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animemangasoul · 1 year

Text

Boots

Summery: Damian could read people so why could he not read Timothy?

Or, Tim is showing visable concern for him and Damian doesn't understand why or what to do about it.

Damian Wayne sat down wearily on the bench, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle upon his shoulders. The mission had been grueling, pushing his physical and mental limits to the edge. It hadn't helped that it had rained like the heavens themselves were weeping at his efforts. He could feel every muscle in his body ache as he leaned back, propping his boots against the edge of the bench across, trying to pull it off with all the strength of a mouse.

Beside him, Timothy Drake sat, phone pressed against his ear as he reported back to Richard; the older man taking every opportunity to call them whenever he had access to the Watchtowers connection line. It was honestly obnoxious and drove Damian's irritation through the roof half the time, but he also could quietly admit to himself it was good to hear from him every once in a while. He'd been gone for nearly a week after all.

Damian's usually rigid posture had slackened by now. He'd been the only one of the pair to be unfortunately caught in the downpour currently slapping against the filthy Gotham streets and it made his already weary frame feel even heavier. Eyes blinking slowly and muscles aching under his cold skin, he tried to keep himself awake.

Maybe that is why, what happened, happened. Maybe he should have been more careful, more composed, more awake. For as he pulled off his boots, he found himself tipping over. Tipping over sideways and accidentally leaning against one Timothy Drake. Fatigue blurred his senses for a moment, and he didn't immediately realize his mistake. Didn't realize what he'd done.

The moment it dawned on him however, his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe he'd done what he'd done. He couldn't…… but…

In the brief moment of quiet weakness, before he'd realized, Damian had felt a strange comfort. It had been nice. It was nice, to be able to lean against the other. To be able to sag against someone else and just feel something other than wariness. Their relationship had improved over time. It was no longer as hostile as it used to be. Damian having realized in the past three years that he did not need to replace Timothy in order to carve out a space of his own had slowly let his hostilities die and in turn Timothy had acknowledged his efforts by coming to the manor more. Yet, their relationship; or lack there off was fraught with tension, frost and unspoken agreement to avoid one another lest one of them say something regrettable. They'd kept it that way for nearly a year now.

And now hesitation coursed through Damian's veins. He did not move. His exhausted body somehow stubbornly savoring the brief respite that leaning on Timothy provided.

But as his tired mind began to clear, he grew conscious of what exactly he was doing. Timothy, thankfully engrossed in a conversation with Richard; still hadn't noticed him doing something this embarrassing. The man just kept humming in agreement to whatever Richard was insisting on. "I understand," he kept saying. "Of course I'll look after him. It's fine Dick, just focus on yourself."

Damian took the opportunity the distraction provided him to slowly push away but just as he'd lifted his head, an arm was thrown around him. A casual gesture done without missing a beat as Timothy laughed in response to something Richard said. Damian's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat.

What the…. What the---- Did Timothy just…..

It was a gesture he had witnessed countless time Timothy extend to Allen and the younger members of the Titans. A sign of affection and support. A casual way to let them know he was there for them, for Timothy was not very good with words. He was not good with gestures either Damian's inner thoughts mused. It was why little actions like this meant so much to the idiots at the Tower. It meant that Drake cared. It meant he was looking out for them.

Damian's thoughts raced. Why would his not brother do this, to him? It did not make any sense. Wait, did Timothy even know it was him leaning against his shoulder? Was this gesture meant for him or was he simply caught in the web of Tim's habitual comfort? Maybe he'd forgotten Damian was the only one present and then Damian had done something as pathetic as lean on him and the man's instinct for his friends had taken over and he'd done this…this thing.

The uncertainty gnawed at him.

And then a sudden feeling of self-consciousness surged through him, and Damian instinctively pulled away, his body tensing as if burned. He shot a glance at Timothy, hoping for some sign or acknowledgment, but the older remained engrossed in his conversation.

Damian frowned. Perhaps Timothy hadn't even noticed the brief interlude. Perhaps Damian's presence had been a mere backdrop, a coincidence.

What he refused to call disappointment surged through him nearly choking him. Damian rose from the bench, feeling angry with himself for showing momentary weakness and seeking solace in something that had not been intended for him as he walked away, the weight of his weariness heavy once more.

Damian's footsteps echoed in the distance as he retreated into the shadows, his mind spinning, spinning, spinning.

It should not have bothered him as much as it did. But it did bother him, very much so. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps his exhaustion was finally getting to him. Throwing his boots in disgust in the changing room; for how dare they trick him into something so pathetic, he promised himself he would feel better in the morning.

In the morning, he would not even remember this humiliating moment.

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Morning came with exhaustion and dreadful fever that wrecked his body until his mind no longer belonged to him but to the bed. The rain-soaked night had taken its toll it seemed, for today he found him stumbling wearily into the kitchen. Body feeling heavy and his movements sluggish from the remnants of a high-degree fever, every step was a struggle, as if the weight of the world pressed down on him.

Damian's bleary eyes briefly scanned his surroundings before landing on Timothy. Drake stood near the counter, engrossed in some task. Automatically, as if sensing his presence, the other man's gaze flickered up to meet Damian's, and a flicker of something unreadable crossed his features.

The youngest Wayne frowned deeply at him. His mood souring immediately at the sight of the other. But any intimidating air he was trying to put on quickly faded as he crossed the threshold, for Timothy's sharp eyes caught sight of his unsteady form.

"What are you doing here?" Damian demanded, his voice strained. He tried to regain control, to assert his usual air of authority. His attempt to deflect attention away from his vulnerability only fueling his frustration.

"I'm just cleaning up," Timothy replied calmly, his voice steady despite the lingering uncertainty. He took a small step back, allowing Damian his space, though his gaze remained fixed on him.

"Whatever," Damian scoffed, pushing past him. "I only wish to have a glass of water-" the words suddenly felt too thick in his mouth, his body too heavy and he tilted, down down down---

'Oh,' he thought. 'I am was falling. How embarrassing.' His eyes closed shut for the inevitable impact with the cold floor, but for some reason, it never came.

Without hesitation, Timothy had reached out, arms wrapping around his smaller frame and pulling him up. Then a hand came to gently brush against his forehead, gauging the heat of his fever.

"Careful," Timothy said softly, his touch featherlight as he held Damian close. But before the warmth of Timothy's hand could register, Damian flinched away, his instinctive reaction nearly unbalancing him.

"I'm fine," he snapped, his voice laced with both irritation and a hint of embarrassment. He pulled back, creating a physical distance between them. Confusion clouded his tired mind, the exhaustion adding a raw edge to his emotions. He did not understand what was going on. He didn't get it. What was Timothy doing. What was happening. Damn it all, he did not understand.

His not older brother's expression faltered, a flicker of something crossing his eyes, but he quickly masked it behind a calm facade. "Are you sure?" It came out questioning, little haltingly too as if Drake too did not quite know what to do in this very situation. It almost made him feel slightly better, almost.

Damian's thoughts churned, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He hated how the simple act of 'casual' concern from Timothy seemed to challenge their established dynamic. It was as if the lines between them had suddenly blurred, and he here he was, left struggling to make sense of it all.

Did Timothy no longer see him as a formidable rival, an adversary to be constantly on guard against? Had Richard influenced his behavior, prompting him to keep a closer watch over Damian in his absence? The questions plagued him, their answers elusive. He hated it. He hated it so much.

The room grew silent, tension hanging in the air like a heavy storm cloud. Damian's gaze flickered from Timothy's face to the surroundings, searching for a clue, for something familiar to anchor himself to. But everything seemed different, and he couldn't quite grasp the changes or understand their significance.

Something was different. Ever since Timothy had come back from that mission three month ago. Ever since he'd returned home he seemed more mature, seemed calmer, wouldn't let anything get under his skin. Damian had been severely injured during it so he'd been in a coma for five days. He hadn't been a witness to the change. He'd missed it. Missed whatever had transformed Timothy into the person he was now.

To him, Timothy felt too far away and too close at the same time. Something was different about him and Damian hated, hated how that something seemed to be a growth he hadn't been able to keep up with.

"You seem to be running a fever."

Damian's eyes narrowed, momentarily broken out of his thoughts. "I said I was fine," he hissed.

Raising both hands in the air, Timothy shrugged. "Okay," he said. "Whatever." He sounded so casual, so sure of himself. As if, as if----

Damian's blood boiled. "Well, get out of my way then," he snapped, his voice sharp and tinged with a touch of fury. He pushed past Timothy, his movements more forceful than necessary. His irritation only skyrocketing as the other did not even put up a fight. He filled his glass; hands shaking so badly he had to use them both to not spill it. His cheeks were tinted red and his eyes burned.

Then he stormed out of the kitchen, his thoughts churning like a whirlpool in his mind, anger and confusion colliding. He hated how Timothy's actions seemed to disrupt their existing dynamic. It was as if Timothy was rewriting the script without giving Damian a chance to catch up.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to react when the man who did not even acknowledge him half the time was suddenly being caring. Twice in two days. What was he supposed to do with that.

'Richard,' he thought, feeling angry, feeling scared. 'You did this. Make it stop.' For there was no doubt Richard's overwhelming worry for him had forced Timothy's hand to act as his substitute while he was away and when he came back----

Walking through the hallways, Damian's frustration continued to simmer; directed as much at himself as at the circumstances that had brought them to this point. The sense of isolation and alienation weighed heavily on him. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was missing some crucial piece of the puzzle.

Perching on the edge of his bed, Damian ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He had always prided himself on his ability to adapt quickly, but this time, the changes eluded him, slipping through his fingers like water.

Resting his head in his hands, Damian couldn't help the sudden helplessness that overwhelmed him. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with all of this. What was he supposed to do?

The storm outside rumbled on.

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

Damian Wayne's body burned with fever as he sat uncomfortably on the narrow bed in the school's dimly lit nurse's office. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, suffocating him further. He shifted restlessly, trying to distance himself from the nurse's well-meaning but intrusive presence. Each attempt to feel his forehead or check his vital signs only heightened Damian's discomfort.

Minutes turned into an eternity, and Damian's skepticism grew. Would Timothy even bother to come? He couldn't fathom why Timothy would abandon his responsibilities at Wayne Enterprises just to pick him up from school.

"I will be fine on my own," he'd said when the nurse had hummed low in disapproval and began to dial his not brother. "He is far too busy to pick me up. I shall make my way home on my own."

She had not believed him. And now here he was, likely to suffer the humiliation of having Timothy Drake not show up. It was not as if he believed Timothy was not a good enough person to show up if required but Damian wasn't dying. He was fine. It was only a fever and Timothy had far too much important work to do at Wayne Enterprise. In fact there was an annual board meeting today which his not brother had been stressing about all evening yesterday. Surely that took precedence over his wellbeing.

He would not come and Damian would not blame him for it. Timothy was no Richard. He owed him nothing.

Suddenly, the door flung open, and Timothy burst into the room, his breath labored and his hair in disarray. The sight of him, ruffled and unkempt, startled Damian. He hadn't expected him to arrive in record time, as if propelled by some unseen force. He hadn't expected him to arrive at all.

Damian's eyes widened, momentarily captivated by the urgency etched across the other's face.

But then, without a word, he hopped off the bed, his feet landing on the cold linoleum floor. No matter. Maybe the board meeting had concluded early. Maybe Timothy had been in the vicinity grabbing lunch when the nurse had called. Either way and opportunity was an opportunity and Damian would be damned if he did not take it. But before he could open his mouth and say something to Timothy, what he would say, he was unsure off, the nurse made another attempt to feel his forehead.

Her lips were pursed, her bright eyes as condescending as ever and her overbearing worry painted across the furrow of her brows. Damian growled, wanting to pull away but stopping himself because father had told him upsetting the staff here once more would disappoint him. Resigning himself to this unknown woman touching him again, his eyes widened in surprise when a hand grabbed the back of his uniform and pulled him subtly enough so his not brother could put his arm around his shoulders and drag him away from the nurse.

"Let's get you out of here," Timothy said, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos of Damian's thoughts.

It was a gesture done with ease, he noted as his not brother spoke to the baffled nurse as if he hadn't done anything unusual. His presence was…..comforting. Damian did not wish to admit it but having someone else there. Having Timothy there as a buffer, having his arm supporting him, it felt….

He flinched away, surprised and discomforted by his own thoughts. He looked up to gauge Timothy's reaction to his behaviour. To search for an explanation for the other's actions in his eyes at well.

But Timothy's gaze remained fixed on the nurse, a calm facade masking the underlying tension he clearly felt by how he'd held him close; fingers digging into his shoulder. Now his arm lay limp by his side even though his fingers still gently gripped the sleeve of Damian's uniform. Something almost resembling guilt churned through Damian's gut and he glared at the white floor in retaliation For why should he feel something like this at all? He did not owe Drake anything. He owed him nothing.

But…….It seemed….it looked like Timothy… maybe he had reacted instinctively to protect him. To protect him from the nurse's well-meaning but intrusive actions? Damian was not stupid. He'd been trained by assassins. His father was the greatest detective in the world and he'd been raised by Nightwing himself. He knew he could read people. Read actions and Timothy's actions could not speak off anything other than concern.

As his thoughts ran wild, the nurse's presence became a mere backdrop. His attention now solely centered on Timothy, trying and failing to make sense of the situation. Was it concern for his well-being alone that drove Timothy's actions, or was there something more? Had he rushed over for his sake or was this unexpected display of care Richard's influence, a silent agreement between the brothers to watch over him in Richard's absence?

Damn it, damn it all. He just didn't get it. He didn't freaking get it.

Tsking, he squared his shoulders. Then mustered up the strength; which surprisingly required more effort than he could imagine to fully pull away from Timothy's hold. He couldn't afford to rely on others, especially when they might not reciprocate the sentiment like Richard and Jon.

With that resolution in mind and without a word, Damian turned away, his steps purposeful as he walked towards the door. The conflicting emotions burning him to his very core. Fists clenched at his side, head aching with fever that nearly blinded him, he silently chastised himself for seeking solace in a gesture that likely held no significance to Timothy what so ever.

'Do not forget,' he told himself, closing his eyes briefly. 'He does not care for you and your fever is making you assume you care for what he thinks of you. Do not forget.'

But as Damian reached the threshold, he couldn't help but steal a final glance back at Timothy, whose attention was still fixated on the nurse. A flicker of vulnerability passed across his not brother's face, almost imperceptible and yeah, Damian truly was too far gone with this insufferable sickness if he was now seeing such nonexistent nonsense.

Still, for a brief laughable moment, he wondered if there was more to their evolving dynamic than he had initially perceived. But the thought was fleeting, as he reminded himself of the walls Drake had rightfully built around himself when it came to Damian. 'He is doing it for Richard,' he told himself. 'It is for Richard and father. He is good like that.'

'Unlike me' remained loud yet unsaid.

With that thought etched into his features, Damian turned away and exited the nurse's office. He did not look back a second time.

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

Damian's eyes flickered open, the hazy remnants of sleep clinging to his senses. The muted glow of the television bathed the living room in a soft, comforting light. His head throbbed, his body heavy with fatigue. He had fallen asleep in front of the TV, succumbing to the clutches of his fever and exhaustion.

As Damian tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over him, causing him to wince. The room spun, disorienting him for a moment. Blinking away vague memories of a dream fading, he scanned his surroundings, his gaze landing on the clock on the wall. Time had slipped away unnoticed, hours blending into each other in the depths of his fever-induced slumber.

Pennyworth was away handling family matters so the care of Damian had unfortunately falling once again on Timothy's shoulders after they'd returned to the manor. The older had silently gone to their medicine cabinet, made him some soup, brought him a glass of water and an accompanying jug just in case and had then left him to his own devices. He hadn't fussed like Richard or scolded him like Pennyworth. He hadn't looked at him in disappointment like father. He had just been. Taking the step by step process in how to care for someone without any of the emotions attached. Damian did not know whether he should feel relieved or hate him for it. And then he'd almost snorted at the thought for that had been his consistent feeling towards Drake these past two days.

After tending to him, Timothy had went back to work. He had not stayed. Damian had not wished for him to do so. He had not. In fact, he'd snapped at the other for even hesitating to go and had ordered him away.

He had not needed him. He did not need anyone. He could very well take care of himself. So, standing up he wobbled his way to the kitchen, heated up the rest of the soup and found his way back to his seat. He could barely force himself to eat three mouthfuls before he had to give it up.

Sighing warily, he curled back under the heavy blanket Timothy had draped over him; he'd only noticed after the other had left that it belonged to Timothy. His not brother having gone through several bouts off fever addled sicknesses due to his lack of spleen. It was a good blanket he thought absentmindedly. It was warm but not too warm and it almost felt like a hug from Richard.

Fatigue slowly began weighed him down, and Damian succumbed to sleep once more, his eyelids fluttering shut as his body sought solace in slumber. Time slipped away, the world a distant blur, until a gentle touch roused him from his fevered dreams.

The scent of Timothy's cologne wafted through the air, heavy and familiar. Timothy did not like to wear cologne he vaguely recalled. Only doing it for business meetings. "To be taken seriously," Richard had once said to him, smiling fondly at Timothy who'd been busy fixing his tie and running his fingers through his bangs, stress-lines easing into something soft when his eyes met Richard's and the older sent him a teasing kiss through the air. "He thinks wearing that cologne makes him look more grown up." Richard had sounded sad then. Damian remembered scoffing and turning back to his dinner suddenly not feeling hungry.

Timothy had only been eighteen back then. Now he was twenty-one. He likely did not need it anymore having proven himself ten times over but now it seemed to be a habit. A habit that was strangely comforting to Damian's sleep addled mind.

He stirred, his bleary eyes opening ever so, as he attempted to focus on the figure standing beside him. He couldn't quite keep up with what was going on, but eventually he found himself being lifted into strong arms. Timothy let out a soft grunt, but he remained steady, stable. An unwavering presence. "There," his not brother muttered to himself too soft yet reassuring. "Let's get you to bed you little gremlin."

Damian would have snapped back in offense if his body had been willing to cooperate with him. Instead his eyes fell fully shut and he let the movement of Timothy lull him into comfort.

His not brother carried him through the dimly lit hallways, his rhythmic footsteps echoing through his mind and making him breathe easier. His head nestled against Timothy's shoulder, finding comfort in the coldness of his body.

The journey was swift and eventually Damian was deposited gently onto his bed, the covers drawn up to his chin. A soft sigh escaped him as his body sank into the familiar mattress.

A sudden muffled meow sounded, and Damian's mind briefly registered where his feline companion had been placed on his bed, as the cat curled up with a satisfied little noise. Timothy had picked up Alfred and put him there, as if knowing that even in his sleep, Damian found comfort in Alfred's presence.

The weight of the action, of the entire thing settled upon Damian's chest when Timothy exited his room; footsteps quiet, a soft goodnight his parting words.

A frustrated tear escaped his eye, tracing a path down his cheek and dampening his pillow. He couldn't quite understand why this simple act of care made him so so sad. It hurt. It hurt so much and he didn't know why it made him….. why it made him wish for something he couldn't fully grasp.

But as Damian's heavy eyelids drooped shut once more, sleep's embrace pulling him into its depths, a sliver of hope flickered within him. Maybe it was okay for them to change. Maybe if Timothy was capable of moving forward, of gentle kindness, maybe he could try his hand at it too.

Yeah, maybe.

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The sun began its descent, casting long shadows that stretched across the meticulously manicured lawn of Wayne Manor. Timothy and Damian found themselves sitting side by side on the porch steps, their silhouettes melding into the fading light.

It had been four days since Damian had gotten sick and now he had finally recovered. Cleared for duty, he meticulously cleaned his boots, his fingers tracing the familiar grooves, each swipe of the cloth against the leather seeming to magnify the weight of his thoughts. Now that he was finally cleared for missions again, his body mending from the fever that had held him captive, his thoughts refused to set him free.

They were sitting out here weighting for Richard to land back on earth. He'd be here in the next three hours and while that held its own sense of excitement, try as he might, Damian could not let go of his thought on Timothy.

He glanced at his not brother, the other engrossed in a book he had chosen on a whim not paying attention to anything other than the words on the page. Damian's fears grew stronger.

He couldn't help but think and think and think. What if Timothy's caring nature had only been a temporary respite, a byproduct of his obligation to Richard? Would their newfound connection dissolve like a wisp of smoke, leaving Damian to navigate their old dynamic of avoiding one another once more? Should he talk to him about it? Timothy had done so much for him these past couple of days. He hadn't complained, hadn't snapped at him. He'd only worried. For yes, it was worry even if that worry might not have been for his sake alone.

Damian hated this so much. The uncertainty gnawed at his core, the need to know threatening to resurface.

A surge of urgency suddenly propelled him to do something drastic. He had to know. He couldn't not know if Timothy's actions were merely a facade or a bridge meant for him to cross. It was a daring move, a test of the delicate balance they had found. Slowly, almost painfully so, he allowed his body to lean against Timothy's shoulder, his breath catching in his throat. Waiting, heart pounding in his chest, for Timothy's response.

The weight of Damian against him did not seem to go unnoticed by Timothy this time. A subtle shift in his posture betraying his surprise. It made Damian almost want to fling himself away and pretend as if he hadn't done it, almost. Instead he screwed his eyes shut and remained. 'Be stubborn,' he commended himself. 'Do not waver from your goal for it is the cowards way out.'

He wanted to be a coward so bad.

But he needn't have been for instead of pulling away or questioning the gesture, Timothy responded casually once more. Without looking away from his book, with a fluid motion, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders and drew him closer.

Damian's eyes flew open, widening to sizes he didn't know was humanly possible as sudden warmth flooded his senses. He clutched his dirty boot tightly between his shaking fingers and let himself fall even further against Timothy. He couldn't quite believe what he'd accomplished.

He wasn't sick anymore. Timothy was aware of this. He did not need to care for him anymore. After all, Damian had been cleared for missions. Not only that, he'd been cleared for solo missions so this, this gesture it couldn't possibly be for Richard, could it?

He blinked furiously against the sudden wetness in his eyes. The doubts and insecurities that had consumed him momentarily fading away. Timothy's careless embrace offered hope, solace for years of fraught relationship between them. And Damian, Damian couldn't quite believe it. He exhaled softly, a fragile little smile curving his lips.

"Do you mind reading aloud?" he asked, his voice quivering slightly, but not cracking, not breaking. For he could ask for this, he could.

Timothy squeezed his shoulder, placing the book on his lap so he could turn the page. "Sure," he said, his tone even. "Want me to start from the beginning?"

Damian shook his head the best he could. "Sometimes stories are interesting when you start from the middle," he said.

His brother huffed a little laughter and Damian allowed himself to bask in it. For it was meant for him, and this time he was sure of it.

As Timothy's voice reverberated through the air, Damian let his boot drop next to the other, he'll clean them tomorrow.

#damian wayne #tim drake #batfamily fanfic #batfamily #fanfic #damian wayne fanfic #tim drake fanfic #batfamily one shot

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fandomfluffandfuck · 3 months

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I just started the second season of Galavant, (imagine if Monty Python and the Holy Grail was fused with The Greatest Showman) and this song was in the first episode. I think you'll appreciate it. I sure did. Also, I can't help but imagine Bucky in the Queen's place and Steve in Galavant's (the guy who the song is sung too.) -🐍 https://youtu.be/sB6Wu-dwENM?si=VzvteaZW9BxtnCXn

[Link] to a YouTube video showing Kylie Minogue's "Off With His Shirt"

I love being someone who doesn't really watch TV or movies and doesn't have any streaming service subscriptions and in a movie-based fandom because then it creates situations like this where I have no goddamn idea what's happening, lmao. It genuinely is entertaining for me. You just mentioned four movies/shows and I haven't seen a single fucking one of 'em 💀💀

I live under a rock, I know

Anyway--

You trespassed upon my kingdom Now you are in my sway Which basic'ly means as the Queen of all Queens I'm going to make you pay Will we be throwing him in the dungeon? Or tossing him to the Bear? Well, one thing for sure We'll settle the score And trust me it's more than fair Off with his shirt Yeah Strip him down Don't be shy, boys go to town I'll bet that chest is heaven blessed So firm and cut Off with his top Yeah Let it fly Check that six pack It's to die Tell every Lance and Bruce and Curt Off with his shirt Oh this is so fun. I want to fly like her, too. Someone pick me up. Pick me up too. Ooo, so now that you're in my power We'll put you behind these bars There you will stay taking orders all day 'Till Mars is aligned with Mars For our pleasure, we'll keep you waiting We'll adjust how long you serve But baby, you bet You're gonna get The punishment we deserve Off with his shirt Yeah That's the deal You're a beef-cake happy meal Go on you guys Just feast your eyes Until they hurt Off with his shirt Yeah 'Till the dawn Dig that lush pectoral lawn Drink in those lats and traps and delts And after that who knows what else? So save some room boys for dessert Oh, off with his shirt

Oh.

(Throwing him to the bear and then showing just a fucking guy got me, lol)

It's the way she pushes him around for me... the slap... the heel in the middle of his chest... it's giving ✨️submissive✨️

So, fuck yeah, I would love to see a stucky version of that 😏 keep Steve not as a prisoner but as a piece of eye candy. I think he lives not in the dungeon but on a kneeling cushion next to Bucky's thrown, that, or, in Bucky's private chamber probably still on his knees.

Thanks for sharing!

#asks #🐍 anon #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #au

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boxwinebaddie · 8 months

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do u think we can hear a little bit of the kyle cant say i love u ask?

ugh, yes </3

so...fair warning, idk what this is. also...

why is it written in present tense? idk. anyways!

i started ~writing~ something ( bad ) that i was going to maybe slap to the end of the ask, which is not proofread or finished, but basically context is that it's the #ravesey divorce fight, the climax of it...

...where stan starts packing a bag and for one of the first times in his pleated, completed, type-a, show no mercy, no nonsense, new jersey slaughterhouse life, kyle broflovski...is paralyzed with fear.

because kyle who always has his shit together is completely losing it.

everything.

his everything.

his stan.

again.

and he's ripped at the seams, dissolving right before our very eyes: his perfect auburn tresses which usually cascade and glide effortlessly down his lithe shoulders, are fucked up, frizzy and falling all over his face which is pale, creased and gaunt...

— like he's seen a ghost.

his pupils are blown to high heaven and shot to all hell. dilated like two green distress signals. once fierce now frightened, floundering.

his special stan glasses are crooked and fogging up from how hard and uneven his breathing is with the chain nearly suffocating him from how rough and imprecise his startled, frenzied movements are.

he's shaking his head in horror, in shock, in grief, in utter disbelief. really, his whole fucking body is shaking like an addict going through withdrawals, but this is a million times worse than watching someone flush a pack of cigarettes down the toilet. it stings. it burns. it lingers.

in a way that stan won't.

but kyle needs him to, needs him to stay, needs him close, needs him forever, so he's talking fast, way, way, Way too fast, like if he can say enough other words, i love you will seem far less grand and lustrous...

but they're not.

whilist time passes achingly slow. and kyle's given hundreds of speeches, debates and lectures, but words fail him, his lips quiver, his mouth opens and closes helplessly and that booming voice is barely a whisper when he finally musters up the dis-courage to mumur;

"...b-baby? baby! where—where are you going?! w-where are YO—“

kyle darts forward and reaches for his boyfriend before he turns into a memory again, not sure where he was aiming. to please, to squeeze, to stroke his tear-slicked cheek, maybe? to dust the tips of the his trembling, unworthy fingers cross that little spot of sun just beneath his right eye. the gentle curve of his jaw, far less violent than his, or—or even just on the side of his arm where love is written in spanish. amor. like tracing the letters onto his skin would be good enough.

but it never was.

he never was.

and as proof of his inadequacy, stan sails to the left and ducks right under kyle's arm, which collides with the quilted down of their couch.

