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happyandticklish · 3 years

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Disarming Your Demons

Notes: Okay, so I’m only halfway through Jujutsu Kaisen, but I had an idea and I had to write it down. I’m not sure if I’m gonna write anything else for it until I actually finish the show, but I said that before and now this exists, so who knows really.

Summary: Itadori discovers a new method to deal with misbehaving curses.

Sharing a body with a thousand-year-old curse could have its downfalls, something Itadori was quickly becoming familiar with. Though he could control it most of the time, it was difficult, and took a strain on his mind and body. He put on a brave face afterwards, insisting that it was no big deal, but the truth was anything but. Sukuna’s ability to switch out with him was growing stronger, and the exhaustion was setting in faster now with each time Itadori wrestled back control over his body. In the heat of battle was one thing, edged on by desperation and the will to keep his friends alive. But it was the other times, when Itadori was tired and vulnerable and fully unprepared to battle his literal inner demons, that he regretted the lifestyle most.

Say, for instance, in his dorm room, half-asleep and dreary from a battle earlier that day.

“Hello again.”

Switching out with Sukuna was strange. He didn’t feel it in a physical sense, no pain or sensation inflicted upon him. One moment he was in his body, and the next he was trapped, a helpless bystander to the other’s will.

“You know, it’s awfully bold of those teachers of yours to leave you all alone like this at night.” Sukuna stood, stretching his arms above his head in satisfaction. “Do they really put so much stock in you to assume you’d be able to fight me, like this?”

“Sukuna.” Itadori’s voice was inaudible to anyone who might be passing by, an aimless thought floating around in his consciousness, but he knew the other could hear him nonetheless. “Give me back my body!”

“Please,” Sukuna dismissed, waving one hand as he strolled around the dorm, examining objects with a vague curiosity. “After you used me earlier? I’m growing rather tired of this dynamic, you know. Only ever summoning me when you need your friend healed, or a new big baddie rears its odious head. Then, afterwards, you hide me away without so much as a thank you.”

“I do appreciate your help,” Itadori started carefully, trying to keep his tone neutral. It was difficult though, when the other could easily read his true thoughts. “But you can’t expect me to simply hand my body over like some kind of puppet. I know what your true intentions are, and I won’t let you harm my friends or anyone else.”

“Oh, of course not, not heroic, selfless Itadori.” He placed a hand on the doorknob, twisting it and pushing the door open with one hand. “I wonder what would happen if I went to pay them a little visit now?”

“No!”

“Oh? Don’t like that, do you. Then why don’t you do something about it? Force me back, take over your body once more.” Sukuna chuckled dryly, pausing in the doorway. “If you can, that is. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the toll this is taking on you. Do you really think you have the strength to best me now, when you’re tired and weak from battle?”

Itadori tried, he really did. He knew he had to do this, but Sukuna was right. In his current state, he could hardly focus enough to remain present enough to speak to the other, let alone reclaim his physical form. With his last remaining willpower, he managed to gather enough strength to take control of one arm before he found himself blocked by the other.

Sukuna’s eyes widened, and then he laughed, a throaty, derisive thing that made Itadori clench the fist he had. “One arm? Is that it? You truly are in for it now. I must say, I am impressed though. I didn’t think you had even that in you. Still, it’s no matter. I could end your world as you know it with both my hands tied behind my back. This pathetic defense is but a pebble in my path. I must thank you for the amusing display though—I needed a good laugh.”

Itadori watched helplessly as his body moved forward against his will, his mind racing as he tried to think of anything he could do in his position.

I needed a good laugh.

That was it!

Itadori would have smiled if he could use his mouth. An idea was formulating in his mind, crazy and nonsensical, but possibly just the thing he needed. It was a method that Gojo had employed once, to train him to focus on maintaining curse energy and resist distractions. He had no idea if the same thing would work on Sukuna, but seeing as he was in his body and therefore should be just as susceptible as Itadori had been, it just might work.

Sukuna stopped short as a jolt of sensation shot through him, and he snapped his head down to see his own hand squeezing his hip. “What the hell?”

“Ha! I didn’t think it would actually work!” Itadori’s voice rang out triumphant through the other’s mind as he squeezed again and again, quick and sudden so that Sukuna had no time to adjust to them. “Who knew that my own ticklishness would come in handy one day?”

“Tickli—what?” Sukuna started in confusion, but quickly slapped his other hand to his mouth to hold back… was that laughter?

He stumbled back against the wall, torn between shoving the other’s hands away and holding back the embarrassing noises leaking between his fingers. It was in times like these that he missed his four arms. It was hard enough to work with only two arms—one was impossible.

“W-What are you d-dohoing?” Sukuna grunted, trying to sound intimidating despite the silly grin quickly taking hold of his features.

“Tickling you, duh.” It was weird tickling his own body, and weirder still to have the sensation disconnected from him. He could feel the AC in the hallway on his arm, and the warmth of his hip under his hand, but that was all. It was disconcerting, but Itadori was grateful for it in this moment. He wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to continue if he could feel everything the other was feeling. He could only imagine how Sukuna was managing to stop himself from collapsing into an Itadori-sized puddle of laughter on the ground. “Haven’t you ever heard of tickling before?”

“I-Is that some k-kind of hihidden Jujutsu?” Sukuna snapped angrily, annoyed at the chuckle that had slipped into his words halfway through.

Laughter rang through his head, unhelpfully as Sukuna tried to hold back his own. “Dude, what? Of course not! Tickling is… well, it’s a human thing you know? When you lightly touch the human body, like this—” he scribbled his fingers up his sides suddenly—“They laugh! I’m not sure why though… science is still a bit iffy on that.”

Sukuna had stopped listening at this point. He had burst into panicked giggles the second Itadori touched his side, unprepared for the other’s change in strategy. Sukuna’s hand come down, wrapping around his wrist and pulling it up, away from his sides.

He drew in an exhausted breath, grinning in relief as he held the other firmly away from him. “There. Your… tickling, or whatever it is, is ineffectual now. Seems like you didn’t think this plan through, did you now?”

He was right. It was a temporary solution, but the truth was that Itadori was going to get nowhere with just one hand. Which was why…

Sukuna’s eyes widened as he felt a sudden pull at his person once more. His body was rebelling, and he fought back, trying to push back at Itadori’s attempt to switch back. He was getting stronger now, and Itadori was still weak, so it should be nothing to keep control from the brat. What he hadn’t expected was for Itadori to focus all his energy on reclaiming a single part of his body, leaving Sukuna unprepared for the concentrated force. He felt his fingers slipping on his wrist, his left arm losing connection just like the first one had.

“No!” Sukuna growled, but it was too late. Both arms were lost to him now, and he knew if Itadori could, he would be smirking.

“Yes,” Itadori countered. Surprisingly enough, he kept his one arm raised. He lowered the other one, poising his fingers under his arms and wiggling them in the air threateningly. “I remember this always being one of my worst spots. Unfortunately for you, I’m afraid.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes in confusion, but before he could say anything he was stopped by the sensation of nails gently spidering under his arm. It was a slow, unhurried process, that never missed its mark. Instinct shot through him like a bullet and Sukuna attempted to bring his arm down protectively. He was stopped by the other’s remaining control of the limb, which kept it raised exposed and vulnerable over his head. It didn’t help that Itadori hadn’t worn a shirt to bed the previous night, so Itadori had full access to his bare torso.

Sukuna spluttered over a laugh, a hysterical cackling that only grew in desperation as time went on. Sparks flurried through him, his stomach erupting with what felt like millions of butterflies all taking off at the same time. It was impossible to explain how unbearable the feeling was, and Sukuna wondered how humans lived with such a weakness on their body all this time.

“A-Ahaha, stahahahap, eh, gah, stahahahap i-ihihit!” Sukuna’s head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut as a wild grin danced along his features. “Y-Yohohou irritahahating b-brahat!”

“Intense, right?” Itadori asked, not even trying to hide the amusement in his voice. “If only you had chosen a less ticklish vessel. You’re in for it now, though. I got to be honest, it’s kind of funny seeing a bigshot curse like you writhing around like a worm on a hook.”

“Shuhuhut uhuhuhup!” Sukuna demanded, though it came out far more giggly than he would have liked. He couldn’t concentrate like this, couldn’t even begin to start to try to reclaim his arms. He needed him to move his hand, maybe back to his hips, or somewhere else, anywhere else. He wasn’t sure if the rest of this body was less ticklish, only that he needed Itadori to move away from that spot.

“Not a chance,” Itadori scoffed. “This is way too much fun! Of course, you could always stop me. Just switch back and the tickling won’t affect you anymore; it’s that easy.”

“L-Lihihike hehehell Ihihihihi wihihihill!” He was slipping now, his body sliding down the wall in an attempt to get away. Unfortunately, you can’t run away from yourself, and those wiggling fingers followed him all the way down. “Cuhuhut ihihit ohohout wihihihith thahahat sphohohot!”

“Why?” Itadori asked innocently, loving this a bit too much for his own good. But could he really help it when he was given such a perfect oppurtunity for revenge? “Does it tickle too much for the big bad curse?”

Sukuna was going to kill him. Then, once he was sure the pest was well and truly dead, he was going to bring him back to life so he could kill him all over again. Right now, however, his focus was only on those devastating nails, light, barely-there touches that had his mind reeling. When his fingers traveled a bit too high, skittering at the top of his armpits, he finally gave in. “Yehehehes, ohohokay, ihihit tihihihickles, ohohor whahahatever y-yohou cahahalled ihihit! Sohohomewhehere ehehelse!”

“Are you sure you want me to go somewhere else?” Itadori questioned teasingly, circling the area with just one finger. Sukuna ducked his chin into his chest, unable to hold back the flood of giggles that caused. “Really sure?”

“Y-Yohohou, ahaha, yohou lihihittle—”

“Okay, okay.” Itadori moved his hand away, pulling his other arm down. Sukuna exhaled in relief, an exhausted grin still dancing on his features. Unfortunately, Itadori noticed. “Hey, don’t relax just yet. I’m not done with you. After all, you still haven’t given me back my body, have you?”

“What the hell—noHOHO!” Sukuna burst into laughter anew as his arms wrapped around himself, trapping him in a tickly hug as fingers wiggled up and down his sides. “S-SHIHIHIT!”

“Regretting your words yet?”

Sukuna thrashed wildly, howling as he doubled over in a useless attempt to protect himself. The snarky remarks were gone now, so completely was he lost to his own laughter. His skin twitched and goosebumps scattered up his sides, a helpless reaction to the playful tickling.

Because it was playful. Despite everything, he could tell that Itadori was having fun with this. And maybe, just maybe, the other was too. His insides felt warm and fuzzy in a way they hadn’t in a while, his laughter peaking between desperation and silly giggles. It was strangely addicting to give in like this, allowing the tickling to consume his thoughts and blur out any remaining negativity.

It was… nice.

“I-IIHIHITADORI!” His head was thrown back, a hearty flush spreading across his cheeks and warming his skin. “I-IHIHI CAHAHAN’T!”

“You know how to stop this,” Itadori reminded him. “Just switch back and the tickling stops.”

Sukuna fell back on the floor, unable to hold himself up against the relentless tickling. He let out a frankly embarrassing squeak, the sensations breaking through the last of his revolve. And finally, at last, he caved in.

With a start, Itadori felt the other ducking back into himself, releasing his body in the process. He stopped wiggling his fingers, sitting up slowly as he regained control of himself once more. He was sweaty and exhausted, like he’d just ran a marathon, and he could feel that familiar floating sensation in the pit of his stomach that came with being tickled.

“Damn brat,” Sukuna complained from inside him, and Itadori smiled fondly. He would have to remember this method for next time.

“What the hell?”

Itadori startled as a voice shot through his thoughts, and he glanced up to see Megumi standing in the hallway. He was still in pajamas, and his hair was sticking out in several directions. The look on his face implied he’d just woken up. The two made eye contact, Megumi taking in Itadori’s flushed features and his sprawled position on the floor.

Megumi furrowed his brows in confusion. “Itadori? I heard a noise and I thought… are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” Itadori dismissed, sitting up slowly. “I was… sleep-walking. Yeah, that’s it. Just a weird dream, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

Megumi continued to stare at him for a moment, clearly debating whether or not to believe the other. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “Alright. If you say so. Just keep it down next time, will you? Some of us are actually trying to sleep.”

Itadori threw the other a hearty thumbs-up, grinning innocently. “Will do!”

Megumi frowned, but eventually disappeared back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Itadori stood up fully, his legs a little shaky from the previous tickling, and decided to do the same. It was the middle of the night after all—sleep was probably in order. However, as he turned the knob to shut the door behind him, he heard a voice loud and clear in his head.

“Sleep tonight, young sorcerer, and get your rest. Because tomorrow—” a sudden pinch to his side as Sukuna wrestled control of his hand—“it’s your turn.”

Itadori regained control almost instantly, and his hand was his again as though nothing had happened. He smiled nervously, not doubting the other’s words for a minute.

And as he got into bed that night, pulling the covers tight around himself, he found he couldn’t wait.

#tickling #tickle fic #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #yuji itadori #fanfiction

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ameliajessicawilliamspond · 3 years

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PART 2

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A heavy kick to his ribs was Luke Skywalker's rude awakening.

"Rise and Shine, sweetheart!" A cruel voice mocked.

"Come on, Qiler." Someone responded, exasperated.

