#he loves the loud crack and the way the flame licks through the air

[s0fter-sin]

circus/carnival au. ghost does extreme motorcycle stunts - globe of death, riding on his back wheel along tightropes that sort of thing - and soap is a fire swallower/dancer. soap is a roaming performer, he just finds empty spaces or bored people and starts twirling. he pretends not to notice that he always wanders towards a certain area at the same time every night to watch a certain masked daredevil defy gravity

[barbika1508]

Vicious malevolent dragon (Dragon!Min Yoongi x Reader)

Words: 6,1k

Genre: Dragon AU, Romance, Soulmates/ Mates, Smut

Pairing: Dragon!Min Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Mention of torture and abuse // Knotting, Possessiveness, Praise kink

Summary: Rural villages all hide secrets. Not this one. This one rejoices in the taking of a life once a year to pay for their foolish assumption of safety very much delusional. Not only does the chosen maiden get to live, she finds the love of her life who would burn the world down for her.

Author’s note: Hydria – water jar (pottery) This was inspired by a fic on AO3 which for the life of me I can’t track down.

/ BTS Masterlist /

The smell of smoke fills my lungs from top to bottom making it hard to breathe the burning taking up my attention as my eyes spill with tears, cries choked out of me specially thanks to the jostling of my body, tremors and harsh holds leaving nasty bruises and wounds in their wake.

Though haziness my attempt at escaping has been prevented as they’ve captured me. My feeble attempts at punching and kicking earn me harsher push backs, as I’m slammed onto the ground, my limbs pulled uncomfortably as restrains fasten inhumanely leaving me bound, unmoving and crying out in pain. The self-preservation part of me has me wiggle around.

In retaliation I receive a punishment in the form of a hit delivered to my right side cracking my ribs. Another follows as my legs get pulled twisted one over another the restraints digging into my ankles splitting skin and drawing blood.

Another scream leaves my parted mouth as the smoke remains enveloping me, the dizziness it’s bringing hurting the most. The ash-iness of it almost comforts me, lack of warmth terrifying as my body rests bare to many unwanted eyes the chill of the night air keeping me further awake into the nightmare.

Grubby hands force rings, bracelets, necklaces pounds of golden jewellery over my restrained limbs, breaking and twisting fingers and bones the added weight another restraint from freedom.

The chanting and cheering from people rise in volume, gleeful laughter piercing the air, manic in comparison to my torment and despair sinking its claws in me air something I’m able to sob for barely getting any as the townsfolk swing their blazing torches near my face my body, forcing me to inhale the smoke that’s ruining and eating up my lungs.

Through half blinded gaze I spot disfigured greedy grins, colourful and flower-patterned attire’s mocking me as they lead me towards death.

Even children aren’t merciful their giggle’s terrifying in the back as they shout insults that I’m sure they will get chided for come tomorrow. The devils come out at night they say.

A cry tears its way from my throat leaving me with an iron taste. I barely am able to spit it out the bile of the smoke halted as they slam me onto something metallic, the hit to the back of my head leaving my vision spinning as well as my thoughts, pain mercilessly keeping me awake. I register the way they pull my hands above my head, my twisted legs fixated.

The smoke of torches returns drying out my tears, as my head gets positioned to lie facing the empty vast night sky, stars beyond unrecognizable as the darkness overpowers the fog before my eyes. I can spot licks of flames from the torches that for the first time since regaining consciousness reman at bay as a man’s voice booms in the clearing, his croaking laughter ending whatever speech or words of supposed wisdom he pridefully spoke.

It goes eerie quiet while dark spots begin to swim in my eyes, consciousness finally slipping as I’m ready to accept death, to be relieved of the evens and the final moments of my life. I am almost thankful for the lack of vision as I’m spared from clear images of my disfiguration – of my own murder.

The roar from a beast is heard loud and clear rattling everyone till the bones, the sound petrifying as it echoes in the clear of the night.

As the crowd of murderess roar in triumph, cheers of supposed victory overpowering, deafening me in the protest only then do I feel fear sink into me. Pain demands to be felt there is no way out of it but to endure. But panic has its way of crawling under one’s skin, seizing up the body and mind taking mindless control of one’s actions and reactions.

The roaring of the beast whom we were all told since birth to always hide and run away from. And yet those fears I’ve had since I was a babe don’t compare to the horrifying shouts of joy and delight coming from none other than humans.

The monsters, devils that begin to leave to their festivities, they are the terrors to fear – their ruthlessness harsher than any mindless creature can deliver.

Still persistent my mind stays awake even if everything else begins to shut down, body ablaze with pain I cannot even comprehend anymore – cannot begin to describe as it has no beginning and no end.

I barely flinch at a whistle ringing out near my ear something like a breath fanning near my right side, a touch to my entangled hair adorned with jewels and gold unfazing me.

‘’You should have said yes to my marriage proposition.’’ The voice says with elation tutting after ‘’Such a shame.’’

The roar and flap of what I can only assume are wings sound closer the humming of the man taunting renewing tears behind my eyelids ‘’Sacrifices are always fun don’t you think?!’’

For starters I wake up gasping for air, lungs working double the speed to regain the loss of oxygen. My body lunges forth sitting upright fingers curling in fists as my eyes dart around the dark room searching for the danger present. Lucky, nothing of sorts looms anywhere near besides the dying embers coming from my left and the midst of the spacious room the bonfire serving to warm me during these cold nights and to cook meals from.

Despite the emptiness my senses remain on alert even as my hands fall over my lap exhaustion following. Drenched in sweat I smack my dry mouth a few times the taste unpleasant the nightmare having rattled me, the remnants of it causing shivers to run down my spine, goosebumps a side effect.

I contemplate moving not really wanting to leave the safe haven of the makeshift bed built from rich furs but the dryness in my throat only gets more persistent and the uncomfortableness of my night shirt clinging to my back growing.

Pushing myself up I crawl over until my bare feet press against the stone of the carved-out floors that have been smoothed out. Reaching for my boot’s my body aches muscles tense, even as I push myself onto my feet.

Stopping near the dying heart, I blow onto the embers a few times adding two smaller logs onto them the fire quick to catch on rekindling and growing anew providing more light to the closed off space.

The cold in the air isn’t bothersome or all that noticeable to my overheated skin, but it brings back that familiar odd sensation of feeling too exposed. Even if I am the only occupant of the mountain. Heading to the opposite side from the furs I peek into the closed off chamber the mountains of gold and treasures strewn across the cave room, additions of books and weapons thrown to the side the piles noticeably smaller signalling the novelty to the hoard.

Sidestepping past them, I reach the makeshift wardrobe that has been halfway built clothes lying folded instead of hung. By passing them I grab for the fur cloak I’m most familiar with, one than completely covers my body and keeps me warm no matter what I wear underneath.

Feeling slightly more comforted I make my way back into the living space towards a particular chest which contains some meat to be eaten tomorrow, along with one piece of bread and randomly picked fruit from two days ago. At the cheat’s side lies a hydria thankfully replenished with water from the stream just outside around the corner of the hidden cave I’m safely tucked in.

I greedily drink the cool liquid not caring of the possibility of a sore throat as I’m more starved of liquid than I assumed I was.

Once the water spills past my lips I slow down my haste catching my breath, at least feeling somewhat better. Tucking the jar back into its place I offer a glance at the empty furs, the appeal non-existent anymore.

My feet lead me towards the exit on their own passing the narrow passage newly built, a huge boulder having been laid in front of what used to be a vast open space into the cave now concealed.

The bite of the cold I welcome as it nips at my cheeks and nose awakening me further. The tiredness still lingers it always does but the change is welcomed as I lay my eyes on the vast forest stretching bellow. Walking to the edge of the ledge my knees buckle as I make myself comfortable sitting on the ground burrowing in the cloak, consoled by the smell of smoke that clings to the fur.

Yawning quietly, I observe the area my eyes drawn to the light protruding in the darkness peeking over hilltops neatly tucked away in shelter. I scoff turning my attention upwards to the half full moon my heart always fluttering whenever I see it and the stars. The constellations as always draw themselves inside my mind connecting right in front of my eyes brining a smile to my lips.

To think I almost lost my sight.

I sigh as my body begins to ache the familiar ghost of old pains arising, specially whenever the moon is nearing its fulness the magic tug from it always demanding to be felt. But as I once felt fear of its power, I’ve embraced its light instead.

I shudder as a breeze wafts past ruffling my hair that lays unruly around my head and shoulders. My teeth chatter together for a mere moment. I welcome the cold that cools my skin having turned it rosy, pink.

Closing my eyes, I let my head lull towards the sky, an old lullaby surfacing in the back of my mind brisk to make an appearance as my voice comes out in a hum the melody getting lost in the air.

Soon enough the familiar flapping of wings pierces gently through the odd haze I’ve lulled myself into. Upkeeping the melody my hum softens as my eyes fall open upturned towards the moon, a shadow passing by it – something that would alarm any normal being.

And yet here I am with my heart fluttering in my chest, my woes melting away, tension lessening from my entire being. As I fall silent the sound disappears leaving me all alone the whispers from the wind playing with the mountain peaks making its own song along. I try pinpointing his entrance liking to pretend I have a keen sense for him. As I glance above my head half expecting his descend to be dramatic, I’m left with a smile as I turn to look to my left straightening my back meeting with silver orbs resembling igneous silver.

The hulking beast that towers higher than any common house, larger than three wagons combined, bigger than life itself I’d say begins to shift, shrinking in size the sounds of bones shifting and cracking not fear inducting as it used to be. Throughout its change I keep my eyes fixated on its eyes relieved of the loneliness from the past two days getting erased instantaneously.

Remaining seated on my spot with my legs crossed – mostly due to his many chidings and scolding’s whenever I sit near the edge – I watch silently as a humanoid form of a man appears from the shadows two horns remaining atop of the male’s head his silhouette entrancing as always.

Stepping closer I pick up on coins cluttering together a sack revealing itself thanks to the light of the moon a moment further. Besides, it lay a couple of dead rabbits strung together they being small prey animals eliciting a raised eyebrow in question as I look up once more, glad to set my eyes on my beloved’s softened features.

‘’Looking out to get sick again?’’ his voice comes out gruff almost animalistic his loot and prey left forgotten dropped as he walks over quick to kneel, bare arms making contact as he attempts to pull his own fur cloak which I’m wearing tighter together as if to protect me.

‘’Alas not tonight.’’ I tease him, frown remaining on his face as his irises remain glowing silver taking me in. His warm hand comes to cup my cheek switching up as he presses the back of his fingers over my forehead ‘’I’m alright.’’ I roll my eyes pushing at his hand trying to reassure him knowing full well where this is going as he lets out a growl as I intertwine our hands together ‘’You’re here, I’m more than fine.’’ I switch tactic but smile genuinely as I take him in, his dark hair familiar horns sticking upwards, features sharp as he is not entirely convinced.

‘’As sweet as your words may be, don’t keep me a fool human.’’ He growls sounding annoyed but for a fact I know he isn’t. Keeping back a chuckle I end up nodding trying to put on a serious expression breaking immediately feeling nothing but love and adoration for him.

‘’I’d never ever dream of doing that oh mighty dragon from the north.’’ I find myself playfully squeaking in laughter as he growls threateningly but makes quick work of grabbing me. With ease I get lifted into his embrace thrown over his shoulder the change of position eliciting giggles to rush past my lips.

‘’She giggles.’’ He grumbles stepping over to his loot ‘’You should be begging for your life, human not giggling like a child at my presence.’’

Picking up his things I muse at the dragon holding onto his hips to not swing so wildly ‘’Can’t help it I’m afraid. You’re a very charming dragon after all.’’

His chest grumbles I’m sure pleased with my words. He carries us inside silent making sure to lay me down gently on the furs his handling bringing brief vertigo, which gets chased away swiftly his hand touching under my chin ‘’Be good.’’ Is all he says as he gets up and walks across the room storing the rabbits first while at the same time granting me the view of his bare skin and glorious backside as he bends over.

I tut to myself grinning widely once he spares me a look grumbling something to himself.

‘’Practically oozing charm.’’ I compliment further even as he straightens and ignores me heading off to check on his hoard.

Smiling to myself feeling hot thanks to his mere presence – as the fire is dying once more – I shrug of his cloak throwing my boots from the furs to burrow beneath them the difference of having him here tremendous.

And yet as I lie down and wait for him wearing nothing but his shirt, my joy diminishes the space I’m back in bringing the nightmare to resurface as I remember the clammy feeling and terror I felt when I woke up. My gaze darts to the small fire and the smoke as it rises towards the ceiling, a small opening a crack in the rocks enabling some to escape.

I can hear coins and heavier object in various sizes clattering. It should be reassuring that he is here, I should be fine just knowing he is at arm’s reach. But as I sit up my limbs begin to shake, cold sweat making an appearance as what I feel like my soul gets weighted – the heft of the gold I was forced to wear that night remains as a ghost feeling over my skin.

A whole-body shudder runs through me my vision getting slightly blurry but not from tears. I tear my gaze away from the fire sniffling quietly pushing at the furs prompting the makeshift pillow behind me lying on my hip.

Yoongi stalks forward silently still nude as the day he was born – hatched as he’d explained once – gaze intent as it fixates on me. I preoccupy myself with fluffing up the furs not wanting to have the conversation right now. Reaching the end, he’s quick to lie down and crawl closer taking my hand gently into his stopping me from moving.

Unable to look at him I stare at our joined hand’s letting him pull me into his embrace the warmth he is emitting familiar and like a fresh breath of air itself. Greedily I wrap my own arms around him hating that my body begins trembling, hating the lump in my throat and numbness settling in my chest as flashes of colour appear before my eyes.

‘’Shhhh I’m here beloved.’’ His voice is soft ‘’I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.’’

 His caresses mean everything chasing away the torturous heavy weight of gold feeling from my skin, soothing my body tremors, easing my breathing as I match his heartbeat hand splayed over his bare chest between us. He attempts to hum a melody which impresses me tremendously given he has spent some time in his dragon form voice having gone unused.

It’s his effort and willingness, patience that keep me comforted and with a fluttery heart. Vicious malevolent dragon huh?

His tongue darts out licking a part of my cheek the action still after all this time having me jerk away his arms preventing me from backing away too much. Scrunching up my nose as I smile turning, he’s utmost serious as he stares at me, silver reappearing in his mostly brown irises.

‘’I don’t think you can fix night terrors that easily, my love.’’ I note reaching up to cup his face running both thumbs over the apple of his cheeks, the growl and showing of sharpened teeth not at all intimidating even as his frown deepens.

‘’You don’t know for sure.’’ He’s quick to retort long tongue making an appearance to which I attempt to cover his mouth, not at all bothered as his tongue brushes over the inside of my palm brining more chuckles to resurface.

‘’My love, my heart, my everything it’s alright.’’ I speak softly feeling how my heart blooms for the dragon holding onto me tightly ‘’You’ve done more than enough truly.’’ I pull my hand back and point silently at myself ‘’The dreams will pass, your mage friend said so himself. Don’t fret to much over me. Your scales are going to go grey to soon.’’ I muse towards the end, making a point to grab onto his left horn him letting me get away with it telling me he’s putty in my arms.

‘’I don’t care about that.’’ he grumbles remaining serious ‘’You’re my only concern of course I’m going to fret.’’ Leaning in I don’t stop him as he’s quick to connect our lips sharp teeth making an appearance but never drawing blood, as he kisses with somewhat of a buried need that’s only growling given the way how his grip tightens around me, strong hands firm but not hurtful.

It’s easy for him to upkeep the kisses his passion bringing a smoky thang to how he taste’s something I’ve gotten used to. Gasping once his tongue prods at my lips he breaks it off moving over my cheek, licking over the small cut I’ve manage to achieve by descending to the woods yesterday to pick some pomegranates.

I quiver upon feeling the skin healing itself, his saliva having magical proprieties. It’s how he literally mended me together so to speak.

Left broken and chained to an altar barely clinging onto my life he descended that very same night to claim the offerings of the village having been mostly of produce and gold, the year clearly being twisted into something vile – a human sacrifice.

It wasn’t hard to hear or feel him his beastly form something out of this world my brain far too gone to comprehend him in the first place. But through my blurry gaze his eyes were the first thing I’ve set my gaze upon. His deafening roar filled me with some type of energy – it was as if he called out for my soul to tether itself right back to my body. The warm he exuded felt scorching hot unbearable but not like the torches – his heat and warmth were like a blanket draped over me.

The few times I’ve asked him, prodded more so for an answer why he saved me in the first place given I was broken and beyond salvation even in my own opinion I’ve never gotten a clear reply. He either smiled knowingly or set his jaw tight remembering the night something causing him pain, himself.

‘’You were meant for me.’’

Those famous words of his still to this day keep ringing in my head from time to time.

***

‘’Holy fuck you feel so good.’’ I hiss in the beginning ending up whining, my body feeling like it’s on fire. Given the man in front of me literally can breathe fire, is just a bonus.

His chest grumbles against the palm of my right hand where it rests near his heart. Going past that detail my mind is entirely preoccupied with the feeling of him, as I continue for right now slow descent onto his cock, which is filling me already impossibly so. But given our practice and mainly his determination not to harm me I’m left tearless and aching for the pleasure, for the extasy that’s promised and within my grasp.

‘’Hmm, do I?’’ comes his raspy tone, a hint of smoke leaving past his lips his struggle with staying still evident in the tight hold he has over my hips upholding me more so than I am myself, as I sink down on him, stopping just above his knot the actions coming from his side. I reopen my eyes to look at him in question and amusement, finding his eyes screwed shut his control slipping which he’s trying to desperately reign in.

But there are more black scales making an appearance, humanoid form morphing into his dragon side the sight only arousing further, the tinge of danger always present in these moments, making it addicting whenever he begins losing some of his saint like control.

Speechless my mouth opens and closes uselessly, thighs starting to shake increasingly the harder I try to ride him, his hands pulling me down not entirely helpful.

‘’AH FUCK!’’ I find myself shouting at a particularly harsh pull coming from his end, making me sink almost entirely onto him, knot kissing my lower lips ‘’Ahhh Y-Yoongi-yahh…’’ I cry breathless tears glossing my eyes, my body trying to fold together which of course his hands prevent to do so, his right one suddenly getting placed over my chest.

‘’You are doing so great, beloved.’’ He praises coming closer, muscles tensing under my hands as his hands switch from my hips, arms wrapping around me touch tender tracing my skin ‘’So amazing. My pretty mate.’’ His tone lowers but grown more affectionate, kisses beginning to be spread over my face.

‘’Mate.’’ I repeat after him, enjoying the vibrations emitting from his chest, letting my hands trace his defined chest. I notice the amused smile he sports letting me to my own devices, the need to reach our releases momentarily not a priority.

‘’Yes, my mate. Mine. You are mine.’’ He confirms words holding heaviness. Without fail it makes me feel that we were destined for each other since birth. It’s what he loves to remind me, oh big dragon with an inkling to prophecy Yoongi is always so assured we are meant to be. I’ve long ago started believing him.

‘’Mine.’’ Again, I repeat eyes fleeting to his own, the power he holds nothing for me to be afraid of, the heaviness his irises hold. But also, the love, the amour, the baring of his soul I see whenever I look at him. I must admit it is the most amazing feeling in the world to know, be aware and accept someone’s love and adoration the only hard thing not to get to overwhelmed with it at times.

‘’Mine.’’ He agrees closing the distance mindful of bumping his head against my own – something he’s always been cautious about – horns a thing of magnificence even in their trait of harmfulness that could bring me. I’ve never shied away from them, eagerness a human trait he told me. It hasn’t stopped me before and it won’t stop me now, as I meet him halfway. It has been barely 2 days that he was absent but each time he leaves an emptiness appears in my chest. An emptiness I know he’s always willing to fill right up.

Its why I’m ready for our kisses to transition from sweet and almost timid into ones of hunger and lust his tongue shameless swiping over my lower lip, earning himself a wanton moan as I grant him entrance, tongue twisting with mine not keeping this at all shy anymore or reserved.

He is a beast after all, a mighty dragon known to take what belongs to him – and what doesn’t – known to be monstrous, strong, invulnerable. He is going to take what he wants.

He has taken my heart.

At his hands landing onto my hips again fingers slipping into the juncture where my thighs meet my torso my body gradually tenses up, knowing he has something up his sleeve the kiss getting broken ‘’Shhhhh, don’t fret beloved.’’ He calms kissing me once more ‘’Relax Y/N-ah, relax…’’ like a siren luring its prey with its voice alone Yoongi has this effect on me but not thanks to magic or his draconic abilities.

It’s because I’ve learned to trust him wholeheartedly, my body in-tune with him more so than my own thoughts at times proven now as my muscles loosen listening to him before I can register his words entirely, his actions clicking in my mind a moment after as he begins pushing me onto his knot.

My hands redirect from resting against his chest to wrap around his neck, having done this quite a few times I’ve learned to arch my back and focus on my breathing ‘’Ah that’s it, what a good girl you are for me.’’ The praises keep on coming, the kiss he presses to my temple a human gesture he picked up from me, sending my heart into a fluttering spiral.

I let my head fall sideways trying to watch how he begins to stretch me impossibly wide, pain always a factor in our intimacy but not to an unbearable point. It always promises pleasure to accompany and overshadow it.

As I sink onto his bulbous knot further whines arise automatically, being vocal something I can only do with Yoongi.

‘’My pretty mate.’’ He breathes out losing the composure he has gained, voice sounding strained finally his hands steadily pushing me down I’m certain listening to the way I’m breathing watching how I’m reacting. Known to be greedy, my dragon mate is anything but when it comes to me his love overpowering his most primal traits – he has proven it time and time again, love having overtaken us both entirely, Eros’s arrow entirely wound into our hearts.

‘’Ah p-pretty huh…’’ I half-chuckle ending up groaning as I sink on the widest part, whining in protest as it doesn’t stop, bottoming out not always my favorite part.

‘’Fffffff…you’re so tight.’’ Yoongi grunt’s his hold on the verge of leaving my skin bruised. He avidly tries to avoid marking me in such way, rather slathering his scent – or semen – or love bites in a controlled manner over my skin.

‘’N-noo…’’ I chuckle ‘’You are just big.’’ I grin widely, knowing my words always raise his confidence. And there’s nothing that I prefer more than seeing my mate happy ‘’F-fuck you’re b-big…’’ the realization always weirdly daunts me, as he shifts his hips the slightest my body in tune with his entirely.

It’s a sensation I’ve grown accustomed to – like many things – to be in sync with him, to be relaxed or calm as he is, temperature catching up to his but in a safe manner, body accepting more strain. It’s a whole another thing to be connected to him like I’m now feeling as one with my mate always a magical experience. Even if he finds my description of it being magic funny, he agrees it carries those types of properties.

‘’You keep flattering me tonight, beloved.’’ Chest rumbly his lowered raspy tone sends a shiver down my spine, my cunt clenching around him ‘’Have you missed me that much? Did I leave you alone for too long?’’

Instead of teasing me he turns soft. Regaining some thinking capabilities, I lift my head not concerned with my expression neither the way I look right now as I let my eyes feast upon him, how handsome he is and collected again.

‘’Hmm possibly.’’ I begin honestly ‘’I always miss you when you leave, my love. 3 days, 1 day, 1 hour.’’ I pause seeing a shift in his eyes surprise something that always delights me ‘’I always want you by my side, my mighty dragon. Call me greedy. All I want is you.’’

Speaking from the heart is not something I usually do, emotions hard to deal with most of the time. But never when it comes to him. I’ve always found it rather straightforward when it comes to Yoongi, the fear, the confusion, the realization when I started falling for him, and even after coming to terms with my soul calling for his it’s been blissfully easy.

Something suddenly fills my chest. Pride? Love? Complete and utter adoration? It can be all of those, his emotions reflected in his expression and eyes, heart feeling like it’s going to burst, our link stronger than ever my confession causing his dragon part to let out a roar, as he howls at the sky looking magnificent, and terrifying to whoever dares to send a look his way.

Like before giggles bubble up my chest, even as he manhandles us around mouth hot as he begins his assault of delivering as much kisses as fast as he can, to an overwhelming degree his antics always welcomed. He’s bubbling with emotions, another rarity that Yoongi’ doesn’t show too often.

‘’My pretty, pretty mate. All mine.’’ He begins to growl, and mutter under his breath like a man crazed hands having flipped us around, resulting in my upper torso lying on the piled-up furs comfortably, whist he keeps my lower part and legs wrapped around him, bodies still very much so tightly wound together and connected, his hard cock not having softened a bit.

‘’Yahh Yoongi-yahh…’’ I call out teasingly, the disrespectful title I’m addressing him with always softening him, till some degree ‘’Wahh, I’ll take it you’ve missed me too.’’ my giggles get cut short, as his hands begin to knead my breasts, the dragon always happy to pinch my nipples that are already sensitive enough his touches at times downright cruel.

‘’Missed you…’’ he finally slows his frenzy of kisses ‘’…I always miss you.’’ The confession follows as he slows to a stop, hands exploring my body touch more sensual.

I let my hands drift to his cheek’s thumbs caressing his warm skin ‘’My heart belongs to you, love of my life.’’

Lowering onto his elbows he comes closer expression neutral. It’s his eyes that reflect what he’s feeling, chest full of emotions, I can feel the heat radiating from him can almost hear how his heart is thundering ‘’As mine does to you, my soul.’’

Buckling his hips, I’m startled pleasantly the spark between us regaining igniting our bodies and their needs coming to the front, emotions taking a step back. We’ve deprived ourselves to long, almost cruelly so holding back, lust a gluttonous thing growing impossible to ignore.

Pulling back slowly he’s still mindful of my body even if he lightly begins to tremble vibrations from his chest something primal from within him, that he cannot always control. His eyes silvery and deadly, indicate he is ready to devour. And yet in all his glory, his power, reputation, his proving and sheer strength Yoongi holds himself back, until his knot pops back out making him hiss, heat hitting my face as he gasps, my body shuddering at the feeling of brief emptiness.

I have to raise my head to see where we are connected, ending up surprised how wet my folds are. The sight causes warmth to hit my cheeks and chest eyes almost shy as I look up watching him as he sits up, readjusting ending up hovering over me, propped on his left hand right holding me.

‘’Come on.’’ I breathe out before I can stop myself, his predatory eyes fixing on my own ‘’Please. I need you please take me, Yoongi-ah.’’

He grunts as in warning, everything he’s displaying shouting ‘DANGER’ loud and clear.

He’s going to wreck me, absolutely destroy me, that much I can see is a promise in his eyes. And I can only bite onto my lower lip in anticipation, awaiting the destruction.

Gone is time for words, for begging, or normal human function as a matter of fact. More dragon than human, Yoongi isn’t gentle as much anymore as he pulls back and thrust back in the flare of pain at his quickness and assertiveness making an appearance, sparks beginning to roll fucking finally, my body only now showing signs of depravity as I’ve began going sensitive, breath hitching.

His hips hitting against my own, begin echoing around the spacious cavern skin slapping against skin not a sound I find shameful anymore. The growling that’s coming from deep within his throat is an indicator I’m doing something right, that I’m giving my mate pleasure even if he is chasing it himself. He is absolutely mesmerizing, holding himself above eyes focused on where we are connected, brows furrowed in concentration. His body built, shoulders and torso muscular thanks to his dragon form he feels like some sort of divinity above me, enveloping me in all his might, protecting me from everything, my soul delivering an onslaught of pleasure that begins spiking my heart rate, my skin feeling like it’s on fire, nothing else mattering in the world, only him.

It’s not even humanly possible to register the amount of pleasure he delivers initially let alone now that he speeds up, grabbing me under my knees spreading my legs further apart changing the angle he’s pistoning into me with the intention of ruin.

My voice gone, moans the only form I’m able of communication tears have already painted my cheeks and the side of my face with trails of salty water, while my body is his to control, not many function left besides the burrowing of my hands in the furs the need to hold onto something for dear life an automatic response as I’m sent hurling into the abyss of pleasure that keeps on rolling out, thanks to my mate.

He is not so far from me either, the pressure bellow beginning to increase halfway through the haze I’ve fallen into, the world spinning only around us two at the moment, his panting bringing me back to reality, whines softening my heart all at once.

Letting go of the furs I open my arms wide eagerly accepting as he falls into me, hips for the last time hitting my own as he bottoms out, making me cry out as he fills me oh so good knot engorged locking us together, his own bliss achieved as my dragon, my Yoongi lies safely and warm in my arms, eyes floating into his own haze of pleasure.

Shuddering I attempt to readjust the furs to make us more comfortable, his warning growl once more brining out giggles from me, as I proceed to accommodate us despite my tummy beginning to grow. I’ve got us rather quickly and with practiced ease covered up and not at all dislodged in the process, Yoongi’s face buried in the furs next to my head body a welcomed weight atop of me.

Loving the warmth, the heat, and most importantly his embrace I always am fascinated when I feel his heart beating against me, our chest somewhat aligned. Patient like he was with me, I keep still hands treading through his hair occasionally running up his rigged horns silently appreciating him as I hum the lullaby from before.

‘’I should teach you common sense.’’ Is the first thing he says, voice half muffled by the furs. I hum in question curious at his words, hands stopping briefly as he moves his head to the side his breath ghosting over the right side of my face ‘’Giggling when facing dragons, or growling beasts. It is not a wise thing to do.’’

At his explanation I burst into laughter, my lover catching me entirely of guard, my voice echoing as light begins to flood slowly but surely into the cave morning rising.

‘’Ah human.’’ He growls affectionately ‘’My beloved human.’’

Copyright 2023© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

[twigg96]

Ashes

Negan x Reader

Song fic based on Ashes by The Longest Johns

POV: You/Negan

Pronouns: You, Wife

Warnings: Negan being Negan, Angst, Loss of Self, Death, Character Death, Major Character Death, TWD realness, gore, blood, emotional abuse, physical abuse, cheating, adulatory, misogyny, loss, grief, the use of Lucile, Glenn and Abraham scene, Spoilers for OG show, Major Canon Divergence

Summary: The story of the love you and Negan had and lost. The rise and fall of Negan and the Saviors to Rick as taken from your perspective as his first wife.

Watch that old fire as it flickers and dies

A strong arm wrapped around your waist guiding you to safety as heavy sobs ripped through your body. The flames burned your skin as you buried your face in the wet rag you husband provided you. The smell of burnt wood filled the air and your lungs making you both cough and gag as you ran as fast as you could. The feeling of your clothes singing and catching with the flames was a pain miniscule compared to the emotional pain.

That once blessed the household and lit up our lives

Looking to your once bountiful dining room table you tried to imagine when was the last you both felt happy. Before the illness rolled through the town and took the lives of your neighbors and you had to board up your doors. Before you had to ration what you had and the heating oil had run out. Before Negan started using the fireplace to heat the house in the winter with the wooden furniture you had in the house. Bursting through the threshold Negan and you turned to the house you both once called a home. Memories rose with the smoke. You tried your damnedest to hold back your wails but they slipped though.

It shone for the friends and the clinking of glasses

Singed photographs fluttered down in the wind as if taunting your despair. Your wedding photo, photographs of the two of you graduating together, your daughter's baby picture all turning to ash in front of you. The glass windows of your home burst out with the heat and you could hear the glass inside your house shattering as the wood holding it gave out. The roar of the flames was all encompassing and even from several feet away the heat was too much.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

From deep within the white flames that licked and ate the home you and Negan once built for yourself, emerged a small figure. It's skin badly burnt. It's eyes glazed over. You screamed trying to run over to it, to her. But Negan's strong arms held you firmly in place. His face was twisted in heart wrenching anguish as he pulled you to the ground with him. "It's not her." He chanted like a prayer to you despite the way his voice cracked and broke with pain. Pushing your head down so you were facing the damp ground he ran his hands through your hair. "Stay here... I-I'll be back."

Capture the wild things and bring them in line

Your husband was never the same after that night... but neither were you. Negan's heart for anyone besides you had hardened. The two of you searched the area for anything you could use. Negan found a bat that he lovingly named Lucille and wrapped in barbed wire. Together you made a name for yourselves. The Saviors. It started off innocently enough. You went around offering your services to take down walkers and... people that were causing problems to those that gave you both shelter for the night. Over time you realized... you were good at what you did.

And own what was never your right to confine

Negan... gathered the souls of people who were the most helpful to him and his cause. It started by recruiting. Offering jobs and expanding his little empire. Soon you were traveling with twenty to thirty people at a time. All of those that swore their loyalty to Negan, even going so far as to take his first name. It unnerved you some. But you would never say it out loud. Not when the fear of loosing so much was at stake. But the first time came that Negan wanted someone. Their family, or a group holding them back from coming between them following him and leaving. Negan became irate. He made his men hold the "recruit's" family down, guns at the ready. You felt sick watching.

The lives and the loves and the songs are what matters

When it was all over, the blood still warm and fresh and your adrenaline still high you pulled your husband aside. "This isn't right." You tried to reason. "We need to stay unified. focus on the good. Not tear apart other families." You begged. But your pleas fell on deaf ears. He just squinted his eyes at you. "Are you questioning me? After everything I did for you?" He asked, his voice dripping in a venom that you heard him use with his men but never you. Flinching away you tried to stand strong.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

"No I would never..." You whispered, turning your gaze to the ground as he stepped closer, the light of the camp fire eliminating his figure. Leaning closer you could feel his breath hot and heavy on your ear through your hair. "Prove it." He whispered. Your eyes widened as the men all around you both jeered and snickered. "W-What?" You asked blinking up at him confusedly. Negan sneered down at you. "You heard me. I want you my wife, to prove your loyalty to me..." He muttered confidently, pointing that nasty bat at you. But you stood tall glaring at Negan. "C'mon, darling. I had all my boys say it. Now. It's your turn. If you don't..." He took a practice swing that made you wince away, hot tears stinging your eyes. You felt your bottom lip quivering as you tore your eyes from Negan's. "I-I am your wife Negan." You whimpered. But that wasn't enough. Stepping closer Negan grasped your hair. "Say it." He growled, his eyes glimmered in the flames. "I am Negan." Your voice wavered in fear as he released you.

Do you feel heavy? Your eyes drop with grief

Staring in terror and grief down at the closest thing you made to a friend in this hell you tried your damnedest not to let your sobs escape your throat. You tried to ignore the way his blood soaked through the all too tight black dress Negan forced you to wear. His mangled corpse laid still bleeding as his widow was held back by her hair and body. Her wails and screams echo against the empty alley you all stand in. Negan pranced around his corpse for a moment. "Damn what a pretty picture." He said coyly, pointing Lucile at you. "Look at how hot my wife looks right now... that's right my. wife... Keep it in mind when anyone wants to try and touch her again." He growled turning to the widow. "Take her home. I think I want to make that hottie my wife too." He said a smirk blooming across his face as his eyes meet yours and your heart breaks ever the more.

Your spirit is wild and your suffering is brief

Changing into more comfortable clothing within the confines of your little room in the Sanctuary you sighed. You had never thought it when it when it first started but once Negan took on more wives, and more communities his attention had been split more ways than he had time for. There were often times you didn't see him for days now. Confined to your room in the Sanctuary, along with the other wives. In the beginning you would never had dreamt of this. You had thought you would have been crumpled to the ground, wailing or whimpering begging for him to come home if he ever left you. But now as you stood before your full length mirror, holstering your knife to your side you felt stronger and more sure of yourself than you have in a long time.

So never you buckle and bend to the masses

Slipping out of the door as silently as you could you crept to the side door hoping to avoid the front gates covered with walkers and guarded by Negan's recruits. A strong hand grasped your shoulder, halting you in front of the solid metal door. A small gasp escaped your lips as you turned to face the man with the fresh burns on his face. Dwight... the poor man. You pitied him just as much as he did you. His wife was captive by your husband. Pulling the key to your rook from your lanyard you handed it you him. "Give it to your wife when you leave. I don't know when he'll be back. Just don't be seen, and tell her I'll knock when I return." You order taking the side door key in return. With a silent nod he exchanged your room key for the door key letting you slip by seemingly unnoticed.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

When Negan was away the prisoners and recruits all turned to you for leadership. At first you turned them away. You hated what your husband had done to them and refused to be apart of it. But as time wore on... you felt obligated to give them guidance and hope when it seemed like there was none to be had. You tried to keep up a facade around Negan's most loyal followers. You threatened punishments equal or more extreme than your husband. But you were never pushed so far. You helped those around the prison do their chores so that they wouldn't be punished when Negan returned tired and ready to use his fists. You treated the sick and patched the wounded. You made a name for yourself in the prison. The Kind.