…their couch.

how long would their couch be their couch? kyle thought that their couch would always be their couch! kyle thought that—

"out."

it was a single syllable, uttered in the same bratty voice harnessed by misbehaved teenage boys everywhere, but it was different coming from stan, whose mouth was not made to start fights or draw blood. it was a horrible, harsh sound, wrought with an undercurrent of sadness.

it was then that the realization dawns on him.

stan wasn't angry with him.

stan was disappointed in him.

which was far, far worse.

kyle wants to look strong, look stable, look sturdy, so stan would look at him — god, he would do anything for stan to just look at him! and stop packing that stupid fucking bag, that dumb black jansport backpack they'd bought back to school shopping because...his stan was going back to school. and kyle was so...so proud of him.

but gerald never was, gerald was loud, so kyle was loud, so when he should have congratulated stan for doing something difficult, he criticized him for not doing something easy! like the dishes and told stan he'd stitched his name into the bag...just in case he lost it.

funny how things happen.

…not funny.

not funny at all, actually!

so then…why was he laughing?

why the Fuck was he laug—

"out? Out? O-OUTSIDE?! stan, you—ya can't be serious?! you're in a little t-shirt and—and shorts, you'll freeze to death! you'll—“

kyle clings to the thin fabric of stan's tee-shirt, admiring the myriad of sauce stains and makeup marks that, on a normal night, kyle might be livid about, but tonight...they're lovely; they're so, so lovely.

just like the boy who made them.

the boy kyle loves.

not rockstar raven of crimson dawn.

but sweet, sensitive stanley marsh.

his stan.

his...

kyle's eyes fall absentmindedly to the tattered hem of stan's shorts, where amidst a jagged, serrated sea of angry self mutilizations past, was a new beginning...the beginning of a word, a sound, a letter...a

a k...for kyle.

stan had gotten it done last anti-valentine's day, as a gift, for him, but mostly...for himself. because stan cruelly hated himself, every part of his body, but he hated that part the most. his inner thighs, the valley that stretched between them...so he'd gotten kyle's name tattooed down there, so that when he was off on tour and missed his boyfriend terribly...he was with him.

always.

so that on his very worst days, when he felt the worst about himself, he could still see his super best friend. a precious skin-deep reminder that when the dysphoria hit and he felt like shit, craved a stiff drink and the razor blade winked…that when he felt falsely ugly...

...someone thought he was truly beautiful.

and he was.

he was really...and truly beautiful.

everyday. every second. even now. especially now. and god, what kyle wouldn't do to place his lips in that spot right there, anywhere, everywhere! because kyle couldn't say i love you and they weren't married, no, not in the traditional sense, but even so, kyle went to temple, a place of sacred worship & recited his vows every night.

every stroke, every sigh, every stretch of blessed skin.

i love you.

i love—

"because you're so Worried about me, right, kyle?"

stan sneers, holding his name like a knife between teeth.

"—because you 'LOVE' me, right?"

he spit and twist it.

it was twisted. and kyle feels those spiteful syllables split him open like shrapnel. he gasps like stan had shot him, grasping the hem of his shirt so hard that it hurt, like a little kid clinging to his mother's skirt.

so scared she would leave.

so scared she would go, begging

don't go.

please don't go.

please, please, please don't g—

"NO! i—i do! stan, i do!”

kyle tries to argue but nearly breaks his neck nodding, with his shrill voice weak and watery and wanting.

“baby—BABY! i do, i DO! i really do! i—I LO—“

but the words wouldn't come.

kyle was banging on the wall, iron clad and impenetrable, he fought and shouted, kicked and screamed and still...nothing would come.

he couldn't say it. he couldn't FUCKING say it!

why...why?

Why?

WHY?!

he had never wanted to cry before but he could feel it in the back of his throat. he wants to come out. the little boy he'd trapped back there. but he couldn't be that big again, that small...that pathetic. so he bites down HARD. harder than he'd even bitten before and thrashes his cheek with his teeth, the taste of blood filling his mouth.

and for a moment...he feels dizzy...

because the blood tastes like metal.

like stan.

just like sta—

"save it, mi sabelotodo."

stan sniffs and lifts his head up slowly. his damp bangs are stuck to his forehead, the tips just barely kissed with bleach, mere whispers of the boy they wanted him, those beautiful dark roots growing with him into the man he wanted to be. whose wonderful face was flushed with frustration, whose kind, bright blue eyes were...

god, all kyle had wanted was for stan to look at him. but it gores him; it guts him. it carves him; it cuts him.

it was wrong. it was all wrong!

he took it back. he took it all back!

take me back, baby.

he wants to plead, while his lip shakes and bleeds.

stanley, PLEASE take me ba—

then, in one foul swoop, the boy with the bag shrugs his shoulders and kyle's hand crumples back down onto the couch. broken. lifeless.

"—save it for someone you ACTUALLY love."

#anyways hope i die #actually tho bc this was so poorly written oh my god #i am in pain i am sorry i wanted this to be not bad #i'll proof it and fix it later smh #BUT I WANTED YALL TO HAVE IT #ANYWAYS I HATE MY LIFE SO BAD I HATE IT HERE #also stans spicy lil inner thigh kyle tattoo is important to me #hot boy self care behavior #WHICH EVEN IF IT WASNT #THATS OKAY BC KYLE TAKES REALLY GOOD CARE OF HIM AND LOVES HIM SO MUCH EVEN THO HE CANT SAY IT #MAAAAAAAAN #WERE IN HELL #ANYWAYS #jerseys perspective makes me wanna kword myself so bad like hes so desperate and loving and sad and i LOVE HIM #BABY ITS GONNA BE OKAY :((((#mi sabelotodo WAS VIIIIIIIIOLENT #LIKE OH MY GOOOOOOOD #i fixed it so the tenses are right now #im so bad at that idk why i did present tense im insane sorry #we know this we sometimes love this #I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS I LOVE ANGST #I LOVE WRITING AAA IM SMILING IM SO HAPPY #LIKE IM SAD BUT IM HAPPY IM WRITING EEEE

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warabidakihime · 3 years

Text

Invisible Strings Chapter 3

Characters: Uzui Tengen x Reader | Modern AU Synopsis: Sequel of Parallel Lines Content Warnings: profanity, smut, sleep paralysis, eventual violence, blo0d, slight manga spoilers (tho i strayed away from the original plot but yeh), can be a bit psychologically triggering for some so proceed cautiously.

Previous Chapter: Prologue Next Chapter: Chapter 2 -

The night sky still reigned over Tokyo, and with the moon as the focal point and stars as accents, the city had never looked so beautiful.

It's unmistakably the dawn of a new age. People from the past would be unable to comprehend the new era.

People can now sleep on their beds without fear of danger wrapping around their necks like a snake poised to attack.

Everyone has become blithely complacent.

The simple truth is that no one can ever wipe away darkness.

It will always coexist with light, and it will only be a matter of time before one of them triumphs over the other.

A malignant aura hovered over the city without disturbing the heavens under tonight's exceptionally gloomy sky.

In her sleep, Y/N grumbled as she felt a dull discomfort in her chest.

Her heart seemed to be tightening in an unusual way.

Her eyelids fluttered open for a few seconds before closing again, as the melatonin she had taken earlier took full effect.

She slept comfortably in a fetal position, her run-in with Tengen long forgotten.

At least for the time being.

"Perhaps I do owe you my thanks after all."

You were getting ready for work, but for obvious reasons, you were moving considerably slower than usual. You really didn’t want to go in today.

After what occurred the other night, you were terrified to face Tengen.

Every time you remembered your idiocy, you’d whine and slap yourself.

What could be more humiliating than sending a meme to your boss late at night?

Oh, how I wish I could just disappear.

I'm so fucking dumb!

But, as much as you’d like to, you couldn’t.

You were in the midst of preparing for the Hashira Annual Gala.

Held every August to mark the company’s anniversary, it was an event that attracted many notable people.

Tengen hadn’t responded to you yet, and you were wondering if you’d offended him.

Who were you to act so friendly with him in the first place?

Oh, I hate this!

You looked at yourself in the vanity mirror one more time before deciding to go out.

Yushiro would most likely be waiting for you in the parking lot. The two of you had decided to commute together after discovering you were neighbors with the same schedule.

Please don’t humiliate yourself any further, Y/N.

Behave!

The journey to work was rather pleasant.

While having a relatively short temper, Yushiro was an excellent driver. He'd curse at drivers on the road here and there, but he'd never express his rage through his driving.

After arriving at the office building, Yushiro went inside since you mentioned you needed to get something from the convenience store before checking in.

You still have 20 minutes of grace time.

It's also nice to have a variety of restaurants and convenience stores within your corporate building.

It saves you time and money.

You didn't have time to make a lunchbox for yourself today since you overslept, so you're currently purchasing a bento box.

"Hello, Y/N!"

You turned to face the cheerful voice that had beckoned to you.

"Oh, Zenitsu-senpai, good morning," you said as you approached the cashier to pay for your item.

"Drop the senpai; Zenitsu’s okay, or you can call me drop-dead gorgeous," he added, wriggling his brows.

"I guess I'll stick with Zenitsu-kun," you said, laughing at his joke.

"If the lovely lady insists, now, please excuse me; I'll be in the chips aisle," Zenitsu shrugged.

"Have fun," you said, laughing.

The blonde then vanished down one of the aisles while you waited for the cashier to hand you your change.

Tengen entered the store while you were waiting, and he immediately smiled when he saw you.

"Hello, Y/N."

When you heard your boss's voice, you unintentionally let out a yelp.

Tengen was approaching you when you abruptly bowed and walked away after receiving your change, leaving Tengen stunned.

"Oh, where is Y/N? Did she leave already? I thought we could go up together."

The tall guy shrugged his shoulders, a visible frown on his face.

He was clearly bothered by the way you fled from the store.

Is something going on?

Did he do something?

Tengen's frown ultimately turned into a cute pout.

"Are you going to be buying anything? I already paid for mine; I'll wait for you if you like," Zenitsu prodded.

"No, I wasn't planning to buy anything; I simply came in here since I spotted you and y/n and thought I should say hello; however, when I greeted her, she fled away from here."

"What?" Zenitsu said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you do anything to upset her? You're good at it, so I'm not shocked if that's the case."

"Fuck you."

"Language!"

Maybe you would want to remain alone for the time being.

Maybe you were still in a bad mood from yesterday.

She's not upset with me, is she?

I hope not.

"Come on, we have an early board meeting; you can talk to Y/N later at lunch if you're so concerned by what she did just now." Zenitsu called his boss's attention to their weekly board meeting.

"You're right."

Perhaps he can come up to you later at lunch to clear the air.

Meanwhile, you're sitting at your desk, your face pressed against the gleaming table, mentally kicking the snot out of yourself.

Why the hell did you flee like that?!

At work, too!

I'm so fucking stupid.

Your gaze was drawn to Tengen's unoccupied desk as you turned your head.

He is now in attendance at the board of directors' weekly meeting.

Zenitsu and Mitsuri accompanied him, but you, Nezuko, and Yushiro remained in your department to complete some work.

Your thoughts soon wandered to your boss, a.k.a., your crush, grumbling as you were reminded of your idiotic mistake from last Friday.

He didn't appear upset with me, though. If anything, he seemed pleased to see me.

Oh, why did I walk out like that?

I owe him an apology.

That's terribly impolite of me, since he's always been so nice to me.

As you moved away from Tengen's post, you let out another sigh.

I can't keep diddling around like this; I need to get back to work.

Just as you were about to dive back into work, you heard the door to the boardroom open. Tengen, Zenitsu, and Mitsuri stepped out, discussing the meeting's outcomes. You couldn't help but glance up, your heart racing when Tengen's eyes briefly met yours, and before he could approach you for a quick chat, you feigned ignorance and pretended that you weren't actually aware that you made eye contact with him, and you proceeded to go back to your desk to finish the remainder of your tasks this morning.

Taking a deep breath, you knew you couldn't avoid him forever. Maybe during lunch, you'd find the right moment to apologize for your abrupt departure earlier.

For now, you pushed those thoughts aside and returned to your tasks, determined to keep your focus on work.

"Hiya, Y/N."

Tengen approached you at your table as you were finishing up your preparations for lunch.

You winced slightly before turning to face him and said, "Yes, sir?"

"Would you want to eat lunch together?" he said, showing you his bento box.

Oh.

Blush rose to your cheeks, surprised by the sudden invitation.

You couldn't help but smile and say, "Sure."

The nervousness he was feeling dissipated a little when he heard you answer "yes."

"Really?"

"Um, yeah, let me just finish cleaning up, and then we'll head to the pantry area."

"Actually, I have another location in mind where we can have lunch; it's much more tranquil there, but if you prefer dining in the pantry area, that's alright with me as well."

You looked him in the eyes for the first time today.

"Anywhere is great, sir; where should we go?"

"Follow me," Tengen said with a smile.

He led you to the elevator, and you both rode up to the rooftop. As the doors opened, you were greeted by a serene garden space, complete with benches and a small fountain. The city skyline provided a stunning backdrop.

"Wow, this is beautiful," you remarked, genuinely impressed.

Tengen smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. "I like coming up here when I need a break from everything. It's peaceful."

You both settled onto a bench, and as you started to unpack your lunches, you took a deep breath and decided to address the elephant in the room.

"How are you, Y/N? Do you feel better?" Tengen asked while he took a spoonful of his lunch.

"Huh?"

"You were a little fidgety this morning, and I was worried."

Oh.

"Ah, that..." you winced noticeably, regretting that you had caused him concern. "It's nothing at all, Uzui-sa—"

"Tengen."

"Tengen, I want to apologize for what I did last Friday." You winced again, covering it with an uneasy chuckle.

"What do you mean?" Tengen asked.

"...the meme."

It took him a moment to recall what you were talking about, and when he did, his laughter echoed across the once peaceful rooftop.

"Ah! That? Don't worry, I wasn't upset at all; in fact, I enjoyed it so much that I saved it on my phone. That was really clever of you, Y/N."

"You're not mad?" you asked, a little puzzled.

"Certainly not."

Tengen laughed heartily before adding, "If anything, your timing was great. I needed a little something to cheer me up that night. I didn't realize my divorce would affect me the way it did, considering I saw it coming."

Wait, what?

"Divorce? You're married?"

"Was. I was married for four years until we both chose to split."

Tengen was a married man.

To be honest, you were a little disappointed that the man you had a crush on was already committed to someone else, despite the fact that he was officially single again.

At this moment, the only thing you could say was, "I see..."

"Yeah, well, that chapter of my life has ended, and I'm ready to begin the next," he murmured, partly to himself but loud enough for you to hear.

He then gazed at you with such lovely eyes that you felt the butterflies all over again.

"Then I wish you happiness," you stated sincerely.

"How about you? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, I've been in relationships in the past, but right now I'm single," you said, shaking your head.

"What's your ideal type, then?" Tengen asked as he took another bite of his meal.

You.

That thought and his question caused you to flush profusely. You cleared your throat as you pondered a response.

"Well, I'd prefer someone who feels like home—a best friend and a lover in one soul," you said, feeling your cheeks heat up as you spoke.

You were so preoccupied with your shyness that you didn't see how tenderly he smiled at you.

"That's something I'd desire for myself as well."

"I'm sure you'll find her soon," you said as you smiled at him.

I think I already did.

As you both ate, the rest of your conversations flowed easily, and you found yourself relaxing more in his company. Tengen shared stories about his experiences and even gave you some advice about navigating the corporate world. In return, you told him about your goals and aspirations, feeling more connected with him than ever before.

By the time lunch was over, you felt a weight lifted from your shoulders. Tengen's warmth and understanding had put you at ease, and you were grateful for the opportunity to know him better.

"Thank you for this, sir. It was really nice," you said as you both stood up to leave.

With a nod and a smile, you both headed back to the office, feeling a renewed sense of camaraderie and respect for one another.

The rest of the day flew by.

It was Monday, and usually everyone expected you to be in a bad mood since Mondays were generally disliked, but not today.

It had been a while since you felt this good. Lunch with Tengen had brightened your mood, making the workday seem less daunting.

You managed to get through your tasks with ease.

The same could be said about Tengen, who was practically glowing today.

So much so that Zenitsu found it annoying.

Tengen didn't seem like someone who went through a divorce last week.

It still stung a little, but Tengen felt hopeful for the first time in a while.

He was sitting at his desk, typing a report for HR. His bright pink eyes shifted to you as you finished tidying your desk and were getting ready to leave for the day.

The longer he looked at you, the brighter his smile became.

"Take a photo. It'll last longer," Sanemi, the IT department's chief, deadpanned as he looked at his colleague.

He also glanced briefly at you before turning back to Tengen. "Got a crush on the newbie?"

Tengen's cheeks flushed slightly as he finally turned away from you and stared at Sanemi. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to let you know about next week's Open House; a few Hana Enterprise executives will be there as well, so Kagaya-san asked you to represent Hashira Corp."

"Why me?"

"You're basically the company's face, bro."

"Can't Rengoku-san do it instead?" complained Tengen.

"Rengoku-san will be heading overseas for another business project," Sanemi said, scratching his head.

"Fine," Tengen eventually said.

"Nice. I'll let Giyuu know; don't worry, he'll be right there with you. He'll be the one to present to the audience, and you'll be in charge of mingling with the visitors."

"Yeah, sure."

"All right, I'd best start going because Kanae is probably waiting for me."

Tengen smiled and bid his friend farewell.

Great. More work.

Not wanting to ruin his perfect day, he shook his head and concentrated on his report so he could go home and relax.

He noticed you lingering near the exit as he made his way to his car.

"Y/N? Why are you still here?" he asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

"It's pouring hard outside, and I forgot my umbrella at home," you admitted sheepishly.

"Do you want me to escort you home? I'm heading that way too," Tengen offered, gesturing towards his car.

Normally, you'd politely decline, but the thought of getting home quickly was appealing, so you nodded eagerly. "Please."

"No problem," he replied with a warm smile. "Come on, let's get you home so you can relax."

"Thank you."

Together, you made your way to his car. Tengen, true to form, held the door open for you before taking the driver's seat.

"So, where's home for you, Y/N?" he inquired as he started the car, allowing it to warm up before setting off into the downpour.

"In Roppongi Hills, in [Name of Condominium Tower]," you replied, adjusting your seatbelt.

"Oh, that's close to my building. Just sit back and relax while I drive," Tengen said with a nod.

"Thanks," you murmured, feeling the gentle lull of the rain against the car's roof.

"Did you grow up in Tokyo?" Tengen continued the conversation, one hand on the wheel and the other propping up his chin.

"Yeah, born and raised here, but we moved to the countryside for a while. Now I'm back," you explained.

"Your family, are they doing well?" Tengen asked, his tone soft with genuine concern.

"I think so, but it's been a while since we've talked," you admitted, a hint of bitterness in your chuckle.

"Why's that?" Tengen inquired gently.

"Oh, you know... boundaries," you replied, the bitterness seeping through despite your attempt to keep it light.

"As long as you're happy, Y/N," he remarked softly.

"Yeah."

In the car, the soothing rhythm of the rain and the quiet hum of the radio began to lull you into a sense of relaxation. Leaning back in your seat, you felt the weariness of the day wash over you, and before you knew it, sleep had claimed you.

"Y/N! Wake up! Hey!" Tengen's urgent voice pierced through the haze of your nightmare.

You were caught in the grip of a terrible dream, your body twisting and turning as if trying to escape. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

Desperate to rouse you from your slumber, Tengen gently cupped your face and pinched your cheeks. "Y/N! Please, wake up."

Suddenly, you jolted upright, your voice echoing with a name that sent a chill down Tengen's spine.

"Muzan-sama!"

#warabidakihime #kny #kny fic #kny fluff #kny smut #kny angst #demon slayer #kny tengen #kny sanemi #inosuke hashibira #uzui tengen #lord tengen #tengen x reader #tengen x you #uzui tengen x y/n #tengen fluff #tengen smut #tengen angst #muzan jackson

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derangedrhythms · 3 years

Note

May I please ask, do you have any quotes or lines that you know of, based on meeting a loved one under the stars, perhaps even in secret? Or stargazing, maybe? Thank you for reading :D

I couldn't recall anything specifically about meeting a loved one under the stars, but I've included some more romantic excerpts which use star metaphors and imagery. I know this wasn't exactly what you were looking for, but I hope that you enjoy them nevertheless. I also did a compilation on night and stars here.

"But the sight of the stars always makes me dream..."

⁠— Vincent van Gogh

"That doesn’t stop me having a tremendous need for, shall I say the word — for religion — so I go outside at night to paint the stars..."

⁠— Vincent van Gogh

"She stood there: she listened. She heard the names of the stars."

⁠— Virginia Woolf, from 'Mrs Dalloway'

"For me the star-filled sky had always been the most heart-rending, the most disquieting, of sights."

— Nikos Kazantzakis, from ‘Report to Greco’, tr. P. A. Bien

"Look at the stars! look, look up at the skies! / O look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air!"

— Gerard Manley Hopkins, from 'The Starlight Night'

"...I wanted to go on watching the stars, where the most extraordinary things were happening [...] stars were quietly shooting and tumbling and disappearing, silently falling and being extinguished, lost utterly silent falling stars, falling from nowhere to nowhere into an unimaginable extinction. How many of them there were, as if the heavens were crumbling at last and being dismantled."

"As I lay there, listening to the soft slap of the sea, and thinking these sad and strange thoughts, more and more and more stars had gathered, obliterating the separateness of the Milky Way and filling up the whole sky. And far far away in that ocean of gold, stars were silently shooting and falling and finding their fates, among those billions and billions of merging golden lights. And curtain after curtain of gauze was quietly removed, and I saw stars behind stars behind stars..."

⁠— Iris Murdoch, from 'The Sea, the Sea'

"…anticipating a meeting / With the one who became my star,"

— Anna Akhmatova, from ‘Plantain’: Untitled, tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

"Then the river staring up, lovesick for the moon, / is my long night. / Then the stars between us are love / urging its light."

— Carol Ann Duffy, Rapture; from 'Absence'

"He is my life now, my male muse, my pole-star centering me steady & right."

— Sylvia Plath, from ‘The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath’

"A high cold star on a winter's night is the word he feels that she says to him."

— Stephen Crane, The Red Badge of Courage and Other Stories; from 'The Open Boat'

"I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen. Your's ever, fair Star,"

— John Keats

"…the joy of living with you so vivid and present by the dour contrast of your absence; but I am in a queer way, capable of being happy completely alone; living with my god, which is you; like a nun; I talk to you each night before I go to bed, opening the window wide, leaning out, looking at clouds of stars, smelling the wet earth and concentrating hard and completely on you, whatever you’re doing, wherever you are."

— Sylvia Plath, from 'The Letters of Sylvia Plath Volume I: 1940–1956'; from a letter to Ted Hughes

"Let me name the stars for you."

— Richard Siken, Crush; from 'Snow and Dirty Rain'

"If you were a star, / I would gaze by the window till dawn, / And peace would enter my soul."

— Anna Akhmatova, from 'The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova', tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

"…him pressing against / me, his lips at my neck, and yes, I do believe / his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me / like stars."

— Richard Siken, Crush; from 'Saying Your Names'

"But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. Such a constellation was he to me."

— Madeline Miller, from 'Circe'

"I want / to weave my fingers through your hair / find a nook in your throat / where with a muffled whisper / the heart defies the lips / I want / to mix your name with stars / with blood / to be inside, you"

— Halina Poświatowska, from 'Indeed I love', tr. Maya Peretz

"We had found the stars, you and I. And this is given once only."

— André Aciman, from ‘Call Me By Your Name’

"I will think of you, you / who are so far away / you have caused me to look up at the stars."

— Tess Gallagher, from 'Under Stars'

“If only at the midnight hour / You’d send me a greeting across the stars.”

— Anna Akhmatova, Seventh Book; from Sweetbrier In Blossom; ‘In a Dream’, tr. Judith Hemschemeyer

#compilations #long post #stars

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drwcn · 4 years

Text

《Without Envy》- concubine/sleeper agent!wwx & prince!lwj

[story board 1] [story board 2] [story board 3] [story board 4] [story board 5] [story board 6]

snippets (non-chrono): [1]

snippet #2 →

Wei Wuxian was absolutely rubbish at being a servant, anyone could tell you that. Without mentioning that he was the antithesis of subservient, just the manner in which he was raised did not prepare him for the bullshit of becoming Lan Wangji’s personal attendant.

Wen Ruohan fed him, clothed him, taught him and trained him, but no skills that was imbued into his young mind had anything to do with waiting at another’s hand and foot. Wen Ruohan had high expectations and accepted nothing short of perfection which Wei Wuxian delivered on all fronts, but at the end of the day, there were servants tending to Wei Wuxian at Nevernight. His maids tidied his room, his footmen delivered his messages, and Nevernight’s cooks were charmed and bribed into preparing his favourite dishes.

Even at Jiang-fu, after he cheated and lied and manipulated his way past their defenses, he was quickly embraced by the inner family. Well... okay, Madam Yu was still a little frosty, but she gave him a red-pouch filled with silver coins at New Year, so he’d say he had made significant progress.

Long story short: Wei Wuxian may not be a prince, but he certainly was no street rat.

So, this getting up at the ass crack of dawn business was definitely going to be a problem

Though, never let it be said that he, Wei Ying, Wei Wuxian, shirked from a challenge. Since he entered Hanguang-fu, he had been planning to make an impression on Lan Wangji, and what an impression it would be if he could meet Lan Wangji’s every need on the very first day.

Thus, Wei Wuxian planned, he plotted, he delineated a plan that was foolproof. He had whipped up a modified time tracker that made use of the normal sand mechanism and added an additional function which would trickle a bell when the sand ran out.

Lan Wangji liked to take a morning bath, according to the servants. Wei Wuxian aimed to rise early enough to heat the bath, prep Lan Wangji’s court robes and have his breakfast waiting on the table by the time the man was cleaned and dressed. Yes... all of this would work out swimmingly.

Except of course, Wei Wuxian did not anticipate that Lan Wangji was a complete freak of nature.

In the courtyard outside of his bedchamber, half hidden in the silent greyness of the moments before dawn, Lan Wangji wielded his bichen through a series of formations.

Wei Wuxian stumbled at the round archway, freezing in surprise at seeing his mark already awake. He didn’t like being caught off guard; it didn’t make for a very long lifespan as a spy.

Lan Wangji was dressed down in only a course white linen robe and grey trousers. Wei Wuxian watched him carefully, observing his movements as he swept across the courtyard, rapid and fluid, like torrents over rocky river beds.

Perfectly balanced. Impressive. Silent and still, he stood on the sideline, analyzing the prince’s footwork, taking apart his idiosyncrasies, and memorizing his signature. Unlike so many of their contemporaries whose swordsmanship was more flashy than functional, Wei Wuxian could tell that Gusu’s Hanguang-wang trained to win, to disarm, to kill.