Luke looked around the room grogily. The jedi was surrounded by five men, his hands bound above his head to an old rusty poll in a cold, dingy bunker. His head was still spinning from whatever they had given him to knock him out.

"Hey, kid!" A man to his left slapped him across the face to get his attention. "What are you doing in our territory?"

Luke bit his lip, thinking. If they knew why he was here, they might kill him. If they knew who he was, they might kill him. If he said nothing, they might kill him. Either way, this was not an ideal situation to be stuck in. His silence earned him a punch to the stomach from the larger man to his right. "My friend just asked you a question. I suggest you answer."

"Haha! Good one, Keye!" Another laughed.

"I..." Luke began before biting his tongue once more. He had to decide how best to deal with this situation. He could use the force right now, break the bonds, take these ruffians out and be done with it. After all, Din was unconscious somewhere out there in the cold; freezing, dying, alone....

But these men may be their only help around for miles. Plus, they could be the smugglers who had found the holocron, which means it could be close.

He had to be smart about this.

Luke leaned forward, his mouth open as if he was about to speak, before sighing and leaning back against the cold metal behind him. "Nah, you guys wouldn't know what I'm looking for."

"What do you mean?" The man in the middle -Qiler, he remembered the skinny one say earlier- asked.

"It's just that...well," Luke looked them up and down, wrinkling his nose. "it's above YOUR paygrade." He said, as snoody as he could, earning himself another slap across the face. Qiler grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him close enough that their noses nearly touched.

"We are the famous Smugglers of Kajimi." He said, glaring into the jedi's eyes.

Luke blinked. "...Who?"

"The..." Qiler stuttered. "We're..." His grip loosened as he broke eye contact to look at his comrades. They all looked as surprised as he was. "You've never heard of us?"

"Sorry." Luke shrugged. "Must be local fame or something."

"Where are you from?" The skinny one asked.

"Ever heard of the Galatic Republic?" The jedi felt tension rush through the room at his words. "I was sent on a mission to find some artifact for them."

"What kind of artifact?" The big meaty one asked.

"Like I said, you've probably never even heard of it." Luke said, sitting back again, nonchalantly. "I mean, it's common knowledge where I'm from, but maybe not all the way out here."

Qiler reached forward at lighting speed, grabbing his jaw and pulling him close once again.

"What. Is. It?" He demanded.

Luke stared the man down for a moment before yanking his face from the man's grasp. "A Jedi Holocron."

The men looked at each other. Luke shrugged, regaining his non-chalant demeanor. "Like I said, I'm sure you've never heard of it. Why would you?" He laughed.

"Oh yeah, smartass?" Qiler yelled, turning back toward the table behind him. He reached into a drawer and pulled out an odd cube.

There it was.

Din was right. The Smugglers of Kajimi did find it. But they hadn't sold it yet!

"What do you think of that?" He said, tossing it in the air like it was a ball and not one of the rarest artifacts in the galaxy.

"I think you better give that to me so I can return it to the Republic." Luke said, his whole demeanor had changed, his tone low and serious.

Qiler let out a hearty laugh, putting it down on the table with a loud thump that made the Jedi flinch. "Empire, Republic, none of them have ever done nothing for me."

Luke took a deep breath before shrugging and leaning back against the pole that held him there, trying to regain his charade. "Oh well. The Republic would have paid you big for that, as well as for me." He made his eyes go wide, feigning surprise. "...oops."

"What was that?" Qiler asked, rising from his seat.

Luke stayed silent.

"Maskter, run a search on him." He said and the group turned their backs on him. Maskter ran through the bounty database before finally pulling up Luke's bounty.

"A jedi?" Maskter read. The group looked between each other. The bounty on him was...It was insane.

Just as they were about to round on the jedi, Luke sprang into action. He snapped his binds and stood, extending his hand and shoving the group apart with the force. He pulled Din's scarf from his back pocket and rushed forward, grabbing and wrapping the holocron in the fabric before making a break for the door.

It flew open, intense cold rushing in and wrapping around his body like frozen fingers gripping at his limbs. A sudden memory flashed through his mind of --Cold, so cold, Ben? Ben was here. Degoba? Pain, pain, pain...Han?-- He shook his head, pulling himself from the awful memory and rushed into the snow, cradling the artifact. He didn't know where he was, and he didn't care. He knew he had to get out of the area first, find the waterfall, get Din and get the kriff home. His mind swam with the last image of Din he had; laying on the bank, reaching for him...

Engrossed in his own worry, he missed the sudden sharp warning in the Force as something tore through his abdomen.

Luke stopped in his tracks, the air sucked out of his lungs. With wide eyes, Luke slowly looked down, his hand touching his stomach. When he pulled it away, it was wet with blood.

A bullistic. And not blaster fire, a solid bullet had gone through his body.

So, his bounty was dead or alive, then?

Luke dropped to his knees, one shaking hand gripped over the wound and the other clinging desperately to the wrapped holocron.

Behind him he heard voices. The smugglers were gaining on him.

Luke screwed his eyes shut, trying, desperately trying to push past the pain spreading through his body. He stood slowly, ever so slowly, placing the holocron down next to him.

He stretched out his fingers, trying to stall their shaking with little results. The men got closer, their voice grew louder. He raised his arms high in the air before slamming them down. The earth beneath him shook and a huge flurry of snow flew up behind him, blinding the group pursuing him. They screamed in frustration as they stumbled and got lost in the sudden snow storm.

Luke bent down, letting out a cry as his wounded side protested the movement, then ran as fast as he could. He ran and ran and ran, not caring where he ended up, he just had to away. Away from the smugglers, the bunker, the violence, the pain. He ran until his body didn't allow him to run anymore. He found a large snowbank and rushed behind it, falling behind the freezing cover, hoping it was enough to shield him from his pursuers. Luke gasped in breath after breath, trembling hands gripped against his wound, dropping the holocron next to him so both hands could put pressure on the wound. His body wouldn't respond anymore, too cold, too hurt to move. Luke choked back a sob as another rush of pain went through him.

He really hated the cold.

"I'm sorry, Din." He mumbled, before slipping into unconciousness.

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"Luke!" Din woke with a start, the jedi's name dripping from his lips. He sat up before instantly regretting it, his aching body bringing him swiftly back to the ground.

"Well, well, the sleeping beauty awakens." A gruff voice says from behind him. He turns to see a woman entering the doorway, a pile of logs in her arms. She looked to be in her late 60's with long blue hair and shining orange eyes hidden behind the markings of wisdom her age had earned her.

"Where am I?" Din asked.

"You are a guest in my home, even if as a reluctant one." She said, tending the fire.

Din's memory began to catch up with him and he remembered his last cognitive memory; Luke being drugged and dragged away by strangers as they left him for dead. "Where is my companion?"

"I didn't seen anyone else. Although there were a lot of markings on the ground from what looked like a scuffle." She told him.

"Who's out here?" Din asked.

The woman froze for a moment. "There's been some activity around the waterfall within the last week."

"Pirates?" Din questioned.

Her glowing eyes latched onto his helmet. "The Spice Runners of Kajimi."

Din's chest tightened. If the Spice Runners discovered who he was, Luke would be in a world of danger. His face was plastered all over the bounty boards, and from what he last saw a few of those were marked "dead or alive." He stood up, rushing toward the door.

"Hey, a thank you would be nice!" The woman yelled after him.

Din froze, hand hovering over the door handle, before turning back toward his host. "How did you know to check the lake?"

The woman's eyes became distant. "I just...felt like I needed to go there." She explained slowly, like she wasn't sure what had brought her there herself. "There was this...feeling. Like the heaviness of desperation was burnt into the air, a silent voice begging for help through the wind..."

Din sucked in a breath.

--Oh, Luke...-- Din thought.

"Thank you for saving me. I have to go." He said, turning back to the door.

"This companion of yours, must be pretty important." She said. Din didn't answer. The woman stared him down, studying him before reaching down into a bag and pulling out a metal cylinder. She tossed it to the Mandalorian. Din caught it, studying the tube. It was Luke's Lightsaber.

"Found that near the lake. This friend of yours. He's one of those jedi." She said. It wasn't a question.

Din stayed silent.

"I used to run with them. I know where their base is." She said.

"Why are you helping me?" Din asked.

The woman turned her head and bit her lip, contemplating what to say. "One of his kind helped me get away from those people when they turned on me. It's only right I return the favor."

"You knew a jedi?" Din asked, stepping toward her.

"A togruta woman. She carries two of those. She was looking for someone, ended up finding me instead..." She reminisced. "But that's a story for another time." She said, making her way toward a drawer against the wall. She reached in, pulling a holomap from it, then handed it to Din. He activated it, the place where Luke was being held glowing before his eyes. He wasn't far. He thanked her again, shaking her hand. She nodded at him. "Go find your jedi."

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Luke's could feel hands on him, shaking him back into consciousness. One was gripping his shirt, the other tapping his face. Someone was trying to wake him up.

"Din?" Luke whispered out, hoping beyond hope.

"He's alive!" Someone yelled. Luke screwed his nose up at the sound.

That wasn't Din's voice.

He was pulled roughly to his knees, the movement jostling his aching body and pulling a cry from his trembling lips.

"You wanna treat us like we're stupid?" The voice said above him, hitting him hard across the jaw. "You wanna pretend you're better than us?" He said again, a knee entering his sternum, causing the jedi to cough, blood mixed with spit falling on the prestine white snow.

"Please..."Luke begged, his body screaming against the assault.

"Oh, now you want to beg? Too late!" The man mocked. "You make a mockery of us, you don't leave alive!" He yelled. Something cold and hard was pressed against Luke's forehead.

"Hey, we may get more credits if he's alive!" Someone yelled from behind Qiler.

"No! You saw that thing he did with the snow! He's too dangerous, I want him dead!" The man screamed, beyond crazed with anger. The barrell was removed from his head, the man grabbing him by the jaw, ripping Luke's head up to look at him as a knife was pressed to his throat. "The only question is if I wanna do it fast or slow." He growled.

Before Qiler could make his desicion, the earth erupted around them.

Single spikes from what seemed to be bombs set off around the perimeter. A row of them cut off Qiler from the rest, seperating the party. Qiler looked around at the disruption before turning his wide, crazed eyes back to the jedi. "What did you do!?" He screamed. Luke was too cold, in too much pain to respond, he tried to shake his head to convey this wasn't his doing this time. Qiler hoisted Luke up by the shirt and flipped him around so that his back was flush against Qiler's chest, knife to his throat as the smuggler backed away from the commotion. Scattered screams echoed incoherently through the blinding snow as whoever was hunting them made their way through the crew.

Using the diversion to his advantage, Luke shoved the man off him with the little amount of Force he could muster, his broken body crumpled to the ground.

Qiler recovered, letting out a frustrated scream as he barrelled after the jedi. He grabbed his ankles and flipped Luke onto his back, pinning his arms above his head and digging a knee into the wound on his side, mounting him. Luke screamed, his voice cracking in the process. The knife was pressed to his throat once again, this time, drawing blood. "Bye bye, jedi." He mocked.

But his threat remained unfinished, thanks to the blaster bullet the just went through his skull. The man fell off Luke with a thump, legs still tangled around his damaged torso.

Luke didn't move, he couldn't anymore. Any adrenaline he had left was sucked dry the second he landed on the ground. He lay there, staining the white snow red like the sands of Crait, shivering so violently it could be mistaken for convulsing. He heard footsteps approaching him. Luke pinched eyes shut, waiting for whoever hunted down the smugglers to do the same to him.

"Luke?"

The jedi's eyes shot open. That voice sounded familiar.

The man kneeled down next to the fallen jedi. Luke gasped, in spite of himself as a familiar helmet came into view. "You're alive?"

Din Djarin nodded. "I told you we were getting off this blasted rock, didn't I?"

Luke's wrecked body finally caught up to him. Every nerve seemed to be frozen over, except for his side which screamed at every movement. He caught a glance at his reflection in Din's visor. His blond hair was thick and frozen, little blond icicles dipped in red from the blood that had pooled around him. His lips were purple, chapped beyond compare. His neck leaked blood from where the knife had pushed in and Luke realized this was the first time he'd ever experienced a murder attempt that was actually a threat since... He couldn't hold back the sob that escaped his mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Luke, this never should of happened. I'm so, so sorry." Din said, voice shaken as he put pressure on the wound, pulling a cry from the younger man. Din shook his head. "Kark that blasted holocron, I'm taking you home."

The Holocron! Luke looked past Din, spotting the artifact still wrapped in the scarf. Luke reached toward it, trying to pull it with the Force. When the thing wouldn't budge, Luke let out a grunt of frustration, trying to sit up. Din pushed him back down. "Luke, enough, please, cyare, enough." He begged, taking Luke's shaking hand in his own.

"No, Din, please, please!" He managed to say, ripping his hand free from Din's, pointing a trembling finger at the wrapped box.

Din glanced back, spotting what had Luke's attention. "I can get another one, it's alright." He said about the scarf, continuing his field medicine.

"No, no! Please!" Luke insisted, wiggling against the pressure on his abdomen, shoving at Din's hands. Din let out a sigh as Luke stubbornly pointed at the scarf again.

"Okay. Okay, cyar'ika, alright. Put pressure on this." He instructed, guiding Luke's frozen hands to his side, pressing them into it. He stood, fingers lingering over the man's wrecked body for a moment, before turning to go. "I'll be right back." He promised.