Get round the fire with a glass of strong ale

If there was one thing you admired about your husband it was his ability to provide for the people he had accumulated. It wasn't right the way he did it... but it wasn't right to let good food go to waist simply because it was stolen either. And so you tried your best to cook and provide for the people. Your people you came to realize. Those that looked up to you. When it was your turn you always had the least on your plate. You always wanted to make sure everyone's bellies were full before your own.

And tell us a story from beyond the pale

The children who ran around all day came to sit around at night. Those who had only known of the dead that rose asked you and others what it was like before. You tried to give them stories to dream to. To dream to and thrive to. You told them of Great Libraries with their knowledge of plenty. You told them of movie theatres where pictures larger than life that moved on the wall and showed of life in other far away places. Restaurants with all the food they could ever wish for. Some of the children refused to believe such a reality ever existed. Others stared in awe telling you that they would make the world better so that they could get back to that dream.

Bury some seeds and expect some strong branches

When Negan brought back seeds instructing you to use them up by the time he returned. You knew just what to do with them. You instructed the prisoners that worked inside the prison to follow you to the back of the Sanctuary. Digging down as deep as your fingers would let you into the cold earth you instructed them to plant the seeds in lines of like veggies. All day the prisoners worked, planting the seeds and sewing them into the earth. Rain fell from the sky, watering the hope you held for the future as you ushered the prisoners back inside.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Watching the plats grow was one of the most fulfilling feelings you felt in a long time. The children ran and played in the gardens. The little vegetables while too early to pick were good to look at and good motivation for the others to do well at their chores and eat well in the evening. But when you awoke to the smell of smoke rolling through your window you knew that your hopes were shattered and the future was irrevocably changed. Walking out into yard you were met face to face with your pissed off husband. "Which one of you idiots planted these?!" He yelled pointing to the roaring flames that once was the garden. "I did." You muttered stepping forward. Negan glared at you eyeing you seriously. "And what, pray tell did you do that?" He hissed stepping toe to toe with you. But you didn't back down. You refused to. "You told us to do something with the seeds... so w- I did." You said trying to keep your expression as neutral. Negan's face contorted into one of anger and rage. It looked forced. His once bright eyes were dull and emotionless. "Don't do it again..." He muttered, pushing past you to let you watch your future burn in front of you alone.

Now show me a man that can meet all his needs

When you first heard of the man known only as Rick you had believed he would meet his end the same way so many others had before. That his head would be crushed. His community shattered. Or worse. He'd kneel with no issue and his people used as cattle to provide for Negan's ever growing greed. But as time went on and some of Negan's right hand men started to go missing. The outposts raided and destroyed. You had to admit that you felt a little hopeful that someone lived out in the world that could really and truly stand up to your husband. But as his group was stopped, people slaughtered and he was brought to his knees you turned away trying not to let your tears fall for people you didn't know.

For what we need most now is unity's seed

Rick's right hand man was brought back as some sick prize for Negan to parade around the Sanctuary. Daryl Dixon. He was strong willed and even more loyal to his brother. Even when Negan offered him a positions by his side by simply uttering the words you had so long ago, Daryl refused. And for it he was tortured and mutilated. You were relieved when you heard Dwight was his guard. You knew he wouldn't be as harsh as some of the others especially when you offered some time alone with his wife to take it easy on the newcomer. With Negan around more often it was more difficult for you to move around undetected. But you still managed to bring real food to Daryl whenever you had the chance. He didn't trust you and why would he? You didn't trust who you had become either.

A common old song for all creeds and all classes

Sherry had come to you long ago with her wants to escape. It was something she had been planning since the beginning of her capture but with Dwight's torture it was hard for her to break free without him. The day Negan left to face Rick alone, you set the plan in motion. Sherry would take Daryl and run. Just them. You would stay and be an alibi for Dwight. The man would be hunted and killed if all three of them left. Daryl ran into you on his way out. "Why?" He growled. "Because... I believe in you."

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

When Negan returned, to say he was pissed was an understatement. But he hid it well. You explained your alibi to him for Dwight. And while it worked for the mean time, when D. went missing looking for Sherry, Negan didn't seem too pressed to find him. His eyes were trained on you. Keeping you close to him for the first time in years he told you at night when you both laid under the covers it was to keep you safe. That he was thinking about you the entire time. But you could see the caged look in his eye that an animal gets when trapped. But still, ever the good wife, you held your husband close and stroked his hair trying to sooth him even when the hatred burned inside of you like a raging forest fire.

I'll tend to the flame

When Rick came with all of his men and all of his people ready to attack the Sanctuary you met Daryl's eyes from where he stood hidden. You worked tirelessly to prepare the men in the Sanctuary to fight. To be ready. When the first shot broke the anxious silence you simply snapped your fingers and the guns on the side of the Saviors turned. Negan stood wide eyed in their sights. "W-What-" He stammered, trying to clammer his way out of it. But it was over. You were over. "It done." You muttered, pointing to Rick's people you raised your hands in surrender. "We're done fighting." In return for turning over those who were still loyal to Negan and the man himself, you were given your freedom. "A life for a life." Rick had said. A policy you yourself didn't believe in anymore. Silently you wished they had killed you and your husband. Only you knew the horrors that you both had committed. But they were firm on their decision of repentance. You were still a prisoner and had to prove your worth but for now... in a sense you were free.

What will we do when the world it is ending

Standing in front of the makeshift prison they had in Alexandria you glared down at your husband. Years had passed since you last seen him. You had no real urge to until now. The Whisperers were moving in fast. Crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively you refused to ask for help. But instead, sat in the icy cold rusted metal that sat across the basement from Negan. "You should be in here with me." He tried to blame you. But you knew this for a fact. "I know..." You whispered back, your breath catching in the cold and floating all around you. "I heard that there is someone bigger out there now... heard it through the bars." Negan muttered pointing to the window. "There is." You said pointedly. "Got a plan?" He asked a smirk blossoming on his face. "Don't think you could'a handled them, Ne..." you stated honestly shaking your head solomly, using your old nickname for him. It halted him. He stared up at you with wide eyes, realision crossing his face. "I never-" he started, but you cut him off. "Don't." You shook your head, standing up. "Listen... let me help." He urged, scrambling to his feet. But you shook your head walking over to the doorway to let Morgan back in. "I'm sorry this was a waist of both of... well my time."

And time it is halted for friend and for foe?

Years and years passed still. Negan never once saw you in his cell. Every time he asked for you he was denied. He believed that truly you hated him. And why wouldn't you... after all he did. He hated himself too. When he was released from prison by Carol and told to bring her the head of the one they called Alpha. He hated being told what to do... but he knew this bitch. The Saviors had a run in with them when they were a little piss ant of a community. They were tough even then and he was ready for payback. Doing as he was told he returned expecting to be thrown back in his cell. But when they give him the second chance he is taken aback. Days pass in his new life. He wasn't expecting you to just run into his arms but when you never showed up at all it worried him.

Try to hold on to the time as it passes

Walking up to Carol he cleared his throat announcing his presence. "Hey." he muttered to the grey haired woman. She didn't smile or greet him instead she nodded, eyeing him warily. "Was wondering if ya seen my wife around here somewhere..." Negan muttered, wincing away at the glare Carol sent him. "Which one? None of them want to see you." She bit back. Negan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. He supposed he deserved that. "[Y/N]." He stated softly, watching as Carol's face softened some. "Oh..." She whispered so softly it was barely audible. "No one told you yet?" She asked. "Told me what?"

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Walking side by side through Alexandria Carol escorted Negan to a large but beautiful expanse of land. The grass and flowers grew vibrantly but it was all dulled by the makeshift crosses scattered across the field.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Leading Negan by the wrist past various graves marked with crosses and carved names Carol stopped by a large but old evergreen tree. It cast it's shade over the graves cooling the heat of the day making it barrable to stand.

I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

Pointing to a little grave directly under the tree Carol frowned. "She died protecting everyone. She went a hero." Carol tried to console him. But the burning in his chest was overwhelming and the cry that escaped his throat was inevitable as he crumbled to his knees. Gripping the grass around the grave he begged and pleaded for you to come back. For it to be a joke. But when only the whistling of the pines responded he knew... He only had himself to blame.

[avonne-writes]

Balance

Lucemond, arranged marriage smut, 700 words

On AO3

A drop of sweat swells in the hollow between Luke's clavicles. The soft linen of his bed sticks to his back, cloud-light fabric woven with threads of gold befitting a royal marriage. His legs are spread to the edge of pain, an ache settled deep and unrelenting in his hips as his husband's weight pins him to the bedding. Where the hot brand of a palm kneads at his inner thigh, his flesh sizzles with pleasure, and he squirms for more of it, for the force to quench his hunger. Candlelight flickers on the coloured windows. 

Luke's eyes close. 

His chambers are hot and stuffy with the scent of crushed flowers. Jasmine, rose and ambrette from the Queen's garden. To ensure vigour, a servant said before she left him with the marble-cold figure of his husband. They stared at each other from opposite sides of a room split by a ray of moonlight. Flames reflected in sapphire, embers simmering in a dark brown gaze.

Are you going to fight? Aemond hissed under his breath, wary but eager in the same frightening way Luke was. Luke bared his teeth. 

Theirs is a marriage of necessity, but there's obsession and desire weaved into their resentment, and Luke loved the thrill of the fight more than the purpose of it. He loved it even more when Aemond's icy grip overpowered him. Gods, you are nervous, he taunted through a laugh and got kissed breathless for it. 

Aemond doesn't feel cool to the touch anymore, his nerves lost to his lust now. His warmth is the heat of a dragon as it prepares to devour its next meal, hard lines against Luke's chest and down where he craves him the most, and his breathing licks at Luke's lips like fire. 

"Good boy." Aemond dips his chin down to steal a kiss, a bite of sweet peach as Luke opens up for him. "Mine now. Mine to have as I please." 

"You wish." Luke chuckles. "As I please."

The next thrusts rock him deeper, but Aemond doesn't protest his words. As the loud slapping of their bodies echoes through the room, he seals his lips to Luke's skin and trails down over its heaving planes until he finds that ticklish little hollow where Luke's heart pounds, and soaks the saltwater right up from it. His sated sigh is the brush of a spring breeze. All Luke wants is to whine and whimper and beg him to make the pleasure peak, but he keeps his mouth locked, not willing to grant the sounds of his bliss to the maester listening dutifully behind the door. They're his and Aemond's only. His wedding night may be an affair of politics but his joy will remain his.

"Is it hard enough?" Aemond whispers into his ear. Barely-there stubble pressed tight to Luke's cheek. His back is slippery under Luke's hands, the moonstone spill of his hair stuck to the crease of Luke's elbows and the damp space between their chests. 

"I need more." Luke swallows around a desperate sound. "Higher."

His fingernails carve their love into the muscles shifting in his embrace and draw a hiss. Aemond captures Luke's hands in his rough touch, splaying Luke's softer fingers apart on the mattress, wedging between them and squeezing. Luke squeezes back. 

They stop fighting their bliss to fly on it instead.

 

 

When the waves are settled and there's nothing left to chase, they bask in the quiet glow of the candles for long minutes. Luke finds that he enjoys this almost as much as his first time being taken - being able to stroke Aemond's drowsy, naked body is a wedding gift to himself. 

The maester cracks the door open, peeking in to check what he needs to, but Aemond just fits his hand around Luke's jaw and turns his head away from the man to kiss him. Luke lets him taste his mouth to his heart's desire. 

"Most unusual." The maester mumbles but leaves them to it. 

Luke smiles. Aemond smells like fire and the thin air high up in the skies, and he wonders if his own scent is the sea that pushes them into a balance of souls.

[zablife]

Stay

Bonnie x fiance reader

Summary: It’s the night before your wedding to Bonnie, but you can’t sleep because of a raging thunderstorm. Despite tradition, he visits you to calm your nerves. 

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @christinasyellowflowers. I hope you enjoy it! 

Warnings: loads of fluff 

The thunder rumbled quietly in the distance and you burrowed beneath the thin quilt shivering. It wasn’t that you were cold in the summer air, quite the contrary. You would have kicked the covers from your body had you felt safe. Tonight, the buzzing static of the impending storm made you fearful and the blanket was a childish way of keeping a buffer between you and the storm threatening to disrupt your beauty rest. 

As the storm drew closer, the thunder crashed over the vardo, shaking the walls. Your fright only intensified watching the jagged streaks of silver and white slice the sky in half outside your window. You screwed your eyes shut tightly, but the bright light still forged a path inside your eyelids, painting the scene of a childhood memory you’d rather forget.

You’d witnessed lightning strike a caravan once as a youngster and you’d never forgotten the raging fire that ensued. As you and your sisters watched the flames lick at the cracking paint, they drowned out the sounds of the crackling fire with their harsh whispers about a curse.

Although it had only been a silly game to your siblings, another ghost story to frighten the youngest, most gullible member of the family, the awful image and the terror stayed with you into adulthood. Your heartbeat always quickened and your body shook at the sound of thunder which made you feel foolish when you were old enough to observe that storms didn’t have this kind of effect on other people. It made you self conscious as you matured and you hid your anxiety as best you could. 

Bonnie had noticed it for the first time two summers ago when you were strolling hand in hand through the tall grass of the fields. Lost in pleasant conversation, your laughter abruptly turned to silence as rain clouds rolled ominously across the sky, obscuring the sunlight. Bonnie suggested a leisurely walk home as soft rain began to fall. At first, you enjoyed a carefree moment with your lover.

However, as soon as a loud clap of thunder echoed across the sky, your loose grasp on his hand turned to a desperate grip. When a flash of lightning crossed the sky, you crashed your body into his, making yourself small against him and ducked your head into his broad chest. Bonnie stroked your back gently, asking why you were so frightened and you told him everything. From that day on, Bonnie would find you whenever a storm was approaching. He would sit and hold you in his arms until the wind and rain subsided, distracting you with idle chatter.  

Tonight would be different. He wouldn’t be allowed to see you the night before your wedding unless you both wanted bad luck in your marriage. You sighed deeply at the thought of being awake all night, arriving at your wedding with dark circles under your eyes.

You began to cry out of frustration, shaking at the sound of the wind beating the shudders against the window. The storm was just picking up strength and would probably last the evening. As your dread grew so did your sobs. You found yourself hiccuping as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest.

Suddenly you felt a large hand on your shoulder and you gasped loudly. “Shhh, little dove. It’s only me,” you heard Bonnie’s voice call out to you in the darkness. 

“Bon, what are you doing here?” you asked in surprise, turning to face your fiancé. 

“I couldn’t leave you alone when I knew you needed me. Traditions be damned,” he said earnestly. He sat on the edge of your bed as another streak of lightning illuminated the vardo. He caught sight of your tear stained face and a pained look settled over his handsome features. He reached out to wipe your tears away with the pad of his thumb hushing you softly. “Oh, my sweetheart, it’s going to be alright. I’m here now,” he said, pulling you into an embrace. You clutched onto him and held tightly to his shoulders over his rain soaked clothing. 

“Bonnie, you’re all wet, love,” you sniffled. He looked down at his dripping wet shirt as though he’d just realized the puddle he was creating on the blankets.

“I’m sorry, I’ll take it off…if that’s alright?” he said halting with his arms halfway up his chest. You giggled and nodded. He discarded his wet shirt and mud caked shoes on the floor and moved to sit behind you on the bed, creating a cradle for you to rest your head upon his chest and arms on his knees. You were protected on all sides by his body and finally sighed in relief. He moved the hair from your shoulder and began mindlessly combing his fingers through your locks as you sat together in silence. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his fingers kneading your scalp soothingly. 

When he felt your tense muscles relax, he picked up sections of your hair and began mindlessly braiding. He loved caring for you this way. It was a ritual he’d begun after your engagement when you were left alone by the fire at night. Afterward he would walk you to the steps of your vardo for a soft goodnight kiss. It was one of your favorite traditions and you thought of how much you would miss it when you were married. You realized now he would continue the tradition in bed and it warmed your heart. 

“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” he asked gently placing the braid over your shoulder with a kiss to your cheek. You shook your head softly, intertwining your fingers with his atop the quilt.  

“No, I wish I could rest a bit though. I’ll look so ugly tomorrow if I don’t sleep,” you lamented.

Bonnie chuckled lightly. “Don’t see how that’s possible. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You felt your cheeks flush in the dark at Bonnie’s compliment. You were comforted with him close by and you wished he could stay with you. Feeling a wave of courage you turned to look him in the eye. Placing a hand on his cheek you asked, “Will you stay with me tonight…please?”

You felt Bonnie gulp and heard him take a deep breath. You knew he hated denying you anything. However, you also knew he held a deep respect for your family and would never do anything to dishonor you. You could practically hear his mind working to weigh the options.

“Your father is next door, dove. I risked my skin to come see you as it is. If anyone found us..,” he continued in a hushed voice growing louder with nervous agitation. 

You placed a finger over his lips to quiet him. You lifted the chain of Bonnie’s pocket watch and squinted in the dim light. “It’s after midnight, Bon. I’ll be Mrs. Gold in a few hours. What difference does it make now, hmm?” You ran a hand over his chest to feel his heart thundering in his chest.

At that moment a harsh gust of rain hit the side of the vardo and a loud clap of thunder boomed overhead. You buried your head into Bonnie and clasped your hands around his waist tightly. “Stay and hold me, Bon. We won't do anything improper,” you pleaded softly. 

Bonnie stroked down the soft skin of your arms gently. “Of course, I’ll stay," he promised, placing a kiss to the top of your head. He nestled down into your bed and pulled you into his side to make room for you both in the small bed. You instantly felt calmed by the weight of his arm slung over you protectively. You inhaled his familiar scent and let his heartbeat lull you into the most peaceful slumber you'd ever known.

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[the-scandalorian]

i just saw the drowning ask and was wondering, what if the reader was stuck in The Sanctuary when the Pyke's camtono went off?? sorry but imagining din running into a burning building to save me tickles my brain >:)

here you go, anon! 🧡

gn!reader cw: near-death experience, injury, blood, descriptions of burns and dead bodies, angst, mutual pining, Mando carries reader to safety, tbobf spoilers

You tell Mando that you're going to get a drink. What you really need is space.

To think. To make a plan. To decide if and how you should tell an impenetrable wall of beskar—a man whose face you've never seen—that you're in love with him.

The realization has been creeping up on you for months, but it hit you full in the face when he left you on Tatooine for a few weeks to search for the scattered remains of his covert.

His absence ached.

Mando has been back for a couple days, and now that you know, you don't think you can keep this truth to yourself for long...not when he always insists on being so him all the time. He's constantly doing infuriatingly sweet things, like untying his cape and draping it around your shoulders when he notices you're cold. Or settling a large hand on your lower back when situations get tense. Or walking all the way to Garsa's Sanctuary with you even though he was never planning to stay.

You're fairly certain those things don't mean what you want them to mean. That's just how he is—thoughtful, observant, selfless. He's like that with all his friends.

And that's what you are. Friends.

Mando wouldn't have paid thousands of credits for a starship with one adult-sized seat if he wanted to keep you around. Seeing it today—when you stopped by Peli's with him to check on its status—stung.

So you're sipping a fruity drink at the bar and feeling sorry for yourself when it happens.

There's a bang so loud that the music from the band is replaced by the constant, one-note peal of a bell. Milliseconds later—before you can react to the sound—blistering heat hits your back like a slab of duracrete, and you're thrown clear over the bar, landing like a ragdoll against the wall.

Searing pain engulfs your body. Ceaseless ringing steals your hearing. Smoke and flame black out what's left of your blurry vision.

Nothingness beckons, closes two charred hands around your throat and chokes.

The last conscious thought that flits through your foggy mind is that Mando knows where you are.

He'll come.

Then, darkness.

*** Din hears the explosion from a few blocks away, and dread drops into his stomach like a stone. Immediately, he turns on his heel and is in the air, hurtling toward the billowing smoke.

It's coming from exactly where he feared.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and lets the quiet clarity of determination settle over him.

Moments later, he touches down and rips what remains of the warped back door off its metal track. He throws it aside with a grunt and rushes inside, adrenaline punching through his veins. Right away, the heat is stifling—heavy and oppressive—and he can barely see through the swirling black clouds and the hungry, licking flames.

The filter on his helmet keeps the fumes out, feeding him a steady supply of clean air, so he sprints through the smoky maze of Garsa's Sanctuary, steering clear of the worst of the blaze and the places where towering piles of rubble block his path. You said you wanted a drink, so he makes his way to the front room, to the bar.

Panic rends his chest when he sees the state of it. Burning, collapsed. Half demolished.

The worst of the wreckage, where bodies are scorched to dust, marks the epicenter of the explosion.

It's so close to the bar.

So close to where you must have been sitting.

All at once, everything Din has wanted to say to you, everything he's held back for months starts to climb up the back of his throat like bile. It cracks the steel of his composure.

He tastes ash and blood and the sharp venom of regret.

The myriad ways he's tried to push you away—to protect you—prick at his consciousness like wasps. Why? Why did he think pushing you away made any sense at all?

He swallows past the urge to be sick and scans the room. The all-encompassing heat of the fire renders his thermal readout useless, so he approaches what remains of the bar and crouches low to see under the thick blanket of smoke.

His heart stops when his eyes land on you. You're in a heap, half-covered in rubble, the right side of your face slick with blood.

He launches himself forward and drops to his knees, ripping pieces of debris off your body—roof tiles and splintered barstools and shattered bottles—as fast as he can.

No no no.

He drags you onto his lap, hauling your limp form across his thighs, your head cradled in the crook of his elbow.

A pressure closes tightly around his lungs when he assesses the full state of you. You're broken and bloodied, the skin of your back blistered with severe burns.

His heart finally starts again—stuttering back to life like a reluctant speeder—when he gets a clear readout on your pulse. It's slow but there. Weak but enduring. You're alive. He ducks his head, and he can tell you're just barely breathing, your chest rising in shallow, gasping inhales.

Without a second thought, he rips his helmet off his head and lowers it carefully over yours. When he's sure the seal is in place, he staggers to his feet, your unresponsive body clutched close to his chest.

Hold on just a little longer, he thinks.

Please.

Din chokes on acrid smoke, retching as he runs to the other side of the large room, where part of the ceiling is caved in. At the first glimpse of distant blue sky, he launches himself into the air and ignites his jetpack in one smooth movement.

*** When you gradually drift back toward consciousness, you're met with a new nightmare. Trapped, submerged, tied down. In the twilit space between sleep and wake, you thrash against your restraints and try to call out, but you find that you can't. You're gagged.

Before you can really start to panic, you're ripped from that reality and thrust into a different one by the sudden influx of cool air. The water around you drains. Your eyes snap open.

You blink away the residual wetness—once, twice—and slowly, things come into focus. An unfamiliar face looks down at you.

Handsome. Kind eyes.

You try to speak and realize that there's a regulator in your mouth. You pull it out and sit up carefully, looking around the room, trying to make sense of your surroundings.

Bacta tank. Boba's palace.

You look up at the man again—he's watching you warily, shyly, his hands fidgeting by his sides like he doesn't know what to do—and you finally register what he's wearing. Mando's armor.

What the—

He speaks, and your jaw drops. "How are you feel—?"

"M-mando?"

He lifts one hand to his face, like he'd forgotten he isn't wearing his helmet.

You gasp and slap a hand over your eyes, knowing full-well that it's too late. You've ruined it. You've seen him, and now his broken Creed has been thrown even further into disrepair.

A warm hand closes around your wrist, and he eases it away from your face. You keep your eyes shut tight, shaking your head.

"It's okay," he says, his voice low. It's smoother without the modulator, more nuanced.

"No, I'm sorry—I—I didn't mean to—"

Mando says your name, and his large hands frame your cheeks, tipping your face up. "I want you to look."

Your heart squeezes at his words, but you wait another beat, sure this must be some kind of mistake.

"Look at me. Please."

The quiet hitch in his plea convinces you.

Slowly, you meet his warm, amber-flecked eyes—his rich, brown irises are shot with threads of gold, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the window behind you.

He looks nervous, his hands hesitant on your cheeks, his gaze flickering over your face. You smile up at him, and he answers with his own tentative one, his lips pulling up on one side.

You take in his messy hair, his salt-and-pepper stubble, his perfect bow-shaped lips, the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallows. His neck. Freckled, corded, kissable—

He asks the question that you're thinking.

"Can I—can I kiss you?"

[moonlightwritesdisney]

YOU. — Wyatt Lykensen

Pairing: Wyatt Lykensen X FEMALE! READER

Requested: Yes / No

Warnings: vulgar swearing. descriptions of blood. unhealthy behavior. mentions of rape.

Author’s Note: please note that you (the reader) and wyatt are both adults in this image. Just to clear up any confusion!

Summary: The first time he saw you he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He follows you everywhere. He gets jealous when he sees you invite a friend over for old times sake. Things go way to far. You will be his.

HE ALLOWED THE LOUD CHATTER and birds song in the bright summer square of ZombieTown to be slowly drowned out by all his pulsing thoughts. He stood in the distance observing you. Out of all the people that passed by blocking his view, he kept his hard eye on you.

 The way your soft brunette curls laid untouched just inches away from your descending chest. Echoes of your honey dripping laugh rang through his twitching ears. The jealously and anger only grew worse.

Unbeknownst to you, not aware of the wolf watching you had just finished a few hours of shopping, you were making your way down towards the central parking just by ZombieTown’s large water fountain before you were stopped by an old school friend — who was male. 

He was so surprised to see, he complimented you and watched you laugh in sweetness. Both of you stood their for at least 20 minutes catching up on old burnt out memories he was trying to re-flame. He could read your mind. He felt the same as you. He knew you were uncomfortable and wanted to make a fast escape. You didn’t trust this guy but.

“Hey uhm- i was actually wondering if you’d like to have dinner and a movie tonight?” Was this guy serious? After a twenty minute conversation?! You weren’t one to be rude because of your passive personality. “Oh — uhm sure! I’d like that. I’ll be there at seven o’clock”.

 And with that you were off and on your way home. Wyatt watched as you retreated towards the silver Cadillac you owned in the parking lot. He watched all around him. He glared at the young man who was walking the opposite way. That dumb human. He couldn’t stand a chance against him.

Nonetheless, he knew you’d be his one day. He’d let you have the little amount of happiness this human could spare for a while. He’d imagine you helpless crying and running straight into his arms. The way your head laid on his shoulder while he rubbed your back in a calming manner.

 Leaving little kisses on our neck when he was in the mood, the warm feeling of both your sweaty bodies pressed together in pure erotic euphoria. Tingles ran down his spine as he imagines your soft smile in his mind. His heart raced at the thought of your body. Every curve and edge. All the imperfections you could name he’d find absolutely exhilarating.

“Hey man, curfew’s almost up you have to leave”. Another voice snapped him out of deep personal thoughts, he eyed a stern looking officer dressed in a blue SeaBrook uniform, who was very tired and just wanted to go home. He nodded his way respectfully and exited the shopping plaza. The walk to your house wasn’t long. 

The city had separate ZombieTown’s main housing and shopping lot so you had to drive at least a small distance to venture for a desired shopping day. He had taken the path towards your small apartment plenty of times, along with being a wolf came with advanced speed so he made due time. The sky swirled with light pinks and oranges making a beautiful sunset in the small town.

The crunching of grass under his feet made his anxious as he took a deep breathe, his footsteps became silent in worries of you discovering him. He stood calmly in your background his ears twitching hearing you humming to yourself softly — he figured you were in the shower getting ready for you date.

A scoff left his red lips in jealousy, he hated that it wasn’t him. ‘in due time’. He thought to himself confidently as he caught attention to light fogs of steam arising from the running shower. Now, Wyatt was no prude but he absolutely couldn’t resist. His curious brown eyes peered above the brick ledge.

A gasp hitched in his throat. His heart could explode at any moment. Their you stood, pampering yourself in the shower. Looking ever so beautiful. The water dripping down your pale dark skin. Your green textured hair soaking up the moisture from the water. 

He bit down on his lip as goosebumps shot up his back. You were marvelous. Your beautiful voice flowing through his ears as you sung. His eyes grew yellow, his animalistic nature taking full control. Fangs flashed from his mouth.

He tightened his fist in frustration. He wanted to take you right then and there. ‘All mine’. He thought as he found himself skewing up dirty — unholy images in his mind of him senselessly fucking you, clinging to him as you screamed his name. He knew it was wrong. The tightening he felt in his boxers was painful. Too painful to even bear. He wanted you, every inch. 

To him you were everything. All his. After having to agonize through his painful boner he regained composure after zipping up his pale brown pants and moved stalkingly towards the right his eyes casting view into your bedroom window, the soft white shades slightly parted allowing him to see through.

Different collages and pictures of close friends and things you adored plastered all over your walls. Small shelves that held small knickknacks and small plants lightly attracting ray of sunlight bent at the wall. Your bed, freshly made with the soft maroon red and pillows with the dark hues of blue designed with golden tassels laid neatly, untouched.

 You were somewhat messy, but very articulate and decorative. Which he adored. Small white bookshelves filled to the end with large literature of your liking. Pushed up against your light grey accent wall. Posters and cute pieces of art made by yourself were taped just above your bed post.

He adored your room. It was full of positivity, light, and all things that you adored. The sweet vanilla and shea scent from your body streamed into his nose like a running river. Licking his lips in anticipation he closed his eyes and exhaled your delectable scent. 

You walks into the small atmosphere the cold air hitting your bare legs, missing the warmth of the water and steam capture your body in a relaxing shower. It was a sewer green like color to which your full cheeks spread into a large smile ‘perfect’.

After reaching for a pair of distressed and ripped jeans that you had seen in the corner of your eye you pulled down the chain to your light which shut off you quickly threw your clothing on your bed and sat down on the edge freeing the sparkling red cap on your lotion squeezing the lotion onto your hand. 

It smelt amazing, ever since zombies had fought for more equality from the humans. Zombies from everywhere where now able to walk into any store much to the similar human version of their Victoria Secret and others. To which they could by all sorts of cute lipglosses, lotions, night wear, and clothing. The sweet deep smell of cinnamon and rose entered your nostrils as you rubbed the lotion into your calves working your way up to the top of your thighs.

The black pupils widened in arousel and wonder as he stared into the inside of your window without your knowledge — your hands slowly rubbing the white substance on the curve of your plush butt. He was awe stricken, so captivated by the goddess he had known as you. His heart thumped wildly in his chest he couldn’t get enough of you.

 Your finger pulled up the red belt loops of the maroon jeans your legs fitted around, securing the gold buttons of your jeans into the red holes in front. You sighed and fumbled with the thin green fabric you scrunched up the material and pushed your head through, then your arms.

You stood in front of the large white rimmed body mirror that leaned against the back wall with a cute colorful tapestry laid over it with pictures of close friends and fun stickers plastered on the corners of the glass. You loved the way your outfit looked. You felt very satisfied. A huge smile spread across your cheeks. The left of your head swung towards the opening crack of your door — the ring of your front doorbell. 

You drowned in confusion, your eyes reached over to read the square alarm clock on your night side table. ‘6:24’. ‘He is only twenty minutes early’. Which you thought was very weird. You had just met back with your old elementary friend hours ago , and only after having a seemingly awkward conversation for twenty minutes you agree to go on a date but he’s twenty minutes early?!

You pondered at the all the possibilities as to why he suggested this. But nonetheless you shook the feeling away and picking up your towel placing it in your pale green clothing hamper. Stepping out of your room and down into the wide hallway your fingers wrapped around the chilling gold door handle and yanked it open.

 There he stood, bouncing eagerly on his toes. His hair slicked back with hair spray, the clothing he wore was doused with heavy calogne — the foul heavy smell of the body spray stung at your nose the second you opened your front door. Which was something you didn’t find attractive at all. The wide smile he wore seemed like it was too toiled. Like he was trying to hard. His clothes. Ew.

He wore a bright blue and white plaid buttoned, with a black lambskin jacket over it unbuttoned, dark blue low waisted jeans and light brown flats. Yikes. How human of him. You absolutely hated what he was wearing. You knew he was being desperate. You could see it in his body language and his expression. You spotted bright red roses — in front of him you would have scoffed and sent him away.

 If he truly remembered you he would have remembered you like sunflowers instead of basic red roses. How bland. But instead, you gave him the benefit of the doubt. You knew the crippling and heart breaking sorrow of rejection, you were a zombie of course so being cast out was something you knew all to well. Instead you tilted your head to the side and forced your cheeks into a great smile.

“Are these flowers for me?” You asked clasping your hands together. He looked down then up at your a small smirk plastering on his thin lips — ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT SIR PLEASE GOD SO DISGUSTING’. These thoughts screamed in your mind as you watched him with pure unattractive as his licked his lips “yes they are actually”.

 He said with a very man-ly chuckle “they reminded me of you so I picked them up at the zombie market in town on my way here”. As if this dude wasn’t trying hard enough. He truly had to glamorize the fact that he picked the flowers up at a zombie store instead of the regular human one. So he was racist and trying to hard. Great. You let out an awkward laugh and stepped aside allowing him in before the air became filled with his disgusting aroma.

You had retrieved the flowers from his hand and immediately threw them carelessly on the counter. He didn’t question it but instead following closely behind you. ‘I’ll burn them later’. You thought with a pleasing smirk that played on your face. He had already sat down in your living space his flats sprawled on the floor and his feet kicked up on your glass coffee table. Dog behavior. You rolled your eyes he was stupid and too dumb to even understand basic manners.

 Football was playing on your small flat screen, you had taken a seat next to him your feet flat on the floor, your toes curling in the soft plush carpet. “Would you like something to drink?” you asked politely, the man turned his attention towards you, a curl in his lip “hm sure, the finest wine you’ve got?” He requested you stood up and went into the small kitchen opening the oak cabinet next to the sink you had set both wine glasses down on the marble countertop. 

The dark brown hues in your eyes scanned out the closed window above your sink watching the bright pink sky combine with beautiful colors of orange and red cascading over the oval clouds. You twisted the cork out of the bottle of white wine you had just bought from ‘Z’s Gruesome Groceriez” in ZombieTown. 

You wondered if this human had tasted zombie issued wine before, since well zombie wine was a lot more bitter than regular human liquor / wine. It had a hint of brains. You shrugged with a ‘hmp’. ‘He’s too dumb to even notice anyway’.

After filling both glasses to the half point you held both of them in your hands and carefully walked back into the living room where the human sat on your white leather couch his eyes and full attention soaking into the fourth quarter and a fumbling ball. 

You cleared your throat to catch his attention, he smiled towards you and took the wine glass from your right hand and thanked you focusing his content back on the television. “So .. what are you doing for work now?” you asked trying to break the awkward tension to which he perked up after taking a small sip and setting it down.

 “Oh well I’d never thought you’d ask, I work as SeaBrook patrolman, you?” You ignored the sting in your gut “I work as a journalist and a proud activist for the Zombie’s and Werewolves’ against discrimination movement, or ZAWAD, it supports the bright culture of both werewolves and zombies and brings everyone together. 

We try to unite the communities in SeaBrook instead of pushing away and we absolutely do try our best too peacefully speak our thoughts and have mindful conversations without violence.” 

You spoke proudly watching his intense expression burn into your eyes. He nodded slowly and pursed his lips which confused you nonetheless you still tried to ignore the screaming inside your head and gut ‘make him leave’. ‘this is going to end badly’. Chills scattered down your back in anxiousness.

 “That’s interesting and ... very sexy actually, your very passionate about it i can tell”. You internally cringed at that word coming out of his mouth. ‘Sexy’. He definitely wanted something, and it wasn’t a genuine conversation. You froze with disgust his nimble tender cold fingers resting on your knee. “oh uhm, thanks i guess”.

 You spoke trying to give him the hint, you weren’t interested even  if he was the last person on earth you wouldn’t. His hand inched closer towards your inner thigh a evil smirk plastered on his face. “god your so sexy”. He then leaned his lips towards yours capturing you in his grasp. You didn’t give an inch, you squealed in protest.