Lan Wangji...what an opponent you will be. He hid a smirk. Suibian was tucked away in a compartment beneath his floorboard, and a wild part of him itched to take it out and try it on his mark. Lan Wangji would not be an easy foe to defeat, but Wei Wuxian did not care about that; his heart picked up speed just imagining it.

It helped that Lan Wangji was also undeniably beautiful.

One day, your Bichen will have to contend with my Suibian -

OW!

A sudden smack up the back of his head broke Wei Wuxian out of his ruminations. The sudden assault triggered the defensive part of his psyche, which at its core was that of an assassin, and he whipped around in a split second, without taking care to guard his expression.

Yue-gongong, Lan Wangji’s eunuch and the second superintendent of the prince’s court jolted in surprise, taken aback by the hardness in this servant boy’s face and the heat in his eyes.

Realizing his slip up, Wei Wuxian immediately slapped on a sheepish smile. “Ah, Yue-gongong, you scared me, haha! I - I -”

“You lazy ox!’ Easily fooled, the eunuch immediately went back to berating him angrily. “Waking up so late and leaving dianxia without anyone to aid him! Heaven knows why dianxia would favour you to be his attendant!”

He smacked Wei Wuxian twice with handle-end of the horsetail whisk that high-ranking eunuchs carried.

When the time comes, I’m gutting you first. Thought Wei Wuxian as he shrank back pitifully in accordance with his continued pretense of being a helpless twink.

“Yue-gongong.” Lan Wangji’s smooth baritone voice cut through the eunuch’s banshi-esque screech. “That’s enough. It’s Wei Ying’s first day. Do not blame him.”

Yue-gonggong shot Wei Wuxian one last glare and backed off. “Yes dianxia.”

“You’re dismissed for now.” “Yes dianxia.” The eunuch bowed and retreated back to his duties elsehwere.

Wei Wuxian quickly got on his knees and thanked Lan Wangji, “Dianxia, A-Xian - uhm, Wei Ying - Wei Ying apologizes for being tardy. I will go boil water for your bath right away!”

“No need,” replied Lan Wangji. “I take my morning baths cold.”

Cold....bath??? Is this another weird Lan practice?

Growing up under Wen Ruohan’s guidance, Wei Wuxian was raised to think that Gusu Lans were a sentimental bunch, too emotional to be fit for ruling because they could not put the needs of the country before their own. Wei Wuxian knew of the reputation of Gusu’a previous emperor, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji’s father, who still lived yet had shirked from his responsibility to the throne. He was not the only emperor in history to have lost a dear love, but the the death of his empress had caused him to lose all motivation for ruling, the duty of which he had pushed onto his oldest son.

Perhaps if Wei Wuxian had been raised by Jiang Fengmian, he would appreciate the depth of taishang-huang’s love for his empress, but the current Wei Wuxian, trained and molded by Wen Ruohan, could not muster up any respect this sentimental fool. A part of him had hoped that Lan Xichen would be different, that he could show Wen Ruohan he was a worthy equal, that Wen Ruohan’s ambition could be culled if only Gusu’s Emperor was just as strong...

...but Lan Xichen was just as weak; refusing to provide heirs for the crown after Nie Mingjue passed.

“Come, stand.” A shadow appeared over him. Wei Wuxian slowly raised his head to see Lan Wangji standing before him with an outstretched hand. “Rise, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian stared at that outstretched hand, calloused along the palm and along the finger tips: the hand of a musician and a warrior. How strange indeed. Yet, when he dared reach out to it with one of his own and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, he found that Lan Wangji’s grip was warm and gentle.

Sentimentality is the death of power.

He swallowed despite himself.

“Thank you, dianxia.”

“Mn.”

Wei Wuxian didn’t particularly enjoy being a spy, but Wen Ruohan was like a father to him, and he believed in him and in the better future that Wen Ruohan could provide to Gusu if he were to rule.

Wei Wuxian didn’t know it then, but slowly, he would be proven wrong.

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #without envy #corie fics #cql ficlet

211 notes · View notes

bts-bay-bee · 4 years

Text

blue

↳ pairing: park jimin x reader

↳ genre: smut, fluff, a tiny bit of angst if you squint

↳ summary: teaching your cold boss to love might just be the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

↳ warnings: CEO!jimin, cold!jimin, dom!jimin, assistant!reader, cursing, male masturbation, fantasizing (?), vaginal fingering, oral (male and female receiving), cum eating, marking, daddy kink, pussy slapping, praise kink (kinda?), choking, handcuffs, nipple clamps, clit massager, multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), degradation (slight)

↳ word count: 13 066

↳ meaning of blue: heaven. authority. cold. wet. slow. depression. trust. intelligence.

“Is he here yet?” You asked, out of breath as you ran to your desk at work. The office secretary shook her head, no, making you sigh out in relief. You had been massively late for work which ended up with you running up the many flights of stairs – in heels – deeming the elevator too slow to get you to your office.

You flashed the office secretary a huge smile, hoping that would further prod her to cover up for your tardiness, before walking over to your office, which was conveniently located right next to your boss’s much larger, much sleeker office.

Park Jimin had been your boss for the better part of five years now. You had undertaken the job when you had finished high school, looking for anything and everything to bring any amount of money into your bank account. University tuition fee statements were your personal version of hell; the obscenely large number crushed any of the dreams you once had. But then came along Mr Park.

When he had seen your curriculum vitae, he had immediately been intrigued. Back then he wasn’t CEO of the company, but he had started to quickly move up the proverbial ranks, which allowed him to finally acquire a personal assistant to handle the lesser tasks. A high school graduate – with straight A’s in every subject – hadn’t chosen to go to college? That’s what had made him so intrigued with you. In a few short hours after he had first reviewed your resume, you had gone through a short telephonic interview then you had been asked to come in for a trial period. One which you had passed with flying colours.

Jimin couldn’t help himself but ask about your lack of tertiary education. With a flushed face and shaking hands, you embarrassedly told him about your lack of funds. It was only embarrassing because here you were talking about your financial issues to a man who had a year’s worth of tuition on his wrist in the form of a shiny gold Rolex. Another year’s worth of tuition was probably wrapped around his ring finger, because of course no man as rich, successful and not to mention handsome wouldn’t have a wedding ring on.

Jimin’s wife, Irene – who you had only met a handful of times – was the complete opposite of the warm, caring man. She was cold and distant, even towards her husband, who was supposedly her high school sweetheart. How they managed to stay together for so long boggled your mind. Slowly, you started to see Jimin change. His once fond smile slowly disappeared, now being replaced by a cold, grim straight line. He stopped caring about the people he worked with. He even began to sneer at lesser workers, not bothering to greet the janitors or the office secretary.

Sitting at your shiny, mahogany desk you began to review emails for Jimin, sifting through the numerous subject lines and forwarding the emails to him so that he could take care of them. At around 10am you left your desk, realising that you had to make Jimin coffee. After adding the espresso shot and steamed milk into the coffee mug, you walked to the large door of Jimin’s office, knocking three times before waiting for a response.

“Enter.” His voice was clipped, meaning he was already in a foul mood.

You quietly pushed down the door handle and entered, your eyes trained on the floor as you made your way to his desk. Without speaking you placed the steaming cup of coffee in front of him, then began to make your way back to your office. Jimin hadn’t taken his eyes off of his large LCD screen, not paying you any attention. However, before you could take a step away from him, his cold, hard voice reached your ears.

“Take a seat, Miss L/N.”

Oh, you were screwed. There was no two ways about it.

“Yes, Sir.”

He never told you to sit after bringing him his coffee. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to face him and took a seat on the edge of the plush chairs. Jimin’s cold eyes still trailed over his monitor, making you squirm slightly from awkwardness. What did he want? He hadn’t asked you to sit with him since… Well, since before he was married. This just wasn’t something you did anymore.

After what seemed like hours, he lifted his eyes from the harshly lit screen, bring his eyes to your own. Flushing a light shade of pink, you cleared your throat and looked down again. You didn’t want to disrespect him by staring right back at him.

“Where’s your coffee?” He quietly asked, picking up his mug.

“I, uh… I didn’t make myself any, Sir.” You replied, eyes trained on your twiddling thumbs. He sighed, rolling his chair back slightly so that he was more comfortable.

“Don’t you want to go make yourself a cup? I need to speak to you about something.” Jimin said, loosening the tie he had dawned today slightly. You were frozen in the leather chair – had you done something wrong? Was he going to fire you? He noticed you hadn’t moved, which caused him to frown. “Is the idea of drinking coffee with me really that appalling, Y/N?”

“No! I just…” You began, wringing your hands nervously, your eyes still not leaving them. “Are you going to fire me?”

Jimin looked at you, stunned. “Why would think that?”

“Well… I was a little late for work today, and you asked me to sit down. You don’t ask me to sit down and have coffee with you, Sir. It was almost as if you were going to give me bad news.”

“I used to always ask you to have coffee with me, Y/N.” He replied, frowning slightly. He knew that you used to have coffee with him on a daily basis, usually to discuss the work for the day, but coffee, nonetheless. He also knew that at one point you used to meet his eyes when you spoke to him. When did that change? “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” You asked, avoiding his question that you had no nice answer to. Did he really want to hear that his wife berated you repeatedly for working with him so closely? For looking at him when he spoke to you, and vice versa?

Jimin eyed you warily. “Are you sure you don’t want coffee?” You nodded wordlessly, only making him deepen his frown. Nevertheless, he ploughed on, settling on the fact that this was now what your relationship had been reduced to. “I have a promotion of sorts for you. Well, in actual fact, it’s just a favour for me. A rather large favour.”

“Sir?” You prodded, urging him to speak when he had stopped. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes out of sheer tiredness. He had been awake all night, thinking about how to ask you this.

“As you know, Irene and I have been separated for some time now.” He began, making you reel with shock. When did they split up?! And why did he think that you knew about it? “We recently decided to finalise it and get a divorce. She left last week. She left Ezra with me.”

Ezra is Jimin’s five-year-old son. Despite his mother being an absolute witch and his father turning colder with each passing day, he was still a respectful boy. Like Irene, you hadn’t really seen him that many times.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” You softly replied, not knowing what else to say. Where was this going? “I didn’t know this had been happening, Sir.”

Jimin shrugged, not really worried about the fact that he was divorced. That’s not what had been bothering him. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we were ever actually in love. Anyway, Irene isn’t what I need to speak to you about. It’s Ezra.”

“I’m sure this has been very taxing on him too.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You still didn’t know where this was going, and it was driving you crazy.

“He’s too young to really understand what’s been happening.” He replied, his jaw clenched, angry at himself for not being able to articulate why he so desperately needed your help.

“I, um… I’m not really the domestic type. I don’t know how to cook. I don’t know how to take care of a child. I’ve been dropping Ezra off at my parents every day since Irene left, but I don’t want him to grow up spending most of his day at someone else’s house. He should be at his home. And, I know, I can hire someone to babysit him, but he’s still so young to be left with strangers, and I don’t want to put his life in unnecessary danger. I mean, you never know what these people could be behind a façade –”

“Sir, where do I fit in?” You asked, amused at his rambling. This isn’t the cold CEO that you became used of. This was the old Jimin, the Jimin that had actually been interested about his employees, regardless of the amount on their pay cheque.

He cleared his throat, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I know that you’re not under any obligation to help me, but I trust you more than anyone else in my life, Y/N. I need… I need someone to help me with Ezra. Not just with Ezra, but with the whole domestic thing.”

“Mr Park, I still don’t know where I fit in.” You said soothingly, getting somewhat of an idea of what he was asking you.

He ran his hand though his styled blonde hair in exasperation. Why couldn’t he just say what he needed from you? “Move in with me.” Shit. That’s not how he had meant to phrase it.

You choked on nothing; the way he had blurted it out had surprised you, which ended up with you looking up at him with watery eyes from a lack of oxygen. He immediately jumped out of his chair and rushed over to you, lightly tapping your back until you could breathe easily again. Having him this close to you made you even more nervous than you already were. After your choking ordeal was over, he surprised you by taking a seat next to you instead of going to the other side of the desk. His cologne wafted over you, dosing you in his masculine scent. It honestly made you more nervous that you already were.

“Move in with you?” You repeated, in a small voice. Jimin looked mortified at your reaction, mentally bashing himself for even thinking of asking you this. But he was already in too deep to change the narrative.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Obviously, you wanted to help him – you want to help everyone around you. It was just who you were as a person. But how would it look? The world you lived in was a rather nasty, judgemental one.

“Sir… Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but what would people think? You barely finalised your divorce and you already have another woman moving in?”

“Just temporarily.” He weakly replied, embarrassment showing on his cheeks. “Of course, I know that this is such a huge favour to ask, I know it’s odd, but I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I wasn’t completely out of options.”

You bit your lower lip, then sighed. Curse your soft heart. Running a hand through your hair, you nodded to him. “We have a lot more to discuss, but when can I move in?”

***

“This is the living room… This is the kitchen… Your bedroom is upstairs, next to mine.” Jimin timidly said, scratching the back of his reddened neck. This nervous side of Jimin was quite new, and you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t make you amused. Ever since you drove into the driveway five minutes ago, he had been stumbling over his words, tripping over nothing and wringing his hands.

“Sir, are you okay?” You asked before you could stop yourself. He caught your eye, opening his mouth to brush you off, but was left speechless when you didn’t shy away from his gaze. His mouth curved into a soft smile, realising that it was just you. There was no reason to be a nervous, rambling mess.

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He murmured, seeing the way your eyes danced with amusement. Who would’ve thought that the cold, cutthroat CEO would be rendered speechless from having his personal assistant in his home? “I’ve been thinking… I mean, you are essentially going to be living here for a while. I don’t want you to feel as if you’re forced to maintain a professional persona the entire time. Call me Jimin.”

“Okay, Si – Jimin.” You replied, quickly catching yourself. The feel of his name on your tongue foreign yet… Right. Jimin smiled at you, his nervousness of having you in his house now forgotten. Who would’ve thought that all it took to get rid of them was just one look into your eyes? But now his stomach was twisting for a different reason. Why did it flip when you said his name?

“Where’s Ezra?” Your question hung in the air as he abandoned any thought about the butterflies wreaking havoc in the pit of his tummy. Almost as if saying his name summoned him, the boy suddenly appeared to walk down the stairs. His dark hair was greatly contrasted by his honeyed skin; his cheeks so full that they gently shook with every step he took. Ezra was truly the miniature version of Jimin.

He bowed to his father almost a little too fast, making you raise your eyebrow. Upon setting his eyes on his son, Jimin stood up even straighter than he already was and lifted his chin, regarding Ezra with cold eyes.

“This is Y/N.” Jimin told the young boy, his jaw clenched. Jimin almost seemed angry at Ezra. “She’s going to be helping us while your mother is away.”

***

“Good morning, Ezra.” You sang softly as you slowly opened the curtains in his bedroom. You saw his eyes peak up at you through the covers of his grey blanket, then abruptly squint when the sun’s rays hit them. “Did you sleep well?”

“Hmm.” He mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The long sleeves of his blue pyjamas flopped over the tips of his fingers, only increasing the cuteness currently assaulting your eyes. You smiled at him, hoping that today was the day that he completely opened up to you – having already been here for two weeks surely must’ve made him somewhat comfortable with you, right?

“How about after you get bathed and changed, we have pancakes for breakfast?” You suggested as you ran your hands through his messy bedhead, smoothing the black tufts of hair. Ezra said nothing, instead he nodded at you, sleep still quite evident in his eyes.

After tidying up Ezra’s room, you walked into the kitchen with the intent of making some coffee for Jimin and yourself. As you put a couple scoops of ground coffee beans in the machine, you began prepping the ingredients for breakfast. If you worked fast enough, Jimin might be able to eat before he goes to the office. Humming as you gracefully moved throughout the kitchen, you quickly lost track of time.

“Are you… Making pancakes?” Jimin incredulously asked, eyes sweeping over the stack of pancakes that he found next to you on the counter. You hummed, flashing him a small smile, before going back to flipping the golden pancakes in front of you.

This was the first time that he had seen you in your natural state – usually you were already showered and changed before he even woke up, but today you just didn’t feel like keeping up the pretence. You were basically going to be living here for a couple more weeks – you didn’t feel like faking how organised you were as soon as you woke up. Even though you did feel kind of insecure and quite frankly embarrassed about the way you were dressed at the moment, Jimin felt totally different. Of course, he knew that you were gorgeous, but with your hair pulled in a messy bun and your thighs on display thanks to your sleeping shorts, Jimin just couldn’t help but stare at you.

His eyes studied the exposed flesh of your legs, unknowingly biting his plump lip when you turned around to get something from the cupboard behind you. Jimin only tore his eyes away from your unmarred skin when Ezra climbed onto the stool next to him.

You smiled at Ezra as you placed a stack of pancakes in front of him, the breath-taking curve of your pink lips were enough to make Jimin reciprocate the action, even though it wasn’t even being directed at him. When did he become to enamoured with you? Was it when you agreed to help him in his desperate time of need, or long before that? He couldn’t help but think that you were somewhat like a guardian angel – his own, personal angel, who makes his day a little brighter.

“Jimin? Jimin? Jimin!” You called, trying to capture his attention. He had spaced out, not realising that both you and Ezra had been attempting to talk to him. You nudged his shoulder gently, causing him to finally get out of his daydream and look at you confused. “We’ve been trying to speak to you. You kind of entered your own world there.” You explained to him, unable to prevent the tiny laughter from leaving your mouth.

Ezra had long since given up trying to talk to his father; any five year old child would want their father’s attention, but Ezra (even at his tender age) knew that his relationship with Jimin was somewhat strained; his father had already been corrupted by the cold CEO attitude to ever give him any attention. This was why Ezra was already almost done with his stack of pancakes – he didn’t want to spend any more time with Jimin than needed. Well, he knew that Jimin didn’t want to spend any more time with him than needed.

“I’m sorry, I was… Thinking.” Jimin apologised sheepishly, making Ezra confused. For as long as he had been alive, he hadn’t heard his father utter an apology. Not even to his mother. But Ezra was already confused – not once had his mother ever made him breakfast, let alone eat breakfast together. Was this what a normal family did every day? “What were you saying, Y/N?”

“I was wondering if it would be okay for me to take Ezra to the craft store today.” You repeated, nervously. “Ezra likes to draw and paint, and so do I, so I wanted to get us some more supplies –” Jimin didn’t even wait for you to finish before sliding his credit card over to you, making you look at him confused. “I wasn’t hinting for money, Sir, I just wanted to take Ezra with me.”

“I know, but please take it.” He murmured, dropping his gaze to the delectable stack of food in front of him. “And what did we talk about, Y/N? Stop calling me Sir. I’m not your boss here. Think of this as your home.”

“It’s just a habit…” You awkwardly explained, trying not to make too much a fool of yourself, as Ezra hopped down the chair and went to wash his hands. “It feels disrespectful to call you anything other than Sir.”

“I remember that you used to call me Chim before.” He muttered, thinking back to when you had first started at the company. You had been so playful with him, something that he misses dearly. His admission made you blush a deep scarlet. How did he even remember something as trivial as a stupid nickname?

As you opened your mouth to respond, you heard Ezra struggling to reach the faucet in the basin. Before you could turn to help him, he frantically hit the tap falling to the floor, subsequently turning the water on to a very high pressure. You suddenly felt water spray everywhere, falling all over the granite top, the floor, as well as you and Ezra.

You quickly shut the tap off, ignoring the water dripping down your face and checked to see if Ezra was fine.

“Are you okay, baby?” You murmured, wiping the water off of his face as his eyes filled with tears. “Did you get hurt?”

“Why didn’t you ask one of us for help?” Jimin asked in a firm voice, anger obviously showing on his face and in his voice. “Now look at what you’ve done!”

Ezra doesn’t respond to either of you. Instead, he took one look at Jimin’s face and ran out the kitchen, tears streaming down his face. You stood up and looked at Jimin in disbelief.

“It was just a mistake, Jimin. There was no need for you to speak to him like that.” You said stiffly, trying not to let your irritation shine through. You turned away from him, quickly cleaning up the water before ignoring Jimin’s silence and walking up the stairs into Ezra’s room.

Jimin really didn’t mean to do what he did. It came from years and years of being forced to be strict and abrupt with his employees. He meant to tell you that – he really did. But when you angrily snapped at him with a soaking wet, white shirt, he lost all train of thought. The water had turned the material see-through, showing off your plump tits, even flaunting the darker ring of your nipple. He was so lucky you were not there to see him frozen, mind unable to function from seeing your breasts.

‘Stop acting like some fucking schoolboy,’ he chided himself as he fixed his semi-hard length through his slacks, ‘you got hard after seeing her tits, for God’s sake. Pull yourself together.’

After checking the coast to make sure it was clear, he all but ran back into his room, hoping to hide his slightly stiffened member from you. As Jimin walked past Ezra’s room, he heard you soothingly reassuring the child that he hadn’t meant to shout at him. Hearing the way you had to quieten Ezra made his heart clench – you barely knew his son, yet you were comforting him after one of Jimin’s many outbursts. Of course Jimin didn’t want to compare you and Irene, the two relationships you shared with Jimin and Ezra were completely different, but she never cared for Ezra the way you do. She never bothered to notice that Ezra had been interested in art; hell, even he hadn’t noticed that.

Thoughts of how loving you are, how much you cared about people, filled his head for the rest of the day. His employees and business partners must’ve thought he had completely lost his mind: Jimin’s face had this faraway look the entire day, only changing when his mind decided to remind him just how delectable you looked this morning.

Jimin had been so out of it, so infatuated by you, he decided that there was no use being at work anymore. He wasn’t getting anything done anyway so that’s how he found himself driving back home early, subconsciously wanting to be back in your presence immediately.

“Y/N?” He called as he walked through the front door, loosening his tie. Not hearing your voice in response made him frown; you were usually waiting in the living room to greet him, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand and a bright, dazzling smile on your lips. He could care less about the coffee if he’s being honest. “Y/N, where are you?”

Silence once again met his ears causing him to frown deeper. Worry suddenly filled his every orifice. Immediately fishing his phone out of his pocket, his fingers almost went on autopilot, dialling your number before pressing the phone to his ear. His heart pounded in his chest when you didn’t pick up by the second ring. Where had you gone?

“Hello?”

“Y/N? Are you okay?! Where are you?” Jimin said loudly, almost yelling. His tone made you confused; you had told him that you were taking Ezra out today. Why was he so frantic?

“I’m fine, Jimin. Ezra and I just picked up some stuff from the store. Why are you asking?”

“I thought…” He couldn’t even finish the rest of his sentence because he didn’t know what he had thought. He cleared his throat, trying to clear your mind. “Never mind. Are you on your way back?”

After you reassured Jimin that you were indeed coming back soon, he let out a sigh of relief and ended the call. He didn’t know why, but not coming home to you felt… Wrong. You had only been here for two weeks, yet he can’t imagine living in this house without you; he sure as hell couldn’t figure out how he lived here with the emotionless statue that was Irene.

Jimin walked past into the kitchen with the intention of getting himself a snack but his eyes drifted to the sink, his mind betraying him by vividly reminding him of the way you looked this morning. God, the way your shirt had stuck to you, tempting him with the subtle curve of your waist, your voluptuous tits… Not to mention the way you had looked at him sternly. Everything about you made his head spin. Everything about you seemingly sent a rush of blood down to his cock.

Biting his lip, his mind veered into uncharted territory by imagining just how good you looked without the dripping wet shirt. He imagined kissing down your body, marking you as his, and his alone, then spreading your legs, suckling on your needy clit…

Before he knew it, Jimin was rock hard in his slacks from the mere thought of you for the second time today. He groaned when he felt his stiffness, irritated with himself because now he knew he had to get himself off, and he hated it. Jimin had only his hand to keep him company for the better part of two years now – himself and Irene hadn’t engaging in sexual activity whilst separated, despite living in the same house, and he couldn’t bring himself to bed anyone else whilst still legally married. Other than that, he found it humiliating to buy a sex toy in person, or even online – his company’s IT people could probably see his search history if they tried hard enough.

Jimin sighed, knowing that his erection was solely his fault. He trudged up the stairs, situating himself in his en-suite bathroom, before turning the shower on. He hated jacking off, but he might as well make the clean-up easy. Stripping out of his work clothes he quickly hopped into the shower, trying to ignore the almost painful stiffness protruding from his body.

Leaning his back and head against the tiled wall behind him, he allowed the water to cascade over him, relishing in the steaming hot water that soothed him. Jimin tried to not touch his boner for as long as he could but five minutes into the shower, he just couldn’t stop himself from gently stroking himself. He grabbed his shower gel, foaming up his hands so that it would be easier to jack himself off.

“Oh, fuck!” He groaned, taking his curved length into his slippery palm, moving back and forth on the sensitive flesh. Continuing the motion, he applied more pressure around his cock, relishing in the feeling of getting himself off. But he so wished it were you.

He wished it were your wet pussy squeezing and clenching around his dick, gripping him like a vice. He wished he could wrap your legs around his waist and pound into you, pulling on your hair and sucking on your neck, leaving deep purple marks so that everyone knew you were his. He wished he could paint the inside of your dripping cunt with his cum, making you hold it in and walk around the office with no panties, seeing evidence of his climax slowly drip down your legs.

“God, Y/N…” Jimin whined, his usually steely voice reduced to a pitched, needy moan. He wanted you so fucking badly, and he was so fucking close. His hand moved with a mind of its own – it doubled its speed, exerting itself to relieve Jimin. Throaty groans left his plump lips, bouncing off of the tiles and echoing throughout the bathroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Somehow squeezing tighter around his pulsating cock, he got more frantic. Jimin began bucking into his fist, ignoring how his wet hair stuck to his forehead. After a few more seconds of fucking into his hand, he let out a growl, his cum squirting up and landing on his toned stomach. “Y/N, I’m coming!”

***

“Why don’t you go up to your room.” You suggested to Ezra, ruffling his hair lightly as you walked into Jimin’s living room. He leaned into your touch, clearly affection-starved, making you frown. You’d have to talk to Jimin about that. You noticed just how cold and strict Jimin was with Ezra; of course it wasn’t your place to say anything about how someone raises their child, but it did become your place when said child has to look for comfort from you.

“Are you going to come paint with me?” Ezra asked timidly, one hand gripping the shopping bag filled with art supplies, while the other gripped your hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

“In a little bit, sweetheart.” You murmured, walking up the staircase that lead to the rooms. “Go set up. I just need to talk to your father about something.”

He nodded, only leaving your hand when you walked past his bedroom. You walked to the end of the hallway, planning on giving Jimin a piece of your mind for being so unloving towards Ezra. Without knocking, you entered the room hoping to find Jimin laying on his bed or something, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Sir?” You said quietly, before berating himself. Hadn’t he told you not to call him that? You cleared your throat, steeling your voice before calling loudly again. “Jimin?”

As you walked further into his room, you heard the shower running, indicating that he was already occupied. You decided to talk to him later, so you turned on your heel and began to walk out the room. Suddenly, you heard Jimin’s voice. “Y/N, I’m coming!”

Huh. Okay. Guess he was cutting his shower short for you.

You sat on the edge of his bed, elbow resting on your crossed legs and chin resting on your open palm. What if you were about to say something hurtful and he decided that he didn’t need you anymore? Maybe this was a bad idea.

In a split second, you decided that this conversation could happen another day, so you started to make your way out of his room. As you were about to lift yourself off of the luxurious bed, the bathroom door opened, letting steam escape the bathroom, and also allowing you to see your boss.