Luke watched with greying vision as the mandolorian reached down and picked it up. With a sigh of relief, he looked back up at the sky, watching the snow fall lightly around him. He had stopped shivering, something that should have worried him more than it was. He didn't have the energy to care, he was too tired. His eyes slipped closed and he gave into oblivion.

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doiefy · 3 years

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blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems for beta reading this for me !! <333

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Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out, but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles—a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow

#nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #the longest shit ive ever written hoLY SHIT #cznnet

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nonbinarylowkey · 3 years

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collar

Rating: Explicit. MINORS: DO NOT TOUCH! Pairing: Loki/Reader Summary: On the last night of Chanukah, your true love gave to you... a collar. So you decide to test it out. Just, maybe, not in the way he was expecting. Note: Posted this on ao3 a lot earlier in the day, but now that I’m home and can format this properly, it’s finally going up here! Woo! Anyway, the Loki trailer dropped on the first night of Chanukah + the last night of Chanukah was Loki’s birthday so naturally these two things combined in my brain and led to this. Hope you enjoy it! It’s sub!Loki.

Loki Laufeyson looks good in a collar.

Like, criminally good, you think, walking circles around him. You trail your index finger along the top edge of the collar as you go.

He shivers.

Loki kneels on the plush grey carpet of your bedroom floor, knees spread wide to give you the best possible view. His pants are unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. He's not wearing underwear tonight, you discovered when you first started this game, and so the head of his cock peeks out from the open waistband. His hands are restrained behind his back. His shirt never made it to the bedroom.

"I'm waiting," he says when you finish your circle and take your place in front of him.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "And you'll continue to wait until I've decided what to do with you."

"You are a cruel mistress," he shakes his head, but the cheeky grin on his face betrays his somber tone.

You pull the golden leash toward you; Loki falls forward with it, his face nicely cushioned by the area between your thighs. You run a hand through his hair and take advantage of the places where your fingers snag in his curls by pulling his head back so that he is looking straight up at you. Even in this position, defiance colors every inch of him. His shoulders are set back, his spine straight. The set of his jaw is stiff, giving his smile a distinctly sinister look.

You lick your lips.

"If you didn't want me to be cruel, you shouldn't have gotten me a collar for Chanukah."

"Ah, but you were meant to be the one wearing it," he nuzzles his cheek against you.

"But you look so good in it, Mischief. How could I resist?" You kneel down to kiss him, laughing as you catch his grinning lips with yours. Your content to stay like that, sharing breathy laughs with each other while your mouths move against one another. But Loki is not content in one position for very long so when he starts grinding himself against your leg, give a sharp nip to his lip. "Be good for me, please?"

" Goodness is not in my nature."

"Well then, maybe I should break out the strap. Deprive your cock of any fun tonight." You run your finger along the collar again, then press your thumb to his Adam's apple just above it.

His tongue drags a slow trail along his lips.

"Oh, please do deprive me," he says in a tone that lets you know he wouldn't actually consider the strap a deprivation at all.

"Right," you roll your eyes. You glance at the bed behind Loki, looking for inspiration. How to make the God of Mischief behave… "Maybe I should just tie you to the bedpost while I get myself off."

A hiss catches your attention. Loki's teeth are bared now and he's glaring.

Hit the nail right on the head , you think.

You make your way over to the bed, twirling the leash around your finger as you go. The knot you tie the leash into around the post is loose; it's definitely something Loki could undo with little to no effort on his part. But it gets your threat across all the same. You perch on the side of the bed closest to him. One of your hands slips under the waistband of your shorts. You're wet already; the sight of Loki at your mercy ensured that much. Your fingers slip inside your folds easily; an exaggerated moan drives home the idea of what Loki will be missing if he doesn't agree to be good.

He growls.

For a moment, your touch lingers on your clit. You rub slow, gentle circles over it, careful not to work yourself up too much; despite your teasing you weren't going to keep Loki from all the fun. You twist your hand so your thumb continues to press at your clit while you sink two fingers into yourself.

It isn't enough. You grind into your hand, trying to get the same fulfillment from your own touch as you would from Loki. Lower lip caught between your teeth, you groan in frustration.

"You only torment yourself by keeping me tied," he said through gritted teeth. It was a commendable show of restraint that he didn't just break out of his restraints; one you thought you might have rewarded if the game wasn't so amusing.

"Maybe I like torment."

He snorts, "I reiterate: you should be the one in the collar."

"Hush, you," you stick your tongue out at him. It's a decidedly unsexy thing to do. You take your hand out of your shorts and stick your fingers out to him.

Loki takes your fingers into his mouth without question. His gaze burns into yours as his tongue swirls around your digits; he is a man dying of thirst presented with a cool glass of water. When he's gotten all he can from your fingers, he pulls back, teeth dragging across your skin. It makes you feel powerful, even if you have no idea what to do with the power.

"Undress me. No hands," you leave your perch on the bed so that you can hook a finger underneath his collar. You pull his head up; eyes on you. "No magic, either. Just your mouth."

"Is that all?" He asks. Anticipation leaves his breaths heavy; an open mouthed smirk adorns his lips as he tries to keep it under control. The effect is entirely indecent.

Is it too late to give up the game and just let him fuck you?

"It's a start."

In his enthusiasm, Loki manages to get some skin when he latches on to the fabric of your shorts. It stings in the best way, amplifying the want flowing through your body and the drag of his nose as his mouth reveals more of your skin. He abandons your shorts when he reaches your center. He breathes your scent in and presses his nose to your clit, nuzzling.

You suck in a breath. The game dictates that you reprimand him for acting without permission. You don't want to. Instead you pull on his collar to bring him closer, to invite more of his willfulness.

He complies, most eagerly.

Loki's tongue delves deep, reaching places no one else had ever bothered to find. And while he is eager about what he's doing, he makes sure to go slow; to savor every last drop his mouth can find. To torture you. And you're pretty sure he's trying to torture you for even suggesting that he wouldn't get to touch you.

"Fuck, Loki," you moan, gripping his hair tight in your hand.

"Yes, fucking is the goal here," he laughs against you, sending delicious vibrations through your core.

You buck into his mouth. You need more and your body is reaching the limits of its patience. So you push him away and, startled, he falls on his ass. Despite your growing impatience, you do take a moment to admire the sight of him. His face is coated with your wetness, a mark of his passion for the taste of you. The collar and matching leash sparkle in the room's lights and his arms remain restrained behind his back - all evidence of his trust and willing submission to you.

With his hands restrained, he's no help in getting his pants off. You don't bother trying to get them off all the way. Shoving them halfway down his thighs is enough that his cock is fully free. And with his pants out of the way, you straddle him in one breath and only leave the space of one more before you bury his cock into your heat. You tug on his arms.

"Touch me," you demand.

Obediently, he frees his arms of the spell he'd used to restrain them. He runs his hands over your thighs, up your hips and waist, and then retraces that path back down. He touches you everywhere he can reach, memorizing each bump and blemish and stretch of skin that you offer to him. He tangles a hand in your hair, uses the grip to pull you down for a kiss; the fact his face is still covered in your juices is no deterrent for him. He wants you to taste what he does to you, wants to remind you that although he is the only one wearing a collar tonight, you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you.

"Shall we take this to the bed?" He asks. But he doesn't give you the chance to to answer before he's moving the two of you off the floor.

You don't even really manage to follow how he does it. All you know is that one moment the two of you are on the floor and the next your back is hitting the mattress while Loki looms above you.

"I thought I was supposed to be in charge?" You wrap your legs around his waist.

He nuzzles your neck, "Always, my queen. So much so that you needn't use words for me to know what you desire of me."

"Silvertongue," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

All talking stops when he kisses you, open mouthed, and sliding that silvertongue of his against your own. He lines himself up with your entrance, once more burying himself inside of you. It feels like he's come home to you, always; no matter how many times you're together like this, it's a homecoming.

Then he's moving, rolling his hips slowly, deliberately against you at first; you can hardly breathe for the sensation he sparks within your body. But it isn't long before he speeds his movements up. He grows frantic and rough, pushes one of your legs down into the mattress so that he can go deeper inside of you. He swallows each of your cries, keeping the noises he forces from you all for himself. He's selfish, you see, and he wants to keep your moans and shouts and pleas for more all to himself. There are other ways to show the world that you belong to each other; your noises are all for him.

You reach your climax both too soon and too slowly. You try to keep your eyes open, you want to see Loki when you reach your peak. But you're feeling too much. It's all too overwhelming so you squeeze your eyes shut and press your face into his neck because if you can't see him, you can at least try to mold yourself to him so that you never have to be apart.

Loki isn't far behind you. He murmurs desperate I love yous and my queens and other endearment as he comes. You're too far gone to understand the words, but the sentiment comes through all the same when his hips stutter against yours and he spills into you.

Silence falls over the room in the aftermath. His forehead is pressed against yours, breath intermingling in the small space between your faces.

Your fingers fumble with the collar's clasp. When it unlatches, it falls to the floor, forgotten.

"Was I good enough for you, my love?" He falls to his side, maneuvering you until you're lying on your side facing him with his arms wrapped securely around you. One of your legs is propped up on his hip.

You trace his mouth with one finger, "You've certainly got a mouth on you, I'll tell you that."

He smirks and catches your finger with his teeth, nibbling just a little bit on the first knuckle.

"But, yeah, I'd say you were more than good enough," you laugh. "Happy birthday, Lokes."

"Happy Chanukah," he responds.

#loki x reader #sub!loki #loki smut #loki fic #loki fluff #my writing #i'm so bad at tagging fics on here #jewish reader

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littlefreya · 4 years

Text

Nasty

Summary: August is going to hell and he is dragging you down with him. Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person Pov)

Word count: 2.3K

Warnings: Serious smut, GRAPHIC depictions of sexual intercourse, auto-voyeurism (Is that a thing?)

A/N: @luclittlepond made this request! I obliged. Honestly, I feel like it’s the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written and I want to thank @agniavateira for being my beta and @wondersofdreaming for giving me feedback since it was not an easy write for some reason.

Please leave feedback 💖🥺 and more importantly, enjoy.

Title: Nasty

“Unlock the door, my balls are freezing,” August urges while his hands survey the plains of your body possessively. A sharp, languid hiss caresses the sensitive skin of your neck, his deep voice chanting sweet profanities as he grinds himself against you for the sake of heat and lust-filled friction.

The temperature at the narrow corridor must be 10 degrees below zero, quite ordinary for January at St. Petersburg, Russia. Another successful mission came to end; the target was eliminated and sweep-up had been ordered. Now, all August wants to do after a triumphant assassination is to fuck like a deranged animal.

You never doubted the idea that murder gets him hard.

Breathing in fumes, you try to twist the key inside the lock, motoric functions reduced to jitters and tremors as August shoves a finger between your legs, rough and invasive, he journeys from your mound to your ass and presses it crudely. His rock-hard erection nudges at your lower back, reducing your concentration to scattered specks of dust.

“Don’t make me fuck you right here in the hallway,” he warns and slides down to his knees with his talons lifting both your heavy coat and skirt, exposing the round curve of your behind. Teeth as sharp as blades pierce the ample flesh of your cheek and you give out a high-pitched yip of pain which echoes through the entire hallway.

Crying for him to stop would do no good. August doesn’t give an inch. The cold man lacks any sense of tenderness and he has a thing for leaving his marks all over your body, just the way he would brand his livestock. The agent stretches to stand up, shoving himself against your ass while his hands hike the thick hem of your skirt all the way up to your torso.

“If you keep doing that I won’t be able to get it open!” You complain angrily and then finally manage to twist the key inside. The moment the rusty cylinder spins, August whirls the both of you into the apartment and kicks the door shut with his foot.

The small rental smells like wet newspaper and mould. The dusty air becomes saturated with the humidity of sweat and heated pants. Stumbling further inside, you kiss furiously and claw at each other’s throats like two hungry vultures. Your coats fall to the floor, the tight skirt gathers around your abdomen and August’s hand reaches to cup the heat between your legs with the elegance of a raging bull.

Pathetic puny whimpers disappear into the hot cavern of his mouth, impassioned, you writhe against his almost-aggressive intrusion, letting his thumb graze over your covered clit. August Walker’s treatment is borderline degrading, making you feel dirty, baptized in the black bathwater of sin.

You would never let any other manhandle you like this; a tender woman such as yourself requires a gentle hand, not whatever twisted games August wants to play with your body. And still, he brings you closer to heaven than you’d ever wish to admit and those little moments of rapture are worth every bit of shame.

Taking your shoulders in his grip, August pulls you down, knees hitting the stone-cold floor. He follows below, his tongue violating your mouth within moments, low hums singing into your throat while his fingers make quick work at the buttons of your blouse. His breath still tastes of the wine he had earlier, inhaling him is enough to reach intoxication. Tugging his shirt from his trousers, you try to undress him. Buttons fly everywhere as you rip it open with extreme force.

August breaks the kiss with a quick bite on your lip, enough to cause a sharp sting at the soft plush of flesh. Wringing your shoulder, he turns you around and rests a hand on the snake of your spine to bend you over at his will.

“Bitch,” he grunts, shuffling to stand on his knees and fumbling with his belt. Tendrils of shivers coarse through your nerves spiralling cold and eclectic as the distinguished click of metal and husky brush of leather rustle from behind.

“That was my favourite shirt.”

“They all look the same,” you mock him and turn your head back, staring at the focused expression on his face. His brows knit together, a deep scowl forming long creases on his forehead. August gawks at the wet patch in your underwear with dark fascination, his tongue flaking over his lips before his hand reaches to peel them down and collect the arousal that drips between your thighs with long ardent fingers.