 You moved your arms to his biceps and tried to push him way from you , he refused now he was on top of you. His rough calloused hands slide up towards your collarbone, you groaned in anger “can you please just stop-- STOP!”  You shouted, his breathe was hot against your neck his left hand slide up towards your neck and pressed down onto your windpipe. 

You gasped gritting your teeth, you used your right hand to try and push him off but his strength held your arm down. You felt helpless, weak, worthless to know that you had somehow allowed this disgusting being to get ahold of you. That is, until you felt him grasping the metal of your Z-band. 

You knew that taking it off could potentially be a very dangerous action, which was only to be taken off in emergencies only. This was a very big problem and it needed to be stopped. His hand gripped the clasp of your band, you felt the dark veins pulsating throughout your body. 

Using the strength to lift your left hand which caused a small chime from your Z-band to sound, it unclasped from you wrist and fell somewhere on the floor. In just a few seconds the light around your eyes had turned a deep purple cracks plunging from under them. A low growl erupted from your stomach then submerged to your throat. 

The man felt you vibrate from below him, he had suddenly noticed you had changed. He gasped and stood up as you growled and snarled, you inched closer towards him as he took steps back defensively. “Stay the hell away from me you bitch!” He shouted sternly but the anger was hot and boiling inside of you. 

Turning into a zombie was something you couldn’t control. It was coded in your genes. Once your Z-band was ripped from you the monster took over inside you, just as it did for anyone. Your vision had turned completely red. The low grumbles and growling roared within you, this is what you were. A monster, and damn, were you proud of it. 

You stepped closer to the cowering man as he flared his arms towards you, which unfortunately, only agitated you more. In this moment you were gone, the zombie inside you was controlling you, and you smelt fear. Which was a bad thing. “Your a waste of human life”. Your normal quiet spoken speech had transformed into a lower deep growl. Using your zombie strength you grabbed the human by his leather collar and bite deeply into his neck, the loud scream leaving the dry of his throat. 

The blood seeped out of his neck like a river, you lifted him to meet eyes with a demon like growl “next time you better stop”. You seethed before letting him drop to the ground, the now scared human scrambled towards his feet holding the gushing wound his hand covered in red. He disappeared out of the living space and out of your life forever. Or at least you hoped he did. Grunting you walked over towards the crack between the couch and the pale wall, getting on your hands and knees you reach down for the metal bracelet. 

After securing it in your grasp you immediately push the clasps together around you wrist. ‘Online’. You let a content sigh slumping back beside the wall the dark veins in your arms slowly recoiled from your arms and legs. Your back ached and your head pounded. The sweet tasting blood of the humans still resting on your lips and along your cheeks. 

Finally, after about a few seconds you steadily returned to your feet. Ignoring the few blood spatters that were now fresh on the floor. ‘I’ll clean it up later”. You let a deep sigh release from your lips as you picked up the two wine glasses and brought them to the kitchen and discarded of the waste in the sink. 

You were fashioned in the bathroom taking a warm cloth and bringing it towards your face wiping off the dried blood. You sucked in a breathe the sound of your beating heart filling your ears. You didn’t feel at all ashamed for what you had done. That bastard human deserved it.

 The overbearing of your anxiety flared, you were worried you might get in huge trouble, since unfortunately, the human is never to blame. You had gone to bed that night in hopes for a better day the next morning -- the only problem was, he saw everything.   

[btssavedmylifeblr]

Tongue Tied (M)

Genre: SMUT, fluff, crack, demon au (sort of), idol verse, established relationship au, pwp with a side of minor relationship angst

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count:12k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, orgasm denial, masturbation, squirting, sex toys, dirty talk, degradation, bladder desperation and brainwashing

A/N: So… this is porn. Apologies to everyone, especially Park Jimin. Blame my anons who goaded me into it. Love you all! Stay hydrated.

Jimin's tongue trails a warm circle around your erect nipple.

"Stop teasing," you groan, threading your fingers through his dark hair and tugging him closer to you.

Jimin obliges, spreading his tongue across the perky bud, sucking it into his mouth, massaging with his lips. Flames of arousal rush through you. His fingers move from your hip to your lower folds, dipping into you, checking how wet you are. He releases your breast and smirks, holding up his fingers to show you the translucent strings stretching between them. "So eager.”

He laves kisses across your throat. His tongue alternates between firm and soft, sucking just to the point of pain, then soothing it away. He moves downward, sliding you up the bed as he works his way toward your swollen center. Every place his tongue touches burns with desire.

Your core throbs as he draws closer and closer to it. Despite dating for six months, Jimin has never gone down on you. The place you most want his talented tongue is the one place it has never been. In the beginning of your relationship, you had assumed oral sex was something he had accidentally overlooked. But now it was starting to seem deliberate.

Jimin sucks a hard kiss onto your hip as he slips his finger back between your folds, spreading your arousal up to your clitoris. He draws a slow circle around the sensitive nub, laughing softly against your belly when you moan out loud.

The closer he gets, the more your desperation builds. You tighten your fingers in his hair to coax him farther down. He pushes your folds apart with his hand, bringing his face in close to inspect your swollen cunt, chuckling as it clenches. Your clit pulses as you wait for him to bring his mouth to it.

But then he's pulling away from you, sitting back on his heels. "I'm going to fuck you now.” He holds you open with one hand and strokes his dick with the other. You bite your lip to hide your disappointment and nod.

There's nothing disappointing about Jimin's dick though. He knows how to use it well. It's not until you're both sweaty, sated and lying in each other's arms that you remember your earlier disappointment.

"Jimin?" You trail a finger over his chest. "Can I ask you a question?"

He gives a soft murmur of assent as he presses a contented kiss to your forehead. His hand strokes lazily up and down your arm.

"Why do you never go down on me?"

His hand stops moving.

You press on. "I blow you all the time, but you never go down on me."

"I don't know.” He shifts underneath you, his eyes not meeting your gaze. "Just like other stuff better."

"Well, sure," you reply, kissing his chest. It had never been your favorite activity either, always making you a bit self-conscious. But it was quickly becoming the thing you most wanted, simply because he wouldn't let you have it. "But it's always fun to try new things."

He continues to duck your gaze as he unwraps his arm from you and scoots away from you over to his side of the bed.

Maybe he was insecure about this particular activity?  You slide in next to him and kiss his shoulder. "I bet you'd be really good at it.”

He shifts away from you again, frowning as you continue to chase him across the bed. "I just don't like it, okay?"

Your mouth falls open in shock. It’s such an un-Jimin-like reaction. He's always so generous with everything in your relationship.

"Why?" Did he have some terrible previous experience he didn't want to discuss? What kind of traumatic cunnilingus backstory would leave him this turned off?

"I don't know." He rolls over so his back is to you. "Can't you drop it?"

"No, I'm not going to drop it!" You sit up and nudge his shoulder. "Are you saying you'll never do it?"

He turns back over to face you, licking his lips. "Would you break up with me if I was?"

"What?"

"How big of a deal is it?"

"I don't know." It never occurred to you that you might face a relationship ultimatum over oral sex. You’re madly in love with Jimin. He’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with. Surely that matters more than how much time he spends between your legs.  

"Is there something wrong with me?" you ask. Did you taste bad? Smell funky?

“No!" Jimin's eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No, no, it’s just...” He sits up, sighing as he leans back against the headboard. "I was waiting to tell you this until we'd been together a bit longer." He runs a hand through his hair as he gathers his thoughts.  

What secret has your boyfriend been keeping from you all this time? Does he have some weird STD that is only spread through oral? Is he allergic to vagina?

"My tongue is cursed." He rubs the back of his neck, sighing as if relieved of some terrible burden.

You laugh out loud. Of all the explanations you had concocted, none were as ludicrous as this.

"Don't laugh." Jimin frowns, kicking the bed.

"Your tongue is cursed?" It's impossible to not laugh when you say it out loud. "Like by a witch?"

"No, not by a witch, don't be absurd." He squirms and pulls his knees up to his chest. "I'm part demon."

You snort in laughter again. But Jimin looks so hurt by the sound that you bite your tongue.

"My great-grandfather on my father's side was a demon,” Jimin elaborates, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, are you serious?” You arch an eyebrow, afraid of appearing to actually believe him just for him to tease you.

Jimin groans in frustration, twisting the bedsheets in his hands. "I didn't believe my mom when she told me either. But it's true. My grandmother swore it was true."

"Let me get this straight." You sit up a bit straighter, eyeing him skeptically. "The reason you won't go down on me is that you are one-eighth demon, and your tongue is cursed."

He bites his lip and nods.

"Jimin, that's ridiculous."

His shoulders slump as he curls in on himself. You're still waiting for the "gotcha!" you think is coming, but he looks sad and embarrassed.

"Fine," you sigh, willing to hear him out. "What kind of demon?"

He picks his head up and licks his lips. "An incubus."

"Your great-grandfather devoured the souls of women through sex?"

Jimin shifts back and forth, rubbing his hands up and down his legs. "Grandma said he was very handsome."

Your boyfriend is very handsome too. But that doesn't mean he's part demon.

"He didn't hurt anyone." Jimin tries to defend his clearly fictional demon great-grandfather. "He just, you know, hooked up with a lot of women."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "So which parts of you are demon then?"

"Just my tongue."

"Be serious."

"I am being serious! Look!" He sticks his tongue out as far as it will go. It's very long, reaching all the way to his chin. And it's pointy. But it seems to be a perfectly normal tongue.

"It doesn't look cursed to me."

"It's so long though," he mumbles, having difficulty pronouncing the words with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

"Yeah, but not like supernaturally long." You argue, leaning in closer to inspect the potentially cursed muscle. He wiggles it back and forth as if that will convince you there's something unusual about it. "What does that even mean, a cursed tongue?"

Jimin draws in a deep breath, as if about to reveal a deep, dark secret.

"Any girl that I get off with my tongue…“ He pauses for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes, “can never come again."

His proclamation hangs in the air of your bedroom, as he waits for you to gasp in shock. You raise an eyebrow instead. "Ever?"

"Except!" He holds up a finger. "On my tongue."

You can't hold back the laughter this time. "So is there some horde of perpetually horny women out there, dying to experience your tongue again?"

He shakes his head and chews on his lower lip. "I've never done it with anyone before." He begins twisting the bedsheets in his hands again. "I didn't want to risk it being true. My mom was really serious when she explained it."

"That's an awkward conversation to have with your mother."

Jimin finally laughs. "Yes, yes it was."

His change in demeanor brings you some relief. But it can't be true. There's no such thing as demons.

"You sure you're not making up excuses to not reciprocate?"

"I'm not making it up!" Jimin smacks the bed in emphasis. "I'm dying to go down on you!"

"You are?" Your earlier arousal knocks between your legs again.

"Yes!" He pushes his hair off his forehead. "Every time I get down there, all I want to do is suck on your needy little clit." Your core clenches and you squirm on the bed next to him. He eyes you up and down and smirks. "To make you fall apart with my tongue." He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in close enough to whisper in your ear. "To be surrounded by you as you come on my face."

"Would it be so bad if we tried it?" you ask, squeezing your thighs together to cope with the tension building between them.

"You'd want that?" His eyes widen and he licks his lips in excitement. "Even if the curse is real?"

"Yes, I'd want that." He's so excited that you don't have the heart to tell him that there's no way the curse is real.

Jimin giggles with delight, gathering your hands into his. "You know I love you right?" He kisses each of your hands. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Jimin," you reply and he pulls you in for a long kiss. His reaction would make you think he'd asked you to marry him.

"We can't do it tonight though," he mutters, frowning. “I’m leaving tomorrow."

Shit. The boys are leaving for their world tour tomorrow. A fact that has slipped your mind in the whole your-boyfriend-might-be-a-demon discussion.

"What better way to say goodbye?" You whisper, leaning in and planting light kisses up and down his neck. You're not going to let some weird family legend stand in the way of your boyfriend getting you off one more time before he disappears for a month.

"You sure?" Jimin raises an eyebrow. "A month is a long time to go."

"I think I'll survive." You've dealt with Jimin's absences before. You don’t like them, but you can’t admit to him how much they bother you. And curses aren't real.

Jimin's whole attitude changes, a dangerous glimmer in his eye. "Yeah?" He kisses your neck as his hand sneaks down between your legs. You're still sensitive and wet and you flinch when he slips his fingers into you, your arms breaking out in goosebumps. "Is this where you want my tongue?" he teases as his index finger brushes against your clitoris.

"Jimin, please," you whine. He pulls his hand back, but you slide your hips forward, chasing after him. You've been waiting for months and all he wants to do is tease.  

"So needy..." The smirk on his lips and predatory gleam in his eyes have you almost believing he is a demon. "It's like you want to give me all your orgasms."

"Curses aren't real," you gasp as he sucks a long kiss into your neck.

"Maybe you don't care if it's real." He trails kisses downward. "Maybe you want me to claim all your pleasure for myself." It's embarrassing the way more arousal drips from you at the idea. "Maybe you want to be alone and desperate, unable to satisfy yourself without me."

It's probably your mind playing tricks on you, but his mouth feels hotter than usual. It burns everywhere he touches you. He pauses his trail downward to suck on your nipple and you arch your back to press into him further.

"I like that idea," he says, releasing your breast and continuing his burning trail downwards. "That no other man will ever be able to satisfy you." He slips his fingers back inside you and you moan. "No toy, no dick, not even your own fingers will be able to bring you relief." His tongue inches downward, interrupted by lingering kisses. Your core is so swollen with arousal, the ache inside you so desperate. He smiles as he curls two fingers upward, so slowly that your thighs begin to tremble. "Every single one of your orgasms will belong to me."

"Please, Jimin." You're going to lose your mind if he keeps teasing like this. You roll your hips against his hand, trying to get his fingers in deeper.

"Is that what you want?" he asks. His mouth is so close you can feel his warm breath on your sensitive swollen skin. "Do you want to give me all your orgasms?"

He looks so serious when he asks, it almost makes you believe. But curses and demons aren't real. It's just a game. A game you’re both enjoying.

"Yes," you whisper. "I want you to have them all, Jimin."

"Good girl." He closes his eyes and exhales, then finally - finally - brings his mouth to your clitoris.

The surge of heat on the swollen bud almost has you coming the moment he takes it into his mouth.

"Holy shit," you groan, rocking your hips upward.

"Easy..." Jimin soothes, placing a firm hand on your hips to hold you down. "I'll take care of you." Then he buries himself between your legs.

His tongue alternates hard and soft as it strokes your clit. Any reservations he had about this have disappeared with the way he relishes you. He slides his fingers inside you and pairs each stroke of his tongue with internal pressure from his fingers. You pulse with arousal inside and out. You wind your fingers through his soft hair and he groans a deep satisfied rumble.

"Please, please," you beg, tugging him against you as you get closer and closer to the edge.

"That's it." He pulls off one last time to catch his breath. "Let me have it." His thumb rolls slowly over your clit as he watches you from between your thighs. "Come for me. Be mine."

He dives back in, the pace of his fingers curling inside you matching the figure-eights his tongue weaves over your clitoris. Heat radiates from his tongue, burning and tingling, so pleasurable it's almost painful. Warmth spreads through you, flowing into you and flooding up your spine and down to your toes. You tug harder on his hair. The groan he releases sends vibrations throughout your core, pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck, Jimin, I'm coming," you gasp. Your muscles clench around his fingers and your hips rock against his face as waves of pleasure cascade through you. It lasts for an eternity as he keeps stroking you, perfectly in time to the rhythms inside you. He keeps at it until you finally whine and squirm away, everything becoming too much.

"That's my girl." He smiles as he places a soft kiss on your inner thigh and chuckles when your skin trembles in response.

Minutes pass as you recover your breath. Jimin's head is still between your legs, trailing soft kisses up and down your inner thigh. It tickles and you try to squirm away, but his grip on your hips is too tight.

"Jimin," you whine, wiggling beneath him.

He ignores you, trailing his wet fingers up and down your leg.

"You know," he says, resting his chin on your thigh. "If the curse is real..."

"The curse is not real, Jimin.”

"If the curse is real,” he talks over you, pinching your inner thigh and making you jump, “then that was your last orgasm for a month." He looks so pleased with himself, dark eyes full of mischief. Your skin tingles under his hungry gaze and you begin to heat up again. "Seems a shame to leave it at that."

"Jimin," you sigh. "I'm not sure I have another one in me tonight."

"Oh, come on." He dives back into you, bumping his nose into your clitoris and causing your whole body to jolt. "I can't leave you with just one." He nuzzles against you. "How will you manage?"

A slight pang of pain hits you that he’s going to be gone for so long. But you don’t want him to see it, so you play sarcastic. "I have a vibrator."

"You do?"

"How else do you think I deal with your touring schedule?"

"Dirty girl..." He nips playfully at your inner thigh. "Where is it?"

You blush. "Under the bed."

"What?" His eyes widen in surprise. He swings his head over the side of the bed, inspecting underneath it. "There's nothing but shoes down here," he says as he hangs upside-down searching for your vibrator.

"In the Adidas box." You hide your face behind your hands as he climbs off the bed.

"Look at you," he teases. "Hiding sex toys in shoeboxes. You are dirty." He laughs a delighted laugh when he opens the correct box and you curl in on yourself further. He climbs back on top of you, pulling your hands away from your face.

You laugh when you see him, a small bullet vibrator hanging by its cord from between his teeth.

"I want to see it," he says as he drops the vibrator into your hands. "Show me how you get yourself off, if I'm not around to do it."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "Two is kind of my max. I don't know if I can."

"I believe in you, sweetheart." Jimin sits back on his heels to watch you, keeping his hand on the controller connected to the vibrator in your hand.

Your heart beats faster as he stares at you. His semi-erect dick dangles between his spread knees.

"Go on," he encourages, turning the vibrator on.

You move the vibrator down between your legs. It makes a spluttering sound as it encounters your wet folds.

"Listen to that." Jimin smiles and scoots forward on his knees, licking his lips. "Listen to how wet you are. I bet you can come again."

The vibrator does feel good against your sensitive skin and watching him watch you fills you with an arousing mix of embarrassment and confidence. The pleasure builds quickly, everything still wound up from your previous orgasm.

He increases the speed on the vibrator. "Are you getting close?" he asks, his own erection rising as he watches you.

You groan and nod, rolling the vibrator in circles across your palm, grinding it into your clitoris. The sounds of the vibrator, the sloppy wetness of your arousal, and your panting breaths fill the room as Jimin waits to watch you come.

But the closer the edge of your pleasure gets, the more distracted you become. He's just sitting there waiting, with that smug grin on his face. What if you can't come? What if he thinks this stupid curse is real? You just came, it's perfectly reasonable that you might not be able to come again right now.

The further you get into your own head, the further your climax drifts away.

"It's not working, is it?" He strokes his now fully erect cock and wiggles his eyebrows. "Need some assistance?" He turns up the vibrations to their maximum setting.

The drive to come surges back as you press harder against yourself with the vibrator and watch him stroke himself. He shuffles forward on his knees, until his dick is right next to your face.

"Suck my cock," he urges, nudging your cheek with his erection. "Do a good job and I'll let you come."

You want to roll your eyes at the suggestion that he has any control over whether or not you come, but his erection is too tempting. You sit up slightly and draw him into your mouth.

"That's a good girl," he groans. "My desperate little cockslut."

He's so hard on your tongue. You let go of the vibrator to angle yourself better. He moans when you sink down so far that your nose bumps into his pubic bone.

"Fuck," he exhales and his hands tremble as he caresses your cheek. "You take it so well." He picks the vibrator back up from where you dropped it onto the bedspread and positions it back between your legs. You jolt and moan, sending vibrations through his dick. He threads his fingers into the hair at the back of your neck, easing you up and down his cock.

You hover at the edge of coming, so debauched and needy and desperate to please him. He rolls the vibrator faster around your clitoris and you're so close. "Can you come for me?" he whispers, stroking your hair. "I want to see you come with my cock in your mouth."

You groan and rock your hips back and forth against his hand, chasing the edge as he guides you up and down his dick. But you can't quite get there. Every time you reach the tipping point, his cock bumps into the back of your throat and you gag.

"You can't do it, can you?" he teases, pace increasing as he gets more and more excited. The vibrator drops to the bed as he uses both hands to grip the back of your head. "You're mine now. All your orgasms are mine," he chokes out as he loses control of himself and comes down your throat, holding you to him and forcing you to swallow his whole release.

His thighs tremble as he sinks down onto the bed. "I love you," he says, kissing your cheek. He folds his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and sighing happily. Your core aches, but Jimin looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Hey!” You poke him in the ribs. "You can't leave me like this."

He opens one eye and laughs. "You admitting that you need me?"

You pout, not wanting to admit anything, but really wanting to get off one last time before bed. He's leaving tomorrow. Just because you want him right now doesn't mean you're cursed.

"Please, Jimin." You nudge the vibrator back into his hand, core clenching again when he takes it from you. "Help me."

"Of course." He smiles and kisses you again, before scooting down the bed and positioning himself between your legs one last time.

"So wet and swollen," he teases, as he traces a finger up and down your labia, chuckling as it twitches.

"Quit teasing," you groan, smacking his hand in irritation.

"Yes, dear." He brings the buzzing vibrator back to your clitoris and your hips buck upward to meet him. You're so close to coming you cry out, reaching out for him and grabbing on to whatever you can reach. One hand grips his shoulder as the other tangles into his hair. "That's it," he murmurs. "Come for me."

His warm wet tongue slides in next to the vibrator and you shatter into a million pieces.

Your fragmented mind floats above you as you tense in pleasure, every muscle contracted as it all becomes too much. You sob as your third orgasm of the night is ripped from you. Jimin massages both the vibrator and his tongue against you, pulling every last drop of arousal from you.

You collapse into a pile of jelly. "Fuck," you breathe out. "That was amazing."

"Glad you enjoyed it." Jimin beams from between your legs, giving one small kiss to your pubic mound before sliding back up and cradling you in his arms. "Hope it was worth it," he mumbles, kissing your forehead as you close your eyes.

You nuzzle into his warm, muscular chest. It certainly seems worth it right now. But curses aren't real. It's the last thing you think before you fall into a deep satisfied sleep. Curses aren't real.

______

You roll over the next morning to find Jimin’s side of the bed empty. Running water in the bathroom tells you he’s already up and getting ready to leave.

There’s a tingle between your legs, an echo of the night before. Your legs and crotch are slick with a mix of saliva, arousal and sweat. It should be disgusting, but it makes you smile mischievously. Memories of last night replay in your mind as you slide your hand down between your legs and contemplate how you got so messy.

The bathroom door is closed. You wiggle over to Jimin’s side of the bed and pick up his phone. It’s 5:30 am. Do you have enough time to talk him into coming back to bed? Your core pulses and you run a teasing finger around it. It’s so sore that it almost hurts to touch it. Almost, but not quite enough to stop you. You miss the heat of his mouth, the possessive way he talked, his groans of pleasure as he consumed you.

“Jimin,” you call out, unable to wait for him any longer.

The running water stops. “Yeah?” he calls out, not opening the door.

“Are you almost done in there?”

“One second.” The water switches back on briefly before he shuts it off and opens the door.

Jimin is shirtless, patting his face dry with a towel. You lick your lips at the sight of him, the tingle between your legs escalating to full ache.  He’s dressed in only black slacks, hair wet and tousled from his shower. Your core pulses as you watch a drop of water from his hair drop onto his chest and trail down the muscular planes of his stomach.

His eyes rake over you, making you feel naked despite the covers. You pull your hand away from yourself, embarrassed. Your possibly demonic boyfriend smirks.

“Last night not enough for you?” He crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, looking all too pleased with himself. “Greedy girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but your pussy clenches traitorously instead. His dark eyes burn even hotter, as if he knows.

He chuckles. “I’d offer to help you out, but I just washed my face.”

You roll your eyes and squirm under the covers. “There are other ways to help me.” You don’t need his tongue. His fingers or his cock would do just as nicely.

“Yeah?” He raises an eyebrow as he walks over to his nightstand and picks up his phone. “I’ve only got ten minutes before the car arrives though.”

The pang of distress at his leaving returns. “Why didn’t you wake me sooner?”

“I thought you could use the rest.” He laughs and kisses you on the forehead. “I didn’t want to wake you earlier than I had to.”

It feels especially hard to say goodbye today. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I bet you will,” he replies, striding across the room to fish a white button-down shirt from the closet, still smirking. “A month is a long time to go.”

“I like more about you than just the sex.” You cross your arms and pout. “Won’t you miss me?”

Jimin laughs brightly as he buttons up his shirt. He sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “Of course, I’ll miss you.” He takes your hands in his, squeezing gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” It doesn’t feel like enough to convey how much you’re going to miss him. But you don’t want to be that needy girl who begs her boyfriend to stay.

He smiles and picks up your hands, lifting them to his lips and kissing the back of each. Then he pauses and sniffs. He can smell the arousal on your hand and you are mortified. His eyes flick back up to your blushing face and he cocks an eyebrow, pleased smirk on his lips. "You sure you don't want my assistance one last time?"

You clench your thighs together and squirm under his heated gaze. "I wouldn't want you to be late." You can always get yourself off after he leaves.

"Yeah," he replies, glancing at his watch. "I should get going." He cups your cheek in his palm, tilting your chin up to give him a kiss goodbye.

You pour all your unspoken longing into your last kiss. His mouth is warm, his lips soft, and when his tongue enters your mouth, your whole body breaks out in droplets of sweat. You thread your fingers into his damp hair, pulling him closer as you moan against his lips.

He laughs as he pulls away from you. "So needy," he teases, wiping his lips with his thumb. "I like it." You want to scoff at how patronizing he sounds, but then he places a soft kiss on your forehead. "Be good for me," he whispers and you can't help the whine you emit as he lets go of you.

What is the matter with you? You've always prided yourself on being a mature adult who was respectful of his schedule, not some hormonal teenager who can't live without her boyfriend. You must be horny. As soon as he leaves, you can solve that problem and go about your day as usual.

You watch Jimin leave, admiring the way the tight black pants show off his best assets. "Hurry back!” you call after him. He blows you a kiss, and then he's gone.

The moment he's gone, you feel colder and emptier. You slide back down under the covers, drawing them up over your shoulders, and sighing broken-heartedly. It's dramatic, but no one is around to see you, so you let yourself wallow for a moment.

The tingle between your legs recaptures your attention. You glance over to the nightstand where your vibrator waits. Your pelvic muscles twitch in excitement. You scoop the vibrator up and sneak it under the bed covers.

You take your time easing into your arousal. You're still sore and sensitive from last night, so you don't go straight for the maximum setting. You tease yourself slowly, like Jimin would. His kiss lingers on your lips. Your fingers miss his soft hair. The vibrator echoes the burning, tingling pleasure of his tongue.

Just as you reach your plateau, cranking the vibrator to the highest setting and settling in for the home stretch, your phone buzzes.

Today 10:35 am

Jimin: What are you doing?

You: Nothing...

Jimin: Nothing? You sure about that? You sure you're not fingering that needy clit right now?

You: I am doing no such thing.

Jimin: You've got the vibrator out then.

You: Fuck. How do you know that?

Jimin: You seemed pretty needy when I left. ;)

You: Where are you?

Jimin: Pulling into the airport.

You groan out loud. The idea of him texting you filth while surrounded by his members made you flush with heat. You ignore him for a moment as you ride the wave of pleasure that surges through you at the thought.

Jimin: You going to answer me?

You: I have the vibrator.

Jimin: Dirty girl... Did you cum?

You: No, not yet

Jimin: Can't get it done without me huh?

You: just taking my sweet time. thank you very much. curses aren't real

Jimin: prove me wrong then. cum for me

Your clitoris throbs as you lower the vibrator back to it, buzzing excitedly. The edge of your orgasm hangs just out of reach. You read back Jimin's command and press the vibrator harder against yourself, rocking your pelvis up and down. It's right there. You ride the edge for a moment, then breathe out and let yourself tip over.

Your whole body goes numb. All feeling disappears, as if you are floating in mid-air, all sense of time and place gone and you feel nothing. Your pelvic muscles contract rhythmically, as if you’re having an orgasm, but you can’t feel it. You feel nothing.

Blinding pain rips through you. The vibrator is a curling iron pressed to your clit. The sheets burn everywhere they touch you. You cry out in shock and fling the source of pain away from you. You tear the bedcovers off as the vibrator clatters into the dresser on the far side of the room.

What the fuck just happened? The pain disappears as quickly as it appeared and you are the same, cunt still pulsing with arousal. You lie in a pool of sweat, panting.

You look over at Jimin's message. Should you tell him what just happened? What if he thinks it's the curse?

You shake your head. No. Curses aren't real. It must all be in your head.

Today 10:42 am

You: did it

Jimin: really?

You feel a slight twinge of guilt as you lie to him.

You: really

Jimin: oh...

Is he disappointed? Did he want you to have an ancient demonic curse? He told you to come for him. You watch typing bubbles appear and disappear several times, but no messages come through. You feel overheated and overwhelmed. You get up out of the bed, ignoring the ache between your legs, deciding to have a cold shower instead.

Jimin: getting on the plane now

You: okay, have a safe flight! I love you! Call me when you land!

Jimin: yup, will do

No "I love you too"? Was he mad at you? Upset? You frown as you stand in your bathroom and watch his flight take off on the flight tracker app on your phone.

_____

It’s a long eleven hours as Jimin flies to Los Angeles. Every time you think about him, the slight tingle between your legs returns. You make the shower ten degrees colder to try to calm yourself down, but it provides only temporary relief. You are on edge and restless all day, but too afraid of the strange thing that happened this morning to try masturbating again.

By the time midnight rolls around, you are very tired and very frustrated. You should go to bed and talk to Jimin in the morning. But as you watch the plane get closer and closer to landing, you can’t fall asleep.

His plane lands and you wait for him to text you. Five minutes go by, then ten, with no message. You can’t take it anymore.

Today 12:18 am

You: Did you arrive safely?

Jimin: Just landed

You: Can you talk?

He’s only been gone half a day, but it already feels too long. You’re annoyed with yourself for feeling this needy.

Jimin: Not right now. Maybe in a couple of hours

You: I have to go to bed…

Jimin: You should go to bed then

You frown. Usually he would plead with you to wait a little longer, or ask if he could wake you up when he was free. You’ve had many whispered conversations at 4 am because it was the only time he could talk.

You can’t let on how much you already miss him though. You don’t want to be one of those girls who becomes a burden. This was the trade-off to dating an idol.

You: Okay, good night then

Jimin: good night

You frown at your phone again, before finally giving up and setting it down on the nightstand.

You stare at the dark ceiling of your bedroom wishing he was here with you, instead of halfway around the world. You roll over and hug the pillow next to you. It smells like him. It triggers a deep knock of the same arousal that’s been haunting you all day. Maybe it would help you sleep if you got some relief.

You slip your fingers down into your underwear and find yourself already wet. You trail your fingers through the sticky wetness curiously. You are not usually this wound up so quickly. It’s ridiculous that the smell of him alone can get you this excited.

You bury your face in his pillow and inhale again, amazed as you feel another burst of wetness gush from you. God, you miss him. How do you miss him this much when he’s been gone less than a day? His arms, his hands, his tongue, his lips are all you can think about.

You sigh softly as you trail a damp finger up around your eager clitoris. You close your eyes and imagine the hand belongs to Jimin instead. He’s here with you. His lips on yours, his hand curled into your hair, whispering how you belong to him.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he whispers in your head. “Make yourself wet and desperate for me.” You groan as you pick up the pace of your hand. “Good girl, you’re doing so good.”

“Jimin, please,” you plead into the silence of your empty bedroom.

The Jimin in your head laughs. “You know it’s hopeless right?” he teases, smirking at you in that self-satisfied way where he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. “Every one of your orgasms belongs to me.”

You feel the edge of pleasure begin to slip away. You speed up your hand and chase after it, but it’s no use. The pleasure fades aways and you are left numb, empty and wet.

“Told you I was cursed,” imaginary Jimin teases. You huff in frustration, unwilling to give him the satisfaction, and roll over away from the pillow that smells like him. You shut your eyes tight. Curses aren’t real.

_______

Your dreams are full of Jimin. Jimin’s hands, Jimin’s chest, Jimin’s tongue. Over and over, he teases you toward your climax in your sleep. Always pausing, always stopping before you get to your end. By the time you wake up in the morning, you are swollen and dripping with need.

Your alarm sounds. It’s Monday. Work starts in an hour. You reach down and confirm how wet you are, more wet than you have ever been before. Your thighs slide past each other, slick with arousal. You can’t go to work like this.

It’s time to break out the big guns.

You lean over the side of your bed and fish out the other shoebox. The one you couldn’t tell Jimin about. The one that contains your dildo. Sometimes the vibrator alone wasn’t enough. Sometimes you needed a bit more. Sometimes you needed to be filled.

“Won’t do any good,” imaginary Jimin whispers in your head. You ignore him.

You slide the toy through your folds, slicking it up with your excessive wetness. The sides of your entrance tingle with heat as you stroke over them.

“Imagine it’s me,” Jimin teases. The fake cock heats up in your hands and you can almost believe it's his.

“Please, fuck me, Jimin” you beg, even though Jimin is thousands of miles away.

“Would if I could, sweetheart,” he answers. You picture him running his tongue over his plush lower lip. “But that’s not what you really want.”

“No such thing as curses,” you urge as you slide the dildo into you. “Fuck…”

Being finally filled again scratches an itch you hadn’t been able to before. It’s a pleasure and a relief all at once. The toy slides in easily with how soaking wet you are.

You pull up some porn on your phone and prop it against a pillow before grabbing the vibrator. You’re done fucking around. You need to get off right now and then go to work.

The porn isn’t very interesting though. The only thing you want to think about is Jimin. You close your eyes, listening to the audio but picturing your boyfriend. It doesn’t take long before you feel the pleasure crescendo. You let out a sob. It’s happening, it’s finally happening. You aren’t cursed.

The phone rings.

“Fuck!” You throw the vibrator down in frustration.

It’s Jimin. If it were anyone else, you would let it go to voicemail. But you really want to hear his voice. You turn the vibrator off so he won’t hear it, but keep sliding the silicone cock in and out of you.

“Hey babe,” Jimin’s voice is a little raspy. “I thought I could catch you before work. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you lie, sliding the dildo further inside yourself and biting your lip to conceal a groan.

He chuckles. “Nothing?”

“Nothing. Getting ready for work.” You refuse to give him the satisfaction of admitting that you’re actually naked in bed, dripping for him. “What are you doing?”

“Finally made it to the hotel,” he groans. You can picture him stretching his arms over his head as he spreads himself across his big empty bed. “Was thinking about you. Thought you might be thinking of me.”

Does he know? How could he know? Does he have magical “knows when his girlfriend is horny” demon powers”?

Shit. No. Jimin is not a demon. There are no such things as demons.

“Did you just call for phone sex?” You want to sound irritated, but your pelvic muscles clench traitorously around the dildo.

“Can’t stop thinking about yesterday.” His voice gets lower and you can hear the slick sounds of his hand moving over his dick in the background. “You were so needy for me. I liked it.”

A sharp blade of anger slices through your fog of lust.

“Jimin.” You pull the dildo out of you, setting it to the side. “You can’t ignore me all day yesterday and then expect me to talk you off like nothing happened.”

“Aww, come on, we were so busy. I called you as soon as I got here,” he whines. “I’ll make sure you get off too.”

You aren’t sure he can. Not with his voice alone. You need him here with you. But you’re not going to admit that.

“I have to go to work.” You are rapidly running out of time.

“Don’t you miss me?” he asks. You can practically hear his pout through the phone.

“Do you miss me?” You want to know why he hadn’t called earlier, but you don’t want to seem too needy.

“Of course, I do, baby. I love you.”

The tension in you eases slightly. Maybe you had been making things up.

“Miss you so much,” he continues and you can hear the sounds of his jerking off pick up speed. “Miss that sweet little cunt.”

It’s just about sex. He doesn’t miss you, he just wants to get off. “I have to go Jimin.”

“What? No! Don’t go.”

“I’m going to be late for work.” You hang up on him, feeling a vindictive victory. Your core is still wet and aching, but your anger powers you long enough to get you up and into the shower.

______

One cold shower and a hot cup of coffee later and you are on your way to work.

