late, once he got there the shadow disappear under his feet. Mammon shrike at ground where Lucifer was standing a second and start digging into it, hoping find Lucifer.

“Lucifer. Lucifer. LUCIFER!!! You can just do this! LEAVE!!” all the emotion of not wanting be near him were instantly gone and replace with worry, anger towards himself and desperation to keep Lucifer from leaving them.

After ten minutes of digging a hole that can fit a person in Mammon stop and pants heavily, not because of digging he did but with his heart is beating fast and need to calm himself.

This isn’t what he wanted; he wants space away from his brothers so he could finish this whole thing. Not Lucifer leaving and dealing with demonic self on his own, and not tell him or Levi where his going. And there’s Levi who he took a quick side glance to see how’s his little brother is doing; not great, Levi has both hands at his eyes pushing the palms into them trying to hold back the tears and failed at it as he lay on his back blaming himself for was happening.

“I can’t have Levi like this, crap Lucifer, you pompous ass! you’re really leavin’ me in charge in like this!” he refuses to let this happen, sure at times he wandered what would happen if Lucifer disappeared, and he was left in charge. In short no so good, he can’t imagine all the responsible and work goes with not to mention, the others won’t listen to him. He might not say it or denied it but he would tell Lucifer that he is first born for a reason and he accepted that.

Right now, he has to step up and fix this. First, he has to change back, the question is how?

All he remembers what the beast said to him, that its going take time to change back, but maybe could try, at least he can try.

He tries to focus on changing back, like the way he did in his demon form. Then he felt a slight pain on his arm and stop for a moment.

“Shit! That hurt, but I think it’s workin’ I just have to bear with it. I can do this!!”

He went back on focusing on changing back, by each pasting second, he can feel his bones shifting and the wings on his arms which has been there for a week, slowly moving on its own like it use to then without warning his arms and wings tore apart from each other causing him shrike in pain catching the attention of Levi, who was shock and called out to Mammon, but he keeps going. Soon he stood on his hind legs and his body started to shirk a little bit, and with one final break his back straight up and he fell on all four exhausted from the change, he pants to catch his breath.

Levi quickly rushes over to Mammon’s side and start rubbing his back to comfort him.

“Mammon, a-are you, o-okay?”

“Yeah…... I’m-I’m okay” startle Levi quickly stumble back and start stuttering

“You-you-you c-c-c-can t-t-t-t-t-talk!?!” confuse Mammon raise his arm and shock that his talon is more human, then he quickly got up and pant his body to check. He did it…... well almost, he’s still in his demonic form, but closer to his regular demon form with his body more humanoid and his wings aren’t attached to his arms anymore. Then he tries to feel his face, and his eyes narrow in disappointment to feel that he still has a beak on his face.

“You got- Whatever…… YOU!” Mammon turns and points at Levi who stiffed by that “I’m gonna kill ya once this all over, right let’s get back to the others, we need their help to find Lucifer”

Before Levi could respond, Mammon flaps his wings and start flying and swooping grab him by the shoulder in second start heading back to the cave with Levi screaming his lungs out.

“G’AAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

You, Asmo, and Beel are examining all the things in Mammon’s treasure cavern while Belphie is sleeping in the nest and Satan in waiting outside of the cave for the three older brothers to come back.

“I haven’t fabric like this in centuries, I don’t why Mammon was collecting them and just stashing them here in this old, filthy, and dark place like this”

“I’m surprise that these things survive after centuries has past” you add to Asmo chatter, while looking at old statues of Mammon’s demonic form. “So…… what Mammon and I saw almost a month ago…... that was you guys in your true forms?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say “true forms” but more Demonic form” Asmo hesitant to answer your question fully, with Belphie chuckling at Asmo in his sleep.

“y/n, has Mammon ever hurt you when you two are alone?” Beel asks as he stare at the claw marks around the cavern.

“Well, he did pounce and pinned me down, after he transformed, but the he started cooing at me and preening my hair. Like he was happy to see me, even after he change, which I want to say, wasn’t what I want to see again anytime soon”

“That’s strange? We are always feral and violent toward human in those form, I mean that’s way there’s bones and skull scatter all over the floor” Asmo point at a skull near your feet, then quietly step away from it.

“Okay, get that, but why Mammon acted like that to me?”

“Maybe…... you’re an exception because you two are a couple” Asmo comment causing you blush and try to hide it.

“No, that can be it, I mean your demons surly you don’t have the concept of what like mates or something”

“I don’t know about that, Mammon really made sure that you didn’t wake up when he tries to leave this morning. Maybe it can happen, he did bring you here where all his treasure is safe, it could mean he sees you as something precious to him even if his in that state of mind”

Before you could say something, you heard Levi scream above you, causing all of you expect for Belphie to look up to the hole of the cavern, then you saw a humanoid white crow who is carrying Levi flew in and drop Levi on to a sleeping Belphie who groans in pain of sudden body drop on him, and Crow monster landed beside.

“Mammon!?! You could have at least gotten a bit closer than that!” Levi yelled at Crow monster.

“If ya hadn’t scream all the way here, I would’ve been more~”

“Mammon…...”

The thing turns his head towards you, even from afar you can tell who it was.

“Y/n…...” Mammon face soften, as his voice whisper your name, in a gentle and low tone. After hearing what that form is and what it can do from his brothers, your heart start beating fast hearing Mammon’s voice again after a week of cooing, purring and squawking. And now he looks closer to his normal self, you couldn’t help but start tearing up. You ran towards Mammon who open he’s arms welcoming you.

Once close enough to him, you jump and wrap your arms around his neck, as you nuzzle your face on his feathery neck.

“Mammon, I-I can’t believe it, you can talk and-and~”

“Shh…. It’s okay, its me. I’m fine” he uses one arm to support your body, and the other at you back embracing you close to him.

“How?” he pulled away to look you in the eye.

“It’s Lucifer”

“So, what your saying is that are, our dear older brother just ran- vanish into the shadow with the book of the sins, and said to “Watch over them” to you and not Levi”

“HEY! As much I wanted to hear those words from him, I don’t want the responsibility of looking after ya and them. Satan, and beside I came he to asks for help. I don’t know want to do or even a way to find him”

All look worried at what they just heard from Mammon and Levi about Lucifer little disappearing act, as he, Satan, Belphie and you are thinking to how to find the first born.

While Levi and Asmo are pacing around the nest with Beel stomping his foot on it, distracting themselves from worry of losing Lucifer.

“Can we track him down, by scent?” you tell them the first thought you had.

“Babe, I can’t track him by smelling him. I’m not a sniffer”

“But Beel is!?!” everyone stops what they were doing and look over to Satan.

“I can do that; all I need is something that has his scent”

“You mean this” Mammon shows a fabric of Lucifer’s clothes “it been stuck in my claw and I tackle him on the ground, when I…... got piss off at him for nagging at me”

Mammon hand over the fabric to Beel, and took a whiff of it, and start following the trail.

“Wait!” Beel stop and turned around to see who stop him. “What happens if we do find him” Belphie asks, knowing fully well that there should have a way to trap or subdue him.

Mammon though that by this time Lucifer could have finish the spell and his fully changed at this point, judging for experience he knows how dangerous these forms are, especially Lucifer.

“I can use my pact with him” you snap Mammon out of he’s train of thought.

“WHAT!?! No! yer not coming with us”

“I can sit around and do nothing” you argue at him, then he snarls in annoyance of your stubbornness.

“y/n that’s just a temporary solution. We need is to make sure that he doesn’t go anywhere but here in the woods” Satan voice his concern on your idea.

“I’ll keep him here” Mammon said causing all of you to look at him in shock.

“Mammon you can’t~”

He places a hand on the side of your face as he looks at you deeply with his demonic eyes, which felt both terrifying and warmth at the same time.

“Y/n if he’s the same at me where I was about a week ago, he just needs to control this. And if that’s means keep him company for a week or so. Then I’m willing to do that” without any other option you eventually nod and lean closer to his palm.

“Okay, now here’s the Plan” Satan start discussing about how to trap Lucifer and make sure that he and Mammon stay in one place and not make the same mistake as before.

[amara-scott]

Confessions

Movie: Harry Potter (Maurauders Era) Characters: Remus Lupin x Reader Categories: Fluffy and Sweet

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It was a cold winter morning when Lilly woke me up to join her at breakfast. I groggily complied, following her without having exchanged a word. I am not a morning person. And she very much knows that. But she is my friend and leaving her to go alone on a Saturday morning would be too cruel. Simply because of one person. James Potter- we all know they are meant to be. They are both just too stubborn. Well, Lilly is. James would marry her right there and then.

"Thanks again, (y/n), you know I can't handle him. Especially not in the mornings." I just smirk, nodding.

But my smirk is wiped off my tired face as soon as I catch a glimpse of Remus. Remus Lupin. Aka the death of me. Those brown locks and shy smile drive me mad. Sure I didn't tell anybody, everyone would make fun of me for it. Just like they do with Potter and Evans. Besides, I know he doesn't feel the same. He has a huge crush on that Gryffindor Girl that has luscious golden locks and full, pouty lips. It's hopeless, really. But Lilly has other plans as she drags me with her, right up to the Marauders.

"Good morning, beautiful Lilly-flower. How did you sleep?" There's the reason why I'm here.

"Shut it Potter, not today." Lilly mutters as she sits down opposite him and pulls me down next to her. Her small blush obvious to everyone. I sit down. Right next to Remus. I try not to show my excitement. Or how nervous I've gotten all of a sudden. And definitely not turn toward him.

It must have been too forced which is why Sirius sends a smirk my way. I raise an eyebrow in return.

“Why so tense, (Y/N)? Can’t handle the beauty in front of you? You seem overwhelmed-“

“Actually, let me stop you right there, Sirius. Nothing of the above.” Remus chuckles next to me but it turns into a muffled cough, which catches my attention and I can’t help and turn too look at him. The first time I really do today. And a sense of hurt fills me as I see his scared face. Another rough night. I lift a hand to touch his shoulder but decide against it mid-air.

“Remus, are you alright?” He doesn’t glance back just pokes at his food and still holding a fist to his lips after the cough. He shakes his head and ignores my question. I frown and turn back forward, trying to feel hungry. Actually, trying to feel anything but a void in my stomach. And hurt. He never ignored me. Sure, he is frank sometimes and maybe doesn’t always looks me in the eye when we talk but- he never once ignored me.

“Soo, are we going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” James asks, trying to cut the tension at the table but I can’t hold it in anymore and am scared they will see my glossy eyes.

I shake my head and stand up briefly. “Sorry.” I speed walk down the table and out of the Great Hall. I only stop once I reached the common room and decide to sit on the couch until classes would start. Who needs food anyway. I bury my head in a book and nearly miss to leave for our first class. Potions. Funny enough this is the only class I usually sit next to Remus because James sat next to Lilly the first time. Now I slow down my walk and hope he might have switched seats. When I enter though Remus is glancing around until his eyes land on me. I freeze for a second but gulp down my nerves and take my usual seat next to him.

It’s quite for a while. I don’t look over and he doesn’t say anything. Not even raising his hand when I can clearly see he did his homework and knows the correct answer.

A paper ball lands on his side of the desk which catches my attention. I don’t want to be nosey so I don’t try to read what’s written there. But I get where it must have come from by the look he is sending over to Sirius. Sirius gestures wildly at him, looking stern and I frown until he points over to me and our eyes meet- he quickly whips his hand up and ruffles his hair, sending me an awkward smile with a wave. Then turns back around.

I frown but don’t question it any further, trying to also ignore the eyes I feel on the side of my face. I Scribble down on my parchment but can’t help and notice Remus clearing his throat a couple times. After the third time I sigh and glance up. He’s wringing his fingers below the table and his eyes dart up as he sees me looking up. His eyes growing wide for a second before he sends me a small, uneasy smile.

“Hey.” He whispers. I can’t help but let my gaze linger on the scar below his eye. It looks painful and I quickly relax my face as I notice I’ve been cringing at him.

“Hi.” I reply and have to send a smile back. I can’t stop myself. He does that to me. Goofball. I am about to turn back to our task as he opens his mouth, inhaling- as if to say something. But he stops himself.

I raise a brow at him and wait. “What’s up?” Is add, trying to encourage him to keep going.

“I- I just-“ he smiles down at his hands and turns toward me slightly, “-I wanted to apologize. You probably think I’m absolutely rude and, and insufferable-“

He wants to ramble on but I glance up to the podium to see McGonogall sending us a suspicious look. I turn back to Remus, taking one of his fidgety hands and he stops talking, looking down at our hands.

“Remus, it’s okay. I still like you- let’s get back to work and talk later, alright?” I give him another small smile and he sighs, sending one back, nodding.

It took a short moment longer before I let go off his hand and turn back forward. I shield my warm cheeks from his view with my hair covering them now. The grin on my face suppressed.

___

“So- who’s up for a ride on our magnificent sled this fine evening?” James asks as he rounds the couch of the common room where Lilly and I sit, reading and talking. Our eyes go up to him as Sirius joins his side, throwing an arm over his shoulder and sending us mischievous smile. I roll my eyes and glance over to Lilly who’s sighing. But she wears a smile, her eyes finding mine.

“What do you say?” She asks me and I shrug my shoulders, standing up and throwing the book onto the soft cushioned couch.

“Why not, it’s beautiful outside.”

“Remus is coming as well~” Sirius is singing teasingly as he walks off with James to get ready, but not without winking at me over his shoulder. My eyes grow wide at his remark. Does he know? I tried really hard to hide that crush.

“-(Y/N)? Let’s go, come on.” Lilly pulls me out of my trance and pulls me after her at my sleeve.

“So, what’s that with you and Remus?” She asks, a small grin on her lips.

“What do you mean? Nothings going on.” I reply, maybe too quickly because Lilly sends me another big goofy grin and I roll my eyes, as she rummages through her stuff, throwing a beanie at me and one of her gryffindor scarfs.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” She mumbles and we jog back down to the common room, waiting for the boys.

As they join us, James picks up a squealing Lilly and runs ahead. Sirius carries the sleds and nods at us. “See you there, losers.” He runs off as well, yelling after them. Now it’s just Remus and me. Peter needed to rest, he’s been sick for a few days already, enjoying his peace in Madame Pomfrey’s Medical Wing.

“Are you going anywhere special this Christmas?” I ask, trying to cut the tension I felt growing. I loved that we quietly, without saying a word, decided not to run after them. We kept walking normally.

“No, just staying home, what about you?” I bury my hands deep in my pockets as we step outside, the wind instantly blowing across our skin.

“No, neither do we. My grandparents are coming over this year tho, so- that will be interesting.” I mumble and he chuckles, I glance up at him.

“I couldn’t hear what you were saying.” I realize I’ve talked into my scarf and push it down a little, my face now warm anyway.

“Hey! Watch out-“ I can’t even look at the source of the voice when a snowball hits me right on the cheek. I stumble, squeezing my eyes shut but Remus holds me before I slip.

I blink my eyes open, Remus wiping at my cheek, frowning. “Are you alright?” I nod quickly, staring into his warm eyes.

“Guys, come on!” Sirius whines and runs over.

“Seriously, be more careful Sirius.” Remus mumbles, quite annoyed as he turns to him, his hand leaving my hair, where he had also tried to get the snow wiped away.

“Aw, are you mad I threw snow at your girlfriend?” He smirks and folds his arms. I stare at the icy ground now and Remus says something under his breath while bending down and collecting a pile of snow, Sirius quickly runs off and giggles. Remus runs after him, holding his beanie as it’s slipping off.

“Get back here, Black!”

I hide my smile behind the scarf and walk toward where Lilly is watching James, who seems to struggle with a spell. He rearranged his glasses, his cheeks slightly tinted pink as he sends a shy smile over to Lilly. “I nearly got it.”

“Hey, why aren’t you sledding yet?” I ask as I join Lilly’s side.

“James wanted to make the sled bigger so- more people could fit on. But-“

“-I nearly got it, okay?” He clears his throat again and gulps. He gets so flustered, trying to prove himself to Lilly. It’s absolutely adorable. “Enlargio!”

I take a step back and Lilly follows suit. The sled grows in size, not too much either. Well, I guess successful?

“See?” He smirks and gestures toward his accomplishment. Lilly claps, her mittens muting the sound.

“Well done, you mighty wizard.” I add and he glares over, taking a pile of snow quickly. I hold my hands up.

“Sorry, sorry, please don’t- I already got enough snow in my face for today.” He chuckles and we look over to Remus still running after Sirius, he finally tackles him to the ground and pushes a snowball into Sirius’ face. We all laugh at the scene and walk over, up the hill.

“Hey, let poor Sirius go, I think he learned his lesson.” Lilly states and I nod, smirking at Remus as he stands up, out of breath, just as Sirius.

The latter stands up too, wiping himself off the snow and flares at Remus.

“What was that for anyway?” James asks and Sirius smirks through his white lashes.

“Yeah, Remus, what for?”

“I just- just don’t be so rude to-“

“-to, (Y/N)?” Sirius finishes for him and I roll my eyes, Remus sighing.

“Yes.” He grits out and I raise a brow at them both. They are standing now, facing each other again, Remus looking ready to throw another snowball if Sirius kept talking. And Sirius- well he just doesn’t know when to stop.

“Why don’t you just tell her that you like her? Maybe then I’ll stop.” He grabs more snow and strides my way, throwing a look over his shoulder at Remus. I shriek and turn, running away. But I am no way as fast as he is. He grabs me around my waist with one arm and lifts me up, laughing as I try to wriggle free. He holds his other hand close to my face, turning us to face the others.

“Come on Remus, you know what to do-“

“Sirius, stop, I’m gonna get sick-“

“I like her, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Don’t tell me, Remus, tell her-“ Sirius turns me further and I stop struggling, looking at Remus. He seems in conflict but shuts is eyes for a moment. When he looks back at me he gulps and steps forward.

“I- I really like you. A lot.” I want to throw my scarf and beanie off, that’s how hot I got and run toward him. Telling him I feel the same. But before I can even say anything I feel cold snow. My eyes back closed. I step on his foot now causing Sirius to finally let me go.

Remus is by my side once again and helps me with the snow. “I’ll kill him.” He whispers and runs his thumb across my cheek.

“You may. But- not without-“ I lean up and holds his face as I press a kiss to his lips. Brief but all I needed to tell him I return the feelings. He smiles down at me, his face now warm and eyes lingering on my lips and back up my eyes.

“I’ll be right back.” He adds quietly and runs around me, Sirius not noticing at first so they both stumble to the ground and throw snow at each other.

Lilly walks up and James follows suit. “Well, that took longer than expected- I owe Peter 5 galleons now.” I whip my head toward him and frown, he looks back at me, startled. “Did I say that out loud?” I nod at him. “Oh oh.” He turns around and runs off, me hot on his heels and Lilly joins me.

“Come back here, Potter!”

_________________________________

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[votederpycausemufins]

Rustic House Club chapter 2

Jrum had a crayon in one hand as he laid on the ground, drawing on a blank map. “Okay, then which way?”

Jrum’s friend had been helping him make a fun treasure map to play with today. It had been something they had suggested before and now it seemed like the perfect time.

“Well, from the sign platform, you’ll go down to the big doors on the mansion in front of you.”

The robot nodded as he drew a line going to a sketch which he made look like his dad’s mansion. “Then what?”

“That’s the end! You’ll find something really cool there! Even better than a rustic house!”

“What could be so good that you think it’s better than a rustic house?” Jrum asked his friends with a giggle.

“It’s a surprise!”

“Well, okay then! I’m gonna go tell my dads what I’m doing and then I’ll start!”

Jrums friend agreed and Jrum headed back to the mansion, glad to find his dad there and not out at the shopping district or somewhere else. “Daaaad!”

“Hi Jrum. Are you done playing already?”

Jrum shook his head. “No, my friend and I made a treasure map and I’m gonna go looking for the treasure at the end!”

“Is that so?” Grian asked. “Can I see your treasure map?” Jrum handed him the paper and he looked over it. It wasn’t really that legible to him, but he saw the start and end points being the magic village and the mansion, so it seemed fine. He handed the map back and patted Jrum on the head. “Alright. Remember to stay safe and call me or your daddy if you need help, okay?”

Jrum nodded before running off again, returning to the village and then following the path. The hardest part of the journey was through the nether. His dads haven’t figured out how to make special elytra that would work for him and his brother since their bodies were much heavier than what the wings could deal with at their size. He was careful as he built up to the path on the map. After that, it was just a really long walk with a surprising amount of bees. This was the nether, why were there so many bees in this tunnel?

Finally, Jrum reached the end of the tunnel. He checked his battery level which was rather low, so he ate one of his snacks - some charged redstone dust - before continuing. It took a bit of scaffolding, but eventually Jrum got down to a platform hanging over the lava lake of the cavern. It was hung up by chains that looked sturdy, but it still made Jrumbot a little wary. 

But it wasn’t like he needed to stay there too long, as right in front of it, just a chunk or two away, was a mansion. It looked just like his dad’s, except it was red instead of blue. Also it was built completely upside down. 

Jrum nervously looked around, making sure there were no ghasts around, before he started to bridge out towards the building. The minute he heard even the distant cry of a ghast, he booked it back to the little hanging platform and make sure everything was safe again before continuing. 

After many minutes and one close call with a ghast later, Jrum reached the door of the mansion. He struggled a little pushing it open, but eventually managed. Jrum was expecting some kind of prize or treasure at the end. Maybe a stack of diamond blocks piled up. Or maybe even some netherite. It could have been something fun to explore. Or anything really. Instead the place looked mostly empty and somewhat abandoned. There were the remains of an incomplete farm in one area of the building, but otherwise, there wasn’t much.

Jrum closed the door behind him and made a safe area for himself before letting himself fall to the ground. He laid on his back, staring up at the roof - floor? - for around a minute before he started crying in frustration. He had come all this way and for nothing! He thought maybe for a second, it might have been the building itself that was the prize, but that would just rub in how bad of a builder he was. But his friend had said to go inside the building, so it should have been some other prize.

Once Jrum had exhausted himself enough, he sat back up and started to send a message to his dad. He was so frustrated, he didn’t notice two important things. The first was the person coming up behind him. The second was his battery which was giving him a warning with it in the low single digits. But Jrum was too focused on getting home.

<Jrumbot> Dad. I finished my treasure hunt, but there wasn’t anything at the end. I’m really far away and tired. Can you please come g

Jrum wasn’t able to finish writing the message out before he heard a noise close behind him. He whirled around to see someone. It was his dad! “Dad! I wanna go home! There wasn’t anything here!”

Then the person moved forward and Jrum froze. At a glance it looked like his dad, but looking again, it wasn’t. His eyes weren’t the right color and he seemed to have metallic plating on his face. Along with that he didn’t seem to move quite right, all his movements having a jittered and halting form of movement.

“Y-You’re not dad…” Jrum pushed himself back a little in fear and then also noticed his battery level. 1%. Jrum didn’t have time to make a new message, so he quickly added what he could before sending it with the last bit of energy he had. And then, he powered off, collapsing to the ground.

Grian had completely lost track of time while working in Aqua Town. He had just finished up renovating his new buildings when his comm buzzed. It pulled him out from hyper-focusing on building and caused him to look around. He looked out the window to see it was well past midnight. 

He was so sure the message was likely Mumbo asking him where he was and that the kids were worried, so Grian packed up his stuff and flew back home. Once he arrived at the mansion, he put all his shulkers down before going upstairs. The avian looked in the bedrooms to find them all empty. That was fine. Mumbo had likely put them to sleep at his base.

Grian grabbed something quick to eat before flying to the ancient monument, easily finding Mumbo who was just in his storage area. Grian carefully snuck up on the redstoner, trying to be as quiet as possible, though he also couldn’t help humming as he approached.

Mumbo finally noticed the humming and froze with what he was doing to pay more attention. “Why do I hear boss music?” His question was quickly answered by Grian tackling him from behind and pinning him to the ground. “Grian!”

“Sorry! You just looked so lost in thought and I couldn’t help it!” The avian laughed before helping Mumbo back to his feet. “Thanks for getting the boys to sleep. I completely lost track of time. I hope Jrum wasn’t too bad tonight.”

The smile on Mumbo’s face turned to a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Huh?”

“I thought Jrum was with you. I only put Grum to bed.”

“But Jrum wasn’t at the mansion. M-Maybe he snuck into bed here?”

Mumbo didn’t answer. He just ran with Grian to the bots’ bedroom. There they found only one of the beds occupied. Grian’s wings puffed up immediately when they saw the sight, which nearly knocked over Mumbo, but he wasn’t complaining about that.

“Mumbo, you look around here and I’ll check the mansion again. If you find anything, message me. If not we check Scar’s village and Jrum’s houses, got that?”

The redstoner nodded and then Grian was in the air, flapping his wings as fast as he could to get back to the mansion. He scoured the place from top to bottom. The boys’ bedroom? Empty. His room? No one there. The basement bed? Nothing but cows. The nest? Barely there since it had mostly been disassembled.

Grian took a second look around just in case before pulling out his comm to tell Mumbo which place he was headed to next. But before he could, he noticed a message from Jrum. Grian breathed a sigh of relief. If only he had checked sooner. Jrum was likely saying where he was. Probably one of his houses or even with another hermit.

But then Grian’s brow furrowed with confusion that quickly turned to worry. He didn’t just have a message from Jrum. He also had a status message. Shortly after the incident with Grum and Iskall, Mumbo had added one last thing to the bots. It would send messages on the boys if something happened that was a cause for concern.

Grian opened up the message for Jrum first. Maybe that would explain it. Maybe what happened was he lost track of time too and shut himself down to conserve power. That would be the best case scenario. As Grian started to read the message, he was sure that’s what was going on. But his heart dropped when he got to the end.

<Jrumbot> Dad. I finished my treasure hunt, but there wasn’t anything at the end. I’m really far away and tired. Can you please come gHELP! There’s someone scary and I’m out of power!

Grian then looked at the other message. If Jrum had powered down. It would have his coordinates. He read it, and then his heart managed to drop even more.

[Bot Status] Jrum lost power at X Y Z in the nether dimension.

The nether. The Nether! Why was Jrum in the nether?! His hands trembled as he tried to message Mumbo, but instead he just selected the world chat. That was probably okay. He might wake a few people, but this was an emergency that could need help.

<Grian> Mumbo, have you looked at your status messages?

<MumboJumbo> No let me do that

<MumboJumbo> The nether?!

<Renthedog> What about the nether?

<Xisuma> Do you mean status as in the messages you get for the bots?

<Grian> YES

<Iskall85> Oh no. What about the nether?

<MumboJumbo> It says that Jrum completely lost power while in the nether

<Xisuma> What were the coordinates?

<Grian> He also sent a message before he powered off that’s really concerning

<MumboJumbo> X Y Z

<StressMonster> What was the message?

<Grian> It was the start of one he almost sent before which was a normal one

<Xisuma> Let me check where that is

<Iskall85> What was the message

<StressMonster> Grian?

<MumboJumbo> Give him a second, he’s probably trying to copy it down.

<Grian> Dad. I finished my treasure hunt, but there wasn’t anything at the end. I’m really far away and tired. Can you please come gHELP! There’s someone scary and I’m out of power!

<Renthedog> Oh that is not good

<MumboJumbo> Is that the only message?

<Grian> Yeah.

<Xisuma> Those coordinates are within the upside down.

<Grian> How’d he manage to get all the way out there?!

<Xisuma> Because this is an emergency, I can teleport the two of you there.

<MumboJumbo> Please!

<Grian> PLEASE

Grian put his comm away and watched as the purple energy from Xisuma’s admit powers surrounded him for a moment. The next moment, he, Mumbo and X were standing in the interior of the red mansion.

Immediately Grian was looking around, Mumbo doing the same. They didn’t get far though until X stopped them. “He would have been right in front of us when we teleported in. In fact…” Xisuma pointed, and while there wasn’t Jrum’s powered down body or a scattering of items that would signify someone dying, there were a few stray items left on the ground.