A desperate moan escapes the trenches of your throat. His fingers ascending to pry between your folds, pushing inside to test the mysteries of your heat. The callous pads of his fingers stroke the damp, plump flesh, making room for his odious inspection.

“Look at you,” he mocks, corrupting and stretching your desire, pumping in and out until his knuckles glisten with the juices of arousal. “You want my cock badly, don’t you sweetheart?” He murmurs, snapping his fingers to engulf at his thick, endowed erection.

Short spasms of tremoring delights shudder through every cell as he grabs his shaft and slaps it against your swollen lips, grinding rough and vulgar while you buck with harrowing need against the ridges of his cock. He paints himself in your sweet nectar, teasing both your womanhood and the puckered hole that clenches in fear from his monstrous girth.

This fearful reaction never ceases to make him laugh with malice. “Don’t worry, pet, I'm not going in there tonight unless you really want to...”

“Fuck you, Walker,” you spit out, squirming back and forth as August tames your body into submission.

“Oh I’m about to…” he murmurs, dipping the tip of his erection inside you, eliciting powerless mewls as a violent throb gushes through your centre. “I wish you could see how beautiful your pussy looks with my cock entering you.”

Bracing yourself on your arms and knees, you take a deep breath. August indulges what he sees in front of him, taking his time, teasing, torturing and savouring the small hisses that kick out of your chest with every single provoking touch.

“Jesus August, take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Letting out a guttural growl, August pauses his ministrations and you hear a soft ruffle behind you as he seeks for something in his coat which are thrown next to him on the floor. Peering over your shoulder, you indeed see him holding his phone in his hand.

“Are you really taking pictures again?! Walker, just fuck me already!”

“Take your phone and answer,” he commands, ignoring your demand.

Naturally, they mean nothing to him.

You glare at him puzzled when the soft hum of your phone buzzing cuts into your attention. The pale blue light dances on the wooden floor beneath the wool jacket and you reach a hand for it.

Incoming video call from August.

“August wha….?”

“Answer, so I can fuck you already,” he chides, hovering his phone right above your behind with eyes that sparkle with a dark impulse.

Holding the device in front of you, you accept the call. A shiver ticks at your muscles, your limbs shake at the sight of your dripping cunt as it appears on the bright screen. The sensation is vaguely obscene yet August growls with pure excitement, holding his heavy cock in front of the glassy lense. He lines himself against your wanting entrance, making you see through his eyes how he pushes inside, inch by inch, slowly spreading your petals with the width of his velvet pistol and claiming what belongs to him.

The luscious symphony of your moans unearths melodically into the musty atmosphere as the wet friction of your union strikes madness through your bodies. The oxygen gradually drains from your squeezing lungs, mouth agape at the spectacle of August driving large and long through your narrow crevice with an unusually sluggish pace.

Your memories wander for a split second, falling back to the first time you have discovered porn as a teenager and had the same fury burn between your thighs. Only that you didn’t have August to fill that needy void inside your body.

And damn if he doesn’t fill you just right, plunging into your warm lake of Eden, his girth suffocating between your lush cavern, forcing your walls to expand and make room for his huge, pulsating cock.

“See how tight you are?” August asks breathlessly and gives your ass a sharp smack while he bursts into cold, arrogant laughter, amused at the way your cheeks ripple from the might of his slap. “Look at yourself, so small yet taking me like a needy little slut.”

You swallow a gasp, the device dropping from your sweaty palm and landing flat on the ground. Leaning on your elbows you watch with sick fascination at the way August sinks deeper and deeper, delving through your taut cave until his balls press against your clit with an appeased hum that losses from his lips. Your entire body is attacked by spasms of ecstasy, the heights of your desire brought to unearthly plains as August plays with each of your senses.

“Arch your back,” he demands, razing a hand over your spine to force you to a position which serves him a better path. Obediently, you stick your ass higher, head falling between your shoulder-blades with eyes that never dare to shut, too mesmerized by the forbidden image of him sheathed in your depth.

Enthralled by the vision on the screen, you lean with fist clenched tightly, unable to sustain the pathetic little whimpers. Greedy fingers dig into your hip, leaving a parade of purple bruises for August to later be proud, his possessive legacy. He positions your ass on display, his nimble fingers running over the curve with appreciation, squeezing roughly and groaning. Something inside you clicks, as if playing a role in a film, you stir for him, swaying yourself to the eye of the camera and watching the succulent honeyed flower between your legs as it’s pierced raw by August’s hefty cock. It glistens with filth as it exits your body at an agonizing speed.

“August…. Please,” the moans that roll on your tongue are downright pathetic, making August croon at you patronizingly and tick his tongue as if you’ve been misbehaving. Gripping your waist, he restrains you and pulls himself out until nothing but the arrowhead of his cock rests between your folds, he lingers, breath heavy and firm, chest puffing with power as he sinks all the way in with an alarming change of pace until his balls slap rigid against your wetness.

“Do you like watching yourself, being fucked?” he demands to know, beginning to rails you, snarling at the way you are clenching around his shaft, your silken walls welcome him, calling to his body like a siren drawing a sailor to the abyss. And with vamping passion he complies, finding that hidden spot that no one has ever sought inside you, the one that makes you howl out in ecstasy.

“Yes!!! Fuck!” You cry out with shock, knowing you will definitely not last having to witness every dirty act and details in the vista of your eyes. This is August’s doing, forcing pleasure on you in the vilest way possible, overstimulating both body and mind. He is a man free of boundaries, unchained, but he sure as hell shackles you to the darkness that thrives inside him.

He pushes into you raw and steady, grunting low, as he moves with long-lasting thrusts that serve a point of showing you just how fucked you are. Every now and then he pulls nearly completely out and slams painfully back in, just for the sake of entertainment.

Lewd squelching and blunt sounds of skin slapping against skin take over the acoustic of the room, accompanied by the clattering sound of his belt that dangles from his trousers. His pace turns into punishing rhythm, his testicles brushing briefly with your clit, causing you to haul against him with desperate screams. Begging, a whimpering mess, your muscles give in, shuddering and convulsing until your cunt finally tightens around him firmly and the fire engulfs you from within, spreading through you like a burning field as you climax with astonishment.

“Keep your eyes open,” August rasps, watching how you collapse in front of him, trembling and jolting on your knees meekly with tears blurring your eyes while you sob. He ignores your body’s defiance, grunting like a bull as he jackhammers you, going at an impossible speed.

His cock is but a quick smudge as he rails in yet the swelling of his erection and the thick tendons that runs from the base through his length are undoubtfully clear. You see him and feel his thickness between your convulsing walls, your womb welcoming the hot surge that sprouts inside you while August cries out with divine ecstasy.

He continues to pound inside you even after he comes, letting his thick, white juice coat his length and trickle milky drops from your seam down your inner thigh until he is completely drained.

Panting heavily, he collapses on top of your spine, the stubble of his cheek grazing your supple skin while basking in the afterglow of his orgasm. His mobile device drops from his hand, landing with a soft thud as August fights to catch his breath.

“Enjoyed the show, pet?” He asks, kissing the salty sweat off your skin.

You answer with a deep sigh, too ashamed to admit you just had the most intense orgasm you ever experienced.

Lazy fingers trail up to grasp your neck, squeezing it lightly and kneading the strained muscles. He gathers your hair to one side and leans to nibble at your ear with a devious hum.

“So, are you willing to reconsider making a sex tape now?”

___________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or Mission Impossible.

DM me if you want to be removed or add <3

#August Walker #August Walker x Reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #august walker fanfiction

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junicai · 3 years

Text

blue shell.

| summary | Things get serious in the Dreamies dorm when Mark brings over Mario Kart.

| word count | 1.3k

| warnings | not serious contemplation of murder(s)

| era | circa. April 2018

Aria wondered how long she’d go away for if she committed a septuple homicide.

The idea had taken root in the back of her mind several months ago, what with Chenle’s unfortunate habit of rolling while asleep and kicking her off (a) a couch, (b) a bed, and on one miraculous occasion, even a table.

Don’t ask how he managed to get his leg up that high - not even Aria knows. All she remembers is sitting on the edge of the table, perfectly content and minding her own business, before there was a foot being unceremoniously shoved into her back, and then she was on the floor.

The tiles are rather unforgiving, she discovered, when you face plant into them with no chance of stopping yourself from doing so, because you were pre-occupied with trying to not spill hot coffee over yourself and your companion, who had just veritably kicked her out of her sitting position moments beforehand.

Aria ended up with a bruised cheek, for her attempts, and Chenle still wouldn’t admit that he’d done it - claiming that she must have just fallen off herself. If she didn’t know any better, Aria would claim that Chenle had done it while he was awake, just out of spite.

He has resided at the bottom of her “Rescue In Case Of Fire” list ever since.

Donghyuck let out a great whoop of victory from his position in the middle of the living room floor, as his character - Baby Yoshi, in the tall booster seat car that he insisted didn’t give him an advantage, but Aria could swear that thing had a smaller turning circle than the rest of them - crossed the finish line, a large gold 1st coming to hang over Yoshi’s head.

He sat back in his seat, looking altogether too smug for someone who had just cheated his way into a victory. His remote dangling from the wrist-strap that Jeno insisted they all used for the WII remotes (there was an incident, Aria knows, with one of the remotes and a now-broken vase), Donghyuck’s little half smirk had never been more infuriating to Aria.

She had been leading the race for the better part of two laps, racing around Shy Guy Beach with a banana trailing behind Toad’s little cart in reserve. The finish line had been within her sights, and she was already beginning to settle back into the cushions, prepared to royally gloat her way through the rest of the evening before the unimaginable happened.

Renjun, steadily clinging onto 4th place but encroaching on Jeno’s 3rd, gave a cry of excitement. There was a whooshing sound -

And then Toad exploded in a cloud of blue.

Spinning out of control, Aria fumbled with the buttons uselessly, knowing there was nothing she could do to salvage her position but trying fruitlessly anyway.

She sat back, stunned and betrayed, as Donghyuck brushed past her and crossed the finish line smoothly - avoiding the loose banana peel that Toad had lost during his spin-out. The dust of the beach was kicked up by Yoshi’s booster kart wheels, and Aria found herself cursing the animators as Toad literally coughed in the cloud.

Was there much more in the world that could humiliate her so?

Perhaps that thought in itself, had been the tipping point of Aria’s spectacular downfall.

With her mouth dropped open, she watched as Renjun and Jeno passed - neck and neck - Jisung bringing up the tail end before Toad finally got himself under control again and pushed himself off into motion again. His kart was slow - slower than she wanted it to be, but they were moving and picking up speed.

He barely made it two feet.

A green shell crashed into the back of Aria’s cart, Toad flipping forward and stopping again, waving his hands around in protest. Mark flashed a cheeky grin at Aria from where he was perched on the edge of the coffee table in the centre of the room, zooming past Toad with Daisy snatching 5th place from beneath Aria’s nose.

She let out an aggrieved shout, dropping her controller in her dismay. “Mark!”

He couldn’t even have afforded her the dignity of being taken out by a red shell? No! He had to use the green ones, the ones you can actually escape if you have the speed and space to do so.

“Sorry,” He apologized, looking distinctly un-sorry.

Mark moved down the “Fire Save” list to just above Chenle.

With her controller on the floor, slid somewhere in between the throw pillows that had been kicked off by Chenle an hour earlier, Aria was forced to sit back and watch as Chenle chased Peach over the finish line, Bowser letting out a commiserating roar as he secured 7th place after Jaemin who took 6th with Princess Peach at the helm.

The race ended, 7 out of 8 players having crossed the finish line and one remaining stationary - 2.3 seconds away from the finish line.

With the sweet dulcet sounds of too-peppy Mario Kart music that was really beginning to give Aria a headache playing through the speakers; pandemonium broke out.

“You cheat!”

“It wasn’t me! That was hyung!” An incriminating finger was pointed at Renjun, who in turn threw a betrayed hand to his chest. “Sung! I thought we had a pact!”

“A pact?!” Aria’s voice grew in both volume and pitch. “So it’s true!” She spun to face the others, all who had been tossing the blame back and forth, while rolling about in fits of laughter. “You’ve all been plotting against me!”

“Never!”

“NO!”

“How could you accuse us of such a heinous crime?”

Their protests were heavily undermined by the fact that they were all holding their sides in pain from laughing too hard, and each of them wore a face-splitting grin. Aria narrowed her eyes at them all, glaring.

“Come on, noona!” Chenle goaded, straightening up momentarily only to flop back down onto Aria, bringing her into the impromptu cuddle pile that the others were forming on the floor.

She landed with an oof, and was going to apologize before realizing that it was, in fact, landed on Donghyuck. She only felt slightly bad for the elbow that landed in his stomach, then.

“You promised us dinner.” Donghyuck wheezed out, clutching at his ribs.

Scrap that. Aria didn’t feel bad at all.

“Wh-”

“’Loser buys dinner.’ I believe those were your words, Riri.” Jaemin grinned at her from his horizontal position stretched out over both Mark and Jeno.

Aria sighed a long suffering sigh, pinching the bridge off her nose. Muttering underneath her breath, she began attempting to extract her arm from Chenle’s vicious grip, before she was stopped by Renjun’s hand on her wrist.

“Or,” He began, and honestly Aria should have known better than to trust the mischievous twinkle in his eye but goddamnit she only had so much in her bank account at the moment. “We could go best out of three, and loser gets dinner tonight and tomorrow.”