Your jaw dropped open seeing Jimin in nothing but a white towel covering his lower body. Water droplets streaked down his chest, down to his toned abs. Upon seeing them, you felt your mouth go completely dry… Oh god, his body looked like it was carved by the gods themselves. Jimin looked shocked, almost panicked by your presence, which was weird since he had told you he was coming out of his shower.

“I, um… I needed to talk to you.” You said, quickly, standing up hurriedly. “I was about to leave and then you said you’d be coming out the shower. I just assumed you wanted me to wait for you.” Jimin’s cheeks were tinged red, probably from the hot shower, paired with his second-hand embarrassment from you. “I’m sorry. I’ll just speak to you later. I’ll be in Ezra’s room if you need me.”

And with that, you practically ran out of Jimin’s room. You didn’t realise that you didn’t allow him to get a word in. Speed walking to Ezra’s room, you felt your cheeks heat up from extreme embarrassment – how, just how, did you think it was appropriate to check out your boss? Sure, you were living in his house, but it’s totally a different thing.

“Y/N?” Ezra called, confused when you rushed into his room and shut the door behind you quickly. You quickly took a deep breath to calm your radical breathing, then turned to the young child, putting on a dazzling smile.

“Yes, sweetheart?” You replied, seeing a smile forming on his lips due to your own. Your eyes drifted to the painting supplies that he had spread in front of him, all untouched, because he was waiting for you to paint with him.

“Did father give you work? Or can you come paint with me?” He timidly said, eyes full of hope. You felt your smile turn tender; you know that you only spent a few weeks with him, but Ezra had completely captured your heart. But paired with your tenderness, you felt yourself feel a pang of sadness: Ezra never called Jimin anything other than ‘father’. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but it just showed that their relationship wasn’t the best, nor were they the closest. God, how can you think about fixing their relationship when you were drooling over his father five seconds ago? You’re pathetic.

“I came to paint with you.” You reassured, swallowing hard to try and get that delicious image of Jimin out of your mind.

***

After you left, Jimin sat on the edge of his bed, extremely embarrassed that you had heard him jacking off. Sure, you didn’t exactly figure it out, but you had heard him nonetheless. He quickly found himself regretting doing what he did, not because you were his PA, but because you were obviously so innocent; even though he had caught you checking him out, he’s pretty sure that your mind didn’t extend to anything else. Unlike him.

He sighed, knowing that he had to face you momentarily. Park Jimin – a married man – had been thinking of his assistant, who’s selflessly helping him by living in his house, while he masturbated. How fucked up is he? What kind of person –

Stopping his self-derogatory monologue, he realised that he had nothing to be angry or ashamed about: he was no longer a married man, and as far as he knew, you were completely single. What was stopping him from advancing on you? It was almost as if a lightbulb had gone off in his brain. What was stopping him?

With his mind made up, he decided to quickly slip on some clothes, probably needing to make a better impression than just a towel hanging loosely from his hips, then walked down the stairs to where you were making dinner.

“Y/N?” He called, walking with purpose into the kitchen. His eyes fell to you chopping up some onions with Ezra quietly sketching something next to you. He suddenly felt awkward – the whole situation was too… Domestic for him. It was something that he never experienced.

But it was too late for him to change his mind. Swallowing hard, he cleared his throat and directed his gaze to Ezra. “Go to your room. I need to talk to Y/N.”

***

“Y/N?” Jimin called as he walked into the kitchen, seemingly angry. You immediately shrunk, thinking he was about to yell at you for waiting in his room. You felt nervousness fill your being at your pending doom. He turned his attention to Ezra, voice turning even harder. “Go to your room. I need to talk to Y/N.”

That simple command, ‘Go to your room. I need to talk to Y/N’, was enough to bring back all your anger that consumed you earlier. Jimin needed to fix his relationship with Ezra, and he needed to fix it fast.

Ezra wordlessly obeyed Jimin, hopping off the chair from next to you and making his way up to his room. Once he was safely back in his room you turned to Jimin, meeting his cold gaze, you refused to back down. Ezra needed you now.

“Y/N, are you –”

“Why do you speak to him like that, Jimin?” You coldly asked, trying to match his usual tone. “That’s what I needed to talk to you about earlier.” He didn’t reply to you, seemingly shocked in your tone and words. “I know it’s not my place to say anything, but it seems like no one else is willing to confront you about it. Ezra is just a child. It’s fine if you speak to me like that, I’m just your assistant, but he’s your child.”

“You’re more than just –”

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, visibly vibrating from fear, yet you still stood your ground. “You’re so cold towards him, Jimin. And why?”

He stood frozen in place, unsure of what to say. In the many years he has known you, you’ve never seemed so… Angry about something. You were almost a completely different person and it made Jimin feel unsure about himself for the first time in forever. He swallowed hard and broke eye contact with you, deciding to instead stare at the floor.

“I know that things must be hard because Irene isn’t here anymore, but you cannot allow that to effect Ezra.” You said softly, knowing that you had overstepped multiple boundaries. He opened his mouth to reply but found that he had no words to say. He had no excuse for his harshness towards Ezra.

Before you could say anything else – perhaps an apology, perhaps more wakeup calls for him – he quickly walked out of the kitchen, probably going to hide in his bedroom. You sighed, knowing that you were too harsh, yet also knowing that it needed to be said.

***

A few hours later, you still haven’t seen Jimin. He had been holed up in his room, doing God knows what, and didn’t even come out for dinner, which left you and Ezra to enjoy a quiet supper. But now it was late, and Ezra was currently knocked out in his room; apparently the shopping trip and then painting for hours was a little too much for his small body. The fact that he was sleeping was bad news for you – it left you to wallow in your thoughts, it left you to overthink.

Sighing as you turned on the shower, you began stripping and jumped into the shower, enjoying the soothing feeling of hot water caressing your skin. However, your relief was short lived as unwelcome thoughts of Jimin swam through your mind. It wasn’t your place to say anything; all you did was hurt him when he needed someone to help him.

‘I should probably apologise’, you mused as you rinsed soap off of your body, feelings of guilt and shame pooling in the pit of your stomach. Nodding to yourself, you quickly wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel, before going back to your room, planning to quickly change into your pyjamas before going over to apologise to Jimin. Before you could do anything of the sort, you heard someone knock on your door, making you frown.

“Ezra, is everything okay –?” You began, tightening the towel around you before pausing. It wasn’t Ezra, it was Jimin. He looked exhausted, worried even. Before you could say anything, he beat you to it.

“I think I have feelings for you.” He blurted, causing you to look at him confused. You didn’t even get a word in before a look of realisation came over him and he all but bolted back to his room, leaving you with your mouth agape. What. The. Fuck.

“J-Jimin!” You called, now worried for his sanity. You definitely shouldn’t have yelled at him earlier. He didn’t look back at you as he hurriedly closed his door. Exasperatedly, you walked down the hallway, and opened his door.

He was laying on his bed, face buried into a pillow. If you weren’t so worried about him, you might have actually laughed at the situation. “Jimin?” You softly said, making him groan.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Just ignore whatever I said. Go back to your room.”

“Why are you apologising?” You murmured, shutting the door and walking closer to him, ignoring what he said. He sighed into his pillow; face still buried there.

“Please go. I can’t face you right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said gently. “You need to learn how to express your feelings, Jimin. You can’t say something like that then run away.”

“I didn’t run away.” He grumbled, barely lifting his face off of his pillow to eye you out. This was so unlike the usual Jimin that you couldn’t help but feel worried. “Go get dressed, Y/N.”

“Then you’ll just lock your door so that I cannot get in.” You replied, suddenly acutely aware of your lack of clothing, making your cheeks heat with embarrassment. Clearing your throat, you tentatively walked forward, placing a hand on his muscular back. “Jimin? Please talk to me. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Go to your room.”

“Stop acting like a child.” You chastised, realizing that this was the only way to get him to talk to you. “You need to get used to talking about your feelings. Yours and Ezra’s relationship needs open communication –”

“Y/N, I swear I’ll talk about my fucking feelings as soon as you get some clothes on.” He all but yelled, suddenly sitting up with his eyes running hungrily over your exposed legs. “I can’t tell you what I need to when my mind is set on tearing that God damn towel off.”

You froze, completely shocked that he could ever say such a thing, let alone to you. Quickly shaking off your astonishment and arousal, you knew this was just a ploy to avoid talking about his feelings. Brushing your hand on his cheek, Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut while his chest rapidly rose and fell. Unbeknownst to you, he wasn’t using this as some tactic to get rid of you: he genuinely couldn’t get his mind off of your luscious thighs, wanting nothing more than to sink his teeth into it and mark you everywhere.

“Please…” He whimpered, leaning into your touch despite wanting – no, needing – you to leave. He didn’t know if you were at all interested in him, but if by some off chance you were, he didn’t want this to be the first time anything like that happened.

“Talk to me.” You whispered, worry and anxiousness blooming in your heart. What happened to the fearless, scary CEO? Where was he?

Within a millisecond you felt his hands grip your towel-clad waist, flipping you underneath him, allowing his toned thighs to trap your own bare legs. Your heart began to pound rapidly, only adding to the growing heat between your thighs.

“What do you want me to talk about?” He murmured as plump lips ghosting over your earlobe, resulting in a silent gasp to leave you. Why were his lips so soft? And why, oh God why, were you so responsive to his barest touch?

Gulping, you tried to move, knowing that Jimin wasn’t in the right state of mind for this. Even so, it was almost as if your body didn’t want to believe that; your arousal from him doing basically nothing was slowly becoming evident.

“Jimin, you’re not all there at the moment, we can talk about this in the morning –”

“No, you wanted to talk, so let’s fucking talk.” He snapped, running his hands over your calves, head buried in the crook of your neck and his lips ghosting over your pulse point. “Now what do you want me to tell you, Y/N, hmm? Want me to tell you that I want to bury my face in-between your legs?”

“Jimin!” You said, shocked at his lewd words. He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed, nor did he even pull away from your neck. Quietly kissing over your sensitive flesh, you began to feel goose bumps rise over your skin. He paid you no mind as his hands continued to roam over your exposed legs.

“Do you want me to tell you that I want to have my lips wrapped around your pretty little clit? Or how about finger fucking you until you’re cumming all over my hands? Hmm? Is that what you want, baby?”

As much as you wanted this, as much as you wanted him, you couldn’t allow him to do this. Not when he has such emotional issues. Tearing his lips away from your neck, you held his face securely between your hands.

“You’re thinking with your dick.” You firmly said, not missing the way his eyes were clouded with lust. He shook his head, trying to move back to ghost lips over your soft skin. “I cannot let you do something you’ll regret. I came here to talk about your feelings. You need to communicate with me.”

“Let me show you what I’m trying to say… You know I can’t… Use words for this.” He mumbled, feeling the foreign feeling of nervousness gnaw at him. “I’m not going to regret it, Y/N.”

Without waiting for a response, he removed your hands from his cheeks and instead cupped your own. “Can I kiss you?”

You were frozen, unable to think. Was this really happening? Did he really mean it?

Before you could answer him, you felt his soft lips gently ghost over your own, allowing you plenty time to move away if you wanted, before urgently pressing his lips onto yours. He tasted like mint, the fresh feeling making you sigh into his mouth. The tip of his tongue ran over your bottom lip, silently asking you to let him in. Tentatively parting your lips, you felt his tongue slowly slip next to your own, the corners of his mouth slightly lifting upwards to create a small grin.

‘Is this what it is supposed to feel like?’ he mused, feeling butterflies erupt in the pit of his stomach. He never had this feeling of Irene; hell, they never kissed unless he was balls deep inside of her, and even then, affectionate kisses were few and far between. Kisses between them used to be a clash of teeth, sloppy, usually out of irritation and just to keep each other quiet because they had a child down the hallway, but this… This was different. This was right.

Pushing his nervousness aside, he took one corner of your towel and slowly pushed it out of the way, giving you plenty time to stop him if you were uncomfortable. You didn’t stop him; you didn’t push him away – and why would you? You wanted him just as much (if not more) as he wanted you. Threading your fingers through his hair, you began kissing him harder, no longer fighting against your need for him. Even though you knew he wasn’t serious about his feelings for you, the sexual tension was too much for you to handle, especially since he looked so delectable hovering over your now naked body.

“Knew you had fucking amazing tits.” He murmured to himself, breaking away from your lips to kiss down your neck and chest. Your towel lay underneath you, no longer a barrier between your bodies. He sucked hard on your chest, marking the flesh just above your nipple with a love bite, eliciting an audible gasp from you.

Your arousal had begun to slowly drip out of you, the sticky fluid making your folds glisten, something that wasn’t missed by Jimin. After trailing down the length of your body, he placed a kiss over your mound, his eyes never leaving your own. With your heart beating profusely, you watched with bated breath as his eyes left yours to settle on your dripping folds.

“You can stop me whenever you want.” He promised, struggling to contain his excitement at finally being able to taste you. Nodding at him, you watched as he spread your thighs, trailing his lips over the sensitive flesh, before abruptly sucking harshly on your inner thigh. He proceeded to do this to your other thigh as well, taking his time to get to where you needed him. After marking both your thighs, he soothingly ran his tongue over the bruised flesh, only adding to your frustration.

“Jimin…” You quietly complained, your pussy throbbing from lack of attention. He looked up at you, laying his chin on your stomach, with a small smile on his features, making your heart stop. He was so gorgeous like this: carefree, happy.

“I have to take my time.” He whispered sadly, his smile still on his face. “I don’t know if you’d want anything to do with me afterwards. You might leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promised, heart wrenching at how lost he looked. Before any more words could be said, before any more reassuring sentiments could be uttered, Jimin peeled apart your folds, strands of sticky arousal visible connecting your lips. Whilst locking eyes with you, he repeatedly licked up your arousal, spreading your folds further to get him what he wants.

His warm, soft tongue glided against your slickness, drawing soft sighs and moans out of you. Your fingers made their way into his hair, needing to feel him in some type of way as he so gently suckled on your dripping core. The pleasure engulfed your entire being, all curtesy of Jimin’s delicate mouth. Slowly, you felt him prod a finger at your honeyed entrance, resulting in a moan being drawn out of you.

While he slowly worked his finger into your core, he leaned up and kissed you again, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. As you sucked on his bottom lip, making him chuckle at you, he inserted another finger into you, making you clench around his digits.

“Shit, baby, you’re so tight.” He groaned, feeling you contract on his fingers. “When’s the last time anyone stretched you out?”

“Jimin!” You moaned, feeling him massage that spongey flesh inside of you while his thumb rubbing loose circles over your slightly swollen clit.

“As much as I want to hear your moans, I need you to be quiet, baby.” He murmured onto your lips as he continued his actions. You whimpered into his mouth, unable to contain yourself. “Think you can be quiet for me?”

He didn’t wait for a reply; instead, he removed his hot mouth from your lips and placed it right on your clit, sucking harshly. Throwing your head back from the white-hot pleasure, you bit down your moans, wanting nothing more than to please him and be quiet.

“Pussy taste so fucking good.” He praised whilst smirking, a result of you bucking your hips further into him while biting your lip, silently asking for more. Suddenly, he gripped your hips tightly and pressed the flat of his tongue over your leaking cunt, collecting your arousal on his taste buds before swallowing the nectar down, eventually abandoning the movements to stick his stiffened tongue in your entrance repeatedly. His tongue fucked you mercilessly, relentlessly, all the while rubbing forceful circles on your clit. Pressure continued to mount in your abdomen, only amplifying the extreme pleasure Jimin was inflicting on you.

“J-Jimin… I’m going to…” You whimpered, your hands tangled in his hair as he suddenly added two fingers in you, using his mouth to suck on your clit harshly, almost painfully. He spread his fingers into a V, stretching your tight walls, kick starting your climax.

Your body arched off the bed, pushing your exposed breasts into the cool air. Jimin worked you through your orgasm, his tongue and fingers not relenting as you continuously convulsed around him, your cum sliding down into his tongue. Your cunt throbbed, the pleasure foreign after not being stimulated for so long, yet he didn’t stop. Continuing his actions, he began to lick thick, bold stripes with his tongue, giving no sign of stopping, despite you ceaselessly pulling on his hair out of sheer overstimulation.

“Jimin, Jimin, stop!” You whined, feeling the euphoric feeling evolve into something different. Because of your begs and pleas, his tongue relented; removing it from your pulsating clit to your lips. Tasting your cum on his tongue made you whimper, the mere thought of you tainting him was already turning you on again.

His plump, pink lips never left your own, even when he switched from hovering over you to laying next to you, using his hands to continuously rub and knead your soft thighs.

“You did so well for me, baby.” He praised, pulling you over his lap, making you straddle him. Subconsciously, you began to grind down onto him, feeling his hard cock through his pants. Letting out a strangled moan, he forcefully held your hips to prevent you from rubbing your slightly swollen, still glistening folds over his length. “We don’t have to go further, Y/n. Too much has been left unsaid. I just had to have a taste of you before you…”

“You still haven’t told me if you meant what you said.” You whispered, not at all feeling awkward still being the only one who wasn’t fully clothed. “You need to get better with your emotions.”

“I –” He choked out before looking away with tears in his eyes, causing your heart to clench. “How am I supposed to do this?”

“Don’t cry, Jimin.” You whispered, using the pad of your thumb to gently wipe away the small tear that fell. “Just tell me how you feel. I won’t judge you. You’ve never judged me, right? You stood by me when no one else would. I’ll never forget how much you helped me, despite not even knowing me.”

He slowly turned back to you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and holding you tightly. You felt silent sobs wreck through him, bringing forth tears to your own eyes; but you couldn’t cry, not when he needed someone, anyone, to be there for him. While allowing the sobs to die down and ignoring the sudden wetness on your neck, you stroked his hair soothingly, wondering when’s the last time anyone encouraged him to let out his emotions, encouraged him to cry. You didn’t rush him. You knew this was more than just him and you – it was Ezra, it was his lack of emotion and affection to everyone around him.

“I’m ready to listen whenever you’re willing to talk, okay?” You whispered, softly kissing the top of his head. The action caused him to immediately tighten his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. After a few moments, his croaky voice rang through the room.

“I feel like the worst father in the world.” He admitted through his tears, small sniffles leaving him. “I know I should be doing better, but how? I don’t know my own son, Y/N. You’ve barely moved in and you know more about him than me. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be affectionate.” He spat out the word, his tears drying on his cheeks.

“You seemed to know how to be affectionate with me…” You said quietly, pointing out how he had become so caring when there was a sexual element. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair.

“That’s different.” He admitted. “I know what you like, I know how to make you cum, I know the right things to say... That’s just sex. It’s easy for me to do all those things, but anything other than that…”

“Keep going, baby.” You encouraged, using a pet name to show him that you are listening.

“I’m confident enough in my body, but I’m not confident with my words.” He carefully explained, voice cracking slightly. Taking a shaky breath, he finally looked up into your eyes, finding comfort in them despite being scared, terrified even, of opening up like this. “I really like you, Y/N – oh my God, I sound like some teenager –”

Quickly pecking him on his lips, he fell quiet, mesmerized by the softness of your lips, if only for a second. “I like it when you sound like a teenager.” You replied, no teasing tilt to your voice as you looked at him with adoration.

“I can’t love you like anyone else can.” He admitted, still gazing into your eyes, seemingly unable to look away. “I don’t know how to, evidently because I’m already fucking divorced. But I can try. I can learn. You can teach me.” He breathed, saying everything rather quickly. “Please teach me. I can’t let you go. I need you. Ezra needs you.”

“Jimin,” You said carefully, trying not to sound too harsh. “I’m your assistant.”

“I don’t care.” He breathed, heart pounding through his chest. “You can move to another department if you want, but I need you in my life.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You whispered, having to think all the consequences through for the both of you. He frowned at the thought of not being able to work out your relationship.

“Then at least we tried.” He whispered back, his forehead leaning on your own. “But please give this a chance. I need you. I need this. Teach me how to love again.”

***

One year later

“Dad, I’m going to be late!” Ezra huffed, trying to move away from the hugs and kisses his father was trying to give him. Jimin elected to ignore him, kissing his forehead one more time, before Ezra ran to you, hiding behind you. “Y/N, please make him stop! Grandma’s waiting for me.”

“Why would I stop him when I want to do the same thing?” You laughed, picking him up and peppering his face with kisses. Jimin chuckled, gathering Ezra’s backpack, various toys and paint supplies, packing them neatly. Jimin’s mother had asked Ezra to accompany her for a short holiday to the countryside, which Ezra basically jumped at.

“Mommy, please!” He whined, making you freeze. He had never called you that, and by the silence echoing throughout the room, Jimin hadn’t expected it either. Before you could break the silence, Ezra gasped and ran over to his Grandmother, who had just walked through the open front door, hugging her tightly in greeting.

“I’m sorry for rushing you, but we really do need to get on the road.” She apologised, all of you standing outside as Jimin placed Ezra’s luggage in the trunk of his mother’s car.

A few minutes later, you and Jimin were waving goodbye to a retreating car. After seeing them safely off, Jimin snatched up your hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing it up to his lips. He still had an irrational fear of showing affection to you and Ezra when people were around, but when you were in your safe haven, he was the most affectionate person you’ve ever met.

“Mommy, huh?” He asked while smirking, using his free hand to bring your hips to his body. You smiled and blushed in response, shrugging as if it was nothing, but inside you were jumping for joy. He planted a kiss on your lips before leading you back inside, his hands squeezing your ass gently. “So, mommy and daddy are having some alone time this weekend…”

“Ezra didn’t call you daddy.” You laughed, walking into the kitchen to get a snack to eat.

“Yeah, but you did.” He replied, biting his lip as you gasped, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he brought up your hidden kink that you had accidentally let slip a few nights ago. He hadn’t brought it up until now, making you think that he hadn’t heard your whines as he had been too busy fucking you senseless.

“Park Jimin!” You chastised, swallowing hard as your hands barely grasped the ice cream pint you had gotten from the freezer. He raised an eyebrow at you, squaring his shoulders. “I didn’t think you heard me.” You admitted, blushing tomato red.

“Oh, don’t worry, I heard you loud and clear, baby girl.” He promised, pressing his bulge against you as you leaned on the large island in the middle of kitchen. His hands found purchase in your hair, roughly yanking it backwards so that your neck was exposed. He ran his lips all over your neck, biting the flesh, leaving dark red marks.

“Ezra is barely out the door and you’re already this horny?” You snarked, trying to hide your gasps as he sucked rather harshly on your pulse point.

“We haven’t been able to really fuck lately.” He shrugged, lifting you up on the cold granite surface and wrapping your legs around him. “Quickies aren’t as fun as being buried in this pussy for hours and hours on end, baby.”

“We have to go through that presentation – Jimin!”

“Where are your panties, huh?” He teased, his hand slipping under the hem of your skirt to knead your bare ass. “You’re acting like you don’t want my cock, but you aren’t even wearing anything to cover this pretty, little pussy.”

You didn’t reply, knowing that if you did a whimper would slip out of you, only adding to Jimin’s smugness. He ran his fingers along your folds, revelling in the way thick strands of your arousal clung to his fingers, essentially coating them in your arousal. You couldn’t take it anymore, the charade of not wanting him, so you threaded your fingers through his hair, using it to bring him to your mouth.

“Jimin, please…” You breathed, feeling his fingers dance around your clit. As you spoke, he froze, pulling away from your lips with his eyebrow raised.

“What did you just call me?” He asked sternly, his fingers retreating from your wet cunt, only to come down hard on your clit, the slapping sound echoing throughout the kitchen. “You need to be more respectful, you little brat.”

“Daddy…” You corrected, voice still barely above a whisper. “Daddy, please.”

He slapped your pussy again, ensuring that whimpers left your lips. Your arousal coated his fingers, the sticky substance making his skin glint in the light.

“Look at what a mess you’ve made, baby girl.” Jimin murmured, inspecting his shining fingers before looking you right in the eye and slipping one in his mouth. The sight alone was enough to release another gush of arousal out of you, some of your juices now coating your thighs. “Fuck, you taste good.” He groaned, sucking on his finger. He glanced up at you, his eyes showing just how smug he is. “Want to have a taste?”

Without waiting for a reply, he placed his fingers in your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as you sucked his fingers clean. Maintaining eye contact with him, you swirled your tongue around his digits, licking him clean.

“Like that?” He asked, eyes dark with need. With his finger still in your mouth, you nodded, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “What do you want now, baby?”

“Daddy’s cock.” You instantaneously replied, almost quivering with need. He smirked, allowing you to grind into his bulge, trying to desperately get any source of friction.

“And what do you want to do with Daddy’s cock?”

“Suck it.” You answered, mouth salivating at the mere thought of it. “I want to suck it and taste Daddy’s cum.”

“Then why aren’t you on your knees?”

Wordlessly, you hopped off of the counter, knees harshly hitting the floor, yet you couldn’t care less. Your hands messily unbuckled Jimin’s belt, precariously shoving his jeans and boxers down his muscular thighs before you began to palm him in your hand.

“Don’t fucking tease me.” He groaned, voice deep and laced with seduction. “I still have half a mind of punishing you for being disrespectful, baby.”

Not wanting to get punished – well, at least for now – you slipped him into your mouth, sucking gently on his tip while maintaining eye contact. You gave it a few kitten licks, sucking off his precum, you run the flat of your tongue on the underside of his cock, making him grip your hair. His eyes hardened as he knew you were still teasing him, so he used his grip on your hair to push you all the way down to the hilt, making you take every inch of his cock down your throat.

“Ah, fuck yeah, baby.” He moaned, feeling your throat muscles expand and contract as it tried to swallow all of him. Tears sprung to your eyes, the lack of oxygen evident, but it only made Jimin chuckle. “Who fucking told you to tease me, huh? You wanted my cock in your mouth, baby. Now take. It. All.”

He punctuated every word with a thrust, increasing the tears in your eyes as well as the spit leaking out the side of your mouth. You loved it when Jimin made you take all of him, and it was evident as your arousal had slickened your thighs even more. He eventually took pity on you, pulling you off his dick as you gasped for air, your tears now streaming in rivulets down your face.

Allowing your lungs the chance to get air, you begun using your hands to jack him off, your spittle and his precum acting as lubricant. You stared up at him as his face relaxed with pleasure, head thrown back as your hands continuously pumped his length. Eventually, when your lungs had recovered, you put him back into your mouth, bobbing your head on the parts that you could reach without choking. With your hands fondling his balls, and your hollowed-out cheeks repeatedly sucking on him, he quickly met his end.

Grabbing your hair, he once again pushed you right up against his pubic bone and shot his cum right down your throat. High pitched, melodious moans reached your ears as his orgasm hit him. The salty, tangy taste of his cum coated your taste buds, the taste alone making you clench your thighs.

After the rush of his climax was over, you came off his dick with a ‘pop’, nuzzling your head into his thigh, clearly looking for praise. With his chest still heaving, he looked down at you, affection blooming in his eyes.

“You always suck Daddy’s cock so well, baby.” He murmured, helping you to your feet, bringing your lips to his own. “Such a good girl, hmm? Does my baby want a reward?”

“Swallowing your cum was my reward.” You breathed, still revelling in the feeling of having him fall apart in your mouth. He smirked, enjoying how submissive and God damn fuckable you were. His hand slipped around your throat, squeezing the sides gently, while his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“Run up to our room. By the time I get there, I want you to be naked and laying on the bed for Daddy. Got it?”