The commute sucks. Your lingering arousal refuses to abate. Your mind dwells on Jimin. Sitting down on the subway has you springing to your feet as the train starts moving, vibrations from the rails threatening to have you soaking through your underwear. Memories of Jimin commanding you to orgasm echo through you as you fight to calm your breathing.

You haven’t heard from real Jimin since you hung up on him. He probably fell asleep.

At work, you shift uncomfortably at your desk. You try to answer some emails, but every few seconds your core pulses, forcing you to reposition yourself. Your clothes itch. Everything is too hot. You shrug off the cardigan that you usually need to cope with the building’s air conditioning system. But then you rush to put it back on when you notice how hard your nipples are, poking through your bra and shirt.

The only thing that can distract from the tingling all over you is the buzz of your phone.

Today 10:22 am

Jimin: I’m sorry :(

You: Go on…

Jimin: I’m sorry I ignored you. This whole thing has me a bit thrown off.

You: How so?

Jimin: I was just so sure that the curse was a real thing, you know? I felt pretty stupid that it wasn’t.

You bite your lip and shift uncomfortably in your seat, pressing your legs together. Should you tell him? No… curses aren’t real. You’re just missing your boyfriend. That’s okay.

You: It’s okay, Jimin. Thank you.

Jimin: Is it bad that I kind of wanted it to be real?

You: You did?

Jimin: Well, it’s pretty sexy right?

Sweat trails from your hairline down your neck.

You: I have to be able to live my life Jimin. Can’t be sitting around waiting for you.

Jimin: I’m sorry we’re gone so much.

Shit. Now you’ve made him feel bad for his work schedule, something you swore you’d never do.

You: It’s okay. I’ll be okay.

I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real. I’ll be okay. Curses aren’t real.  

You repeat the mantra under your breath until you make it to the end of the work day.

_______

The rest of the work week passes in much the same way, days of jaw clenching and sweating until you can rush home and lie in bed with the vibrator. You edge over and over, afraid of the pain you experienced last time, until you pass out exhausted.

You manage to make it to Friday. There’s a big meeting at nine. Your whole office, crammed into one conference room. At least this way you have an excuse to linger at the edge of the meeting, rather than sit leaking all over an office chair. It’s the first time you’ve had to be around this many other people at once.

“Do you think they can tell?” demon Jimin whispers in your head. “Do they know how wet and desperate you are right now?”  

You teter at the edge of the room. You clench in horror as a drop of something begins running down the inside of your leg. You’re too far gone to tell if it is arousal or sweat.

A colleague next to you leans over to ask you a follow-up question on something your boss just said, but you cannot hear them over the buzzing in your head.  They look at you in confusion. “Are you alright?”

No, you are not alright. You’re becoming dumber with each passing moment. Sweat beads up on the back of your neck. You mutter something about not feeling well and run for the restroom.

You slam the door to the stall behind you, ripping off your cardigan and undoing several buttons of the blouse underneath. You can’t breathe. You need air. You need relief. You slip your hand underneath your skirt. Your fingers are cool against your burning core. It’s a relief to touch yourself again.

“God, you’re a mess.” Jimin whispers in your head. You want to cry from how humiliating this is. “Can you imagine if they knew what you were doing in here?”

“Jimin…” you plead, unable to stop yourself.

“Shhh… ” he chuckles. “Don’t let them hear you.”  

You bang your head back into the stall door in frustration. If you could just come, if you could just get five minutes of relief. Maybe the pain would be better, at least it would be a different sensation. You speed up your hand, chasing any form of relief.

“Such a dirty girl. Getting yourself off in the bathroom to the mere memory of me. What are we going to do with you?”  

Your fingers slurp through the slick leaking from you. The noises fill the small office bathroom. It’s disgusting and debauched and you can’t stop yourself.

“Listen to that.” Jimin whispers. “You’re so hopeless.”

Your orgasm dances tantalizingly near, but your hand is starting to cramp up.

“Don’t stop now.” Jimin urges. “Keep rubbing. That’s it. The more desperate you are, the more control I have.”

“Fuck…” you curse.

The bathroom door opens, noises of chatter and typing pouring in from the larger office. “Everything okay in there?”

Your face burns with humiliation and your back drips with sweat. “I’m okay!” you call out, even though you aren’t, not even a little.

You’ll never get relief here. It takes all your strength to pull your fingers away from your swollen cunt. Especially with Jimin whispering in your ear to keep touching yourself.

You adjust your skirt and rebutton your blouse as best you can.

“Sorry,” you mutter as you emerge from the stall, not looking at the colleague who has come to check on you. “Stomach bug.” You hope your excessive sweating sells the idea that you are actually ill.

“Go home!” your colleague insists, waving their hands at you. “Don’t be spreading your norovirus around here.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think that is a good idea.” You nod, rinsing off your hands and patting a damp cloth on your face.

Imaginary Jimin grins, his dark eyes burning in your mind’s eye at the idea of having you all to himself again. “I think that’s a good idea too.”  

_______

The first thing you do when you get back to your apartment is strip out of your clothes, leaving a trail of sweat-soaked clothing from your front door to the bedroom. You climb back into bed and grab the vibrator, hissing in relief as it clicks on, feeling like you can breathe for a moment.

“You know, you’re only going to make it worse.” Demon Jimin continues to taunt you. “The more you touch yourself, the more you’ll want me.”

“Please, Jimin, please,” you beg, even though there’s nothing your imaginary boyfriend can do for you.

“What will we do with you?” the demon smirks, tutting in mock disapproval. “Can’t even work a full day. How will you keep a job? I’ll have to take you everywhere with me, never too far away. My personal slut.”

“No, Jimin, please…” Everything hurts. Your folds are red and irritated. Your hand cramps from pressing the vibrator into you. But you can’t stop.

“It’s okay, my love. Keep rubbing yourself. Melt your brain away. Be mine. There’s nothing else you need to do. That’s my good girl.”

All conscious thought begins to slip from you. There is only aching burning need. Jimin’s voice echoes in your head, drowning out all your attempts to fight him.

“What an embarrassment you are. So wet and needy. Filthy girl. I won’t be able to take you anywhere. You’ll have to wait around my hotel room, begging me to take pity on you. My own horny little pet.”

Waves of desire roll through you, washing away any other aspirations. Just to be his. To be only his.

“Won’t that be easier? Nothing to worry about. No work, no chores. Your only job will be to stay wet and ready for me. And you’ll be so good at it. I’ll use you when I feel like it and only let you come once I’m satisfied. Every single orgasm will be mine.”

A groan rips from your throat, more animal than human. Tremors run up and down your spine.

“I’ll have to be careful not to let you come too often though,” Jimin teases. “I like you like this. All needy and desperate for me. Want to keep you like this. My brainless little fucktoy.”

You sob. He’s right. It’s all you’re good for now. Nothing but a shivering pile of desperation.

The only thing that saves you from drifting under the demon’s spell is the ring of your phone. Jimin is calling you. Real Jimin. Your only lifeline.

“Hello?” Your voice is raspy and parched. You click off the vibrator so he can’t hear it. But that only makes the need worse, so you replace it with your hand.

“Hello?” Jimin answers. “Are you sleeping?”

“No…” Should you be asleep? You have no idea what time it is.

“You sound weird.”

You switch the phone to speaker and rest it next to your head on the bed so he can’t hear your heavy breathing.  “I’m fine.”

“Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you all week.” He sounds a bit upset, and very far away.

You have no answer. No, things were not okay, but there was nothing he could do about it when he’s thousands of miles away.

“Beg him,” demon Jimin whispers. “Go on, beg him to let you come. It will be funny.”

“I can’t,” you mutter under your breath, groaning in frustration.

“What?” Jimin’s voice calls from the phone. “I can’t hear you. Are you still there?”

“I… I can’t do this right now Jimin.”

“Are you still at work?” His tone has shifted from upset to confused.

“No, no, I went home.”

“Are you sick?” Jimin asks through the phone. “Hello?”

A small sob bubbles its way up out of your throat.

“This conversation is boring,” the Jimin in your head insists. “Turn the vibrator back on.”

“I don’t have time for this right now, Jimin.”

“What are you doing?” Real Jimin sounds worried. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Go on,” the demon whispers. “Tell him you can’t come without him. Tell him you belong to him now. Tell him his pathetic excuse for a girlfriend can’t live without him.”

“Jimin please!” you cry out. “I can’t do it anymore, please!” Tears are rolling down your cheeks. “Please let me come.”

“What? Are you playing with yourself right now?” he asks, incredulous.

Somehow the vibrator has turned back on and you rock against it, even as you wish you could stop. “I can’t help it,” you sob. “I can’t stop Jimin. I can’t stop.” You’re useless and pathetic. He’s going to leave you and you’ll never get relief again. “I’m sorry. Please let me come.”

“You can come! You can come!” he shouts through the phone, but of course, that does nothing to help you.

“I can’t come without you!” you sob. “You were right. The curse is real.”

“Huh? But, but... at the airport, you said you did.”

You groan, still chasing relief that isn’t coming. “I lied, Jimin, I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. “Why would you lie to me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. But it’s real and I can’t… I can’t do anything without you. You have to come back.”

“I can’t come back. We have a show tomorrow.”

“ He’s not going to help you.” The demon is still there, waiting for you.

“Please, Jimin, please come home.” you beg. “I need you.”

“This is my job. I can’t leave.”

“What about my job, Jimin? What about my life? You can’t leave me like this!”

“It’s only been a week! Can’t you deal with it for a little longer?”

“Fuck you Park Jimin! You did this to me!”

“You said it wasn’t real!”

“He’s useless,” demon Jimin begins to drown out your boyfriend. “Come back to me. Be mine.”

“I have to go Jimin.”

“No, don’t hang up. We can figure this out.”

“You can’t help me.” You hang up the phone and toss it back onto your nightstand.

“Good girl.” The demon hisses in satisfaction. “Let it all go. Let your mind go.” You cry, still rocking against the vibrator, searching for relief that isn’t coming.

______

Your mind slowly leaves you over the next few days. You can get a few minutes of clarity if you’re willing to push yourself all the way over the edge, the searing pain providing you with enough mental clearness to call in sick to work or order food. But every time you do, it leaves you with even less with even less mental clarity.

At some point, you stop keeping track of the days. You stop sleeping. You stop eating. Eventually, even getting out of bed becomes too much work.

The bed sheets are wet, a mixture of sweat and vaginal secretions. You need to pee.

“God, you’re disgusting.” Demon Jimin laughs in your head. “He’s never going to want you now. Wet yourself like the animal you are and be done with it.”

You whine, hiding your face beneath your pillow and trying to distract yourself with the vibrator from the growing need to urinate.

The phone rings. Jimin is calling. He’s been calling for days, but you can’t answer him. You can’t let him know what you’ve become. He’ll never want you again.

There’s a loud banging on your front door. Who could that be? You haven’t ordered any food in a while, not really sure how long.

“Ignore it,” the demon instructs. “Lie here in this bed and piss yourself.”  

You wrap the pillow around your head, unsure if you are trying to drown out the pounding on the door or the demon whispering in your ear.

“Open the door!” A loud, frantic voice carries through the door and you curl in on yourself. You don’t know who they are, but you can’t let them see. You can’t let them know. The pounding stops, followed by a loud thud that rattles the door on its hinges. “Goddamn it!” The voice shouts. Then, a softer voice calls through the door. “Baby, please open the door. Please, let me in.” It’s Jimin. Real Jimin. He’s here.

The overwhelming drive for him is the only thing that could propel you up and out of the bed. You’re shaky on your feet, a bit dizzy. The world is not entirely stable. But you manage to make it to the door and unlatch the lock before collapsing in a heap next to the entry.

For a second, there’s nothing. The door stays shut and you are worried that you hallucinated the whole thing. Of course he’s not here. He has more important things to be doing than dealing with his pathetic girlfriend.

But then the door bursts open.

“Babe?” Jimin calls for you as he steps into the apartment, kicking off his shoes. He’s wearing the same white dress shirt and black slacks that he left you in. Maybe he’s a figment of your imagination.

“Jimin…” You reach out for him, unable to believe he’s actually here, needing to feel whether or not he is solid.

“Shit.” His eyes widen as he finds you crumpled up and naked on the floor. “Are you okay?” He drops his overnight bag on the threshold and kneels in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. “Tell me what’s happening.”

You don’t know how to answer him. You don’t know what’s happening. But his fingertips are cool against your feverish, sweaty skin. He brushes the hair out of your face so he can look you in the eyes. You only know you need him.

“Jimin, I need you, please.” Your hands reach for him, searching for more of his skin to cool yourself against. You’re untucking his shirt from his pants and trying to undo his belt buckle, but he bats your hands away.

“Woah...” He grabs your hands to stop you as you battle him for his belt. “Babe, slow down, talk to me.”

He doesn’t want you. He’s repulsed by you. The demon was right. He’ll never touch you again. You’re worthless. You’re repulsive. You burst into tears. “Please, Jimin, please, I can’t,” you sob, nearly incomprehensible.

“Shh, shh...” He runs his hands over your shoulders. “Shh… it’s going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you.” He scoops you up into his arms and carries you down the hall, back toward your room. “I was so worried,” he says as he cradles you against him.

You can only respond by nuzzling your face into his chest, the cool cotton of his white shirt absorbing the heat from your skin.

“Your work called and said you haven’t been in since last week.” He kisses the top of your head and inhales the smell of your hair. “Why haven’t you been answering the phone?”

You ought to feel bad, but it was hard to feel too bad when you had what you finally wanted, Jimin back here with you.  

“I thought something terrible had happened to you.” He pauses at the door to the bathroom, waiting for an explanation.

“It’s the curse,” you whine, covering your face with your hands. “I’m cursed. You cursed me.”

“I’m so sorry.” He set you down on the toilet, before turning on the shower. “I didn’t know it would be like this.” He places a soft kiss on your forehead and turns to leave the bathroom.

You panic. Where is he going? He can’t leave you like this. “Jimin, no, don’t leave.” You chase him out of the bathroom, catching him around the middle and clinging to his waist. “You can’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving,” he chuckles, trying to unfasten your arms from around him, but you refuse to let go. “I was just getting undressed.” He sighs, picking you up once again and carrying you back to the bathroom. He tries to set you down again, but you whine, clinging to his neck.

Giving up, he steps directly into the shower, still dressed, cradling you in his arms. The white dress shirt turns translucent as the water hits it, clinging to his skin. The water runs down his torso and thighs and you groan with need. The water is warm, but it feels cool compared to how hot your skin is.

“Jimin, please.” You’re begging again. “I need you.”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he answers. Your legs tremble underneath you as he puts you back on your feet.  He grabs the bottle of body wash and squirts out a generous dollop, lathering it up in his hands.  “I’m gonna take care of you.”

It’s all you can do to stay standing as he caresses you. He removes the shower head from its hook so he can follow each soapy caress with water to wash you clean.

He starts with your neck, then your breasts, then your stomach, gentle hands massaging over you. It only makes the ache for him worse.  He reaches the puffy and swollen labia and you gasp, legs trembling.

“Please, Jimin, please,” your endless chant of pleading begins again.

“Shh…. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He runs the showerhead over your aching core to rinse off the soap and your legs give out entirely. You collapse against the wall behind you, unable to support yourself.  Still dressed in his soaking wet clothes, he kneels in front of you. He spreads your legs, investigating your swollen folds with his soapy hands. Your clitoris throbs, hard and angry and red. You shiver as he runs the water stream over again. “Does it hurt?” he asks, watching your face as he strokes over your tender core with his fingertips.

“No, no,” you shake your head emphatically. “Not anymore.” The only pain now is the distance between you. “Please, please, please…”

He slides closer to you, brushing his dark wet hair back off his forehead and licking his lips. He picks up one of your legs and wraps it over his shoulder, then the other, carrying you on his shoulders as he buries his face in your core. You are so on edge, have been on edge for so long, that you’re already at the peak of your arousal the moment his tongue touches you.

Something monstrous is building inside you. A sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before moves through you as he moves his tongue in slow broad strokes over your clit. Flames of heat lick at your extremities, beginning in your fingertips and toes and spreading upward. Rising warmth builds in your belly as you ride his face, hips undulating in time with the bobbing of his head. Fear floods you as the memory of the searing pain returns from those moments you’ve gotten this close in the past. You tense up, gripping his shoulders tightly, afraid to let yourself tip over.

“It’s okay,” Jimin whispers, pausing for a second to admire you from between your thighs. “It’s okay to let go.” His warm wet tongue slides over your aching clit as his fingers penetrate you. A massive tremor rolls through you as all the pent of tension releases at once and you’re coming. Every muscle in your body seizes over and over as you grind against his face.

Rhythmic muscle contractions seize you as a rush of fluid shoots out of you, spraying Jimin right in the face. You’re screaming, but not from pain. There is no pain, only release, only relief.

“Woah.” Jimin gapes at you, your release dripping down his face and off his chin. Then he breaks into a huge smile. “That was amazing.”

You laugh out loud, relief washing over you. Your whole body turns to jello and you collapse into his lap.

“Thank goodness we were already in the shower,” he says, wiping his face with his hand and chuckling.

The two of you sit, holding on to each other under the stream of water, laughing. Finally, the mental fog begins to lift from your thoughts.

“How did you get here?” you ask, yawning as you do so.

“On a plane.” He laughs, nuzzling against your neck, arms wrapped around you.

You hit playfully on his chest, still covered in his soaking wet dress shirt. “You know what I mean, what about the tour?” You yawn again.

He mirrors your yawn, stretching his arms and groaning. “I have to go back in the morning. They managed to get me out of the press junkets for today by claiming I was sick, but I have to be back for the concert.”

“Do they know?” Your eyes are already closing as you lean against his warm firm torso.

“About the curse?” Jimin asks. “No…” he laughs. “No, I don’t think they’d let me leave if I told them it was because my girlfriend really needed to ride my face. I told them I had a family emergency.”

“I’m sorry, Jimin.”

He shakes his head. “I’m the one who should be sorry.” He turns your face toward him and kisses you. “It’s my fault. I never should have left you.”

You sigh, head resting on his shoulder. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know.” He squeezes your hand where it is entwined with his in your lap. “But we’ll figure something out.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall, finger stroking your arm. “But right now we should get some sleep.”

He turns off the shower, stripping off his wet clothes and leaving them behind before scooping you up. Your head is floaty as he wraps you in a warm towel. You lean against the counter as he strips the sheets from the bed and replaces them with fresh ones, then comes back to lead you back to the bed. The two of you collapse into bed together and sleep overtakes you almost instantly.

______

Your dreams are full of Jimin again. Not teasing demon Jimin, but your warm loving boyfriend, stroking your hair and holding your hand.

You are surprised to wake up and find him watching you.

“I have a solution!” He chirps excitedly.

“You do?”

“Yes! Apparently the curse is in my saliva. So here!” He thrusts the bottle of lube from your nightstand into your hands. You look at it in confusion. “I spit in it!” he proudly declares.

“Um…” You hold the bottle at arm’s length. “Thank you?”

“This way, if I’ve been gone too long, you have a way to get off without me.”

“How do you know it will work?”

He laughs sheepishly. “I, uh, called my mom.”

“Ugh, no…” You hide your head under the covers in embarrassment. “What did you tell her?”

“It was an awkward conversation.” He laughs again. “But I couldn’t let you go through that again. She swears this will work.” He glances down at his watch. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to test it out with you.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Think you can get it done before I get on my plane?”

“I suppose there’s one way to find out…”

Jimin disappears under the bed and returns with both your vibrator and dildo. “Better get going then,” he teases, before giving you one last kiss. “I’ll text you when I land. I love you.”

You stare at the assortment of sex toys and lube now spread out on your bed. “You’re just going to leave? I don’t have to go with you?”

“Do you want to go with me? I thought you had work.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, I do, but… I thought you were going to make me your personal sex slave.”

“Um, I wasn’t planning on it.” He laughs, then a more mischievous smirk spreads over his face. “Unless you want me to.”

You laugh in relief even as a lick of heat curls in your belly. “Perhaps that’s a game best left for when you are in town.”

He winks. “Looking forward to it.”

[cinnaminsvga]

Undercover (M)

→ summary: the company banquets that your family loves to host are often drearier than you would like them to be. lucky for you, your bodyguards have the perfect solution: why don’t you play a little game with them? 

the only rule? you must keep quiet at all costs.

→ pairing: vamp!jungkook x reader x siren!seokjin → genre: bodyguard!au, supernatural, smut → warnings: dom!jin, switch!kook, sub!reader, remote vibrator, rough public sex, fingering, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, blood-drinking, hypnotization, jin is kinda sadistic, basically pwp ;_; → words: 5.4K → a/n: this is for the holiday fic exchange that was held on @btsghostiewritersnet!! my fic is dedicated to ms @jincherie​ (aka the loml and also the recipient of 1/3 of the fics i’ve written this year??) who requested this prompt. i’m not really good with poly or smut fics, but i tried my best??? it ended up being a lil more jk centric than i anticipated but HHHH IDK I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE THIS EVEN A TEENY BIT ;o; anyway... happy holidays everyone!!

You can feel their eyes on you.

Except that isn’t much of a revelation—they are always watchful of you, after all. Your father pays a hefty enough salary that they would risk their lives to keep you safe, so it isn’t much of a surprise to know that they are lurking at the sides, keeping distant and close all at once.

This time, however, is different. You know for a fact that it is different. There is a subtle shift in the air, something tangible enough that you can almost touch it, taste it. You know that if you glance back at them, you will find two pairs of eyes, watching and waiting for… something.

That fact alone is enough to keep the goosebumps on your arms from subsiding. You feel like a canister just waiting to burst, a small disturbance enough to get you to erupt into flames and burn every last inch of propriety left in your being. Tonight, they are here to ruin you.

“Why are you acting so damn fidgety? Stand still,” your brother huffs after a while, pinching you lightly in the side. It breaks you from your reverie, causing you to jolt away with wide eyes.

“W-what?” you ask breathlessly. You wipe your clammy hands across your expensive dress, leaving wrinkles in their wake. “Sorry. I just… had a lot of coffee before coming here, is all. I needed the wake-me-up.”

He watches you for a moment, raising an eyebrow at your odd behavior. You can tell that he’s suspicious, but he inevitably shrugs it off, too unbothered to care. Like you, it takes a whole deal to get Yoongi excited about anything, and having a jumpy sister is far from reaching his quota. “Whatever. Just don’t cause a scene, alright? These events might be boring as hell, but dad has a bunch of important people here tonight, so you better get your shit together.”

You snort. “Right. Like when does he not invite important people to these parties?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. Just behave, alright? I’m not covering for you if you piss someone off.”

“Wouldn’t have dreamed of asking,” you mutter. Little does he know, you are already planning on behaving tonight, anyway. That is the name of the game, after all.

On a makeshift stage at the head of the ballroom, your father has just finished giving his opening remarks, thanking all his esteemed guests for making it to tonight’s banquet. Polite applause follows soon after, the clamor loud enough to mask the way you inhale sharply in surprise. Your back straightens imperceptibly, your body going rigid as if you had been struck by lightning. To your left, your brother is none the wiser to your panic, his attention glued to his phone.

When the clapping breaks, you nearly speak your prayers aloud when the ambush on your senses suddenly stops as well. You take one, two calming breaths, your core throbbing needily as you await the second wave to hit. Disappointed when nothing comes, you smooth your dress down, fighting the urge to look around to see if anyone was watching.

Legs slightly weaker and breath a little shakier, you walk among the throngs of people as they make their way to their seats, getting ready for dinner to be served. Instead of heading to where your family’s table would be located, you change direction halfway and walk towards the back. Yoongi does not comment, just nodding back at you and going the other way as well. This is normal etiquette for both of you, anyway—your father has always expected the two of you to wander during these parties, greeting guests and socializing with them as proper hosts should.

Except that isn’t on your agenda for tonight. Right now, you have a game to play, and you don’t intend on losing your focus to anything else.

It does not take you long to find who you are looking for. Just like he promised, Jungkook is standing close to the east entrance, standing stock still against the wall in his designer black suit. When he notices you approach, his stern demeanor softens, a small smile gracing his Adonis-like features. It is nothing more than a quirk of his lips, but it is enough for a flash of something sharp to catch your eye. It disappears before you can even blink, but you know that what you had seen is far from a figment of your imagination.

To an outsider, Jungkook looks as intimidating as any regular bodyguard should be: tall and muscular, coupled with a dangerous gaze that could pierce diamond. He certainly works like one too, as your father would have never hired him if he wasn’t 100% sure that Jungkook was up to his lofty standards.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that there is something else that sets Jungkook apart if you just looked close enough. Even from a few feet apart, you can see the redness lining his irises, the deathly pallor of his skin, the sallowness of his cheeks. As you get closer, you notice other things too, like how his hands tremble against his sides and how his breathing has gotten shallow.

Everything about him screams vampire—a starving one, at that.

“How long has it been now?” you murmur, gently nudging your shoulder against his. You keep close to him, feeling yourself relax at the mere scent of him. Jungkook always somehow manages to smell good; you suppose that’s a given since you don’t think he’s even capable of sweating.

“Since the party started?” he asks.

“No, silly. How long has it been since you last fed?”

“Three days, seventeen hours, and twenty-one minutes, ma’am. But who’s counting?” he wheezes, offering you a strained smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really, but I know you,” you reply. A little too well, in fact. “Seokjin hasn’t even allowed you a snack? Even once?”

Jungkook coughs out a laugh, amused. “You and I both know that hyung wouldn’t be that merciful. He did say that if I behave today, then maybe…” he trails off. You don’t miss the way he stares longingly at you, thinly veiled desire rolling off him in waves.

You feel the blood rushing up to your face, turning away from him in embarrassment. You have to remind yourself not to rub your neck, lest the make-up covering your fading scar give away your dirty little secret. “I’m sorry, by the way. I kind of did this to both of us, huh?”

Jungkook chuckles, snaking an arm around your waist. You shoot him a warning glare, but you both know he only dares to get comfortable with you when he’s sure no one is watching. Besides, it’s always been hard for you to get mad at the boy, not when he has always been so sweet with you.

“No, it’s fine. We all agreed to this when you proposed it. Besides, neither hyung nor I are going to risk our health when your safety is on the line. It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, glancing at him doubtfully. You have never seen Jungkook quite so… unhinged before, as if he’s just a step away from teetering off the edge. It scares you just as much as it arouses you, but you make sure to keep that to yourself. “I honestly didn’t think Seokjin would be this ruthless.”

Jungkook snorts. “I’ve known him for a long time, Y/N. Trust me when I say that he is definitely going easy on us, especially you.”

“If this is easy, I’m afraid to know how he’s like when he goes all out then,” you say, but the thought of Seokjin becoming even more merciless than usual sends an excited shiver down your spine.

“How about you?” Jungkook asks. “Are you doing okay with the, um, you know?” He flushes, still shy to even say it aloud even after all the things the two of you have done together.

You giggle, unable to resist the urge to tease him. “You tell me, Koo. You can smell me, can’t you?” You lean closer, looking at him through your lashes. “You could probably smell from across the ballroom, especially with how hungry you are… My poor baby,” you coo. You have your chest pressed against his, your low neckline leaving nothing to the imagination. And yet, his gaze is fixed elsewhere, red eyes following the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips.

It’s a rhetorical question; you know he can smell you. The remote vibrator in your underwear has been on the lowest setting ever since the night started. The vibrations are persistent enough to keep you constantly aroused, but it’s never enough to give you what you really want.

And just when you think you’ve gotten used to the sensation, Seokjin will spike it up occasionally, causing your composure to crack ever so slightly. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t turned it on to the highest setting yet, but judging from how the dampness of your underwear has seeped past your thighs, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to keep your cool if he did.

“Do I smell good, Koo? I know you said my blood tastes sweetest when I’m like this, right?” you whisper, trailing a finger down his chest. He does not reply, his nostrils flaring as he struggles to control his breathing. He has a dangerous edge in his expression, a simmering darkness just begging to be released. It’s the kind of lust that sweet and lovely Jungkook hardly ever has the capability of showcasing, except during moments like these, when he is at his hungriest and most desperate.

“I’m not going to lose the game this early on,” he says, voice quiet. There is danger in still waters, you recall your mother telling you when you were younger, and you find that there is truth behind her words after all. Jungkook may sound calm, but the edge in his tone is laced with meaning.

“No fun,” you laugh.

As if on cue, your own dose of karma hits you when Seokjin decides to turn the vibrator up to its maximum setting. “Shit,” you gasp, barely holding back your moans. You nearly double over, mostly from shock, not expecting the intensity of the vibrations. You feel your legs turn to jelly, your body heating up and breaking out into a sweat. You have to lean against Jungkook for support, your grip on his biceps so tight that you’re afraid that you might have torn through the fabric. If he had been human, you might have worried that you were hurting him.

Jungkook stumbles slightly against your weight, surprising the both of you as he’s normally as sturdy as a brick wall. Your worry for Jungkook supersedes the lust addling your brain long enough to wonder if his blood fast is starting to affect him.

“S-sorry, Koo. Are you okay? Are you getting dizzy from hunger?” you ask, your words stilted and breathy as you try to ignore the pleasure coursing through your veins. “We can go somewhere and—fuckfuckfuck—”

You are unable to finish your sentence, having to muffle your moans by biting into his shoulder. You’re shaking and panting, the relentless assault on your clit causing a fresh wave of arousal to drip down your cunt and ruin your panties even further. The coil inside of you is close to snapping, your long-awaited climax just inches away. You have half a mind to reach under your dress and chase after your high, but the sensible part of you reminds you that you are still at a public event—your father’s public event, to be exact. So instead, you wrap your arms around Jungkook to restrain yourself, looking to all the world as if you were just two lovers in an embrace.

Just as you’re about to finish, the vibrator shuts off completely, snatching away any hopes of you coming. You want to scream in frustration, a few tears threatening to fall as you squeeze your eyes tightly. Eventually, you release your death grip on Jungkook, keeping your head bowed to hide the way you’re still short for breath. When you feel less hazy, you take a shaky step away from him while muttering apologies to Jungkook.

“S-sorry about that. So much for Seokjin going easy on me, huh? I really didn’t expect him to pull a fast one on me like that—”

When Jungkook doesn’t respond, you turn back to face him. “O-oh,” you whisper lamely, your blood heating up when your gaze meets his. “Jungkook?” you call out, though you don’t think he’ll be up for much conversation right now.

You have never quite seen him like this before. His eyes have started glowing red, so much so that there’s barely a sliver of white remaining. His fangs have extended far past what should have been humanly possible, its sharp tips puncturing his bottom lip. He doesn’t even appear to be moving, not even showing any signs that he might have been breathing at all.

“Jungkook,” you repeat. You tug on his sleeve hesitantly, but he stands as still as a statue. “Jungkook, get a hold of yourself!” It takes you a few moments of coaxing and shaking before some semblance of lucidity returns to him.

He blinks a few times, but his incisors have yet to retract. “Sorry,” he grunts, bringing a hand up to his face. He rubs at his eyes, and when he reopens them, they’ve stopped glowing. His irises are still a deep shade of red. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d lose myself there. That’s never happened before.”

“You were kinda scary there for a second,” you laugh nervously. “Almost like you were going to eat me alive.”

“I honestly might have,” Jungkook admits. “If Seokjin hadn’t stopped you from coming right then, I might have just fed from you right in the open.”

You shiver. You kind of hate yourself for liking the sound of that, even if it was hypothetical. Your bodyguards wouldn’t risk your reputation like that. For a moment, it almost could have been real though, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

“You would’ve lost the game then,” you say instead.

Jungkook chuckles weakly, shaking his head. “You, Seokjin, and I already knew from the start that if anyone was going to lose, it was always going to be me.”

“Conceding defeat, then?” you ask. You press your thighs together in anticipation, catching the way he watches your movements like a predator awaiting its prey. “Is anyone watching us?”

With your back facing the party, you would never have known if anyone was close enough to hear your strangled moans back then. Ever the attentive bodyguard despite hunger and lust clouding his mind, Jungkook had still made sure that the two of you were far away enough from prying eyes. Well, with the exception of one.

“He was watching us,” Jungkook mumbles. You don’t turn to look when he points somewhere behind you. “He’s by the northwest entrance. He was watching us the whole time, but now he’s talking to your brother’s bodyguard.”

“How much do you wanna bet he won’t notice us sneaking out?” you ask, giggling when Jungkook gives you an incredulous look. “What? Didn’t you once say you could sneak me out of anywhere without my father knowing?”

“Your father and Kim Seokjin are two different people in two different leagues,” he points out. He glances at Seokjin once more, rubbing his neck nervously. “Oh, he’s definitely going to figure out what we’re doing the moment we get out of here.”

You shrug, already tugging him by the hand towards the restroom outside the ballroom. You wink at him, your giggles full of mischief. “Then it’s settled. We lose this game, and then we start another one.”

“Another one?” Jungkook echoes, following you like a dutiful pet. When you exit the ballroom, you find the reception area empty save for a few other security guards loitering by the elevators, surreptitiously on their phones. You easily make it past them and head to where the restrooms are, setting your sights on the polished wooden doors.

You push Jungkook inside the women’s restroom, locking the door once you both are settled inside. Turning to face him with an eager grin, you almost let out a laugh at the overenthusiastic gleam in his eyes. “New game plan. I call this one the ‘let’s see if we can get off before Seokjin catches us’ game.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Jungkook chuckles, but he’s already opening his arms when you walk over to him. You accept his embrace, pressing him against the marble sinks and slotting your lips together.

The kiss is fiery, all teeth and no finesse. He has one hand grabbing fistfuls of your ass and the other cupping your jaw as he holds you in place. Your own hands almost seem like they don’t know what to do, scrambling up and down his sides before finally locking around his neck as your mind goes blank.

Jungkook’s incisors cut your lips accidentally, causing droplets of blood to trickle down. They don’t even make it past your chin before Jungkook’s voracious tongue is already lapping it up, his groans echoing in the vastly large room.

You barely register the pain before Jungkook is offering another distraction in the form of his lips trailing down to your jaw until he reaches your neck, his breath leaving goosebumps across your skin. “Y/N,” he rasps, his fangs dizzyingly close.

Before he can choose to do anything, you trail a finger to his chin, forcing him to look at you. His eyes appear glazed over, almost as if he isn’t even fully cognizant of his surroundings. But when he catches sight of the way a fresh droplet of blood is already beginning to take form on your lips, his gaze hardens immediately.

You smirk, giggling when he groans at you licking up your bloodied lip. “No marks on my neck, baby. You’re gonna have to drink from down there.”

In any other scenario, you might have been concerned at how quickly he drops to his knees. He doesn’t look too bothered, however, as he bunches up your dress to your chest and tears your pathetic excuse for underwear into shreds. The small purple vibrator falls to the ground along with it, neither of you worried about where it is rolling away.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, burying his nose into your cunt. You yelp loudly, sensitive after hours of edging. You unconsciously try to trap him with your thighs, but he holds them apart with an iron grip. From your vantage point, you can only see his eyelashes grazing your stomach as he licks two long stripes across your slit, nearly causing you to fall over had he not been holding you.

“Shit.” He leans back to look at you properly, his mouth shiny with your slick. “Can I? Can I please?”

You don’t even know what exactly it is that he’s asking, but you’re already nodding anyway, eager for him to do something, anything. “Yes, yes, yes. C’mon, Koo. Give it to me,” you whine. Your voice sounds hoarse to your ears, desperate and delirious.

Not one to disobey, Jungkook does exactly that. One moment he is on the floor and the next he is lifting you with ease, placing you on the marble counter and standing between your legs to keep them spread. He returns to kneeling and hooks your legs onto his shoulders. He caresses your thighs with a gentleness that seems out of place, craning his neck sideways so he can plant a chaste kiss on your inner thigh.

You whimper impatiently, nudging him with your knee. “Jungkook, this is sweet and all, but my pussy has been aching to be stuffed for hours now so I’d really appreciate it if we can just get on with the pro-o-g-gram—” you stammer, your verbal skills forgotten the moment his thumb brushes your clit. Your body jerks on instinct, his delicate touch like lightning on your skin. “Ah, fuck! Jungkook, please!”