Her credit score begged her to take the deal. She could feel her credit card crying out for her to accept, and to form an alliance with one of the conniving devils that she calls groupmates.

Aria wondered, again, how long was the jail time for multiple homicides.

Not long at all, if she didn’t get caught, she supposed.

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sluttyminghao · 3 years

Text

say my name | k.sy

w.c: 1.5k request: if you’re still taking requests i think soonyoung and dry humping would be super hot 👉🏽👈🏽 genre: smut pairing: soonyoung x reader (tried to make it as gender neutral as possible) warnings: dry humping, sir kink if ur not into that, uhh nothing else really? a/n: sorry the word count was a little low for this one, but i hope you like it regardless! (i have written this with 0 sleep so i hope it’s fine hehe)

It had started off as a quiet Saturday in with your boyfriend Soonyoung; neither of you had work and it was a day off together that was rare, since both of you were generally very busy and were hardly home at the same time.

Not being home at the same time also meant that your sex life had been lacking in recent weeks, and you were both feeling the side effects of this problem. It was only when you had both settled down on the couch together and gotten comfortable that you had realized how desperate you were for his touch.

As you leant into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, you began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, causing him to give u a quick glance and a quirk of his eyebrow. You gave him a smile back and a quick peck on his jaw, which, while only seeming innocent to you, was making arousal begin to stir within himself.

He tried to push past it though, not knowing if you were really up to doing anything in that moment. His pants were beginning to feel a little tight he noticed, to which he deeply swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to adjust himself so that you couldn't see his slowly growing erection.

At first you hadn't noticed, keeping your eyes trained to the television in front of you both. But it became harder and harder for you to ignore it, with the way his hand was gently squeezing your shoulder and he kept twitching and shifting every few seconds or so. A small glance down and you confirmed what you already knew; he had a rock hard erection, which he was desperately trying to ignore.

Without moving your eyes from the television, you moved a hand towards his crotch, his eyes trained on your hand, perplexed at what your next move would be. His breathing had hitched the closer you got to his erection, sucking in a large breath when you began to palm him softly.

“Fuck...that feels so good baby...”

His voice had gotten husky which sent a pool of arousal straight to the pit of your stomach, and only spurred you on to push against his erection harder, a small whine escaping his lips as you did so. His head had now fallen back against the headrest of the lounge chair, letting you continue your ministrations on him. He was loving every second of this, and wasn't complaining when you climbed into his lap to straddle him either.

He was however, a little whiny when you pulled away from his now hardened cock.

“So...I have an idea on something we can try Soonyoung”

He moved his head up and glanced up at you through his blond bangs, eyes as dark as the night sky, eyebrow cocking once again, as if telling you to continue. You slowly ground against his cock, a loud gasp leaving his lips and a smirk becoming plastered on yours, as you watched his head drop back onto the head rest from the stimulation.

“Maybe...we could try some dry humping? Just for something different of course”

His head shot back up to look at you after you spoke, your cheeks beginning to glow red as a smirk now appeared on his face and he grabbed your hips tightly with his hands, sure to leave marks on them. He pulled you in as close as he possibly could, his lips ghosting over yours as you both breathed heavily, drinking in each others presence.

“If that’s what my baby wants, let’s do it”

Before you could even blink you were flipped over on the couch, the cushions now resting comfortably against your back, while Soonyoung was hovering over you; one arm resting near your head while the other snaked it’s way down your chest and stomach, to meet your clothed core.

His smirk only grew as you let out a small whimper, his fingers moving slowly against the thin clothing that was only creating friction as he sped up his pace. Watching your eyes roll back as he continued dancing his fingers over your core, he felt himself get even harder, if it was at all possible. With the way you were whining even louder now just from his fingers dancing across your body, he was sure he could cum untouched from just the sounds you were making.

He moved his hand away from your crotch only for you to whine out at the loss of contact, making him chuckle before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss was full of fervour, leaving you breathless and wanting more at the same time. His tongue teasingly licked across your mouth, and you allowed him inside, letting your tongues explore each other as you both got more heated the more you made out with each other.

He decided after a while that you were both wearing too many clothes, so he moved away from your lips to discard his shirt and sweatpants, but leaving his boxers on, erection prominent through the fabric. You hadn’t even noticed you were staring until him laughing pulled you from your thoughts, his hands quickly moving to remove your shirt and pants also and leaving you in just your underwear, him sucking in a breath at the sight.

“Like what you see huh? I don't blame you”

The crimson colour that was painted on your face earlier that night had come back at his comment, and he laughed again, kissing you roughly and moving his hands back down towards your lower body, hands working their magic on you once again until your whines and whimpers had turned into moans and he felt satisfied that you were ready.

He slowly pushed his groin against yours, loud moans being emitted from you both, as he started a slow grind against you, feeling everything press against you as he did so. The feeling was like nothing else, you weren't even sure why you hadn't done this with him earlier, considering how good it made you both feel.

Soonyoung groaned out as he rolled down onto your crotch again, moving his neck down to leave marks on your neck and chest; little purple blossoms that would be left there for days, or until he was able to re-mark you of course. Soon enough he had picked up a steady rhythm of grinding and thrusting against you, sweet moans coming from the both of you from the newly discovered friction.

“Sir...please make me cum”

The words flowed from your mouth before you could stop them and just as you clamped your hand over your mouth, Soonyoung moaned even louder and thrust particularly rough onto your covered groin, before leaning down and leaving some even bigger marks that would be more difficult to hide.

“That's it baby, say my name”

He was thrusting against you harder and rougher than before, his hands moving from the bedsheets to your hips to gain a new angle, before grinding and thrusting against you even more, practically ripping a scream from your mouth as the friction was beginning to send you tumbling over the edge of your orgasm.

“Sir! Please make me c-cum...you always make me cum s-so g-good!”

Those were the words that through him over the edge and sent him into a frenzy, a growl ripping from his throat as he thrust against you one last time as he came into his boxers, a wet spot seeping through and leaving a dark mark against the light fabric. As he kept stuttering through his orgasm, he was able to send you into a flurry of white light and stars as your orgasm ripped through you with just one more love bite to the neck, a scream emitted from your lips as it crashed over you.

When your highs were calming down, Soonyoung collapsed onto you chest, both of you breathing quite heavily still as you calmed down from one of the greatest orgasms you had both shared. He looked up at you from his position on your chest, and gave you the biggest and most playful smile he could muster. His eyes had returned to their gorgeous brown and his hair was so fluffy and mussed that you couldn't resist carding your fingers through it, his smile getting bigger as you did so.

“That was amazing, great idea baby”

You smiled in response as he slowly removed himself from your chest, allowing you to inhale a deep breath of cold air that was welcomed greatly into your lungs. As he stood up and stretched, you were able to admire his lean body, which he noticed and got shy of, slightly covering his abdomen. You rolled your eyes as you sat up on the couch, before pulling him back in for a deep kiss, full of love and adoration.

“It was a great idea wasn’t it? Maybe we have another round on the bed this time?”

His jaw immediately dropped as you walked out of the room, hips swaying as you did so and throwing a sultry wink back at him before heading towards your bedroom. He didn’t have to think twice before rushing after you and tackling you onto the bed, giggles escaping your lips as you began another round of fun.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #soonyoung smut #hoshi smut #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop drabble #kpop scenario #soonyoung imagine #soonyoung scenario #soonyoung drabble #hoshi scenario #hoshi imagine #hoshi drabble #kpop #smut #seventeen

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andraaste · 3 years

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I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 12

Chapter 12 is heeeere ! It's been a long time, but I sincerely hope you will like it 💕💕💕

Chapter 12 : Aengels are the most powerful breed Eldarya has ever known

" My angel "

My heart skipped several beats at the hearing of this unexpected nickname. I tried to regain my composure as I looked away from his, squeezing my legs a little tighter against me.

- It should not be so bad, I just need to learn to use it again. I don't want to bother Eweleïn for so little, I say more to try to convince myself.

Without a word, Lance stood up and patiently extended his hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, realizing my nakedness under the sheets I held tightly, as well as the light that now dimly lit the room, but his calm gaze finally decided me to trust him. Nervously, I let go of the thin fabric to wrap my fingers around his, still clamping an arm around my chest as he guided me to the large mirror that adorned one of the walls of my bedroom. Gently grabbing my shoulders, he turned my back to it and, taking another from the cabinet, he slid it into my palm made slightly sweaty by the anxiety that was driving me. The lump in my stomach, I inhaled several long seconds while plunging into his calm gaze, in which I saw the support I needed to finally face what terrified me. But my breath caught in my throat as my eyes drifted to the small psyche between my fingers.

With horror, I discovered that the entire center of my back was covered with bruises ranging from yellow to dark purple, running from between my shoulder blades to the end of my rib cage. My skin seemed mutilated, totally bruised. Since when had this become so alarming ? Tracing long uneven and voluminous lines, two misshapen bumps indicated the shape of my wings which had remained stuck during my nightmare.

I couldn't understand it anymore, it was as if my body categorically refused the blood of faery in it.

These marks repelled me.

A tear fell down my cheek again without my being able to control it, dark thoughts invading my foggy mind. But what the hell was I doing here? I was clearly not an Eldaryan and my body had reminded me of this every day since I woke up from the Crystal!

Lost in the murky stream of my thoughts, I didn't notice the dragon moving in my direction. With a slow gesture, he surprised me by coming to capture with his cold fingers the salty taste which descended the slope of my cheek.

- Please don't cry Andraste, he said softly before pausing briefly, his face serious. I am sincerely sorry that I did not understand everything that was happening to you, but I promise you that we will find a solution to all of this.

His eyes, not letting go of me for a moment, expressed a determination familiar to him.

- And I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier.

- You couldn't have known, it's nothing, I said with a weak smile at his sheepish look. And then, it was I who literally jumped on you.

An amused pout appeared on his face, which relaxed me slightly.

- It's true, I couldn't do anything to defend myself. I was helpless.

I burst into a frank laugh that Lance didn't seem to want to miss. Grinning broadly, he grabbed my t-shirt sent to the corner of the room and approached me before pulling the collar over my head.

- Let's go to sleep now, it's late.

I put the top wisely under his gentle gestures. Walking towards the bed, I watched curiously as he turned off the light.

Was he going to stay with me tonight ?

Slipping under the sheets, I felt him with some relief join me in the bed. Turned in his direction, I remained stoic not quite knowing what to do. Granted, we had kissed, but what about now that the moment was over ?

Answering my internal questions, Lance grabbed one of my hands and rested it on his chest, crossing his long fingers with mine.

My God, I didn't dare to move.

He then slipped an arm under his neck and lost himself for a moment in contemplating the ceiling. I took the opportunity to observe him. In the surrounding darkness, I could tell the white scar that marked his right nose. I detailed his features, both thin and hard, before dwelling on his full mouth.

I could still smell the fresh taste of his lips on mine.

Catching me off guard, he suddenly brought my hand to his face and kissed it, as light as a feather.

- Goodnight, my Angel.

I smile stupidly at the hearing of this nickname which I was already taking a liking to.

For the first time in several weeks, I think I finally fell asleep with peace of mind, slight tingling running through our palms coiled against each other.

***

Sitting on the infirmary's auscultation table, I nervously clenched and unclenched my fists on my removed garment as I guessed Eweleïn's eyes watching me quietly, her fingers tracing the same path as the dragon's for a few hours earlier. A violent shiver ran through me when she touched the sensitive part of my back, making me close my eyelids in the face of the shame that overwhelmed me due to my pitiful physical state. I couldn't stand those looks that reminded me of my alarming weakness.

Straightening up, my nurse sas silent for several long seconds, further increasing my stress level. The elf walked around the table and stood in front of me, looking serious.

- Andraste, why didn't you come to see me earlier ? she asked me, her tone both soft and bossy.

What could I answer ? That I was once again too fragile, too weak to bear the weight of my own origins ?

- I don’t know. At first it wasn't so alarming, but then...

I don’t finish my sentence. In truth, I had no excuse. I had only closed my eyes to the situation, no longer able to bear to appear so weak in the eyes of others as well as my own. It was grueling...

- You know that this is not your fault ? she said to me, reading me like an open book. You've lived as a human much longer than you did during Freezing, and all that time spent in the Crystal has completely disrupted your metabolism. It's not weakness, it's just your body trying to adjust.

- But why was it that before, I managed to use my powers and my wings naturally ? I almost got carried away. I hadn't been on Eldarya for a long time, yet it didn't hurt like it does now.

- I know my dear, she said with a sad look. You'll have to get your body used to it all again. I think your wit has a lot to do with it, too.

She pulled up a chair and sat down across from me, her slow, gentle movements decidedly appeasing me despite the circumstances.

- You just woke up after seven years of absence and you realize that people have erected you to the rank of goddess savior of their world. Isn't it quite normal to feel too much pressure from others ? The Crystal Hall, even since you both woke up, has become a hall of worship. In addition, you have experienced events that are very hard to bear psychologically speaking. You need to move forward at your own pace and I think your body is trying to make you understand it subconsciously.

I pondered her words. It was true that I felt the weight of people's gaze and that I no longer felt at all comfortable in the presence of people. I felt like something was constantly expected of me, that I had to show them that I was the one they had been praying for over the past few years. That I was worthy of their expectations.

Except that I was none of that. I had certainly fought Lance and had the blessing of the Oracle, but what more did I have as a person ?

Nothing. I had nothing more.