Nodding, you felt excitement bloom deep in your chest, knowing that you were truly about to be rewarded. Once he let go of your throat, you all but ran up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to please Jimin. You stripped out of your skirt and stockings before you even made it to the bed, throwing them haphazardly over your shoulder, then you began to unbutton your blouse, peeling off your bra in the process.

Waiting with bated breath, you found yourself squirming with impatience on the cool, silky sheets. Right before you could huff out with irritation, Jimin made his appearance in all his glory. His own shirt was nowhere to be found, and his jeans hung low on his hips, giving you quite a view of his abs and defined v-line.

He paid you no mind, walking over to the closet to rummage around in the drawers. He came back a few moments later with a pair of handcuffs and nipple clamps, as well as something shoved in his back pocket. You quivered at the thought of him tying you up; despite the amount of times it had happened, it still brought an insane amount of adrenaline to your bloodstream.

“Good girl…” He trailed off as he took in your naked body, feeling his cock stir again. The silence in the room faded as he slipped the cuffs around your wrists, then fastened it to the headboard so that your arms were stretched above you, pushing your breasts up into the air. Using this to his advantage, he immediately snapped the clamps onto your nipples, the soft silicone doing little to soften the blow of the pinch.

A hiss left your lips when he tugged on the chain, accentuating the pain that claimed your nipples. He tugged on it again, gauging your reaction, and smirking when you whimpered.

“Does it hurt, baby?” He asked as he kissed your neck, sucking red blotches onto your skin. You nodded in response, causing him to smirk even further. “But you like it, don’t you? Daddy’s baby girl enjoys the pain.”

Before you could respond to him, his lips claimed yours, quickly claiming every breath you had. After a year of being together, Jimin’s lips knew exactly how to move with your own, not to fast nor to slow. His tongue swiped your bottom lip, slowly snaking its way to your own, where it massaged it gently.

In the midst of his lips ravishing your own, his hand slipped into his back pocket, retrieving a clit massager. Without breaking the kiss, he slipped his hand in-between your legs, prying them apart so that he could place the toy right above your clit.

As soon as he turned on the toy, the gentle sucking caused you to moan into his mouth. Continuing to move his tongue in tandem with yours, Jimin slowly began to circle the head of your toy around your clit, getting maddeningly close to the bundle of nerves but never actually touching it.

“Daddy…” You whined, wiggling your hips so that he could place the toy directly on your clit. “Stop teasing!”

“Weren’t you just teasing me when we were in the kitchen?” He cockily asked, once again circling your clit with the toy. “Remember, baby? When you weren’t giving me what I wanted?”

“But you came!” Your argued, voice slowly becoming whinier as your stomach began to clench uncomfortably in anticipation. “I want to cum too, Daddy. Please!”

“You want to come?” Jimin asked, amused at the way your hips were trying to angle themselves to get the stimulation directly on your clit. You nodded, arms straining against the handcuffs. “Why don’t you stop chasing the toy then, huh? Why don’t you be a good girl for Daddy?”

“I am a good girl – ah!”

Your sentence was cut short by Jimin placing the toy right on your clit, turning the toy to its highest setting. A plethora of moans left your lips as the suction steadily grew and grew, simulating someone sucking on your clit.

“Daddy…” You moaned weakly, the pleasure making your brain fuzzy. With the suction directly on your clit, your orgasm loomed over you, driving any other thought out of your head. Needing something to set you off, you began to buck your hips into the toy, moaning and whimpering softly. “Please let me cum, Daddy… Please…”

“You can, baby.” He cooed into your ear, mesmerized with the way your body was lifting off of the bed to claim your orgasm. He quickly tugged on the nipple clamps, knowing that a tiny bit of pain would increase your pleasure tenfold. “Such a good little girl for Daddy, yeah? Always to ready to beg.”

With a yelp, your climax washed over you, turning your bones to nothing and transporting your head to cloud nine. You trembled lightly on the bed, sending a rush of blood back to Jimin’s cock and making him impossibly hard. He watched with bated breath as your chest rose and fell rapidly, the nipple clamps jingling with your actions, a visual indicator of the amount of pleasure your body was facing. Once your orgasm receded, he quickly turned off the toy and replaced it with his mouth, swallowing your cum and treating it almost with reverence.

“Daddy.” You croaked, voice almost gone due to the number of moans and whines that had left your throat just a few moments ago. Even though you had just experienced one of the best orgasms of your life, you wanted more – you wanted him. “Want you.”

“Are you sure you can handle another one, Y/N?” He asked seriously, not wanting to push you further than you could physically go. You nodded excitedly, pulling on the handcuffs to show how ready you were. He chuckled at your eagerness, taking off the clamps off of your nipples. They were puffy and sore, but your breasts welcomed the blood flow.

“Please fuck me.” You whispered, your cunt already clenching at the thought of being filled by Jimin’s cock. He smiled at you, his beauty taking your breath away as he stripped out of his jeans and boxers. His cock was already rock hard as it leaked pre-cum, the substance beading at the tip of his dusky pink head.

“Want my cock, baby?” He asked, positioning himself in-between your legs. You tried to reach out to him, wanting to align his dick at your entrance and watch how he pushed into your core, but the restraints that bound your wrists prevented that. That didn’t stop you from continuously tugging on the cuffs, the metal rattling against the bed post. “Keep acting like a little brat and I’ll leave you here the entire day.”

His threat immediately caused you to cease your actions, wanting nothing more than to feel him in you. Hearing the absence of you pulling on the restraints made him smirk up at you, knowing that you would probably do anything to have him in your cunt right now.

“So obedient.” He mused, leaning back and stroking his length to rile you up. “My baby will do anything for my cock, hmm? Such a dirty fucking slut for my cock.”

“Only for you, Daddy.” You promised, your breathing erratic due to seeing Jimin’s hand enclosed over his dick, lazily fisting the length. “Please fuck me. I need your cock in me.” He raised an eyebrow at you, still wanting to tease you despite being painfully hard. Your pussy clenched when he threw his head back in pleasure, fist pumping up and down his cock. “Jimin, please!”

“Is that how you talk to me?” He snapped, sliding his length into you as his hand tightened around your neck. Without giving you time to adjust to suddenly having his entire cock in you, he began to piston out of you, the sound of skin on skin echoing throughout the room. Your eyes rolled back from the pleasure, the feeling of having his cock force open your walls and the feeling of his hand tightening around your neck making you lose all train of thought. “Answer me, you fucking brat!”

“Daddy!” You corrected; voice hoarse from being choked. His hand left your neck, instead using his hands to hold your hips at an angle so that he could go deeper. “I – I’m sorry, Daddy!”

Hot tears of pleasure ran down your face, the droplets falling to your chest. “You’re crying?” He scoffed, somehow making his hips rut into you faster, your tits moving from each powerful thrust. “Is my cock too much for you to handle?” He asked, thumbing your clit, bringing more tears of pleasure to your face. You shook your head at his question, showing him just how well you could take his dick. “Hmm, good girl. Such a good slut for my cock, huh? Take it all, baby. Take every fucking inch of me in this tight pussy.”

“Going to… Gonna cum.” You whimpered, feeling your pleasure reaching a precipice quickly. He groaned as he felt your walls hug his length even tighter due to your impending orgasm. His thumb continued to work quick, tight circles over your clit, the white-hot pleasure surging through your veins and setting off your climax. “Daddy!”

“Ah, fuck, Y/N!” Jimin moaned, your convulsing cunt bringing about his own orgasm. Your body arched off of the bed once again, your orgasm seemingly too intense for your body to handle. Your thighs trembled and a heat rushed up to your cheeks, sweat gleaming on your body. Jimin’s cock was coated in your cum, the sheer feeling of it causing him to shoot his hot cum deep in you. High pitched curses and moans left his plump lips, ropes of his cum coating your walls as both of you tried to control your heavy breathing.

Without pulling out of you, Jimin reached up and unlocked the handcuffs, throwing them onto the floor to join your long-forgotten clothes. Flipping you over so that you were laying on him, he kissed your raw wrists gently, despite both of your chests still heaving.

“Thank you, baby.” He murmured, kissing your forehead. “I’m sorry if I was too rough.”

“You were amazing, Jimin.” You said softly, enjoying the feeling of having his skin directly on your own. “I wouldn’t want this with anyone other than you.”

“I love you.” He blurted, unable to contain his feelings any longer. You sucked in a breath, not believing your own ears. It was the first time he had ever said something like this. “I know it’s been a journey and a half with me, teaching me how not to be some cold asshole, but God damn, I love you, Y/N. I can’t imagine a life without you; I don’t want to imagine a live without you.”

“I love you too, Jimin.” You replied, a smile creeping on your face as your heart fluttered. “I love you more than you will ever know.”

***

↳ a/n: so that was the first instalment of my colour series! I plan on doing a one shot for each member based on meanings of a specific colour. Please let me know what you think and let me know if you want to be tagged in the future one shots :)

#jimin smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts #jimin x reader #park jimin #au #bts fan fiction #bts imagines #smut

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luxekook · 4 years

Text

chapter nine.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 4.6k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic energy, nerd jokes, increasing difficulty navigating new poly relationship, mention of previous unhealthy relationship [manipulation, deceit], more angst than usual, mention of violent intent, smut [dom/sub themes, mention of voyeurism and the Kama Sutra, fingering, jin is thirsty, mention of oral, things get ~hot~ in the kitchen and i ain’t talkin’ about the pancakes (although those do get burned)]

I wish I could say I woke up to the sound of birds chirping in the brisk morning air. But, instead, I’m jolted awake by the sound of what seems to be an entire fleet of pots and pans falling to the ground followed by an incoherent scream.

Shifting slightly as my heartbeat tries to settle itself, I realize that Yoongi is curled up around me, still sound asleep. I guess it makes sense; he’s used to living in a frat house. A stampede of elephants outside his window probably could not wake him.

Gently, I shimmy my way out of Yoongi’s hold. He mutters some garbled nonsense that sounds like “give me back my plushie”, but I can’t be sure. If no one else is going to wake up to check on whatever is going down in the kitchen, I will.

The room is cold outside of Yoongi’s embrace. Shivering, I quickly tug off Hobi’s shirt and switch it with the pink fluffy sweatshirt that I suspect belongs to Jin. Much better, I think, as the softness of the fabric surrounds me from the tips of my fingers to the tops of my knees.

After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I quietly head down to the kitchen. I am so unprepared for the sight I’m suddenly faced with.

Kim Seokjin stands facing away from me while flipping pancakes and humming an unidentifiable melody. He is shirtless. The expanse of back that I’m faced with has me stopped in my tracks, gaping at the smoothness of his tanned skin. It’s only after a few moments that I realize he has what seems to be an apron tied at his neck and his waist.

“Good morning, Jin,” I greet him when my ability to speak returns. I move closer towards him with the intentions of wrapping my arms around him and snuggling into the broad expanse of his shoulders.

My intent fails as Jin shrieks and spins to face me. His arms flap wildly in the air and the spatula in his hand launches a pancake right towards me. By the grace of god, I manage to catch the flying pancake and take a bite.

“Mmm!” I ignore his continued display of fright as I indulge in the deliciousness that is breakfast food, “This is so good, Jinie.”

Finally recovering after 84 years of being extra, Jin pouts, “Of course it’s good. I made it!” He huffs, crossing his arms across his chest. I watch enraptured as his biceps flex. He really is too good looking. Jin continues, “And why did you have to scare me like that? My poor, handsome soul almost left my body, (y/n)!”

“Oh, no,” I purr, moving towards him. “What can I do to make you forgive me?”

He blinks, seeming to take me in for the first time. His warm brown eyes turn molten as they take in the sight of his sweatshirt on my body. Slowly, his arms uncross and extend towards me.

And that’s when I see it.

“Your apron does not say “Chef’s Kiss” with an arrow pointing up,” I slap his hands away and grab the front of his apron to bring him closer.

“Of course it does,” Jin grins, “Look at these lips, babe. They are completely ‘chef’s kiss’, and they also give exceptional chef’s kisses… Would you like one?”

“Unfortunately,” I mumble and then lunge for his mouth. His hands grip my hips, hiking up the sweatshirt to dig into the flesh of my ass.

Meanwhile, I’m in heaven, running my own hands down his back. I rake my fingernails gently down and revel in the shudder that moves through him.

“Babe,” Jin whines into my mouth, “I’m going to burn the pancakes.”

“Bold of you to assume they aren’t already burnt,” I reply, glancing over his shoulder at the smoking pancakes.

“Fuck!” Jin yelps, leaping out of my hold. Quickly turning off the heat, he shoots me an amused glare, “You distracted me!”

I laugh, “Are you saying you didn’t like it?”

He pauses, “No, but it’s not fair how you can waltz down here looking like that in my shirt when we all heard you last night!”

My eyebrows shoot up. They all had heard me and Yoongi? Why hadn’t they said anything? Honestly, I didn’t think we had been that loud, but maybe Yoongi had made me more vocal than usual with his talented mouth.

The more I think about it, the hotter it is to picture the six of them all pressed against the wall, straining to hear the moans as they had left my mouth as Yoongi’s tongue had slid inside me.

“You all heard what?” I move towards him slowly as he cowers slightly against the counter, “Tell me.”

“W-we,” Jin’s voice breaks and he swallows, “We heard you moaning and talking dirty to Yoongi. It was so fucking hot, baby. Some of us wanted to barge in, but Joon wouldn’t let us. God, it made me so hard listening to you come.”

The heat of his words blazes over my skin. “Did you touch yourself thinking about it, Jin?” I cock my head to the side as I teasingly gaze up at him. My hands slowly untie the apron from around his torso.

“No,” Jin shook his head as my hands ghosted across his now-bare chest, “Hobi sucked me off.”

Damn, that visual would fuel my own fantasies for weeks. “And did that help?” I ask as my hand dips lower, brushing over the growing bulge in his sweats.

“For like two seconds,” He sighs as my palm slightly puts pressure on the place he needs it most, “We were too turned on by the thought of getting to touch you, to taste you… No matter what we did, it couldn’t erase the picture our minds conjured up.”

“You want to touch me, Seokjin?” I place a kiss on his neck, “I won’t stop you.”

“(Y/n), baby,” Jin’s hands clench at his sides, “I want to touch you everywhere. I feel like you know that, but I just need to make sure that you do.”

A smirk slides across my face, “I had a feeling you did, so feel away, my young padawan.”

Jin shakes his head in mock disappointment, “First, I am your elder. Second, please, I’m begging you. Don’t bring Star Wars into this.”

I grin and lean closer to him, “So, you don’t want to invade my rebel base with your star destroyer?”

Jin lets out a squeaky laugh, “(Y/n)!” There is just something about Kim Seokjin that makes me go feral - even at the ass crack of dawn. He stares down at me with his pink flushed cheeks and his rosy red lips and his bewildered but affectionate expression.

I have no choice but to swing my arms around his neck and kiss the shit out of him for the second time that morning. This time, it gets hot right away.

With my previous go-ahead, Jin’s hands wind their way once again up my hips. They, however, do not stop to grab my ass this time. Instead, one hand remains steady on my hip, and the other hooks under my underwear.

The first stroke of his finger is tentative, almost like he is afraid I might crumble under his touch. But, I’m too much for that. “Jin,” I bite his lip and tug gently before releasing it, “Fuck me with your fingers.”

A rumble moves up his chest as he obeys, pushing a finger deep inside me. “Damn, baby,” He curses and begins to move his finger in and out of my pussy, “You feel so good, so fucking wet.”

I’m in heaven as Jin adds another finger, pushing both in and out of me while his thumb flicks over my clit every so often. His movements are precise, his fingers sliding over that spot inside me with ease. I send an unspoken thank you to all the girls that (literally) came before me and that led Jin to know the female anatomy so intimately.

Losing myself in the building bliss, I run my nails down the expanse of Jin’s broad shoulders. It is, after all, free real estate.

Jin moans into my mouth as I continue to gently tease him with my fingertips, intermittently switching between light touches and harder drags. Taking advantage of his open mouth, I twine my tongue with his and then suck on it lightly.

“(Y/n),” Jin groans, his fingers slowing their thrusts, “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Yes,” I nod, “That should have been obvious. Now, make me come, and I might end your punishment early.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is,” Jin offers me a shit-eating smile, “Well, if all your punishments consist of me being knuckle-deep in your pussy, sign me up for an unlimited membership to your dungeon.”

I slap his ass hard. Ignoring his yelp, I repeat the motion and grin when his hips reflexively thrust forward, his hardness pressing up against me. “Oh, does my baby like that?” I murmur, rubbing his ass to ease the sting.

Jin’s head drops to rest on my shoulder, his face pressed into my neck. I vaguely feel him nod before his fingers begin to thrust in and out of me harder than they had before.

My hand winds up to thread my fingers through his hair. I tug him closer to me as Jin’s pillowy lips kiss and nibble at my neck. His hand that previously had been resting on my hip slides up to palm my breast, squeezing it lightly.

My head falls back as my orgasm builds. His fingers continue to pound into me as he rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck, Jin,” I moan, “I’m so close. Make me come all over you.”

My words seem to have their desired effect on Jin as his fingers curl inside me, his thumb circling my clit, his hand squeezing my breast. I come hard, my hips grinding down on his hand shamelessly.

“Yes, baby,” Jin smiles into the crevice of my neck, “Give it to me. Give me all–” He gets cut off by a third party before he can finish.

“God almighty… Really, you two? Again?” Jin and I blink owlishly at Namjoon as he pads into the kitchen. He looks like he can’t decide whether to be pissed or to be amused by what Jin and I must look like.

Jin slips his hand out of me and holds it up in the air with the other, “It isn’t what it looks like, Joon!” However, he ruins his lie not a second later when he notices his fingers are coated in my wetness and immediately shoves them into his mouth.

Namjoon sighs, massaging his temples and looking like he had given up. I just shake my head at Jin as the boy licks his fingers clean, “Kim Seokjin, you’re incorrigible.”

“You love it,” Jin boasts; and, unfortunately, he is correct. He continues, “Now, let me drink straight from the source.”

“She’s not fucking Fiji water, Jin!” Namjoon rolls his eyes, pushing past Jin to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Of course not,” Jin’s eyes twinkle mischievously, “(Y/n)’s not that pure.”

I crack up and thrust my hand out to meet Jin’s in a high-five. He laughs along with me, lacing his fingers through mine and bringing my hand close so he can brush a light kiss on my knuckles.

“I really should finish breakfast before the rest of the herd arrives,” Jin murmurs, tugging me to his chest and placing a kiss on my head. I melt into his arms at his sweetness. “Now, go say ‘good morning’ to Joon.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” I laugh, pouting up at him, “I’ll say ‘good morning’ to Joon because that’s my choice.”

Seokjin shakes his head, his lips pursed in a small smile, “You’re really something, aren’t you…”

I don’t have time to ponder that statement before I’m whisked away by two hands circling my waist, pulling me to another firm chest. “You took too long,” Namjoon murmurs into my hair.

He is all pressed up against me, his arms around my waist. There’s just something about Namjoon that feels safe and comforting. I shift around so that I can snuggle further into his chest. “Good morning,” I breathe him in. He smells really fucking good, like expensive whisky and pine trees.

“Sleep well?” I can hear the playful lilt in Namjoon’s voice.

I pull back slightly, narrowing my eyes up to meet Namjoon’s amused dark ones, “Yes, Yoongi took great care of me, as I’m sure you heard.”

Jin chortles from over by the stove where he flips a perfectly golden brown pancake in the air.

Namjoon grins outright at my sass, “Baby, you weren’t exactly quiet in ordering him around.”

“You could have joined at any point,” I shrug, “I would have ordered you around, too.”

“Me?” Namjoon chuckles darkly, “I would like to see you try.”

“You would, wouldn’t you?” I murmur, running my hands down his chest to rest right above the hem of his shorts. “Big, bad Kim Namjoon: college senior, fraternity president… You must have so many responsibilities.” I place a hot kiss on his neck, “It’s only natural that you want to take a break, to let me take care of you.”

Namjoon actually seems to be considering it as I continue to kiss up his neck to come to a halt a breath from his plush lips. “I can’t say I’m not tempted,” Namjoon rasps out, his eyes flickering between my eyes and my lips.

“Obviously,” I roll my eyes, “I’m basically saying I’ll get you off. Of course you’re tempted.”

Joon’s hand slaps my ass, and it sends a rush of pleasure through me after having come so hard on Jin’s fingers. “There’s that wicked mouth again,” Joon says lowly, his thumb presses against my lips, “I wonder what it will look like around my—”

“Wow, Jiminie! I didn't know we were going to get breakfast and a show this morning!” Taehyung barges into the kitchen with Jimin trailing behind him, his face puffy with sleep. I wink at Joon before nipping slightly at his thumb and pulling away from him.

The second I’m out of Joon’s hold, I have two more boys hugging me on either side. Jimin is basically hanging onto me for dear life, his face shoved in my neck - a position that seems to be his favorite. Meanwhile, Taehyung is peppering my cheek with kisses and grinning down at me.

“Well, someone sure is a morning person,” I mumble, trying my best to show affection to both boys at once.

“How could I not be a morning person when I wake up and get to see you?” Taehyung beams at me. Jimin grumbles at Tae’s cheesiness, nuzzling his nose into my neck. I blink, wondering if I would need sunglasses around both Tae and Hobi now.

Speaking of, the other boys trail into the kitchen one by one - drawn in by the growing aroma of breakfast. Hobi looks adorably disheveled and pouts when he notices I changed out of his shirt. Somehow managing to extract myself from the two inseparable boys that clung to me, I ruffle Hobi’s hair and kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Hoseok,” I smile at my sunshine, “How did you sleep?”

He hugs me tightly as he seems to still be half asleep, “I slept great, but would have slept better with you in my arms.” His mumbled words are barely audible, but I catch them.

“Maybe next time,” I rub his back soothingly, “But I do seem to have quite a queue.”

And I didn’t even mean just for sleeping, I mean literally right now as I look over Jungkook and Yoongi standing in single file behind where I have Hobi wrapped in my arms. Jimin is also trying and failing to stealthily get back in line for another hug from me.

Hobi looks over his shoulder and scowls at the other boys, “Get lost, losers. This one’s mine.”

I burst out laughing, “Jung Hoseok! I didn't know we were exclusive. This is such news.”

My words are meant as a joke, but the room quiets after they fall from my lips. Blinking, I slowly break away from Hoseok to take a glance around at the seven of them. The boys all seem to be communicating solely through eye contact.

“Okay,” I put my hands on my hips, “I don’t speak silent e-boy. What’s going on?”

“What’s an e-boy?” Jungkook whispers to Yoongi who just shakes his head sadly, knowing full well that the youngest was peak e-boy.

“Well?” I narrow my gaze on the weakest link. Taehyung is practically vibrating and looks ready to cave at any moment. “Oh, Taehyungie,” I sing, my voice deceptively soft, “Please, won’t you tell your noona what’s happening?”

“We all want to be exclusive!” Taehyung bursts out immediately, drawing glares and groans from the other six boys.

“Goddamnit, Tae!” Jin yells, “We were going to make it nice!”

“Fuck off, Jin-hyung!” Taehyung fires back, “It’s not my fault! She was looking at me like she wanted to eat me!”

As the two bicker back and forth, I look around at the rest of them. Jungkook is staring at me anxiously, his hands wring together in front of him. It’s almost as if he fears I might disappear if he looks away.

Jimin has his arm linked through Jungkook’s, ever the opportunist for skinship. He nibbles his lower lip as he looks at me with blatant hope and a touch of nervousness.

Yoongi slouches against the kitchen counter, his sharp eyes watching me closely. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip, and I just know he’s thinking about last night…

Hobi still stands beside me, gazing down at me with intense interest. His pinky hooks onto my own, and I almost melt at the cuteness of it.

Finally, my eyes land on Namjoon. His arms are folded as he stares me down from his deceptively lazy recline against the kitchen island. I know better. Nothing about Namjoon is ever lazy.

“Interesting,” I finally hedge, making my way over to the kitchen table to sit down, “So you’re saying I would need to break it off with the rest of my harems? Damn, I was starting to really like EXO…”

“Noona,” Jungkook whines, “We’re being serious!”

The rest of the boys - minus Jin - follow my lead, sitting down around me at the table. The oldest sets down a tray with an overwhelmingly tall stack of pancakes. The table had already been set with plates and silverware and any topping that one could want on their pancakes - including some questionable options. Is that hot sauce I see over there?

I wait for Jin to settle before I address them. “Okay, sorry, sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism of choice, sue me. So what does this whole exclusivity proposition entail?”

“It’s not a proposition,” Jimin pouts, “It’s a proposal.” He must catch the glint in my eye because he cuts me off before I can make a joke, “Don’t even say it, (y/n).”

I zip my lips and pretend to throw the key over my shoulder. However, my Jinie doesn’t let me down.

Jin grabs a pancake with his bare hands and walks over to me. Getting down on one knee, he extends the pancake towards me with a flourish. “(Y/n),” He booms, “Will you accept this pancake as a symbol of our delicious and wholesome intent to court you? Will you give us the distinct honor of dating only you - and you only dating us?”

I purse my lips, attempting to hide my pleased smile, and fail. Pretending to summon the imaginary key from where I threw it earlier, I unzip my lips, steadfastly ignoring the collective groan over me and Jin’s dramatics. “Well,” I reply, “I can’t say no to pancakes.”

“Ha!” Jin yells in triumph, jumping up to address the rest of the relieved boys, “Bow down, you fools. I saved the day!”

“You didn’t save shit, Jin,” Yoongi shakes his head, “(Y/n) probably already figured this was going to come up and thought it over beforehand.”

“You ain’t wrong,” I nod, biting into the pancake my acceptance had earned me. “Why do you think I let y’all touch me so much over the past 24 hours?”

“We didn’t want to jinx it, noona,” Jungkook stares at me with stars in his eyes, “I’m so happy I get to date you now. We’re going to have so much fun! Oh, I need to make a list of all the things I want to do with you!”

“Just read the Kama Sutra, JK,” Hobi interjects with an innocent smile. My jaw practically hits the floor.

My sweet Hobi? Mentioning the sex bible? In this economy? Under this roof?

Jungkook turns a pretty shade of red, “That’s not what I meant, hyung!”

I finally recover, never one to pass up an opportunity to tease my baby boy. “You can borrow my copy, Jungkookie. It’s very informative.”

Jungkook yelps, “(Y/n)-noona!” He shoves his face into Namjoon’s shoulder in an attempt to hide. The older boy just smiles and pats Jungkook’s head gently.

“Okay, so how is this going to work?” I ask, thinking about the logistics of the situation. I had been in a few relationships before, and those had required a lot of communication with just two people involved. This is a whole different level with eight of us.

Would we all go out together all the time? Would I have separate dates with each of them? Would they still have dates without me? Would they be more open with me about their own relationship with each other? Would they still fuck each other without me? Would I fuck them separately? Would we eventually all fuck? Together?

“We’ll still keep it private,” Namjoon shrugs, “Just like our relationship has always been but with you added.”

My stomach drops. I hadn't considered this. In all my hypothetical scenarios thought out in the wee hours of the morning, it had never occurred to me that they wouldn't want to be public with me. Perhaps that had been stupid of me. Perhaps I had been too caught up in the thrill of it all.

It seems my silence speaks volumes as the boys exchange worried glances. Taehyung grips my hand tightly, pleading, “Noona, you understand that, right? Please, say something.”