Mumbo was closer and picked them up. “Some of the charged dust I gave him for snacks. He didn’t even have enough time to eat that to get some more power. There’s also this map drawn in crayon.”

“Jrum showed it to me this morning. He said he was going on a treasure hunt or adventure or something. It started in the village and ended at the mansion. But I didn’t think it meant this mansion. How did he even know about this place?!”

“I don’t know. Did you ever tell him about it?” Mumbo asked.

“No. It never came up! And I don’t think any of the other hermits brought it up!” Grian then remembered that morning. “Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Jrum said he made the map with his ‘friend’ in the village. I thought it might have been imaginary, or maybe a Jellie… but now…” Grian looked over to X, who immediately pulled his admin panels out.

“I should have realized something was up. There had been some errors popping up here and there. They seemed consistent, but for the life of me I could not figure out the source. I couldn’t find anything dangerous or threatening connected to them, so I didn't worry too much. I thought it might have just been a bug. But…” Xisuma moved his hands and Grian watched as the panels shifted. “A similar message, but this time, instead of the usual area it showed up in, it instead appeared in the world joining messages.”

Grian paled. “So whoever or whatever this is was communicating with my son for weeks and now has shown up and kidnapped him?!” Mumbo pulled Grian closer as the avian started hyperventilating. “W-We… it could be anyone. B-But who? W-Why Jrum? I- Was i-it the Watchers? N-No I would know. But wh-” Grian cut himself off as someone came to mind. “No. No no no no nonononono! Not him, not him!”

“C-Calm down Grian. I’m sure it wasn’t. X, please tell me you can try and find an origin for whatever this was?”

X nodded and messed with his panels while Mumbo tried to help keep Grian from getting completely hysterical. “Here we go. Whatever it was seems to be some sort of player entity, but also not at the same time.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s similar to the code for Grum and Jrum or Biffa. Someone who wasn’t so much born as they were created.”

“Alright. Is that all?” Mumbo asked, earning a shake of the head from Xisuma.

“No, there’s some data here that’s very interesting. They have five worlds listed as ones they’ve been to before. Two of them being ones Grian had been in. Technically there’s six if you include this world since they just entered, but-”

“Wh-what worlds?” Grian managed to ask.

“Not the one you were in when you went to highschool.” Xisuma started with his answer, making Grian give a small sigh of relief and calm slightly. “That being said, The first two worlds are Grian’s solo world as well as the Evolution world. There’s also one connected to Evo called… The Down Side Up?”

Grian’s eyes widened. He had talked about his solo world plenty of times. He had talked about Evo a lot as well. But the last one he had only heard about. Heard about from the one person who had been there. Someone who had been in Grian’s solo world and Evo. And that someone… had… also been in… the highschool. 

The builder only half recognized Mumbo talking, but it did bring him back into paying attention to what was going on. “And what are the other two?”

Xisuma hesitated, which made Grian worry. And by the way Mumbo shifted, he was worried too. “The two other worlds… are the fourth and fifth worlds of Helscraft.”

“-W about two rustic houses?”

“No.”

“Okay, you’re really driving a hard bargain. I can build you three rustic houses.”

Jrumbot half registered the people talking nearby. He was really out of it. Even though he was a robot, he still felt sore from walking all the way to that weird mansion.

“I don’t want any of your bloody fucking rustic houses!”

“Well then what do you want?”

“What I want, is for you to go back to season 4 and find Grifter to bring him back here!”

“Hmmm… Sorry Sense, I can’t do that. True might get upset and Xannes would get really mad.”

“You think I give a fuck? You and EX are the only ones who can get in and out of here. So What I want is-”

Jrum had sat up and in his bleary eyed like state, he saw his daddy and ran over to them with a hug. “Daddy, I’m sorry for going too far out. I didn’t know it was gonna be that far away.”

But Jrum didn’t get a hug back, instead his daddy stiffened up and then spoke in a dark tone. “If you don’t pull this thing off me right now, I will tear it limb from limb and harvest its redstone for my experiments.”

Jrum was pulled away by someone behind him, and this time the robot got a better look at the person he hugged. It looked like his dad, except his suit was messy with burn holes and redstone dust everywhere. His tie was a blue color instead of the normal red, also with similar burn markings. His mustache seemed like it was hardly cared for, it was frizzy and lopsided, singed to the point where small embers seemed to be resting in the hairs. And finally, the look in his eyes was familiar and yet not. It looked like when he had spent days on a redstone project and still hadn’t figured it out, but turned up a thousand percent.

“So, how about two rustic houses and a rustic mansion?”

“I already told you what I want!”

“Fine, just one rustic house. I know about that project you’re working on and wouldn’t it look nice if instead of that concrete base-”

“Fine! Fine! I don’t want anything. Just don’t fuck up my redstone!”

“Okay!”

Jrum watched as the daddy clone stomped off before looking to see who had helped him. When he turned to look, he saw a familiar face. “Dad?” Then his memory from just before powering off came back. “N-no… y-you’re not my dad! Wh-who are you?!”

The person smiled. “Don’t worry! I’m your friend! It’s nice to meet you!”

“What do you mean?” Jrum asked warily.

“You kept coming to visit me in the village, didn’t you?”

Jrum paused. Though this person looked like his dad, their voice wasn’t quite the same. But it did match the voice of his friend. “Why do you look like my dad?”

“Oh! Because we’re not just friends. We’re also family!”

Jrum tilted his head. “Is that why you look like my dad?”

“Yeah! Because he’s my dad too! In fact, he named me NPC Grian, but I normally get called NPG.”

“Wait… so does that mean you’re also my brother?”

“Yep! In fact, I’m the oldest! From what you’ve said, you’re the youngest?”

Jrum nodded. “Yeah, I guess you got built first and then Grum got built and then me!”

NPG smiled and then hugged his younger brother. “Well, now that we can see each other face to face, how about we explore the world? We’ll have to stay together because not everyone is nice, but I’m sure you’ll be fine!

“Okay! That sounds fun! But um… can you carry me? Walking so far before wasn’t fun…”

NPG tilted his head in confusion. “Why didn’t you use elytra?”

“Grum and I can’t use them. Daddy says it’s ‘cause of our proportions or something.”

“Well then! We’ll have to see if Prof can do anything about that! He’s pretty nice, I think you’ll like him!”

“Do we have to go far?”

“Nope! We can use the aether to get there! Since it’s faster!”

“What’s that?”

“Well it seems to be whatever is here instead of the nether. Everything is really backwards here. But it’s not too hard to wrap your head around, like with rustic houses!”

Jrum frowned at that. Like rustic houses. He couldn’t wrap his head around those. So he was probably going to just get more confused here.

“Alright! Let’s go!” NPG picked up Jrum and walked off, going to a portal with glowing blocks and blue magic in the middle. Jrum rested his head on his brother’s shoulder as the magic swirled around them before moving them to another dimension.

[harcourtholmesii]

Heaven And Hell

I have finally caught up with the prompt list! Thank you to @connor-sent-by-cyberlife for the lovely list. It is not only a nice experiment but it is helping to motivate me to write, which I appreciate.

Pairings: HankCon / Hannor / Hank X Connor

Warnings: - Swearing - Graphic Violence and Gore - Implied Rape and Referenced Murder - Slightly NSFW - Implied Sexual Interests - Existential Questions - Hurt and Comfort

Words: 3368

Enjoy!

Connor was still young. Bright-eyed, by the book, and completely innocent despite his research into humans and the Earth’s violent and erratic history.

 Being that it was his first mission to Earth, his superiors had been worried to send such a young angel to the planet below. His job had been, put simply, to walk among humans and learn from his experiences. Adapt to their atmosphere and climate, and whilst present, deal out the necessary punishment to the beasts that walked alongside them. As a new breed, Connor was created to find and destroy.

 And they had not been hard to find.

 Executing them for their evil whilst being subtle, however, was another matter entirely.

 In order to achieve it, he had combed through the vast knowledge he had learnt over centuries of study. A vast mind vault within him, stacked high with books and parchment, informed him that the best path he might take would be to gain a career as a police detective or ‘cop’.

 In such a position, he would be more likely trusted by civilians, allowed to carry weaponry he could modify to destroy demons and fallen angels alike, and he would have the means to track them without strain on his own power. He had to build up to it first, of course.

 The police academy, where he excelled at all of his classes, took only a short amount of time to him; a mere couple of years. His superiors, though proud of his work, told him to slow it down. Take hits and failures every now and again, where necessary, to make it appear he was just as fallible as the average human. Even when he had graduated from the academy, he was top of his class by a mile.

 He had been immediately placed into the Detroit Police Department, and had been near delighted by his success. Well, as delighted as an angel was allowed to be. Too many human emotions were enough to cause an angel to fail and fall. Ones of his kind were able to fall into the throes of passion so easily, due to their physical inexperience, that it was often in a murderous rage or in the heat of sexual intimacy that the worst acts were committed. It doomed an angel to fall.

 Connor was certain such things would not affect him. After all, he was the best of the best; made to be more and above the other angels. Not that he wished to gloat, or be overly prideful, but he was better.

 And then he had entered into the precinct for the first time.

 There was the stink of human sweat and he could practically taste the sugar and coffee in the air, but there was the smell of smoke and the near taste of fire to accompany them that had Connor reeling. He restrained himself from immediately hurling himself forward and into the throes of battle, rolling his shoulders as if to shrug off the weight of sin in the precinct.

 There was a devil among them, and it wasn’t hard to work out which of his new colleagues it was.

 Captain Fowler had introduced him to his experienced partner, lieutenant Hank Anderson, whom he was supposed to follow and learn from. Connor had to grit his teeth so as not to roar at the other. The humans were blinder than Connor had initially thought. They would let a devil into their midst, one that would see them fall to doom and destruction.

 He fought back the scowl, replacing it instead with a kinder smile, offering the devil his hand. When their palms connected, there was a deep burn that seared through his skin.

 ‘It is nice to be working with you, lieutenant.’

 ‘It won’t be, I can assure you.’ The urge to let his wings loose and drive the devil through the wall grew, but he kept his smile up. This was going to be harder than he thought.

  ~X~

  Hank had been created from blood and brimstone. He was born to a world of darkness, the lick of hot flames and the sting of teeth and steel against his flesh. For centuries, he had grown and festered like the plague on humanity he had been made to be.

 His dark wings became a shield from the worst pain, and his teeth helped to defend him and tear out the throats of other devils that tried to hurt him. Survival was learnt from an early age, and when he was finally able to crawl free of the pit, he was greeted with the warmth of sunlight and the feeling of Spring dew.

 He had to learn fast, so that he might survive and not return to Hell itself.

 He studied parchments, scrolls and tablets from the dawn of human time, had followed human history and learnt the best and worst of it all. He had learned quickly how best to disguise himself from most angels, and had nearly died numerous times throughout history.

 Through it all though, Hank had grown and aged. He became harder to find, harder to kill, and he had come to recognise humans as less the worms that he had heard through shouts and tortured whispers. Instead, he came to recognise them as an intelligent species, who often made stupid decisions. Mistakes or choices that sent them to an early grave or simply added up until they were being ripped from the planet and pulled down.

 Down below.

 He had many jobs throughout history, had many backstories and different histories to suit his needs. His most recent character was that of a police lieutenant, where it was he that dished out punishment, not just on horrible human beings, but the occasional devil, demon or fallen angel that caused trouble.

 He had come to realise that long ago, humans were too often dragged to Hell for something that could be forgiven or looked over. The seven deadly sins may have been something ‘damning’, but they could be explored without being taken to the extreme like angels seemed to believe. In fact, in Hank’s mind, it was simply Heaven that was refusing to forgive, as was their (quote, unquote) ‘policy’.

 It had been a surprise to Hank when his newest partner turned out to be an angel. Not only that, but one that could immediately see through his disguise despite the centuries he had to perfect it. He never gave the game away, but the two of them had been forced to work side by side. It would have been comical, if Hank wasn’t constantly feeling the burn of ‘righteous fury’ whenever they were within close proximity.

 He had spoken with Connor, had even apologised for his rather rude introduction, but the angel had refuted his words. It was clear to him that Connor was just one of many angels that would never learn, the naïve little pricks that they were. Heaven did a brilliant job of brainwashing those that left it, and Hank was unsurprised Connor seemed furious, in some cases fearful, to be around Hank for any extended time.

 Though, there was one thing that shook their relationship.

 It was a case, one of a particularly brutal serial killer. As they were the investigators for the case, they allowed themselves more freedom in the crime scene once given space from other officers. When alone, Hank let his human visage drop a bit, to reveal the scarred features he held, two strong horns and a pair of white, bony, bat-like wings. When Connor had noticed his transformation, the other had released his own mirage, revealing dark, feathered wings and a neon blue halo above his head.

 ‘No need to get pissy. We’re alone here.’ Hank huffed, and though the angel didn’t relax, he didn’t attack. Hank allowed him to use his powers to help with the investigation, the little angel practically spitting out the blood when he tasted it. Hank already smelled that it had been a devil’s blood, but he smirked at the adorable face the angel had pulled when he found it disgusting.

 They returned to their human forms before another officer would show up, and through it all, Hank had noticed how Connor’s eyes kept diverting to him. Gazing at him not in anger or disgust, but curiosity, and perhaps an interest that made Hank’s spine perform a delicious tingle.

 He could work with this.

  ~X~

  A few months into their work together, they had started investigating a serial killer. Connor had done well to keep the devil away from him, though it had been easier than he initially thought. The devil seemed to pay little mind in attempting to tempt him into the worst kinds of sin, and to Connor’s surprise, actively assisted in the investigations. He didn’t attempt to get the wrong humans killed or framed for their actions, and helped to track down the murderers or rapists or whatever else as quickly as possible.

 Without revealing themselves, of course.

 When the other had dropped his human guise at the crime scene, Connor had been prepared to rip his head off, but when the other spoke so softly, despite his gruff demeanour, Connor had agreed to keep the peace. But he was confused, and more than a little curious in the other.

 He didn’t know what it was that he was experiencing, as he had little knowledge of what a human or an angel could feel. He had never experienced emotions in this way, but he became curious about his partner. He was curious if those wings were as sensitive as his own, whether his gruff behaviour was from boredom, or if he genuinely didn’t want to fight. He didn’t understand this enigma.

 During their investigation into the serial killer, it was at the third crime scene that Connor had taken note that not only did the place stink of his usual, devilish partner, but that the smell had intensified. As if doubled.

 Connor had been too slow to connect the dots, and had been ambushed by the devil. He was tackled to the floor, feeling the figure thrust their knee deep into his back, pushing against his spine. It hurt. Connor whined, a sound he didn’t know he could make, but the devil had just laughed above him. Lips leaned down and a forked tongue swept over his cheek, tasting him. Connor fought back, but from his position, he couldn’t grab his gun nor his sword. He was trapped.

 There were footsteps, and then Hank was in front of them both. Silver hair which had helped to curtain his eyes, was pulled back, revealing similar silver eyes. They looked down at Connor with some kind of gaze that he didn’t recognise. Then they turned to fury as they rose to meet the eyes of the devil.

 ‘If you want a piece of angel flesh, you’ll have to wait your turn.’ There was a tightening on Connor’s limbs, a burning sensation scarring his wrists. Connor twisted, feeling the grip change to grab a head full of hair and lift his head up at an uncomfortable angle. When that tongue came out to taste him again, the weight was released with one quick movement.

 Connor could breathe, and he had turned to see Hank without his guise. The two devils were in a tangle of violent clawing and limbs, wings sprouted and teeth bared. There was a loud ‘SNAP!’ as something was broken, and the killer shrieked. Connor leapt into action then, pulling out his gun. He raised it, and stopped.

 He trained it on the two of them, and through the burn of his halo, the voices of his superiors and guardians urged him to end it. He had both of them in his sights. He could do it. He could shoot and kill them both.

 There was a gunshot, and Hank peeled back as there was an explosion of red. The head of the devil had a hole clean through the skull, through the back and between the eyes. It left an alcove in the back of its head, brain matter and blood bursting into a bright confetti of colour. And beyond that, Hank was greeted with the sight of Connor kneeling on the floor.

 The gun had not lowered.

 Hank knew it was over. He could practically see Connor’s guise dropping, the wings unfurling and the halo gleaming as he was close to accomplishing his mission. Connor’s eyes flicked back and forth, his hands around the gun trembling. Suddenly, the gun dropped, along with Connor.

 There was a cry from the angel, a terrible, pained sound as he clutched at his head. The halo burned through his hair and deep into his flesh. Hank was to his side in a moment, bringing him into his lap as the halo withered away to nothing. His wings shook, feathers beginning to moult and though his wings seemed to have shifted a shade darker, they remained their beautiful, glossy colour.

 By the time it was over, Connor had been rendered unconscious, his wings shrinking back into his human guise, but he was missing the heated glow that would arc above his head. As Hank’s own body returned to its original form, he held the other close, and even carried him to the ambulance outside, after he called it.

 It was shock, according to the paramedics, with some bruising from the damage dealt by the now deceased criminal. He would be out of the hospital in no time, less so since he would still be healing at an angel’s rate.

 He met Connor outside the hospital, and instead of driving the both of them back to the precinct, Hank had taken the quiet fallen angel to an empty bridge where Hank had found it easiest to think. Few people came there anymore, the playground abandoned and the stink of the river causing people to feel far too uncomfortable to approach. It was the perfect place.

 ‘What are we doing here, lieutenant?’ His voice quaked, and wide, doe-brown eyes looked up at Hank with the most fearful expression Hank had seen the angel wear. It was more afraid than when he had been attacked by the devil in the first place.

 ‘I think, you being downgraded to a fallen angel, has earned you the right to just call me Hank.’ He half joked. It didn’t help the angel’s shaking. ‘Come on. I just want to talk.’

 He stepped out of the car, and over to a park bench that looked out over the river. He waited a few short minutes before he heard the car door slam and Connor’s approach, taking a seat beside him.

 ‘Why did you come out all this way to eat me?’

 Hank turned a confused gaze down at Connor, eyes to the hairline with shock. Now, that he had not been expecting.

 ‘Uh… I don’t want to eat you.’

 ‘The devil said you would have to wait for angel flesh. You have looked at me in a similar way before, so I am pretty certain your intention is to eat me. Especially since I can’t burn you anymore an-’

 There was a guffaw of laughter from Hank, and Connor felt his cheeks flush a great pink. He had never been able to blush before, and he felt more embarrassed and more shame when he realised he was exhibiting such human behaviour.

 ‘Tha… That isn’t what the little creep meant.’ Hank assured him, arm around Connor and bringing him close. Despite Connor’s immediate panic, he didn’t struggle when Hank pulled him into the half hug. He felt Hank’s warmth, and how it didn’t burn like when they first met. Instead it was a soothing sensation that heated his skin and the smell of brimstone had been clouded with the smell of sugar, the slightest taint of alcohol and something stronger.

 ‘T-Then… what are we doing out here?’

 ‘I just wanted to talk.’ It was a slight lie, but despite Hank’s growing interest in the tiny angel, Hank wasn’t like the devil serial killer. He wasn’t one to take that shit by force. Hank may have been a devil, but he had grown to become more than that, in his mind. ‘I just wanted to say, I’m sorry.’ Connor’s gaze was confused and disbelieving. ‘No, I mean it. I’m sorry you lost your grace. And for me of all people.’

 ‘It wasn’t for you.’

 ‘Then why didn’t you shoot?’ Connor’s lips were sealed, and he had turned away from Hank, that shameful flush giving him away.

 ‘Believe it or not, Connor, being so close to humans isn’t so bad.’

 ‘Of course you would say that. Just trying to rub it in that I have been released from Heaven?’

 ‘See, you say that like being released from Heaven is a bad thing.’ Hank hummed, turning his head and pulling Connor closer. He could practically hear the fallen angel’s heart racing and the slightest chatter of teeth in the cool night air. ‘But, think about it; Heaven had such control over you, in the end, your own decisions were considered enough to have you banished?’

 ‘I…’ Connor shouldn’t be listening to this. He shouldn’t! ‘I was placed here on Earth to hunt your kind, to protect the humans from sin.’

 ‘But see, you can’t protect humans from sin.’ Hank said in response. Connor tilted his head, like a little, lost puppy. ‘Humans cannot be saved from sin, in fact, it is in their nature to sin. And the small things should always have the option to be forgiven, and yet, Hell is being piled high with more and more souls each year.’

 ‘You’re just saying that…’

 ‘I’m not. Think about it, Connor. Is it so wrong to indulge? Certain things are out of line, of course, but is violence, when necessary, a bad thing? Is lying? Is sex really as sinful as Heaven taught you?’ Connor turned his head away, gaze pointedly to the pavement.

 ‘I… I don’t know…’

 ‘And that is the thing about human nature; no one really knows what is too far. Sometimes, someone deserves the worst that happens to them, but then there are those that are judged too harshly for something so insignificant. And they are humans, with lifespans shorter than ours by whole millenniums. They should be allowed to live as they choose without us dictating how they behave.’

 Connor didn’t seem sure how to react to such information. He felt Hank’s guise drop and let his own drop as well. When he met Hank’s eyes, he hid his gaze, shameful of his appearance. Instead, he felt Hank raise on of his hands, and thin, soft lips against the crook of his knuckles; a gentle tease of fangs against the skin of his hand. Wide eyes turned up to Hank, and even though there was something lustful there, Hank did not proceed any further.

 ‘You are beautiful, Connor. I don’t know if Heaven made you that way, or if this was your own design, but it was a good choice.’ The pink to Connor’s cheeks burned. He withdrew his hand, and Hank didn’t press further. The devil simply chuckled a gruff sound from deep within his chest.

 ‘Don’t worry, Connor. I may be evil, but I am not going to do anything to you that you wouldn’t want me to. I just wanted to indulge myself a little.’ Connor bit his lip, kneading his bottom lip between his teeth.

 ‘I… I d-don’t mind…’ Hank raised an eyebrow down at him. ‘I just… I’m not sure it is appropriate.’

 ‘In Heaven and Hell’s eyes, it never will be. But here, on Earth, things can be different. Connor…’ There was a quiet sound from Connor, and Hank felt his body burn and his spine quiver. ‘I… If you want, we can be friends.’

 Connor leaned into Hank’s arms, resting his head in the crook of Hank’s throat. Hank’s hands passed over one wing that twitched, and then relaxed beneath his touch. There was a hum from Connor, a sound so content and just a little bit nervous.

 ‘I… I would like that…’

[aquaminwrites]

Paper Cranes | Kim Taehyung (M)

PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x F!Reader

GENRE: Fluff, smut, angst. Non idol AU. College AU. Best friends to lovers. Slice of life.

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (stay safe!), so much fluff you might pass out

WORD COUNT: 18.3k

DESCRIPTION: It is said that if someone folds 1000 paper cranes, they will receive one wish. Kim Taehyung has been folding you paper cranes since he was six years old. He won’t tell you what he’s going to wish for once he reaches his goal, but even into your twenties, all you know is that he’s been wishing for the same thing every time.

You’re six years old when you receive your first paper crane from Kim Taehyung.

Your first year of elementary school is almost over—there’s only two months left until summer break, and you’ve been counting down the days until you are finally free to wake up as late as you want and play with your friends until the sun goes down.

That’s also why it strikes you as odd that there’s a new transfer student, his newly assigned seat right beside yours, being introduced to the class. His eyes are big and wide underneath a fringe of dark brown hair, and he’s cute in the way that all kids are cute—with rosy cheeks, big ears, and a shy demeanour that tells you that he would most likely rather have stayed at his previous school.

After a brief introduction of Hello, I’m Kim Taehyung, he shuffles over and takes his seat. He doesn’t really look at you, keeping his head down as he pulls his notebooks from his backpack. You see that the margins are covered in doodles, little cartoons and make-believe stories etched onto every far corner of the page.

You open your mouth to introduce yourself, but the sound of your teacher’s voice has you facing the blackboard once more. You try not to think too hard about the new boy sitting beside you, gently humming to himself as he doodles butterflies in an open meadow.

At recess, you’re playing with a few friends, doing cartwheels and rolling around on the grass. You’re giggling with your friend, Chaeyoung, when you hear a ruckus happening not too far away.

“Hey! Please, no, give it back!”

You glance over and see a group of three known playground bullies who have circled Taehyung, holding his notebook up above his head, so high that he can’t reach.

“What’s so special that’s in here, anyway?” One of the bullies taunts, as he starts to leaf through the pages. “This your diary or something?”

“Please, just give it back,” Taehyung begs, trying to jump up to grab his book.

Another bully places his hand on Taehyung’s chest and shoves him back, and the suddenness of the motion has the smaller boy falling and landing hard on his tailbone.

It’s when you see tears pricking his eyes that you begin to fume. You distantly hear Chaeyoung hissing at you to get back here, you’re gonna get in trouble! as you stomp your way over to the group of boys, ones that you know are in a grade higher than yours. So why are they picking on little kids anyway?.

“Hey,” you bark, tiny fists with white knuckles at your sides. “Leave him alone!”

The bully holding the book swivels in your direction and snorts. “Or what?”

Not one to back away from a challenge or a fight (to Chaeyoung’s dismay—you hear her groaning as she catches up with you), you defiantly stare him right in the eye before you wind back your foot and kick him in the shin—hard.

He yelps and drops the book, and you’re quick to snatch it back. “My big cousin is thirteen and he does judo,” you warn, venom dripping from your voice. “So I suggest you leave both of us alone if you know what’s good for you.”

Having recovered from the kick, the bully glares at you with flared nostrils, and he takes a step forward as if he’s ready to continue this fight. You just lift your chin and cross your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised. When he sees that you’re not about to back down, he lets out a grunt and mutters, “Ain’t worth it. C’mon, guys.”

And just like that, they turn around and leave.

You hand the book wordlessly back to Taehyung with a trembling hand as Chaeyoung runs over and basically tackles you with a hug. The boy is still on the ground when he accepts the book from your grasp, looking up at you with shiny, doe eyes.

Chaeyoung can’t help but gush in her excitement. “You are so cool! And so tough! Wow! Wait—are you shaking?”

“Oh my gosh, Chae-Chae, I was so scared!” You wail, dramatically collapsing into your friend’s arms as the adrenaline bred from confrontation finally starts to slow. “I thought I was gonna get punched in the face for sure!”

Chaeyoung gasps. “You really think they would hit a girl?”

You roll your eyes. “Dummies with no brains will hit anyone.” You sigh and then turn to ask Taehyung if he’s alright, but when you glance over, he’s already gone. The only evidence that he’d been there in the first place was the patch matted grass where he landed from the fall.

After recess, you and Chaeyoung file back into your classroom, and you wander back over to your desk. To your surprise, there’s something resting atop it, though you had cleared it before going outside.

You get closer and notice that it’s a paper crane, folded with a ripped out page of a notebook that has doodles of butterflies in an open meadow on it. You glance at Taehyung, and he meets your eyes and offers up the tiniest of smiles.

“Is this for me?” You have to ask.

His smile widens, boxy and adorable. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

You cradle the paper sculpture in your hands and examine it carefully. Along the top of one of the wings, in surprisingly neat penmanship, he’d written, “Because you stuck up for me.”

“What they did to you was wrong,” you reply quietly, thumb running along one of the creases. “I hate bullies. I always have.”

Taehyung looks at you with something you can’t quite pinpoint dancing in his vision. After a beat, he gently says, “Don’t throw it away, promise?”

“I would never!” You gasp with mock-indignation. Taehyung just patiently waits for the response he wants to hear, his heart-shaped lips settling in a neutral line. You sigh, and then sincerely respond, “I promise.”

His boxy smile returns, and you can’t help but grin as well.

Maybe the new kid isn’t so bad after all.

—

You’re ten years old when you finally ask why he’s folding all those cranes.

It turns out that the Kim family had moved walking distance from your house. Their home is a little more isolated, with Taehyung’s parents owning a small strawberry farm with a decent amount of property. It’s ten minutes away by foot, and only a few minutes if you take your bike.