- Lance told me that you were able to use your powers again. It's a very good thing, soon you will be able to stick your wings out like a perfect aengel, believe me.

A gentle smile lit up her face as a result of those words. I wanted her to tell me the truth. That one day, I can feel this faery part in me as naturally as my human part.

Except that it wasn’t won.

The elf plunged her eyes into mine again and, grabbing my hands, she grabbed my attention.

- Honey, as far as we know, the aengels are the most powerful race Eldarya has ever known. You probably have a power so powerful inside you that you automatically reject it, but when you have learned to harness it, I can guarantee that you will finally feel completely yourself. I know how much you doubt yourself right now, and it's completely understandable given the reactions of your body, but I know that you will get better very quickly and learn to deal with your new condition.

She then slowly let go of my hands and stood up nimbly. Deep inside me, her words touched me more than I expected. I was amazed at how true she was about my condition and the way I see things now. Eweleïn was truly the most amazing person I knew.

- But for now, I'm going to give you a cream that will soothe your muscles and your back tension, she finally concluded.

Walking towards a table containing various creams and medicines, she grabbed a jar containing a mixture probably of her own making and, standing behind me, she spread with her delicate fingers the cold product all over the affected area of my back. The elf was right, the concoction immediately relaxed my tight skin, easing the pressure pulsing on my muscles.

- Thank you Eweleïn, I breathed calmly. I don't know how I will do without you.

- Indeed, I wonder how you would do without me, she laughs sincerely. You can go now, but you'll have to come back tomorrow for me to see the healing progress.

Replacing my clothes on my back made sticky by the cream, I was about to get up when the elf stopped my gesture.

- For the resorption of your wings, I'm sorry but I can't do anything more. It will probably be a while before this phenomenon stops, but I understand that Lance has volunteered for your training. You know, he has wings too, maybe he can help you with that problem.

At the utterance of the dragon's first name, a diffused heat ran through my stomach. I could feel my heart race as a thin smile stretched the lips of my interlocutor.

I was sure she suspected something. Nothing seemed to escape this woman, especially not my emotions.

With a much lighter heart, I closed the door to the infirmary behind me and huffed loudly. Despite everything, this interview with Eweleïn had done me the greatest good. I felt relieved, as if weighed down by a weight that had choked me for days.

Walking down the hall, I heard noise coming from the side of the Council Chamber. Catching my gaze, I found Nevra standing not far from me. The vampire walked in my direction, making my heart beat even faster.

- Hello, Andraste. Are you coming out of the infirmary again ?

My teeth gritted at his remark, to say the least, out of place, I was a little too upset to argue with him today.

- Hello, Nevra, I replied defensively. What is this sudden interest in my presence worth to me ? You seemed to rather avoid me, these last few weeks.

Blown away by my answer, he exhaled loudly before visibly trying to ease the tension.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.

- It's funny, I just thought that you were trying to be disagreeable. Finally, it is probably me who wins me again.

Turning on my heels, I started down the stairs when the vampire's hand grabbed my wrist.

- They weren't empty words, Andraste. I am really sorry.

I remained resolutely turned towards the hall of the room of the doors, not wishing to face his gaze when I already felt my tears ready to resurface. I really had to work on my emotional management.

- It's not the first time you've apologized, yet we're still at the same point, I said weakly. Let me go, please.

Despite my request, the young man didn’t move a millimeter. I felt he wanted to add something, but what ? He finally resolved to let go, changing his attitude yet again.

- Your bodyguard isn't with you, this time ?

I felt all the bitterness in his voice. No, he was not allowed to play it to me like that, not after all the animosity he had offered me after my waking up.

- At least, he doesn't spend his time pretending I don't exist.

Without a glance in his direction, I hurtled down the steps to the forge. I really needed to externalize all the conflicting feelings that were literally eating me up. I had to let off steam, find something to relieve myself.

Slamming the door open, I slammed into a chest that I now knew pretty well.

Lance grabbed my arm before I found myself knocked down by the force of his body.

- Everything all right, Andraste?

No, it wasn't.

Why did I want to kiss him every damn time I saw him ?

(Chapter 13)

#eldarya #eldarya new era #i am not your enemy #eldarya lance #eldarya fanfic #eldarya writing #writing #beemoov #ashkore #lance eldarya #lance

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khaotic-kitsunes · 3 years

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Travelling Alpha

This was originally gonna be headcanons but then, uhhh...I was writing them and um, I got carried away and since the headcanons read similar to a scenario I just went through them and wrote it out like a scenario properly.

But yay??? This is yet another request off my list completed and my progress is going fantastically! I’m actually super happy about that if you couldn’t already tell haha

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing it and it was different to what I usually write, which made it super fun! Have yourself a great day, be sure to let me know what you think!

🥃 AO3 🥃 || ✉️My Askbox✉️ || 💬Discord💬

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

Eijiro let out a low groan as he stretched his arms up above his head, sore from the uncomfortable way he had slept the night prior; it had been exactly half a year since he had left his old pack so that he could travel and see the world. Six long months of nothing but himself and the wilderness, but after coming from a busy pack life and caring for everyone as the pack’s Alpha; it was a hard adjustment to make.

One positive that he could list was that he found himself more relaxed since leaving. There weren’t as many things to stress and worry over, the things that he did need to worry about were easily solved; simple things like food, water and shelter.

Another would be that like today, he could wander around with little to no care about where he was going or where he would end up at the end of the day; Eijiro could simply enjoy his surroundings. The fresh scent of the surrounding forests, the cool Spring breeze that washed over him every now and then; the peaceful sound of the wildlife going about their day.

He could enjoy every moment of it without worrying about anything other than himself and that was something he wouldn’t trade away, not unless he had a good reason to. This was the kind of lifestyle he could get used to if given enough time.

Eijiro turned his head to the side as he stopped walking, picking up a sound that he hadn’t heard for a long time; the sound of crying. Soft sniffling and hiccups, a sound that no decent Alpha ever took pleasure in hearing.

Which meant that he would have to investigate it, even if he had been enjoying his morning journey.

“Hello?”

Eijiro called out curiously, grumbling to himself when there was no reply before moving to follow after the sounds of sobbing slowly; not wanting to startle whoever he might find.

He found you relatively quickly, discovering you hidden amongst the large roots of an old tree; your sobbing so much louder now that he was standing so close to you, the sound making his chest ache with empathy for you.

“Miss…?” Eijiro moved closer as he spoke quietly, crouching in front of you and causing you to jolt in surprise; wide, teary gaze meeting his own concerned stare. He knew that he shouldn’t have approached you like that, without making you aware of him before he moved closer; but it was always harder to resist his instincts on the day of a full moon.

Eijiro would shift the moment the sun went down, but for now, he had to make do with any actions he made based on instinct alone.

“W-Who are you?”

“Eijiro Kirishima…miss, what’s wrong? Why are you crying out here alone? Who are you?”

He frowned when you averted your gaze, curling up to make yourself look smaller than you already did; it was a bad sign in his eyes. Then again, finding such a beautiful woman out in the wild alone without anyone around was a bad sign in general; packs would usually send people out in pairs, for safety.

“…I didn’t wanna be his mate…so I was rejected from my pack, they kicked me out…all because of him…” Your whimpered out words had his blood run cold, eyes widening in shock despite only having a brief explanation of your situation; though it was hard not to be shocked. To be kicked out because you had rejected someone was ridiculous.

“…What’s your name?” He repeated a part of his question, using a gentle tone with you so that he wouldn’t upset you more than you already were; even doing his best not to reach out and comfort you as his instincts were calling for.

“(Name).” He nodded slowly at your response before standing back up to his feet and taking a few steps away from you, giving you the space that he thought you might need; brushing himself off of the dirt that had somehow managed to get on him.

“Well (Name), how would you like to travel with me? I haven’t got a pack at the moment either, so having you around would be great!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You let out a soft whine of effort as you rolled onto your back, stretching out and arching your back; feeling the way your muscles trembled from the action, any soreness you felt from the previous night fading away for a few blissful seconds.

“Mornin’ beautiful” Eijiro’s deep greeting made you smile as you rolled back over, colliding with his muscled chest and causing his arms to snake around your waist immediately; holding you close to his warm body, showering your neck with feather-light kisses.

“Isn’t it a bit early to start with the compliments Eiji?” You shuddered as you spoke, letting your head lull to the side while he snickered in response to your question; nipping over the bonding mark he had left on you the night prior during the full moon.

Funnily enough, yesterday had been a full year since you met the protective Alpha that you now called your partner; and you had loved the way you had celebrated it with him.

“It’s never too early to start telling the truth (Name)” You rolled your eyes at his words, rolling in his embrace to face him; pressing your lips up against his own. Anything to stop his teasing touches to the still-sensitive bonding mark.

“Uh-huh…whatever you say” You hummed softly, pulling away from the kiss and letting out a quiet giggle when his head followed after you, eager to continue the morning greeting that you had given him. Though you had other plans.

“Come back here…” Eijiro trailed off into a playful growl as you managed to escape his hold, quickly moving about to gather the clothes that you had thrown everywhere the previous night right before sunset; the easiest way to avoid having them shredded to absolute bits.

“Don’t even think about it. That can wait until tonight…didn’t you say you had somewhere you wanted to take us?” You glanced down at Eijiro, pulling your clothes on leisurely while he watched your every move; making no move to hide the hunger in his crimson gaze, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yeah…right, now that you mention it” Eijiro paused, sitting up with a quiet groan, reaching back to rub at his sore muscles before getting up to his feet; approaching you despite still being naked himself.

“What would you say if I said I wanted to take us back to my old pack” You frowned at his words, tilting your head to the side while you allowed him to wrap his arms around you; an innocent enough embrace for the moment.

“Your old pack…? I’m not sure Eiji…” He smiled at your hesitance, leaning down to nuzzle against your neck tenderly, a quiet hum of content building in his chest; causing you to relax almost instantly, enjoying the low rumble.

“Aw, come on (Name)…let me take you there! I could introduce you to everyone, plus they’re bound to love you. I mean, you did manage to steal the heart of their ex-Alpha and that’s one of the biggest reasons I left”

“Wait, what? You were…you used to be the Alpha of a pack?”

Eijiro nodded his head in confirmation at your question, rubbing your hips before moving to get dressed; sensing that it might be a good idea if he were dressed.

“When were you gonna tell me?” He shrugged in response to your question, glancing back at you while pulling on the pants he had been wearing yesterday; seemingly confused as to why you seemed to be so surprised about his past.

“Is it important? I’m not that man anymore.” You opened your mouth to respond with a sharp remark before deciding better and closing your mouth, shaking your head to answer his vaguely curious question. Eijiro was right, he wasn’t that man anymore, so theoretically it shouldn’t bother you.

“No, never mind…alright, fine. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to go see your old pack” You sighed out quietly in defeat, soon letting out a squeal of laughter when Eijiro lifted you up into his hands; spinning around with you. A large grin on his features.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“So, you’re the woman my son has fallen for then?”

You gulped nervously as you stared at Eijiro’s mother with wide eyes, Eijiro himself standing close behind you with his hands on your hips; keeping you in place so that you couldn’t run away from the terrifying woman in front of you.

“Yes…I um, I suppose that would be me?” You managed a small smile as the rough looking woman continued to stare at you, relaxing only when a kind smile stretched across her crimson stained lips; however, the moment was short lived since his mother reached out and pulled you to her chest.

She wasted no time with smothering you with her love and adoration, a complete personality swap compared to the stone-faced woman that greeted you when you first arrived with Eijiro a few hours earlier.

“Don’t crush her mum!” Eijiro laughed heartily as he watched the two of you interact together, moving to sit on the nearby couch since there was no longer any need for him to keep you steady in front of his mother.

“Oh hush up Eijiro! You’ve been gone for nearly two years and now that you’re home, you’ve brought back this adorable mate! I’m entitled to be a little excited!” His mother’s reasoning had you laughing along with her, soon returning her loving embrace before retreating back towards Eijiro the moment she released you.

Even if she didn’t scare you anymore, you didn’t want to come out of the visit with broken bones; Eijiro’s side seemed like the safest place to be.

“I told you I was sorry about that!”

“And I told you that you weren’t forgiven until you give me grand-babies to cuddle!”

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karmasuna · 4 years

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— 𝘀��𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲

+ kaminari denki. fluff, wc: 1.7k

kaminari discovers the wonders of a skincare fridge during his study session with you.

“you’re telling me we’re allowed to have mini fridges in our rooms and no one told me?!”

“stop talking and focus on the math,” you scold, tapping his arm with your pen to get him to focus. instead, he gets up and goes to your desk, peering at the fancy little fridge.

“not until you tell me how the hell you got this thing in here without iida noticing. last time i tried to smuggle a fridge into my room it got confiscated, and now it’s permanently in the staff room.” kaminari sounds so unnaturally serious that it makes you chuckle, muttering something about how only he would try something as dumb as that.

deciding that it was time for a break anyways, you throw your pen down and head towards him. “it’s a skincare fridge, silly. you don’t put food in it,” you explain, swinging the small door open to show him the contents.

“woah. you use everything in here on your face?” he picks up a fancy looking bottle, peering at the strange contents inside. you hum, plucking the bottle out of his hands and returning it to its spot. “careful with that, it’s the most expensive thing i’ve ever bought for myself. so if you break it don’t expect to come back here ever again.”

“wow, i really thought you trusted me.” kaminari pouts at you, making you laugh.