You have your head thrown back, unable to keep still when he proceeds to push a finger into you without warning. He pumps into you slowly, the drag of his fingertips torturously slow as you incoherently beg for more.

“More? You fucking asked for it,” he grunts, adding a second finger and being rewarded with another chorus of moans from you. He fucks his fingers into you like a drill, the obscene squelch of your sopping cunt coupled with the sound of palm hitting against your clit is like music to his ears. He can sense the way your blood is rushing through you right now, pleasure thrumming through your limbs and making you intoxicatingly sweet.

“I can’t wait to taste you, darling,” he says, licking his lips in anticipation. “You must love this, don’t you? Love it when I finger you like this, even though you know hyung is going to catch us and punish us for this?”

You nod fervently, incoherent babbles dribbling from your open mouth. “W-want both of you! Want S-Seokjin to catch us and make us cry.” You gasp, your stomach clenching when he curls his fingers in just the right way to make your toes curl in pleasure. “Koo, I’m a-almost there!”

Your pussy, despite hours of being constantly aroused, still feels like a vice grip, selfishly sucking him back. He relishes your moans, drawing more sounds out of you that you had not known you were capable of producing. There is no time or space for shame as your whines grow higher in pitch, calling out his name when you sense your orgasm approach.

Jungkook feels feverish when he finally takes a bite from your skin, your blood made sweeter when you climaxed from his fingers alone. The meat of your thigh gushes crimson like a fountain upon his desert-like tongue. He is drunk on you; not even nectar can be sweeter than you.

He drinks for what feels like hours, lapping at your wound until he cannot stomach another drop. A blatant lie, of course, but he also does not wish to drink you dry. So with a heavy heart, he pulls away, leaving one last lick up your thigh to stop the bleeding. He slumps back on his knees, his head lolling drowsily as he looks at you with a satisfied smile.

You are in no better condition, your chest heaving as you struggle to regain your sanity after both the mind-blowing orgasm and blood loss. Still, you smirk sleepily back at him, your eyebrow raised as if in question.

“What?” Jungkook drawls.

Instead of a verbal response, you point at his crotch with your feet. When he looks down, his dick is completely hard, his erection straining against his slacks. He was so deeply engrossed in the flavor of you that he had not even stopped to consider his own arousal, but now that it has been so kindly pointed out by you, the need to be inside of you consumes him like a fire burning him on a stake.

A guttural sound escapes his throat, a renewed fervor pushing him to climb to his feet in an instant. Impatient, he struggles for a moment to loosen his belt, has half a mind to just tear his pants in two when—

“Jeon Jungkook, can you hear me?”

Jungkook stiffens. Unable to hear the voice coming from his earpiece, you give Jungkook a quizzical look, wondering why he’d suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Koo? What’s the matter?” you ask, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Jeon Jungkook, answer me,” Seokjin’s voice is slightly garbled by static, but the authority in his tone is unmistakable.

Jungkook swallows thickly. He lifts the small microphone attached to his lapel, bringing it closer to his lips. “H-hyung?” he stutters. Your eyes widen, realization and panic seizing you.

You both share a frantic look. Fuck!

Seokjin chuckles darkly. “Took you long enough. Did you and our little mistress have fun?”

“W-well, we—” Jungkook stammers, looking to you for help. You shrug your shoulders, equally as tongue-tied. He returns to his mic, “We were just, umm…”

“Open the door,” is all Seokjin utters before Jungkook’s earpiece goes dead. Jungkook rips the small piece of plastic from his ear, both of you turning to the door when a loud knock reverberates across the restroom.

“It’s…” Jungkook cuts off, but he doesn’t need to say anything for you to know exactly who is waiting outside the door.

“Open the door,” Seokjin repeats, but there’s a certain quality to his voice that makes both you and Jungkook immediately want to follow his command. Without another word, Jungkook stands up stiffly, his feet dragging as he unlocks the door to allow him inside.

“No fair,” you complain. You pout, crossing your arms. “You used your siren voice on us!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to use it if you two weren’t acting like a pair of brats,” Seokjin says, sickly sweet. He’s smiling, but there is darkness lingering in his expression. It doesn’t help that your lower body is still exposed, free for his gaze to roam. “Do you have any idea how much trouble the two of you are in?”

“I’m sure my father is hardly concerned,” you scoff, filled with false bravado. You smirk when his eyebrows furrow, keen to tempt his anger. After all, Seokjin is the most fun to play with when he lets go. “Besides, I pay you to look out for me, don’t I? I’d expect you to come up with an excuse on our behalf.”

“I suppose so,” Seokjin hums. He glances at Jungkook, whose prior arousal has yet to subside. In a flash, Seokjin has Jungkook backed up to a toilet cabinet, roughly grabbing his bulge. Jungkook wheezes, his eyes flashing open in surprise.

“And you?” Seokjin asks, using his free hand to force Jungkook to face him. “You understand that you left your post, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jungkook gasps out. Seokjin’s grip tightens, and Jungkook releases a soft moan.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes hyung,” Jungkook emphasizes, his hips unconsciously rutting upwards. Seokjin situates his thigh in between Jungkook’s legs, letting the younger boy rock against it for a few moments before pulling back just as quickly. Jungkook whines pathetically, jaw agape.

“You both lost the game. What makes you think you deserve anything?” Seokjin asks. He directs his question to you, glancing over his shoulder. “Well? Did I interrupt something I wasn’t supposed to see?”

When you don’t reply, Seokjin frowns. “Answer me, Y/N.”

His voice is musical, and it pulls the answer out of you, unable to resist. “Yes,” you say, through gritted teeth.

“What were you going to do?”

“He was going to fuck me,” you say. You smirk when his shoulders tense. “We were going to fuck without you.”

At your admission, Seokjin considers you with an unreadable expression. The tension in the air is tangible. Jungkook has his eyes averted, but judging from the way his cock twitches in his trousers, you know he’s also aware of what’s going to happen. All you need to do is wait a little, and then Seokjin will—

He steps away from Jungkook and walks towards the chaise lounge situated near the wall of the entrance. He sits on it primly, his back straightened as though he were about to call you in for tea. “Go on then,” he says, flapping his hands flippantly. When neither of you moves, he quirks an eyebrow in amusement. “What? Don’t let me ruin your fun. Continue where you left off.”

“Um…” you say, thoroughly at a loss. This is usually the point where Seokjin decides to punish either of you, or perhaps drag the two of you back home for more adequate disciplinary action. Instead, he seems content to allow the two of you to do as you please. He has a mask of indifference on, and it’s always been a little hard for you to figure out what he was really thinking.

“But…” Jungkook gulps. “W-we wanted you to, um…”

“What? To join you? Oh please,” Seokjin laughs, a little cruelly. “No, I’d rather not stop your fun. Carry on.”

“But—”

“Carry. On.” Seokjin commands, his power trickling onto his words. At once, Jungkook straightens up, his feet carrying him towards you and spreading your legs apart. You gasp, the sudden movement surprising you.

“Seokjin, what are you..?”

“Fuck her, Jungkook,” Seokjin interrupts, ignoring your baffled stutters. “Fuck her until she can’t even stand.”

Jungkook shoves down his pants and underwear in one swift motion, kicking them off his ankles somewhere behind him. He situates his cock against you, rubbing the tip against your slit for a second before thrusting forward and splitting you open.

You both scream and moan at the sensation, your warm walls clamped around him deliciously. He begins his brutal pace immediately, both due to his desperation to meet his orgasm and also the magic imbued in the simple command given by Seokjin.

The intoxicating roll of his hips has your eyes seeing stars as he pulls out nearly all the way before pushing back in. He angles himself until he hits your sweet spot with every thrust, ripping ragged whimpers from your throat. Your second orgasm is quickly building before you know it, your body tightening up as he continues to rut into you.

With a trembling moan, you gush around him, coating his cock with your arousal. Your legs are still shaking even after you finish, your entire body going limp from the exertion. Jungkook slows down, still painfully hard inside of you.

“Did I tell you to stop? Keep going,” Seokjin utters quietly. He is the picture of calmness, his hands folded delicately onto his lap.

“What?” you exclaim. “I can’t, no, it’s too much—”

But when it comes to Seokjin, his word is the law. Between the two of you, Jungkook has always been more susceptible to his voice, completely powerless under Seokjin’s influence. And so, Jungkook resumes fucking into you, mindlessly obedient.

“I’m too—Jungkook, stop, I’m sensitive,” you cry out, but your pleas go unheard as he reaches between the two of you, his thumb grazing your clit and causing your entire body to jolt forward. Your walls squeeze around his cock in response and Jungkook trembles in pleasure. His ministrations on your clit, in tandem with the swiveling of his hips, are almost vicious, the sting both pleasurable and painful.

You can feel the beginnings of tears forming, the assault on your senses almost too unbearable to handle. “S-Seokjin, please! Make him stop!”

Jungkook is nearing his climax, his rhythm growing erratic and showing no signs of slowing down. He is unable to hear you past his desire, completely entranced and hypnotized.

“You want him to stop? Fine,” Seokjin says, amused. “Jungkook, stop.”

“No, please!” Jungkook lets out a tortured wail. His body freezes in place, his cock still twitching inside of you. The poor boy lets out a few stray tears, his eyes squeezed shut as his body refuses to do his bidding. He sobs, his voice cracking as he pleads, “Hyung, I was so close!”

“Not my problem,” Seokjin giggles. He gets up from his perch on the sofa, leisurely walking towards the both of you as he surveys the frozen boy with a satisfied grin. “That ought to teach you a lesson,” he says, patting Jungkook on the back.

“And you,” he says, facing you, “aren’t getting away so easily.”

You gulp, a shudder running down your spine. “B-but, the party..?”

Snorting incredulously, Seokjin taps his microphone on. “Namjoon-ssi? Yes, I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly. I found Miss Y/N. It seems that she is having stomach problems, so I’ll be escorting her home. Please inform Master Min about her early departure,” he says in one breath, shutting his earpiece off before the other man can reply.

“It seems like everything is already taken care of,” Seokjin says angelically, even though he is anything but. He bends down to pick up Jungkook’s discarded pants, handing them to the younger. He also finds your forgotten vibrator under one of the sinks, picking it up and placing it neatly into his pocket.

He smiles. “Get dressed, both of you. The night is still young, after all.”

[s0fter-sin]

soapghost circus au

ghost’s an extreme motorcycle stunt performer - globe of death, riding on his back wheel along tightropes, that sort of thing

soap’s a fire breather/dancer. he’s a roaming performer; he just finds empty spaces or bored people and starts twirling

he pretends not to notice the way he always wanders towards a certain tent every night to watch a certain masked daredevil defy gravity. he thinks he's slick and that ghost won't notice him in the crowd, completely forgetting that he's carrying something that happens to be on fire

ghost couldn't miss him if he tried

one day off, soap's trialing fire whips; he loves the loud crack and the way the flame licks through the air and maybe he's a little too impatient to practice with non flaming whips first, even though he's never used one before

he's covered in soot and fine welts where the tip of the whip keeps flicking back up at him, cutting through his shirt and stinging his skin but he doesn't let that stop him. it starts to stick to him, damp with sweat and blood and he's quick to strip it off; throwing it to the side to keep practicing

when soap finally gets a few good cracks in a row and breaks to celebrate, he almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the masked rider leaning against a trailer watching him

of all the times he's wanted ghost to talk to him, this is not one of them

he wanted to impress him, dance for him with his flaming batons and be mesmerised by his fluidity and skill

not catch him filthy and struggling with something as basic as a whip

he's ready for ghost to ream him out for not having control over the whip - he's known throughout the circuit for expecting utter perfection in his routines - but when ghost finally does speak, it's only to ask if he's done for the day

soap falters for a moment. he wanted to get some consistency with the whip before he stopped, but he's starting to feel the hours of practice; muscles aching and skin blistered with minor burns

he says he is and ghost pushes off the trailer, nodding his head to make soap follow. he brings him back to his trailer and tells him to clean up then takes out his personal med kit to treat the grazes on soap's skin

soap's shocked; for all that he loves to watch ghost perform, they've never really talked before

part of why he joined the circus was so he wouldn't be a burden on anyone, the oldest in a family with too many mouths to feed and not even time to nurture, and here he is taking up ghost's valuable practice time bc he wasn't good enough to handle his own discipline. he tries to brush him off, downplaying the burns and tries to leave before half them can be treated but ghost just glares and orders him to sit back down

ghost does expect perfection from himself but it isn’t out of any malice or ego; it's bc he knows if he isn't perfect, he could very easily die. he’s picked a dangerous profession and he gives it the respect it deserves. there isn't any shame in being a novice or failing at something; he thinks there's a lot of beauty in having the courage to get back up again and again

so every day he watches soap practice and bullies him into his trailer to put him back together bc he knows he won't do it by himself

and every night soap wanders over to ghost's section of the fair grounds, in awe of his skill and wishing he could be worthy of the care he gives him

[solarwonux]

Wildflower || Lee Chan

chan x f!reader

w.c: 3.0k

warnings: smut, thigh riding, car sex, drinking, mentions of weed

note: another repost aaaa I’m sorry but good news my semester had ended so now I can finally sit down and write. Anyway, enjoy let me know your thoughts

p.s listen to wildflower by 5sos while reading this if you’d like.

p.p.s my requests are open so if you’d like one send them in hehe,xx

masterlist

The flames of the campfire burned making your eyes sting in discomfort. You blinked rapidly trying to regain the moisture back in your eyes but your efforts were deemed as unsuccessful. You sighed, placing your head on top of Chan’s shoulder, feeling him shake as he laughed at something Jun had said. The arm that was securely wrapped around you got tighter, making the butterflies in your stomach erupt, just like they did everytime you were in his presence.

“You okay?” He glazed over at you, his cheeks flushed pink from the wine he had been indulging in all throughout the night. “I’m fine, my eyes are just a little dry.” You assured him, giving him a slight nod of the head. “I have some eye drops in my car if you want them.”

“God, yes please.”

Chan grinned and leaned down. He placed a soft kiss against your forehead before turning to face his friends, who had started poking fun at Chan, making all sorts of childish remarks. Chan rolled his eyes and grabbed a twig from the ground before throwing it at Soonyoung who was making kissy faces at the two of you like a five year old.

“You guys are so annoying.” He chuckled. He removed the blanket he had placed over the two of you. The cool wind of the ocean breeze hitting your arms making you shiver slightly. “Sometimes you just make it so easy for us.” Jeonghan said pointedly tilting his cup of wine in the direction you two were sitting in before bringing it up to his rosy lips and chugging it down.

“Whatever, we’re going.” Chan stood up and threw the blanket onto Joshua’s lap, who’s face lit up as he rushed to cover his body with the thin wool. “We’ll be back in like ten minutes.” He pulled you up by your arms gently and pecked your lips once you were at eye level with him.

“Ten minutes huh, so you’re like a hit it and quit it type of guy.” Jeonghan joked, sending the rest of the boys into fits of uncontrollable laughter. “We’re going to my car to get eye drops…I really hate all of you.” Chan groaned, pulling on your arm, silently asking you to follow him and get away from your friends as fast as possible. You trailed behind him laughing, listening to how they now decided to take it upon themselves and gossip about yours and Chan’s sex life. Each one making insane claims, only making Chan’s steps get faster causing him to trip every few steps due to the sinking sand surrounding your bare feet.

“I bet getting eye drops is like code for sex now a days.”

It was unclear, in your wine filled haze, how the two of you went from desperately searching for eye drops to now making out in the back seat of his car.

Eye drops.

That was the only purpose of your trip to the nearly empty parking lot. But when he couldn’t find them mumbling curses as he tore his car apart, finally realizing that Vernon had probably taken them after they had smoked a week ago. He gave up, staying silent for a few seconds before pulling you into the back seat. One you had familiarized yourself with after years of dating and sneaking around. Your scent etched in between the cracks of the old leather seats, a thought that always managed to turn your insides into mush.

“Mmm…we should go back.” You mumbled clinging onto Chan as you pushed his head further into your neck. He hummed nodding his head slightly as he desperately sucked a love bite onto the skin of your collar bone. “We should, but I don’t want to.” He raised his head, smirking, hooking his thumbs around your belt loops and pulling you onto his lap. “I have a few propositions for you.” He smirked and brought your shirt over your head revealing the white lace of your bra. “So innocent.” His fingers delicately traced along the lace detailing, as you waited for his so-called propositions or genius ideas as he sometimes liked to call them.

“Why don’t we try that thing you mentioned the other day over lunch last week?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and if your body wasn’t already feeling hot due to the alcohol coursing through your veins. The memory of your lunch date last Monday would’ve surely done it. “Here. Where we can get caught by our friends or worse the police?”

“That’s what makes it more exciting.” He winked and unbuttoned your shorts. His fingers teasing the seam of your matching panties waiting for your go ahead. It made your heart sore knowing that after years of dating he still waited for your approval. “Fuck it let’s do it.” You raised your body and brought down your shorts, hitting the back of your head in the process causing a loud laugh to erupt from Chan’s lips.

“Stop laughing and help me.”

“What did you want me to do? Look at you like you’ve sprung a third head?” He helped you take them off and threw them over the front seat. “You’re right I prefer you laughing.” You nodded before straddling his thigh and hooking your arms around his neck. He hummed and placed an arm underneath his head smugly before grabbing hold of your hip with his other one.

“Go on baby girl, I’m giving a free pass to get off on my thigh.”

“Like I need a pass anyway.”

“Hmm…I guess you’re right. I succumb to you in every possible way. All you have to do is open your mouth and ask.” Chan brought his arm down again before reaching over and placing his thumb against your bottom lip. He tugged on it making you open your mouth before inserting it, your tongue swirling around the calloused digit making him groan. “I miss seeing your mouth around me but I guess that can wait, now move baby.” He gave your hip a light tap before inserting his hand in between the waistband of your panties and groping your ass cheek.

You opened your mouth in an inaudible moan, his thumb falling out of your lips and onto your chin painting it with your saliva. You moved your hips experimentally, testing the waters scared that the fantasy you had been creating in your head wouldn’t be as pleasurable as you had pictured. Only to be proved wrong when the friction of his bare thigh against your panty clothed core sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Back to my propositions. If you can come undone on just my thigh, I promise I’ll fuck you until your seeing stars.”

Chan snickered watching your face contort in blissful pleasure as you started to confidently move your hips. He nosed at your neck before licking a strip up the shell of your ear making you whimper. “Does this make you feel good?” He teased, a smirk evident in his voice as he bounced his leg up. A choked moan escaping your chapped lips joining the heat in the air, while you shamelessly started to grind down on his thigh.

“G-God this is better than I imagined.” You threw your head back resting it on the seat in front of you. “I don’t know what’s better, hearing you say you’ve imagined this or watching it happen in front of me.” His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth. He clawed at your hips guiding you into a steady rhythm before taking his free hand and inserting it in the front of panties making you gasp.. He guides his fingers lower, gathering your slick before taking them out and bringing them up to his lips, lapping them sensually while you watched with hooded eyes.

“I want to feel you inside me, please.” You sat up and tugged at his shirt before bringing it over his head. “Please baby I want to feel full.” You dug your nails into his chest feeling the tension build up in the pit of your stomach.

“You will, once you come.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. He kissed your cheek before undoing the clasp of your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders. “It’s amazing how I don’t have to do anything for you to fall apart.” He boosted, taking your earlobe in between his teeth. You moaned out loudly as he started bouncing his leg and pushing you down on him even further.

“Let go for me baby.” He whispered in your ear before leaving open mouthed kisses down your neck. He bit down on your collar bone making you cry out as your body shook. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, sighing out his name. Chan let out a satisfied hum as he held your body close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You panted as your head fell in the crock of his neck. You sighed happily and ran your hand down his toned stomach, playing with the knot of his swimming trunks.

“That was the hottest thing ever love, we should do it more often.”

If there was one thing you would never complain about regarding your boyfriend was the fact that he always kept true to his promises. But if there was one thing that you could complain about was how truly evil he was when it came to giving you what you wanted.

You hated it.

“Channie stop fucking around and just get on with it.” You groaned as he pressed the head of his cock on your clit.

“Patience is a virtue honey.”

“Well my patience is wearing thin, if we take any longer the guys are going to come looking for us.” You arched your back as he ran his cock down your pussy lips, making you clench over nothing. He pulled back and spread your arousal along with his precum over his angry head, giving himself a few tugs before positioning himself at your entrance again.

“Frankly I am a little offended that you’re thinking about other men, while we’re in such a compromising position.” Chan says as he slowly starts to push in, your heat taking him and wrapping around him deliciously. Even after years of dating he still had such an overwhelming effect on you and he knew that. It made his chest swell up with pride knowing he was the only one that could make you feel the way he did.

“You always take me so well, always so tight. It’s like you’re made for me sweetheart.” He groaned once he was fully sheathed inside of you. Chan leaned down and captured your lips with his, swallowing your whimpers as he slowly started moving. He kept his pace, giving you time to adjust to him knowing fully well that it had been awhile since the two of you had had some alone time.

“B-Baby…f-fuck. You can move a little more.” You mumbled against his lips, clinging onto him. Your nails blissfully digging into his shoulder blades making him moan. He picked up his pace, his mouth trailing down the navel of your breasts, mumbling sweet sinful phrases, etching them into your skin. You arched your back, pushing yourself further into his mouth as he started hitting the mushy soft spot inside of you. Impressed that he had wasted no time in finding it, proving to you once again that he knew your body as if it were his second skin.

“Angel please let me cum inside of you.” He begged his kisses on your skin getting more desperate as well as his thrusts, causing the little coil of pleasure to form in the pit of your stomach. And as much as you didn’t want this moment to end, to stay underneath him in the cramped back seat of his car. To beg him to make you come undone over and over until your body couldn’t handle it anymore. You knew you couldn’t. It had been well over ten minutes.

“Hmm…are you sure?” You placed both of your hands on either side of his head pulling him off your nipple. The loss of his mouth disappoints you but you need to see his face. Needed to see the pleasure he was feeling painted over his perfect features. “Are we ready for that?” You let out a whimper as his thrusts got slower yet harder, making it a point for you to really feel him inside you. To take in how the head of his cock hit your g-spot. To feel the ridges and his veins pulsing against your soft velvety walls, indicating that he was starting to get close.

“More than ready…p-please I want to fill you up with my cum.” He begged resting his forehead against yours, his mouth opened with pleasure. His hot alcohol induced breath fanning your face making chills run down your spin. You nodded, your whimpers getting more desperate as he started to rub his thumb along your clit in moderate circles. The pressure increased as the two of you desperately started to chase your highs. The heat of his car wrapping like a blanket around the two of you making the intensity of the moment even higher.

It made you feel as if the two of you were back in high school and sneaking around with one another. Making out in the same seats during lunch time choosing each other rather than your food. It brought back memories of all the nights underneath the stars at the abandoned football field, listening to him spew random facts about space. And the first night the two of you made love to one another by the lake on a raggedy old blanket his grandma had given him for the holiday season. It was overwhelming to have him this close to you always. To feel him and every inch of his body knowing very well you were the only one that was able to make him come undone the way he always did. And it sent you to the moon.

“C-Channie I’m close.” You breathed out. Your hands moved down his back, pushing him deeper into you. Trying your hardest to feel him closer than what he already was. He moaned out your name like a prayer, his thumb on your clit getting faster as well as his deep thrusts. The dam that had been kept away broke and you felt your orgasm crash harder than before.

“F-Fuck me.” Chan moaned his head falling into your neck as he came undone, painting your walls with his sticky substance. He thrusted into you a bit more, your walls milking him out as he mumbled sweet praises against the shell of your ear.

“I already did.” You joked, a low laugh escaping his lungs as your chests heaved against one another. “I have a proposition for you now.” You whispered snaking your hand up his back and resting it against the back of his head.

“Okay, what is it?”

“We should do that more often.” You giggled. He raised his head giving you a smug look before cupping your chin and bringing it up so his lips were hovering over yours. “How about a round two and we call it a night.” He proposed giving you a chaste kiss before rubbing his nose against yours.

“I think that’s the greatest idea you’ve had all day.”

Chan held onto your hand tightly as the two of you slowly made your way back to the beach camp. Your body was exhausted and you could tell Chan’s was also. Which made you laugh as sometimes the two of you liked to think you had the same stamina you had when you were younger. Each time you were proved wrong but neither of you liked to admit it.

“Finally, we were starting to think you guys got kidnapped.” Seokmin said as he leaned forward roasting a marshmallow.

“To be fair DK and Hoshi were the only ones that thought that. The rest of us knew exactly what was going on.” Vernon spoke, taking a bite out of his s’more, groaning in disappointment when the melted marshmallow fell out of the confinements of the cracker and onto his chin.

“We were looking for eye drops, which by the way I know you took.” Chan sat down on one of the empty lounge chairs. He pulled your arm gently before circling them around your waist and bringing you down onto his lap. You smiled shaking your head as the lewd comments started to filter in.

“I knew that was code for sex.”

“No it’s code for actually looking for eye drops.” Chan gazed over at you. “Right baby?” He sent you a playfully wink making you laugh. No matter what came out of your mouth next, the teasing would never stop. And you knew they would be bringing up the eye drop story as they were now deeming it, until the day you took your last breath. So you shook your head and gave Chan a quick peck before turning to face your friends.

“Chan’s right we were just looking for eye drops.”

[hansensgirl]

salvatore | v.

series summary. — Bucky Barnes doesn’t believe in love anymore. Especially after the tragic, unknown death of his wife, Natasha. He thinks it’s stupid and a waste of time and- oh my. Hello there, you. There you were, with your notebooks and your novels, writing your heart away. He’s hellbent on saving you from this nasty world, his elusive neighbor that has him under the stupid spell of love. You soon find yourself trapped in a tragic love story with Bluebeard, not Prince Charming.

warnings. — NONCON/DUBCON, dark themes, stalking, obsessive behaviours, anxiety, broken glass, a panic attack, talk of bucky’s past and his mental health, angst, fluff, kissing, dark!Bucky Barnes, voyeurism, cameras, mentions of cheating, violence, perving, manipulation, feelings, 18+!!!

pairings. — Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader.

authors note. — finally another chapter! this one is kinda sad but the next chapter will be fluffier heh. i changed my mind and i will not be doing a sequel after i finish this series, i’m so sorry! please reblog, leave some feedback and enjoy yourself!

Bucky couldn’t believe his cerulean eyes. Tears filled them and one ran down his cheek, soaking into his beard that he just trimmed that morning. He so desperately wanted to return to your home and beg you, ask you, plead to you, why? He made sure the polaroid didn’t have even the slightest crease to it, and not even a speck of dust either. The room started to spin, and his chest began to tighten. Each breath he took in didn’t seem to be enough for him.

The polaroid slipped out of his hands and his grip on reality went with it as well. Bucky doubled over, his mouth falling open as he began to dry heave. The tears didn’t relent either. His head spun, vision blurry with crystal tears that fell easily. “Ekkk...” He choked out, the urge to throw up washing over him. He stumbled across the kitchen and reached the other side, a dull sunshine making its way into his home.

Leaning over the granite countertop, he peered out the window for intrusive passersby. Oh how he wished to see you on the other side of the bulletproof glass. His fumbling fingers found the handle of the drawer, sweat covering it slickly. As he yanked it open, his bionic, vibranium hand formed a tight fist and collided itself to the window. He pulled his arm back and continued to do so, punching and hitting at the glass that held the world back from him.

Under his breath, he cursed himself for getting strong windows that didn’t have any mechanisms to open it with. But Bucky had his reasons that nobody knew about. The glass soon began to crack beneath his sheer force, distorting his beautiful view of the outdoors. The window broke completely with a loud crash and fresh, cool air filled his nostrils.

He felt the tightness in his chest slowly beginning to go away, but he was still erratic. Reaching into the drawer that was for emergency purposes only, he pulled out a thick photo album. He flipped it open and smiled when he saw the photos of you, happy and relaxed. The sight of you at his hands calmed him down. He flipped through the pages and sighed at each photo, ones that he took of you himself.

Pictures of you sleeping, of you going to buy groceries, of you showering and of you at your most vulnerable moments. In his eyes, the pictures were a form of art — derived from his love and devotion for you. Clumsily, he pulled his favorite picture out from the flimsy plastic sleeve. Freshly printed, edges sharp and almost untouched — pristine and rare.

A candid of you smiling gently, reading the book he gave you as you listened to some forties songs that he had posted on his Instagram about. You clutched the book softly and hugged a teddy bear that was from your childhood. Oh how he would kill to be wrapped in your arms, to have you bring him back from the war his mind constantly went through, to whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Bucky soon regained his grasp on reality and he looked back at the polaroid that laid on the ground.

His jaw clenched with anger and a certain emptiness filled his eyes… Almost as if the Soldat had made a reappearance in him. Raged coursed through his veins and he growled like an animal. Slipping the photo back into the album, he strided to where the polaroid laid and picked it up. He glared at it for the last time and then crumpled it in his hand, the sound of it being destroyed was like music to his ear.

He squeezes, and squeezes, and squeezes until he can’t, until the rage inside him subsides. He loosened his grip and stared at the now destroyed photo. His faint reflection stared back at him and he couldn’t bring himself to feel a bit of remorse.

You’re his, and he’s yours. He’s your saviour, your salvatore.

Your sundress still hugged your body even though dusk had settled in the sky. It had ridden up to your thighs as you laid back on the couch. The fountain pen your ex-boyfriend had gifted you twiddled between your fingers. The poor posh cap of the pen fell in between one of the cushions, lost in a cluster of dust bunnies and one dollar bills.

You stared at the blank page of the overly exorbitant Ciak Notebook your fellow classmates and colleagues would rave on and on about. You sighed before finally writing a word. Curvy, looped letters flowed as smooth as water and you felt your jittering nerves slowly calming down. Sighing, you stared at the three letters as they stared back at you, almost taunting you that it wasn’t enough. Gnawing at your dry lips, you slowly began to feel proud of yourself.

The

It wasn’t much, but it was something. The guilt of not knowing what to write next ate at you. Would you have to throw the page away if your mind chose to restart? Or would you have to force yourself to continue the sentence? You looked away as you thought about what to do, laying your eyes on a nasty print. Dirt formed in the shape of a footstep tainted the floors of the kitchen and you sighed, realizing it was from Bucky. Oh, James…

The thought of him licked at your mind, like a searing flame of temptation. You reminisced about him, and those piercing eyes, as well as his captivating chuckle and elusive aura. Your heart hurted as you thought about how his eyes held a certain sadness to them. You saw the broken soldier beneath his veneers and he was tired, tired of a certain longing that never seemed to go away. You chuckled, shaking your head as you called yourself crazy for thinking about his eyes. Oh… maybe, maybe that's it!

The strange man’s sapphire eyes are piercing. The gaze they come with almost hurts, and she’s the first thing he lays his eyes on. Soft cheery ones that are the brightest things in the world are met with sad, worn down ones. He’s longing for something new, something that would finally fill the empty void that many people eroded away at, the hole in his heart growing deeper and deeper.

You smiled to yourself as soon as you added the period, finishing the last sentence. You wondered whether or not you should continue or stop right where you had left off. You just couldn’t let that sudden, amazing burst of muse and inspiration go, right? You grabbed your glass of white wine and downed it like a single mom after a long day of worries, ready to write your little heart away.

The pen glided across numerous pages, not daring to stop at all. Your eyebrows were furrowed with concentration, the only sounds that you could hear was people talking outside and your breathing. The shrill of your obnoxious doorbell pierced through the calmness that you revelled in for the past thirty minutes. You ignored it, picking up from where you had left off but the rapid knocking on your door made you bite your tongue with shame.

Hurryingly, you rushed to the door and swung it open, looking down to see one of Mrs. Carter’s grandchildren. You couldn’t recall her name, but she was adorable. “The man w- with the long hair, he broke his window!” She exclaimed, before running off to play with her equally small friends. You furrowed your eyebrows at the absurdity, but then what she said had finally dawned on you. You never ran faster in your life, not even in your physical education classes in high school that you envied with every fiber in your body.

Thick, jagged shards of glass littered the concrete, and you were careful to avoid them. “Bucky?” You called out, peering through the window that he had destroyed. Nowhere to be found. You moved to his door and rang the doorbell more time than you could count on your fingers. A certain dread settled in the pit of your stomach, and you thought about the worst. You spun around as you tried to find some place that he would keep a spare key.

Your best bet? Underneath the ‘welcome’ rug that you stood on.

You pulled a rusted key out from under it and you unlocked the door with no hassle. “Doll?” Bucky called out, voice weak and quiet. He was hunched over, tears streaking down his face as he struggled to come down from his severe panic attacks. One came after the other, insecurities and memories tumbling down onto him and he was trapped in a ruthless circle of repetition.

You grabbed his flesh hand, wincing at how it was slightly damn from his tear. Gently, you placed his hand on his heart and soothingly reached up to caress his cheek. “Buck, you gotta breathe with me, okay? Do the same as me.” You instructed, his eyes flashing to you as you knelt down on the floor with him. You slowled your breathing down for him to match, and he followed eventually.

“That’s it… There you go…” You praised, moving your hand from his face to his soft hair, threading your fingers through his locks gently. You reached up and lightly kissed his sheen-covered forehead, soft lips almost smoothing out his splintered edges. You didn’t pull away, keeping Bucky in your arms like he was going to be stolen away from you. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, swallowing your smaller frame into his.

His tears relented but his sobs stayed, deciding that maybe they were going to spend a night or two. You refused to shush him, knowing that letting him cry everything out could make it better. His tears soaked into your skin, leaving it damp. Your eyes scanned the house, a gasp falling from your lips as you looked at the aftermath of a storm.

The walls were dented in and scratched up — the once pristine paint was ruined completely. A few photo frames were broken and a poor vase was shattered into pieces that could easily pierce through anyone’s skin; even a super soldier’s. You just knew another war had taken place in his home — one between him and his emotions. You threaded your fingers through his hair, occasionally stopping to gently untangle some slightly stubborn knots.

He sighed under your touch and smiled as his breathing returned to normal. His heart still beat harshly but it wasn’t as bad as before. You took notice too, realizing that you didn’t feel his heart beating against your chest. You were proud of him, proud that he managed to fight the demons that probably had visited him before.

You guided him to his couch that was covered in pillow fluff and some shards of glass. You tried to find him a cleared out spot to sit on but you failed. You frowned and Bucky had to resist himself from the greatest temptation of kissing you. “Shit.” You cursed, gnawing on your bottom lip. Bucky was practically vibrating as he fought for self control, and he didn’t know whether to thank the Gods or not when you stopped.

You laced your fingers with his and you smiled at the size difference. “Oh! Your bed!” You exclaimed adorably before spotting his stairs. You darted up them and hauled Bucky behind — even though he’s 260 lbs and a hundred times stronger than you. You tried to recall where his room was, but the hazy memories from that night just weren’t helping you out.

Your hand slipped from his but you hung onto his pinky finger. You gnawed at your bottom lip and tried to recall whether it was the room on your left or your right. “Left, doll.” He husked quietly, his voice no more than a whisper. It was still hoarse from the crying, but it was nothing less. “Do you often have these…?” You asked him, struggling to find the word.

“Panic attacks? Sometimes, but they’re slowly getting better.” He spoke, sitting on the bed. Unlike any normal human, he wasn’t tired from his panic attack. No amount of exhaustion hauled over him. “You’re not tired?” You asked in curiosity, taking in how messy his room was. You couldn’t blame him, though. It wasn’t like your room was any better.

“No… Serum, makes everything, y’know…” He explained, struggling with his words. “Oh, right.” You smiled at him, noticing a few small cuts on his flesh hand. “You’re hurt!” You exclaimed, a gasp leaving your mouth. Bucky didn’t even notice his injuries until you pointed them out. Why would he when you’re right in front of him? “Oh… It’s nothing, doll, don’t worry.” He reassured, before ignoring the injuries.

“I don’t think so…” You countered, wanting to help him so badly. “Uh, if you want, you can help dress them for me? Only if you want to, of course! Not going to force you or anything…” He rambled, cursing himself for sounding like a complete nerve-wrecked buffoon. “Yes please, I hate seeing you — or anyone, for a matter of fact — hurt.” You smiled at him before spinning in a circle, trying to find a first aid kit.