After that first meeting, you and Taehyung become the best of friends. He makes you laugh with his silly but innocent way of speaking, often acting out skits and things he’d seen on television for you because he knows it makes you giggle when you hear his girly falsetto.

It soon becomes routine for the two of you to go to and from school together, since your house is on Taehyung’s way. Every morning for the last four years, he’s either walked or biked to your house to pick you up. Sometimes when he shows up early, your mother ushers him inside for a post-breakfast snack. Other times, he brings your family baskets of strawberries from the farm, just because he knows how much you like them.

All the while, Taehyung still gifts you with paper cranes.

You think you’ve amassed around a hundred by now. Taehyung likes to make them for you on your birthday and special holidays, interspersed with random ones when he finds an interesting piece of paper he think you’d like, or even newspaper clippings, and his own doodles on lined paper. You keep every single one pressed flat and placed in a shoe box under your bed.

They’re all different sizes, and some of them were made with pieces of scrap paper. But they always have a message written on the wings, and you always cherish them because Taehyung took the time to make them for you.

On the day of your tenth birthday, you throw a party in your backyard. It’s the end of summer, just before school is meant to start up again, and you’re finally an age that has two numbers in it. You feel older, more mature.

And as an older, more mature version of yourself, in your pursuit of knowledge, you can’t help but ask Taehyung as he digs into a second slice of cake, “Why do you fold so many paper cranes?”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, as if he thought you knew already. “You mean you haven’t heard of the legend?”

You narrow your eyes at him. Taehyung is a few months younger than you, so he’s still nine, a child.

“No?”

Taehyung shovels more cake into his mouth while he speaks, clearly ignoring Chaeyoung’s look of both disgust and fascination from where she’s been snacking on popcorn not three feet away.

“They say that if you make a thousand paper cranes, you get one wish,” he says simply without offering up much else in terms of explanations.

You wait for a beat in case he’s just taking a dramatic pause, as he’s known to do. When he contentedly licks the icing off his fork, you can’t help but regard him curiously. “What are you wishing for?”

Taehyung only offers you a wink in reply. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

Taehyung ends up getting you a charm bracelet with your birthstone on it, as well as a charm with the letter “T” that dangles down from one of the beads. Your mother tells you later that night, after the party has cleared out, that Taehyung saved up all his allowance to buy that for you. She heard so from his mother. You feel warmth rise up to your cheeks as you think of your best friend and his kind, boxy smile and the ten paper cranes he’d neatly stuffed into an envelope in lieu of a card.

This time, the message on the wings says, “You’re finally double digits! Happy birthday! Love, your best friend, Tae-Tae.”

—

You’re thirteen when you start to look at him differently.

“You want me to what?”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to act flippant, though the hands worrying at the hem of your shirt give you away. “Come on, Tae, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Sorry,” he holds up his hand, his eyes still squinted in confusion. “But you want me to what? Why me? Why now?”

You groan, already embarrassed by the question you’d posed in the first place. At the insistence of him repeating your request, you fear you might actually spontaneously combust. The two of you are in your room, sitting on your bed, and Taehyung is staring at you as if you’ve grown a second head from the top of your shoulder.

“It’s just a kiss, Tae. I don’t want to start high school without having kissed anyone before. And you’re my best friend, I trust you.”

“Chaeyoung’s also your best friend,” Taehyung grumbles, his shoulders slumped as he glances anywhere but you. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“I’m not attracted to her, you dummy,” you huff, arms crossed over your chest.

Taehyung, a budding flirt, cannot help but quip, “So, you’re saying that you find me attractive?”

You roll your eyes again so hard that you’re fairly certain that you just saw the back of your skull. “Don’t be stupid. Are you going to help me out or not? Because if not, I’ll ask Jimin or something, he probably wouldn’t ask as many dumb questions—”

“Jimin?” Taehyung gawks. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

You don’t know why, but you’re surprised when he agrees. You asked, after all. What had you expected? Taehyung is a lot of things, but he has never once let you down in the seven years you’ve been friends. The weight of the verbal contract starts to sit on your shoulders, not to mention the act in question that is about to take place. You wipe your damp palms against your shorts and scoot a little closer to Taehyung, who is staring intently at you with his big, beautiful brown eyes.

You’re so close to him now that you can feel the body heat he radiates. Your eyes scan all over his face, and you think to yourself that he’s grown up a lot since you met him all those years ago. He still hasn’t quite grown into his ears, and he still has the scrawny gangly quality that all early adolescents have in their limbs. But you suppose he’s objectively cute, and not a bad face to kiss for your first.

When you get close enough, you let your eyelids close and you tilt your head just slightly in anticipation. Taehyung meets you halfway, and you feel your heart hammering against your chest as soft, gentle lips press lightly to your own.

You’re expecting a quick peck, for it to happen and then be over. What you’re not expecting is for Taehyung’s hand to reach up and cup your cheek when he senses you trying to pull away, thumb grazing over your skin as you allow yourself to sink into him just a little more.

After a few seconds, Taehyung drops his hand from your jawline and you slowly pull apart. You instinctively run your tongue along your lower lip before nibbling on it slightly, too shy to look at Taehyung in the eye as he scratches the back of his head.

After a thick silence, full of something you can’t quite explain, Taehyung clears his throat.

“So, uh,” he begins, his voice cracking just slightly at the end. “Was it okay?”

You finally look at him, his eyes warm but also apprehensive. You can tell by the way the muscles in his shoulders bunch, and he curls inward as if to make himself smaller. You hate when he does that.

“It was perfect,” you say honestly, sending him the tiniest of smiles, if only so that his worried frown would go away. “Thank you, Tae. Really.”

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, no problem. Hey, look, I have to head back home, I promised my parents I’d help with some stuff on the farm tonight. So I’ll see you at school on Monday?”

You watch dumbly as Taehyung is already up and off your bed, straightening out his clothes before making a beeline for your bedroom door. You barely have the chance to say a proper goodbye before he makes himself scarce, slipping out of your room, barreling down the stairs, and out the front door.

Your hand rests upon the warm indent of where Taehyung had just been sitting moments before, and you furrow your eyebrows in an attempt to understand what just happened. You were the one that asked him if the two of you could kiss, so why do you feel so weird about it now? Why did Taehyung touch you like that, like he really wanted you to be in his arms?

You raise your fingertips to softly run along the edge of your lower lip as you replay the kiss in your mind. A thought threatens to weasel its way into your consciousness, but you shove it down and pretend as if the butterflies in your stomach are only a result of being kissed for the first time. You tell yourself it isn’t because of Kim Taehyung, and that you’ll see him at school on Monday and everything will go back to how it was.

Although, you find it harder and harder to keep those thoughts at bay when you discover the paper crane folded in your locker with a small, single heart etched onto one of the wings.

—

You’re seventeen when everything changes.

You and Taehyung pretend the kiss never happened. You never talk about it after, and part of you wonders if Taehyung wants to talk, but is just too shy or nervous to say anything. Either way, as soon as high school starts, there’s no time to think about such silly things as a preteen kiss.

Everything feels the same, but also different. Your friends start to worry about things like popularity, something that wasn’t that big of a deal just a few years ago. Friend groups split up and people move on to different cliques, girls start wearing tighter clothes and the hallway by the boy’s locker room always smells like cheap body spray.

The one constant in your life, though, is Taehyung.

The two of you share a good number of classes together, and you still walk to school side by side every day. You always sit together at lunch in the cafeteria, and are always speaking in stupid inside jokes that make your other friends roll their eyes at you. You know there are rumours about you and Taehyung, but both of you constantly squash them down.

But it does’t help that neither of you have dated over the past four years since entering proper adolescence. You both just tell people that you don’t have the time, or that you just haven’t met anyone worth being with. And besides, you’re happy with how things are. Why would you want them to change?

You’re best friends, and you always will be. That’s all.

You’re in your senior year and it’s right around the time that everyone is receiving their admission packages for university. You had worked really hard the year previous to get good grades, and you just hope and pray that it’s enough to warrant an acceptance to your dream school.

When your mother hands you a thick, large envelope with the university’s header in the upper corner, you practically rip it from her hands and tear into it right in front of her. Happy tears blur your vision as you squeal upon reading the first line.

Dear Y/N,

We are pleased to offer you early admission to Seoul National University…

The first person that you want to tell is Taehyung.

You grab your heavy winter coat, tug on your boots and mittens, and run as fast as you can down the street towards the Kim’s farm. It had snowed the night before, so it takes you a little longer than usual as your boots crunch through the freshly fallen tufts of white. Because Taehyung’s area is a little more rural, the plows have a harder time getting there to clear everything away. But you pay no mind, overjoyed at the news you can’t wait to share.

When you get to the house, you knock on the door before peering into the side window. You wave at Taehyung as he comes down the stairs, a look of surprise on his face at your sudden appearance.

“Hey,” he greets, opening the door for you. You step inside and he offers to take your coat. He’s grown tall, you realize, as he easily moves around you to hang your things in the hall closet before ushering you further into the warmth of his house.

“Are your parents home?” You query, poking your head around the corner into the empty living room.

“No, they had to go run some errands,” Taehyung shrugs. “Winter’s pretty slow for us here, anyway.” He leads you upstairs to his room, a place where you’ve been thousands of times, and he plops down on his bed as you take a seat next to him. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

You try to ignore how Taehyung man-spreads across his duvet, and how thick his thighs have become since he started working out with that sophomore friend of his, Jungkook.

Finally, you blurt out with the biggest smile across your face, “I got in.”

Taehyung immediately sits up, pin-straight. “You did?”

Your smile somehow gets wider as pride and joy spread across his face. “I did.”

“Y/N!” He beams, jumping up and gathering you in his arms. “That’s amazing! You did it! I’m so fucking proud of you!”

You wrap your arms around his neck as his find your waist and you bask in the feeling of being held by your best friend. He’s always been so warm, and on a cold day like today, you welcome his embrace and his love for you.

Finally, you remember to stop thinking of yourself for five seconds and ask, “What about you?”

Taehyung suddenly goes still, and his grip on you tightens just slightly. “I…I’m not going.”

You pull away and look up at him. He’s dejected, eyes downcast and his face angled away from you as if he thinks you’ll be disappointed in him. You’re not, though. You never could be.

Sighing and running your hands along his shoulders in comfort, you say, “I’m sorry, Tae. I’m sure you got offers from other schools though, yeah? You worked just as hard as I did last year to get your grades up.”

“It’s not that,” Taehyung sighs, a crease forming between his brows. “I got in.”

You’re officially confused, taking a step back to purposely put yourself in his line of vision. “You got in? So what do you mean you’re not going? I thought the plan was that we were going to go to Seoul National University together.”

Taehyung exhales hard through his nose and scrunches his face, his eyes closing. It’s the face he gets when he’s overwhelmed with stress, unsure of how to articulate his words. You wait for him to be ready, smoothing out the collar of his sweater to keep yourself occupied. His hands grip tighter on your waist, and it takes you a second to realize that he’s still holding you.

“My parents need help with the farm,” he says quietly. “I declined my offer of admission.”

At those words, your heart breaks and your mind starts to race. Every thought you have at first is selfish—what will you do without Taehyung? The two of you have spent over a decade together, seeing each other damn near every day. Will your friendship survive the distance between Daegu and Seoul? The plan was to always stick together, to experience college milestones side by side.

You force yourself to push those thoughts aside so that you can focus on Taehyung. You know that SNU is his dream school, too. And not only did he get in, but he had to turn them down. You know that it wasn’t an easy decision for him to make, but he’s always been selfless like that—he’s always put you first and taken care of you, so it’s no surprise that he would do the same for his blood family.

“But it’s not forever, yeah?” You ask gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. “I’m sure that since you got in already, they can hold your admission until you’re ready.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods, but you can tell that he’s done talking about it. He doesn’t want to think of a reality where he’s stuck on his parents’ strawberry farm laying down fertilizer while you’re off in the big city making new friends and having new experiences. You see it in his eyes when he finally meets yours. He’s scared. Terrified of a future without you.

Always able to read his mind, you pull him in for another hug, nuzzling into his neck as you murmur, “You’re my best friend, Tae-Tae. Just because we won’t live down the street from each other anymore doesn’t mean I’m just going to forget about you.”

His inhale is shaky, and it takes all of your willpower not to cry, too. “Promise?”

You don’t know what possesses you, but you rise to your tip toes and press a soft kiss against his cheek. He whips his head to face you with wide eyes, but you just send him a tiny smile and reply, “I promise.”

The rest of senior year, you and Taehyung are practically inseparable—even more so than before. You find out that Chaeyoung also got into SNU, and the two of you manage to work it out so that you two can be roommates when you move into the dorms. You find solace that you at least won’t be completely alone in a different city, though your heart still hurts at the thought of Taehyung missing out on his opportunity.

The two of you spend as much time together as possible, almost as if the clock is ticking down on your friendship with your imminent move coming up. Summer is full of laughter and long nights by the river, reminiscing about simpler times when you were kids. When things didn’t seem so complicated, and distance was never an issue.

Your moving day rolls around faster than you could have ever anticipated. You’ve loaded the last of your things into the back of your parents’ van when you see Taehyung jogging down the street towards your house.

You’d texted him earlier that morning to let him know that you were leaving soon. Of course, he’d known that it was going to be today, but he still wanted to make sure he got to say goodbye to you before you drove to Seoul and out of his life.

When he reaches you, his eyes are misty and red and you’re sure you look just like him. It feels like the end of a chapter, like a pivotal moment where you’re stepping away from your childhood and moving into life as an adult.

Taehyung stops at your feet and just stares at you for a second, his eyes darting all over your face. You look up at him, doing the same, until a tear slips from the corner of your eye and then suddenly you’re sobbing into his chest and he’s holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re going to do great,” he promises, rubbing small circles on your back. “You’re going to make so many new friends, because it’s impossible for people not to love you. You’re going to become the city girl that I know you’ve always dreamed of being, and you’re going to make Seoul your bitch.”

You laugh at the last comment, pulling away to look at him again. “Thank you, Tae,” you hiccup.

He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you’ll call and FaceTime me all the time, right?”

You sniffle, giving a nod. “Of course.”

Taehyung reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Promise?”

You exhale shakily, but meet his gaze head-on. “I promise.”

He looks down and something in his line of vision glints. He notices the charm bracelet on your wrist, and he can’t help but chuckle. “I can’t believe you still have that.”

“Of course I still have it,” you say with the tiniest hint of a smile. “It reminds me of you.”

You hear your mother calling you from the passenger’s seat of the van, ushering you that it’s a long drive and you need to leave now.

Taehyung clears his throat a few times, trying to be strong for the both of you. He takes your hands and presses something into your palm, and from the feel of it, you already know what it is. The paper crane in your hand makes you cry more, and Taehyung presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Go on, Y/N. Go find your future.”

Your lower lip trembles as you speak. “I don’t want to leave you.”

This time, when he smiles, the warmth is back in his eyes. “You’re not,” he swears. “We’re best friends, remember? Wherever you go, I won’t be far behind. Just wait for me, okay?”

You promise him again, because how could you not?

“Okay.”

Once you’re in the car, you put your headphones on and select the playlist that Taehyung made you of all his favourite songs. It reminds you of him, anchors your heart in Daegu, where he remains on his parents’ farm until it’s his turn to pursue his dreams. You look at the crane that you hold like a precious gem in your palms, and the tears start welling up again as you read the message written on one of the wings.

“Don’t forget about me while you’re off at university. I know you’ll do great things.”

—

You’re nineteen when you meet Park Jinyoung.

You notice him immediately when you walk into one of your tutorials—an elective on music history that you take because you’ve heard that the professor gives great lectures.

Also, because Taehyung was the one who introduced music to you all those years ago, and you’ve grown to love it too. He also loves hearing about what you’ve learned in lecture when you do get the chance to talk, which, as the years go on, becomes less and less.

It’s no one’s fault, really. Distance makes things hard, as do the responsibilities that come along with being a university student. You have paper after paper due, and Taehyung tells you that he doesn’t want to bother you when you’re in the middle of your studies. Your schedules also just don’t align, with him still helping on the farm and having to be up at the crack of dawn and going to bed early, and with you opting for afternoon and evening classes so that you can get a little more shut eye to start your day.

He still mails you paper cranes every now and then. Not as often as he used to, but it still makes you smile when you get to add another one to your growing collection. You must have close to five or six hundred by now, and you’ve had to start a second shoebox to make sure everything fits.

But Park Jinyoung is different. And he’s here.

For one, he looks like a Disney prince. Like someone had pulled him from a designer fashion catalogue and plopped him in the middle of your tutorial. You’re nearly late, so the only remaining seat is next to him. He smiles shyly at you when you sit down, and you try to hide the blush dusting your cheeks behind the length of your hair.

You dig into your bag for your laptop and flip it open as your TA walks into the room, prepared to take notes. But then you check the battery on your computer and notice that there is definitely not enough of a charge to keep it alive for the duration of your class.

Cursing yourself for not charging it overnight, you notice that the man sitting beside you has the same model. You muster up all your courage, turn to him and ask, “I’m really sorry about this, and I’m usually not this unprepared, but do you happen to have a laptop charger I can borrow? We have the same one, so I figured—”

He smiles at you and your stomach does flips. “Of course.” He pulls the charger from his backpack and hands it to you, and you gratefully take it and plug in your computer. “I’m Jinyoung, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you introduce, shaking his offered hand.

“You know,” he says after a beat, a drawl in his voice that has a tiny hint of mischief in it. “Letting you borrow my charger is a pretty big favour, considering that we’re basically strangers. I think I might need some kind of repayment.”

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. “Oh? Like what?”

“A cup of coffee,” he states. “After class?”

There’s no use in hiding your blush now. You smile, biting your lip. “I can do that.”

It doesn’t take long for Park Jinyoung to become your boyfriend. You and Chaeyoung move into the off-campus apartments after your freshman year, and it turns out that Jinyoung lives in the building next to yours. He’s as sweet as they come, the perfect, doting partner, someone that loves you and isn’t shy about it, either.

He holds your hand in public, guides you by the small of your back through large crowds, brings you flowers just because he feels like it, and proudly shows you off to his friends when you’ve hit the six month mark of your relationship.

His only thing is that he thinks the charm bracelet you’re wearing is weird. So he asks you to take it off. And so you do, and sits in your jewelry box, pretty much forgotten.

Things are good. Really, really good.

But of course, life always likes to throw curve balls your way.

One afternoon, you’re sitting on the couch with Jinyoung in his apartment, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you watch some true crime documentary on Netflix after an early dinner. It’s just starting to get good when your phone rings on the coffee table, the loud buzzing startling you as you take a look at the screen.

You pick up and in a confused tone, answer with, “Mom?”

“Hi, sweetie,” she replies, sounding tired.

You sit up straight, suddenly on high alert. Your mother doesn’t really like phone calls, much prefers texts for some reason (she’s partial to emojis, and you almost regret downloading the keyboard onto her phone), so the fact that she’s calling at all is unusual.

“Is everything okay?”

She’s quiet for a second, and you can hear your pulse in your ears. Jinyoung pauses the movie and adjusts how he’s sitting so that he can fully face you. He gives you a curious look but you just shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Finally, your mother sighs and says, “Taehyung’s grandmother passed away two nights ago.”

You suddenly feel cold all over. Why are you only hearing about this now, from your mom of all people? Why hadn’t Taehyung told you himself? You try to think of the last time you spoke to him, and you realize that it’s been months. Ever since you and Jinyoung started dating, you’ve completely neglected him. And the realization that you promised you wouldn’t starts to weigh on you, and you’re crying before you know what’s happening.

“When’s the funeral?”

“Tomorrow,” she responds. You immediately stand up and swipe at your eyes, grabbing your coat from the front hall of Jinyoung’s apartment. He rises to his feet and pads after you, confusion plain as day on his face.

“I’m getting on the next bus,” you say. “See you soon.”

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Jinyoung asks in a minor panic as you grab your things and already have a hand on the doorknob.

“Family emergency,” you say, already weary. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for class on Monday.” You rise to your tip toes and press a lingering kiss to his lips, to reassure him more than anything that you’re going to be okay. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he murmurs against your mouth, stealing another peck. “Text me when you get to your parents’ house, okay?”

You nod. “Okay.”

You manage to catch a late bus to Daegu, and you make it home just before midnight. You text Taehyung to let him know you’re coming home, and you just get a heart emoji in response. You know how close Taehyung and his grandmother were. She practically raised him while his parents were busy making ends meet. She was always so kind and so warm, a precious soul who treated you like you were also her grandchild. She used to braid your hair and make you flower crowns when you were small, and the world is a little less bright without her.

It feels weird being back home. Since Seoul is so far, you don’t get to visit as often as you’d like. You really only make it home for the holidays, and even then, you don’t stay very long. But now that you’re here, everything seems so small. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and it’s just not like that in the city. Everyone there is too busy focusing on achieving the next goal to worry about the trivialities of others. There it’s so loud, with cars and buses and drunken college students in the streets every weekend.

Here, it’s quiet. And in your neighbourhood too, it’s dark. Living on the border between rural farmland and suburbia means that there aren’t as many street lights to illuminate the roads. You haul your overnight bag over your shoulder and make your way up the driveway to your front door.

Your mom is there before you can even knock, pulling you into her arms in a tight hug. You can tell she’s been crying. Taehyung’s family is your family too, after all.

“You must be exhausted,” she says, kissing your crown. “Why don’t you wash up and get some rest?”

You can’t help but agree, your back stiff from sitting on a coach bus for three and a half hours. But once you’re all settled into your old room and lying in your childhood bed, you find yourself unable to fall asleep. You toss and turn for about fifteen minutes before you rest flat on your back and sigh loudly.

Turning your head, you see the framed photo of you and Taehyung from his birthday the year you turned eight. It was winter wonderland themed, and you and the other kids were allowed to make snow forts in the big field behind their house. The photo was of you and Taehyung cheek-to-cheek with rosy cheeks and noses from playing in the snow. It makes your heart ache thinking of the pain he must be in. So you send him a text.

[Sent 12:31am] Y/N: Hey. Can I call?

[Received 12:33am] Tae-Tae: Ok.

You tap the phone icon beside his name and wait as it rings. Taehyung picks up almost immediately, but he’s quiet on the other end.

You take the opportunity to speak first. “Hi.”

After a second, Taehyung responds, voice heavy with melancholy. “Hey.” He lets out a derisive laugh with no joy behind it whatsoever. “It’s good to hear your voice again. I was starting to think you forgot all about me.”

You don’t know how to address your absence in his life, and you don’t think you’re ready right this second to tell him about Jinyoung. So you deflect.

“How are you holding up, Tae-Tae?”

He’s quiet again, and you hate it when he gets like this. When he doesn’t know what to say, or how to process what he’s feeling aside from crushing despair, so he just stays quiet because he knows how much you hate to see or hear him cry.

Finally, he croaks out, “I’m not.”

You feel a tear slide from the corner of your eye down your cheek as you sit up in bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He laughs again, hollow and empty. “What would be the point? She’s gone.”

“Tae…”

“I’m really sorry,” he cuts you off. “But I just…” He sighs hard on the other line and you play with a loose thread on your comforter as you wait for him to be ready. “Is it okay if we talk tomorrow? I just…have some stuff I want to say that I can’t do over the phone.”

You bite your lip, exhaustion just now beginning to settle into your bones. “Y-Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

“Okay,” he repeats, more to himself than anything. There’s another long stretch of silence, and then quietly, he adds, “I miss you.”

Miss. Not past tense. Present tense. His choice of words doesn’t escape your notice, and guilt starts to weigh heavily on you. Taehyung is supposed to be your best friend in the whole world, the person you’d spent every day with from ages six to seventeen. You love him, and he loves you, and you’re supposed to tell each other everything.

So why is it that he couldn’t tell you about his grandmother? And why is it that you feel like you can’t talk to him right now?

You realize you’ve gone quiet on your end and respond, “I miss you too, Tae. Try to get some rest, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

He takes in a shaky breath and lets it out slow. “Okay. Goodnight.”

And then he hangs up.

The funeral takes place on a dreary Saturday. It isn’t raining, but it’s overcast. Taehyung stands with his family as he grips his mother’s hand. You stand with your own at their side, though you can’t quite see Taehyung when he’s flanked by both his parents. You hear him though, the quiet words of encouragement he sends to his mom, his voice thick as he works through the tightening of this throat to offer her comfort.

Other people in the neighbourhood, aside from just Taehyung’s family, also show up for the funeral. His grandmother was loved by many, and it at least warms your heart to know that she lived a long, happy life.

After the burial is over, Taehyung’s family hosts a reception at their home. You smooth out the fabric of your black dress after one of Taehyung’s cousins offers to take your coat. Gazing into the living room that is packed with friends and family, you try to spot Taehyung, but can’t seem to find him.

You wonder if maybe he’s in his room, just wanting to be away from all the noise for a second. You know that he wants to talk to you, to tell you something. But you can’t help but be a little worried, especially after how he’d ended the call last night. You know he’s hurting, and all you want to do is help.

So you slip past the crowd huddled around the refreshment table and tiptoe upstairs and down the hall, towards his bedroom.

You notice his door is slightly ajar, and he’s sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. You knock gently so as not to startle him, and he turns to look at you before rising to his feet.

He’s taller now, you notice. Broader too. He’s grown into his ears, his hair getting long with his fringe obscuring his eyes. His heart-shaped lips are pressed tightly together in a worried frown, and there’s a crease forming between his brows that you want to smooth out with the pad of your thumb. He looks…handsome. Different, but he’s still Taehyung. Your Taehyung.

You hate how breathless you sound as you say, “Hi.”

Taehyung doesn’t move at first. He just looks at you, eyes darting all over your face. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. You can’t stand the thick tension that settles between the two of you, so you boldly stride over to him and loop your arms around his middle, burying your face in his chest. He stiffens at your touch, but after a second, you finally feel him embrace you back.

You squeeze him a little tighter and that’s when the dam breaks.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, leaning his weight on you as you feel tears hitting your shoulder. You rub small circles against his back as he cries, his body wracked with sobs. You guide him back towards the bed and help him sit once his breathing evens out, and you fetch him some tissues from his desk so that he can blow his nose.

You sit beside him, still rubbing his back with your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t really make any move to touch you or hold your hand like he used to when you were kids and one of you was having a hard time. The thought of it makes your heart sink. Have you two really grown so far apart?

The silence is long and awkward. Something you’re not used to with Taehyung. But you suppose, it’s been two years since you’ve properly seen him in person. Even when you’d come home for winter break, things with your family are always so hectic that you never really get to see anyone outside of your extended relatives before you have to go back to school. There are so many things that are different now. You aren’t children and life stops for no one.

“How’s Jinyoung?”

You whip your head to face him, eyes wide. You never told Taehyung about him. Not for any particular reason, it just…never came up.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat. “How did you—”

“Your tagged photos on Instagram,” he replies quietly, staring at the floor. “I saw it last night before you called. And,” he notes, gesturing to your bare wrist. “You’re not wearing your bracelet anymore.”

Your hand immediately stills.

“Why didn’t…” He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. You move your hand away from his back, settling it into your lap to nervously fiddle with your fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

You search for words, but come up short. “I…”

“You what?” Taehyung spits. “You get your first boyfriend, and then what? I don’t exist anymore?”

It’s your turn to sigh. “Taehyung, you’re not being fair.”

“No, you know what, fuck that,” he seethes, getting up from the bed so that he can pace back and forth in front of you. You look up at him helplessly, wringing your wrists as he fists at his hair. “You promised me, Y/N. You fucking promised.”

You’ve made so many promises to Taehyung in the past that your brain short circuits trying to figure out which one he means. Frustrated, you challenge, “Promised what?”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your parted lips. Taehyung stops, his hands now hanging limply at his sides. His hair is a disheveled mess, and you swear you catch a glimpse of a falling tear as the light catches it on its way to the ground. When he answers, it’s barely above a whisper.

“That you’d wait for me.”