“‘course i do,” you reply easily, pulling out a smaller bottle from the surprising depths of the fridge. “but i don’t even trust myself to hold it. if i dropped it i would be devastated.”

kaminari’s glad you’re not looking him, instead focused on shuffling through your drawer. he doesn’t want you seeing the faint blush on his cheeks instead of the usual goofy smile, a little surprised at how easily and casually you had admitted to trusting him.

you let out a satisfied ah! as you finally find the hairbands you were digging for. “i knew i had an extra one in there.”

“why would you need headbands right now-“ he’s cut off by you shushing him, pulling out the chair under the desk and pushing him into it so that you can reach his head. “ask less questions and just enjoy the moment, sparky.”

and he’d be damned if he wasn’t enjoying the moment. you’re so close to him he can practically smell your shampoo, pushing the hairband into his hair and pushing it back before doing the same with your own.

“skincare break,” you announce, pulling him towards the bathroom. “wash your face and we can do a sheet mask.”

“aren’t those things expensive though?” kaminari asks as he pats his face dry with a towel you’d offered him. all he gets is a shrug in return as you swing the door of the fridge open, pulling out two packets and gesturing for him to sit back down in the chair, you settling down on your bed across him.

“it’s alright,” you hold out the masks for him to choose, “i wouldn’t buy them if i wasn’t planning on using ‘em. besides, i don’t mind if it’s you.”

god, you really need to stop saying things that drive his heart crazy. kaminari seems to contemplate your words for a moment before plucking one of the packets out of your hands. following your actions he rips the packaging open, watching as you open the sheet and applying it to your face with practiced ease.

“c’mon, put yours on too,” you mumble, trying not to let the mask shift around from your taking. nodding he reaches into the packet, shuddering at the strange consistency of its contents.

“why is it so slimy?” kaminari doesn’t seem as enthusiastic about your little skincare date anymore, eyeing the sheet suspiciously.

letting out a small chuckle you feign annoyance, rolling your eyes and taking the mask from him. “don’t move when i put it on or you’ll waste all of my money,” your murmur, dragging his chair closer to you with your foot.

and suddenly you’re so close to him again, holding him down with your elbow and peeling the mask open. “you don’t have to be so embarrassed about it, you know,” you chuckle, poking at his red cheek, “i already have the mask on, so we can be ugly together.”

“you’ll never be-” kaminari begins to say something, but is cut off by you suddenly moving the mask towards him. without warning you press the mask onto his face, laughing when he lets out a unholy screech, a flash of electricity going to his hair and charging it with static.

grumbling about how that was unfair he pouts , eliciting another giggle from you as you tip your head back and allow yourself to fall back onto the mattress. “It wasn’t that bad, you big baby. you’ll learn to get used to it.”

kaminari’s pretty sure it wasn’t the main point but all he can focus on is the fact that you’d called him baby. maybe not in the way he’d wanted, but nonetheless he’s still happy about it. humming in agreement with your statement, you fall into a comfortable silence, waiting for the mask to do its magic.

“hey.”

“yeah?” you don’t get up from your position on the bed, swinging your legs onto kaminari’s lap.

“this is nice.” you hum in agreement, a small content smile creeping onto your face. under your feet you feel kaminari shift, trying to find a comfortable position to stretch his legs out.

“i don’t mind if you wanna come lie down,” you mumble, patting the empty space next to you.

“you sure?” although his tone is hesitant, he wastes no time in standing up and shuffling towards you, keeping his face tipped towards the ceiling, worried the mask might slide off if he moves too much.

“yep.” the bed dips from his weight, a little sigh escaping his lips as he stretches his limbs out, the motion akin to that of a cat.

the only sounds between you are your quiet breaths, falling into sync and slowing along with your heartbeats. it’s a rare moment of serenity with the usually loud and hyper boy next to you.

when you glance at the clock on your bedside table it’s already been twenty minutes. lazily you reach over to poke kaminari in the side, murmuring for him to get up and take the mask off. when he doesn’t budge you sit up slowly, blinking a few times to shake off the grogginess before glancing back over at the blonde and realizing that oh, he had fallen asleep.

you don’t try and stop the small smile that makes its way onto your face as you take the opportunity to admire him, features unusually soft, quiet snores escaping soft lips every once in a while. it’s endearing, this side of him when he’s not being loud and chaotic.

you peel your own mask off, patting the excess lotion into your skin and taking the hairband off before turning to the sleeping form next to you, reaching for the edges of his mask and carefully removing his. all the while you keep an eye on his features, making sure not to wake him with any sudden movements.

his skin is surprisingly soft for someone who barely knows the purpose of toner, you think to yourself as you pat the lotion in with gentle touches, marvelling quietly at the way his skin seemed to bounce back every time your fingers press against the supple flesh. it’s hard to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks but you hold yourself back, not wanting it to leave marks on his surprisingly plush cheeks.

“there we go, all done,” you say to yourself as you slide off his hairband, leaning back and squinting at his face, trying to decipher whether he really was fast asleep.

poking at his eyebrows doesn’t elicit any kind of response so you get bolder, leaning closer to his face and risking a soft peck on his cheek, so light and soft.

your lips ghosting over his cheek so quickly that it’d probably go by missed if you hadn’t been so hyper aware of the entire situation, cheeks burning as you hope to god you hadn’t woken him up.

but judging by his reaction, you were busted. his eyes instantly fly open, brilliant gold meeting yours as you freeze up in shock, mind racing to find an excuse.

“do it again,” he blurts out, loud and sudden any very much back to his normal self. There’s a furious blush on his cheeks but he refuses to back down, eyes locked with yours and you just find the entire situation oh so endearing.

“do what?” you tease, giving him a cheeky grin. kaminari’s expression morphs into one of betrayal, wounded like you’d kicked him in the chest. it makes you heart clench in guilt for a split second, and so you bring your hands up to cup his cheeks, still the slightest bit dewy from the mask earlier.

“just kidding. don’t look so sad, sparky.”

he doesn’t get a chance to even react before your lips are on his, pressing against him so gently he’s worried you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you closer to him.

scooting closer to you, he tries to take the opportunity to bring his own hands up to your face but is quickly stopped by you, a hand coming down and lacing your fingers through his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that you’d always be there.

“you’re gonna wipe all the good stuff off,” you murmur as he breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to catch his breath, nose playfully bumping against yours.

kaminari feels like his heart might burst as he pulls your back into his chest, your body fitting against his so perfectly, the way he’d dreamed of for so many restless nights just yearning for your touch.

"so do you think if i tried to get a skincare fridge for my room iida would-”

“don’t even think about it, i’m warning you.”

#bnha scenarios #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #mha imagines #mha headcanons #denki x reader #kaminari fluff #kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #bnha kaminari

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seungmvnnie · 3 years

Text

Slytherin! Reader x Slytherin!Donghyuck

word count; 1.7k word

warnings; suggestive kissing, female reader, bullet point au, friends to lovers, not very good but i’m sorry i tried :( friends to lovers is not my forte but give me enemies to lovers anYDAY

Donghyuck had been one of your best friends since first year

He had sat next to you during your first banquet after you were sorted into Slytherin and from sheer, ‘we’re both new, help,’ panic, you ended up talking to each other, with no one else to talk to

you were both very chatty, you had discovered, and you were glad you had found the one person in Slytherin who seemed to have the same energy as you

you thought maybe your conversations with him had been a one off experience

but the next day you had discovered he had stood at the bottom of the stairs of the girls dormitory waiting to walk to breakfast with you

he was incredibly nice to you at first, but began showing his true colors 3 weeks into the year, and sometimes you wished he didn’t because lord knows that boy was annoying

he loved annoying you to no end

you would have never guessed that the boy you sat next to on the first day would turn out to be such a little shit

It was kind of you and Donghyuck against the world until your third year when he made friends with his roommate Jaemin, and then Chenle, Jisung, Mark, Renjun and Jeno

You didn’t really know them very well, but because of your friendship with Donghyuck you would hang out with them from time to time

the only one you were really friendly with was Jaemin and that was because you were both on the Slytherin quidditch team

you didn’t really start to see Donghyuck as anything more than an annoying brother until your final year at Hogwarts

you hadn’t seen him all summer so when he entered the compartment you and Jaemin had found together with the rest of his friend group, he seemed different

or more you seemed to feel differently about him

he looked different - he had always worn his hair in what you eloquently described as, ‘a lego hair look’ but now his hair was parted and styled perfectly

on top on that he seemed to have dressed differently - his previous jumpers and jeans had been swapped for a t-shirt, jeans and leather jacket

furthermore he appeared more mature, and while previously, you had to admit he was good-looking, this was different

it was like he had grown up over summer

you were a little bit,,, taken aback to say the least

by taken aback I mean Jaemin had to push your mouth closed and mumble, “Stop eye-fucking him perv.”

Despite this new attractive maturity you saw in him, you had quickly realized he was pretty much the same personality wise

considering the fact the first thing he did was poke you in the side, causing you to cry out and squirm away from him

but the way he laughed and let his hand linger on your waist was no longer a simple token of friendship that you would shrug off in joke annoyance after he tickled you or poked you

now it sent jolts of electricity throughout your body

which caused you to jumped out of his grip causing him and his friends to stop and look at you concerned

“Sorry, I have a bruise there,” you had covered up, rubbing your side to mimic pain

“Oh, sorry.” Donghyuck had apologized, before returning back to his conversation with Chenle

You had thought you had gotten away with it until you made eye contact with Jaemin, who had the ghost of a smile on his face as he glanced between you and Donghyuck

stupid ass jaemin and his sixth sense

You watched him on the train ride to school, hating the way your stomach flipped when he smiled or looked at you

and so you came to the conclusion

you fancied your best friend

that shouldn’t be allowed

it felt as if you were breaking the law or something

so much so, that for the entirety of the first day you did not make eye contact with him

you lay in bed that night, thinking about the situation you found yourself in

it was just a phase

it was only a phase brought on by his new look and outfit and tomorrow, he would be standing by the staircase of the girls dorm in his uniform waiting to walk with you to breakfast and the stupid butterflies that wouldn’t leave you alone would dissipate when you saw his stupid and ugly face

the next morning, you were running late

which meant you had precariously balanced your bag on your shoulder and your books were clutched in your arms as you ran downstairs, scrambling to cram them into your bag, when you missed and dropped your bag, the loud thud echoing through the stairwell

today was not your day

you had just bent down to pick up the book, when there was a loud wailing sound and the steps melted into a smooth, stone slide, causing you to slide down to the bottom, clashing into another body that lay crumpled at the end of the stairs

upon closer inspection, the body who’s limbs had entangled with yours was Donghyuck

you shot away from him

“What the hell were you doing!” you had cried out

he groaned as he sat up, stretching out

“I heard a noise so I wanted to check if you were okay.” he explained

the butterflies in your stomach ached, but you couldn’t show that, of course

“The stairs turn into a slide if a boy tries to go up it, dumbass.”

“Funnily enough, I noticed.” He looked at you and stood up, offering his hand to you

“I was just worried about you. I care about you.”

you thought that your newfound feelings were entirely because of his new look, but looking at him now, you felt as if maybe you had always felt this for him but hadn’t realized it

“You’re my best friend, you know.”

And there it was, the barrier that would forever be between you and Donghyuck

your friendship

you were just best friends, he saw you like how he saw the boys, nothing more, nothing less

but you couldn’t deny the way your heart ached for him now, a feeling that you had never experienced before

and it was a feeling you decided you weren’t allowed to experience anymore

and so, you spent months, attempting to distance yourself from him as much as possible

never anything huge, you didn’t want to cause a fight and have the reason for your distance to come out

by march, you had successfully managed to pretty much stop talking to him, although you hadn’t manage to avoid the residual tension which remained between you two as ex-best friends, particularly in the classes you sat beside each other in

it wasn’t until the last quidditch match of the year, that the situation came to a climax

As the team captain in his last year, Jeno was itching to win the quidditch cup for Gryffindor

the Slytherin team had been defeated by Hufflepuff a few months earlier which had completely knocked you out of the running for the cup, (much to yours and Jaemin’s annoyance) so you were rooting for Gryffindor to win

the Hufflepuff team captain was ruthless, and if you had to be honest, had crazy sexual tension with Jeno but anyways

miraculously, Jeno pulled through last minute and caught the snitch

in true Gryffindor fashion, they had to throw the craziest party of the year, with crazy amounts of fire whiskey and dancing, and due to your association with Jeno, you, Jaemin and Hyuck were invited

You were a little tipsy, but Hyuck had been steadily drinking the second the party had started

which is how he gained the courage to march up to you and demand answers

“Why aren’t we friends anymore?” he questioned, his words clear enough but slurring every now and then. he had to shout to be heard over the pulsating music

“I- I don’t know. I guess we grew apart?”