“You see that door there? It’s in there, bottom cabinet.” He explained again, and you let out an “oh.” You walked into the bathroom and Bucky let out an exhale of air that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Found it!” You cheered. But then you grimaced. Dried blood and dirt was smeared across the white plastic of the first aid box. “Uh, that’s from past missions, before I retired.” He clarified quickly. “Oh you retired?” You asked in shock, walking back to him.

“Yeah… It’s for the best anyways.” He sheepishly replied. “May I ask why?” You questioned, popping open the box. Bucky nodded and pointed at the bandages and wipes. You picked them up and he cleared his throat. “Well, I think it’s best for everyone. Sam… I love him, but I don’t want him to be burdened by my, you know…” He clicked his tongue and pointed at his head.

“And plus, he’s Captain America, he’s capable of doing everything on his own. As for the other Avengers? Well, they’re far stronger than me, so I think they’re fine. I still keep in touch with them, but I’m not close to them.” He sighed deeply. You didn’t even start cleaning his wounds because you were too caught up in listening to Bucky speak. Your features softened at his sad tone and words.

Sympathy took over you and you hated how that was what Bucky thought of himself. “Even though Shuri took out all the stuff, I’m still not ready to go back into daily wars. I also think I deserve a break, ‘m tired of all that violence.” He sighed deeply, before grabbing the pack of wipes that you struggled to open. “But if they ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He added quickly, making you give him a sad smile. He tore the aluminum open for you and you thanked him.

“Before you ask, yes, I’ve tried therapy. Sam referenced me, but it just didn’t work. I guess… I guess I’m just rotten work…” He mumbled at the end, even though you heard him loud and clear. “What!? No! You, Sir, are the farthest thing from rotten work. You- you’re a survivor! You’re strong, you’re a sweetheart, you fight for this world and you deserve nothing less than happiness and everything good in the world!” You exclaimed, taking both yourself and Bucky by surprise.

“Why do you tell yourself these things, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, cleaning up his cuts. He didn’t wince at all, but you pay no mind to that. “I… Ever since I was captured by HYDRA, that’s all I’ve ever known. I’ve thought of myself as a monster, a vile human being, a machine, the list goes on and on.” He admitted and your heart broke even more.

“They used to refer to me as ‘it,’ not a human, not a victim, not even by ‘Soldat’ and that just stuck with me.” He gulped through tears and you knew it was a sensitive subject. “Maybe you could try therapy once you’re ready? I know it may seem scary facing everything, but it’ll be worth it. You can take my advice with a grain of salt or not, but you need to know that you’re the complete opposite of any negative thing your mind comes up with. Also, fuck HYDRA.” You said with a smile on your face.

Bucky chuckled and then handed you the roll of gauze that was in his hand. “Thank you.” You whispered under your breath, before scrunching your face up in concentration. Even though you had no damn idea as to what you were doing, you were determined to bandage his wounds. Bucky’s eyes raked up and down your face and he didn’t even care if you were wrapping his wounds incorrectly.

“Uh… I know this may sound forward- but do you want to go on a second date?” Bucky asked after a few beats of silence. You choked on your spit and cursed under your breath. After a few moments, you finally calmed down. “D- date?” You questioned incredulously. “I believe that’s what I said, doll.” Bucky chuckled lightheartedly. A little “oh,” escaped your lips and you began to gnaw on your lip. Yes… yes you do have feelings for Bucky — but this is so wrong. You only left he-who-shall-not-be-named a few months ago…

But isn’t it good that you’re moving on? Your inner monologue conflicted with your entire being and Bucky can’t help but to be concerned. “Everything okay?” He asked, playing with the loose ends of the gauze. “I… Can I be honest with you, Mr. Barnes?” You asked him, wringing your hands together nervously. “Of course, doll, and it’s Bucky.” He smiled.

“Well… A few months ago I got out of a toxic relationship, and I’m still healing from it. He really destroyed me, and so did the break up. I’m ready, but I’m also not ready, if that makes sense. Uhm… Is it fine if we just take it slow? Or if you can give me some time?” You shyly toks. Bucky’s heart clenched and he slowly began to nod his head. “Of course, doll. Whatever you need you can ask me.” He reassured you, feeling the urge to caress your face.

“Thank you so much, Bucky!” You gleamed delightfully. Bucky looked at you as though you hung the stars. “No need to thank me, doll. I’m just gonna be there for you every step of the way.” He shook his head in a sort of reassuring manner. Your eyes fell to your hands and Bucky worked on fixing your bandages.

“Do… Do you think we’re moving too fast?” You asked him after a few silent pauses. “I’m not sure… I think we’re moving at the right pace.” He affirmed, flopping back into his bed. You stood up and towered over him for the first and only time ever. “I mean- I barely even know anything about you! Aside from the stuff we learned in history class and any information about you before 2016 — please don’t ask. I literally kissed you, and we only met a few days before I think? I’ve only ever been in one actually serious relationship so I wouldn’t know but-” You rambled like a mad man before Bucky cut you off by grabbing onto your hand.

“Doll, you’re rambling.” He bluntly told you. “Sorry… It’s just a habit of mine.” You apologized sheepishly, growing shy and embarrassed under his almost painful stare. “I guess you may think you’re moving fast because of your last relationship. Didn’t you take it slow, doll?” He asked you, making you purse your lips. “Yes…” You answered after some momentary hesitation. “And didn’t you say it was toxic?” He questioned you, making you slowly nod your head.

“Did you want to move slowly?” He inquired after giving you a sad smile. “Well, not really. I mean- we dated for around four years and every time I’d try to move forward in the relationship he’d always tell me that we have all the time in the world.” You explained, skipping over some details because you were sure that Bucky didn’t need to know about how your boyfriend was in his best friend’s guts.

“Do you want to move at a decent pace at least?” He asked you, and suddenly you let out a hearty sigh. “I do, I really do, Bucky. But I just don’t know what a ‘decent pace’ is! Or- or how to even be in an actually decent relationship!” You cried out in hysterics. “That’s okay! I’ll teach you, don’t worry.” He reassured you, and then you realized how worked up you were.

“Really?” You asked in shock, dealing as though you were in some sort of cheesy romcom. “Mhm! Trust me, I’ve been alive for a while, so I know quite a lot.” He said with a smile. Your face mirrored his and you felt relaxed in the presence of Bucky. For now. “Uh- Thank you so much, Bucky! You’re the best-” You thanked him cheerfully, before cutting yourself off as you noticed the time.

Bucky frowned when you let out a disappointing sigh. “Is everything okay? ‘Cause I was really enjoying all that praise.” He joked around, making you giggle. “Uh yeah- I just realized that I have a job interview in an hour and should probably go get ready.” You groaned loudly, earning a snort from Bucky. “Talk to you soon?” You asked him. “Of course, doll.” He nodded his head in a sort of Jay Gatsby way and you felt tingles across your spine.

“Bye!” You said as you pressed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s cheek. You turned and left his room, leaving Bucky a blushing fool. His hand came up to touch where you kissed him and he sighed sweetly. Bucky kept his hand there and flopped back onto his bed like a teenage girl who held a five second conversation with her crush. “Oh, doll.”

You bit your lip to hold in a childish squeal. You wanted to kiss Bucky’s cheek ever since you met him, and you finally did. But unfortunately, through the euphoric feeling that was running through your body you still felt bad. There was no job application — god, you couldn’t even find it in you to print a new resumé. You lied to James Buchanan Barnes and got away with it like you were some sort of spy. But you couldn’t just tell him what you were going to do.

No way. You skipped all the ten steps to your home and couldn’t stop smiling. Is this what it’s like to be in a romcom? If it was, then you were ready to be in one for the rest of your life. You shut the door behind you and made your way up to your bedroom. Your steps echoed behind you and you bit your lip to control your smile.

You unlocked the door to your room and sat at your dresser with a sort of heaviness weighing you down. You had procrastinated it for so long, but it was time. You opened up the bottom drawer and took out the old cigar box Steve had given you to store your stories in. Your smile faltered at the memory that used to bring you so much joy. You unlatched the box and sighed deeply at the sight of Steve’s belongings.

A few polaroids of the two of you, a watch of his, a compass with your picture, a locket with his grin plastered on it, a promise ring- so many memories. Finally, it was time to let go of him. But were you ready? Were you really ready to say goodbye to the man that taught you about love? How does one say goodbye to a man like Steve Rogers? But he told you, there’s no saying goodbye to him.

Not yet, at least.

[morganaspendragonss]

if every breath is sacred

When Carlos wakes up, flames and smoke are filling the room, but TK is nowhere to be seen. He knows the protocols for being in a fire: sit tight, stay low to the ground, wait for help to arrive. But, it’s TK. Protocols have always gone straight out of the window when it comes to TK. So, Carlos—

Well, Carlos does probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his  life.

He grabs two t-shirts from a drawer, holds one over his mouth and nose, and plunges into the inferno.

ao3 | 2.1k | 2.12 spec

The air in their bedroom is sour with a rage Carlos knows isn’t directed at him, yet he can’t help but feel guilty for it anyway. TK is curled up on his side of the bed, back to Carlos, his arms wrapped tightly around himself and his breaths far too carefully even for him to be asleep.

Carlos wants to call him out on it, but he doesn’t want to make things worse than they already are.

He knows he’s not the one TK’s mad at - they’ve had that conversation already - and Carlos is angry too. Mainly at Owen for being so stupid, but also a little bit at his dad even though he knows he was just doing his job. It’s more that they put him in the impossible situation of having to explain to his boyfriend that his father was arrested than anything else; seeing TK’s face fall at the news felt like one of the worst moments of Carlos’s life.

They’ll have to talk about this eventually - tomorrow, hopefully - but, right now, it’s better to just let TK’s anger run its course. 

Which is why Carlos bites his tongue when TK suddenly throws the sheets back and climbs out of bed, leaving the room with only a muttered comment about getting a drink. He sighs, listening to TK’s heavier-than-usual footsteps, relieved when he hears the quiet click of the kettle as opposed to the coffee machine. At least now there’s a chance of TK coming back to bed and getting some sleep, albeit a small one.

Carlos throws his arm over his eyes as the sounds quiet. He’s exhausted and, much as he wants to stay up for TK, he can’t resist the pull of sleep. So he lets himself drift off, praying that things will be easier in the morning.

*

He wakes to the scent of smoke invading his nostrils, harsh coughs already ripping from his throat even as he blinks the remains of sleep away. Carlos frowns, his brain taking a second to register the dim orange glow under the bedroom door for what it is.

Fire.

His eyes widen and he turns to warn TK -

But, TK’s not there. 

The bathroom light isn’t on, either, which means… Which means, he never made it back to bed.

Which means he’s still downstairs.

Carlos jumps out of bed and races to the door, yanking it open, only to come to a sudden halt as flames jump up at him from the stairs. The smoke is thick, but he can see enough to tell that the ground floor has already been overwhelmed by the fire, and that it probably won’t be long until it makes its way up here. His heart is threatening to pound out of his chest with fear and worry, but he forces himself to concentrate, to slip into first responder mode; panicking won’t help TK, nor will it get them out of this mess.

Returning into the bedroom, he snatches his phone from the bedside table and dials, sliding to the floor as more and more smoke invades the room.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“My house, it’s on fire. My boyfriend and I are trapped inside, but I don’t know where he is. He went downstairs to get a drink and I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, there was fire everywhere and he still wasn’t back.”

“Could you give me your address, sir?”

Carlos rattles off his details, suppressing the tickle in his throat for as long as he can before he’s overwhelmed by coughing again. He can hear the dispatcher on the other end saying something, but he can’t make out what.

When the coughs die out, he takes heaving breaths of air, already in short supply. The dispatcher is still talking, so Carlos focuses.

“-ir? Sir, are you there?”

“I’m here,” he gasps eventually, closing his eyes.

“Good, help is on the way. For the time being, is there anywhere you can go to escape from the smoke?”

Carlos shakes his head, before remembering that the action is redundant. “No. There’s nowhere.”

“Alright, just hang tight. Fire and medical should be with you in around six minutes.”

Six minutes.

Too long.

Carlos glances back to the door, his mind going to TK and how long he must have been in the flames and smoke for. A chill goes through him as he realises he doesn’t even know, and he just... He needs to make sure he’s okay.

He may be a cop, and not a firefighter, but Carlos knows the protocols for being in a fire. Sit tight, stay low to the ground, wait for help to arrive. But, it’s TK. Protocols have always gone straight out of the window when it comes to TK. So, Carlos—

Well, Carlos does probably the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his entire life.

He grabs two t-shirts from a drawer, holds one over his mouth and nose, and plunges into the inferno.

*

Flames lick at his exposed skin and thick, black smoke clogs his lungs, the thin cloth of the t-shirt doing next to nothing to halt its path. His eyes are burning, vision obscured with how much they’re watering, but Carlos pushes on, squinting through the haze to search for any sign of his boyfriend.

Navigating his house is difficult, everything seeming alien in this strange half-light, but he manages, and eventually he stumbles - almost literally - over a crumpled figure against the far wall.

“TK!” he cries, or tries to. It comes out hoarse, and quieter than he intended, so Carlos clears his throat and tries again and again and again until he drops down on his knees next to TK. 

“TK,” he says again, shaking his shoulder. TK’s eyes are closed, but they flutter when Carlos shakes him harder. “Come on, baby, open your eyes.”

TK must listen to him, because, slowly, his eyes blink open, widening as he takes in the scene around them. Carlos presses the second t-shirt into his hands and he nods in understanding, raising it to his mouth.

“Help is coming,” Carlos says, mouth close to TK’s ear. “Just a couple more minutes.”

TK nods again and lowers the shirt. He opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t get a sound out before a round of coughing comes over him, causing him to fold in on himself. It’s loud enough that TK misses the cracking sound coming from right above his head, the thin trickle of dust raining down on them.

TK misses it, but Carlos doesn’t.

His boyfriend’s name tears out of him, and he just has time to shove TK as hard as he can before the ceiling comes crashing down.

Carlos chokes, suddenly finding it even harder to breathe, as if it wasn’t near impossible before. He’s pinned, the only movement he has left in his right hand. If he strains, he can just about see TK, who’s staring at him with a horrified expression. Carlos attempts a smile, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t work.

His lungs spasm as he tries and fails to take a breath, his entire body burning with the weight crushing him. His vision is dimming, and he knows it’s likely only seconds before he loses consciousness—and, judging by TK’s slow blinks, the same is true for him.

Carlos prays that whichever station was dispatched gets to them soon, but if this is the end - and he really, really wants it not to be - then he can only think to be grateful that they’re in it together. Carefully, he inches his hand forward, stretching his fingers out until they meet TK’s, and he grips on with all the strength he has left in his body.

“I love you,” he chokes out. He doesn’t know if TK hears him, but he knows that he understands by the way his fingers close around Carlos’s.

TK’s lips move, the roaring flames and the pounding of his own heart making it impossible for Carlos to hear him; still, he knows. It’s a comfort, and he gives TK’s hand one last squeeze before all the energy leaves him and his eyes drift shut.

A flash of blue lights up the room behind Carlos’s closed eyelids, but he doesn’t get a chance to figure out what it means before the darkness swallows him whole.

*

TK doesn’t know how he got here. 

He comes back to awareness slowly, a sudden panic constricting his already tight chest as he stares up at the night sky, his mind trying desperately to work out what’s going on. The last thing he remembers, he was in their front room, surrounded by fire, and Carlos—

Carlos.

TK gasps, his lungs on fire, his back arching and his fingers clawing at what he now realises is a gurney - whether he’s fighting for air or to get to Carlos, he doesn’t know.

Either way, he’s quickly pushed back down and an oxygen mask is pressed against his face.

“TK, I need you to calm down,” a familiar voice - Tommy’s - says. 

“Carlos -”

“He’s in good hands, I promise you,” she cuts in, an evasion tactic if TK’s ever heard one. “You’re my priority right now; just focus on breathing for me, alright?”

TK wants to fight, but he still doesn’t have any strength in him, and he’s powerless to do anything as he’s lifted into the ambulance and taken away.

*

He hates hospitals. After the kidnapping, after Grace and Judd, TK had hopes not to have to enter one again for a while. 

He should have known that was just wishful thinking.

This is the worst one, he thinks. He’s not allowed to leave his bed for another day at least, the burns he’d suffered are superficial, but he’d inhaled a lot of smoke and the doctors want to make sure his O2 levels are stable before letting him go.

That would be unbearable enough, but it’s made worse by the fact that he can’t see Carlos. All he’s been told is that Carlos’s injuries were far worse than his own and that he’s been put on a ventilator because his body is too damaged. A horrible guilt wells in TK’s gut at that knowledge - it’s his fault Carlos isn’t awake right now. He knows Carlos saved him when the ceiling came down, and he wishes he hadn’t; he really didn’t need to know what being on the other side of a coma is like.

A quiet knock on the doorframe reaches his ears and he looks up, expecting it to be his dad or one of the team. Instead, he’s surprised to see Carlos’s mom standing there, her eyes red, and a terrifying coldness floods his body.

“Mrs Reyes,” he says, voice trembling. “Is everything okay? Carlos, is he -”

“He’s okay,” she replies, giving him a wobbly smile as she walks towards him. “Or, there’s been no change, which the doctors tell us is a good thing. Gabriel is with him, but I wanted to come and check up on you.”

TK swallows guiltily, wincing slightly at the lingering soreness in his throat. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Ah. I see Carlitos didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“I raised four children, TK,” she says, a hint of a real smile on her lips. “I know when someone is lying to me.”

TK flushes and looks down at the bedsheets, picking at them idly. “You’re right. I’m not okay, but I don’t think I will be until he wakes up.”

“You care for him a lot.”

“With all my heart.”

She nods and pats his hand, the simple, yet comforting, touch breaking something in TK. His eyes fill with tears and he lets his head fall back on the pillow as his chest heaves with sobbing. It irritates his throat, but he doesn’t care, not when there’s a greater pain that reaches right down to his very soul. 

Mrs Reyes holds him against her without hesitation, not complaining even though his cries must be making a mess of her shirt.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, stroking his hair in a way that makes TK yearn for a mother he never really had. “Everything will be okay. My Carlitos is a fighter, and I know that he is doing everything he can right now to get back to us. To you.”

TK sniffles, and hangs onto her words with everything he has.

Four days later, Carlos’s eyes open and, for the first time since the fire, TK think he can finally breathe again.

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART XI - Ok, so Eris finds out about Jesminda and confronts Lucien about it. He says some pretty not nice things to his younger brother (he gets pretty mean), things couldn’t stay great between them forever. Thanks for reading!!!

oooooh boy we’re getting into it now

Prince of Ashes. Part XI.

masterlist.

Eris stumbled when someone slammed a large hand onto his shoulder, reaching for the knife at his side as he whirled on whoever it was. 

“Easy, brother,” rumbled Owain, his red hair a mess and his brown eyes on the snake-head knife hilt in Eris’s hand. Eris had to admit that he’d gotten very used to no one approaching him, let alone having someone lay a hand on him, especially if he wasn't expecting it.

Eris also figured it wouldn’t be good for anyone if he accidentally killed a new servant, and that perhaps his first instinct shouldn’t be to reach for his weapon. Eris returned the dagger to its place on the sheath at his side. “I didn't know it was you.” Owain looked troubled as he opened his mouth to speak, closing it and opening it once more as his eyes looked at anything but his oldest brother.

This sort of behaviour from Owain was unexpected, and Eris’s first thought was that something had happened to their mother. “What’s happened,” Eris demanded. The dominance in his tone suggesting it was best to just spit it out.

“Lucien,” was Owain’s response.

That one word had Eris freezing. “What’s happened,” he repeated, voice low.

“I would have just said — I would have spoken to him, but… He doesn’t,” Owain ran a hand through his hair, “He might listen to you.” Owain was usually stoic, composed. Eris was panicking slightly to see that he looked worried.

“Owain,” Eris snapped, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, yes, alright, sorry,” Owain lifted his chin just slightly, he was taller than Eris by a lot, but he was looking Eris straight in the eyes. “I saw Lucien in Calchas with a female.”

Eris paused, blinking once before he grinned. “I don’t really see the problem.”

Owain licked his lips, “Right, no, it wouldn’t be, not normally.” 

Eris’s grin shifted, turned more into a bare of teeth, “Then why are you bothering me with this.” Eris had countless things to do, a territory to run, prisoners to deal with. He didn’t have time for whatever this was.

“The female is a lesser faerie, Eris,” there was a hint of desperation in his usually calm tone. “And he’s with her … constantly. You know how father feels about this sort of thing. If it was one time, I wouldn’t have bothered coming to you,” he awkwardly waved one of his large hands, “If someone loyal to father had seen him…” Owain trailed off. Owain hadn’t needed to finish his sentence, Eris knew very well what Beron would do if his youngest son was with a lesser faerie.

Cato’s warning from nearly two decades ago rang clear in his head — Beron wanted to make Lucien’s life as miserable as possible. Eris moved closer to Owain, his hand gripping his younger brother’s thick arm, “What do you know?”

Owain shook his head, “Not much.”

“Tell me everything.” Eris would rather know what little Owain had discovered than nothing at all. 

“She’s a farm girl, works in the orchards with her family, can’t be older than three decades.”

Owain sounded like he was giving Eris a report, “Priam and Maddox have seen them as well, usually out in the fields, by the rivers, they don’t go to the city often, but knowing this court, they go enough that commoners have noticed.”

“What are the rumours?”

“Amongst the High Fae? Just gossip. No different than what they say about the rest of us.” There were always rumours surrounding the Vanserras. “I’m just,” Owain’s cheeks turned red as he mumbled, “Worried, I suppose.”

Eris scanned Owain’s face for any signs of deception. He seemed sincere, but Eris wasn’t entirely shocked, Owain wasn’t horrible. “I’ll talk to him,” Eris assured his younger brother, “But this stays between us.”

Owain nodded once, embers in his brown eyes, “Of course.” Eris gave Owain what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but Owain’s hand snapped up, grabbing Eris by the wrist.

“You can… You can trust me, Eris,” he said, voice low, auburn brows furrowed. “I don’t want Lucien dead anymore than you do.” Eris didn’t get a chance to respond as Owain let go of him, winnowing away with a loud crack, leaving Eris alone in the otherwise empty hallway. Eris would think on this later, about possibly trusting Owain. Owain had always been closer to Cato, closer to Maddox, but he knew they’d all be stronger together if they could all stop fighting amongst themselves.

With a shake of his head, throwing his shoulders back, Eris walked down the hall, making his way to Lucien’s room. Eris couldn’t understand where in the hells he went wrong. He’d spent decades telling Lucien not to make any attachments, not to do anything that would draw any unwanted attention, not to do anything that would anger their father. Not their father. Eris was certain if Lucien knew the truth he wouldn’t refer to Beron as such.

Eris growled just thinking about the vow he’d made to his mother nearly thirty years ago. He bounded up a flight of stairs, flames flaring in the sconces on the walls. He’d been in such a rush that he almost ran past Lucien’s bedroom door, backtracking with an annoyed snarl. He still hadn’t decided what exactly he was going to tell his youngest brother, but he lifted his fist, banging a little too loudly on the dark wood. Once Eris heard the muffled “come in,” he shoved open the door.

Lucien was lounging on his bed, shoes off, the laces of his shirt loose. He was holding a book, one that Eris had read before. “Fallon’s Fables” was painted in an elegant, gold script on the cover. It was more of a story book than an actual tome for educating oneself. It had been Eris’s favourite when he’d been young, he’d gifted his to Rufus decades ago and he wondered whether the book Lucien had in his hands was the same one.

Lucien grinned up at him, his eyes bright. “I thought you were Rufus.”

Eris slammed the door shut, locking it, “I need to talk to you.”

“Hello to you as well,” Lucien’s grin faltered just slightly, and Eris briefly thought that he should have greeted his youngest brother, but he’d already started speaking.

“Lucien, tell me right now it’s not true.” Eris was trying to keep calm, he was trying not to yell, he was trying not to get angry. He would give Lucien a chance to explain himself.

Lucien closed his book, laughed a little nervously. “Tell you what?” He questioned.

Eris’s nostrils flared. The unmistakable scent of his little brother was obvious. But among the familiar citrus, weaving in and out of that scent, was apple blossoms. Eris groaned, “Lucien, what the fuck are you thinking?”

“You’re starting to worry me a bit, you know?”

Eris could have set the room on fire. “You don’t worry about me,” Eris shook his head, “Stick to worrying about yourself.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucien was wary now, but his eyes were still bright. “Is this one of your riddles?”

“Yes,” Eris stepped closer to the bed, a mocking smile on his face. “I’m an idiot who chooses to ignore my older brother’s good advice.”

“Easy,” Lucien smiled, just like he’d done when he was younger and he’d found the answer to any of Eris’s riddles, “Rufus Vanserra.”

“Rufus isn't the one parading around Calchas with a lesser faerie,” Eris crooned.

Lucien’s face dropped, his smile gone, Eris could practically see Lucien trying to come up with some lie. He noticed when Lucien decided to just tell the truth, arms crossed defensively in front of his chest, jaw set. “So?”

“So?” Eris wanted to laugh, “That’s all you have to say?” Eris was going to light the whole room on fire if he didn’t get a handle on his anger.

Lucien looked up at Eris, flames in his eyes, “I don’t know why it matters, most of what I do doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it does,” Eris spat. He had to remind himself to take deep, calming breaths. “Find another female to fuck.” Eris found he was absolutely horrendous at this. Even Eris thought that was crue, too cruel. He should have gone straight to their mother and asked her to deal with whatever the hells this was.

Lucien’s face unexpectedly softened, “I love her, Eris.”

Eris threw his hands in the air in defeat, “You’re not supposed to love things in this cauldron-forsaken court,” Eris was getting angrier by the second. “This court is cruel and brutal, there is no place for love in it.” It was a lesson all of them had learned, a lesson that Beron had taught them, a rule each of them tried to follow. In Autumn, a rule like that kept you alive. 

“You sound just like father.”

Eris flinched, just slightly, Lucien probably hadn’t even noticed. Eris would have rather Lucien stabbed him then tell him something like that. But he would stand his ground, “End it.”

“I’m not going to,” Lucien lifted his chin, his jaw set. Had Lucien always been this stubborn?

“And I’m not going to say it again,” Eris growled, “End it.”

“What about you, then?” Lucien snarled, eyes flaring. “You and all your lovers? Everyone knows you’ve had countless.”

Eris felt his rage mounting as he waved a hand dismissively, trying to act as unbothered as possible. “They meant nothing.”

Eris felt the tips of his ears heat as Lucien asked, “What about Micah?”

“I didn’t tell you that so you could throw it in my face.” Eris snarled back, his voice low. Eris was regretting having trusted Lucien and Rufus with it now, even if they both hadn’t seemed to care when he’d mentioned that Micah had been his lover.

“I’m not throwing it in your face,” Lucien shook his head, he looked hurt that Eris would consider it. “I just don’t think you have any right to sit there and lecture me about forbidden love.”

“I didn’t love him.”

Lucien didn’t look like he believed him for a moment. “Honestly?” 

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, ran his fingers through his hair, “Honestly.”

“Cauldron, that’s bullshit and you know it,” Lucien raised his brows.

“Cauldron fucking boil me, Lucien, I was young and reckless once, too,” Eris started, probably as close to an admission of the love he’d had for Micah as anyone would get, “But I know better now.” Eris’s relationships never lasted, either because of him or because he ended them before they got too serious, before he got too invested. Micah had been one of his only exceptions, and even that had ended. Eris shook his head, “End it and court a female father will approve of.”

“Yes, because all you do is court lovely females father would approve of?” Eris knew he was being a ridiculous hypocrite, but this was different. Eris was the heir, and his father didn’t pay much attention to anyone he took to bed, and Eris had had a whole lot of practice making sure his father only knew about the females he’d wanted Beron to know about. No matter how often Eris messed up, Eris figured his father probably wasn’t going to kill him - he couldn’t afford to, not anymore.

Eris was a damn good courtier and a fantatsic fucking commander, his father would have to be an imbecile to kill him off. But Lucien wasn’t important, not to Beron. He was young and worthless. Lucien was the runt of the litter. “This isn’t about me,” Eris snapped, finally having reached the end of his rope. “This is about you.”

Lucien jumped to his feet, throwing the book from his hands onto his bed, “You don’t get to do that,” he shouted.

Eris growled, opening his mouth to speak, but Lucien wasn’t finished. “You’ve been gone for over a year, you don’t get to come back when it suits you and tell me how to live my life!” Eris stiffened, watching as Lucien waved a hand in his direction. Embers fell to the floor from Lucien’s fingers. “Don’t act like you care, Eris, when it’s obviously not the case.”

It was true that Eris hadn’t been to The Forest House in quite some time, but he hadn’t thought Lucien would be so angry at him for it, that Lucien would accuse him of not caring. Eris wanted to stomp his foot like some spoiled child, say Lucien was being unfair, that he was acting like a youngling. “Just think of the mess I’ll have to clean up when this goes wrong,” Eris snarled. “Think for one moment and you’ll see nothing good can come of this ridiculous dalliance.”

Eris knew he’d been too harsh when Lucien’s face hardened.“Get out,” Lucien spat, a strange golden glow to his eyes.

Eris scowled. “Fine then, don’t fucking listen,” he moved to the door. “See if I’ll fucking help if you get caught.”

“I don’t need your fucking help,” Lucien sneered. “I’ve lived my whole life without your help.” Eris had his hand on the doorknob, frozen on the spot, as he gasped out a choked laugh.

Turning to face Lucien, brows raised, lip curled, Eris cocked his head to the side — the words he spoke quiet. “Have you?”

Lucien’s expression changed, almost imperceptibly, almost like he regretted having said that, but he stood his ground. “Get out, Eris.”

Eris should have stayed, should have apologized, but he had never been very good at admitting when he’d been wrong. With one last shake of his head, Eris threw open the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Eris heard something shatter in Lucien’s room, he heard Lucien’s muffled shout, but he kept walking. Eris knew there were flames in his eyes, flames trailing behind him as he walked towards his study with fast steps. He could practically hear his mother’s voice from when he’d been young, urging him to tame his magic. The flames should not control you, she’d tell him, you must be the one to control them.

Eris had struggled with his magic as a child, tutors thought him too dangerous to teach, and his mother had taught him to control it when even Beron hadn’t been able to. Eris was having trouble keeping his magic controlled now, though. The temperature around him raised, the air holding some of that choking feel that his father’s magic so often had. Eris really was becoming just like Beron.

Eris slammed the door to his study open with his shoulder. The fireplace flared to life as he entered, flames wild. Eris needed to be careful, or he’d set all his books on fire. Eris took a deep breath, “I’m in control,” he muttered. “I’m in control.” He clenched his fists, the flames disappearing, “I’m in control.” Eris took another deep breath, picturing dying embers in his mind. He was going to speak to his mother, she would be able to help him.

Lucien had always listened to him and Eris didn’t know what he was going to do now that he hadn’t. Perhaps Eris would damn the consequences and drain his father’s stash of good cognac. Perhaps Eris would go to the streets of Calchas in search of some company. Or, Perhaps Eris would simply stay at the Forest House and pray this did not end badly.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳34

Pairing: Zuko x Fem. OC (Ying Yue Jiang)

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with future smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 16100+

Notes: It’s finally up! Sorry it took me so long to edit, I don’t know why, but it kept lagging. I’m probably gonna log on tmw and re-edit because things just kept freezing on here. But take care everyone, and I hope you like it~!

Masterlist ︳33 ︳ 35 [M]

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

“Lacuna”

(Latin/n.) A blank space, a missing part.

~ Countess Mai ~

           Fucking Ying Yue, that dumb bitc-

           Kissing my teeth disagreeably loud, I could feel the jagged rocks under the thin sole of my shoes, the ground stupidly uneven and uncharted. My breathing came in quick pants, bruises lingering on my arms, thighs burning as we marched up the cliff at a steady pace. The looming trees above provided ample shade and cover, kicking up dust as Azula trailed in front.

           My lips parted, another exhausted breath escaping me as I narrowed my eyes – Azula.

           Her long ponytail swayed side to side like a whip, face void of any expressive emotion, trekking forward with purpose. Her shoulders were squared, not breaking a sweat from the steepness of the hill or the humid air. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve said she was completely fine – but I knew better.

           “Azula,”  I muttered, voice monotoned, barely audible. But the speed at which Azula’s posture tensed proved as evidence that she heard me loud and clear. Still sharp as ever.

           Effortlessly, she looked over her shoulder, raising a perfectly groomed brow at me. “What?” Azula clipped, jaw clenched as she bore over me impatiently. I ignored the sharpness in her tone, a gentle breeze causing the bangs that framed her face to twirl—the way she held her head high, nose in the air.

           Her pace didn’t flatter once, high-tailing at an alarmingly hasty pace. Don’t blame her, the faster we get away from the Kingdom, the better. The scenery around us was different from the last hide-out she brought me to. The landscape seemed thicker, so dense that one could easily scream for help, and not a single soul would hear—a perfect hide-out.

           “Are we close?” I bore, rolling my eyes as my foot nudged a rock. “If I wanted to go on a nature walk, I would’ve gone to work with my sister.”

           The stone tumbled, skipping by Azula’s feet.

           She scoffed under her breath, eyes judging as she twisted her body forward, continuing on her march. “Why, tired? Try not to get your ass kicked by a peasant next time.” Azula expired, and I could hear the way her lips curved upwards at the insult.

           My eyes glowered once more, “Nice scar you have on your hand.”

           Azula stopped.

           The way her hands quaked, balling into fists before letting go-

           My pace eased, cautiously treading behind her before coming to a complete stop, surveying the way she towered above. Despite her back facing me, I could feel it. An aura of malice – down to the twitch in her fingertips.

           I swallowed, seeing the bright pink scar that ran across Azula’s palm. The way the dipping sun managed to seep through the thick bush, seemingly emphasizing how deep the cut ran. It wasn’t a wound for the weak, the skin roughly patched together by her flames. Gross.

           Azula abruptly shook her hand, balling it into a fist as if she could feel my lingering eyes studying the cut in detail.

           “Up ahead,” She spoke, catching my attention, “The cave.”

           I looked beyond Azula, realizing the way the ground evened for a moment, moss-covered rocks looming ahead. The entrance was almost entirely out of sight, only noticeable now that she pointed out the obvious. Trees grew on top of the structure, the dark abyss begging us to enter—the perfect image of a secreted lair.

           My feet itched to move, but I stopped myself, noting that Azula didn’t move a muscle despite us being a few steps away. Fucking- I swore under my breath, flicking my fingers in annoyance.

           “What’s the holdup?” I grumbled, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes once again, but it was her voice. The deadly drop in pitch, the way she hissed.

           “I’ll kill her,” Azula whispered, and I could feel my skin begin to heat up.

           Every word Azula spat was laced with venom, filled with a deep-rooted hatred, a passion and emotion-evoking tone that was all too unfamiliar. Azula, the most put-together being, the only one to keep her composure together, even in the heat of battle. But now-

           The way Azula’s fists trembled, letting her emotions rise to the surface.

           She’s not the same.

           “I’ll make her regret thinking that I’m anything less than perfect.” Azula hissed under her breath, and I grimaced. She didn’t need to say her name for me to know who she was talking about. Her nails dug into the skin of her palm, a bead of scarlet running down her porcelain skin, her wound reopening.

           Soundlessly I watched as the lone droplet of blood dripped onto the dirt below, and just like that – with a quick shake of her hand, Azula walked forward. Her shoulders were relaxed, flicking a strand of hair behind her ears as she casually strolled.

           As if nothing had happened.

           Not a single sound could be heard besides the rustling of the tree branches, Azula’s feet kicking up a trail of dust as she stomped over loose rocks. The only real thing of interest in this forsaken forest was her retreating figure.

           The mouth of the cave eagerly welcomed Azula, the shadows beginning to swallow her body. Just as she was about to take another step, she halted, head tilting as if trying to hear something. She looked over her shoulder, an exhausted look on her face.

            “Stop gawking like a fool, Mai, or else I’ll leave you with the Avatar and his annoying friends.” Azula pestered, her tone oddly tranquil, different from the act moments ago.

           I glared, kissing my teeth as I commanded my feet to move.