“I-I guess I don’t understand fully,” I manage to blurt out. “The seven of you are well-known and loved across campus. Do you really think that going public would affect that?”

“It’s not just campus. It’s our families, our friends, our futures that we are concerned about,” Yoongi answers, “We’re scared that we’ll jeopardize everything we’ve worked so hard for.”

“Just because you love more than one person?” I furrow my eyebrows, “Yes, it’s unconventional, but it’s still just love. How can anyone be mad at that?”

The boys are quiet.

“There used to be eight of us,” Namjoon sighs after a short while, “When me, Jin, Yoongi, and Hobi were beginning college and Jimin, Tae and Jungkook were finishing up their senior year, we still had her.”

“Nikki,” Hoseok whispers, “I thought we weren’t going to talk about her anymore?”

“No,” Jin shakes his head, “(Y/n) deserves to know this.” He nods at Namjoon to continue.

“We grew up with her, too.” Joon frowns, “She was one of us. She said she loved us - all of us. But, it turns out she didn’t.”

“Nikki tried to separate us.” My heart breaks as a tear slides down Jimin’s cheek. “She told me that none of the boys loved me - that only she did,” Jimin’s voice cracks. Taehyung is quick to hug Jimin close to him.

“Luckily, Jimin came to us with his doubts before doing anything,” Yoongi scowls, “I don’t think I had ever been so angry.”

“We confronted her when we were all home on break,” Jin’s hands are clenched in fists, “She tried to deny everything, saying that Jimin made things up. But we knew she was lying by how upset Jimin was, and by how increasingly desperate her excuses became.”

“Finally, she admitted it,” Namjoon shakes his head, “And then she said a whole lot of other things that hurt along with a bunch of threats to expose us.”

Okay, who is this girl? If I ever met her, I would not hesitate to go for the knees.

“She hasn't followed through with anything,” Yoongi scoffs, “But she goes here now, and we haven’t had the courage to risk anything.”

“She goes here?” My tone is ice cold as I slowly stand up, “What’s her address?”

“Noona!” Jungkook chokes out a laugh, “No! Sit down.”

I huff, plopping down in my seat and folding my arms, “If I ever meet a girl named Nikki, it’s on sight. How dare she?”

It seems the madder I become, the more amused the boys get. I eye them angrily, “Why are you all smiling at me? I’m serious! Manipulation? Threats? That is not okay, especially when it's done to you.”

The seven of them are grinning outright now. “Will you stop leering at me? I’m about to flip this university upside down to avenge y’all, and you’re just smiling?”

Jimin beams over at me, his eyes still watery. “(Y/n)-noona,” He preens, “You really do like us, don’t you?”

“She’s so protective of us already,” Taehyung smirks.

“Forget Iron Man,” Jungkook giggles, “We have Iron Noona.”

I groan, placing my head in my hands, “Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Idiots that you li-i-ike,” Jin sings. How is he even the oldest?

“I guess that makes me the biggest idiot of all,” I mutter before straightening to address them fully. “Alright, I can see where you are coming from now. Thank you for trusting me enough to share that with me. I guess we can keep things private for now, but I only ask that we can revisit this later. I’ve already accepted that people would not understand the nature of our relationship, but I know that I have too much love to give you all to care. Now, I just need you to feel that, too. I want to show you that you can trust me with more than just your secrets but with your full selves.”

The boys are quiet for a moment before Jimin loudly pushes his chair back and practically launches himself into my lap. His shoulders shake. “Oh, baby,” I whisper as I rub my hand in soothing circles across his back.

“Thank you, noona,” Jimin’s voice is small but sincere.

“Don’t thank me for something that you deserve and have always deserved.”

Jimin doesn't answer, simply nodding into my neck. I take that as a start.

Returning my gaze to the rest of them, I smile, “Okay, like I said, we keep it private - at least at first. What else should I know about this relationship I’m getting into? Does Taehyung have a time-out corner that y’all send him to? Does Jin have a limit to how many bad jokes he can deliver in one day? Does Yoongi have a mandatory amount of hours he needs to spend out of bed?”

Two out of the three boys that I just named let out yells of indignation. The third just rolls his eyes.

The rest of the boys laugh, and I know that things will be okay.

And I’m right - at least for a little while.

a/n: hope y’all enjoyed,,,, the drama is heatin’ up hehe

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cage7241 @cvbachacbitch @honeyspillings @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang @oii-f-eli-x2 @joonsroses @theevilyouknow @jooniescupcakes @expensive-grl @i-dont-even-know-fck @athletes-of-god@doingmybestalltheftime @elraee @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh @laced-brds @breeeeh17 @peachyharmoney @rilakoya @chulchuchi @tabula-rasa0 @guccishookv @nomimits7 @i-like-puppy-mg @s-noir @anna-sorel @im-a-space-child @yeontanismypresident @drowning-in-oxygen @team-wang-puppy @lvvegood @anongirl007 @may114 @r-e-d-i-s-h @unatempesta-dipensieri @dragon-rider-with-a-book @blueberrygeniejam @wondrsblog @vi-hoshi @kirbykook @katemwatson @kawaiikpoplover268 @amsteramyy @sami4life @a-feeling-of-euphoria @the-jackals @bubbletae7 @platinum-grenade @kthstrawberryshortcake @brightly-byun @oofmeintheheadpls @sadboibts @lidda @goldenwidow3 @t-mel19 @lmkjimin @psiphidragon @jeon-joker @sathom013 @lustremyg @ggsmashgg @justyouraveragerando @shadowstark @our-little-meow-meow @baby-hobii @mythicalmeep @asifetch7 @kassandravictoria @eltrain80 @briannasthings @bumblekey93 @ohmwreckr @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @softchimmee @kookoo-kachoo @lenuminous @ass-hole-in-one @peaches-422 @spacejooon @sleepyje0n @uxwi @tellmeyoulovemepls @yady24 @lovesick-heart0 @redirect-min @hopetookourvibe @noonaduck @mini-coop25 @multifandomgirl29 @rhd31 @yoongixvevo @sweetnspicy93 @kuppyjiminie @love-and-other-possibilities @fuckyouandtheboatyoucamein @geminidrawsstuff @livorna @naajix @minjoonhome @subtlepjiminie @mono-kookie @purpleheartsfortae @krystle1990 @jungkooks-nut-is-tasty-in-busan @sky-the-squirrel @jinyounglovebot @vivpurple7 @xcastielbabyangelface @patpus @daydreamingwithbts @potaetertot @moon-2seok @midnight1199

another a/n: if u asked to be added to the taglist and u did not get tagged, u might be one of the couple ppl that i couldn’t tag [check ur settings, fam!]

#bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #hyunglinenetwork #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #btsnoonanet #ksmutclub #bts #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fic #ot7 #ot7 x reader #poly bts #bts series #kings of campus

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blueprint-han · 4 years

Text

a musical encounter.

pairing: music major senior!han x music major junior!reader

genre: university (?? idk) au; fluff.

⇥ warnings: very terribly™ written by a person who has a -8.9 knowledge in music, also the singing parts are not very well described and this may seem incomplete because i’m trying to force teach myself to write short, but oh well 🤧 I wanna write a longer fic based on this in the future hhhhhhhh. me after writing this fic: wow i really clowned myself at “short fic” didn’t I 🤡 also not proofread so be mindful of errors and google autocorrect <//3

word count: 1.7 K 🤡

⇥ disclaimer: this writing does not aim to represent the activities of the real Han Jisung, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: blurb drabble 😭 (why can I never write sh0rt hmph >:( )

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @missinghan :’’) (requests for this are closed now!)

!!; song y/n is imagined to sing here is ‘Freedom 90, the Pitch Perfect Version (of course, with pre added acappella). You may find the song here, if you wanna listen to it. hhhhhh this is based on my rusty research about music equipment (which may be wrong) so if this is not what it’s supposed to mean please go easy on me. 😂

↯ note: hhhhh okay so this one has no direct mention or relation to your url but I rather picked it up from your url ~vibes~ (since the only idea that was dropping into my head was making han go missing ufhurg) so I hope you don’t mind ! Hope you like it uwu 💓 Happy reading. <3 Again this will not compare to your writing queen, but I tried. 😔 ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Gosh, this is a music recording, not a date — what’s there to be scared about?” Your friend chided, setting up the mic and the filter as you panicked behind the glass. “You’re a music major! Isn’t this supposed to be what you do?”

“You’re saying that like you aren’t one, and you totally didn’t freak out two days ago, Sana.”

Sana huffed, shaking her head before moving to connect all the wires in place. “Yeah. but…” Her voice came out low when she crouched down to fix all the wires. “The nerves shake off eventually. You’ve nothing to worry. Did you hydrate?”

“I’ve been sipping on this water bottle for the past half an hour!” You sighed, walking inside the booth to stand next to your friend. “And what do you mean ‘shake off’ — you mean that time you ‘accidentally’ broke the headphones when you wear putting them on?” A bite of your lip to stifle your laugh, and Sana’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Wow, you’re gonna-” She slapped your arm after getting up. “-bring that up even though we had an agreement that we’re gonna keep it a secret?”

“Okay, ouch that hurts!” You chortled. “There’s no one here though, I still kept my promise.”

“Yeah right, in a rented schoolroom studio, with cameras everywhere.”

“They still wouldn’t be able to hear me, right?” You pointed out, bursting into a fit of giggles, nervousness be damned when Sana pouted in defeat.

“Fine, now help me set this up. Come onnnnn…” Your friend shook your arm violently to kick you out of your laughter. You shook your head, crouching over again to fix the wires while your friend set up all the equipment outside the booth.

“All set?”

“Yeah…” You took a deep breath fixing your dress up a bit before reaching your hand out, fitting the headphones snug over your ears. Your eyes caught on something black lying on the tables, and you pointed it out.

“Whose headphones are those?” You pointed out, and Sana looked to the direction. “Eh,” she brushed it off. “Probably the person who’d received this room to record before, they’ll take care of it.” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, nodding. “Now come on, let’s start. We have to submit this tomorrow and I have a movie date, so it can’t get later than this.”

“Alright,” You chimed, clearing your throat once, twice before inhaling deeply. You were surely nervous before, but somehow singing always helped you disconnect from your surroundings, it was your escape — one of the main reason you’d chosen music technology in a heartbeat when you found out it was an option for your major.

“Ready? And, go.”

Sana hit a button, causing soft music to play through the headphones, a melody she’d carefully crafted over nights of 3 am coffee and many, many texts to you — most of them saying “I wanna sleeeepppppp waaaaa”. You’d obviously heard it before but you realised why it took her so long (nearly a week), because it was near perfection.

“Heaven knows I was just a young boy~”

The song went pretty smoothly on the most part, with Sana stopping you in between verses and and going over parts she wanted you to repeat, which you gladly complied. She was the senior, of course.

When it cam down to the last verse, about half an hour had passed — and you felt pretty good about it. your vocals were shining pretty well and blended with the music perfectly, which put you at ease.

“Okay, let’s finish this.” Sana said, focused on changing up the settings, before giving you a countdown, hitting play. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you waited for the beat drop to end, leading to your high note. That again. went pretty well, along with the rest of the song, finishing it up with an exhale.

When you removed the headphones and got out of the booth — you met the eyes of someone you did not expect to see standing there.

“O-Oh, hello Han-ssi.” You bowed down in gratitude, overly surprised of his presence.

Han was, just like Sana, your senior. He was one of the best students in your academy — of course, scoring the highest grade in all of his tests. Many would say otherwise because of his tsundere nature, but you could tell that he had a burning passion for music under those eyes. You’d listened to his tracks in various events your university hosted — and safe to say you were in love with his music. He had a way of making his tracks sound so… real? And natural — the kind that you wouldn’t get bored of no matter how many times you heard it.

Han bowed back and mumbled a silent “hello~” back to you before extending hia hand past you to grab the headphones placed on the table. Ohhh, so that’s why they were familiar. You’d noticed them hanging around his neck multiple times on campus.

Once he’d chatted with Sana and you for a bit (more Sana than you) and bowed before he left, you grabbed Sana’s arm before pulling her towards yourself.

“How long was he here for?” You whispered, a pout on your face.

“Umm, I think throughout the last verse?” Sana shrugged.

“What?” Your shoulders slumped. “Didn’t he come to pick up his headphones?”

“Are you seriously getting flustered right now?” Your friend narrowed her eyes playfully, making a teasing noise as she pushed at your shoulder.

“Ah,” You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so teasing, I’m just a little shy of anyone else hearing my singing.” You flapped your hand to brush her statement away — before she could say something or point it out how evidently flustered you’d grown of the fact that your role model — the Han Jisung — had listened to your music.

“Well, you’re a music major, kid. Get used to it.”

And with that, Sana bid her goodbye to you, helping you wrap up the place before hopping down the stairs, earphones plugged into her ears as she hummed a tune all the way.

You silently stood in front of the elevator, playing with the hem of your sleeves as you waited for it to arrive. Curse at your studios for being on the last floor of the building, waiting for the elevator seemed like an eternity.

You also didn’t notice the random person that stood beside you. it was getting late anyways, the sun was almost close to setting by the time you were done, so it was only obvious that the remaining students would go home.

“So, you sing?” A very familiar sounding voice echoed in your ears, and you flipped your head to the side, once again meeting the eyes of someone you didn’t expect to meet right now.

And of course, if was Han Jisung.

Now that you weren’t freaking out (but you were close to), you could focus on him a little more properly, and you immediately noticed the headphones hanging around his neck, again. He had a large black hoodie on, his hands were shoved into his pockets and his hair was neatly combed and parted. If you had to describe him in three words, it’d be “messy but clean”.

“Oh, h-hello again.” You bowed.

“Hi!” He reciprocated your actions, looking at you. “My question?”

“W-what?” Your eyes widened as you fiddled with the edge of your shirt.

“You sing?”

“I-” You started. “I do, I’ve loved singing since I was six.”

“Oh.” Jisung nodded, letting his words trail of for a second. “You sing really well. I listened to that last part of the song — really well done.”

Tensing up, a smile tugged at your lips. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” Jisung chuckled. “You have a pretty voice, Y/N. And that’s a genuine compliment.”

“O-oh.” You felt yourself grow bashful of his presence all of a sudden, your cheeks feeling hot as the heat spread to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You mumbled, diverting your gaze from your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“I mean it.” The boy said, frowning. at the sight in front of him — your eyes drifting from place to place and the way you shifted from one foot to other — you seemed to be uncomfortable, but in reality you just didn’t know how to respond. “You okay?”

“A-ah, I am, it’s just.” Moving your hands around, you tried to put your thoughts into words, only to fail miserably, before you sighed and collected yourself. “I just really like your music a lot, and I…” You trailed off, rubbing at your shoulder. “Kinda look up to you, so hearing you say that, it just means a lot to me. Thank you”

The boy standing beside you beamed like sunshine at your response, gently poking at your shoulder as he eyes you mischievously.

“You look up to me, huh?” He giggled when you stumbled over your words, bringing a hand to rake through his hair. “You’re adorable, I’ll tell you that too.”

“Oh my god stop, do you want me to combust?” You laughed, the nervousness laced throughout your statement.

“Okay fine,” Jisung nodded, attaching his headphones to the audio jack of his phone, rummaging through his playlist. “You wanna come to my studio once?”

“What?” Your head snapped in his direction, eyes widening as you took in what he said, excitement filling your veins? Han Jisung’s studio? Seeing him make music in front of your eyes? Is this a fucking dream?

“I mean, only if you want to, of course. I was just asking because you seemed like you’d like to see my music making process. You don’t have to say yes though.”

“Oh gosh, no, I’d love to!” You yelped, stopping him in his tracks. He smiled gently, nodding at you as he scratched his chin in thought.

“So, tomorrow morning is fine?” He looked at you with almost, almost pleading eyes, and you felt like your heart melted into a puddle on the spot. He was cute.

You smiled, shyly nodding as you quickly went through your schedule in your head. “I can work with that.”

“See you tomorrow morning then.” The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open as the both of you got in, giggling at each other.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning, that was for sure.

*silently puts on clown hat and leaves*

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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three-gulons-in-a-trenchcoat · 4 years

Note

Okay but imagine Sophie and Keefe being forced to hide out in like a little storage closet for hours to avoid the Neverseen or their parents or something. The whole time they have to snuggle up together and he is just relentlessly teasing her because he can sense her emotions and knows she is enjoying the cudddling

The Great Gulon Incident 2.0

words: 3.3k

[notes: this is a long one! really really sorry that this took so long to get out but it's here now! I really like how this one turned out :) although the title isn't very creative heh]

____________________________

“We shouldn’t be doing this”

Sophie had mumbled those words under her breath at least five times at this point, but this time it seemed to catch Keefe’s attention. He glanced over at her, a smirk resting across his face.

“Aw come on Foster, live a little! Tell me the last time you pranked someone, especially Forkle.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, eyeing the bag he had slung over his shoulder wearily as it jostled around, “You should be more careful with those.” she hissed, “have you forgotten you're carrying around live, stinky bombs?”

Keefe snickered quietly, making his footsteps softer as they neared the Foxfire gates, “Don’t worry, I know how to handle these guys, I happened to learn a few from the supposedly very handsome boy who caused the Great Gulon Incident.” He winked as he said the last part, and Sophie scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keefe had hailed her last night, asking if he could leap over for some “important business”. Sophie had been expecting something more along the lines of actually serious but learned that he instead had wanted to snag some of the gulons that were residing at Havenfield.

“And why exactly do you need ten gulons Keefe?” she had asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Keefe resembled the look of a pouting child as he twiddled his thumbs, “It's been ages since I’ve pulled off a good prank Foster,” he whined, “I think I'm going through withdrawal! The least you can let me do is led a few stinkers for the cause.” His eyes resembled a cute baby alicorn, and Sophie felt her resolve slowly chipping away.

Eventually, she threw her arms up in the air, sighing loudly, “Fine” she grumbled, holding up a finger when his face broke out in a wide grin. She tried to ignore the flickering flame in the back of her chest, itching to cause mischief, but ultimately gave in, “You only get five gulons, Keefe…. and I want to come with you.”

Keefe grinned wider, if that was even possible, and quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her to her desk, “I’m so glad you agreed to help the cause Foster!” he brandished a notebook out of thin air, “Now let me show you the plan….”

She was snapped out of her memory when Keefe shoved the sack of gulons at her, nearly knocking her off balance.

“Ah- sorry, I just need to unlock the gate” Keefe quickly apologized as he pulled out what looked like a keycard and swiped it over a sensor next to the doors. He tugged the hood of his black cape over his eyes and face, stepping in front of Sophie slightly as if to block her from view.

“What's wrong?” Sophie asked, frowning when Keefe all but shoved her into the doorway and through the large crystal halls.

“Sorry,” he said again, “There are security cameras hidden behind the large pillars.”

Sophie smirked, “How did you manage to figure that out?” she asked, handing him back the bag of gulons.

Keefe huffed quietly, “I found a map of the security cameras when I was pulling a prank on Dame Alina last year.”

“You really think far ahead in your plans,” Sophie remarked, following Keefe down the hall. She could have sworn his ears turned pink, but that could be a trick of the light.

It wasn’t long until they reached Magnate Leto’s office, and Keefe used another keycard like before in order to get inside. His face seemed to light up slightly as he untied the cord and gently opened the top of the bag. He leaped back quickly, gently tugging on Sophie's arm as the creatures toppled out of the bag, looking very disgruntled.

One of them let out a large burp, emitting a green-gray gas that had Sophie curling her lip and coughing slightly.

“Come on,” Keefe said, tugging her back slightly, “This is the part I wouldn’t stick around for.”

Sophie let Keefe drag her into the hallway, a giddy feeling settling inside her gut as Keefe shut the door, rather loudly.

They locked eyes, and Sophie felt a laugh bubbling up in her throat, Keefe seemed to have the same problem. Sophie clutched her stomach as a giggle made its way up out of her mouth, she quickly slapped a hand over it, her eyes wide. Keefe laughed at her expression, nearly doubling over.

“Come on.” he wheezed, grabbing her hand, making her blush slightly, but she was too busy trying to contain her laughter that she didn’t pay any attention to it.

They raced down the twisting halls, letting their laughter out freely as their footsteps echoed around the crystal halls.

They slowed slightly, still giggling quietly. They didn’t even notice that their hands were still entwined.

Then Sophie heard it.

Footsteps.

They froze at the same time, fear flashed across Sophie's face, and Keefe's eyes darted around, looking for an exit as the footsteps drew closer. They couldn't run towards the footsteps, but they also couldn’t run back where they came, since it would bring them back to the very stinky office.

In desperation, Keefe yanked Sophie towards the first thing he saw as the elf rounded the corner, closing in.

He covered her mouth as she let out a quiet yelp, pressing her against the wall of a supply closet as he dragged the door shut with his foot. They both flinched when it clanged loudly next to their ears.

Sophie locked eyes with Keefe, who has hunched over her rather awkwardly, trying to keep one hand over her mouth, and one over his own to stay silent.

“Are you certain you heard footsteps?” A voice asked, and Sophie's eyes widened at the same time as Keefe's. They knew that voice.

“I also heard laughter.” Lady Zillah said, and Sophie could hear her walk closer towards their door, the shadow underneath the crack growing larger. She glanced at Keefe, who had panic pacing in his eyes.

“Maybe you just thought you heard something,” Tam said through a yawn, making the shadow stop, “I mean, it's almost dawn, shouldn't we be locking up for the night aways? I’m getting pretty tired.”

Lady Zillah sighed, and Sophie inhaled sharply when the shadow grew slightly closer.

The mentor turned away, “Fine, but we are practicing even more tomorrow night got it?” Sophie breathed out harshly, hearing Keefe do the same.

“Whatever,” Tam grumbled as the footsteps silently retreated deeper into the school, presumably towards the gates.

Keefe finally let his hands fall away from both of their faces and Sophie took a deep breath of air, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the darkness.

“That was close.” They both said at the same time.

Keefe slightly huffed with laughter, nudging past Sophie to get to the door, “We’re lucky we weren't caught” he admitted as he reached for the handle, “It would've been worse than The Great Gulon Incident.”

“Ah, so are you finally admitting that you were the one who did it, Keefe?” Sophie asked teasingly.

She waited for him to reply, but he stood frozen, his hand on the doorknob.

“What's wrong?” Sophie asked, just now noticing how small the supply cabinet seemed. A bad feel brewed in her gut.

Keefe turned slowly, slight panic, with a little bit of guilt etched across his face as he sucked in a breath, “We may or may not be locked in a supply closet.”

Sophie felt her face drop, and she rushed past Keefe (which only took about a step) and tried to turn the doorknob, but to no avail.

She let out a puff of laughter, partially disbelief, that she had somehow ended up in this situation, with Keefe of all people.

“You alright there Foster?” Keefe asked, his breath ghosting along her neck, making her shiver.

She remembered hearing about a game that humans would play. Seven Minutes in Heaven, where they would lock two people in a closet like the one they were currently stuck in, and in seven minutes those two people could do anything they wanted until the time was up.

She pushed the thought out of her mind quickly before Keefe could notice her shift in emotions. He raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to say something.

“Can’t we just bust down the door with telekinesis?” Sophie said quickly, her voice slightly more high-pitched than usual. She cleared her throat, her stomach dropping when Keefe shook his head.

“Two things,” Keefe said, holding up his hand with one finger raised,“ One, these doors are made of a crazy strong metal, like, as thick as the doors at Luminaria, that's why it was so loud when it shut, and before you ask, no, I have no idea why the doors are so thick, they just are.”

“Second,” he said, holding up a second finger, “The security here recognizes when a door is unlocked, or when a door is, ya know, exploded from the inside.” he mimed an explosion complete with sound effects and Sophie rolled her eyes.

It fell silent, and Sophie stared at the ground, “So” she hedged, “We can’t get out of here.”

Keefe shook his head, “Not until morning, all of the doors unlocked at around six, which is normally when all the mentors arrive.”

Sophie dragged a hand down her face, trying to ignore the panic and sudden other emotion she was feeling.

Embarrassment maybe? No, that didn't seem right, it seemed almost fluttery, and she tried to stamp out the feeling before Keefe felt it, but she saw his eyes flicker.

She swallowed thickly.

“Are you sure?” her voice squeaked slightly, and she cleared her throat quickly.

Keefe's eyes seemed to glow slightly in the dim light, and it was then that she realized how small the supply closet was. Sophie and Keefe's feet were touching, even though they were on opposite walls.

“Oh, I'm sure,” his voice had dropped an octave, and Sophie felt her cheeks flush. He moved slightly, pushing himself off the wall and positioning his leg in between hers as he leaned next to her ear, caging her in with his elbows braced against the wall behind her, “What's wrong, Foster? I’d say you almost seem nervous.” his tone was different, deeper, it lacked its usual teasing tone.

Sophie found it difficult to breathe, and when she did take a shaky breath, it didn’t help, because all she got was a lung full of Keefe.

He smelled cool and minty, almost like the peppermint bark that her human family used to make around the holidays, with a hint of the ocean, no doubt from the white foam waves that he said he swam in every morning. Sophie suddenly felt herself imagining what he would look like after swimming in the water, with his hair flat against his head, and sweat curling around his jawline and his shirtless chest-

STOP! her mind screamed, forcing herself to shred the image from her brain and frantically trying to stop her emotions from getting even more out of control.

She could feel his breath hot against her neck and she shivered as she felt his lips curl into a sly grin. She forced her eyes to look dead at the wall in front of her, certain that if she glanced at Keefe, things would definitely go south, not that Sophie would be complaining-

Stop. her mind growled again, more firmly, as if bating this other, more feral Sophie with a wooden bat into a dark corner of her mind. Shoo! Come out later, when you’re not stuck in a supply closet with one of your closest friends who can also tell what you’re feeling at all times.

Keefe's right hand came up to her hip, and she shivered again, partially from well, the fact that his hand was on her fucking hip, and partially because the supply closet was getting really cold.

“Are you cold?” Keefe's voice was right next to her ear, allowing her to hear that he had a deep timbre to his tone that Sophie had never noticed. And she’d be lying if it didn’t make her legs feel like they turned to jello.

“Y-yeah.” She breathed, hating how she stammered.

Keefe pulled away from her, and she naively thought that it would better, now that she could actually breathe and not inhale his intoxicating scent.

But oh how she was wrong.

Because when Keefe pulled away, she could see his eyes, and his jaw, and his biceps, and his lips, and she hated how her eyes quickly dropped to his lips. But could you really blame her?

Yeah, feral Sophie got another smack with the bat.

She shook her head, pulling away slightly as Keefe removed his hands from the sides of her head. He kept his leg between her thighs, and Sophie pretended not to notice as she shivered again, hoping the cold could be blamed for the pink on her cheeks.

“I told you to bring a cape, Foster.” The teasing tone was back and Keefe finally, finally, took a step back, removing his leg from between hers.

She actually felt like she could breathe again.

“I didn’t think we would get stuck in a freezing supply closet.” Sophie retorted, bringing her hands around her chest, looking away.

Keefe sighed softly, and Sophie glanced at him right as he draped his cloak over her shoulders, pinning it in place with her Ruewen crest that she carried everywhere, even if she wasn’t wearing a cape.

Keefe said something after that, but it was drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Because if she thought that Keefe leaning over her in his scent was overwhelming, she severely underestimated what being wrapped in his cloak would do to her.