“Yes you do! You’ve been blowing me off since September and I want to know why! I ask Jaemin about it and he said you had a reason, but it was stupid so we didn’t just, ‘grow apart,’” he ranted, and your eyes softened as you could see how upset he was getting

“It’s because I’m in love with you, Hyuck.” You revealed, the alcohol loosening your tongue, speaking as quietly as the music allowed you to

“Okay, and? I’ve been in love with you since first year, give me a better reason.”

you nearly choked on you drink as you stared at him with wide eyes

“Hyuck.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, dropping the plastic cup he clutched onto the table next to him, he grabbed your waist, pulling your body towards him and crushed his lips to yours

you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing back as enthusiastically, only breaking apart as the room filled with wolf whistles and cheering

“ABOUT TIME.” Jaemin shouted from across the room

“OH GO SCREW A SNITCH, FUCKER.” you shouted back, arms still firmly wrapped around Donghyuck’s neck as he hid your head in your shoulder

the transition from friends to relationship was a difficult one for you two

mostly the transitioning how you acted around each other

you could go on dates and make out, but the biggest issue was getting used to not going,

“shut up, ugly.” or, “fuck off, dicko.”

in fact, neither of you realized that’s an inappropriate way to be in a relationship with someone until Chenle said,

“I thought you two were dating?”

you tried the whole, ‘speaking kindly,’ to each other for a while, but you realize that just isn’t you

you both know you’re in love with in each other so if you want to affectionately call Donghyuck a wanker, you could

Donghyuck was almost inappropriate with the insane amount of PDA

the only reason people realized that you had transitioned from best friends to relationship was the fact that he would kiss you anywhere, anytime

he tried to go for in once in your transfiguration class, but he soon regretted it

you both spent most of your time in the Slytherin common room, despite the stereotypical, ‘uncosy,’ décor

nothing was better than wearing Hyuck’s t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts and cuddling on the couch in the common room

overall you both still bicker with each other all the time and while you love that about your relationship, your favorite moments were those stolen sweet moments in front of the fire in the common room, curled up into Hyuck’s side and having him mumble, ‘I love you,’ in your ear.

#nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct #nct x reader #nct dream reactions #donghyuck x reader #haechan #nct dream imagine #haechan x reader #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct dream scenario #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 x reader

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ladyartemesia · 4 years

Text

▨ FIC • PREVIEW ▨

The Mark of Yun-Ki

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU • Royalty AU • Fantasy AU • Daechwita AU

Summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir... but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

Word Count: (preview) 2280 (final word count approx. 7K)

Rating and Warnings: Preview is rated M(ature) but final fic will be E(xplicit) for heat sex among other thing. Warnings for the preview include sexual innuendo and mature themes.

Author’s Note: One of the reasons I wrote this was in response to a prompt given to me by @mindays like MONTHS ago (I have included the original prompt at the bottom of the preview) • I really hope you like it! Sorry I took so long.

“Why is he blindfolded?”

The guard beside you shifted uncomfortably.

“The Emperor ordered that his eyes be covered at all times.”

Your gaze traveled covertly over your surroundings, assessing the dimly lit chamber with practiced disdain.

“Leave us.”

“My lady, I cannot-”

“Do you know who I am, soldier?”

Your voice slashed through the air like an icy whip.

“Y-yes, my la-”

“Then you know it is unwise to displease my family.” One jeweled hand came to rest dramatically on your chest. “Your daughter is not yet 15...such a pity to orphan one so young.”

The soldier bowed almost too quickly.

“I will be outside, my lady-” he bowed again and again as he backed toward the door, “I meant no disrespect-”

Then you were alone… save for the notorious prisoner bound and blindfolded in the cell before you.

He was clearly aware of your presence, but made no move or sound of acknowledgement, not even when your footsteps brought you to the very edge of his enclosure.

“Prisoner AG-D2... name unknown... crime unknown...” your hand travelled up to your hair to withdraw a long silver pin, “no date of birth, no date of arrest...”

The prisoner jerked suddenly when the sound of your pin tripping the cell’s iron lock reached his unnaturally sensitive ears.

His nostrils flared as an almost familiar scent - buried beneath a decade of fury and fear - curled through him.

“Who are you?”

The words were more of a growl than a question, but the only answer he received was the sound of his cell door creaking open.

“Why are you here?” he tried again.

“I am here to tell you a story...”

The prisoner barked out an empty laugh at your strange reply.

“I love a good story,” he whispered bitterly. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit at his spirit.

Wrists bound together, eyes covered… but still every inch the proud warrior. His clothes were worn, but well cared for and the body beneath them was sleek and strong. This was not a man accustomed to being bound.

“You were not raised like the rest of our people... the tales of our customs and our gods were - deliberately - never taught to you...but it is past time that you knew of them.”

He grinned, granting you a wicked flash of razor sharp fangs.

“Are all of the Emperor’s captives tortured with fairytales?”

“Charming,” you snorted, dragging a small stool from the corner of his cell. The prisoner’s ears flicked curiously at the sound.

“Aren’t you afraid of me, storyteller? What if I’ve been imprisoned for devouring beautiful women like yourself?”

You shook your head in amusement as you settled onto the stool.

“Have you devoured many beautiful women then?”

“Oh absolutely-” his grin took on a decidedly sinful slant, “but I doubt that’s why I’m here.”

A strange fluttering stirred in your chest at his words, though you did not fully understand the cause. You could not afford to waste time dwelling on such things, however.

“So... why are you here?”

The prisoner was silent for several moments as he weighed the risk of being honest with you.

“I don’t know,” he whispered finally, “I was told the Emperor himself ordered my arrest… but I was never told why.”

Your fingernails dug painfully into the palm of your hand, but you offered no other outward reaction to his words.

“What do you know of the current Min Emperor?”

“Not much. I’ve heard he is young... Stories say he has the temper of a demon, but his people endure it because he is the favorite of an ancient god.”

Your jaw clenched.

“That is correct. Our citizens are privileged to serve and obey the Emperor because the great tiger god, Yun-Ki has chosen the House of Min as his sacred bloodline. It is believed that the Mins are descended from Yun-Ki himself...”

“How ironic,” the prisoner scoffed, “considering that the Mins despise hybrids. They claim we are the unnatural children of the spirit realm and the earth. Surely they would be ashamed to be the product of such… blasphemy.”

Feminine laughter filled the air. It had been so long since the bound man had heard anything so beautiful. The ache it stirred in him was nearly as foreign as the sound itself.

“Yes it does seem rather hypocritical... especially in light of the events which bring me here.”

Your scent was stronger now. It tugged at the edges of his mind in broken pictures and flashes of sunshine. He knew it...

But he could not recognize it.

Nor could he explain the heat it began to stir in him.

“Yun-Ki’s chosen heir bears his sacred mark .... Every child of the emperor’s seed is checked for it the moment they are born. And no concubine or wife of the emperor is ever so exalted as the one who produces a marked heir... except of course, the mother of our current emperor.”

The prisoner leaned forward, fascinated in spite of the strange circumstances.

“The dowager empress is widely revered. I may not know your fairytales, but a hybrid’s ears are better than most. My guards speak of her often.”.

You nodded

“The dowager is indeed very highly regarded… but she is not the emperor’s true mother.”

“Lady…” the prisoner shook his head irritably. “What nonsense is this? And how could it possibly affect me?”

You chuckled softly and the small hairs on the back of his arms rose up in response.

“Patience, prisoner, the truth I offer you is worth more than both our lives.”

“The fine jewelry I hear clinking around your neck is worth more than my life, lady,” he hissed. “Speak your peace and spare me these cryptic declarations.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possess not to flick him right in his arrogant nose.

“As you wish,” you replied with heavily affected sweetness. “The story begins with our current emperor’s father. The old emperor was a man of warfare and his spies discovered that the Prince of neighboring PyonKang planned invade our territory, he marched his armies in and occupied the small kingdom without mercy…” (you paused here significantly) “He even took the Prince’s sister as his war prize...”

The prisoner snorted.

“Did he know what she was?” He smiled coldly. “The royals of PyongKang do not share your nation’s distaste for hybrids or the pleasures of mating with one-”

There was a sharp spike in your scent when he spoke the words; a darker - richer essence than the one he detected earlier, but this time he had no trouble identifying it.

Arousal.

Blood churned chaotically beneath his skin, rushing to answer your body’s unspoken request. His mind clouded suddenly and for a moment...he could almost taste you.

This is dangerous.

The fabric of your gown rustled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat - driven to relieve some of the unexpected pressure in your core.

“He did not know. The lady bore no hybrid indicators. So the emperor assumed - quite incorrectly - that she was not a hybrid.”

“I’ve heard of such things…” he sighed, sifting through his memory till he found what he was looking for. “A physician I met in Eastern Wei discovered that some hybrids manifest internally. They retain the outer shell of a human, but their inner parts reveal the truth.” His head tilted as he recalled the old doctor’s exact words. “The face of man could hide the heart of a snake.”

You drew your lip between your teeth and nibbled it nervously.

“You are correct. Except, in the case of the emperor’s war prize concubine, the face of a beautiful woman hid the heart of a tiger.”

The man before you scrambled to his feet in a move so sudden and unexpected, you nearly cried out.

“You mean to tell me that the current Min Emperor is a tiger hybrid? Surely I would have heard of it. The world would have heard of it.”

You drew a deep breath - almost as if to brace yourself for the words you planned to speak.

The prisoner’s eyes were covered, but he could still make out shapes and shadows through the rough cloth. Your shadow seemed unnaturally still. When you spoke again, your tone was softer and the sound of it resonated deep within him like the bells of the old temple near his childhood home.

“The princess of PyongKang became pregnant, and gave birth to twin boys. The younger was strong and pale, gifted with the strange golden hair so many of the Min bloodline seem to possess. But his elder brother...”

Your hands opened and closed reflexively in your lap as you worked to calm your pounding pulse.

“... The elder brother’s hybrid heritage was quite evident.”

You moved then, stepping slowly and carefully until you stood before the prisoner face to face. Your scent swelled erotically with every step until it wrapped around him like a velvet vice. The urge to lean into it - into you - was nearly unbearable.

“One of the twins bore the tiger god’s mark... but not the one who sits on the throne now.”

Your hand stretched slowly toward the edge of the prisoner’s blindfold.

“The emperor executed his hybrid concubine immediately, yet even he was not bold enough to kill Yun-Ki’s chosen heir...”

Your fingers hovered a hairsbreadth from his skin. Once you touched him, everything would change. The truth you chased for eleven years would be within your grasp.

“He sent the child to a poor family of fox hybrids who worked and lived on the estate of his most loyal warlord. The boy was never to know what he was… who he was...”

You could almost feel the moment he grasped the implication of your words. The subtle bond that always hummed strangely between you remained strong despite the years of separation.

“The warlord had a daughter who loved to ride her horse near the lake.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly as you continued. “One day the horse was startled by a snake and it threw her into the water...”

A single tear wet his blindfold as the alluring tendrils of your scent merged chaotically with the treasured echoes in his mind.

“Tiger hybrids hate the water,” you whispered, gently drawing the cloth up over his head, “but you dove in to save me anyways.”

Your lungs and throat burned from coughing out the water you swallowed, yet the pain was far preferable to the finality of drowning. The heavy fabric of your gown weighed you down as soon as your body crashed into the lake.

Death reached for you, but the strange boy cradling you tightly to his chest had pulled you back before you were lost to its embrace.

“Little one, can you hear me?”

His eyes scanned frantically over your small drenched form for signs of serious injury, but you were completely distracted from your almost untimely end by the two feline ears twitching conspicuously amid the boy’s sodden curls.

“You’re… You’re a cat!”

The boy’s jaw dropped open indignantly.

“I’m tiger hybrid! Not a cat.” He shook his head irritably. “Have you never seen a hybrid before?”

“I’ve only heard of hybrids. I’ve never really seen one-”

Your fingers itched to touch the soft fur of his ears and you stretched forward almost absently to do so till he lashed out and snatched your wandering hand.

“What are you doing?!”

“Oh… I was going to...pet you?” you murmured sheepishly, prompting an irritable growl from the boy.

“Little One, you do not pet tigers.”

He stood to his feet abruptly, dumping you into a soggy heap in the process. It took considerable effort for you to pull yourself upright while wearing 4 layers of thoroughly soaked cloth, but you eventually managed to regain your bearings and scramble after him.

“Wait! Come back please I EEP-”

The water dripping off your dress made the grass rather slippery… Both legs flew out from under you and, for the second time in less than a minute, you found yourself flat on your back.

After a few moments of gazing miserably into the sky, a familiar face hovered over yours.

“What a strange girl you are, Little One.”

You grinned.

“What is your name, tiger?”

He sighed deeply and held his hand out to pull you up.

“I’m Yoongi.”

“Hello, Yoongi.” You tried to manage a proper bow, but only ended up losing your balance again. Yoongi grabbed your sleeve just in time to prevent you from crashing face first at his feet.

“You’re completely hopeless,” he chuckled, endeared in spite of himself.

Then you smiled.

It was a fierce, blinding thing and Yoongi became aware of a subtle yet profound shift deep within the recess of his soul; something his primal half recognized immediately, but his human mind could not begin to comprehend.

“No one’s ever said that to me before, even though I know they all think it.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged.

“They are probably afraid of my father.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in alarm.

“You’re the warlord’s daughter?!”

“Yes,” you replied with all the haughtiness a ten-year old could muster, “and I’m quite used to getting what I want.”

Yoongi felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. You were such an adorable little brat.

“And what is it you’re wanting now, Little One?”

You nibbled your lip for a moment, suddenly shy before the handsome hybrid boy whose beautiful feline eyes danced with unconcealed mirth.

“I want you to be my friend.”

Thirteen years later, those same golden eyes locked with yours as a strangled sob bubbled up from the back of his throat.

“Little One?” his face lit suddenly with pure joy “...is it you?”

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I would love to know any thoughts or theories you have! Thank you for reading! This story will be published on or around 7/31!

This is the original prompt which inspired this story...

#min yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi smut #hybrid yoongi #yoongi smut #hybrid fic

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