           “Whatever,” I muttered petulantly, begrudgingly going as I stripped my gaze away. I could hear Azula snort, rustling onward as I swiftly caught up. The burn in my legs seemed to grow tenfold, the slight pause in our march giving time for my body to take in the damage Ying Yue unleashed earlier. What a nuisance.

           I crossed my arms, eyes looking straight ahead as the space around us darkened the further we descended into the mouth of the cave.

           The air felt abnormally dewy, but it was the uncanny silence as we entered that had my guard rising. The sound of Azula’s and I breathing seemed to have intensified, every sniffle or breaking of a twig ricocheting off the walls at an alarming volume. Watchfully my eyes scanned our surroundings, piles of rubbish sprinkled.

           Food, water canisters-

           “Where the fuck is she?” A man’s voice resonated in the ample space, and my pace flattered. My eyes tapered, taking note of the glowing specs of light up ahead. People, but that voice-

           I knew that voice, and I could feel my gut drop.        

           Memories of Kayto swamped my mind, remembering the final moments of that faithful day. The sound of his body slain from the inside, his last breath, how lifeless his eyes looked-

           “Looking for me, Yakone?” Azula purred devilishly, as she strolled frontward. The illuminations were now in full view, torches laid along with the outermost corners, lighting the space. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

           It was the tall foreboding man at the center, whose chest was rising and falling, eyes glowing. His fists balled up, nostrils flared the moment he caught sight of Azula, before briefly shifting his gaze on me. His lips pressed tight; jaw clenched as he took a sharp inhale.

           “Where the fuck were you, and why is your fucking finger-puppet here?” Yakone spat, stepping forward, dangerous slow.

           Azula’s body stiffened slightly, but the way she brushed back her long bangs behind her ear, letting a hand rest on her hip as if she was completely unbothered by the beast in front of her. Yakone’s eyes were stone cold, a blue that easily reminded one of the dark depths of the sea, the unknown – danger.

           “Mai is staying with us now.”

           “Isn’t that a fucking treat.” Yakone sarcastically replied, running a hand through his hair.

           Azula’s eyes narrowed, Yakone licking his lips impatiently. “You know what else is a fucking treat, the fact that I just got word that someone tried to kill not only your dumbass brother but Ying Yue.” He bellowed. The veins in his neck bulged as he spoke, and as he took a step headfirst, Azula took a step back.

           Why would Yakone be upset that Azula wanted to kill Ying Yue? Isn’t that plan?

           Carefully I followed her lead, letting my body ease its way to the other side of the stony encasement, and as I shifted, I could see the look on Azula’s face. Her lips pressed, eyes conspicuous as Yakone inched his way closer and closer to her figure. Azula, she’s cowering away-

           “What are you trying to suggest, Yakone,” Azula warned, and he merely hooted, losing his patience by the second. “It was you and your lil’ friend over there, wasn’t it? You tried to kill Ying Yue.” Yakone interrogated, his hands twitching, cracking his fingers.

           She rolled her eyes, “What makes you think I have anything to do with this?”

           My eyes widen, hearing those words leave her lips - Azula’s lying.

           The way Azula effortlessly tried to bypass Yakone’s questioning, acting aloof and unbothered. But I saw the way Yakone rolled his shoulders back, chest buffing. My arms reached into my sleeves, fingers grazing the knives that laid hidden-

           And just like that, Yakone lunged.

           His hand reached forward with speed, grabbing Azula’s by her neck, shoving her against the rocks behind. His fingers spread across her windpipe, nails digging into her skin.

           Azula looked like a hurt puppy.

           The way Yakone effortlessly overpowered her, the grip on his hand tightening, purple and blue bruises rising to the surface of her skin quickly. The sound of my feet shifting over the dirt that decorated the floor caught Yakone’s attention, as he raised his free hand, wiggling his fingers towards me.

           “Fucking try, and I swear I’ll make your death more painful than Kayto’s.”

           I stilled, holding my breath as I watched as Azula’s hands fell over his.

           “What are you doing-” she hissed, eyes crazed as he practically lifted her body off the ground with no struggle. Her feet barely touched the ground, Yakone putting a warning-amount of pressure on her neck, her face turning a light shade of pink.

           “Don’t you ever fucking forget, Azula, who needs who here.” Yakone snarled.

           He leaned closer to her face; their foreheads pressed together as he tousled above. “I agreed to your plan because of two things. No United Nations, and your brother’s demise. One of those things failed, meaning Zuko’s death is the one reason why I’m even here.”

           Azula growled, “I told you I wanted to ruin him, damage him, not kill.”

           “Oh, now we’re getting into technicalities here, and I’m not one for word games. I want Zuko dead, Ying Yue was not apart of this discussion.”

           “What do you expect, Yakone? That she’s going to run and give hugs and kisses to her long-lost Uncle? You’re a criminal.”

           “And what about you, smart-ass?” Yakone shouted, shoving her body further against the rocks. She winced as the sharp edges dug into her back, “You think you’re just going to hurt Zuko and take the throne? You were nothing more but a tool for your father’s failed plan, even your mother, tossed you aside. You’re disposable.”

           The looks on both of their faces, insults and slurs tossed, each one of them raising their voices to beat each other—a shouting match, whose lungs were loudest, who could hurt the other more. I swallowed hard, taking a step back as my arms limply fell to my side.

           The whole time I thought Azula and Yakone shared the same goals, a singular plan in mind. But the way Azula shrieked and Yakone roared had my body feeling numb, their fighting fading to background noise.

           I thought the real threat was Azula and Yakone working together, but I was wrong.

           This was far worse.

           There’s no longer a game plan, a goal, or a motive.

           One wants blood, and the other wants power – both willing to cross each other and lie to get what they want.

 ~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

           “She’s pregnant!”

           “What a blessing, will this be her third child?”

           “Fourth, her eldest is serving in the navy.”

           “Ahh, yes-yes, slipped from my mind. How beautiful, if only I could convince my husband…”

           “Makes two of us. How about you, Imperial Consort Ying Yue? Have you thought about having children of your own?” The ladies giggled, sipping away on their sweet teas in the garden.  

           The cherry blossom branches swayed under the gentle breeze, the pink flowers cascading with the current, fluttering like butterflies. The cool shade painted our skin, providing as an escape from the blaring sun, although the kids didn’t seem to mind the heat in the slightest. Quite the contrary – they were thriving.

           Their laughter was clear as day, ringing throughout the palace gardens, but I couldn’t help but tune in with Kiyi’s the most. The ladies’ banter lost to the birds humming and moving water – absorbed in the beautiful smile on Kiyi’s face as she chatted away with her friends.

           A red and golden embroidered picnic blanket laid over the grass, Kiyi was passing along the turtle duck food for her friends to feed. Her cheeks were dusted in pink, telling them fascinating facts about the creatures from the Southern Water Tribe.

           “After school tomorrow, I’ll read the book to you. They have this animal called a ‘Polar Bear Dog’ – and it’s so cute and fluffy!” Kiyi gushed, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t snort hearing her excitement. The way her eyes twinkled with passion, a small part of my heart hurt – because the look reminded me so much of Zuko’s whenever he got excited.

           Zuko…I miss you-

           “Imperial Consort?” A voice droned; the sound close to my being, I found myself jumping. My head snapped to the women beside me, them staring at me with looks of concern. Shit – what were we talking about again?

           “My apologies, I was watching the children-” I started, and the lady to my side started to snicker. She rose a napkin to her face, delicately tapping the tissue to rid herself of any crumbs that littered her appearance. All the women looked put-together, their hair and makeup done to impress, their clothes extravagant, meant to display their status.

           “I guess that answers our question.”

           “What question?” I inquired, and the ladies began to laugh once again.

           “Whether or not Fire Lord Zuko and you are planning on having children anytime soon.” She replied, shooting me a sheepish smile. My mouth dropped, a shy blush coating my cheeks as a meek oh escaped me. Of course, they were talking about children and family. Almost all the high-ranking nobles were married, most with kids – or pregnant.

           I stuck out like a sore thumb in these ‘royal tea parties,’ unable to relate to the women or men due to my lack of domestic life. I’m a mere child dressed in adult clothes – playing dress-up. My hands fell over my lap after combing my hair behind my ear, carelessly pressing thumbs as a means to keep my composure. I could feel my skin starting to heat up once again.

           Another fever- Katara is going to kill me.

           “Well, if it is not out of line to ask – when do you and Fire Lord Zuko plan on officially tying the knot?” A curious voice peeked, and at the question alone, I found myself reaching for my teacup, stealing a sip of the much-needed chamomile tea.

           Marriage – with Zuko? I fought back the petty laugh. Marriage with Zuko seems more like a distant dream than a reality.

           “Hopefully, once Fire Lord Zuko completes a few of his personal projects. Love is patient after all, and I’ll wait an eternity for him.” I spoke, forcing the words to leave my lips as I swallowed the lukewarm liquid.

           It was comical, how quick they were to eat up my words, gushing about how romantic I was, that I was willing to wait for Zuko – words straight out of a romance novel. If only they knew that that was only scratching the surface of what I would do for Zuko, the things I would sacrifice.

           I could feel my shoulders slump over in defeat, biting my lips anxiously.

           The women didn’t notice the waver in my voice, the blue smile on my face, or the tears that I desperately held back. They were more concerned about the newest designer, skincare product, and fragrance – topics I would’ve undoubtedly been interested in if I didn’t have a looming fog in my mind.

           Politics, it’s all politics.

           The kid’s squeals peeked in volume, catching my attention, the children throwing their napkins in the air, towards Kiyi. What in the world-

           “It’s okay! I’ll be right back!” Kiyi insisted before standing up.

           Her black hair bobbed side to side, skipping towards me at full speed. Droplets of something dripping after every bounce, tainting the green coloured grass under her steps, seeping into the soil.

           “Button-” I cooed, letting my tea rest on my plate before outstretching my arms. My hands caressed her face, and the happiness in her expression had me sporting a smile – a genuine smile. Kiyi was a breath of fresh air. Youthfulness and innocence, a heart of pure gold.

           “What happened, button? You’re a mess.” I snickered under my breath, watching the sticky liquid trickle from the hem of her dress, her lap completed covered. She scratched her head, shooting me a spirited grin. She looks just like Zuko when she smiles like that-

           “An accident, I didn’t see the jug of juice, and I kind of hit it.” Kiyi giggled, and I couldn’t help but snort, running my hand through her loose locks. “You’re so silly, button. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” I assured, light-heartedly tapping her nose.

           Kiyi nodded her head before shifting her gaze to the women I was seated with. My eyes followed hers, flustered at how the women looked over us with broad smiles – hearts for eyes.

           “I bet on two kids.”

           “Really? I think one.”

           “Wouldn’t be surprised if they already have a name picked out.” The ladies bantered between themselves as if I wasn’t currently sitting with them.

           I could feel a tiny finger poke my cheek, looking back at Kiyi, a teasing smile on her face. And seeing her sport that knowing look, a look that reminded me of a harmonious mixture of Zuko’s and Toph’s ‘I’m up to no good’ had me freezing.

           Oh no-

           “Izumi – Zuzu told me that that’s the name they want,” Kiyi spoke up, catching on to the topic at hand far too quickly for my liking. The women all leaned over in disbelief, jaws hitting the table, struggling to process the very thing Kiyi blurted.

           My eyes widen, the silly banter of family life between Zuko and I exposed. When and why did Zuko tell Kiyi this information-

           “Button-”

           “And Zuzu said they have a baby room set up in their vacation house! I can’t wait until I become an aunt. He said it’s a very serious job and-” My hand fell over Kiyi’s lips, cutting her off midsentence as I shot the women an embarrassed smile.

           The redness of my face was no longer due to my impending fever – but out of the utter realization that Zuko seemingly unleashes all his damn soft and fluffy feelings to her. Kiyi really is Zuko’s weakness, isn’t she?

           “Let’s get that dress cleaned button,” I said through awkward giggles, hand still firmly placed over her face, Kiyi letting out squeals of delight through my fingers.

           “Yue and Zuzu, sitting on a-”

           “Throne because he’s Fire Lord and I’m his-”

           “Wifey.” Kiyi managed to yelp.

           The speed at which my body moved, not bothering to say my goodbyes to these royals, as I nudged Kiyi’s body forward with my own. There was no way in the spirit world I was going to look behind me, already imaging the sunny looks on those women’s faces hearing the fuss coming from Kiyi’s lips.

           “I swear, button, I’m going to revoke cookie dates from you!” I mumbled under my breath, feeling the way Kiyi’s body shook from joy. My hand slipped from her mouth, her face pink as she held her stomach, her laughter loud and proud. And despite the embarrassment and exasperation, I found myself laughing along with her.

           There was something about hearing a child’s guiltless laugh that was contagious, especially coming from Kiyi. The smile on my face was enormous, reaching my eyes. When was the last time I smiled this much? The last time I laughed freely, enjoying my time?

           “You’re so much trouble, button~.” I blew, hands falling over her shoulders, embracing her. My fingers squeezed her chubby cheeks from behind basking in the sun’s heat before we walked up the palace steps. The guards before us opened the grand doors, observing the way I coddled Kiyi to my body. Like a momma bear.

           There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that they didn’t already know the trouble Kiyi could cause in less than a minute – the reason why they all sported small grins watching us enter.

           A handful, just like her brother.

           We stepped inside the Kingdom, walking side by side, glued to the hip, humming happily. Our footsteps pattered along the flooring, heading towards her room, but I saw the cheeky glances Kiyi tried to steal from the corner of her eyes, studying my figure. She thinks she’s so sly.

           I snickered at her childish behaviour, poking her cheek, “What are you staring at so much, button? Do I have some crumbs on my face?”

           “No~.” Kiyi giggled, tilting her head to the side.

           “Then tell me, button.” I pestered, enjoying her coyness. Her blush deepened, a flush I didn’t notice until now, before poking her one more time, “Tell me, what are you staring at so intently?”

           “You’re smiling again…you’re pretty when you smile.” Kiyi breathed.

           Our paces stilled; my breathing hitched as Kiyi wore the saddest smile on her face. An expression no child should ever have to wear. My shoulders dropped in surprise, not fully processing the words she spoke.

           “Ever since Zuzu got this cold, you’ve been really sad…you must miss him a lot, I can tell.” Kiyi uttered. Her tone dripped with distress, only then noticing where her golden eyes were settled over.

           Men and women dressed in red with badges strapped to their arms. The cross-shaped icon of their insignia standing out amongst their outfit. They were moving around us hastily, clipboards pressed against their chests, giving us quick bows before running through the large doors before us.

           The Infirmary.

           How did I not notice before?

           “I want to visit Zuzu, but Mom told me that I couldn’t. She said that he’s sleeping, but-but he’ll wake up soon…” Kiyi continued, although the more she spoke, the quiver in her voice grew. I breathed in deeply, hearing the pain in Kiyi’s words. Gosh, of course, she misses Zuko.

           They’re two peas in a pod – an inseparable duo. I watched as Kiyi sprung side to side, a whirlwind of emotions flying by. But what pained me the most about this was the fact that Kiyi didn’t know a single thing, the truth.

           A nasty cold – that’s all it was.

           “I’m going to pick some flowers for Zuzu for your bedroom! He loves it when I pick him flowers. Can I do that, Yue?” Kiyi questioned, and I smiled at the positive idea, the ache laced in her tone already lost, a chirpiness finding light. Seeing how quick she bounced back to her upbeat self, pushing past the sad thoughts, the spirit of a Firebender.

           My knees bent, going down to her height, our pupils leveled.

           “Zuko would love that, button.” I whispered docilely, brushing her black locks behind her ear, “Any gift from you would make him smile.”

           My smile grew, seeing how a faint pink painted her cheeks, like tiny pink stars that decorated the starry night. “Yue…can I-can I ask you for a favour?” Kiyi questioned shyly, looking down at her toes, her hands stuffed into her dress pockets. I let my finger dip underneath her chin, compelling her gaze to met mine.

           “Anything button.”

           “I-I made a get-better card for Zuzu in school today. Can you-can you give it to him?” Kiyi requested, pulling from her pocket. My eyes dipped, noticing the little red card appear from her dress, astonished it wasn’t ruined from the juice spilling over her lap. A large sun was painted in front with a smiley face, ‘Get better Zuzu!!!!’ scribbled across.

           The smile from my face flattered, lips parting as I took in what Kiyi asked me to do – the effort she put into this card. She wants me to give this to Zuko? My eyes snapped back to her, taking in the look of pure and utter determination on her face.

           There was nothing more Kiyi wanted at this moment than for her big brother to have this card.

           I opened my mouth to say something – but I couldn’t, lips trembling as I struggled to think coherently. The feather-like footsteps from the maids and nurses around us seemed to intensify, sounding like thunder. Blood rushing to my head as the thought of seeing Zuko’s resting figure tormented my mind.

           Kiyi will be heartbroken if I say no, but Zuko-

           “Button, I-I-” I stammered agonizingly, unable to find the right answer, trying to catch my breath. But the look on Kiyi’s face. Gosh, the similarities in expressions with Zuko, it was baffling.

           I can’t hurt her like this, but to see Zuko after so long-

           A delicate hand fell over my shoulder, like a plume, and Kiyi’s eyes widened in surprise before shooting the stranger behind me a joyful smile. I flinched at the unexpected tender touch over my kneeling figure. The familial grasp accustomed.

           “Avatar Aang!”

           “Hi Kiyi, what are you two doing over here? Planning on visiting your brother with Yue?” Aang spoke light-heartedly from behind, his pitch higher in tone than usual. I could feel the way his hand shifted over my shoulder, his fingers wrapping around my body, squeezing.

           He’s telling me to relax-

           “No~. I can’t visit, grown-ups only. But I made a card for Zuzu, and I want Yue to give it to him!”

           “A card, so thoughtful, Kiyi! It’s been a while since Yue saw your brother. What a perfect reason to see him now.” Aang casually spoke, his playful and cheerful aura shining through. And while any other day I would’ve gushed about how well Aang was with children, my mind focused on the words he uttered. I knew the double meaning.

           “Aang-” I warned with a batted breath.

           A cold sweat started to form on my eyebrow, the fever and impending panic attack beginning to work its way back to the surface no matter how hard I tried to shove the looming emotions away. I didn’t need to look over my shoulder, as I could feel Aang’s usual doe-like eyes boring holes into the back of my head, goosebumps rising on my skin.

           “I was going to see Zuko right now. I can go with Yue.” Aang continued, and I could hear the smile on his face. But despite the casual tone, there was an unspoken sternness. He wasn’t leaving this up for debate.

           Kiyi, utterly oblivious to Aang’s underlying message, squealed in delight. She shot me a great smile, a smile that had my stomach in knots as her tiny hands gripped my own, tugging on my sleeves. The excitement that ran through her body, practically jumping and standing on her toes.

           “Thank you, Yue! You’re the best; I’m so lucky to have a big sister like you. No wonder Zuko says he wants to marry you!” Kiyi gushed, and I could feel my skin begin to prickle. Zuko wants to marry me- “I can wash up by myself, so don’t worry about me, Yue! Here is the card-” Kiyi rushed, shoving the fragile thing into my grip.

           But what caught me off guard the most was the way Kiyi leaned towards me, pressing her puckered lips against my cheek. The feeling of her pouting lips, planting a gigantic wet kiss, had me blushing with happiness. It was adorable, sweet, a gesture that I didn’t deserve.

           “You’re the best; I love you!” Kiyi blurted all in one breath.

           No, I’m not, I’m far from ‘best,’ and even farther from ‘good.’

           “I love you too, button.” I hummed, pressing a bittersweet kiss on her cheek before she pulled away. She glowed at the words of endearment, waving at Aang before skipping down the hallway. I watched as she clasped on her juice-covered dress, giggles flowing from her innocent lips as she danced away, her figure becoming nothing more but a fleeting dot.

           It was Aang’s moderate tap that pulled me away from my trance, looking over my shoulder to see him standing in those mustard coloured robes of his.

           “Let me help you up, Yue.” Aang hummed as he reached, our fingers brushing against each other. He tugged me forward easily, letting me find my footing, as I dusted off my dress. As I patted down, I couldn’t help but let my digits slide over the hand-made card Kiyi gave me.

           The large sun she had painted with a cheery smile, staring back at me almost mockingly.

           Why did it hurt so much to see this card?

           “You’re flushed, Yue. Is your fever back?” Aang worried, stepping closer as he carefully inspected my figure. The further he inched his way towards me, I found myself blinking rapidly, taking in Aang’s appearance.

           The deep circles under his eyes, cheeks a bit more hollow than usual, highlighting his cheekbones in an ill manner. Even his brown eyes that were usually light in colour seemed darker, murky.

           “Aang, you look unwell-”

           “Guess that makes two of us.” Aang laughed under his breath, letting the back of his hand fall over my forehead. His soft skin brushed against mine, sweeping aside whatever baby hairs decided to escape from my current updo. The coolness from his body had me sighing in relief. How an ice bath seems far too tempting at the moment.

           Aang glowered, pulling his hand back, and I couldn’t help but gripe under my breath – my five second-cooling pad gone. “Let’s go see Katara about this fever. You’re burning up; this isn’t good...” Aang started, and I shook my head.

           “Don’t worry, Aang, she’s with Zuko and I-and I have things I have to do,” I spoke, voice unsteady as I tried to sound put-together. Instinctively, I sharpened up shoulders, chin up, trying to appear presentable—the same go-to movements I often did with the other royals and councilmembers.

           Yet the moment I breathed in deeply, back straight, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of feeling stupid. Standing here with Aang, forcing myself to seem normal, happy, okay, had my whole act in shambles. Because while I was able to put on the perfect façade with everyone, Aang was family.

           The way his shoulders dropped, eyes rounded, and arms ready to embrace – he already knew that I was in so much emotional and physical pain. Every day was a struggle to get out of bed, to eat, to work. I bit my lip, letting my fingers dance with the card Kiyi left behind. I can’t do this.

           I rose it, extending it towards him, “H-here, please give this to Zuko.”

           Aang’s eyes widen, lightly pushing the card back towards my chest. “Kiyi asked you to do this, Yue.” Aang reasoned, shaking his head, and I swallowed dryly.

           He doesn’t get it.

           “I-I can’t, Aang-” I inhaled, and Aang blew, “How long are you going to go not seeing Zuko, Yue. He needs you-”

           “I’m busy-” I struggled, and Aang scoffed, his palms falling over my arms.

           He ran his hands up and down, trying his best to comfort me despite the busybodies swimming by us. And for a split moment, I found myself slowly starting to ease in the act, before Aang spoke once more.

           It was like the room around us disappeared, the people, the noise, everything gone. My vision tunnelled on the way Aang moved his lips, ears listening to his usually airy voice utter the heaviest, heart-wrenching truth.

           “It’s been a week, Yue. A whole week, and you’ve never visited him once.”

           I swore, realizing I caused a dent in the corner of the delicate card from my shuddering hands, hearing Aang’s blunt revelation. A-a whole week?

           A whole week I went without seeing Zuko, and the sense of overwhelming dread weighed down my shoulders, stressed to process the information. I swallowed back a sob, cradling the card to my chest as the space around me felt like it was enclosing, the air too thick to breathe, burning my throat-

           “Yue, watch out-” Aang exclaimed.

           A maid bumped her shoulder against mine abruptly, causing me to wobble in my spot.

           The room spun, Aang’s arm reaching forward, grasping my elbow securely as a means to steady my dazzled state. The maid’s eyes widening in shock as she took note at the way my feet tumbled over each other for a moment, Aang desperately trying to help me find my state of balance.

           “My apologies, Imperial Consort Ying Yue, I was not watching where I was going- Imperial Consort Ying Yue? Are-are you alright?” The lady asked, her brows pinching together as she thoughtfully inched forward. It was then I realized how frazzled I undoubtedly looked.

           My whole body squeezed inwardly, clenching onto the card Kiyi gave me to my chest for dear life. I gulped, nodding my head nervously, “I-I’m fine, please, don’t apologize. I was lost in my thoughts; it’s my fault. I have to go now.” I exclaimed, forcing a smile on my face to the maid as she worriedly nodded and carefully bid her farewell.

           Aang’s grasp on my elbow stiffened, shifting my gaze back to him as she left, “Yue, you need to see Zuko eventually. You promised Kiyi.”

           “I will, just not now.” I wheezed, and the frown on Aang’s face grew, “You’ve been saying that all week.”

           “Because I’m busy, I made a vow-”

           “Work can wait, Yue. You shouldn’t even be working; you’re exhausted. Have you seen yourself?” Aang puffed, shaking his head in frustration as his fingers unknowingly dug deeper into my arm. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, you have a fever, you look sick. I’m worried-” Aang tried to reason, and I grimaced at his words.

           I knew how terrible I looked.

           Every night I tossed and turned in bed. No number of blankets, no number of pillows, not even sleeping in Zuko’s old T-shirts, seemed to do the trick. And those rare moments, where I did manage to close my eyes, were only filled with nightmares. Vivid images of the pained expression on Zuko’s face, him struggling to breathe, the way he looked at me.

           He hates me-

           A shaky exhale left me, “A-Aang, I can’t see Zuko-”

           “Stop punishing yourself, Yue.” Aang snapped, his voice sharp.

           The people around us all stilled for a moment, undoubtedly hearing Aang raise his voice, a tone I have only listened to a handful of times. They stared at us, looks of confusion and alarm stamped on their faces before they cautiously treaded around us, dashing through the infirmary doors, or down the hallway.

           Aang’s face was pink, the grip on my arm constricting as he blew stridently. It was like the emotional turmoil inside the both of us snapped, lashing out towards each other with no real reason. The weight of the whole week, the stress of running around, was eating us all alive.

           I ripped my arm from his grip with a cry, taking a step back as my bottom lip quivered. “You don’t understand, Aang.” I gulped, head shaking as I took another weak step backwards. The way my body trembled, thankful I didn’t trip over my feet.

           It was like all the pain and confusion was evident in my face, Aang’s expression softened, realizing how his temper flared for that split moment. Rubbing his face in defeat, he sighed heavily.

           “Then talk to me, Yue.” Aang pleaded as his voice strained with need, “Zuko needs you so much right now, you’re the only person he’s ever opened to like this. He loves you more than anything else in the world-”

           My breathing hitched, body stilling at Aang’s words. Memories of Mai and I’s interaction a week ago entering my mind-

‘Zuko would never love a monster like yourself. Not after everything you’ve done.’

‘All this drama happened because of you.’

‘If anyone gets hurt, it’s all your fault.’

           My lips parted, a wheezy gasp leaving me as I struggled to talk – as if someone kicked me in the gut. “I need to go-” I said, eyes unable to focus onto Aang, everything around me turning into one giant blur.

           “Yue-”

           “I need to go; I have work I need to do,” I spoke harshly, face impassive as I dodged his reach. Aang’s soft pleas, desperately trying to grab hold of me, the sleeves of my dress slipping through his fingers like water as I twisted on my heel.

           Scurrying through the people in the hallway, hand clasping over the card Kiyi had drawn, my teeth dug into my lips, the taste of iron filling my senses. I need to go; I need to go-

           But…

           I don’t want to go.

             I let out a tired sulk, staring down at the black ink that stained the document before me. My signature looked like a two-year-old drew it, lines shaky and blotchy. What’s wrong with me? It’s like I forgot how to write, the ink practically pooling at the bottom of the page.

           It seemed like instead of spilling the ink all over the desk, like I’ve been doing this past week, I decided to pool it at the bottom of each document I’ve signed. Each paper that I touched with the tip of my golden pen, sporting its own artistic touch of ‘blotches.’ Every hour, the specks and chaos were getting worse.

           Maybe I could play it off as some modern artistic signature style?

           I snorted at my foolishness; shoulders slouched as I hesitantly rose the heavy pen in my hand back towards the paper. My eyes wearily scanned the document, trying to think of any possible way to save the work.

           At this point, anything would do.

           One paper, I just needed one article this evening to have a pretty signature. That’s it. Cautiously, I inched the pen towards my scribbles, biting my lip as I held my breath. And just like that, I swore.

           The sound of wet paper ripping as the golden tip stabbed through, the paper giving way to the sheer volume of ink and pressure. A loud whine escaped me, pen slipping from my grasp as I let my body fall against the desk, head thumping against the wood. Why can’t anything go right for once?

           Papers flew into the air, cascading downwards like fluttering butterflies, falling onto the floor. The unrelenting throbbing of my head grew tenfold. Either from banging it against this wooden desk or the utter frustration that coursed through my veins – my bet is both.

           My hands spread wide, flush with the study, nails digging and scratching at the surface.

           “Get it together, Yue. You’re not going to cry over a damn signature.” I blubbered, lip rolling between my teeth, forcing my eyes shut to prevent that stupid tear from rolling down my cheek. The taste of old blood still lingering on my lip from biting it roughly earlier on in the day with Aang.

           I whipped my head back, sitting upright, forcing my eyes open.

           “Don’t you dare cry.” I hissed to myself, as my chest tightened.

           The room was deathly quiet, only the dim lights from the candles spread about lighting the area. Eerie shadows from the décor scattered throughout the room had a restlessness settling in my stomach, the air stuffy. Every creak of the wooden floors, the flicker of light felt like a spirit hiding in the shadows, ready to lunge and attack.

           The room didn’t feel like home.

           I didn’t get the butterflies when I sat in this chair, skin warm and giggling non-stop.

           Nothing felt like home anymore.

           Because Zuko was home, dummy.

           “D-don’t cry,” I repeated like a mantra, blinking rapidly to stop the tears that so desperately wanted to fall. “It’s a signature, j-just a signature. Who cares?” I reasoned loudly, undoubtedly the guards on the other side questioning my sanity. But the more I spoke, the further my voice cracked, my emotions and logic fighting fiercely against one another.

           Helplessly my gaze wandered about the room, trying to distract myself, anything to push the too real of emotions away. I could hear my heartbeat thumping in my ears, every single thing my eyes settled upon evoking another, stronger emotion.

           The simple door at the other end of the room had me recalling those times I would sneak in here to surprise Zuko during work. The way his face would light up, more often than not, sighing in relief and beckoning me to his side. ‘Just who I needed, my baby’ Zuko would often coo, his hands brushing back my hair, tangling themselves.

           Or what about this desk?

           The number of times I sat on this thing, Zuko and I teasing each other, bantering about nonsense. ‘You’re so needy, love. Always needing hugs and kisses,’ Zuko would complain, only to pull me close. Fitting perfectly between his legs as he planted chaste kisses over my head, whispering sweet nothings.

           I sniffled, nose runny as my eyes fluttered shut.

           ‘Mmm, my one and only, baby’ I could vividly recall Zuko droning into my ear just last week, arms wrapping around my waist, fingers dancing over my skin. His warmth, his touches, his kisses.

           Zuko loved me in those moments, he really did, and I ruined it all.

           “Why now? Of all the times, why do I have to remember this now?” I whimpered under my breath, pain radiating up my nails as I burrowed into the wood beneath me. For days upon days, I drowned myself in work—anything to keep my mind off Zuko, avoiding the Gaang like the plague.

           This wasn’t about the stupid signature, gosh, it was so much more.

           My thoughts ran wild, switching between the happy moments Zuko and I shared, to the look of absolute horror once he realized what I was. But the cherry on top, the gut-twisting moment that had a small cry leaving my lips was Mai’s words that faithful day.

           The way Mai’s eyes looked down from above, an expression filled with sadness and pain etched into her very soul. Her tough shell crumbled for that tiny instant; her winded whisper engraved into my mind.

           ‘Remember, Yue. If you really love Zuko – want the best for him. You know what to do.’

           “B-but I don’t want to go.” I weakly snivelled, confessing that very thing I was trying to ignore. The festering and unavoidable topic at hand, the decision that kept me up at night, the reason why I couldn’t look at Ursa or Noren in the eye. I want to stay here, by Zuko’s side. I can’t hurt him like that, leave him after everything he’s been through-

           But this isn’t about you; a dark voice echoed into my mind; this is for Zuko, his safety.

           But he’s home-

           He doesn’t love you, you’re a monster, forever and always.

           My eyes snapped open once more, vision blurry as tears build up, freely falling down my face. “I’m losing home.” I sniffled, heart aching as I tried my hardest to swallow down my sobs. I didn’t want the guards who stood on the other side of that door to hear me, to feel burdened by my distress.

           Now is not the time to make others worry.

           I just need to continue ruling the Kingdom until Zuko gets better and then-

           Weakly, I wiped the tears from my eyes, taking deep lungsful as a means to control my emotions. My cheeks hurt from the crying, nose a bright red, no doubt, as I wiped the final tear from my eyes. I don’t even want to know how I look like at the moment.

           My vision cleared, a shaky breath leaving me, as I sat straight. Another hour of work and then you can try to sleep this all off. I wiggled my way into Zuko’s chair, trying to find a comfy spot to zone out my thoughts and fix my terrible signatures, only to freeze.

           There, at the very edge of my desk, stood that perfect red card.

           The bright yellow sun smiling at me, Kiyi’s adorable cursive scribbled on the front.

           “Get better, Zuzu,” I whispered, a small smile emerging on my face as the words flew from my lips.

           Memories of Kiyi’s, bouncing from joy in her spot as she said she loved me, that I was the best big sister. Hands shaking, I found them stretching before me without thinking. Leaning forward and pressing myself against the desk, my fingertips grazed the edge of the card, drawing it closer.

           I couldn’t help but caress the soft paper, feeling where the paint stuck, the paper slightly wrinkled. With much care, I brought it close to my face, eagerly musing over every paint stroke, every sparkle, the love etched into this simple card.

           It was funny how the little things in life take up the most space in your heart.

           How a simple card caused the warm fuzzy feelings, the feelings I haven’t felt in almost a week, to appear. The dashing butterflies in my stomach, cheeks glowing in glee, the emotions and reactions that would often appear whenever I was with Zuko. A fleeting moment of complete and utter bliss, happiness.

           I want to see Zu-

           A knock on the door stripped me from my thoughts, jumping in my seat.

           The way my eyes bugged out, staring at the door with my jaw dropped, not at all anticipating such a powerful knock, let alone at this moment. My head snapped side to side, hastily taking note of the mess spread around.

           “Umm, o-one minute, please!” I shouted, mortified beyond belief.

           My hand grabbed the papers that were within reach, almost throwing myself over the table as I greedily swiped all the blotched documents towards me. Shit-shit-shit, where am I going to put all this? And that’s when I spotted the small white bin that stood at my feet, and without thinking twice, I tossed all the papers inside.

           I’ll take care of this mess after.

           “C-come in!” I awkwardly muttered, sniffling as I stared forward.

           A moment of silence fell over me before the front door flew open with a bang. My head tilted to the side, watching with interest as a short man dashed inside. His black clothing made him look like a shadow, making his way towards me as if he’s been inside here countless of times, knowing the room like the back of his hand.

           The door swayed close behind him, the man's hands raised as he adjusted the thick red scarf wrapped around his shoulders and neck. “Fire Lord Zuko.” The man huffed, pulling the veil down his face, exposing his sharp nose, “I have news about Ax-”

           His dark cat-like eyes lined up with mine, his thin pink lips forming an ‘O’ shape as he froze in his spot. We stared at each other, looks of confusion and amusement flashing between us, neither one of us knowing who we were in relation.

           I found my gaze falling over the man’s features, taking note of the faint wrinkles that appeared on his face, his skin tanned. As if he realized that I was studying him intently, curious as to who he was, a faint flush coated his cheeks.

           “Y-you’re not Fire Lord Zuko.” The man buzzed, his tone low and taut.

           I let out a breathless giggle, entertained by the expression on his face.

           He looked utterly taken off guard, stunned, like a confused child. And seeing such an expression on a man who was currently dressed in a skin tight-suit, weapons undoubtedly concealed underneath was such a contrast. I found myself easing in my seat, something in me telling me he wasn’t a threat, despite his harsh facial structures and odd clothing.

           I saw the way he eagerly studied my sitting figure, and like something clicked he quickly bowed, “You must be- Imperial Consort Ying Yue, my sincere apologies-”

           “Please, it’s okay.” I quickly retorted, standing up from the chair as I waved away the formalities. My eyes scanned his face once again, trying desperately to place a name. He seems unfamiliar, I’ve never met this man before, have I?