She didn’t realize what she was doing until she did it. Bringing the hood to her nose, she took a deep whiff, savoring what his scent felt like in her nose. And wow, she had never felt this safe before.

She snapped out of it suddenly. God Sophie, what are you doing? furiously trying to act like she was trying to warm her nose and not try to sniff his cape like a fucking weirdo.

She glanced at him.

He stared at her, a mixture of amusement and- was that almost pride? No, it couldn’t be that. Sophie felt her face turn pinker. To get away from her mounting embarrassment, She chose to look away from what was causing it.

“W-Why are the supply closets so cold at night?” she asked, blaming the slight stumble in her words as an act of the cold as she averted her eyes from his piercing blue ones.

Keefe blinked, wrapping his arms around himself right as Sophie realized how cold she must have just made him.

“Foxfire gets cold at night normally, so it's not like I didn’t expect this, which is again, why I told you to bring a cape.” he gave her a pointed look and Sophie scoffed.

She was about to reply when a full-body shiver racked Keefe's torso, making him clench his teeth.

She frowned, beginning to unclasp her crest from the cloak.

“You don’t have to-”

Keefe was cut off when Sophie stepped forward and flung half of the cloak over his shoulders. Sure it was slightly cramped, and it caused Sophie to be squished into Keefe's shoulder, but she wasn’t exactly complaining.

Keefe stood stiff for a moment, then very gingerly wrapped his left arm around her waist, pulling her slightly closer and causing the cloak to cover her more. He bent his legs, tugging her down slightly so that they were now sitting on the floor, and unfortunately for Sophie’s poor little heart, in a very compromising position.

Sophie was sure her face was practically maroon as she awkwardly straddled Keefe’s lap, and she looked anywhere but him as he readjusted the cloak.

“You can turn around if you want,” Keefe said softly, his ears slightly pink, “It would probably help the cloak to cover you better.”

Sophie nodded mutely, shifting around in the blond's lap until she was sitting comfortably against his chest, her racing heart didn’t slow down as Keefe stretched out his legs, almost touching the other wall, and let her do the same until they were practically miming the same position.

Keefe's hands were still on her hips, and she could feel her skin burning from underneath the thin fabric of her tunic.

“Is this ok?” Keefe asked, his voice was softer then she had ever heard, and he sounded slightly unsure of himself.

“Yeah, this is fine.” granted, it came out a little more breathy than Sophie was hoping for, but hopefully Keefe couldn't feel how fast her heart was still pounding in her chest.

But oh how he could.

Keefe was eternally grateful that Foster didn’t manifest as an empath. Because if she did, he would be screwed.

His heart felt like a stampede of mastodons as Foster shifted again, bringing her legs slightly closers to her lap, which caused her to fall further into Keefe's torso.

Over the years of living with his father, Keefe had learned how to hide his emotions behind false smiles or jokes, and right now he was grateful that Foster didn’t turn behind to look at him. And he prayed to whatever god was up there, that she couldn’t feel his hands shaking as he readjusted the cloak again, shamelessly giving her more of the fabric for her to curl closer into.

And he’d be lying if he wasn’t absolutely preening at the way Foster looked in his cloak. Pride swelling in his chest as she sighed slightly, seeming to get over her initial embarrassment and burrow into the folds of the black coak.

Of course, there was the other part of his brain, which was screaming over and over, HOLY FUCK YOUR CRUSH IS IN YOUR LAP THIS IS A ONCE IN A LIFETIME CHANCE WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STARING GO KISS HER YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBAS-

“Keefe?”

He hummed slightly, and Sophie could feel the vibrations from where she was curled on his lap.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck in here?”

He shrugged,“ at least for a couple more hours I’d guess.”

She felt his head lean forward, and she squeaked when his hands came around her hips instead of tucked into his side. He hesitated for a second, and she felt her face burn, trying to ignore the fact that they would be in this position for a few more hours.

Suddenly she felt his chin on her shoulder. His breath fanned across her right ear and cheek. Sophie fought not to shiver because she doubted Keefe would believe her if she told him she was still cold.

“Why?” Keefe questioned, and Sophie could hear the timbre of his voice again, vibrating next to her ear.

A voice in the back of her mind told her that she should be on the other side of the room, frantically trying to hide her flustered emotions from the empath, but…

She sighed, leaning her head against his, feeling his eyelashes flutter next to her cheek as she closed her eyes, “Just wondering.” she mumbled, a small smile creeping onto her face as Keefe pulled her slightly closer under the cloak.

Keefe echoed her smile, tugging her back against his chest and bringing his hands across hers. A slight blush tinged his cheeks, but he could feel her emotions against his chest, and they were…

Flustered, yeah. But also… calm, and almost, soft.

Exhaustion pawed at the teens. And Sophie found herself burrowing further into Keefe's chest. And Keefe found himself curling closer into Sophie.

They could deal with the aftermath of this prank later. Right now? They were comfortable, warm, and happy.

____________________________

#sokeefe #sophie foster #keefe sencen #kotlcprompt #kotlcwriting #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlcfanfic #kotlcfanfiction #ask #ask me anything

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lovelybarnes · 4 years

Text

scream- bucky b.

a/n: thank you to @iaminert for letting me take inspiration from their fic!!-also i just realized i didn't post either of the two fics i had finished like over a week ago?? i also don't know if i like this lol

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: karen

about: y/n has an encounter

you were cuddled up in bucky, playing with his metal fingers as his flesh hand stroked your hair. you admired the small metal plates on his hands as they shifted and shone, enchanted with the beauty of it that was simply him.

meanwhile, he was enchanted with you. you were a goddess, an angel sent straight from the heavens to drop him on his knees and finally be a light in his life. you were pure and innocent and deadly and his.

you wouldn't hesitate to step on a man's throat or break his neck, but would cry at the dawn duck commercial.

you could giggle and make fun of the same people raining bullets on you, and scream and spit into the faces of the most dangerous people on the planet. yet, you own over thirty stuffed animals that you place on your bed when you have a movie night with him.

he was enamoured with each step you took and each word you said, with each kiss you would place and each laugh that bubbled out of your pretty mouth.

he was wrapped around your finger and he had no problem with it, because he knew you would never take advantage of him. because you loved him too, you adored every scar and crevice, every memory and word that fell from his red lips.

you would kiss away the ugly words that would tumble out of his mouth and rub your nose against his when he was upset. wipe away each salty tear that would fall down his cheeks and hold his hand.

you were sunshine and flowers and everything good in the world. you were murder and revenge and femme fatale. you were beauty, life, pain, and death all wrapped up in the best way possible.

you were you and he loved you more than anything he had ever loved before.

he would let you paint his nails with the bright colors and pepper him with random kisses wherever and whenever you felt like it; and you would let him cuddle you close and make you forts like the ones he would make for his sister.

you showed him movies and music and love, so much love that he was sure he would drown.

he was okay with it, though. he was okay with everything from you.

so, when your pretty face looked up at his, beautiful e/c eyes staring at him through your lashes, addicting lips aking him if he would go with you to target so you could buy a gift for your favorite little girl, how could he ever say no to you? a fantasy walking earth.

you stood, lacing your fingers through his and pulling him up, only for him to pull you back, making you smile and slap his chest.

"bucky," you drawled, tugging his arm, "i'll buy you some of those chocolate things you like so much," you promised, kissing his cheek.

"it'll be so fast, i promise, i just gotta get the gift for kassie, her birthday party is next week," bucky didn't need to be convinced, he loved your best friend's daughter almost as much as you did.

he played along anyways, "only for a kiss," he said, and you grinned, pressing your lips to his nose, then his lips.

bucky hummed happily, pulling away only to give you another kiss on the cheek and pull you up.

"c'mon darling, we gotta get our girl a present."

bucky loved watching you be happy, which, luckily for him, was always whenever you were together.

seeing you like this, ethereal, glowing, staring at stuffed animals and pulling them to your chest, made him grin so wide, he was sure it went from ear to ear. you bit your lip as you stressed between three different animals- a hippo, a dog, and a koala. you decided to get them all and sent him to get a bag, leaving you to stare at even more toys.

he had left for barely a minute before a penguin caught your eye, and you brightened, heading towards it distractedly as you thought about the smile your four-year-old cousin would wear at seeing it.

which was why you didn't see the lady moving in your way, making you bump into her roughly. you blinked in surprise and looked over at her, barely beginning to string embarrassed apologies before the woman began to scream at you.

in that moment, when you were being lectured by a forty-year-old woman over how stupid and ignorant you were, you didn't feel like the amazing, badass avenger you were, you felt like the gum stuck under sam's shoe, and your lip jutted out pathetically as she stuck her finger in your face.

"cry about it, you idiot!" she shrieked, and you didn't shift your gaze from the floor, not wanting her to see the brimming tears on the edge of rolling down your cheeks.

god, you were tough as shit, you knew that and you were proud of it, but you were also surprisingly shy, and so sensible, blubbering whenever you saw a dog. bucky thought it was endearing, and you thought it was annoying- especially at this moment.

you sniffled after she huffed and left, still muttering about your idiocy.

you completely forgot about the penguin and walked away, running into a broad chest that made the embarrassment spark again.

"i- i'm so sorry-" tears ran down your face now, and your voice trembled.

"doll? are you crying?" looking up and finally noticing it was bucky, you crashed against his chest, dully noticing the cart with the stuffed animals and bag you had asked him to get.

"i- i was looking at a penguin, an- and i bumped into this ho-rrifying woman 'nd she yelled at me," you hiccupped, inhaling bucky in and pushing your face even further in his embrace.

he hugged you close, kissing the top of your head, "awe, baby, i'm sorry honey, i heard it from all the way over there and that women was being irrational, c'mon, we'll buy some ice cream and anything you want from here so i can see that pretty smile again, we are using tony's card."

you let out a watery laugh and nodded, wiping away your tears and kissing your sweet boyfriend. "thank you, bucky. i love you so much, baby boy."

#bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #avengers #marvel #bucky barnes cute #cute bucky barnes #fluff

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

Naughty Neighbors pt. 3 (Elriel)

I think I might’ve actually died writing the first part of this not going to lie. Also don’t come for me changing the verb tense I’m well aware lol

Coming next week...

“I’m not taking you to bed while you belong to another man, Elain.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe not your body,” he agrees, placing a wide hand on her chest, right above her heart. “But I want this to be mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

______________________________________________________________

~Elain~

It’s Saturday night, the first day of what’s shaping up to be a truly unremarkable weekend for Elain. Feyre’s art show’s tomorrow, but that’s the most exciting thing she has planned.

She can’t remember the last time she’d been excited about something even was, actually.

Pushing that uncomfortable thought away, she settles further in the bath and sighs. Desperate for entertainment, she tries to focus on the pages of the book in front of her, but her brain won’t cooperate.

After another ten minutes, she resigns herself to an early night and gets out of the tub, slipping into one of her robes.

It’s only eleven, but she gets in bed, forgotten book on her night table. Closing her eyes proves she is actually a little tired, because she starts to relax and drift off to sleep.

But then she hears it.

A low groan sounds through the wall between her apartment and her neighbor’s, and her eyes go wide. She hears two people talk, then a feminine laugh. Which turns into a loud moan a second later.

Oh. My. Gods.

There’s a thud, then sexy, masculine laughter meets her ears.

Some shuffling sounds make Elain bury her head under her pillow,, the blush on her cheeks hot enough to melt the sheets away. This is so horrible.

But no amount of pillows could stop her from hearing what happens next.

The feminine moaning gets louder, then is joined by a loud banging directly on her wall. Was that his... headboard?

Good heavens above, he’s really going for it over there.

There’s a pause, then the banging gets even more intense. The woman’s moaning is closer now, and she realizes with a start what’s happening. They’d moved against the wall. Her wall.

Oh, he's dead.

She’ll kill him herself if she had to for subjecting her to this.

Except that’s not exactly what she feels like doing as she hears the asshole practically growl, “Fuck, baby.”

~Azriel~

Mor slaps my chest, giving me a strange look. “Fuck, baby?” she whispers incredulously. “That’s what you say when you get laid?.”

I just roll my eyes and mutter, “Shut up.”

“That’s the most embarrassing, male thing you could ever say. But keep going. The point is to prove you have better stamina, and we’ve only been at this for ten minutes.”

Barely repressing laughter, I wrap her jean-clad legs tighter around my waist and keep moving against her.

When she lets out another ridiculously loud moan, I say quietly, “This is so fucking stupid.”

“I agree, but I’m not the one whose whipped.”

In case it isn’t obvious, I really, really regret telling her about Elain.

As soon as she’d heard about Lucien “Shit in the Sack” Vanserra, Mor had been determined to help.

She’s my absolute best friend, the one who knows every sordid detail about my life, and tonight she’s made it her mission in life to help make Elain jealous.

She’s also a lesbian.

“So this is doing nothing for you?” I ask with a frown. I mean, if we were naked, this would be some of my best work.

She gives me a flat look, even as I continue fake-fucking her against the wall. “Not unless you change your name to Azriella and grow a huge pair of-”

“Okay, I get it. Laugh like I said something funny.”

Rolling her eyes, she does, and I force myself to huff a chuckle, too.

Gods, she’s right. I’m whipped. And definitely deranged. For a chick who isn’t even sleeping with me.

If my friends knew, they’d never shut up about it. Mor was the only one I’d told, and that was because she knows how it feels to have feelings for someone and not be able to do anything about it.

Plus, I’d been her fake boyfriend for years in high school before she came out to her parents, so she owes me.

Mor checks her watch and raises her eyebrows. “It’s been fifteen minutes. How long do you usually last?”

It’s my turn to glare. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“I’m just saying, I have a date in an hour.”

She groans, so I wait until that stops and ask, “With who?”

“That really pretty barista I told you about, so I don’t want to be late. Five more minutes seems good.” I nod, because it’s nice she’s doing this in the first place. “Make em count, champ.”

I think I’m going to kill her one day.

But I do.

And by the end, we’re both breathing hard and have made enough noise to wake the whole building. After a very obnoxious climax, I let Mor down. “You realize if she does ever have sex with you you’re going to have to-”

“It won’t be a problem,” I assure her, one-hundred percent confident in that fact.

She gives me a disbelieving look but just shakes her head and ruffles her hair. Once at the door, she turns and whispers, “She’s going to look out the peep hole, so I’m going to kiss the shit out of you.”

With that, my best friend swings the door open, turns around, and puts on an expression I’ve never seen before. It’s desire and satisfaction and something else entirely I don’t want to read in to. It’s disgusting.

But I act like the “champ” I am and don’t react, even as she pulls my face down to hers and kisses me.

Her nails rake down my bare back, and even though this does absolutely nothing for me, I wrap my arms around her and lift her clear off her feet to bring her closer.

Don’t get me wrong, Mor’s beautiful and all, but she’s my best friend, and this is giving me flashbacks to homecoming and prom and every other time we had to put on an act.

How long till this is over, exactly?

~Elain~

Watching him kiss that woman... Elain can admit it does strange things to her. Like makes her want to storm out and yank them apart, then scream.

She somehow refraines.

He finally lets her down, and the rage and frustration builds to an insurmountable level because she’s freaking gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous where Elain was tempted to go kiss her herself.

How annoying.

Turning on her heel, she stomps back over to her bed and flops down.

She’s hot and cold and her core is so tight it's almost painful.

Never, not once in her entire life, had she thought she’d be turned on hearing something like that.

But picturing him... doing that, and so close to her own bed... yeah. She’d almost come herself, and she was in a completely different room.

Gods, she’s pathetic.

And she can absolutely never see him again.

That’s beyond obvious.

Terrible liar she is, she knows it would be all over her face. What would she even say? Oh, hey neighbor. Heard you really give that woman a good time last night. So good, in fact, you almost got both of us off. High-five!

Nope. She’d rather move across town before running in to him again.

Even though the thought makes her strangely sad.

She falls asleep soon after, mind going back over every tiny detail she’d heard tonight until she’s surprised she can sleep at all.

~Azriel~

It’s Sunday morning, meaning I don’t have to work. Meaning I don’t have an excuse to see Elain.

But fuck do I want to.

I can’t hardly wait for the blush I know will pop up on her cheeks. I probably won’t have to even speak for it to happen. There’s no way she didn’t hear the amazing fake sex I had last night. She probably won’t even be able to look me in the eyes.

So I wait until I hear her get up and start shuffling around in her apartment.

Then, like the creep I am, I sit on the couch and wait for her door to open so I can go out and tease her until she slaps me or something.

But it doesn’t. I sit there until it’s four in the afternoon, and that’s when it dawns.

She told me herself she checks her garden on Sundays--a fact she knows I know--so the only reason she wouldn’t go...

She’s trying to avoid me.

A laugh bursts out of me.

Oh, Elain. Baby girl, that just won’t do.

I grab my laptop and look up the MOMA exhibits for this weekend, a probably-evil smile already blooming on my face.

~Elain~

Should I go out the window?

No, I live on the third floor.

But...

After looking at the drop down, she decides that’s definitely not happening. She’ll have to go the normal way. Which means she’ll have to walk by the door next to hers. Which belongs to him.

Gods, she was sweating already.

Which isn’t good, since the silk of her dress will definitely show it. Forcing herself to calm down, she grabs her clutch and slowly, quietly, opens the door.

Empty.

Before that can change, she hurtles down the hallway and stairs, breathing a sigh of relief when she steps outside.

It turns into a strangled gasp as she looks up from the cement.

Her neighbor’s standing in front of her, looking dark and alluring and inexplicably handsome in the twilight sky.

But that’s not why her breath goes a little shallow.

The dark jeans, boots, and t-shirts he’s worn every time she’s seen him have now been replaced with a black suit, crisply cut to his tall frame.

He looks so handsome she can hardly remember she’s supposed to be avoiding him.

But then the why of that statement comes rushing back, and her cheeks go pink. He looks pleased at that, even as his darkening eyes roam over her frame.

Her dress is floor-length, but the spaghetti straps and low back make it revealing. That, and the fact that the silk fabric clings to every dip and curve of her figure.

His eyes notice it all, all the way down to her heel-clad feet and back up to her softly curled hair.

“Elain.”

It’s just one word, and it’s one she knows well, but it’s somehow everything.

Now more than ever, she wished she knew his name. It usually seems like a little game, but now it feels like a whole in her chest. She wants to know him.

Wants to know how to say his name in a way that makes him feel like she feels right now.

“You look beautiful,” he comments, sliding his hands in the pockets of that damn suit.

“Thank you. You look nice, too.” Nice? More like devastating. He just shrugs. “Hot date?”

A small smile graces his full lips. “No, that was last night.”

“I’m aware,” she bites out, face starting to heat. Her body’s reliving last night, and she has to force herself not to press her legs together.

“Just wanted you to know how it’s supposed to be done.”

“How considerate.”

He steps close, so close they’re sharing air. “Did it bother you, listening to me with another woman?”

She sure as hell can’t tell him the truth, so she says breathlessly, “Not unless you count the nausea.”

Damn him for turning her into a liar. And damn him for smelling so good.

There’s an arm around her waist, a hand on her hip. He’s so close now that his lips brush her ear as he whispers, “Did it turn you on?”

A whimper escapes her lips, so she bites one to keep herself quiet as she shakes her head no.

“Elain, you are such a little liar,” he scolds, pulling away to smirk at her. “You’re blushing.” A finger runs down her cheek. She bats it away.

“We should get going,” he observes, checking his watch.

That gets her attention. “What?”

His lips twitch as he says, “The MOMA exhibit is tonight, right?”

“Yes, but-”

“Well, we should go then.”

Oh, gods above. He’s planning on attending? With her?

This is a terrible idea. But one look at his devilish smile tells her there’s no changing his mind. So she sighs and says, “We’ll have to get a cab. It’s across the city.”

“I’ll just drive, then,” he says, throwing her completely off guard once again.

“Wait a second. You have a car?”

He looks amused as he takes her hand and pulls her down the street to where a dark, expensive looking SUV is parked. “I do.”

“Then why do you walk to work?”

Opening the passenger door, he turns to look her in the eyes again. “Well, you know what they say. Best way to start the day...” is a quick lay, she finishes in her mind, cheeks going pink. “-is to see a friend.”

Oh, he’s such an unbearable asshole.

She ignores the little smile he gives her and climbs in the car, and soon they’re off. For a minute it’s silent, but then she asks quietly, “Why are you coming tonight?”

“I wanted to see you. And I’ve never been to a museum. Figured I’d have the best guide this way.”

Reasonable enough, she supposes. Even if the way he looked at her earlier told her seeing a museum had nothing to do with art.

She doesn’t have enough time to contemplate it, though, because he pulls up in front of the MOMA and parks, then they’re heading inside. She’s happy to see there’s quite a few people here, something she knows her sister will appreciate, too.

Said sister rushes over immediately and smiles. “You made it!”

“Of course I did.” When she eyes the man next to her, she says awkwardly, “Um, Feyre, this is... my neighbor.”

She really has to find out his name.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, extending a hand. “It looks like a good turnout.”

It was the right thing to say apparently, because Feyre beams. “I know! Hopefully they’ll all sell. There’s a surprise in there for you, Elain.”

Oh, gods. That usually meant something bad. Like being the subject to her sister’s very comprehensive photography exhibit three years ago.

“Anyway, you guys look around and have fun. There’s champagne in the back. Thanks for coming!”

Elain hugs her sister tightly before she can disappear. “I’m proud of you. This is great.”

Feyre rolls her eyes as she pulls back, but they’re a little misty. “Oh, shut up or you’ll make me cry.”

Then she kisses Elain’s cheek and turns to talk to more people coming in.

“Champagne?”

Turning to the man next to her, she smiles and nods. That sounds like an excellent idea right about now. He disappears, so she ventures to the first room.

It’s all landscapes, beautiful paintings of mountains and the night sky and beautiful pictures of nature. She’s standing in front of one, smiling, when he comes back. “That’s your garden, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she says softly, staring at the piece in front of her with new eyes. The night they’d first met creeps into her mind, and she sees him in the painting, lounging on that cute little bench, cigarette dangling seductively from his lips.

“You look sad.” His voice is quiet and soft, and she turns to meet his gaze.

She has to look away, though, because he’s right. She is sad.

Thinking about that night makes her think about what could’ve happened. How different this last week could’ve been.

But she can’t tell him any of that, so she just turns to walk to the next room. The man next to her pauses, and she sees why as soon as her gaze goes to the wall.

Roses, carnations, lilies.

Tulips, orchids, peonies.

All her favorite flowers are on the wall, the paint blending together and creating the most beautiful collage she’s ever seen. They’re all over the wall--there has to be at least fifty paintings in here.

And in the middle of them all is the front of her shop.

It’s an almost perfect rendition to the door of The Archeron, with the glass walls and flowers almost bursting out.

The whole room’s been designed to look like the inside of her shop.

A tear escapes down her cheek as she looks at the art around her. Gratitude, love, and happiness almost erupt from her, and she notices something.

The man next to her notices it at the same time. “You feel something.”

“Yeah,” she replies happily. “I do.”

He smiles, and it’s not one of his usual little grins or smirks. It’s a full smile, showcasing all his perfect teeth. “So do I.”

The voice inside her head tells her he isn’t talking about the paintings.

And for a minute, Elain just stands there, flowers blurring in her peripheral as she stares at him.

“Please tell me your name,” she whispers.

He smiles again, taking a step towards her. And it’s just as he’s leaning down that he opens his mouth and-

“Elain!” Feyre bursts into the room with a wide grin. “What do you think?”

She practically jumps a mile in the air, but she recovers quickly and says honestly, “I love it. Thank you so much. It’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Excuse me,” her neighbor says in a low voice, eyes on something in the distance as he heads to the front of the store.

Feyre watches him go, and as soon as he’s out of earshot says, “Okay, now that he’s gone, can you tell me what’s going on? Did you and Lucien break up?”

Elain notices her sister doesn’t exactly sound sad at that prospect. “No, why would you think that?”

“Because you came here with him, and he looks like a villanous-”

“Prince Charming? That’s what I said!”

They laugh, but then Feyre smiles knowingly and asks, “You know he’s in love with you, right?”

The words clear a path through her chest, even as the heart inside swells. She suddenly can’t breathe, can’t form a normal thought. That’s... impossible.

“What? How do you know?”

“Because he just went to buy that painting,” she says softly, motioning to The Archeron’s door.

She shakes her head. “No, he didn’t.”

Feyre smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Yes, he did.”

“Oh, gods,” Elain whispers, pulse starting to race.

“You like him, too. It’s obvious to anyone who isn’t you.” Feyre flicks her nose playfully. “So stop thinking so hard. Just do what makes you happy.”

They say goodbye, and Elain turns to leave, finding him by the entrance. They walk outside in silence, then ride home in silence.

Something’s different between them, and it’s created a tangible tension in the air that makes it hard for her to breathe.

It’s only when they’re in the hallway outside their doors that she quietly asks, “Did you buy that painting?”

His body goes a bit tense, but he looks at her and answers, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“I told you.” His eyes are warm, like chocolate and caramel and smoke. And they’re looking at her like she’s everything to him as he says, “I felt something.”

“Liar,” she accuses, stealing his line.

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, so they continue to stare at each other. She knows him so well already, but there’s one thing she’s still dying to figure out.

Just as she’s about to ask, he murmurs, “My name’s Azriel.”

She tells herself it’s the deal, the arrangement. She tells herself it doesn’t matter. She tells herself she’s just paying the price.

Elain tells herself all sorts of little lies as she steps forward, takes his face in her hands, and presses her lips to his.

______________________________________________________________

Wrote this in one setting sorry if it’s shit. Part 4

@wineywitch202 @astreia-oniria @keshavomit @zukos-simp @whimsyrhys @lameomclameo @thedarkdemigod @captainthefangirlofhp @elriel4life @queen-of-glass @courtofjurdan @nessiantho @texas-shaped-waffle-maker @stardelia @myshadowsingeraz @tswaney17 @illyriangarbage @nicerhero @fancycrowncat @sjmships @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @poisonous00 @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @afifthofvodka @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#elriel #elriel fanfiction #sjm #elain #azriel #elain x azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of frost and starlight

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strangerobin · 3 years

Text

Rue: Chapter 4 (Jasper Hale x OC)

Not everyone is excited for a reunion. Especially when expectations are not aligned.

**Note: Feel free to leave me a comment and tell me how you feel about the story so far!

I had a bit of difficulty writing this part I must say; but I don’t believe that two people meeting again in forever can go back to being in love like nothings happened.

But lemme know what you think!**

Elsewhere.

Adeline ran as fast as she could, her chaser right at her heels as she darted into the woods. Rain pelting heavily, the moon hidden behind clouds, the woods seemed darker than usual.

To make matters worse, she was slowing down. She had been starving herself greatly recently, in a self-loathing attempt and now she deeply regretted her foolish decision. As if it wasn’t enough she was having trouble controlling her hunger, now she was being chased down by an unknown assailant, vampire. She ignored the constant tugging at her heart again, begging her to stop, to turn around and just look at her chaser.

It occurred to her then that this person was the same one who was at Whitehorse. Judging from the female vampire that had approached her just now in the bar, someone or some persons were interested in her. It might not even be her father. But bullshit, she wasn’t going to let this unknown stranger get to her. Nor was she going to let them ruin her peace of mind she had fought to safeguard for decades now. She needed a plan, and she needed it fast.