You feel your heart fall into your stomach, and you stand up, reaching for him. “Tae, I—”

He moves away from you, and you retract your hand as if you’d been burned. He reaches for something on his desk, and you can’t help the shaky exhale that leaves your lungs when you see that it’s another paper crane. This time, it’s made with black paper, and you can see the inscription done with silver ink.

“Here,” he mumbles, holding it out for you to take. “I made it for you yesterday when my mom told me you’d be coming back.”

You accept it, because how could you not? Wave after wave of guilt washes over you. It shouldn’t feel like this, you think, with Taehyung. This is your best friend in the whole world, the one you share everything with. Guilt isn’t something you should feel for having met someone, for accepting love from someone else. It isn’t fair that he’s making you feel guilty for being happy. For living your life. Nothing about anything makes sense anymore, and when you look back up, Taehyung is already halfway out the door.

“Tae,” you call out one last time. He turns, and his face doesn’t suit the sadness that mars it. You don’t know what to say, so you settle on, “I’m really sorry.”

He offers you a solemn half nod. “Thank you for coming. Grandma would have been happy to see you.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you in the solitude of his empty bedroom.

You look down at the paper crane, heavy in your palms. You read the words etched onto the wing and it makes you hate yourself just a little bit more.

“Thank you for not forgetting about me.”

You allow yourself just one minute to cry. One minute to face the fact that you feel like you’re losing the most important person in your life, and you don’t know what to do to fix things. You let yourself break down from the sadness of being all alone in a house that used to feel like an extension of your home. But now…it’s just a house. It’s just a house in a small town that has nothing left for you.

So after your sixty seconds are up, you muster up all your energy and do the only thing you can.

You go back to Seoul.

—

You’re twenty when the shift happens.

It’s also when things start to fall apart.

You haven’t spoken to Taehyung since his grandmother’s funeral. It’s been months. Your birthday came and went without a text from him, and it was the first time you cried yourself to sleep since you were in high school.

You feel like a piece of your soul has been ripped from your body. And what’s worse is that you know that if you were to give Taehyung a call, he would answer. Regardless of whatever fight you two are having, no matter how angry or frustrated or confused you are with how you feel, you know that if you need him, he will be there for you no matter what.

But you don’t call.

Because you’re scared.

Scared of what, you aren’t entirely sure. But after returning to Seoul from Daegu, something changed. You’d started isolating yourself more, focusing only on school and not spending time with any of your other friends or going out like you used to.

Jinyoung notices as well—notices that you don’t invite him over as often as you used to, that he needs to coax affection from you when you used to give it so openly. He definitely notices when you fake an orgasm just to be done with sex. Your mind has just been so preoccupied, and part of you had believed that being intimate with your boyfriend would snap you out of it.

But the entire time, your mind is elsewhere. And you don’t know how to ask him to stop, so you squeeze down on him and moan like you know he wants to hear, arching your back off the bed just so that he’ll hurry up and get off of you.

Once he’s finished, Jinyoung rolls back onto the mattress and stares at the ceiling. Your room is dead silent, save for the sound of the both of you catching your breaths. You take your blanket and tug it up so that it’s covering your nose and mouth, hoping that he won’t notice your obvious discomfort at just lying in bed beside him.

Jinyoung exhales hard through his nose. “You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

You bite your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ve broken skin. “Nothing’s on my mind.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Jinyoung remarks, sitting up and running a hand through his dark hair. He leans his elbows against his bent knees and stares off into the distance. “I know you’re in love with someone else.”

His remark shocks you so much that you sit up and scoot away from him, sheets clutched tight to your body. “What are you talking about?”

Jinyoung observes your body language and snorts, but it’s not one full of mirth. It sounds sad, like he’s finally coming to terms with something he’s been wrestling with for months.

“Even now,” he notes, lightly gesturing to your posture. “I just told you that I know you’re in love with another man, and instead of reassuring me and telling me that I’m crazy, you’re hiding. You’re hiding because you know I’m right.”

Your mouth feels so dry. You try to squeak out, “Jinyoung, that’s not true, I just—”

“Don’t,” he says with a tone of finality to it. He reaches down and grabs his boxers first, then slips out of your bed to gather the rest of his clothes. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know you’re not happy. Fuck, I’m not happy. And that’s not what a relationship is supposed to be. It’s supposed to be two people in love, not one person in love and the other pining over some guy from back in Daegu.”

Your blood runs cold. “W-what did you say?”

He exhales slowly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. His face is scrunched in regret, as if he’s just revealed something he wasn’t supposed to know.

“When you came back from Daegu after you had that family emergency,” Jinyoung explains, “You seemed…different. Sadder. You wouldn’t talk to me about it, so I spoke to Chaeyoung. She told me about that friend of yours, Taehyung? The one who would always send you the paper cranes in the mail?” He chuckles derisively. “Best friends since age six. How am I supposed to compare to that?”

Your lower lip starts to tremble. By now, he’s fully dressed. “Jinyoung, you’re being unfair.”

He laughs again, louder this time. “I’m being unfair?” He scoffs. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. We’re supposed to be partners. If you’re having a hard time, you’re supposed to be able to come to me. I’m the one who has been here through everything, and yet I’m the one being tossed aside like I don’t matter.”

“But you do matter,” you insist, shifting to rise to your feet. Tears are blurring your vision now, but through the mist, you can see Jinyoung holding out a hand to stop you.

“I get it, you know,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it. “Really, I should have seen it coming. You used to talk about him all the time. Your friend from Daegu. You never told me his name because you wanted to protect me, right? Didn’t want me to know that you were only dating me so that you could get over him?”

You’re more confused than ever. “No, Jinyoung, that’s not it, you have it all wrong, I love you, I—”

“Please,” he cuts you off, voice strained. “Please just…let me talk, okay?”

You hiccup through a quiet sob as you hug your knees to your chest under the blanket. You nod. You can see in his eyes that he’s really hurting. And so if he needs to say his piece, you will let him. He deserves as much.

“I should have known right from the beginning when I found those boxes of paper cranes under your bed.”

Your heart stops dead in your chest and suddenly you’re furious. Wave after wave of confusion, anger, and betrayal wash over you as he continues to speak. Jinyoung was snooping around your things? Had he read all the messages that Taehyung had written for you over the years? Those were meant for the two of you only, not for anyone else.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm your mind. You want to scream at him. You want to tell him to get out, to leave, to never speak to you again. But then you open your eyes, and you see him standing by your bedroom door, eyes full of tears, heartbreak weighing his shoulders. And that’s when you know that you can’t.

As much hurt as you feel right now being confronted in this way, you know that Jinyoung is hurting even more. You don’t know exactly how long ago he found the cranes—he may have mentioned it, but you still can’t properly focus. You just know that the two of you aren’t meant to be. Maybe you were when you first met, and the two of you really were happy for the year and a half that you dated. But the space between you, both physical and metaphorical, is too great of a gap to conquer. And at this point, you don’t even know if you want to try.

And it’s the uncertainty that Jinyoung reads on your face clear as day.

“I’m going to go,” he says, placing a hand on the doorknob to your bedroom. “But we had a good run, yeah?”

A tear slips from your eye and rolls down your cheek. “The best.”

He shoots you a half smile before shoving his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Lock up after me, okay?”

You don’t shift to rise from the bed, but agree anyway. “Okay.”

And then you’re alone.

You slide your clothes back on, a simple tank top with an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You make sure the front door to your apartment is locked, your fingers lightly grazing over the door handle where Jinyoung had been not moments earlier.

It’s hard to breathe in the silence. You feel your lungs starting to constrict, and then the tears start pouring out. You slide to the ground, back against the door as you cry into your sleeves. It takes you a minute to gather the strength to get up in search of your phone, but all you know is that right now, you’re not okay. Right now, you can’t be by yourself.

You’re dialling the number by muscle memory alone before pressing the device up to your ear. It rings once. Twice. Three times. And then—

“Y/N?”

His voice floods your ears and you let out a sigh of relief as it washes over you. It’s just your name, but when he says it, it sounds like music. You’ve missed his deep baritone so much over the past year that as soon as he speaks, you immediately break down again.

“Tae, I…I…”

“Where are you?” He immediately asks. You hear him shuffling, and the sound of car keys. “Are you at home?”

You sniffle, trying to calm your breathing. “Y-yeah.”

“Okay,” he says gently, and your heart clenches. You really don’t deserve a best friend like him. “I’m on my way.”

He hangs up before you get a chance to argue. You text him your address just in case he’s lost it, although you know that he probably knows it off by heart by now. You know that Taehyung is driving all the way from Daegu, so you curl up on the couch and decide to watch a movie to distract yourself while you wait. The movie plays, some chilling true crime documentary, and you jump slightly when you hear a knock on your front door.

Turning off the television, you scramble over and peer through the peephole.

It’s him.

You throw the door open and you’re breathless, looking up into the molten brown eyes that you hadn’t realized just how much you’ve missed. You just stare at him for a second, eyes searching his face, his brows furrowed in concern. He’s doing the same, taking you in, as if it’s the last time he’ll ever lay eyes upon you.

“Hi,” he says in a rush. You launch yourself into his arms at that, pressing your face to his chest and collapsing into a fit of sobs. Taehyung holds you steady, stronger arms than you remember leading you back into your apartment as he closes the door behind him with his foot.

He guides you to your couch and sits you down before you’re clinging to him again. You feel like an idiot for calling him and making him drive all the way down from Daegu just to comfort you through a break-up, but you suppose that’s the magic about Taehyung. You didn’t even have to ask, didn’t have to say anything other than his name and he was already on his way over.

Taehyung’s arm pulls you closer to his side, and you end up halfway in his lap with your head resting on his shoulder. Your nose brushes against the crook of his neck, and he stiffens for just a second before relaxing once more. He smells like cedar wood and cypress, a comforting smell that fills you with nostalgia.

After a few seconds, you squeak out, “I’m sorry, Tae-Tae.”

He glances down at you, and you can’t help but notice how close his face is to yours. “For what?”

“Making you come all the way here,” you say, moving away from him to give yourself a little distance. The rush of emotions filling you is too confusing—you blame it on the fact that you haven’t seen your best friend in about a year, and not the fact that he’s even broader and more chiseled than the last time you saw him.

Jinyoung’s words echo through your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut. You were just dumped by your boyfriend of over a year, how are you already thinking about someone else? You feel so conflicted, because you don’t want Jinyoung to be right. You don’t want to admit that somewhere deep down, over the course of your lives together, you started feeling something for Taehyung.

Who else would drive all the way down from Daegu to Seoul just to comfort you because he knew you couldn’t be alone? Who else would set aside whatever hurt he felt over the fight you had that made you not speak for a year, just to be by your side at this very moment? Who else does any of the things that Taehyung has ever done for you?

Your chest feels warm, and you know that Taehyung is watching you carefully. His arm is still around your shoulders, but it’s loose, and leaning more on the material of the couch than your body.

He fiddles for a second with the material of your sweater’s hood before letting out the tiniest chuckle through his nose. You turn to face him curiously, and his eyes are distant with thought.

When he notices you watching, he gestures to your clothes. “That’s my hoodie. I was wondering what happened to it.”

You look down at your sweater and swallow past the dryness in your throat. It is Taehyung’s, you realize. You had swiped it from his closet before leaving Daegu. It was your favourite hoodie of his, one that he always let you wear, even though it was his favourite as well. He always said it suited you better, so he just let you get away with it. You had brought it with you to Seoul so that you could bring a little piece of him with you, a small comfort in a difficult time of transition. You’d worn it so many times over the past few years that you forgot it was even his.

Taehyung looks around. “Is Chaeyoung home?”

You shake your head, using the sleeves to dry your eyes. “She’s at her boyfriend’s place tonight. Jinyoung was over, and…”

The implication is there, and you see hurt flash over Taehyung’s expression for just a fraction of a second. It’s there and gone so quick that you’re unsure if you actually saw it or not. You bring your knees to your chest and make yourself small on the couch. Taehyung notices and scoots closer, hand resting directly upon your shoulder as he brings you back into his warmth.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You can talk to me.”

And so you do. You tell him about what happened with Jinyoung, leaving just a few details out. You tell him about how you knew that it was over with Jinyoung a long time ago, but just didn’t have the courage to end things. You tell him how much it hurt to realize you had fallen out of love with him when it was clear that he was still in love with you. He talks you through your breakup, lets you know that you’re an amazing person and the right guy will come along one day and sweep you off your feet in the way that you deserve. That you’ll be loved unconditionally, and that when it’s the right person, you’ll just know.

You look up at him then, and a silent moment passes between the two of you. Taehyung’s lips part gently, and you swear he’s getting closer. You feel drawn to him, like the pull of a magnet, but you know that this isn’t right. Jinyoung left only a few hours ago. And while you can’t ignore the way your heart hammers in your chest, you know that you can’t. Not right now.

“I’m tired,” you whisper before he can get any closer. “I think I need to go to sleep.”

Taehyung gives a quiet nod, but doesn’t look away from you for a second. You swallow, and decide to let yourself be selfish one more time.

“Come with me?”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. You take him by the hand and lead him to your room, shuffling through your belongings to see if you have anything big enough for him to wear to bed. He’s already in a loose shirt, but his jeans pose more of an issue. You see a pair of Jinyoung’s sweats in one of your drawers, but the thought of giving those to Taehyung seems disrespectful to both of them.

“Hold on,” you say, before darting out of the room and towards Chaeyoung’s down the hall. Her boyfriend, Namjoon, is pretty tall and you know he’s left some clothes here before. You find a pair of pyjama pants in her closet and rush back to give them to Taehyung.

After he changes, the two of you slip under the covers. It isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed together, but it’s the first time you’ve done so as adults. Taehyung turns to face you, and you do the same. You feel a tear slip from your eye, and Taehyung lifts his hand to brush it away with his thumb.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, voice deep and gentle.

“I don’t know,” you admit, scooting a little closer. “I missed you, Tae.”

He offers you a smile. “I missed you too, Y/N.” His hand moves from your face to rest along your waist, and you bite at your bottom lip to prevent any unwarranted sounds from escaping at his touch. But you don’t shy away from him either, letting him touch you, letting yourself be held by someone you care so much about and who you know just wants to protect you and keep you safe. “Get some sleep, yeah? We can go for pancakes in the morning.”

You smile at that, an ear to ear grin that has Taehyung smiling in turn. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promises. He leans in and brushes a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead, and you’re glad it’s dark in your room so he can’t see the blush that paints your cheeks. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Tae-Tae.”

You wake up the next morning feeling more rested than you have in ages. You move to sit up but realize that you can’t budge. You glance over to your side and see Taehyung fast asleep, his dark hair mussed and his cheeks puffy. He’s got a leg slung over yours and his arms hug your back to his chest, and he’s snoring just slightly as day breaks through your window.

You can’t help but smile and  allow yourself to sink back into his grasp for just a few more minutes.

Finally, the two of you get up and head over to your favourite hole in the wall diner for breakfast. Taehyung’s only been to Seoul a few times, so it’s a big deal for him to be in the city. He looks at everything with wide eyes and an even wider smile as you walk down the busy streets. You know that he wants to be here, wants to live an exciting life in the city with you nearby. You want that, too. You always have.

You get to the diner and you both order short stacks with way too many sugary add-ons. You’re digging into your breakfast when Taehyung says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I have a surprise.”

You crinkle your nose at the sight of him chewing with his mouth open. “Gross, Tae. What is it?”

He swallows with a roll of his eyes to get you to quit nagging, and it warms you to see that nothing has changed between the two of you. Finally, he announces, “I’m moving to Seoul.”

You nearly choke. “W-what?”

“My parents don’t need my help on the farm anymore,” he declares, and you can see that he’s practically vibrating with excitement. “I contacted the dean of admissions at SNU. You were right, they held onto my admission offer until I was ready. I’m moving here and starting work on my degree.”

After your brain finally processes the information, you lay your utensils down and slip into the opposite side of the booth where he’s sitting and hug him close.

“You’re moving here?”

“I’m moving here,” he affirms. And you feel your heart soar. The world is shifting, and you can’t help but feel like things are starting to move into place.

The two of you catch up over the rest of breakfast, and you offer to help Taehyung look for apartments while he’s here. He tells you that he still has to get back to Daegu, and that his parents are probably going to be worried if he doesn’t return soon. You promise to keep an eye out for listings for him anyway, and you can tell he’s just as excited to be getting out of Daegu as you were. Probably even more so, since he’s been trapped there even longer.

When he leaves, it’s with a bear hug and a promise to keep in touch, for real, this time. You both swear that you’ll never let anything like that tear your friendship apart again, and you tell him that you’ll count down the days until he moves to Seoul.

You get back to your apartment, and you feel lighter. Happy. You think to yourself that you should be sadder, more melancholy over your breakup, especially since you did love Jinyoung and the two of you were together for a long time. But as you tidy up your apartment a little before Chaeyoung comes home, your mind begins to wander.

You start to ask yourself if you were only with Jinyoung as a distraction, if he was right in that you were only using him to forget about someone else. And then once the distraction wasn’t working anymore, you stopped trying to pretend. You run a hand through your hair, wincing at the thought. You hope Jinyoung finds someone who will love him the way he deserves to be loved. He’s a good person, and he deserves a happy future with someone who will cherish him.

Once the common area is clean, you shuffle back into your room only to spot something on you desk. You let out the tiniest laugh at the sight. It’s a paper crane, made out of some scrap paper that Taehyung had no doubt found on your desk. You pick it up and look at the message written on the wing, something you haven’t done in over a year.

It’s longer than the other notes you’ve gotten from him, spanning over both wings, but then you realize that it’s a quote. You’ve heard him say it before, in quiet, contemplative moments. It brings a smile to your face as your eyes dance over the neat penmanship.

“Close friends are truly life’s treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone.”

You chuckle to yourself before carefully pressing the crane flat and holding it close to your heart. Taehyung always did love quoting Van Gogh.

—

You’re twenty-one when you realize you’re in love with your best friend.

With Taehyung living in Seoul, it’s like nothing ever changed between the two of you. You hang out nearly every day, sleeping over at each other’s apartments a few times a week when it’s too late to walk home and neither one of you feel like spending money on a cab. Seeing him happy and thriving in the city brings you more joy that you can express. He takes up darkroom photography as a hobby, and you love looking through his contact sheets to pick your favourite shots.

The two of you are closer than ever. It’s confusing, feeling this way about Taehyung. But you can’t ignore how your heart feels when he’s nearby, how you get nervous around him when he looks into your eyes for a second too long. You tell yourself it’s nothing when you wake up with his arms around you, holding you like you’re lovers, and remind yourself that you’re just friends when he presses kisses to your forehead when you say you have a headache.

You may have been using that excuse a little more liberally than necessary in the recent past.

You’re in love with Taehyung. And admitting that to yourself is easier than you realize. It’s the fear of the unknown, of the possibility of rejection upon confession that has you waiting for the right moment to tell him.

Because how could you not? You two have never kept secrets from one another before, and you know that even if he doesn’t love you like you hope he does, you’ll find a way to work past it. You would rather tell him the truth and hurt for a little if he doesn’t reciprocate, than never tell him and keep more secrets from your best friend.

It’s the end of the year already, and everyone around you is abuzz with talks of New Year’s celebrations. But around this time, you never really think about New Year’s, if you’re being honest. You care more about the fact that it’s Taehyung’s birthday, and that you finally get to celebrate it with him in Seoul after so many years.

You manage to gather up your friends to throw him a surprise party in your apartment, which is where they’re all hiding, now. You and Taehyung had gone shopping for his birthday, and you had plans to go for dinner and drinks later. You tell him that you have to drop off your bags at home first, since you don’t want to bring all your stuff to the bar, and he agrees.

You open the door to your apartment and immediately slap your hand over your face when you see that your polite house guests have all taken off their shoes and left them along the front hall. You chuckle and take Taehyung by the hand, who is also biting back a smile, and lead him to where you both know your friends are attempting to hide.

With a flick of your finger, you switch on the lights. All of your friends jump out of their hiding places and scream, “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAEHYUNG!”

He’s laughing so hard that his eyes have turned into crescent moons. Jimin emerges from the kitchen with a cake and lit candles, leading the singing when it comes time to shut the lights off again. Taehyung looks over at you with adoration in his eyes and you give him a one-armed hug.

“Make a wish,” you gesture to the cake. His eyes linger on you for a second longer before he turns and closes his eyes. He’s quiet for a few seconds, and then blows them out, getting all of them in one long breath.

Everyone cheers and claps before someone, presumably Yoongi, puts on some background music. It’s a chill hip-hop playlist that he curated a while ago that often plays when everyone gets together. If there’s one thing Yoongi is good at, it’s creating sonic atmospheres that fit every situation.

The party is in full swing. People in the kitchen are taking shots, a few of which you and Taehyung participate in, while others are in the living room either having nonsense conversations or playing Settlers of Catan. You notice Taehyung nursing a drink from the corner of the room, observing everyone quietly until he sees you watching him. You put your cup down and walk over to him, taking his free hand in yours and lacing your fingers together.

“I have a gift for you,” you whisper into his ear, needing to rise to your tip toes to do so. He turns to you with a grin and then gestures to the party.

“This wasn’t the gift?”

You laugh and shake your head, a warm and comfortable buzz humming through your veins. “Trust me. You’ll like this gift more.”

You sneak him away to your room, which you had expressed to your friends prior to their arrival was strictly off-limits (Chaeyoung graciously offered to use her room for everyone’s coats and bags). Once the door is closed and the two of you are alone, suddenly, you feel really nervous. Taehyung stands by your desk and his eyes dance over the little trinkets and things, as well as photos he’s taken that you’ve pinned to your wall.

While he’s distracted, you pick up the gift you bought him from under the table and hand it over. It’s in a bag with multicoloured tissues sticking out from the top, and he takes it from your hands with a boxy smile.

Moving the tissues aside, you see his face shift into a look of awe when he pulls the heavy book from the bag. He stares at the cover, holding the tome in his hands as he struggles to find words.

“It’s letters from Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo,” you say, just to cut the tension. “I know how much you love him, and I read a few parts of it from a copy I found at the library a while back. I figured you would like it.”

“It’s perfect,” Taehyung breathes. “Thank you, Y/N. For…everything.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, suddenly bashful. You look up at him and his eyes are on you, and he’s looking at you in a way that you can’t quite read. It’s now or never, you decide, and you take the book from his grasp and lay it on your desk. “I have something else for you. But you have to close your eyes.”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side but agrees, closing his eyes until they fall shut. Exhaling shakily, you take a step closer until you’re nearly toe-to-toe. You gently cup either side of his jaw and lift yourself up, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is soft and lasts only a few seconds, and when you pull away, you lean into his ear and whisper:

“I love you, Taehyung.”

You move to take a step back, bashfully looking away when you feel his arms loop around your waist and tug you flush against him. His lips are on yours again in a split second and you whimper against his mouth as he kisses you for all he’s worth. His hands are everywhere as your fingers tangle in his hair, both of you desperately trying to get closer and closer.

“Never thought I would get to do that again,” he jokes when he finally breaks away for oxygen. Then, as if he’s suddenly remembered something, he says, “I have a gift for you too.”

Your eyes automatically dart down to the growing bulge in his pants. He laughs and swats at your arm.

“Not that, you perv.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a paper crane, one made with paper that has little pink and red hearts all over it. He re-shapes it so that it stands up on its own and gives it to you, and you look up at him curiously before looking at the message.

Your heart nearly stops as you read the words.

“Because I love you.”

Tears are in your eyes as you repeat them. “You love me?”

Taehyung’s grip on you tightens, and he leans his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he affirms. “So much. And for so, so fucking long.”

You kiss him again at that. It’s slower this time, and now that you have both spoken your truths, there’s no need to rush. You’ve loved Taehyung your whole life, and you’ll continue to love him for the rest of it. You feel the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and then you’re tumbling down, taking him with you. The length of his body is pressed flush to yours, his strong, lean thigh parting your legs as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

The moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you is lewd and you have to remember that all of your friends are literally just down the hall. You try to be quiet but Taehyung is having none of that, his large hands playing with the hem of your shirt until he’s tugging it up and over your head.

His lips are everywhere, worshipping you with his mouth and tongue as he nips at the curve of your breast and maps out galaxies across your ribs and stomach. Under his questing fingers and insistent mouth, you feel like an absolute goddess. His touch is so reverent, so intoxicating, that you nearly cry out his name as he presses a kiss to your core through the denim of your jeans.

“F-fuck, Tae,” you whimper as he begins to slowly unzip your fly. “Please, I need you.”

“I have been waiting for years to hear you say that,” he admits, working the material down your legs. He drags your panties down too, and you sit up to unhook your bra. He’s still fully clothed, you realize, but there’s something so sexy about how he’s looking at you, crouched at the foot of your bed, your bare legs thrown haphazardly over his shoulders that you don’t protest just yet.

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh and you can’t help but shiver. The smirk he sends your way is devastating, and you feel yourself getting even wetter at the sight of him with his mouth so close to where you desire him the most.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he murmurs before he’s flicking his tongue directly against your clit. You yelp, not expecting it when he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and alternates between sucking and flicking motions. Your thighs tighten around either side of his head until he pins them open, exposing you completely.

His eyes never leave yours as his tongue gets to work exploring you for the first time. He licks a stripe up your cunt, not too hard, but just enough so that you know he’s there. He pays extra attention to your clit, noticing just what makes your body sing and sigh so that he can do it again and again and again. You jolt slightly when you feel one of his fingers prodding at your entrance, and Taehyung kisses your mons gently.

“Really want to fuck you with my fingers,” he admits. “I’ve been dreaming of it for so long. Can I…?”

“Yes,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. “Please, Tae, fuck—”

“So fucking beautiful,” Taehyung groans as he gathers your wetness on two of his fingers and starts to press them into you. You moan at the stretch, of the feeling of him touching you so intimately. You feel his knuckles slipping past your folds until his fingers are buried deep. Then he curls his fingers in a come hither motion and tugs gently on the front of your walls, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. You slap your hand over your mouth as he rubs that spot over and over, lips and tongue back on your clit. You whimper and try to keep quiet, but the slick sound of Taehyung’s fingers fucking into you and his tongue lapping at your most sensitive area are just too much.

You feel yourself starting to shake, like that coil inside of you is about to snap. You can’t believe how well Taehyung knows your body already, how he can tell exactly what you need. You feel yourself teetering along the edge, and you gasp out that you’re close. Taehyung takes his free hand and fondles your breast, pinching at your nipple until you’re crying out.

“Come on my tongue,” he moans against your skin. “Come on my tongue and my fingers, come for me baby, c’mon, soak my face, I know you can do it—”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you nearly scream. Hands fisting the sheets, you squeak out his name and buck your hips, grinding against his mouth as you come. His fingers keep working inside of you, as does his tongue on your clit, to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. When the feeling starts to border on pain, you whimper and squirm away.

Taehyung kisses a wet trail up your stomach and between your breasts, stopping to lavish each nipple with attention as you impatiently tug at his shirt.

“Get naked,” you whine, gripping his sleeve. “This is torture.”

Taehyung smirks at you, purposely slowing down as he licks and suckles along your neck. “Baby, I haven’t showed you torture yet,” he purrs with an edge to his voice. You can feel how hard his cock is through his jeans, and the rough scratch of denim against your sensitive core is becoming too much.

You start to grind against him, aching for some kind of relief, and it’s your turn to grin when you see him squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” he pants, sitting back on his haunches as he peels off his shirt. You get to work on his belt and his jeans, unable to stop yourself from staring when you see just how big he is. You look up at him with wide eyes and he laughs breathlessly. “You really know how to make a guy feel good, you know that?”

He moves to kick off his jeans and boxers, and then you’re finally both bare, both exposed and vulnerable for the first time. Taehyung places his hands on the bed and crawls over you, pressing his lips to yours to kiss you slowly. The kiss is gentle at first, and then becomes more insistent as he adds more pressure. His tongue on the seam of your mouth coaxes you to open up not only your lips, but your thighs as well. You part both for him as he settles himself against your heat.

Your thumbs massage gentle circles against his jaw as his tongue gently caresses yours. You hitch your leg over his hip and bring him closer, moaning quietly as you feel the underside of his cock brushing against your clit.

“Condom?” He asks, panting. You shake your head.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean,” you say in a rush. “Just wanna feel you. I trust you.”

“M’clean, too,” he promises, dipping down to kiss you again. “Been waiting for this moment my whole life. I love you, Y/N. So much.”

“I love you too, Tae,” you murmur against his lips. You trail your hand down to grip his cock, hot and heavy in your palm. You take some of your slick and pump it along his shaft, and you love the groan that leaves his throat at the sensation. Then you guide the head of his cock to your soaking entrance, and he slowly pushes into you.

The stretch is immense, but not painful as he fills you inch by inch. This, you realize, this is how it’s supposed to feel when you’re with the right person. Taehyung fills you so completely, like the missing piece of a puzzle, and you whimper out his name once he’s reached the hilt.

You feel his hot breath against your neck as he just stays there for a minute, cock pressed deep into you, unmoving. It’s as if you’re both memorizing each other, this feeling of being so close and yet needing to be closer still. You squeeze your walls down on him just slightly and he chokes on a breath.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “We really were made for each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly agree, turning to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I feel it, too.”

He pulls out nearly all the way before thrusting back in, slowly, so that you can both savour the feeling. You sigh out his name and hook your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper, harder.

Taehyung obliges, his lips never leaving yours as he braces his knees on the bed and one hand against your headboard, and starts to fuck you harder. The way he rolls his hips makes you dizzy, and you’re clawing at his back to pull him in even more. It’s so intoxicating, having him this close, bare skin against bare skin, offering up your rawest forms to one another. You feel his heartbeat against yours, pulsing in rhythm.

You whimper at his next deep thrust, one that has you shifting slightly up the bed. The pleasure is starting to overwhelm you. You’ve never felt more safe in anyone else’s arms, never felt more loved, more adored. Taehyung makes your heart soar, and the realization that you want to be with him forever brings tears to your eyes. You gasp out that you’re going to come, and his fingers are on your clit in an instant, somehow always knowing exactly what you need.

His name falls from your lips as you come, clenching down on his cock like a vice. He thrusts shallowly through your orgasm to prolong it as long as possible, his arms holding you as you quake and shiver from the aftershocks. Once you’ve come down, your eyes flutter open and you see Taehyung gazing down at you, his eyes full of wonder.

“You look so beautiful when you come,” he confesses, blush dusting his cheeks and chest. You laugh, a little breathless, and reach up to kiss him.

“Your turn to show me what you look like,” you purr against his lips. “Fill me up, Tae. I want to feel you, please…”

Not needing to be told twice, Taehyung adjusts the angle of his hips and starts fucking you harder, the blunt head of his cock pummelling against your g-spot. You feel that familiar heat starting to pool again, and you’re still shaking from the overstimulation. But Taehyung sees this and keeps doing it, keeps focusing on fucking your g-spot over and over until you’re moaning loudly and the bed frame is rattling against the wall.

“Come with me, baby,” Taehyung begs, lips and teeth on your neck. “I know you’ve got one more in you. Need you to come with me. I’m going to count you down, and then you’re gonna come on my cock. Okay?”

You feel your walls fluttering already, but you try to suppress your urge to come and weakly reply, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he pants, fucking you harder, the wet slap of his hips against yours obscenely filling the room. “We’re gonna come together in five.”

He maintains the same pace, but thrusts a little bit harder.

“Four.”

Harder still. It’s when his fingers land on your clit that you actually let out a scream.

“Three.”

You’re a mess as he fucks you faster, stapling your hips to the mattress with every thrust. You’re certain you’ll bruise after this, marks you’ll wear like badges of honour. But that’s for later. Right now, you need to come, and he’s stalling. You blink up at him and see that he’s watching you, making sure you’re paying attention.

“T-Tae…”

“What number are we at, sweetheart?”

You shiver at the pet name, and manage to squeak out, “Two.”

“Mm, good girl,” he grunts as he buries his head into the crook of your neck and delivers another particularly hard thrust. He feels you shaking underneath him as he furiously rubs at your clit. He can see in your eyes your desperation, your need for him. But he wants to stall for just a second longer. Just a little bit longer—

“Tae,” you cry out, your throat dry. “P-please, I can’t h-hold it, I—”

“One.”

Come, you hear him order. You feel like you’re floating. Like there’s nothing that exists in the universe except you and Taehyung, bathed in a beautiful white light as pleasure ripples through your bodies at the same time. It’s overwhelming, how good he feels, how intimate and right it feels to be with each other in this way. You cling to him, holding each other as you both reach euphoria in the safety of one another’s arms. You feel him filling you with thick ropes of come, marking you as his, and you take all that he has to give until you’ve both come down from your highs.

He lifts his head to look at you, gazing into your eyes before you pull him in for a kiss.

After he pulls away, Taehyung murmurs, “Thank you.”

“Hm?” You nuzzle your nose against his. “For what?”

He grins at you, big and boxy, and the sight alone makes you smile.

“For making my birthday wish come true.”

The two of you quietly clean up and get dressed once again, remembering that there’s a party just outside in the next room. Taehyung helps you straighten up your hair as best he can, though it still looks a little matted in the back. And you try to tame his hair as well, though your determined fingers had been keen knotting his locks. Once you both look somewhat presentable, you place your hand on the doorknob.

“Wait,” Taehyung says. You turn to face him, and he simply kisses you. You melt against him, so happy to finally be able to do this whenever you want. He pulls away and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you respond, and give his hand a squeeze. You intertwine your fingers and open the door, stepping out to rejoin the party.

Chaeyoung is the first to notice when you come back and she literally screams when she sees the two of you.

“Finally! Oh my god, Namjoon, look, it finally happened!” Chaeyoung is still screaming, tugging on her boyfriend’s arm. Everyone then turns and sees the two of you holding hands looking bashful, along with the blossoming dark marks dotting your neck, and a chorus of cheers rings out through the room. You playfully glare at your friends that are blatantly exchanging money, and hide your face against Taehyung’s chest when Jimin and Jungkook come over to high-five you both.

“We have been waiting for this day since forever,” Jimin drawls, alcohol slurring his words slightly. “Kookie and I had a bet to see if you would get together before the end of the year, and you just made it with a day to spare. So now Jungkook owes me fifty bucks.”

“Two more sleeps!” Jungkook whines. “You lovebirds couldn’t wait for two more sleeps?”

“Regardless,” Jimin interjects. “Thank god it finally happened. I don’t think I could have waited much longer.”

“Hey,” Chaeyoung butts in, Namjoon watching her in amusement. “You don’t get to complain about waiting for those two idiots to get together. Did you know I was there when they met? And did you know that I figured out that Taehyungie had a crush on Y/N the second week that he joined our class?”

You look up at Taehyung in alarm. “You’ve liked me for that long?”

Taehyung blushes, suddenly bashful as he gives your hand a squeeze. “Yeah. Since the first day we met. Chaeyoungie figured it out and flat out asked me one day at recess. She had me cornered, so I had to tell her. But she promised she would keep it a secret. And, apparently to her credit, she has.”

“Damn right, I have, I’m a great friend,” she grumbles. “Even though it literally killed me to see you both not acting on your feelings for over a decade.”

“Enough about that,” you say hastily, waving your arms. “It’s Tae’s birthday. Did you want to open presents? I can get you a slice of cake.”

Taehyung just chuckles and nods at your obvious ploy to divert your friends’ attentions. “Sure. Let’s go open presents.”

“Can I also just say,” Jungkook declares, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I don’t know what was going on in there, but Tae, you deserve a high-five.”

You swat at your younger friend in dismay. “Jungkook!”

“You were pretty loud,” Chaeyoung admits with a shrug. Jimin nods pretty vigorously.

“Neither of you noticed when we turned up the volume on the music?”

Taehyung glances at you and scratches at the back of his neck. “Uh, no…we were…a little…preoccupied.”

You groan and slap your hand over your face. “Did everyone hear us?”

From across the room, Yoongi barks, “Yup.”

You’re about to hang your head in shame when Jimin lifts his cup. “I propose a toast!”

You and Taehyung are handed drinks, some fruit punch concoction that Seokjin mixed up. You all raise your cups as Jimin ponders what to say. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers, and beams at the two of you.

“To wishes coming true.”

You lean up and peck Taehyung on the cheek.

“To wishes coming true.”

—

You’re twenty-three when Taehyung folds his 1000th paper crane.

Being with Taehyung is like a dream come true. He really is unconditional with his love, and even when he simply looks at you, it makes your heart beat a little faster against your ribcage. He’s just so passionate and so open about his love for you, and being with him is incredible.

Not that it isn’t also without hardships. Every relationship falters from time to time. Angry words are exchanged, stubborn attitudes have gotten in the way of reason and logic and instead allowed for emotion and hurt to rule. But you always come back to one another, always talk it out. Because you both know that love is a choice, and that being in love and staying in love takes work. And so you both put in the work.

It doesn’t take you both long to decide that it’s time for the two of you to move in together.

And after months of planning, it’s moving day. It’s a day that’s been a long time coming. The two of you were already basically living together in Taehyung’s tiny bachelor apartment, but this new apartment is going to be the both of yours. A shared space for the two of you, one that you can make a home.

You’re unloading the last of the boxes from the truck into your new place, surveying the area with a sigh. You and Taehyung have already decided on what colours to paint the walls and what art to buy, so it’s just a matter of getting everything unpacked and sorted.

“Are there any more boxes left in the truck?” Taehyung asks, stretching out his spine with his arms raised above his head. You plop down on the couch and groan, shutting your eyes for just a second.

“That’s the last of it. Finally.” Cracking an eye open to peer at your boyfriend, you ask, “Did you want to start unpacking now?”

Taehyung shrugs, lifting the lid off a box that’s labelled Kitchen. “Might as well. We can unpack for a bit and then maybe go get something to eat in a few hours?”

You rise up to your feet, heading for your new bedroom. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to make the bed and unpack our clothes, okay?”

He’s already trying to figure out the best place to put your drinking glasses, peering at each cabinet for what feels like the perfect spot. “Okay. I’ll come help you once I finish up in here.”

You make your way into your room, the bed having already been delivered and assembled prior to your actual moving day. You, being the more organized of the two of you, had scheduled your moving day so that it would be a little later in the month. That way, you and Taehyung were able to order your new furniture and assemble it without all the clutter of cardboard boxes getting in the way. Now, it was mostly just a matter of unpacking your essentials and decorating.

Unpacking goes relatively smoothly. You’re done organizing yours and Taehyung’s clothes, placing his silk button-ups on hangers so that they can be properly stored. There’s a pile of flattened cardboard boxes on the ground in the corner of the room, a symbol of your triumph and accomplishments. You’re feeling good, having found your second wind, and reach for another box.

When you lift the lid, you suddenly freeze. It’s the box you packed that has three shoe boxes in it, and you gingerly lift out each one, placing them down on your bed before doing away with the larger cardboard box. You take a seat at the edge of the bed and place one of the shoe boxes in your lap. You lift the lid and see all those paper cranes, made of different sizes and different kinds of paper.

You can’t help but smile, thinking about how Taehyung’s been getting back into the habit of making you paper cranes again recently. He had stopped for a while when you first started dating, maybe giving you one every few months, but as of late, he’s been making them more and more. And the messages he’s been writing on the wings have been for little things, nothing major or monumental like when you were kids.

You recall just last week, he made you one  that just read, “Because you made me the best coffee ever” after you bought a new Nespresso machine. Taehyung always did like celebrating the everyday moments, the ones that you would have probably overlooked. That’s one of the things that makes being with Taehyung so exciting, so wonderful. He makes every day seem like magic.

You’re just in the process of reading some of his old messages, the ones with messier penmanship that were crafted by a child, when you hear a throat clearing by your bedroom door. You look up and see Taehyung smiling at you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Kitchen’s mostly unpacked,” he states, wandering over to you. “What are you looking at?”

Gesturing to the boxes, you smile, “The cranes that you’ve made me over the years.” You scoot over to make room for Taehyung, who immediately takes a seat at your side, thighs touching as he loops one arm around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. Pecking you on the cheek, he gives a low whistle.

“That’s a lot,” he notes. “I can’t believe you kept all of them for all these years. When you see them all in one spot like this, it looks kinda crazy.”

His tone is bashful, almost a little embarrassed. You turn to face him, pressing a sweet, soft kiss against his lips. “It’s not crazy,” you promise. “It’s a beautiful, romantic gesture, and it’s made me so happy ever since we were kids. And it still makes me happy when I look at them. So there.”

Taehyung laughs at your tone of finality and nuzzles his nose against the crook of your neck. “Okay.”

You lean into his embrace, an automatic reflex at this point. You shuffle through the cranes until you find the one you’re looking for. You gasp when you see it, and you carefully pull it out. It’s old and worn, yellowing along the edges, but it’s the one. The one made from a ripped out piece of notebook paper, with butterflies drawn all over it, flying through an open meadow. Your eyes start to well up when you read the first message Taehyung ever wrote for you: “Because you stuck up for me.”

“The first one I ever made you,” Taehyung notes quietly, his arm tightening around your waist. “I remember that day so clearly. I remember when you came over and scared away those bullies, I thought you were an angel.”

You laugh at that, nudging him playfully. “Oh, come on. That can’t be true.”

“It is,” Taehyung insists. “You’ve meant so much to me since we were little kids, you know? And I’ve loved you ever since then. We’ve seen each other grow up, seen the best and worst parts of one another…” Taehyung sits up a little straighter and looks deep into your eyes as he says, “No one in the world knows me as well as you.”

You lift your hand to brush his fringe out of his eyes, lingering to softly caress his cheek as he leans into your touch. “The same goes for me,” you promise. And then you joke, “I feel like you know more about me than my mom does.”

He laughs at that. “Probably.” Taehyung suddenly goes quiet, his eyes focused on the boxes of paper cranes on the bed. “How many have I made for you?”

You ponder for a second. “A lot. Maybe around nine-hundred…”

“Nine hundred and ninety-nine,” he replies. “The one I gave you three days ago was number nine hundred and ninety-nine.”

You cock your head to the side. “Why did you ask if you already—”

Taehyung suddenly looks nervous. You see it in how his expression changes, how his shoulders curl inwards and how his foot taps anxiously against the ground.

“I love you,” he says, and it sounds like he’s saying it for the first time. He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. “I love you, and I want you to have this.”

It’s a paper crane, one that he takes his time properly re-shaping so that it can stand on its own before laying it on the flat of his palm and extending it out to you.

“Number one thousand,” you remark with a smile, picking it up and holding it in your hands. You frown slightly, noticing that it’s heavier than it should be. It feels a little like something is inside of it, and you regard Taehyung curiously when you see that there’s no message on the wing like their usually is.

He bites at his lip slightly, and you feel your heartbeat drumming faster and faster.

“Open it.”

With shaking fingers, you carefully unfold the piece of paper until it’s flat in your hands. You look up at Taehyung, tears rolling down your cheeks, as he slips from the bed and takes your hand, lowering himself to one knee.

Taped to the inside of the paper is an engagement ring, along with the message, “Will you make my wish come true?”

You can barely see Taehyung through the tears, but you’ve never been happier. The way he’s looking at you now, open and honest, makes you even more sure of your answer.

“I know we’re young,” Taehyung says in a rush. “And I know we’re just moving in together now, and that I’m still only halfway done school. But we can always wait to get married, it doesn’t have to be anytime soon, I just needed to ask you because if I didn’t, I was going to explode, and I—”

“Yes,” you laugh, wiping hastily at your eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Taehyung carefully removes the tape from the ring and slips it on your finger, his boxy smile practically blinding as he takes in the sight of you as his fiancée for the first time. Once the ring is securely on your finger, Taehyung kisses you, and it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. You quickly clear everything off the bed, albeit a little hastily, as Taehyung’s curious hands start to wander, and your clothes, one by one, hit the floor.

You take your time with one another, committing each other’s bodies to memory with your mouth and hands before Taehyung finally slides home and has you seeing stars. His touch is like fire, melting away any fears or insecurities about the future until all you can see and feel is him on you, inside of you, offering you forever and you gladly accept with an open heart.

Boxes are left abandoned for the echo of moans along the temporarily barren walls. You never do finish unpacking the rest of the apartment that night.

Instead you fall asleep, tangled in the arms of your soulmate, bare skin against bare skin. You can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Taehyung, though it wasn’t as if living without each other was ever going to be an option, anyway. Not with how the universe put the two of you together. Your best friend, your fiancé, and two years later once Taehyung gets his degree, your husband, and a few years after that, the father of your children.

You’ve never been loved so wholly, so completely, so unconditionally as you have with Taehyung. And while it might have taken him a thousand paper cranes to muster up the courage to propose, but you can’t help but think that he’s been making every single one of your wishes come true since he walked into your classroom in Daegu all those years ago.

You can’t wait for forever with him. So for now, you sleep, the brilliant diamond resting upon your ring finger full of promises of a bright, beautiful future with Taehyung by your side. Just as it was destined to be.

A/N: Finally, it’s done! I hope you liked it. I’ve never written in this kind of format before, so I hope it all made sense. Let me know what you think, and please share it if you enjoyed! Constructive feedback is always welcome :)

[dudeandduchess]

what if papa kyo’s kid didn’t make it through the 1st selection ?

Ooooh, bby. Hope you like it. 💜✨

To make things more painful, why not take a look at Chapter 69, page 16 when y’all are done with this. 😂

Also, I have a lot of thirsty anon asks in my inbox, but I’ll get to them tomorrow— bc I am stumped from everything that happened today. All good things, tho. Sorry, bbys! 🥺

***

Kyōjurō x F!S/O: Final Selection (SFW Scenario):

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, So Many Feels

“Remember all of the breathing techniques I taught you. Keep your total concentration breathing going and-” Kyōjurō couldn’t even finish his sentence, as his eldest son nodded along to humor him— before cutting him off.

“Remember to always keep my heart ablaze.”

The former Flame Hashira chuckled at Renjurō’s cheeky answer, then proceeded to pull him in for a hug; one that had the young boy squirming away from his father, in an attempt to save face in front of his younger siblings.

Meanwhile, the gaggle of toddlers all patiently waiting their turn to hug their brother hung around by the father-son duo’s feet. They had to be on their best behavior, lest their mother punish them for being rowdy on such an important day.

“Kyō, if you don’t let go of Renjurō he’ll be late for the final selection,” (Y/n)’s gentle voice cut through the silence, which had all six pairs of eerily similar eyes turning to her.

Damn her husband and his Rengoku genes; all their kids we basically carbon copies of him; down to their trademark eyebrows— except Ran.

The little girl, thankfully, got her mother’s eyebrows; as opposed to her father’s robust and forked eyebrows. She would have still been pretty, but (Y/n) preferred to see her only daughter with a set of normal features on her face.

Because, as it was, her husband’s face screamed ‘look at me’. He was undeniably handsome, but some people also tended to let their stares linger too much.

Then, as soon as the Rengoku patriarch unfolded his arms from around his eldest child, all his other kids moved in to tackle their brother into a group hug.

The kids were quiet for once, no one daring to break the solemnity of their goodbye. But their silence had more to do with the fact that all of them were trying to keep their tears from falling.

“Look after otou-san and okaa-san while I’m gone, okay?” Renjurō tried to keep his voice even, but failed when his gaze landed on his youngest sibling— and his only sister, Ran.

Ran clung on to his hakama tightly, as if she never wanted to let go; and it broke not only her brother’s heart, but her parents’ too.

Slowly, Kyōjurō pulled his daughter away from his eldest son, before picking her up and rubbing her back in a soothing manner. And, as if on pure instinct, the little girl hugged her father’s neck and began to wail so pitifully.

“I’ll be back soon, Ran-chan!”

(Y/n) had tried to merely look on, so as not to keep her child from being late on his journey— but the sight of the unshed tears in his eyes, as well as the worried furrow in his brows had her crossing the short distance between them, just so she could engulf him in a hug.

It was the first time that he was going to leave their home, and it was safe to say that she was worried as hell— both she and Kyōjurō were, even though the latter had already reassured her that their son would be fine.

Because Renjurō had the makings of a future Hashira, just like his father and grandfather had been.

However, instead of fighting his mother’s hug, the young boy seemed to relish in it, before pulling her mother down into a crouch— so he could press a kiss against her forehead.

Just as he’d seen his father always do before he left on missions.

“I’ll see all of you soon, okaa-san.”

***

It was highly unfair of him to do so, but Kyōjurō had sent his crow to look after his son. Day by day, he would wait for the crow impatiently out on the engawa; even though he knew that there would be no news until the seventh day.

“Otou-san.” The tiny chorus of voices made the former Hashira look up from where he was reading his book, and when he saw his kids, he immediately made a mental note of what page he was on— before setting the book down beside him.

“When’s Ren-aniki coming home?” Eijurō, one of the twins and the second oldest out of his brood, asked softly.

At that question, all four of his children began spouting their own sentiments— ranging from blatant excitement, down to abject worry. And when the kids only got louder, he raised his hands up to silence them.

Immediately, the kids all went quiet; which he took as his cue to stretch his arms out on either side of him and beckon them into a makeshift hug.

“Your aniki will be home soon, okay? He’s going to slay all those demons— cut their heads off without batting an eye!” He narrated as enthusiastically as he could, even though he felt his stomach drop after he’d mentioned Renjurō being home soon.

Still, he kept the smile plastered on to his face, so as not to make his children anymore worried than they already were.

“He’ll be home soon. Just be patient, okay?” The words left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, which had his happy façade faltering. It was just a good thing that the kids had been too absorbed with snuggling against him that they failed to notice the worried look in their father’s eyes.

Later that night, the ill feeling in the former Hashira’s stomach still didn’t cease. No matter how hard he tried to will himself to sleep, he simply couldn’t do so.

And that left him tossing and turning around, all night long.

It wasn’t as if (Y/n) wasn’t used to having her husband practically try to kick her out of the futon throughout the night, but his restlessness set a different tone in the air; one that clued the young woman in to the fact that something wasn’t right.

She’d thought that it was just her being a worrywart, but it seemed to be something else entirely— if even her husband was feeling it.

“What’s wrong, Kyō?” She asked softly, as she sat upright to check up on the blond next to her.

“Something is just-” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, as the flapping of wings cut through the eerie silence that night; it was as if the world was at a complete standstill, because not even the crickets made any noise.

Immediately, the couple scrambled over to the window to see what Kyōjurō’s crow could want at that time of the night.

Only, when (Y/n)’s eyes landed on the torn and bloody piece of cloth in the bird’s talons, a quiet yet hefty sob left her lips. Her entire body felt cold and, if it weren’t for her hold on the window sill, she would have crashed down on the floor.

Still, her knees had grown too weak to support her, that she found herself crouching down— as she clung to the lip of the window with all her might.

“No. No, no, no, no,” She repeated over and over in a whisper, closing her eyes and willing everything to be a bad dream.

And when the crow eventually landed on the window, Kyōjurō could only stare numbly at the torn piece of his son’s kimono. He didn’t even have to check if it was Renjurō’s, because he would know his wife’s embroidery anywhere.

She had painstakingly decorated their son’s final selection kimono with the trademark Rengoku flames, as he’d wanted to look ‘just like otou-san’ with them.

Slowly, with a shaky hand, the former Hashira took the tattered cloth in his hand— unmindful of the blood that stained his skin. His throat felt so tight, and his heart felt like it was breaking in his chest— steadily getting pulverized into nothing more than dust with the pain he felt; yet he could do nothing but get down on his knees and cradle his wife against his chest.

Because he had no one to blame but himself. He had tried to get his son to follow in his footsteps, and he had led him to his demise.

“Renjurō,” Kyōjurō uttered with a sob, only to be followed by more and more pitiful tears— because it was all he could do then. 

He could only cry in misery, because he was never getting his son back.

For all eternity.

[somenewsarah]

Always Been You

Requested:  Yes: “Hey luv x  I was wondering if you could write an imagine with Dracoxreader where Draco gets in a fight with this dude the reader is dating bc he’s just using her but after Draco beats him up he acts like nothing happened bc he doesn’t want the reader to know he likes her.”

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Fighting, soft!draco

Genre: Fluffy Fluff

Word Count: 2.1K

It didn’t take long for Draco to notice you; no, in fact, the first time he laid eyes on you was in second year. Professor Quirrell had just announced that there was a troll in the castle, and you’d bumped into Draco in your haste to get out of the Great Hall, and back to the Ravenclaw common room. He’d never forget how wide your eyes were, or how your voice sounded when you apologized for the collision. He’d never forget the way you looked at him, and from that day on, he was almost infatuated with you.

Now, in sixth year, at the height of Lord Voldemort’s return, you find yourself bumping into the Malfoy boy a lot, almost like he followed you wherever he went. You’d find little fixes on a tear in your bag, or a new book addressed to you in your common room. At first, you thought it was your boyfriend, Marcus Belby, who was your secret advocate, but you were beginning to wonder… No, you were being silly again.

 You sit in the common room, reading through that night’s potions homework from Professor Slughorn when Marcus himself enters. He plops down beside you, and you offer him a small smile.

 “Hello, handsome,” you tease.

 “Hi,” he says, giving you a tight smile. “Doing homework? Great, mind if I grab my books and study with you? These potions lessons are giving me so much grief.”

 “Sure,” you say, sighing softly. He ruffles your hair as he gets up. This was normal for you. It wasn’t a secret that you were one of the cleverest witches in your year, tailing closely behind Hermione Granger, but Marcus usually only appeared when you were doing your homework. You didn’t mind it, though. He’d been busy with the “Slug Club”, a club made by Professor Slughorn for his star pupils. You weren’t in it, but you were happy for Marcus, nonetheless.

 “Got it,” he smiles, sitting next to you on the small couch. He opens his books and begins looking over your own homework, fixing his wrong answers and almost copying word for word what you’d written.

 “How’s the Slug Club?” You ask, hoping just for a small conversation.

 “That? Yeah, it’s alright,” he says, pulling his lip between his teeth as he continues writing.

 “Would you maybe want to tell me about it?” You prod.

 “Y/N, we don’t have to talk about everything, do we? I mean, why can’t we just sit quietly and study together?”

 “I suppose you’re right,” you breathe, not wanting to argue. You go back to your own homework, trying to refocus your brain.

 Weeks go by, and soon the ground is covered in snow, the air is frosty, and you wanted nothing more than to stay outside and enjoy the fresh air. You walk towards the Black Lake, one of your favorite spots to read and think because of the seclusion, when you bump into the blond himself.

 “Draco, hi,” you smile, waving at him.

 “Y/N,” he smiles sweetly; it wasn’t a smile anyone saw often, but you were glad when you got to see it. “I was just heading back into the castle, care to join me?”

 “No, sorry,” you say. “I was heading to the Black Lake to do some reading. Maybe some other time?”

 “Sure,” Draco says. He hesitates as if he wants to say something more, but turns on his heels and continues towards the castle.

 As you continue on your way, Draco turns back once to look at you once, then straightens himself up. He walks briskly through the snow, but he doesn’t make it far when he hears your name from a group of Ravenclaws sitting on the stairs.

 “Y/N’s really great,” Marcus Belby, Y/N’s boyfriend, starts. “Honestly, she lets me copy all of her homework and always asks me about my day. I don’t have to put in much effort. I just need to prepare for my N.E.W.T.S and then I’ll be able to get out of this.”

 “Why would you get out of it?” Another Ravenclaw boy, Terry Boot, chuckles. “Sounds like you’ve got it made, Belby.”

 “Oh, I do, believe me. This is my most brilliant idea yet,” he laughs.

Draco straightens himself up and marches over to the group of boys, still laughing and talking about you like you were nothing but a tool for them to move forward.

 “Gentlemen,” Draco starts, clearing his throat. “Might I have a word with Belby, here?”

 “What’s this about, Malfoy?” Marcus starts, standing him from the bench he was perched on. “Anything you need to speak with me about, you can do in front of everyone.”