There was a clearing just a few miles south, if she could just make it there…! Pushing her limits, she ducked under a pine and concealed herself into the night, mindful not to tread on anything that might give her away. Circled the perimeter and watched as the man who had been chasing her stopped in the clearing, apparently confused that he had lost her track somehow.

Now-

Blood pumping, she darted out and aimed for the jugular. Her hand clasped onto the man’s neck in a death grip and pushed him up into a tree.

“Who are you and what do you want from me?” Adeline hissed. The man, blonde she noted, made no move to subdue or even try to escape her clutches. His face was still partially hidden under his hair, but she was aware of his amber orbs observing her behind his curtain of hair. Neither did she miss the scars, multiple healed bite wounds littered across his porcelain neck and clavicles, screaming danger. Her heart hammering in her chest now, a tidal wave of anxiety washed over her and an eerie sense of foreboding was looming overhead. Her mind was trying to make a connection, something about this man just… But the anxiety got to her again and she tightened her grip over his neck even harder.

It occurred to her then that the man’s companion was also nowhere to be found. Was this a trap after all?

“Answer me.” She growled impatiently. “Who are you? Why are you after me? Where is your companion?!”

Yet he only remained mum. This only further enraged her.

“Speak or I’ll rip your pretty head off of its rightful place.”

“Just like how you ripped my heart out all those years ago?”

Momentarily Adeline was caught confused by the man’s reply, until he looked up and the dim moonlight casted shadows on his smooth marble like face. Adeline gasped, dropping her arm and taking a step back. A chill ran up her spine and grasped painfully onto her heart, tightening; just as her mind roared, losing its usual powers of logics and deduction.

“Jasper?”

Back at the parking lot, Jasper had suddenly felt a breeze, a sliver of a shadow passing by, and then the strongest urge he had ever had to run after the shadow. Unknowingly, he had let the urge overtook his actions; until he saw Adeline materialising out of thin air, running at top speed a few yards before him did he finally realised what had happened.

He had chased on then, close on her tail.

And now he watched, somewhat in fascination, at the myriad of emotions that ran through Adeline’s eyes in that instant. Shock and disbelief gave way to confusion, then guilt and grief. He’d forgotten just how expressive she can be at times and how he could read her like an open book.

Except it was his Adeline. His sweet Adeline.

There was no mistaking on his part. She had not aged a single day. Her hair was shorter now, but her countenance, and those expressive cornflower eyes they were the same, fresh from his memory. There was no doubt in it. Now that his vision was so much better, he could even notice features on her face that he would have missed as a human. And yes, he could also smell her sweet hybrid scent, so similar to Renesmee’s yet also different in it’s own way. Oh how his cold dead heart felt, ready to burst, he had never felt so alive since his transformation. Perhaps he shouldn’t be too hasty in accepting this hybrid thing, but it would explain so much of her past actions. And it would also explain so well how they were seeing each other right there and now. And more than anything, he was just… feeling all kinds of emotions now that she was here again. Joy and shock at the prospect of reunion, apprehension and nausea at how events would unfold. But mostly he felt a deep inner relief and serenity for the first time in years. One he did not know that he had been missing until beholding her again for the first time in centuries.

She was the missing piece he had been seeking unknowingly all these years.

He had meant to step forward, to embrace her, to touch her, anything, something just to confirm her presence right in front of his eyes. To hold onto her, to make sure that she wouldn’t just disappear again into thin air again.

But even as he pondered on his actions, those haunting orbs were now settling to something between fear and distrust.

Adeline, her hand trembling against her lips, was slowly backing away as she tried to process the events that had transpired; unsettled, she did not even notice that she had backed herself into the trunk of another tree.

“What sick joke is this?” She finally let out a shaky laugh. Her eyes darting everywhere but him.

With a sinking heart, Jasper swallowed harshly, his throat dry. He’d run through this in his head for uncountable times now. A simulation of their reunion, heartfelt exchanges and eager embraces, passionate declarations; or cold-hearted refusals and further blows to his heart. But nothing like this, not this deer-in-the-headlight shakiness, blatant denial, this refusal of even a simple acknowledgement.

“Adeline it’s me. It’s your Jasper.” He finally breathed, closing the distance. Reaching out a finger to twine her stray locks behind her ear, before leaning in to take a whiff of her floral scent.“It’s Jasper.” He repeated like a broken record.

“No… that’s not possible…” She murmured to herself, frozen in place by shock. Until fear flashed in her eyes again and she jerked away as if she had been electrified.

“What power do you possess? Did Father send you to lure me back?” She swallowed in alarm and closed her eyes, her cornflower orbs filled with unshed tears and undisguised fear.

“Adeline?”

“Please, I’ll go, willingly. Please… just stop what you’re doing, stop messing with my mind will you?” She continued to implore, on the verge of tears. “Stop this. I’ll go mad if you don’t.”

His heart almost broke again at her desperation, her pleads weighing heavily on him.

“No Adeline, darling. It really is me.” He whispered, cupping her face gently to catch her attention.

“No, you died all those years ago. In 1863.” Adeline shook her head furiously, as if every word was a bodily pain inflicted on her part. “I saw the stone, Mrs Whitlock told me so.”

“No, no.” Why couldn’t she just see him for what he was? Why was she so adamant on disproving his entire existence? “I was turned, I was found by a coven of vampires and turned.”

“I don’t believe you.” She finally looked him in the eye and he could see the determination behind, the determination to reject his being altogether as nothing more than a illusion of hers, put into her mind as some cruel joke.

His insides raged then, why couldn’t she see the obvious? He did not come so close to her only to lose her again! Not this time!

“So I will go. I will not shackle you to a life of secrets and miseries. Nor will I bind you to eternal gloom and slaughter your happiness, take your sun and hide your moon.” He recited in a sudden outburst of spite. “Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you.”

Adeline gasped audibly, her eyes grew big as saucers, and a tear glided down her cheek. Her lips trembled and he could feel the turmoil and shock in her. He could practically hear the whirling of the cogs in her brain moving, as she finally put two and two together. Her eyes darted frantically, as the truth dawned on her.

“This can’t be.” She finally let out a hysterical laugh and muttered weakly, backing up shakily and holding onto a branch for support. “This is impossible.”

“It’s the truth, darling. I-”

“No!” She screamed with all her might. “No.” She mumbled again raking a hand through her curls roughly and shaking her head in denial, even as tears were streaming freely down her face now. “You died… you died…”

“Adeline…”

“I have to go.” She muttered to no one in particular. “I can’t, I can’t, this can’t happen, this shouldn’t have happened…My fault, my fault. I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have…”

“Adeline!” He reached for her then, to stop her, to pull her out of her panic.

“Don’t touch me!” She screamed, slapping his hand away. “Don’t…” Adeline chewed on her lips and swallowed nervously, before looking at Jasper, her eyes a sea of emotions and anguish. “Don’t try to find me ever again.”

Without so much as a backward glance, Adeline bolted in the opposite direction with lightning speed and melted into the night.

Left alone in the open, Jasper clenched and unclenched his fists. This was not what he had anticipated, in fact the worst had happened. There was a new agony in his heart, a heaviness weighing on him. Could broken hearts break a second time? If so, his had died a second time today. He could make chase, to corner her, to confront her; but was her blatant rejection not evident enough? Did she need to spell it out in black and white for him?

Letting out a heart-wrenching howl, Jasper dropped to his knees. His eyes were burning like coals but no tears would ever fall out, unlike her. He had lost that ability all those years ago, oh but how he wished he could cry now! To let release any, even the slightest of his unsurmountable grief.

But he could not.

Why couldn’t things stayed the way it had been back in Texas? If she had been a simple dressmaker, if he had never joined the army; they would have married, settled down, had a children or two and grew to see each other old. Buried together in the local cemetery, side by side and that would have been it.

Life was so so cruel.

He punched his fists repeatedly into the ground out of frustration.

Until he felt the strangest sensation.

A pull. There was a strange pull at his heart; tugging at his heartstrings, urging him on in the direction Adeline had just disappeared into.

Jasper stood up slowly, gauging at this new sensation.

It was as if an invisible pathway had just opened for him. There was a new lightness in his heart now. A giddiness at what he had just discovered.

And he thought that finally he understood what this all meant now.

This couldn’t be happening.

It was impossible!

Surely he was an imposter?! Her Jasper! Her Jasper had been dead for more than a hundred years, he couldn’t possibly have came back from the dead? And to become a vampire of all things?

A vampire? God forbid, that would mean that someone had changed him!

But she recalled his topaz eyes that shone eerily in the moonlight, the icy cold skin that had cupped her face so lovingly, that marble smooth and hard skin, the bite marks littered all over his neck. Literally nothing about him screamed human; those were the features of a top predator.

Was this some form of joke the universe was having on her? Her Jasper alive all this time? An immortal not unlike her, but stronger and more lethal?

No! No! No! No! She’d left this hole years ago. She wasn’t going to dig herself into another hole now! It couldn’t have been him! Dead as a door nail he was. She’d seen his grave, she was there.

Though no one ever recovered his body. A treacherous voice whispered in the back of her mind. And anyhow what was that line that he had recited then? It was word for word from the letter she had written to him all those years ago. No one other than himself could have read it.

Her treacherous mind continued to drift into dangerous territory, and though she tried to steer it away, the barriers were all but down now.

She’d rather it had been a stormy night. That thunder and the rain, they would have distracted her from her thoughts. But no.

The moon was a beacon hung against a starless backdrop, and through the half parted curtains, the clear moonlight filtered in, illuminating every feature of his in a white halo. Everything was so calm, so peaceful, in comparison to the raging storm within her.

She’d never stare into those warm brown eyes again, never run her hands through his thick golden curls, never feel his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest or his beating heart on her palm-

“Darlin’?” Jasper’s lashes fluttered, he had sensed her uneasiness somehow and was struggling to rise from his slumber.

“It is nothing darling.” She murmured before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, relishing in his strong embrace one last time. “It was only a dream.”

He grunted and soon his breathing was even again.

With his handsome face and his wits and charm, he’d be able to rise up in the ranks, and get a fine rich Southern Belle for a wife quick enough.

Father’s threats were still fresh in her mind.

Better this than a mangled body, six inch deep in the ground.

Better leave now when he still loved her, than when he learnt of the truth, the ugly horrible truth.

Every move was another battle. How she withdrew herself from his arms, how she struggled not to sob or to crawl back into bed and confess every little sin she had committed. To stay for another day, for him to tell her that everything would be alright for another day. How her heart broke to leave the ring on the dresser and the heartless note she had written.

One final kiss to his forehead because she couldn’t bear to turn back a second time for she was sure that she would lose her resolve and strength to leave him.

But another day would become another week, another month, another year. What then when Father returned for her? Or when he realised that his wife had not aged a single day since she turned 17?

Better this farewell now. Better to look back with love and fondness and regret, than to let it be corrupted by hate and disgust or worse… blood.

Tomorrow he will wake and she will be gone. And when the time is just right, he will forget her, he will move on, fight the war, get married, grow old. All men do, the world must go on. And only she will be stuck in time, reminiscing the past through rose tinted lenses.

It was alright so long as he lived. She would live with this pain. She would bear this petit mort.

Every. Single. Time.

Until there was nothing more left of her heart.

Was this all for naught then in the end?

Was there no need for to leave him then? Or was his death inevitable regardless of what she did? Was it something that she had done? Something she had miscalculated?

Was he even Jasper to begin with?

She needed to be somewhere, anywhere other than being alone with her thoughts. And as the little house at the end of the lane grew bigger, only then did she realise where her subconscious had lead her to.

“Adeline?”

Standing at the doorway was her half brother, Anakin, smoking. Jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail, tanned torso bare displaying all his tribal tattoos. His black eyes held surprise as he eyed her carefully.

“I didn’t think I would see the likes of you for the next few years.”

“Change of plans Anakin. Is Father here?”

“It’s only me and the tyke; you know me and the old man can never stay in the same room long before ripping each other throats.” Anakin snorted before flicking his cigarette butt away. “But Ad are you alright? You look awful and you’re shaking so badly; and you’re soaked through and muddy. What happened, Ad?”

“Nothing.” She mumbled. “Just invite me in for a bath will ya.” Though now that he mentioned it, she was feeling kind of faint. Intending to push her way in, Adeline stumbled instead and Anakin was by her side in a flash, supporting her.

“Shit you’re weak. When was the last time you even fed Ad?”

“Addieeeeeeeeeeee.” From within the house, a shrill cry sounded. It was followed by loud footsteps and a young girl of 7 or 8 bounded straight into the foyer; her features were Asian, soft brown eyes and straight dark hair. And a sunny smile on her face. “You came!”

“Hey Loreen.” Adeline tried to smile and felt another wave of nausea.

“Lorie be a good sport and run the bath will you? Addie needs a good bath and rest after her long journey.”

The child straightened her back immediately, sensing the edge in Anakin’s voice and the urgency of the matter. “Alright.” She chirped and turned to go into the bathroom.

“I see you’ve both been well.” Adeline remarked offhandedly, to which Anakin rolled his eyes.

“Bath and get changed. I’ll go get you some blood.” Anakin sighed eyeing his dirty sister. “And take those shoes off, I don’t want you trekking mud into the house. I just cleaned the floor this morning.”

Adeline pulled at his sleeve before he could turn to leave.

“Anakin thanks.”

The frown line over his faced softened and Anakin smiled a lopsided smile.

“Well what are family for?”

This time she didn’t have a smart comeback.

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #twilight #twilight imagine #jasper hale imagine

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lit-in-thy-heart · 3 years

Note

For the ask game, the scene in marigolds where they rescue Gwaine from the rock and Merlin summons the fucking massive dragon and Pelleas helps them and Lancelot threatens to haunt him if he double crosses them 🤣🤣🤣 ICONIC

dfghjkl ah yes the scene that would have been lancelot clutching adoption papers had his hands not been full with gwaine 🤣

ngl the merlin shouting in the background was actually partially inspired by six days but obviously in a different context (and that scene is also one that springs to mind for you because i still can't, it legitimately had me in hysterics) but merlin screaming in the background whilst other people are trying to have a conversation is something i love :D

i feel like lance haunting people would just be him appearing when they're on the toilet or something and giving them a withering glare. he's not really the type to follow them around with unholy screams and i think that's very original of him

tysm for the ask!!! 💕💕

(the scene is under the cut)

In all Gwaine’s nightmares, it had been light when he had been about to drown. Clouds had formed a shield around him, preventing any rescue, and he had been helpless as the tide had gradually crept forward like a legion, struggling against bonds that he could see but not untie. This, somehow, was worse. The moonlight ricocheted off the water’s surface and refracted in numerous directions, illuminating patches of the sea that left Gwaine completely at a loss as to the vastness of it. Even though he knew dry land was close, the rock – now at a higher level than his head – obscured his view and, wherever he looked, it was all darkness and glimmering scales where the moonlight dipped its fingers into the sea. Wherever he looked, he was alone.

The cold was digging its nails into him and trying to draw blood but instead injecting fatigue and Gwaine, knowing nothing but the certainty of his fate, closed his eyes once more. He relaxed his muscles as his mouth became submerged in the water, diluted salt trickling into his parted lips, his nose only millimetres from joining it. At least Anselm wouldn’t be able to use him to control Merlin. At least he wouldn’t be able to fail Merlin and Lancelot again. At least it would all be over.

‘Gwaine! Gwaine!’

Apparently hearing the voices of the people you loved in your final moments wasn’t just a comforting myth, because Lancelot’s voice was piercing the rolling fog in Gwaine’s head quite successfully. It was odd that he could also hear Merlin roaring spells in the distance, too, because Gwaine didn’t really associate Merlin with violence. Merlin and his voice belonged to the tentative dawn and amongst the chorus of birds that came with it, belonged with the rustling leaves in a gentle breeze and the jewelled grass, not to the furious fire that could take apart whole armies. Just like Lancelot and his voice belonged to the stark sunset and the whispers of tendrils of clouds, belonged with the constellations that covered the heavens in a thin layer of protective dust and the bleeding colours of day, not to the agonised desperation that could cause the sky itself to fissure.

Still, any last thoughts of them brought Gwaine comfort.

There was a blunt shout from behind but Gwaine didn’t react, wanting nothing more than to sleep. His nose ducked below the surface and everything around him became muffled as his ears were cushioned by the water.

It might have been for minutes or years that Gwaine was suspended there, tethered to the rock, before he was hauled from the water with someone calling his name in a strangled voice between obscene swearing.

An arm was wrapped around Gwaine’s waist to support him as he instinctively tried to inhale and began coughing, his whole body convulsing in the attempt to dispel the water. After the threat had seemingly been combated, his legs gave way but he was caught before he could fall and drawn close to a hammering heart.

Gwaine could feel the next words stir within him, transmitted by the vibrations of his rescuer’s vocal cords, as he drifted to the fringes of consciousness. ‘Merlin! Merlin, I’ve got him!’ Something angular dropped onto the top of Gwaine’s head, movement grating against his scalp. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ve got you, you’re safe.’

‘Lance…’M’sorry…’

Lancelot, feeling Gwaine’s body go limp, rested him against the rock, hand fumbling for a pulse in panic. Glancing towards the shore, he could see that Merlin was gradually advancing, his face contorted with rage in the flashes of it Lancelot could catch as flares embedded themselves in bandits. Lancelot had seen Merlin use magic before, of course, but never so violently; from the moment they had broken from the cell, Merlin had been ruthless in the damage he had dealt. The streaks of fire penetrating the atmosphere provided Lancelot with a little visual aid and, satisfied that Gwaine was still breathing, he used his own body to prop up his partner, hands groping for the shackles.

Merlin was going to kill him for discarding his sling – if the pain in his shoulder didn’t kill him first – but Lancelot gritted his teeth and focused instead on trying to free Gwaine. Which, apparently, was going to be harder than he’d first thought. The waves were slapping against higher and higher points of Lancelot’s back and he pushed one leg between both of Gwaine’s to steady him further. His fingers clawed at the iron uselessly, trying to pull apart the cuffs around Gwaine’s wrists, but it was futile. Frantically, Lancelot turned his gaze back towards the shore and latched onto Merlin’s formidable figure, who was in the middle of throwing back the bandit posted to guard Gwaine, whom Lancelot had darted past in the darkness.

‘They’re chains,’ Lancelot cried out when Merlin was close enough, voice cracking, ‘chains, not rope. I can’t get them off.’

Merlin splashed through the water as quickly as he could, fingers grazing Lancelot’s as he examined the chains. There was an explosion of light as Merlin muttered an incantation and winced, his hand going to his chest. He brushed off the twinge and checked that the tether had been severed, glancing towards Lancelot. ‘We have to get him out of the water and get him warm.’

Lancelot was already in the process of doing so; he had laid Gwaine out on the rock once more and was angling his body to drape Gwaine over his uninjured shoulder.

‘Lance, no, your shoulder—’

‘I’ll be careful,’ Lancelot replied, straightening his posture and hooking his left arm around the backs of Gwaine’s knees. ‘Unless you have a better solution?’

‘I’ll take him.’

‘Over my dead body,’ was the sharp response. ‘You’re not meant to be lifting heavy objects and I’m pretty sure a human body comes under the category of “heavy objects”. Do you still have the cloak?’ Lancelot added as he began to wade back to shore, nervously keeping an eye on the castle’s silhouette.

Following the knight, Merlin untied the cloak from his waist. ‘I can do a drying spell,’ he offered. ‘I don’t know how much it will help, but anything is better than nothing, right?’

With a nod, Lancelot spun around when his boots made contact with dry land and watched Merlin place a hand on Gwaine’s exposed back. His eyes shone and, as they faded, he arranged the cloak over Gwaine’s form. Lancelot trapped the material between his hand and Gwaine’s legs, looking towards the castle again. ‘It’s not going to take them long to figure out where we’ve gone. And Gwaine took more blows than he can probably handle back in the throne room…’

Lancelot broke off before he added to his panic by recalling the images that had shot by only moments before – of Gwaine seemingly lifeless in the water, his slurred speech, his helplessness. This was the second time in just over a fortnight that Lancelot had felt his heart contract with terror at the sight of Gwaine’s lifeless form, but he was no less used to it. Stilling for a moment, Lancelot registered the faint sound of Gwaine breathing and relaxed slightly. They had to get him to Camelot.

Merlin’s hand was resting on his uninjured shoulder. ‘It’s alright. I’ve got an idea. We need to start moving towards the mainland.’

‘It’s not something stupid or dangerous, is it?’

‘Not for us,’ Merlin assured him, giving Lancelot’s shoulder a small squeeze. He kissed him gently before dropping a kiss in the midst of Gwaine’s now-dry hair. ‘We’re going to be okay. Start moving. I’ll catch up.’

Lights – pinpricks of bronze blood against the night sky – were eddying towards them from the direction of the castle. ‘Merlin—’

Merlin pushed his shoulder. ‘I’ll be fine. Go. Get Gwaine to safety.’

Hesitating momentarily, Lancelot started forwards as the lights behind them expanded. With his right arm hanging limply by his side, he contracted the muscles in his left arm to more firmly support Gwaine and glanced over his shoulder. Merlin had turned away and stood with his legs slightly apart, his head tilted towards the sky. The words that emerged from his mouth reached Lancelot clearly, but that didn’t help him decipher their meaning.

'O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!’

Although, picking up on the word ‘drakon’, Lancelot could hazard a guess as to what would be involved. Merlin repeated the phrase, more insistently this time, and the guttural quality to the syllables that stretched over Merlin’s tongue sent Lancelot’s skin erupting into goosebumps.

He turned his mouth towards Gwaine’s motionless body, the faint smile grazing the muscles concealed by the cloak. ‘Gwaine,’ he whispered, ‘you are going to kick yourself later for missing this.’ It might have been his imagination, but Gwaine seemed to shift slightly against him. ‘But don’t worry, my love, I’ll tell you all about it when you’re better.’ He paused before pressing a kiss to the cloak. ‘Rest well, now, my love, it’s all going to be fine, I promise you.’

Raising his head, Lancelot looked back at Merlin, who was still standing stubbornly in the place that he’d been left. He was also still shouting and didn’t notice a figure streak past until they were halfway towards Lancelot. Breaking off his call, Merlin fired a ball of flames at the figure but they swerved to the side and stumbled to a halt beside Lancelot, who had ceased all movement.

Reflexively, Lancelot reached down and removed the knife Gwaine had given him from his boot, biting down on his lip to avoid crying out, and held it out. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ he threatened.

‘Put the knife down, I’m here to help you.’

Still holding the knife, Lancelot squinted at the tangled hair. ‘You’re the one Gwaine had to fight. You were going to kill him.’

‘Anselm would have killed me.’ The bandit let out an impatient noise. ‘Look, I don’t know what batshit thing your friend is doing over there, but whatever it is, it’s only going to hold the others off for so long. And you can’t carry Gwaine by yourself.’

Desperately, Lancelot looked between the bandit and Merlin. Finally, he shoved the knife back in his boot. ‘Fine. But if you hand us over to Anselm, I will haunt you so hard—’

‘I’m not going to hand you over to Anselm. Gwaine told me to get out if I could, so I thought I’d take advantage of the chaos you caused. Give him here.’

With a grunt, Lancelot lowered Gwaine and draped one of his arms over his shoulder, motioning for the bandit to support the other side. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Pelleas.’

Lancelot took a step forward. ‘Right, Pelleas, we’re heading in the direction called as-far-the-fuck-away-from-here-as-possible. Merlin said he’d catch up with us, and I trust him—’

‘Merlin?’

Lancelot silently swore. ‘Did I say Merlin? I meant Will. Will said he’d catch up with us—’

‘Is that a dragon?’

Lifting his head, Lancelot watched as the stars were obscured by a large mass before a creature landed beside Merlin and was unable to conceal a smile. ‘A fucking massive dragon, I think.’

Pelleas frowned at him. ‘There’s a difference?’

‘Oh, yes.’ The smile on Lancelot’s face faded as a strong stream of fire issued from the dragon’s jaw, directed at the bandits approaching Merlin. ‘Thank you for your assistance, but we’ll be able to take it from here. And, if you want my advice, run as far away from here as fast as possible and don’t look back. And breathe a word about Mer—Will to anyone—’

‘I won’t,’ Pelleas hurriedly said. ‘I won’t.’ He ducked out from beneath Gwaine’s arm. ‘If—If Gwaine wakes, tell him I forgive him.’

With that, Pelleas melted into the darkness.

Lancelot tried not to think too hard about the ‘if’. Merlin was running towards them and Lancelot hoisted Gwaine up, their cheeks brushing together. ‘No pressure, my love, but it would be really helpful if you could wake up right about now. I’ve never had to mount a dragon before—’ Lancelot waited for an interjection in the form of a dick joke, but it didn’t come. ‘Well, not a real dragon, because Merlin’s magnificence doesn’t count.’ He paused again. ‘I can’t believe that I’m making dick jokes and you’re too unconscious to make note of it. Anyway, I’ve never had to mount a dragon before, let alone with an unconscious knight relying on me. So, if you could wake up…’

As he moved his ear to Gwaine’s mouth to check that breath was still hitting his cheek, weak words were shaped by the breeze. ‘’S’my method. Humour‘s a d’fense mech’nism.’

Lancelot drew his face away. ‘Yeah, well, you weren’t around to use it.’

‘Right here, ‘n’t I?’ Gwaine struggled to open his eyes: the lids flickered but remained steadfastly closed. ‘Right though. Mer’in does have a dr’gon dick.’

Laughing as tears collected in the corners of his eyes, Lancelot shook his head. ‘I can’t believe all it took was a dick joke to revive you.’ He pressed his lips to Gwaine’s forehead. ‘I fucking love you, you know that? And it’s all going to be okay. We’re going to get you back home and patched up and everything is going to be fine and no harm is ever going to come to you again and—’

‘Lance…’

Whatever Gwaine was about to say, though, was interrupted by Merlin’s arrival as he skidded to a halt in front of them, one hand on his chest with the other holding an orb of light. In the fragmented illumination, the corners of his mouth were twisted in pain and his breathless words were ragged. ‘Kil—Kilgharrah can take us to the woods just outside the citadel,’ he gasped out. ‘And he’s also helpfully offered to torch the place.’

‘Pelleas…’ murmured Gwaine.

Lancelot buried his mouth in Gwaine’s hairline. ‘Pelleas got out, my love, it’s alright. Save your strength.’ Catching the start of Pelleas’s name in Merlin’s tone, Lancelot cut him off softly. ‘Later, Merlin. There will be time then. What do we need to do?’

Sparing a moment to give Gwaine a tearful kiss, whose mouth flickered minutely in response, Merlin turned back towards Kilgharrah. ‘We just need to get on his back. We can—We can sort Gwaine out when we’re settled and secure.’

At the sound of his name, Gwaine finally managed to open his eyes. He was confronted with blazing fires and a very large shape a little way off and, blinking drowsily, he leaned closer into Lancelot. ‘’S’at the fuckin’ massive drag’n?’

‘Perhaps don’t call him that,’ Merlin fondly said, voice just carrying over Lancelot’s reminder of what he had just said to Gwaine. ‘His name is Kilgharrah and he is the last dragon.’

#merwaincelot and the chaos that comes with them my beloved <3 #aaaaaaand now i want to write another work for we are bound together by delicate stems #but i need to focus on my current wip first #thanks again for the ask!#maybe pelleas will return....#donttouchtheneednoggle #asks #lit writes #merlin #gwaine #lancelot #merwaincelot #bbc merlin #merlin fanfic #drowning #drowning tw

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