 “Very well. I couldn’t help but overhearing you talking about Y/N?”

 “Yeah, what about her? Need some homework help? Belby’s got some tips,” David Hilliard roars. The boys laugh, and Draco huffs, trying his hardest to compose himself.

 “No, I came to tell you to keep her name out of your grimy, selfish mouths,” he says, gritting his teeth as he watches them roar even harder with laughter.

 “I don’t know who you think you are, Malfoy, but I’ll talk about my girlfriend anyway I’d like,” Marcus says, puffing his chest out at Draco. His face was dangerously close to the blond boy’s. “Now run along, mate, before you say something you regret.”

 The laughter had died down and now everyone in the group was staring between Marcus and Draco. The air is tense as Draco’s jaw locks. Almost as if he can feel your presence coming from the black lake, he tries calming himself, but the glint in Marcus Belby’s eyes was enough to piss him off.

 You watch from the top of the hill as Marcus shoulders up to Draco, and you cannot bear it to move. You clutch your books against your chest, watching. Marcus says something through his teeth, but you can’t hear what, and lucky that you didn’t, because Draco takes the first swing.

 His fist connects with a loud ‘pop’, and before you know it, you’re running to the scene. Marcus recoils back, but leans forward with all his weight and tackles Draco to the ground.

 “Draco!” You shout, running faster to get to the group.

 The fight is in full swing now, Draco and Marcus are rolling around in the snow, each getting in cheap punches where they can. Marcus is on top now, railing his fist into Draco’s face, but he doesn’t stay there long. Draco pushes him off just as you reach the scene. You grab Draco’s arm, pulling him out of the snow just as Marcus lunges again. You insert yourself in the middle, glaring up at Marcus.

 “What are you two idiots thinking? You’re going to get expelled!”

 “He took the first hit,” Marcus growls, pointing at Draco. “He should be the one expelled!”

 You turn to look at Draco, but he simple spits some blood from his mouth and turns, walking back towards the castle. You move to follow him, but Marcus grabs your arm.

 “What?” You snap, your eyes ablaze as you glare up at him.

 “Don’t chase after him,” he warns. “I mean it, Y/N.”

 “Don’t presume to tell me what to do,” you say. You snatch your arm away, and turn on your heels. “I’m going inside, we’ll talk about this later.”

 You stalk behind Draco, following him as he turns corners in corridors. You turn the last corner, and he’s stopped, waiting for you with folded arms.

 “You’re following me because?”

 “Draco, what happened?” You demand, crossing your own arms and staring up at him.

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N. Just leave me alone, alright?”

 “No!” You push. “Not until you tell me what happened out there! Why did you punch Marcus?”

 “It’s none of your business. Just go, I mean it,” he says, running his fingers through his blond hair. You sigh and reach up, wiping a bit of blood from his cheek.

 “Draco,” you whisper. He looks down at you, his eyes stormy and grey as ever, his jaw clenched.  “At least let me take you to the hospital wing to get this taken care of. You’re bleeding everywhere.”

 “Y/N, it’s fine. Just let it go. I’ll be fine,” he assures you. “Just go.”

 “Draco,” you finally explode, stamping your foot like a petulant child. “You don’t get to have a full-on fight with my boyfriend, then tell me that it’s none of my business and to just go away. Stop shutting me out, dammit!”

 “You don’t know the things he was saying about you! You don’t know what I stood there and listened to. Trust me,” he says darkly. “He deserved every hit I gave him.”

 “Wha- you hit him because of me?”

 “Just drop it, Y/N.”

 “Draco, please,” you beg, trying a different approach now. You give him your biggest eyes, your lips forming a perfect pout. The pout does the trick.

 “Y/N,” he sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. “He’s using you. Okay? He’s using you because knows how incredible you are.”

 “Incredible?” You ask, tiling your head.

 “Yes, incredible,” his voice is almost a whisper. “He’s using you to help him study for his N.E.W.T.S, because he knows that no matter what, if he’s using your notes, he’s going to pass because he knows how incredibly smart you are. Everybody knows how incredibly smart you are. And funny, and brave, and stubborn.”

 You look up at Draco, your mind swimming as you process his every word.

 “So,” you start, swallowing hard. “He… he doesn’t like me?”

 Draco shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be. I just thought- I guess I thought that after all the gifts and the little things that kept happening this year, that maybe it was him… But I guess not,” you say, your eyes searching the floor.

 “You gave him credit for that?” Draco asks, a mild taste of disgust in his tone. “Forgive me for saying, but he hasn’t been the most romantic creature.”

 “How do you even know that?” You ask, your voice raising an octave.

 “Because no real romantic would take credit for someone else’s work,” he scoffs, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand.

 “It was you,” you say suddenly, the thought coming from absolutely nowhere.

 “Of course it was me!” He explodes again. He paces the length of the hallway. “Who do you think gave you that green bag you liked so much in Hogsmead a few months ago? How do you think that same green bag continues to be repaired seemingly out of nowhere every time you rip it by putting too many books in it? Where do you think all of those books come from?”

 “Draco-“ He stops in front of you, taking your hands in his own.

 “It’s always been me, Y/N, because it’s always been you. Since that moment in second year- do you remember? You bumped into me trying to get out of the Great Hall because of the troll,” he says, his eyes searching yours.

 “Yes, I remember.”

 “Ever since then, Y/N. Every time something bad almost happened… When Professor Slughorn first started teaching and you couldn’t get the potion right, I dropped the right ingredient in to keep in from exploding in your face while you were in the cupboard. And when your robes ripped because Pansy stepped on them, I repaired them. And when you went with the Durmstrang boy to the Yule Ball and he left you, who was there?”

 “You,” you whisper, your eyes locked on his. He pulls you towards him slowly, and his hand reaches up to brush a loose strand of hair from your face. “But, why?”

 “Because you’re special to me, darling. You always have been. You intrigue me without even trying,” he says softly, letting his index finger trail down your cheek.

 “Why did you never say anything?”

 “Because I knew who I was destined to be. Who I am now, is not someone I’m proud of- is not someone you can be proud of. Because you deserve more than who I am now,” he says, dropping his hand. He steps away from you and fixes the collar of his shirt. He turns to walk away.

 “Draco wait,” you say. You grab his arm and, dropping the bag off your shoulder, you pull him to you, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him softly.

 He doesn’t kiss you back at first, almost as if he were still registering that it was even happening. But soon, he’s holding onto you like you’re his lifeline, kissing you back hungrily.

 “It’s always been you,” he whispers, finally pulling away from you. “And it’ll always be you.”

 “I’m gonna hold you to that,” you whisper back, smiling up at him.

 He grins down at you, then pulls your face back up to his and kisses you softly. Finally, your world feels like it’s spinning on the right axis, and you feel at home.

[merci-bitch]

My Precious Sweetheart

Rose The Hat x Fem!Reader

Waning(s): blood, swearing, angst

Genre: Angst

Words: blood, swearing, angst

A/N: This was quite fun to write. Specially with the gif that helped a lot. This is quite angsty and well, emotional but deal with me. I changed it a bit but it’s quite good. I love this so much. I dedicate this to my dear friend @kileyrose-2003​ because some idiot almost drove into her car and because she’s having trouble with tumblr. Love ya!

“Rose! Please come out if your hiding spot! This isn’t fun anymore. I don’t care how much you’re gonna tease me, this isn’t fun. I am scared. You know how I hate this! Please, can’t we just go home? I’ll, massage your shoulders, back, feet anything!”

 I felt a shiver of disgust run through me as I said ‘feet’. Rose and I had been playing hide and seek all afternoon. I know, very grown up but it really was a fun game but not for someone who’s scared of the dark. Well, not really the dark but rather said the feeling of not being alone in the dark. I had all bunch of phobias really. I hated clowns, anything to do with clowns. I couldn’t stand to have sticky or dirty hands. Rose and the others would always make fun of me for it. Whenever we ate hot wings, despite not being a rube anymore it was still very good, I would always wear gloves because I couldn’t help but whimper if I had sticky hands. It’s always been like that. You could call me the ‘little sweetheart’ in the group. I was always too kind to everyone and everything. But back to the phobias, I hated when someone would chase me. Barry would sometimes just start running after me. That was one of the few things Rose took seriously because of my childhood. I’ve had quite the childhood. Being in foster care, jumping from one abusive family to another and being chased everywhere I went. So whenever Barry would chase after me Rose would tackle him to the ground and basically threaten to kill him. This didn’t stop him doing it though. I had gotten used to it, not the fact that I almost have a heart attack every time he does it but that he does it. 

I was quite scared of being left alone. I always panic if I can’t reach out for someone. If I can’t see someone I know a few feet away. I guess it’s from my childhood as well. Being left alone that much and being rejected for being ‘different’ then others. That’s when Rose found me. She took care of me when no one else did, when no one else cared. She was the person I turned to when I didn’t have anyone else. The person who would always ask if I was feeling alright, if there was anything she could to. I owed my life to her. I really did. 

I kept walking further into the woods, looking for Rose. Fee,I gotta my anxiety raise as everything just became darker and darker. “Rose! Please, I don’t wanna okay anymore!” I shouted out into the air. If I knew Rose right, she was probably back at camp. Laughing with the others while letting me get lost in the woods. It was getting quite cold and I didn’t have my jacket. Crossing my arms, rubbing my arms to get warm as I continued walking in the woods. I wouldn’t call myself Rose’s favorite. But I did have a strong bond with her. She always kept teasing me and stuff. When I was 17 I lost my virginity to her. I know this sounds weird and all but I couldn’t think of anyone safer to do it with. Now that I’m 22 I know her, or at least I think I do. She tends to know everything about me but I’m only one third of knowing who she is. She would sometimes be a little overprotective over me. I was an adult, I could take care if myself but she always kept saying she loved taking care of me. Because I was the groups little sweetheart. The precious angel. 

As I continued to walk it was as if I heard someone behind me, someone running? “Rose, I swear to god. Please just come out!” No response. Rose wasn’t the one to just give up like that. But I was genuinely scared, I knew I was lost and it was dark and cold. I heard three branches break, and the footsteps coming closer. I started to panic. Why was she running towards me? She knew I couldn’t stand it when someone ran after me. The footsteps came closer and closer but then, stopped. It was quiet for some time before I felt a Han don my shoulder. Thinking it was Rose I turned around with a smile of relief planted on my lips on,y to meet with a man. A man wearing a clown mask filled with blood. My eyes went wide and soon enough I felt a bag being pulled over my head.

———

Rose was standing behind one of those big oak threes. Laughing quietly to herself as she heard Y/N screams of desperation. Begging her to come out of her hiding spot. But then all of a sudden, Rose heard a different kind of scream. One she’s only heard when she first found Y/N. A scream of terror. Rose has never ran so fast as she did that night. That night when she lost the love of her life. That one little spark she never thought she would find. The night she lost the person who would always set a smile on her lips whenever she was down. 

As Rose got to the place where she heard Y/N’s scream there was nothing there. Only Y/N’s one shoe. And that shoe was filled with blood. Not knowing it was Y/N’s blood or not Rose let out a scream. Shouting for her sweetheart. Shouting for the gods above and praying that her girl was alright. Praying that she would find her and bring her home safe from whatever thing she was witnessing now. Rose sat there, crying over a shoe. Rose never cried. Never. Rose never showed her emotions either. She was a strong and powerful woman and a great leader for the True Knot. The rain started to pour down, and that night where she had lost her sweetheart was soon over.

9 years later

I woke up with a smile on my face. For the first time in a long time. I don’t remember why, but there was just something bugging me. I guess it didn’t matter. Something you don’t remember doesn’t matter right? Anyways, I got dressed and ate breakfast and turned to walk towards the door. Checking myself in the mirror one last time. Making final touches on my shirt, brown hair. Messing with it in the mirror. Laughing afterwards and then walking out, locking the door behind me before walking downtown. Enjoy the nice weather and feeling it as a nice day. 

I walked into my favorite café and order a coffee macchiato and sat down by the window. Reading the book I had brought with me. After some time I felt someone’s presence in front of me. I lowered my book and saw Dan sitting in front of me with a big smile. “Dan! How lovely to see you!” I got up from my chair and gave him a hug before sitting down again. “Its lovely to see you too Y/N” I gave him a smile. “You want anything? A coffee, tea? I’ll order it for you.” Dan shook his head as he took ahold of my hand. “You are always such a sweetheart Y/N. But no thank you, I’m good. I was wondering if you wanted to do me favor” I gave him a smile and nodded my head. “Of course! Anything for a good friend!” Dan sat quiet for some time before I heard it, 

(Will you come with me and Abra to you know where)

(Why would you wanna go back there Danny? And with a kid?!)

(Hear me out Y/N. If the place is dangerous for people like us maybe it is for her too)

(Who is ‘her’ Danny? What’s going on here?)

(I can’t explain it here. She could already be here and she could be listening)

(Listening? You mean she’s one of us?)

(No. Not like us, more powerful and dangerous)

(I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going Torrance)

(You might know her. Her name is Rose, ring a bell?)

I thought for moment but it sounded familiar but I couldn’t really think of anyone I knew. 

(Not really, why?) 

(She’s the one we have to keep us from. She’s the Queen Bitch of Castle Hell. If you mess with her she’ll eat you alive) 

(Thank you for that marvelous introduction Danny.) 

Both me and Dan tensed up. Who the hell, how the hell. We both started looking around but we didn’t see anyone that looked suspicious. I turned back to Dan, a scared expression was planted on my face. “Dan, I’m scared” 

(Did I scare you sweetheart? Oh you poor thing)

I closed my eyes and held my ears, trying to block out her voice. Dan took ahold of my hand and dragged me out of the café, running towards the car. I could still hear her laugh inside my head as he drove away. Abra was sitting in the back and she kept asking what had happened but neither of us answered her. Both still shocked. 

We arrived at the hotel after a very long car drive. Dan had gone inside to wake the place up and Abra was sitting inside the car while I was outside. Taking a break, stretching. I couldn’t help but think over her name and voice. It sounded so familiar. As if I had heard it before. I closed my eyes and started to focus, trying to dig into the back of my head. Trying to find something that could link me with her. Anything at all. Just as I had given up I started hearing her voice again. It as strange. It wasn’t as if she was here, I could hear my own voice after some time. 

‘Darling you have to be careful!’

‘Rose, I’m not a child! I think I can shot an animal myself’

‘I’m sorry, I’m just worried you’re gonna hurt yourself’

‘I won’t! I’m a big girl!’

‘I know. And I love you Y/N’

‘I love you too Rosie’

Images started flowing my mind. Images I never thought I would see. Images of Rose naked, sweaty and how her eyes were filled with pure lust. How her body moved against mine in a special rhythm. How her mouth would form those 3 words over and over again. 

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard Abra scream my name. “Y/N! She’s here, come on!” I looked up and saw Abra standing by the door with Dan. I was sitting in the snow, hands shaking from my shocking discovery. I slowly got up with Dan’s help, feeling how my legs felt like jelly. We walked inside the hotel and made it to the main hall. Abra and Dan walked up and stood on the stairs but I stayed by Dan’s fathers desk for some time before joining them. I couldn’t think straight. Was all these things I’d just seen true? Or was it just pure imagination? 

——

Rose walked inside the hotel. As soon as she entered by the door she felt it. Not only a strong power but a familiar smell. Rose looked both ways before deciding to go right. After walking for sometime Rose stopped and looked to her side. All of a sudden blood started coming out of the elevator. That’s when Rose knew. 

‘She’s here’

Rose whispered to herself as she couldn’t contain the smile that was forming her lips. She continued walking until she reached the main hall and saw her standing right there. 

——

Soon enough she was standing right there. In front of us. A devilish smirk planted on her lips. I had never felt more nervous in army whole life. What if she could just look into my mind and see everything? 

“Well, well, well, hi there!”

Rose said as she leant up against Dan’s fathers old desk. That’s when I heard Dan say 

(When this starts, run)

“Yes you run dear. And then I will find you, and you will scream for years until you die” Rose’s voice was low and raspy. Her fingers lightly traced the old writing machine. I hear Abra speak up, “We’ll see who does the screaming” and Rose’s cold response, “Oh, we’ll see indeed” 

“She’s right you know. You should be afraid” Dan said after some time. Rose leant her head to the side. “And why’s that?” Her eyes shifted from being on Dan to me. Her eyes started to scan my body. A satisfied smirk started forming itself on her lips. “Because you don’t know where your standing” Dan said as he held the ax tighter. Rose eyes tore themselves away from my appearance before answering Danny. “I-I’m sorry, who are you handsome?” I knew what Abra and Dan were gonna try and do. Something inside me felt the urge to stop them. And I did. “Stop!”

I stepped in front of both Danny and Abra, both of them looking confused at me. “Y/N! What are you doing?!” Dan said as a low whisper. I felt a hand travel up my lower back and a kiss on the inside of my neck. The familiar smell of roses and smoke filled my nostrils. “Because, Danny. She’s my precious sweetheart” She gripped my hand and locked our hands together. Dan’s eyes went wide and so did mine. “Y/N? What the hell?! Abra, run!” Dan said as he launched forward with his ax. Reaching out for Rose but I pushed her away, which ended up with me getting axed. Falling tot he ground, blood pouring out of me. The sound of someone choking was heard in the distance. Soon enough Rose’s reflection was hovering over me.

“Sweetheart, stay with Rosie. Keep those pretty eyes of yours open for me”

Rose said as tears started to fill her eyes. She finally found her long and lost sweetheart. She couldn’t bare to lose her again. 

“R-Rosie?”

Y/N said as her eyes started to fall shut, which lead to arise letting out a terrifying scream. 

“No! Sweetie stay awake!”

Y/N’s eyes fell shut in the arms of her one and only savior. Rose O’Hara. 

[fanfiction4thesoul]

In a Moment

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Word Count: ~2.7

Warnings: Fluff and swearing (I think - can’t quite remember), also really cheesy

Summary: Soulmate AU where when you meet the eyes of your soulmate, you relive their entire life and see a few scenes from your future together.

A/N: So I wrote this probably in the span of a few hours but over the course of like 3 weeks so please excuse any grammar mistakes. This semester has been killing me so I don’t have as much time as I would like. Anyway, I’ve always been a big fan of soulmate au’s of any kind, so I thought I’d take a stab at an unconventional one. I don’t know if I’ll write another part to this or not. I’m also contemplating doing a whole series of just different soulmate au’s for the fun of it. Okay, I’m done blabbing, enjoy!

“David, it’s 5 so I’m headed out!” You called back to the owner. It was actually passed 5 but you had stayed to finish up what you were doing. You really needed to get home and study. Exams were right around the corner and if you didn’t sit down and do some real work, you were afraid you might be in some trouble.

You worked at a quaint bookstore close to your university. It offered seating and a small cafe so it was hugely popular with the uni kids. They could come in and study or find a new book to read. Your boss even tried to keep some of the textbooks in stock just to raise business. 

Despite its success during the semester, it never seemed to be busy during exams. You supposed it was because everyone else studied at the libraries on campus. 

“Wait! (Y/N)!” David yelled out before you could get out the door. “Something came up and I have to run. Can you close the shop tonight? Please?”

You hesitated. David was a great boss and you wanted to help, but again, you needed to study. 

“I’ll pay you time and a half.”

Well then. “Okay, but you also owe me breakfast and a coffee tomorrow morning.”

“Deal. Thank you so much, see you tomorrow!” He yelled, barreling out the door in a hurry. 

You sighed looking back at the store front. Guess your day wasn’t over after all. 

The rest of the day went fairly slow, with only a small rush in the middle to fill the void. Customers dwindled as you went back and forth between the bookshelves and the cafe. Before you knew it, the store was dead and you still had a half hour to go. 

The store had marvelous ceiling to floor bookshelves that were beautiful to look at but such a pain in the ass to work around. There was unfortunately only one ladder that was used to reach the higher shelves and you always put it off. That ladder was a little rickety and the floors just uneven enough that you were always afraid you were going to take a tumble. But you literally did everything else you could. You even wiped down the tables twice. So there was nothing left to do but restock and inventory the higher shelves. 

You grabbed the ladder and moved it around enough until you thought it was as stable as it was gonna get. Grabbing a stack of books, you quickly climbed up and began rearranging. 

Everything was going fine. You got through most of the books. It’s when you got to the science fiction section that you felt the ladder wobble. 

Your eyes widened as you tried to steady yourself but your movement jolted the ladder and you lose your balance. Bracing for impact, you closed your eyes and tried to tuck your head in. Just as you thought you were going to hit the hard floor, a soft mass hit you instead and you landed with a small “oof.”

The warm mass that hit you groaned and you realized with a start it was another person. You quickly opened your eyes and shot up from the ground. Looking down, you found a man with long blonde hair spread out over the floor. His bag was thrown across the aisle with the contents spilled out. He rubbed his head, eyes scrunched closed as he sat forward. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You said. “Are you okay? Oh god, you didn’t get a concussion did you?” You were starting to panic a little. Whoever he was just saved you from a possibly hard tumble. But what if you hurt him instead? He probably hit his head on the floor. Can you get a concussion from that? Maybe you should call for an ambulance.

“I’m fine, love. Just smacked my head a bit but I’ll be okay. You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked, looking at his lap and getting his bearings. 

“I’m good, thanks to you,” you said, “here let me help.” You extended your hand out to help him and he finally looks up. Just as he grabbed your offered hand, his eyes met yours. 

And suddenly, you weren’t in the bookshop anymore. 

You’re playing a small drum set while your mother watches on with a soft smile.

You’re riding a bike down the street with your friends. You’re racing to the candy shop at the end of the corner.

You’re snogging a beautiful brunette behind the science building of your school. Her lips are soft but warm.

You feel the harsh slap of your father’s hand across your face. And you feel all the other blows after it.

You tap away a rhythm on the desk with your pencil while your professor drones on about something you already know. You still get reprimed for disturbing the class.

You’re lugging your drum kit to Imperial College after seeing an ad. You walk in with all the confidence in the world because you’re Roger fucking Taylor.

Memory after memory flooded your mind. A lifetime of them. And then you were back in the bookshop, but only long enough to realize that you weren’t Roger Taylor before you were off again.

You’re watching Roger from the wings of a stage as he pounds away on the drums. There are other people on the stage, but you only have eyes for him. He looks up and gives you a dazzling smile and a wink before turning back to the drums. You can feel your smile grow wider.

Roger has his arm around your waist as he talks into your ear. You’re sitting on a sofa together as a party rages around you. You mingled around for a while before you decided to take up residence on the sofa. You’re content just sitting there cheek to cheek so you can hear each other. You only pull away to take a drink or laugh, but also to watch the love and mirth dance around in his eyes.

You’re washing dishes at the sink. When you look out the window you see Roger being tackled by two little girls. They tumble to the ground but you can see them all laughing. An older blonde boy is smiling at the scene from behind a book. Roger grabs both girls, one under each arm and swings them up.

More and more scenes flashed across your mind almost as fast as you could process them.

Roger is smiling at you again. You’re walking down a busy city street hand in hand. He’s old and gray and you can feel his wrinkles against yours as he swings your joined hands between you. But you can still see his youthfulness shine through in his eyes. You break away and demand a race to the end of the block. Winner gets the last of the ice cream at home. You hear his resounding laugh behind you.

As the last scene fades in front of your eyes, you were slowly brought back to the store. 

The man   Roger   was still on the floor but looking up at you with such wonder in his eyes. And you knew exactly why. 

Because you lived his entire life in a matter of moments. It felt so strange. You lived Roger’s life - in its entirety. Only a few moments passed, but you just spent 20 some odd years getting to know Roger inside and out. It felt like an eternity. You knew why he grew his hair out, how long it took him to pick out his clothes today, what made him come to the store, and most importantly, his view on soulmates. 

Which was apparently that they were a load of bollocks. 

And he didn’t want nor need one. 

So while his face showed wonder, you knew yours was apprehensive. 

You never thought you’d be part of the lucky few that actually finds their supposed soulmate. But you most certainly believed in them. Perhaps because it’s a little girls fantasy to know there is someone out there made just for you. The romantic in you couldn’t help but sigh. 

Roger brought you out of your musings, scrambling off the floor to stand. He was still looking at you strangely, and you weren’t sure what was going through his mind. 

“You… that… did you see that? The memories? And the - the-”

“The memories you’re supposed to make with your soulmate? Yes, of course,” you said. Roger’s breath hitched a little when you said soulmate but otherwise didn’t react. You seemed to be the only calm one in the situation. You were almost worried Roger might have a panic attack. 

“I don’t… that is, I didn’t want…” he stumbled over his words. 

“You don’t want a soulmate. Roger, I know. I did just live your entire life. I can’t say I’m not disappointed though.” It stung. Not only because your soulmate was rejecting you. 

But because you loved him. 

Those who found their soulmates were often featured on the news. People interviewed said they did not fall in love instantly. That it wasn’t like they were hit with Cupid’s arrow and all the sudden loved the person. But rather they saw the person in their memories. They learned all their faults, saw them at their lowest, their highest. They had all the years of their soulmate’s life to fall in love with them. 

And now you could understand why. You watched Roger get pushed down by nearly everyone around him. But you saw him rise above that and become the kind, caring, if a bit cocky and arrogant man he is right now. How could you not love him? 

“No! Love, you’ve got it wrong. I thought that. And I know you just saw a lifetime of that but it’s different! Shit, I’m not explaining myself well I swear I’m more articulate than this.” He said, running a hand through his hair. One of his nervous habits. 

“I know.” You gave him a small smirk, trying to relieve some of his tension and your nerves. 

He got it after a moment and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you do.”

“How about this,” you said, hoping to take the edge off some more, “why don’t I grab the book you came here for. You gather your things and your thoughts. I’ll meet you in the cafe, alright?” 

He hesitated for a moment, looking a little apprehensive before saying, “Alright, love. Just so long as you don’t need to climb that ladder. Don’t think we need you falling again.” 

You blinked and looked over at the ladder with the stack of books. You nearly forgot that happened. Even though you just saw through Roger’s eyes how you lost your balance and he attempted to catch you. Gosh, you were gonna get a headache at this rate.

“Don’t worry. No climbing necessary.” You gave him one last smile before turning around and heading towards the medical books you keep in the back area. 

When you got back, you saw Roger sat at the nearest table, bag thrown over the chair as he stared at his hands. 

“Here you go,” you handed him the book. 

He sighed, “Thanks, love. This is a life saver.”

“I know.” You smirked at him again. 

“Is this going to be a running joke?” He laughed.

“Only until it gets old.”

Silence covered you as you waited. He stared at you, making you squirm a little. 

“I think I’ve got my thoughts, if you’re ready to hear them.” He said quietly. 

You nod and watched as he started drumming his fingers on the table for a moment. 

“You know- knew my thoughts on soulmates. There’s no point reiterating that. But I guess you could say a moment changed that.” He tentatively reached across the table to grab one of your hands. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit as he gripped you tight. “I’ve seen your entire life, (Y/N), and you’ve seen mine.” You jolted a little at hearing your name come from him for the first time. After hearing his voice for years and years, finally having it directed at you seemed so strange. But not unpleasant.

He gave you this brilliant smile, lighting up his entire face. “I guess I finally realized what everyone was always talking about when they met their soulmate. It seems impossible and it goes against everything I believed. But in a moment, I fell in love with you.”

You worried your lip between your teeth as you gazed at him. His eyes were sincere and he seemed to mean it. But you also had memories of such sweet words being whispered to the conquest of the night. 

Roger shifted in his seat beginning to look a little uncomfortable. “Please say something, love. I may have been inside your head for the last 20 odd years, but I’m not in it now.” 

You stared at him for a few moments longer. Just when you thought he might burst, you say, “The… other girls.”

“Would you call me a sap if I said they were just distractions, even if I didn’t know it at the time? I’ve been passing the time, not knowing I’d end up here with you.” His smile was bashful though you could hear no lie behind it. 

You wanted to tease him a little though, “I would call you a sap, in fact. Because you always heckled your friends over believing in soulmates.”

“Aw, c’mon, love! I’m putting myself out here.” He pouted at you. 

You smiled. “And you deserve every second of this, Roger Taylor! But that’s okay, because I love you too.” 

It took him a second, but he finally processes your words. The smile was spreading across his face as his grip on your hand tightened. Suddenly, he was pulling you forward, leaning halfway across the table. 

Your face grew heated again as he was only a few centimeters away from you. His eyes roamed over your cheeks before looking into yours. Just as he leaned in and your began to close your eyes, the door jingled as it opened.

You were about to spring apart, embarrassed to have been caught, but Roger just gives you a smirk and yanks you to him. His lips are warm and soft and you let yourself melt into the kiss.

That is, until someone cleared their throat behind you. You reluctantly pulled away. Roger gave you a half smile and release his hold on you.

The customer that interrupted you was some girl your age looking for a book on medieval paintings. You were quick to find her what she needed, ring her out. All the while you felt Roger’s eyes tracking your movements. Whenever your eyes darted over in his direction, he was still sitting at the table, legs crossed and that beautifully annoying smirk on his face.

When you finally locked the door behind the girl, he gets up as well, meeting you at the door. “As much fun as I think we’d have locked in here by ourselves, I’ve got to get back to my flat and study for my exams. My roommate will have my head if I flake. I should have been back by now.” He looked apologetic, like he didn’t want to leave.

“Brian, right?” you ask. He gave you a nod. “I understand, I have to study as well.” Again, you nearly forgot about your own life with Roger’s still so fresh in your head.

“Look, (Y/N), now that I found you, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” He pulled out a slip of paper and hands it to you. “Just in case you forget,” he said, tapping the side of his head. On the paper is his flat number. “Call me when your exams are done, yeah?”

You felt yourself slowly smile as you stuck the slip into your pocket. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

He kissed you again, just as sweetly as the first time. He left with one last backwards glance towards the shop, a huge smile on his face. You couldn’t help but lift your finger to your lips, reveling in the tingle he left there. Exams couldn’t be over quick enough.

[heath-ur]

00Q Kinktober - Day 11

Prompt List ;Ao3  Pairing: Bond x Q   Prompt: Kitchen Warnings: Smut, No Beta

James swings by to Q-Branch to pick Q up for dinner, as is becoming a habit. The grin Q shoots to James as he walks through is becoming a habit, too. “Welcome Home, 007.” 

James smiles back. “Good to be home, Q.” He steps closer. “Can I steal you away for dinner?” He might ask Q, but he looks to R for confirmation. She barely looks over her tablet and nods, making a lazy shoo gesture with her other hand. It makes James chuckle and Q puff up in offense, but he leaves easily enough so there must not be much that needs attention at the moment. 

“Are you really intending to take me to dinner? Or can I convince you straight to my flat?” Q asks with mischief as they leave the building, taking James’ hand in a way that was too new to become a habit… yet, anyways. 

James hums. “I could be convinced… but when have you eaten last?”

“Oh, recently, I’m sure,” Q tries to waive the concern off. It might have been more successful if his stomach hadn’t taken the moment to growl. James laughs. 

“I’m going to assume that your kitchen is just as bare as I left it. Which means: take-out… Or, shall I invite you to mine?” James says it with level teasing, but Q nearly trips over his own feet in shock anyways. 

“You’ll really let me?” Q asks. “We don’t have to, if you’re unsure?” 

 James just tugs Q closer to wrap an arm around his waist and keeps walking towards his vehicle. “It was never a big deal - I just have a roommate that normally intimidates my dates and is very particular about his belongings. You might have met him before - He also goes by a number and enjoys cursing in Russian.”

Q blinks up at him. “Alec. . . you live with Alec, which is why you’d never invite me over before?” 

James nods, “No needs to sound incredulous. You know we’re close friends. We’re normally never in London at the same time so it doesn't get crowded. But we also don’t like to be surprised with unexpected houseguests. So we have rules. Well, rule. No conquests or strays are to be brought home.” 

“So Alec won’t mind?”

James stops walking so he can cup Q’s face in his hand. “Surely you know, Q. You’re far more than a conquest. For either of us.” 

Q blushes and clears his throat before turning forwards once more. “Well, then. Lead on.” 

~*~

Once out of the elevator, James leads them straight to the open concept kitchen, removing his suit-jacket and draping it over the back of a barstool. He rolls up his sleeves while he checks the fridge and freezer for ingredients and pretends he doesn’t see how Q oggles the muscle tone on his forearms. “How does pasta sound?”

“Great.” Q offers his opinion as he steps around the bar to inspect the rest of the living space. The living room and kitchen were all one room, similar to his flat. However, where his place looked cluttered by books and cat hair, the Double-Oh’s place looks modern and sleek. Spartan. A flatscreen took up the majority of one wall in the living room, and the coffee table and couch was completely cleared of items. The kitchen was much the same - devoid of anything on the counter excluding a very expensive coffee machine. 

Inspection over, Q steps over and wraps his arms around Bonds back, grinding his half-hard cock into James’ pert asscheek. James laughs and reaches back to squeeze a handful of Q’s. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to wait? Truly, I’ve other appetites I’m more interested in indulging at the moment.” Q gives a small bite to an edge of skin over James’ collar. Not enough to mark, just to tease. 

James makes a cross between a groan and growl and twists out of Q’s hold just to come back close, wrapping one of his own arms around Q’s waist and slipping the other in Q’s hair. They kiss, fast and ravenous, as James guides Q’s back into the counter, using his hand in Q’s hair to get the slighter man just where he wants him. 

“I’ve been convinced,” James speaks when the kiss breaks. “I only worry that you’re insatiable.” 

Q pouts. “I’ve missed you.” He grinds into James like James needs more proof.

James laughs. “Alec has been gone on mission for a while too, hasn’t he? Our poor kitten, unfulfilled.” 

Q nods mischievously and hikes himself onto the counter, “I’ve been so empty with the both of you gone. Fill me up?” 

“Who am I to refuse?” James murmurs before he guides Q’s long legs to wrap around his waist and goes back to kissing Q, sucking marks on his throat when they both need a little air. 

Q makes a fussy sound that James successfully interprets to mean there’s too much clothing between them. He goes for the buttons on his own shirt while Q tackles his cardigan, each man flinging clothing off as it comes free. 

James jerks Q closer to the edge of the counter and starts working on the man’s trousers, getting them and his pants down around Q’s calves as Q flails and kicks off his shoes and toes the clothes off the rest of the way himself. Before Q can begin on James’ trousers, James pulls the packet of lube and condom out of his pocket. 

Q snorts and raises an eyebrow before he gets his clever fingers to work on James’ button fly. James’ boops the younger man on the nose, “You’re the eager one here, darling, so you really shouldn’t be making fun of my preparedness.”

Q reaches into James’ pants to free his cock and give it a few pumps, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He suddenly dismounts from the counter and twists to bend himself over the granite, removing his glasses and putting them a safe distance away. “Come on; I want your cock.”  

James growls and is quick to pin Q over and down by a hand in his hair and rips open the packet of lube with his teeth. One hand pours the cold liquid down on Q’s crack and asshole directly, making Q jump and moan, pressing his head into the cool of the granite in return. His cock starts drooling, dripping down the cabinet front, which he will try to be embarrassed about later. 

James doesn’t hesitate to press a finger fully inside, sliding quickly in and out, rubbing the gel around Q’s rim before quickly pushing with two fingers this time. Q bucks back on the fingers, riding the digits as much as James’ grip in his hair allows, fucking himself. “Yes, yes,” He mumbles into the granite, fingers slipping across the surface as he tries to find somewhere to grip. If he stretches far enough, he can grip one side of the counter, which he does, so that he can get more leverage. 

More scissoring and twisting, then suddenly James’ s gloved cock is pressing in at his entrance. Q sucks in his breath and releases it explosively, relaxing as he does. James takes it as the invitation it is, and slides in on one smooth glide. 

“God, yes… This.” Q hisses and rotates his hips as much as the position afford him. “I’ve missed this.” 

James bends over to chuckle in Q’s ear, nipping any flesh he can get near his mouth, “Me too, darling. Me too.” 

He stands upright starling quickly, one hand clenching into Q’s side so Q can’t move and inch, cock still impaling him. And then he just stays still.

Q whines and tries to wiggle, rolling his forehead back and forth against granite countertop. He can feel James’ cock twitch inside him. Can feel how James suppresses a thrust into a small hitch. “James, please! Please, James. Don’t make me wait. Please!”

After another moment, James sighs and releases his unrelenting grip, slipping both hands around and down Q’s flat back, gun calluses rubbing just right against all that flushed skin. “Okay, Kitten. Shh-shh. Okay, darling. Here we go.” He takes the wings of Q’s hip bones into both hands so that he can’t slam them into the edges of the counters and begins to thrust, swift and purposeful, changing the angle bit by bit until it glances that spot inside. 

Q shouts; moans and tilts his hips just right so James can keep hitting that angle as he goes. Perfect. “Perfect. James, please, James. Oh, I’m close. So close.” The last ends in a whine as Bond pulls Q back on the latest thrust to meet him, skin clapping at the impact before Bond grinds and there!

Q comes in a flash of white behind his closed eyelids, fingers and ass spasming as he rides his release in a way that triggers James’ as well. They stay there and breathe for a moment before Q reaches for his glasses. 

His hands find something else - metallic but warm to the touch. He opens his eyes in surprise and makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Is this my beretta?”

James shifts more of his own weight back onto his own feet, slipping gently out of Q’s clenching heat. “I believe it’s considered my beretta,” He speaks evenly as he removes and disposes of his condom. 

Q ignores his quip and steamrolls on, “What is my beretta doing in your kitchen when it should be back in the equipment locker?” He turns around to lean against the counter, beretta in hand aimed in the air as he brings it closer to his face, the better to examine the scratched sides. “Any why does my beretta look like it’s been scraped down the roadside?” His eyes cut up in James’ direction in ire when James just chuckles. 

“I accidentally left it in my back holster. I put it down on the counter before my trousers slipped down my legs.”

“I hope you realize I don’t believe that for a moment. And that still doesn’t explain this damage.” Q glares. 

James retrieves Q’s glasses and gently slips them on Q’s face as he takes the gun back. “Why don’t I tell you over dinner?”

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 13

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~4800

Rating: R (adult language - like too many f-bombs to count, here)

Summary: Drake tries to process his most recent decisions in regards to Liam and Riley, but some of the palace guests and residents make that difficult.

Author’s Note: So, yeah. I’m back at this story. I never intended to take so long between chapters, but this content here is basically the reason I didn’t just write Chapter 1 as a one shot, but instead turned it into an actual fic. Well, it turns out getting this all out of my head and into words was a real struggle. I could keep playing around and tweaking this indefinitely, but y’all have been patient enough, so without further ado, let’s get back into things here. We last left Riley leaving Cordonia to return to NYC while Drake stayed for Liam. Meanwhile, Olivia had just discovered that her aunt was involved in the recent attacks. This picks up that same afternoon.

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

The Cordonian royal palace had a total of six different lounges, but only one of them was truly a private lounge, tucked away in a back corridor of the royal family’s residential wing. It had been the location of many nights of drinks and cards over the years. The group in attendance had varied, starting with Leo and Bertrand years and years ago. Tariq and Rashad both would drop in if they were in the capital. And more recently, Maxwell had hustled Drake out of more money than he cared to admit over hands of poker. But really, the only constants at these private card games had been Liam and Drake himself. It was strange to sit there now, alone in the middle of the afternoon. But Drake had wanted a drink and a smoke, and it was the only place in the palace where he would find both whiskey and an ashtray and be likely to be left alone.

Drake didn’t know how he felt, exactly. Not that he was ever great at putting his feelings into words, but today was even harder than usual. He didn’t really feel sad. More empty. Hollow.

He took the last drag from his cigarette as he kept rooting through the bar until he found the bottle of Yamazaki 18 tucked behind several other bottles of scotch and whiskey. If there was ever a day that warranted the good stuff, today was that day. Drake poured himself a double on the rocks before carrying his glass and the ashtray over to one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He knew he was wallowing, but he figured he’d earned it. Today just plain sucked.

The drive back from the airport had felt kind of covered in this sort of surreal haze. Had he really just let her get on a plane and leave? But what else could he have done? He had to stay. For Liam. And he couldn’t ask her just to hang around while he dealt with all that. It wasn’t fair to her. She, unlike him, actually had a life in New York. Asking her to abandon all of that just to sit around as some sort of fucking emotional comfort for him was selfish.

And truth be told, her being around would probably be counterproductive. It seemed like the three of them being in the same room was just a recipe for awkwardness. If Drake was actually going to be there for Liam, Riley’s presence would not make things easier. Even though Liam would never say anything, it was clear to anyone with half a brain that seeing him and Riley together was just adding stress. That he wasn’t coping with their relationship as much as he wanted to project that he was. And Drake certainly wasn’t going to stick around just to throw his happiness in Liam’s face. That was the opposite of his goal.

Still, watching her walk away from him at the airport had torn something deep inside him. It felt wrong, and he missed her already. God, he was a pathetic mess. He took a sip of his whiskey before lighting up another cigarette, but was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.

It was Leo. Of course he would be the only other person at the palace looking for a stiff drink well before cocktail hour. He strolled in, whistling to himself until he caught sight of Drake, his eyebrows shooting up comically.

“Hey, what are you still doing here? I thought your flight was today.” he asked after a moment, continuing over to the bar and grabbing the bottle of whiskey Drake had left out.

“Yeah, well… I decided to stick around for a while.”

Leo looked up from the bar, seeming to stare at Drake with those words. “You’re here by yourself?”

Drake swallowed roughly, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray’s edge. “Yeah, Liu flew out.”

The only sound was that of a glass being set on the bar and the splash of liquid as Leo poured himself a couple fingers of the whiskey. He took a sip of his drink before he stepped around the bar, raising his glass toward Drake is if in a toast. “I can’t say I’m not a little relieved.”

Drake took a drag off his cigarette, trying to gauge how pissed that should be making him. Leo didn’t always think things through fully, so he probably didn’t mean much by his statement. Still, for him to be the one to give him shit about sticking around? Well, it was pretty damn annoying.

After another sip of his drink, Leo chuckled as he continued, “I thought I was going to have to fly out and track you down again for a moment, there.”

Okay, maybe Leo did mean something. Drake bit his lip, trying to control his temper. He knew he was already on edge, and at the end of the day, Leo really wasn’t worth it. But his patience was tested as Leo continued, “I mean, I get it, the whole ‘following some girl halfway across the world’ thing, but I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”

“My senses?”

“Well, yeah. I know, chasing skirts is fun and all, but at the end of the day, you gotta admit that you belong here, right?”

Drake swallowed, trying to find his words before he spoke. He was trying to control his temper, he really was. But today had sucked enough without having to listen to Leo spout this bullshit.

“I mean, you did have me worried for a minute there. That pussy must be truly spectacular for both you and him to lose your minds over it.”

Drake heard a loud rushing in his ears and realized he as out of his chair and striding over to Leo before he could even think about what he was doing. Leo’s eyes widened and he maneuvered himself behind the bar, the fear evident in his eyes.

“Relax, man. I didn’t mean anything, really. I’m sure she’s a great woman. All I was trying to say is that I’m glad you’ll be here for him.”

“Right, because otherwise you might have to act like his actual brother, not just some drinking buddy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Leo. You’re not gonna stand there and act like you’ve been the brother he deserves, are you?”

Leo scowled, taking a long drink from his glass before he responded, “Just add it to the list. One more way that Leo is a fuckup who could never measure up to his perfect, saintly little brother.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Drake groaned, rolling his eyes. “Nothing you can say will ever make me feel sorry for your irresponsible, hypocritical, entitled ass.”

“You have no idea what the pressure is like! You have never had to carry that weight, knowing you would never be able to-”

“I’m not talking about your abdication, Leo!” Drake yelled, smacking his hand down against the top of the bar. “That’s a whole other thing, and I don’t really want to get into right now. I’m talking about the fact that you have been a shitty brother to him since day one. And guess who always had to be there to pick up the slack?”

“Ah, yes. Drake Walker - a modern-day martyr. Your life has been sooo difficult, what with the living rent-free at a palace, drinking top shelf whiskey, going horseback riding on private trails whenever you wanted. Tell me again of the great woes and tribulations that were thrust upon you because of your burdensome friendship with His Majesty. I know he asked so much of you.”

“Classic Leo, deflect away any real criticism. Nothing is ever your fault, is it? Your father expected too much. The world just didn’t understand you. You weren’t cut out for this life. It’s your own fucking greatest hits album, and I’m so goddamn sick of it. But you know what? Play the fucking victim. Tell me again how fucking hard your privileged little life is. I honestly don’t give a shit. But I’m not gonna stand here and listen to your bullshit tales of how I was somehow the one who mistreated Liam.”

“Let’s see - you fucked the woman he loved and left him alone while terrorists tried to kill him. Am I leaving out any other recent developments?”

“Are we just gonna pretend that the first 28 years of his life didn’t happen? Because last time I checked, you haven’t exactly been some beacon of brotherly support. And rich of you to give me shit for choosing one woman to be with when your whole life has been nothing but a string of girls you claimed were different that all the ones who came before. First there was Charlize, then Fiona, or did Katrina come before her? Then Gigi, and that redhead whose name I never did find out, then-”

“Liam wasn’t in love with any of them. Besides, it’s not like you were some celibate monk all those years.”

“Yet someone I was able to find a way to sleep with women and be there for Liam. You on the other hand, were always just a bit too busy to find time to call and check in.”

“I love my brother, and I tried to be there for him. I’m sorry if my best isn’t up to the impeccable Walker standards,” Leo sneered, finishing his drink and slamming his glass down on the bar.

“You tried? Really? Leo, you took a fucking private jet and dragged me away from my life because you couldn’t handle his actual emotions! Then you dumped the crown on him without a backwards glance! I was always the one who had to clean up the mess!”

Leo opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to defend himself, but the door to the lounge swung open, stopping the two men in their tracks. There was Liam, a scowl etched across his face, “I thought it might be best to inform you that approximately half the palace can hear you right now.”

Drake swallowed roughly, trying to control the anger rolling off him in waves. Fucking Leo. At least he had the decency to look guilty, dropping his eyes to the bartop and taking a deep breath before he spoke again.

“How much did you hear, Liam?”

“More than enough, Leo. Would you mind giving me a moment with Drake?”

“I should have known you’d take his side.”

“You and I will talk later. Right now, I need to speak to Drake.”

Leo stared at Liam for just a second before shaking his head and brushing past him on his way out the door. Drake waited until his footsteps trailed off before he spoke.

“If you had heard some of the shit he was saying, Liam, you-”

“I did hear ‘some of the shit’ he said. I, along with numerous palace employees, heard many things that both of you said. That really isn’t important at the moment. What I’m most interested in is your statement that he dragged you away from your life.”

“Liam, come on. Let’s not do this.”

“Do what, exactly? I am merely asking you to clarify the circumstances under which my brother-”

“Cut the diplomatic bullshit. If you’re going to fight with me, don’t talk to me like I’m some foreign dignitary.”

Liam just shook his head, “I’m not trying to fight with you, Drake. I didn’t even know you were still in the country, so imagine my surprise to hear you and my brother with raised voices, airing what seems to be years of personal grievances loudly enough for all the staff to hear. I’m simply trying to figure out what set both of you off. Leo isn’t usually one who angers like that, so it strikes me that this might be serious.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I'm the one who flies off the handle? The hot-headed commoner can’t control his temper, huh?”

Liam’s eyes widened and he took a beat before he continued, “What the hell is going on with you, Drake? I’m not even sure why you are here, but you seem determined to be furious with someone right now. Why don’t you just take a deep breath and try and-”

“Don’t you dare try to tell me to calm down. Don’t fucking placate me just to fucking keep the peace. I’m not some foreign diplomat, Liam. I’m supposed to be your friend. So don’t fucking treat me like we’re in the midst of a treaty negotiation.”

Liam sighed heavily. “Drake, all I want to do is figure out what is bothering you. I care about you, and I know whatever transpired between you and Leo-”

“Cut the bullshit; you came in here with a purpose. You had a question for me.”

“That’s not important right now. Hearing the way you are getting upset, seeing you here at all, I just-”

“Ask me your goddamn question, Liam.”

Liam hesitated for just a moment. He was clearly trying to gauge whether Drake was past the point of no return here, some part of Drake’s mind could sense that fact. But right now, his blood was pumping. His frustrations from the past few weeks had boiled over, and he was pissed. At Leo. At his life. At himself. And Liam must have realized that, because he decided to feed the beast, knowing there was no other way for Drake to have any sort of rational discussion if he didn’t do him the courtesy of granting him this. 

“What did you mean when you said Leo dragged you away from your life?”

“Did you really never figure out how I was able to afford a last minute flight to Cordonia when I was a broke university student?”

“Leo bought you your ticket back?”

Drake let out a harsh chuckle. “Try Leo fucking showed up on campus, took me in a towncar to a private airplane hanger, and put me on the fucking royal jet.”

A range of emotions rolled rapidly across Liam’s face. Confusion. Shock. Deliberation. But finally, a firm hardness settled into his eyes. Liam was in full-on negotiator mode. It wasn’t a role he had to play often, but when he did, it was always a sight to see. He was poised and calculated and sure. It was great to watch him corner people who mistook his kindness and compassion for weakness. Or at least, Drake had always reveled in it before, when it was directed at presumptuous foreign leaders or entitled and under-prepared nobles. He’d never felt it directed at him. 

“So would it be fair to say that it was out of obligation, not friendship, that you returned to Cordonia?”

“No, I came back because I cared about you and I was worried about you.”

“But you never would have returned if it wasn’t made clear to you that I was struggling to cope. You weren’t worried about me. Leo, the fucking flakiest man on the planet, was worried about me. You just served your role. Well, consider you obligation to me over.”

“Liam, stop it!” Drake tried to cut it, but Liam was far from finished, his words piercing through the room like a dagger.

 “I now understand what you meant about you being the one who had to clean up the mess. I was just some liability punted from Leo to you.”

“Come on, that’s not-.”

“No, you ‘come on,’ Drake. It was obviously in reference to me. In what ways was I such a burden to you? In what ways did I hold you back from your real life?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

“How did you mean it Drake? Anyway I can fathom you meaning it undercuts years of friendship, does it not?”

“No, it doesn’t! This is a two-way street, Liam. I know for a fact that I’ve been a burden to you at some points, too.”

Liam paused, swallowing roughly before he continued. “I never saw it that way. I was grateful to be there for you, someone I consider to be family. You were never a burden to me.”

Drake sighed, “I’ve never been as optimistic as you. I’m sorry that my phrasing is harsh, but you know me. I’m not saying that your friendship is some drain on me. But it is a fact that I had to walk away from some things after that assassination attempt. And I don’t regret doing it; but yeah, I left some things behind.”

“Are you sure you don’t regret it? Because listening to you now, it certainly seems like you hold some resentment there, if it still affects you years after the fact.” 

Drake rubbed his face. How had this spiraled into some discussion of his decision years ago? “Look, you needed me then. Everything else kind of fell by the wayside.”

“I may have appreciated your return, but I certainly didn’t need you. You didn’t even realize that I was struggling. I would have been perfectly able of coping on my own.”

Liam paced away from Drake at that, trying to put some distance between them. Honestly, it somehow pissed Drake off even more. This was fucking revisionist history bullshit, that Leo was some intuitive brother, a saint who tracked down a comfort for Liam out of the goodness of his heart, not some responsibility-phobic asshole who booked it the second things get hard.

“Liam, I don’t know whether you needed me or not. But the fact is having me here was helpful, so I stayed. Not just because Leo asked, but because I cared more about your struggles than my own.”

“But I never asked you to do that! And now, years after the fact, you somehow still find a way to hold that against me.”

“What are you talking about?”

Liam spun around and stalked over towards Drake. He had a burning look in his eyes, but he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, as if he were trying to hold back this raging fire of anger and pain inside of him.

“I always looked past the fact that you were envious of me, understanding that some of the privileges of my station might appear to outweigh the burdens from an outside perspective. But now, hearing all of this, I just wonder if…” Liam trailed off, seeming to gain control of himself once again before he continued speaking. “Nevermind, it’s not important.”

“No, go on and say it.” The anger churning inside Drake wanted, no needed, to hear whatever thought Liam had apparently had decided was worth censoring from him, the one person he was never supposed to have to censor himself around.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s fucking infuriating. You started the thought; you might as well finish it.”

Liam closed his eyes briefly before opening them and staring Drake down. “Fine. I wonder if you didn’t pursue Riley as a way to get back at me.”

Drake paused for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around the absolute insanity he was hearing. “What the fuck, Liam?”

“Maybe not consciously, but yes, since you clearly have some sort of resentment you hold against me, I just have to wonder if you maybe you went after her because you knew how much I liked her.”

“Went after her- God, do you really think so little of me that you think I toyed around with some poor woman just as part of some misguided revenge against you? I don’t even know how to respond to that, Liam. It’s so fucking insulting.”

Liam dropped his gaze at Drake’s statement, having the good grace at least to realize that statement was pretty horrible, but Drake felt more and more words coming up. It seemed like once he and Liam started down this road, he just couldn’t stop the thoughts from flowing out, unchecked and without pause.

“And not just to me. She is a grown ass adult who is perfectly capable of making up her own mind about her own relationships. It’s not like she just sat around, staring off into space, waiting for one of us to come along and convince her to be with us.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, Drake. It isn’t fair and you know it. I have never treated her with anything but the utmost respect and hospitality.”

“That’s how you treat a distant relative who needs a place to stay for a few days. It’s not how you treat someone you want to marry!”

“Well, I don’t think open disdain is the best way to treat a romantic partner, either.”

Drake knew it was an earned dig. After all, he hadn’t exactly held back with his early cruelty towards Riley when speaking with Liam all those months ago. But to have his first impressions thrown in his face, when he had eaten so much crow and opened up to the woman in question so much? When Liam seemed to be stuck on his own first impressions of Riley? It just pissed him off all over again.

“I at least always treated her as an equal. I didn’t put her on some impossible pedestal she was bound to crash from.”

“I did everything in my power to show a woman that I was falling for her, that I adored her, and somehow that is a problem? I respected her roots and her background with kindness and gentleness. I tried to arrange ways to make her feel comfortable in a new country. I researched how to woo someone who had never been part of the nobility. I did everything I could think of to welcome her into this world. I courted her the best way I knew. In fact, I showed her far more affection than any of the other women here for me, even though it weighed on me that I wasn’t treating the rest of them fairly. Explain to me, Drake, how that degree of romance is somehow less desirable than sarcasm and condescension.” 

“You are so fucking blinded by your cloud of royal entitlement, and you can’t even fucking see it. ‘Here for you?’ News flash, Liam - Hana and Maxwell figured it that we were together. I’m pretty sure Bertrand did as well. Hell, my sister claims she knew something was going on between us, and she met Liu for all of an hour. Why is it that you are the only one who didn’t see that something was going on between us?”

Liam opened his mouth to retort, but Drake kept pushing, “I’ll tell you why - you like to think you’re this down to earth royal, but the fact of the matter is, you could never envision a woman willingly choosing to be with me when she had the option to be with you. And maybe I’ve been a shit friend to you in some ways, but guess what? That makes you a pretty shit friend, too. Because you’re willing to sit here and imply that my love is not real, just some petty revenge because you were more important than I could ever be. And you know what? It’s bullshit.” 

“Tell me, Drake - what is the appropriate response in your mind when you find out the woman you were pursuing was sleeping with your best friend and neither one of them saw fit to clue you in?”

“She tried to clue you in. Sure, she could have been more blunt, I guess. But did you really not notice that she stopped sneaking away to meet up for all of your little secret rendezvous? Or how about the fact that she stopped kissing you? But you kept after her. Because of course she was into you. What woman wouldn’t be? Who would choose to be with the lowly commoner instead of the handsome king?”

“Instead of playing the victim here, you could at least treat me with enough respect to acknowledge that you, while claiming to be my best friend, lied to me and let me look like a fool. You could have saved me a lot of pain and heartache. You made the conscious decision not to, and yet you have the gall to stand here and act like I was the one in the wrong.”

Drake glanced away, taking a swig from his glass, but unfortunately it was empty. He couldn’t even get a little distraction as Liam let him have it.

“You always see the worst in people Drake. You claim they see you as less than, that you are somehow treated as worse than others around you based simply on the fact that you were born a commoner. But you never take ownership of your own actions. You expect to be treated with respect when earning your respect is a monumental task that almost no one could ever hope to achieve. You write people off simply for having the misfortune of being born to a different social class, not acknowledging that they have as much control over their heritage as you do over yours. And you expect to be treated with dignity without offering any in return. 

“And I tolerated it, because I knew that there were some people that did treat you as second class, and because you always respected me enough to be one of the few people in my life who granted me complete honesty. But now, that is called into question, because you lied to me, repeatedly. And I have to wonder if you ever cared for me, how you could be so callous in the way you treated me in all of this?”

The question hung in the air, sitting there. It smothered the lounge in thick layer of suspense, neither man able to move forward and speak, yet at the same time unable to look away from each other. Drake felt equal parts guilty and damaged. It seemed like for every critique he’d had of Liam, Liam had his own to hurl right back. Neither one of them held the high ground here. They both were metaphorically beaten and bruised. Eventually, a sharp knock on the door broke the tense silence. After a few more seconds of staring at each other, Liam finally spoke.

“Come in.”

“Of fucking course,” thought Drake. Who else would be here but Olivia fucking Nevrakis? 

“Your assistant told me I might find you here, but he looked awfully uncomfortable about that fact. Did he send me to interrupt a lover’s quarrel?”

Drake refused to dignify her with a response, but the complete silence from both of them clearly spoke volumes. Olivia rolled her eyes slightly before she spoke again.

“As much as I would like to stay for the inevitable brawl and see who wins this, I have something to discuss with His Majesty that’s rather time sensitive. Liam, do you mind?”

Liam turned to face Olivia, but even in profile, Drake could sense him plastering on his diplomatic mask once again. “Of course, Lady Olivia. Let’s head to my office.”

And without a backward glance, he was off, falling in stride with Olivia as the two of them exited the room. As soon as the lounge door swung shut, Drake sank into the closest chair, letting out a long sigh. He felt like he had just thrown up, but in that way when you’ve been nauseous all day from a stomach flu, and then when you finally puke, you somehow feel awful but somehow better all at the same time. 

Telling Liam all these thoughts he’d kept to himself. Telling him the thoughts he didn’t even realize he’d been keeping to himself. Well, it was damn cathartic. To have it all out in the open felt like a relief. Even if Liam had his own issues to throw out there. Hell maybe because Liam had his own issues with him. Finally, they were talking. Really talking, not just beating around the apple tree. And that had to be progress, right?

Sure, as the adrenaline from the fight wore off, some of Liam’s barbs sunk in. And boy, did they sting. But at the end of the day, Drake somehow felt that this was better than their stilted half conversations and awkward small talk. At least this was real. And quite frankly, today kind of felt like rock bottom. That meant things could only improve from here. Drake just had to figure out how.

@dcbbw @mfackenthal @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @thesumofmychoices @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer   @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @ao719  @ooo-barff-ooo @octobereighth @sunnyxdazed

  @wickedgypsymoon

@carabeth

[emospritelet]

Prompt for a later chapter in Sparks: Does Ember smell/sense pregnancy and how do baby dragons respond to another pregnancy? Especially if Papa is being more obtuse than normal and Mama is just figuring out what is happening to her?

Sorry it took me so long to pick this up again, but better late than never.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

AO3 link

By Midwinter, the Dark Castle was warm and surprisingly snug, insulated by magic to keep out the bitter mountain winds and the sharp bite of frost.  Belle hummed as she decorated the Great Hall with holly and ivy, feathery crowns of mistletoe hung from doorways and chandeliers.  Rumple had even brought a tree inside again, and it stood near one of the large windows that looked out over the snow-covered grounds, awaiting the boxes of trinkets that would decorate its branches.  A few of the ornaments appeared to have gone missing, and Belle suspected that Ember had taken them, attracted by glittering gold and coloured glass beads.

Rumple himself was out, away on a deal far to the east, and while Belle enjoyed accompanying him on his travels, he had insisted she stay behind this time.  She hadn’t minded too much; it was likely he wanted to buy presents, and she was more than happy to be surprised on the day of the festival with what he would give her.

Belle tucked the last of the holly sprigs onto the mantelpiece, and sighed, knuckling the small of her back where a twinge caught.  She had been on her feet all day, and they ached, but she had insisted on decorating the Hall by hand rather than with magic.  It was an enjoyable task, but she had been up since dawn baking cookies and collecting the greenery. It was now almost suppertime, and she was desperately tired.  She had not seen Ember since lunchtime, the castle suspiciously quiet, and she was dreading what she might find when she finally tracked down the little dragon.  Ember had recently started catching and eating small rodents that found their way into the castle, and Belle had stepped in the eviscerated remains of more than one victim, much to her despair.  Rumple had said that she would soon learn to eat the things whole, but in the meantime it was a case of watching where one stepped.  Being the adoptive parent of a dragon wasn’t the easiest job in the world, especially when one’s young charge had a tendency to set things on fire when she sneezed.  

Ember was now around nine months old, too large to ride on Rumple’s shoulders (not that it stopped her trying to clamber up there when something had spooked her) and should be learning to fly soon.  Rumple had been coaxing her to spend a little more time in the East Wing, where he had cleared out one of the towers for her.  He was hoping that if she were to see the outside world from high up, she would start trying to flap her wings, but so far Ember had flatly refused to go any higher than the door outside their bedroom.

Turning on her toes, Belle called to the little dragon, but there was no response.  Frowning, she walked out of the Hall and down to the kitchens, wincing a little on her sore feet.  Ember was not curled by the stove, another favourite place of hers, and so Belle sighed and made her way wearily up the stairs, heading for the library.  It was empty too, and Belle sank onto one of the couches with a sigh of relief.  She called again, and heard a faint shriek from somewhere in the castle, but Ember did not appear, and Belle frowned, wondering what she was up to.

Since Rumple had left the castle, she had been acting strangely, sniffing suspiciously at Belle’s outstretched hand, then scampering away with a rattle of claws and swishing of her tail.  Belle had initially assumed it was the changes that had been introduced, bringing the greenery into the house and installing the tree in the Hall, but when she thought about it, Ember had been skittish for a week or two, wanting to snuggle with Rumple at his spinning wheel rather than curl up at Belle’s feet as she read.  When she did approach Belle, she would croon a little, blinking her amber eyes and flattening her body against the floor as though she wanted to make herself smaller.  It was almost as though she thought that Belle was angry at her, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Belle tapped her foot, teeth tugging at her lower lip as she pondered Ember’s strange behaviour.  She called again, more sharply, and there was another answering shriek.  It was a little louder, and Belle whistled, hearing the tapping of claws against stone tiles, changing to a rattle as Ember clambered up the wooden stairs to the library.  A red-scaled snout, gleaming with gold tints, poked around the corner.

“There you are!” said Belle gently.  “Come here, sweetheart!”

The snout moved, revealing large golden eyes and ears laid flat against her head.  Belle had seen that look before, and it usually meant that Ember had done something she knew she shouldn’t.

“Please tell me you didn’t eat all the cookies I made.”

A huff and a ring of bluish smoke indicated the negative.

“Good.  Then why are you cowering?  Come here.”

Ember slunk into the room, belly low to the ground, approaching Belle by an indirect, circular route that ended with her just out of reach.  Belle shook her head.

“Don’t you want to be petted?” she asked.  “What’s wrong?”

Ember shuffled forwards a little further, gently nuzzling Belle’s hand and then flattening herself against the floor, as though she was afraid she had overstepped her welcome.  It was very strange.

Pushing to her feet, Belle walked over to the shelf that housed their small but expanding collection of books on the care of dragons.  Selecting one that focused on behaviour, she slumped onto the couch again and opened it up. There had to be answers there somewhere.

x

“Nose in a book as usual, I see.”

Rumple’s voice made Belle start, and she looked up with a smile.  He was grinning at her, snow speckling his hair and the shoulders of his coat, the candlelight picking out the golden flecks on his skin as he tossed a leather sack onto one of the chairs.  A grating squeal made them both jump, and Ember tackled him in a blur of red and gold, tail swishing excitedly as she knocked him on his back.  Rumple let out a grunt of surprise, head thumping against the floor, and Belle giggled as Ember nuzzled him over and over, crooning as she rubbed her head under his chin.

“Someone missed me, it seems,” he remarked, scratching her neck and making her back foot twitch rapidly, eyes closed in pleasure.

“She’s been acting oddly,” said Belle.  “I’m glad you’re back, I wasn’t sure what to make of what I’ve been reading.”

Rumple lifted his head, eyes narrowing as he read the book title.

“Dragons: a Behavioural Study,” he said.  “What does it say?  Is she ill?”

“I don’t think so,” said Belle slowly, glancing down at the book again.  “She’s all over you, same as ever, but she’s been acting strangely towards me. Staying out of my way, crawling on her belly whenever I call her to me… It’s almost as though she thinks I’m angry with her, as though she’s trying to show deference, but she’s never been like that before.”

“Hence the book.”  He gave Ember a final scratch, pushing her off him gently and getting to his feet.  “What does it say?”

He sat beside her on the couch, and Belle handed him the book.  Ember crawled slowly around to Rumple’s end of the couch, where she settled against his legs, head on one knee.  Rumple scratched her ears absently as his eyes scanned the page.  He frowned, and read it again.

“‘Adult dragons prefer solitude and mark out their own territories, which they will defend aggressively’,” he read.  “‘Males have little involvement in the lives of their young past conception, and will be chased out of the territory of any female with a clutch of eggs or a growing brood.  Female dragons are devoted to their young, and are excellent mothers, but once the young dragons are grown sufficiently to enable them to care for themselves, it has been observed that the mother will often chase them away from her nest, so that she can prepare to breed again.  Young dragons will try to appease their mother by submissive behaviours in order to delay the process’.”

He looked puzzled.

“Does she think we’re going to throw her out, is that it?”

“Well, she’s certainly been exhibiting the behaviours mentioned,” said Belle.  “I don’t understand.  Does she think we’re going to find another baby?  It was spring when we got her, and she certainly isn’t full-grown.”

Rumple snapped the book shut, staring at her.  His breathing seemed to have quickened a little, his eyes as wide and golden as Ember’s own.

“Not a dragon, perhaps,” he said, almost to himself.  “Sweetheart, how do you feel in yourself?”

“A little tired,” admitted Belle.  “Exhausted, actually.  I’m sure it’s just the Midwinter preparations.”

“And - and is there anything else you’ve noticed?” he pressed.  “Anything at all?”

“I - oh!”  She put a hand to her mouth.  “The new moon came and went, and I didn’t bleed.  In all the excitement I’d forgotten!”

Rumple’s eyes had widened further, his breathing shallow.  The tip of his tongue wet his lips nervously, and he patted Ember’s head, getting to his feet and striding from the room.  Belle heard his feet thundering on the stairs as he went up to his workroom.  There was a crashing of glass and loud swearing, and then rapid footsteps descending once more, and he burst into the library, breathing heavily and waving a tiny vial of a potion as clear as water, if far thicker.

“Here!” he said breathlessly.

“Why didn’t you just poof yourself up there and back down, if it was so urgent?” she asked, and he paused.

“I don’t know,” he said, looking stumped, and shoved the potion at her.  “Spit in this.”

“Ew, Rumple…”

“Please!” he said desperately.  “It’s the fastest way to tell if you’re - if we’re—”

He snapped his mouth shut, as though to say the word would curse the result. Belle stood up, reaching out to squeeze his arm with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.  Inwardly her heart was thumping just as fast as his, but she took the vial from his hands, tugging out the cork stopper and putting it to her lips as she worked some saliva into her mouth.  She spat as daintily as she could, and Rumple took the vial from her, re-corking it and shaking it vigorously.  He held it up to the light, and the clear fluid inside turned a vibrant, sparkling purple.  His lower lip trembled as his eyes met hers.

“A child,” he whispered.  “A child born of true love.”

Belle felt her breath catch in her throat, tears stinging her eyes.

“Really?” she breathed.  “We’re - we’re going to have a baby?”

He tucked the vial into the pocket of his coat, opening his arms so that she could hurl herself into them with a sob of joy.  He held her close, kissing her hair, her forehead, her damp cheeks.

“Thank you, Belle,” he said softly.  “Thank you, my love.”

“I think you had something to do with it too,” she pointed out, and felt a low chuckle rumble through him.

She pulled back a little, looking up at him, and he kissed her gently before pressing his brow to hers affectionately.  Their heads turned as one towards Ember, who was curled by the end of the couch, watching them with a downcast expression.

“She must have sensed it,” said Belle.  “She must think I’m going to chase her away to make room for the new little one.  She must think I’m going to chase you away, too, which is why she’s been so eager to be near you all the time.  Poor thing!”

“Well, let’s reassure her.”

Rumple let his arms slip from around her, and they both approached Ember slowly, stopping when she began to shuffle backwards.

“Ember darling, no one’s going to chase you away,” said Belle gently, squatting on her heels.  “I love you and I love Papa.  Very, very much.  We’re a family, and we’re going to stay that way.  And when the new baby arrives, you can help look after it.”

Ember’s ears pricked up.

“You’ll have a very special job as big sister,” added Rumple seriously.  “When the baby gets big enough to walk around on its own, you can protect it from anyone that might try to harm it.”

Ember pushed up off her belly, raising her head, and edged closer.

“If anyone really threatens our baby, you may have to chase them off,” he added, making her eyes brighten further.  “Or set them on fire, I don’t care which.”

“Rumple!”

“Don’t tell me you won’t be every bit as protective of our child,” he said, and Belle smiled, letting a hand drop to her still-flat belly.

“No immolation unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she said firmly, and Rumple tutted, sharing a look with Ember.

“Mama never lets us have any fun.”

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 38

Summary:  You’ve just opened an occult bookstore in Lebanon, Kansas, when you fall for a tall, handsome customer…literally. You soon find out that there’s more to the world than you ever suspected, including you. Discovering your heritage puts you directly in a witch’s crosshairs, though, so the Winchesters offer to take you in and teach you how to protect yourself. As you discover your own family history with the supernatural and your own hidden talents, you can’t help but wish a certain brother was as excited about your interest as you are.

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1729 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

After two weeks of watching Y/N through the feeds and listening to her nightly reports on her days, Sam was beyond frustrated. Every book the Men of Letters had on Hell indicated that Hell was remodeled fairly often, so any map ever made would most likely be obsolete. Sam’s own forays into Hell had not included anything like what Y/N talked about in her reports. Sam knew she was trying to get information to him without Crowley figuring out what she was saying, and he admired her for trying. She would talk about architecture of the area she was in, or decorations she thought were pretty, or even pretty horrifying. Apparently most of the artwork on the walls fell squarely under the “pretty horrifying” label. The bottom line was, though, that Y/N had actually managed to give him a fairly good picture of what her wing of Hell looked like. If he ever found himself there, he’d know he was at least close. How to find her part, though, was the problem.

Cas had been busy talking to reapers, trying to find a reaper willing to transport them to Hell and guide them to Y/N. Although there were several reapers willing to take them to Purgatory, as Ajay had once done, few were open to the idea of entering Hell proper, and none knew their way around well enough to find Y/N. The prospect of being in Purgatory gave all three men mixed feelings. Cas saw it as a necessary evil to be tolerated, but Dean saw it as a chance to possibly see Benny again and convince him to come back topside. Sam saw the good and the bad of going through Purgatory. The good was that they knew their way around. The bad was the idea of Y/N having to fight her way through a wasteland of monsters when she wasn’t yet properly trained.

In an effort to find a different way, Dean had summoned a crossroads demon and tried to get the information they needed through traditional methods, even though it would alert Crowley to what they were doing. The demon was unhelpful (unless you count giving Dean something to take out his frustrations on), and Crowley had threatened to cut off the feeds when he found out one of his demons was dead. Sam was spending his time in the library, searching for tracking spells or transportation spells that could take him directly to Y/N. So far, he hadn’t found anything that didn’t either have worrisome side effects, or couldn’t do exactly what he needed. Everything he had found might work if Y/N were above ground, but not when she was in Hell. Transportation between realms was tricky, and best left to the reapers.

Sam was starting to strategize with Dean about ways to get Crowley to give up Y/N voluntarily. So far, they had bubkes, as Dean had put it. Sam sighed and laid his head down on his arms on the library table, surrounded by open books and notepads full of his scribbles. His despair was interrupted when he heard his phone chirp and buzz across the table. It was a text message from an unknown number.

I can help you get Y/N back. Meet me where you lost her at 3AM. Don’t be late.

Sam stared at his phone in silence, his mind running a million miles a minute. Finally, he got Dean’s attention and showed him the text.

“Sam, you know that could be a trap. That could be Crowley trying to take us out!”

“I know it could be a trap, but I doubt it would be Crowley. Crowley has us exactly where he wants us right now. What leverage could he get from us bigger than Y/N? If it’s a trap, it’s someone else, but who else knows that Crowley has Y/N, and where we were when we lost her? No matter what, it’s worth checking out, at least. I mean, we have to go. If there’s even a chance, Dean, then we have to.” Sam knew he was giving Dean his best puppy eyes, and could only hope Dean would agree.

“All right, but we go prepared for anything, and see if Cas can get here in time to go with us. What’s with the middle of the night meeting time? That’s freaky, right?” Dean pulled out his phone to call Cas.

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed. Sam looked at his watch and began counting the hours until 3AM.

When 3AM finally came, Dean, Cas, and Sam were all in the Impala, waiting for their mysterious contact in front of the fake bunker location. All three jumped in their seats when he appeared from nowhere in Baby’s headlights. Sam was the only one who recognized him, though. He shot out of the car and ran at the newcomer, demon knife in hand, almost tackling him to the ground. Sam was stopped within a foot of his destination, frozen to the spot, struggling to free himself of his invisible binds.

“Is that any way to treat someone who is risking their own life to help you, Mr. Winchester?”

“Help me? You’re the one keeping Y/N prisoner, Godfrey!” Sam continued struggling, focused solely on trying to get at the demon he had watched serve Y/N for the past two weeks. Dean and Cas got out of the car and approached the two warily.

“Godfrey? That’s the demonic butler Crowley has taking care of Y/N, right?” Dean looked to Sam for confirmation, and Sam nodded. “Why would you want to help us? You work for Crowley! If he finds out you’re here, you’re toast.”

Godfrey sighed and turned to Dean. “Yes, I work for Crowley, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Sam stopped struggling, and Godfrey let him go. Sam almost fell down from the sudden lack of resistance, but caught himself just in time.

“Give us one good reason why we should believe you,” Cas demanded in his typical stern manner, “or I might just smite you right here.” Cas took a step towards Godfrey, who took a step back and put his hands up in surrender.

“I come in peace. I swear. Crowley has messed with me for the last time, so it’s time I messed with him a little, that’s all. See, until a month ago, I was a crossroads demon. Not just any crossroads demon, though; I was set to break his record for soul deals for the year. I love my job, and I’m good at it. Better than Crowley ever was, and it’s killing him. When he realized that I was getting close to taking over the title ‘King of the Crossroads,’ he started messing with me. He’s been giving me extra assignments that take me away from my work, saying that it’s training for advancement. So, I did what he asked. My last assignment was to infiltrate Rowena’s network and get her here so you guys could finish her off. When I was successful, I thought I was golden. It would be all loose women and baby’s blood forever.” Godfrey snorted derisively while Sam considered the words spoken with the clipped snooty accent. “Ha. My so-called promotion was to become manservant to a human! And not even an interesting human, a sniveling sad sack human that doesn’t even fight!”

Sam jumped at that, and Godfrey held him at bay again, this time with a gag over his mouth. Sam tried to speak, but only muffled noise came out of his mouth.

“I know, don’t talk about her that way, blah blah blah. The perks of being a guard in Hell include being able to knock around the prisoners when they misbehave, but Crowley’s orders are not to harm her. Where’s the fun in that? This isn’t a promotion, this is a punishment, for daring to be better than Crowley. Well, anything would be better than catering to a simpering human, so here I am. I’ll help you get her back, with the promise that Crowley never knows I was involved. With her gone, even if he finds some other meaningless job for me to do, at least I won’t be shopping for the perfect cantaloupe because her humanness needs to eat fruit every day.” Godfrey rolled his eyes and huffed, letting Sam go at the same time.

Sam looked at Dean and Cas, who both shrugged and looked back at him. “All right. Say we believe you. How can you help us get Y/N back? You can’t fight with us, or Crowley will know you’re the leak and take you out.”

“I can give you a map of where Crowley has her, along with where the guards are and where you can break in from topside. See, he’s keeping her close to his throne room, which is in the part of Hell closest to above ground. In fact, part of his throne room actually is above ground. He likes the natural light that comes in through the window, or some such shit like that.” Dean barely stifled a giggle at the demon’s curse through his stiff, upper crust accent. “Even as warded as they are, those windows are a weak point. Not to mention that the wards are intended more to keep things in than to keep things out. Agree to keep my involvement out of it, and not kill me when you storm the place, and I’ll tell you what the view from those windows is. Find the windows, break in, get the girl, and get out. Even better, I’ll tell you when the best time to do it is.” Godfrey looked from Sam to Dean to Cas, waiting for a response. “Come on, you fools! I’m offering to spoon feed you a rescue plan, and all you can give me is dumb looks?”

Cas was the first to speak. “How do we know we can trust you?”

Godfrey sighed. “You can’t. I’m a demon. But I’m the best offer you’re going to get.”

As the demon all but tapped his toe impatiently, Sam, Dean, and Cas considered his offer. Without any discussion beyond the wordless conversation the two men and the angel had perfected over years of working together, they turned to Godfrey and nodded.

“We’re in,” said Sam.

“Good, now let’s get down to business.”

[bootscootinbullshit]

Red Bull Gives You Wings

(Warren Worthington iii x Reader)

A/N: This imagine is based on a sleepover my bestie @2ptonpt and I had and I got messed up on Red Bull. A true happening. Enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1k+

Summary: Warren is struggling with calculus and you have to stay up and help him study for his test. The only way is to pull an all nighter, but the only thing keeping you awake was also the only thing that your boyfriend doesn’t have a tolerance to. 

It was one in the morning when you heard a soft knock on your bedroom door. You stood up and walked over towards the door. Before you could open it you heard soft ruffling. It’s Warren. You barely had the door fully opened before he marched in.

“Just invite yourself in, it’s fine.” You sassed. He glared at you halfheartedly and flopped onto your bed. Warren groaned into your pillows while you sat on the edge of the bed. A quiet whimper left Warrens lips when you started rubbing slow circles on the sensitive muscles between his wings. When Warren gets stressed out you’ve found this is one of the fastest ways to calm him down.

“War, baby what’s wrong?” You whispered, laying your head down on his broad shoulder.

“I have a calculus test in six hours and I remember absolutely nothing.” He cried dramatically, throwing his head back as he flipped himself onto his side facing you. You look down at him and smiled softly. A small giggle escaped your lips and eventually you couldn’t help the barking laugh that escaped. He stared at you with an unimpressed look on his face.

“Babe,” you smiled,

“I took calculus last year.” 

“So you’ll help me?” He looked at you hopefully from where he was at. Like you could ever say no to his green puppy eyes.

“Yes, Warren I’ll help you.” Warren leaned up and smashed his lips onto yours. You smiled into the kiss and pulled away.

“I’ll get the Red Bull.”

That was the first mistake.

You shot off the bed and raced towards the door. When you pulled it open you looked back at Warren, smiled, and blew a kiss. You dashed towards Peter’s room knowing he possessed the stash of energy drinks you hoarded. You approached the door banged on it, waiting for Peter. It wasn’t even a second before he yanked it open. 

“What?” He raised his eyebrow,

“It’s one am and it’s a school night, why are you awake?”

“Well damn, I thought you’d be a little happier about my presence” You quip sarcastically,

“I just need my stash of Red Bull because Mr. Worthingto-”

“Sucks at math and needs Y/N’s beautiful brain to function?” He shot. 

“This isn’t the first rodeo.” With that he was off. You blinked and he was back with the pack of yellow Red Bull.

“Here, now go back before Warren has a brain aneurysm.” Before you could say thanks he shut the door.

“Well, that was generous.” You spun on your heel and rushed back to your room. As you opened the door you noticed Warren had already stripped into a pair of sweats.

“This is a sight.” You mumbled trying your best to not stare. Shutting your door, you set down the Red Bull and jumped onto the bed. As you hit the bed Warren snapped his head up and smirked.

“What?” You asked while you opened the small box containing the “Go Juice” as Scott called it.

“Nothing you’re just hot.” He spoke eyeing you.

“How romantic,” You quipped handing him one of the small cans.

“But no, I know what you want and you have a test to study for.” When you said that he leaned back and put a small pout on his face. He popped open his can and took a small sip of the one thing that’s going to keep you both alive.

The thing that will possibly kill your boyfriend.

“So what are you struggling with?” You questioned grabbing his binder that was sitting on his lap.

“All of it.” He groaned.

“Okay, drama queen. We’ll start with exponential functions.”

*

Three hours and two Red Bulls later, it was four in the morning and Warren was awake. Wide awake.

“Warren, I think we’ve done it. You understand it all.” You smiled, looking at your boyfriend victoriously.

“We did it!” Warren yelled. He lunged across the bed and tackled you, knocking you over and engulfing you in a giant hug. His large wings and biceps squeezed you while he planted a giant kiss onto your forehead. You laughed and shoved him off.

“Okay, Warren. It’s after four in the morning and I am actually about to pass out.” You sighed as he got off of you. You stood and stripped from your jeans. Warren started shoving his books and binder off the bed. Once you had on some pajamas and Warren had his junk off your bed, you shut off the lights. You got under the blankets and snuggled up to Warren.

“Y/N?” He whispered. Sigh.

“What?”

“Have you ever gotten shampoo in your eye and wondered what your guide dogs name would be?” He questioned.

“No, Warren. Unfortunately not. Now go to sleep.” After that the room was silent for all of forty seconds.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Warren?” You might be single by the time the sun rose.

“How long does a person have to be dead for it to be considered archeology instead of grave robbing?”

“I don’t know! It’s nearly four thirty in the morning. Go to sleep.” All that could be heard was Warren breathing. Thirty seconds later.

“N/N?”

“What now?” You snap, turning over to face him.

“If a cyclops closes it eye is it a wink or a blink?”

“I signed up to help with calculus, Warren. Not your weird shower thoughts. Now, if you would kindly shut your beautiful face and go to sleep.” It was very quiet for a little while. All that could be heard was Warren’s deep breathing. Finally…

“Y-” Before anything could leave his mouth, you smashed your lips into his. Warren leaned into the kiss. You shoved your tongue into his mouth as he did the same. You both lay there and tonsils tossed for a good two minutes before you had to breathe.

“You wouldn’t shut up.” You giggled.

“I don’t know how to relax. I can’t stop talking, it’s so ba-“ Before he could continue you sat up and straddled him and started kissing his neck. He let out a pathetic noise that turned into a guttural moan when you started to suck the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“I promise you’ll stop talking.” You breathe into his ear. He growled deeply and pushed you onto your back.

*

Warren and you were sprawled over your bed sheets panting with sweat glistening your bodies.

“I guess Red Bull did give me wings.” You paused, waiting for your boyfriend to laugh at your hilariously bad pun, but his deep rumble of a chuckle never came.

“Oh come on, that was fucking funny you have to admit.” Once again, you didn’t get a response, so you sat up and looked over at him. He was out.

“Thank god.” You whispered quietly. You pulled the sheets up over your legs and gently covered Warren. You relaxed and let your eyes drift shut.

BEEP. BEEP.

“GOD DAM-“