           “Is there something you need? Fire Lord Zuko is not available at the moment, but I can do whatever I can.” I started, and the man merely shook his head, hand scratching his head. “Unfortunately, I need to speak with Fire Lord Zuko, directly. Do you know where I could find him?”

           My lips parted, a sad smile forming on my face, as I eased my way around the chair, walking around the desk. He doesn’t know- Even the man in front seemed to notice the way my body altered, a sudden heaviness in my step. I let my hand slide down my lap, fixing any wrinkles that may have appeared.

           “Fire Lord Zuko is ill at the moment; I’m temporarily stepping into his role. But if there’s anything I can do-”

           “He’s ill?” The man exclaimed, and I puckered, nodding my head.

           “This whole week…” I spoke, and the man clicked his tongue, running his hands through his hair. He did not want to hear that. He began to grumble under his breath, mumbling incoherent, but I could sense the frustration from him.

           I couldn’t help it, watching over him, feet moving on their own, inching closer towards him: the sharp eyes, sun-kissed skin. Just who is he?

           “My apologies, but who are you, may I ask?”

           He looked taken aback by the question, before chuckling bashfully under his breath. “I promise I do have better manners than this, Imperial Consort.” He droned, shaking his head in shame before giving me a broad smile.

           “I go by Mihir; I’m an informant, I work directly under Fire Lord Zuko’s authority.” He started, and the moment his name left his lips, my eyes widen.

           The beach house.

           I stepped forward, a pout on my face as I pointed a finger, “It’s you. The man who kept calling Zuko when we were on vacation- you kept stealing Zuko from me!”

           He looked taken aback, raising his hands in front of him as he shook, hearing the high pitch in my voice as I squealed. “S-sorry, Imperial Consort. I didn’t mean to bother you during your vacation-” he stumbled, and I huffed under my breath.

           “It’s fine, knowing Zuko, he made you work. That man doesn’t understand how to relax.” Gosh, if Zuko knew I stuffed the bin to the brim with paperwork, he would’ve killed me.‘Hiding paperwork doesn’t make the work go away, love’ I could already imagine Zuko grumbling, hearing his voice vividly in my mind. I smiled to myself despite the annoyance.

           Zuko would pinch his nose, and then complain about how the papers are all wrinkled-

           “You know Fire Lord Zuko well.” Mihir chuckled under his breath, a blush creeping onto my cheeks as I realized I zoned out for a moment. I timidly brushed whatever hairs fell from my ponytail, biting my lip as I looked down at the floor.

           “I admire his work ethic, even though it drives me nuts sometimes. There isn’t a day where he isn’t doing something, improving himself or helping others. I-I always adored that.” I rambled, mentally slapping myself. Why is it that, whenever Zuko is brought to topic, I find myself blurting another thing I adore about him?

           Mihir mused at my words, crossing his arms, “Fire Lord Zuko…he talks about you…a lot.”  My gaze snapped upwards to meet Mihir’s, a gentle smile on his face.

           He didn’t seem like a man who smiled often, but it suited him. Even though every expression of Mihir’s had this stoutness to it, I couldn’t help but notice the softness in this man’s soul. I think I know why Zuko trusts him.

           “I guess I’ll come back tomorrow. Hopefully, Fire Lord Zuko feels better and can arrange a moment with me. I’ll leave so you can go see him now, give him my regards.” Mihir spoke, and my head tilted, raising a brow.

           “What makes you think I’m seeing him now?” I blurted, confusion written on my face. Mihir chuckled, raising his scarf over his face, “Because you’re holding that ‘get better Zuzu’ card.”

           His cat-like eyes were the only visible part of his body, stepping back as he placed his hand over his chest, “And based on the way you’re holding it, tight and close to your heart, shows me it’s important. That you care and worry about Fire Lord Zuko, maybe even more than you realize.”

           He bowed from his waist down before opening the study door, just a crack – slipping through like the wind. It softly shut behind him, leaving me alone in the middle of the room. My mouth dropped, looking down at my hands to realize Mihir was right.

           This whole time…I-I was holding the card.

           The sun smiled back at me, and I couldn’t help but smile again, no longer experiencing that mocking feeling like I was earlier in the day. “A promise is a promise…” I whispered, and I twirled on my feet, walking towards the candles that littered the room.

           My lips puckered, blowing out each one, dashing. The way I spoke to Aang, the promise I made to Kiyi- I don’t want my time here to end like this, on such a sour note.

           I want to see Zuko – one last time.

             Thumbs twirling, a large pout settled as I waltzed down the red hall, the infirmary just around the corner.

           My dress rustled as I walked, the clicking sound of my heels, bouncing off the walls of the almost wholly deserted Kingdom. One or two servants would come down ever so often, smiling sweetly before continuing on their way. They all bore tired expressions, ready to go home for the night, until tomorrow.

           I pressed the card Kiyi made close to my chest, hands shaking slightly.

           The moon was high in the night sky, admiring the reflection it drew on the water in the pond. Despite the distance, I could spot the faint ripples, turtle ducks calmly floating below the waterfall, enjoying the chill air the Fire Nation had to offer.

           Another puff left me, lost in my thoughts as I continued on my walk, eyes settling upon the flower petals that fell from the trees. To think that just hours ago, I was under a tree, the hot air and beaming sun radiating upon my skin. Now an odd sense of peace filled the air, the children's laughter, the women’s gossip just remnants of time.

           One more walk in the gardens with Zuko.

           I would’ve loved that.

           The warmth of Zuko’s hands in mine, his fingers rubbing the skin between my thumb and pointer, humming our soft tune. Or maybe us playing in the water with Kiyi once again, Iroh and Ursa laughing in the background, shaking their heads in amusement.

           “Yue?” A voice breathed, so light, quieter than a whisper, that for a moment, I thought I imagined it. My brows pinched together, raising my hand to my head as my pace flattered. Did I- am I so tired I’m hearing things right now?

           I shook my head, scoffing to myself.

           My eyes burned, throat rough as I swallowed hard. The events of the day had my hands cramped and body aching. “Get it together, Yue,” I grumbled under my breath, forcing my feet to move. I let my hand drop from my forehead, resting it along the palace walls – pivoting to turn the corner before I stopped abruptly in my tracks.

           “Yue.” The voice spoke again, this time louder, more forceful.

           This isn’t my imagination; the voice is coming from behind me. I twirled in my spot, a small gasp escaping me as I soaked up what I saw. The stunning mix of yellow and blue, a large wooden stick in hand-

           “Aang.” I breathed, reviewing his figure up and down.

           He stood there, posture hunched, and unlike this morning, where he seemed tired but overall refreshed, now he looked utterly drained. The way his eyes sulked and the grip he held over his staff, loose. Dangling from the tips of fingers as he stared back at me, his pupils wide. Is he just coming back from work? At this hour of the night?

           “Aang, you’re just going to bed now?” I announced, unable to hide the worry in my tone.  Aang awkwardly scratched his head, laughing under his breath while nodding slowly, “Mhm, I had some paperwork I had to review for Republic City.”

           “This late?” I questioned; my hands firmly pressed over my chest.

           Aang opened his mouth before shutting it, the corner of his lips tugging upwards as he coolly leaned on his staff. “What about you, Yue?” Aang started, wiggling his eyebrows, nudging his head to the side as if to emphasize the fact that the moon was high in the sky.

           “It seems like someone else is just going to bed.”

           I bite my lip, shaking my head, “I’m not going to bed just yet…”

           Aang glowered at my words, pushing off the staff that he was just resting on, back straightening. “Where are you going, Yue?” Aang voiced, “It’s late; you should be resting-”

           “I'm going to see Zuko.”

           The air between us stilled, hearing him take in a sharp inhale, stilling in his spot.      

           His mouth agape, gawking as he let the words, I uttered, seep in. Expressions of astonishment and disbelief flashed by his face, unsure which emotion to settle upon. I couldn’t fault him for feeling as shocked as he was. For a whole week, I refused to see Zuko, no matter how often they begged and asked. But I can’t say no anymore; I want to see him so bad, be greedy and selfish and see him-

           Reservedly, I shifted my hands from my chest, presenting the get-better card Kiyi gave me earlier in the day to him. It was like the card jerked Aang from the conflicting emotions that tumbled inside him, seeing his sandaled feet moving forward.

           “Yue, if you’re not ready to see him, you don’t have to.” Aang concerned, brows pinching together as he anxiously stepped forward. “I can give the card, right now-”

           “Aang, I’m sorry for pushing you and the Gaang away.” I snivelled.

           The trembling in my hands grew, teeth digging deep into my swollen lips as I drove the card further into my chest. My nails pulled at the silky fabric of my dress, fighting back the tears of remorse.

           The way I treated Aang earlier was sad, but it wasn’t just today. It was ever since Zuko fell ill. It was like I couldn’t look at anyone in the eye, not even Sokka or Katara, without feeling guilty. Overwhelming shame and burden, despite them not holding what happened to Zuko against me.

           But I was also lying to them, not telling them the truth of what happened that terrible day, the extent of my bending.

           “I was so mean to you, and I’m sorry.”

           “Yue-” Aang sniffled, and I felt his arms wrap around my body, pulling me into a tight embrace.

           I let my head snuggle in between his neck and shoulder, chest rising and falling between my heavy breaths as Aang fussed into my ear. His lips pressed against my head, a smile dancing as he held me close. A whole week I went without a single hug from anyone, without any form of affection. I was forcing myself into complete isolation beside any business meetings.

           To have someone hold me close made me realize how lonely I felt. How much I wanted a hug – to be held.

           “I’m sorry too. I should’ve have lost my temper like that. I just-” Aang started, pulling away slightly, our gazes meeting as we stood close. I saw how round his eyes were, cheeks a pleased flush as he spoke. “I can’t stand seeing you hurting yourself, Yue. Take all the blame and hurt when you deserve to be happy.”

           “I just want Zuko to be safe.” I sighed, raising my hand against my nose for the hundredth time today. Aang hummed knowingly, “Come on, I’ll walk you to the infirmary, and then I’ll let you be.”

           “A-actually, Aang…” I stuttered, cheeks turning rosy, “Can you come with me? I-I don’t want to do this alone.”

           The way Aang beamed as if I told him that Appa could, in fact, fit inside the Kingdom and sleep in the same room as Katara, him, and Momo. He let his hand rest over the small of my back, glowing ear to ear.

           “I would love to go with you, Yue.”

           I stepped back from his caring touches, taking a deep breath as I looked down at the card that sat in my hand. The red of the paper practically radiating under the dim candlelight of the Kingdom. The last thing I’ll ever do for Kiyi-

           “We should hurry,” Aang spoke sympathetically, “You look exhausted, but I know seeing Zuko is important for you, Yue.” I could feel the way he put light pressure on the tips of fingers, nudging me gently. Within seconds I found ourselves walking, Aang letting his staff twirl in his grip as he watched over me out of the corner of his brown eyes.

           With every step we took, the beating of my heart grew.

           Blood rushing, skin warm as goosebumps rose.

           Despite the chill air of the night, I was sweating, the sound of paper rattling between my grasp embarrassingly loud as we marched. The mental gymnastics that ran through my head, torn between running to Zuko’s side or hiding in the comforts of my blankets. I want to see Zuko so bad, but what if Mai is right? That he doesn’t love me anymore, and the last thing he wants is a visit from me.

           My lip rolled between my teeth, letting my gaze wander to our right as we turned the corner. For a split moment, I saw how the turtle ducks huddled together in the pond. The babies adorable squished together heads resting over each other, as their parents loomed over them. A family…

           “Don’t think for a second Zuko doesn’t want you there with him,” Aang spoke.

           I titled my head, snapping my gaze towards him.

           Aang continued walking ahead, the grand wooden doors before us a few steps away. People with crosses embordered on their sleeves, walking in and out of those doors. The air around them was calm, but I could tell a few of them looked surprised to see us this late in the night.

           “You really think…Zuko wants me there, Aang?” I whispered.

           I could hear Aang snort, giving me a side look filled with personality. “Yue, I didn’t want to say this…” He started, and by then, my head was spinning, realizing that right before us was the entrance.

           Aang’s hand rested over the door, look heavy as he slowly faced me, “Katara told me that sometimes Zuko whispers your name in his sleep.”

           My bottom lip quivered, hearing those words, Aang’s hand dragging along the wood. But he wasn’t finished, laughing lightly as he seemingly remembers the conversation between him and Katara. “Every time he says your name, he smiles. Katara said it was creepy seeing him that happy.”

           I couldn’t help but giggle, rubbing my eyes with the ends of my sleeves imaging it.

           From first-hand experience, I already knew that Zuko was prone to smiling during his sleep. Also, prone to holding me to close to his chest so that the slightest movement from me caused his arm to lock, holding me in place. And don’t forget about sniffing my hair, whispering ‘vanilla’ under his breath far too many times to count.

           Tugging on my sleeves, now stained with wet droplets, Aang glowed from above, “Now, Yue, you make do with that information as you will. But I think we both know what it means.”

           “Aang…” I breathed between my stuffy nose; voice soft.

           “Yes, Yue?”

           “I-I’m ready.”

           “Let’s go then, Princess.” Aang teased with a cheeky smile, pushing the door.

           The door creaked, the high pitch noise sounding louder than usual, given how quiet the palace hallways were at the time. Right away, the nurses who were busily working inside turned their heads towards our direction, shooting us enormous smiles. They waved excitedly, energy-filled in their actions.

           “A beautiful night, Imperial Consort,” they happily sang, before going back to work.

           I pressed a smile to my face, whispering my soft greetings as I pressed the card closer to my chest. I couldn’t help but notice how clammy my palms were, if it weren’t for Aang’s guidance, I would’ve undoubtedly froze in place at the door.

           My eyes scanned the area, the chandlers lighting up the large room, the grand windows opened, and curtains pushed back to allow the calming breeze from outside to enter. Fresh flowers and bright paintings decorated the space as a means to keep the atmosphere up and going. And the further I walked, taking in every detail, down to the colours of the candles, I couldn’t help but wonder.

           Was this how Zuko felt that time when I was in here?

           Just as nervous, anxious, to see me after the waterfall incident? I could recall how flustered Zuko appeared. A look of exhaustion washing over him as he stood before me. The way he rushed to my side, cupping my face before placing a kiss of pure desperation over my lips- my cheeks flushed.

           Why would I think of something like that right now?

           Aang’s hand fell over my back once more, rubbing gently as I jumped in my spot.

           “He’s over there, behind that curtain, where the guards are,” Aang spoke, nudging me where he pointed with his chin. As if they heard, the guards carefully lifted their helmets, bowing slightly with warm smiles before moving off to the side. Their helmets fell back over their faces, quietly discussing amongst themselves, giving us space and privacy.

           My knees were wobbling; every step I took felt like rocks were tied to the soles of my feet, the ground sand as I struggled to move. The reality of the whole situation hitting me all at once. You’re fine, Yue.

           This is fine, you’re fine-

           The curtain that isolated Zuko from the rest was now right before me. A dark velvety red fabric, dragons imprinted all over. The point at which the curtains met swayed lightly with the incoming breeze, and I could feel my breath catching when I spotted the end of a metal bed through the momentary crack.

           He’s right here, right behind this curtain-

           My hand reached naturally, fingertips feeling the soft fabric slip in between each digit. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, the overwhelming need, want, to see Zuko.  I missed him so much.

           I need him; I want to see him-

           Hastily, I drew the draping back, the curtain swaying dramatically with my movement. I clenched the card tightly to my chest, eyes rapidly scanning the space, and just like that, my arm limply dropped to my side. My shoulders slumped, body shuddering, hand falling over my mouth as an uncontrollable sob erupted from me.

           “Yue?” Aang worried from behind me, his hands squeezing over me with care.

           It was at that moment I realized I wasn’t moving, too busy studying over the handsome sleeping figure before me – Zuko.

           His long black hair was neatly brushed and scattered over the scarlet pillow he rested upon, hands over his heart as his chest rose and fell with every breath. The way the moonlight shined through the large windows behind him, painting his skin with a heavenly aura – almost spirit-like.

           Those pink lips of his that I adored were parted, loveable sighs leaving him as his head slightly leaned to the side. It was like last week never happened, his expression so peaceful, sleeping without a worry in the world. The red blanket that laid over his body stopped short of his chest, his milky skin bare.

           Zuko- he looked healthy.

           Part of me imagined Zuko’s appearance to have withered slightly. His face to have sunken, cheekbones prominent, and his physique smaller. How wrong was I. Zuko looked like he gained weight – shoulders broader than usual, the divots on his arms from where his muscles lined abnormally defined. He was even freshly shaven, skin clear and dewy.

           Small breathless giggles left me, unable to contain the relief of seeing Zuko looking nothing short of perfect.  “Yue-” Aang voiced once again, and this time I turned on my heel to look at him.

           “He’s okay.” I cried, and Aang’s expression softened the moment he realized why I was crying.

           I wasn’t shedding tears because I was upset but relieved.

           Zuko looked so healthy, completely untouched, as I wiped my nose messily on my sleeve. “K-Katara took such good care of him; I owe her so much. I-I couldn’t have healed him as well as her if it weren’t for you and the Gaang being there for him-”

           Aang’s hand brushed my face, cleaning my cheeks to the best of his ability as I let my tears flow. “I told you, Yue. We’re family. We love Zuko too. If you think Katara was going to let her best friend fall ill because some bad guys wanted to hurt you, you doubt our bonds.”

           I smiled, choking as I sniffled, turning my head back to Zuko. He looked so happy, “T-thank you. For everything. For coming with me.”

           “I’ll always be here, Yue. Now give him that card. He may be knocked out cold, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to see it when he wakes up.” Aang happily blubbered, standing at the far corner as I carefully made my way around the bed.

           I couldn’t pull my gaze away from Zuko, watching him as he slept, it felt like my heart was going to burst. Was it creepy to stare at Zuko this excitedly while he slept? Probably, but I couldn’t stop myself. I missed him so much.

           Carefully I rose the card, lips moving silently as I cumbersomely. “Katara told me that he could most likely hear us, Yue…I bet he would love to hear your voice.”

           My voice…?

           “Z-Zuko.” I shakily started, carefully placing the beautiful handcrafted card on the wooden table that stood right beside him. A few vials and bowls of water with towels laid there – tools for Katara whenever she was healing or checking up on Zuko quickly at her aid. If it weren’t for Katara’s Waterbending skills, who knows what would’ve happened to Zuko.

           “Zuko.” I breathed once again, smiling softly as I inched my way closer to Zuko’s bedside.

           I watched as Zuko’s eyes moved under his shut eyelids at the sound of my voice so close to his body, a deep sigh, leaving him for a moment as he continued sleeping. My hand outstretched over his, hovering, fighting the temptation to feel his skin against mine.

           “K-Kiyi made a card for you; she misses you….” I whispered, and I saw the way Zuko’s expression changed the more I talked. His brows pinched together slightly as his head tossing towards me side, another long exhale leaving him. It was like in his sleep he was searching for my voice, his fingers tightening its hold on the blankets that laid over him.

           I weakly smiled, and without thinking, my hand rested of his.

           “I miss you,” I whispered, tears falling down my face as I anxiously held my breath.

           The greed took over, my fingers dance over his soft skin, basking in the warmth. It was like a current ran through me the moment our hands touched, the sense of familiarity and happiness bursting at the seams.

           “I miss you so much. I miss your hugs and cuddles and smiles, and-” I had to stop talking, struggling as my words rushed. My digits laced with his, my skin tingling, butterflies in my stomach from being so close to Zuko after so long.

           “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me, I’m sorry for not telling you the truth. I’m sorry I didn’t do more.” I cried as I let my other hand wander, trailing up his chest to his neck. I winced, feeling the rough patch of skin nestled at the base of his neck. There was a small scar now, a darkened patch of skin from where I sliced.

           Forever a reminder, and I swear I could feel the scar that rested along my jaw tingle.

           “I promised myself that I would never hurt you…” I whimpered, leaning over his bed, unable to stop the temptation to get closer. My hands cupped his face, thumbs caressing his pouting lips. “I promised Iroh, your mom, Kiyi, everyone that I would take care of you. I made that vow to myself the moment I met you.”

           My eyes fluttered shut, face rosy, all self-restraint gone.

           Leaning over his body, hair falling over our faces as my lips gently brushed over his. The feeling of his soft, plump lips pressed against my swollen ones, tears tumbling over his skin.

           “I hope you find someone who can keep that vow better than me, Zuko. Who will love you more than I ever could. Who will bring out that stunning twinkle in your eyes. I want you to be happy Zuko…”

           “Yue.” I heard Aang cry, and I carefully pulled back, noticing the way my salty tears dripped down Zuko’s cheek, tainting the stark burn on his face.

           “One last kiss.” I dejectedly cried, taking a step back, my fingertips grazing his skin before leaving. The moment my touch left him, I could feel my heart ache, hands cupping my mouth as I tried my toughest to shush my tears.

           “What do you mean by one last kiss, Yue?” Aang worriedly questioned, stepping closer to my trembling figure.

           It’s time I come clean.

           “I-I never you, what Mai said to me.” I sobbed, and I could feel Aang’s arms wrap around me, holding me close to his chest as his hands ran up and down my back. He cradled my face into his neck, shaking his head at my words, “What did she tell you, Yue?”

           “S-she said that the reason Zuko got hurt is because of me.” I started, spluttering harder as my sight became filled with nothing more but tears. “I-if I leave, t-then Zuko will be safe. No harm will be done.”

           “Yue, you can’t believe her, she could be lying for all we know-”

           “But what if she isn’t, Aang?” I huffed, pulling away to stare at him.

           Tears swelled in Aang’s eyes, wiping his face with the back of his hand heatedly as he looked down at me. “Maybe she is lying, Aang. But I prefer to take the risk, then have Zuko get hurt again because of me.”

           “I-if you leave, Yue.” Aang broke, his voice cracking as the grip on my body tightened. “Zuko would look under every damn rock for you. Go to the ends of the world looking for you. You think he’s going to let you go, Yue? Walk out of his life after how much you’ve changed him?” Aang argued expression hurt as he took in a shaky breath.

           “Zuko loves you so much. I shouldn’t even tell you this, but Zuko is already thinking of a hundred and one ways to propose! He told me that he wants kids, he wants a family, asking me what good diapers- damnit Yue!” Aang huffed, pulling me back into a tight embrace as we cried silently together.

           “This whole week, you’ve pushed us away, carried the burden of that knowledge. You wanted to see Zuko today, not because you stopped blaming yourself, but because you wanted to say goodbye.”

           “I don’t want to go, Aang, but I don’t want Zuko to hurt anymore.”

           “You’re going to hurt him by leaving.”

           “But, I’ll be hurting him more if I stay.”

           I pulled away slightly, looking to my side to watch as Zuko laid in bed. The tranquil expression on his face at the moment, I couldn’t have wished for a better lasting appearance to see. Every memory we shared, forever locked in my heart for years to come, because no one can steal those recollections away from me.

           “I thought Zuko was the one, Yue,” Aang whispered into my ear, and I rubbed my nose, smiling to myself. “Zuko is the one for me, always will be. But I’m not the one for him. I don’t think I ever was…”

           “So, is this it? Are you just going to leave us? Me, Katara, Sokka, Hakoda-”

           I winced, shutting my eyes as I shook my head, “I’ll leave as soon as Zuko wakes up. I made a promise that I’ll take care of the kingdom for him, and I want to keep at least one promise.”

           “Where will you go, Yue? I-we-but-” Aang raged internally, stepping back before running his hands over his hand. His fingers pressed against the skin of the blue arrow along his head, expression panicked. I could tell from the look in his eyes that his mind was swirling, unable to focus.

           Carefully, I stepped towards Zuko, grabbing the blanket that laid over him, and lifting it. I tucked the warm fabric, snuggling under his chin, a bittersweet smile painting my face as I took in Zuko’s features one last time. “I love you, Zuko, I can’t even begin to express my feelings. There aren’t enough letters in the alphabet to string together a word strong enough to tell you how much I love you.”

           I pulled away, letting my hands clasp together, nails causing crescents into my palms as I swallowed back the next wave of weeping. “And I want you to know, Zuko, that no matter how much you hate me, are angry at me, I’ll still love you. That will never change.”

           Turning on my heel, I faced Aang, whose face was swollen, nose a bright red as he weakly grabbed the staff he let rest on the wall.

           “I-I think it’s time I go to bed now…” I quietly spoke, and Aang nodded, using the tip of his stick to pull back the curtains to lead to the outside world. But he didn’t move right away, his eyes locked with mine.

           “Aang?” I asked, and he sighed, forcing a smile on his face.

           “I can’t stop you from leaving, Yue. This is your choice, your journey. But I hope you know that while everyone may be nervous once they learn about your bending, you’re still you. You’re still Sokka and Katara’s sister, Toph’s drinking partner, Suki’s shopping pal, and my best friend.”

           “Thank you, Aang.”

           “I’ll take you to your room, and I hope tomorrow, by some miracle, you realize that Zuko will love you, regardless of how you view yourself. And that you have every right to stay here with Zuko, and have the family you always dreamed of.”

           I could feel my heart swell, Aang outstretching his hand towards me, a poignant smile on his face. Right away, I grabbed his cold hand, our fingers intertwining, letting ourselves relish in the bittersweet moment. His hand squeezed tightly, before beginning to move, and I looked over my shoulder quickly.

           “Goodbye, Zuko.” I hummed, taking in the finest of details as if I didn’t already know each and every mark on his skin—the shape of his nose and lips, even his ears. But my eyes narrowed, only noticing too late the fresh tear running down Zuko’s cheek.

           A tear that was undoubtedly not present a moment ago.

           My feet stuttered, and as I eagerly tilted my head to get a better look, to make sure it was not my eyes playing tricks, but it was too late. The thick curtain shut, red flooding my vision. This is really it; I said my goodbye.

           Without any of other words spoken between Aang and me, we walked side by side, our hands swinging as Aang silently guided me to my room. The nurses and guards all said their share of goodnights, not daring to ask as to why our cheeks were as red as could be, our voices coarse and eyes puffy.

           Tiredly, we inched our way down the hallway, rubbing my face as I took in every nuisance of the kingdom. How many more days do I have left, walking down this hallway before I go? Soon the I won’t ever hear the clicking of my heels when I stroll in the mornings or the happy greetings of the servants.

           We turned the corner, my eyes lighting up as I spotted two guards at the front of my bedroom—two people who I knew far too well at this point. I turned to face Aang, our eyes meeting. An unspoken connection hitting us both as Aang drew me in for one last hug.

           “Goodnight, Yue. And how I hope, more than anything, I see you in the morning.” He wished before pulling away. We shared one last look before he begrudgingly turned on his heel. His yellow robes flowed behind him as he let his staff dance in his grip, eagerly walking towards the waiting arms of his dearest lover. Bringing my arms up to my chest, I hugged myself.

           Thank you.

           “Imperial Consort Ying Yue?” two voices spoke, causing me to twirl.

           With their helmets now off, I couldn’t hide the short moment of happiness seeing them this late at night. It really is them- “Ah, hello, friends~!” I sung, waving with a small yawn as I inched my way towards them.

           They smiled back, but I couldn’t help but notice how forced their smiles seemed, their bodies tensed as they shared anxious looks. I pouted, tilting my head to the side as I looked around. Aang was already long gone, no one in sight. What could be upsetting them?

           “Is everything alright?” I asked curiously, and I had to raise a brow at the way they nudged each other in the stomach.

           “You tell her.”

           “No, you do.”

           “I didn’t let her enter.”

           “She’s a Princess; I can’t exactly say ‘no.’ And you were there with me, why didn’t you say anything?” They bickered with each other. My head snapped back and forth, watching how they grumbled under their breath, like two school children bickering. It was literally like watching Katara and Sokka fight, just older and from the Fire Nation.

           I let out a small giggle, shaking my head, children.

           “Can someone, please, tell me? I promise I won’t get mad.” I urged, crossing my arms over my chest. At the sound of my voice, they stilled, nervously shifting in their spots. I gave them a look, and that seemed to do the trick. Both of blurting out what they didn’t want to say, “Princess Kiyi is inside your bedroom. She says she wants to sleep in your bed.”

           My eyes widen at the news, staring at the large bedroom doors.

           K-Kiyi?

           I opened my mouth, only to close it once more.

           This was strange.

           Kiyi was undoubtedly a cuddlier, loved to spend time with everyone and anyone. The star of the show, able to capture the hearts of many with her positive and addictive attitude. Sometimes Zuko would go to her room and read books before she went to bed, often coming back to the bedroom and telling me how these children’s books were ‘cringy.’

           But to have her, in our bed, saying that she wants to stay the night had me in a whirlwind. It was so unlike her. She loved snuggling, but she was one independent cookie – one who went to the beat of her own drum. Processing their words, both of them gawking over me, trying to figure out if I was upset at the news.

           “Did she give a reason why she wished to stay?” I asked, and they nodded eagerly, “Something about a card?”

           “Oh-”

           “We can go and ask her to leave, Imperial Consort, we shouldn’t have let her stay in the first place-”

           “No,” I spoke up, raising my hand and gently placing it over theirs.

           Their breathing hitched, unsure if I was about to get upset, but I quickly flashed a smile. Shaking my head because suddenly, it made sense, remembering the sad smile on Kiyi’s face from this morning when she spoke about Zuko.

           She was just as upset and worried as everyone else about the whole situation. Just because she was a child, and didn’t know all the details regarding the situation, didn’t mean she didn’t pick up on the depressive tone from us all. Just like how I needed a hug, I bet Kiyi needed one too.

           “Do me a favour, please, and let Lady Ursa know that Kiyi is with me tonight. To send a maid in the morning to wake us, so she goes to school on time.”

           They both nodded, letting out a breath, “We’ll go right now, Imperial Consort.”

           “Thank you. Have a nice night.”

           “You too.” They smiled before bowing.

           I turned on my heel, facing the bedroom doors, my hands falling over it. With one fluid movement, I eased my way inside, only for the corners of my lips to curve upwards.

           What a sight.

           There Kiyi sat, in the middle of Zuko and I’s bed, pillows around her as she held the teddy bear Zuko gave me tight to her chest. The blankets were perfectly nestled under her chin, her beady eyes glowing under the warmth of the candles. “Button?” I cooed, and I could hear Kiyi enthusiastically squirm under the sheets.

           “I was waiting; it’s past bedtime.” She smugly retorted, and while I didn’t see the look on her face, I already knew she had a huge grin.

           “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that this room here I’m pretty sure doesn’t belong to you.” I teased, stepping inside as I let the door shut behind me. With ease, I pulled at the elastic that held my hair into a high pony, mewling with delight as it fell. All the tension in my scalp, releasing as my hair draped over my shoulders.

           Kiyi watched in awe as she sat up, her mouth hanging, “Your hair is so long and pretty.”

           “Compliments won’t work on me, button.” I pestered, grabbing one of Zuko’s old T-shirts that was draped at the end of the bed.

           With the shirt in hand, I eased my way to the bathroom, letting the door open just a crack, so I could hear the way Kiyi buzzed on the other side. My hand rubbed the back of my neck, another yawn escaping me before my eyes settled over the mirror, taking in my appearance for the first time in a while.

           I looked exhausted.

           The dress I wore seemed oddly loose about my hips, fingers a bit boney, and cheeks sullen. Dark circles under my eyes and back aching from hunching over the desk all day, staying up all night only to wake up bright and early. I let my hands run through my hair, trying my best to shake out the tangles, too tired to brush.

           With a tired sigh, my fingers danced to the front of my dress, beginning to undress.

           “Yue, where did you get this teddy? He’s so cute.” I heard Kiyi gush and laughed softly. “Who do you think, button?” I responded, letting the red fabric fall onto the floor.

           My hands grasped Zuko’s old shirt, easily squirming my body into it. It was massive in size, stopping near my thighs as it bagged over my body comfortably. His warm spice-like scene still etched into the fabric, like cinnamon.

           “Was it Zuzu?” Kiyi shouted, and I happily smiled with closed eyes, “You bet it.”

           In a matter of minutes, I cleaned myself up, patting my face dry with a towel and wiped the last drop of my cream onto my leg. My hand reached for the door, ready to step out, but I stilled for a split moment, catching a glimpse of myself once more in the mirror. A sad smile reaching my eyes knowing that I saw Zuko today, even if it were for the last time.

           As long as you’re safe, Zuko, that’s all that matters

           “Which side do you want, button?” I questioned, forcing my pitch to be higher than usual, a weak attempt to appear cheery. With my hands on my hips, I stopped at the foot of the bed, gazing over at Kiyi with tender eyes.

           Kiyi brought a finger to her lip as if thinking deeply of the question. Her cute brows scrunching up before her lighting up unexpectedly, “Where do you sleep?”          

           “On the right,” I answered, and Kiyi grinned.

           “Then I want to sleep right-” Kiyi droned before rolling underneath the blankets and stopping abruptly, “here.” I giggled at Kiyi’s silliness, taking note where this little ball of trouble decided to sleep.

           “As you wish, button.” I hummed under my breath before walking towards the left side of the bed.

           My fingers dragged along the warm covers, eyes setting over the pillow and nightstand that rested. The unfinished book Zuko had left sitting over the table, the candles still fresh and unused for the past week until today. And while Kima and Lia even dusted his side, creating the illusion as if space has been used, I swallowed back the sadness.

           I didn’t dare touch this side once, opting to curl myself into a tight ball, sticking too far right.

           But now standing here, pulling the heavy covers back had me entering a joyful trance. If I thought wearing Zuko’s shirts gave me flashbacks of pure bliss, letting my body dip into the bed, head resting along his pillow had me turning pink. It felt like home, the closest I’ve been to him for days, and if it weren’t for Kiyi’s giggle, I would’ve laid here with a goofy smile plastered on my face for hours.

           I twisted my body, pulling the blankets over us as Kiyi wiggled her way closer to my body. Her legs wrapped themselves with mine, letting my arm drape over her frame as she rested her head on my shoulder. My lips danced along with her temple, placing a sweet kiss, “So button, tell me, something. Why did you come to my bed tonight?”

           I heard Kiyi shyly huff, before mumbling softly, “Because I miss Zuko…”

           A low sigh escaped me, placing another chaste kiss over her. “He misses you too, button. I know when he gets up, he’s going to give you tons of hugs and kisses, especially after that card.” I cooed against her forehead, hand caressing her face.

           Kiyi sniffled, nodding slightly as she tugged the blankets closer to her body. I could tell based on the way her body didn’t squirm as much anymore, that sleep was starting to get the best of her. I wonder how far it is past her bedtime? Hopefully, she gets the rest she needs.

           “Yue…” Kiyi quietly spoke, her voice so low that I had to force myself to hear her properly. “Do you ever get lonely without Zuzu around?”

           My mouth opened at her question, pulling her body closer to me as I thought. I’ve never felt lonelier in my life until now.

           “Of course, Button, but guess who decided to surprise me in my bed, it’s like a cuddle party.” I chirped under my breath, trying to keep my tone down. Kiyi giggled feebly at my answer before a tiny yawn left her lips.

           I rose a brow at the adorable yawn that left her, reminding me of the cute sighs Zuko was letting go as he slept. “Is someone tired?” I whispered, and I could hear her pout.

           “No…I-I can stay up a bit longer...” Kiyi argued tiredly, but as I pulled back, I snickered under my breath.

           Kiyi’s eyes were droopy, struggling to stay open as she snuggled the teddy bear close to her chest. I let my hand brush her black locks behind her ears, carefully moving her head from my shoulder onto my pillow. Without much protests, just a tiny whine, Kiyi curled into a ball, head sinking into the cushion.

           “I love you, Yue.” She whispered sleepily, and I beamed, tucking the blankets under her chin. “I love you too, button. Thank you for always bringing a smile to my face.” I hummed, before slowly inching my way back, sitting upright for a brief moment to blow out the candles that lit the space.

           The room darkened, only the moonlight seeping through the curtain, casting shadows. But this time, the shadows – didn’t feel as scary.

           I pulled the covers over my body, settling onto my side as I let my arm drape over Kiyi’s resting figure. My heart twisted into knows, joy filling my soul, as the light from the moon cast just enough illumination for me to see the tranquil expression on Kiyi.

           My hand rose, gently caressing her chubby cheeks, her lips parting as her breathing evened out. She’s precious. Soft snores escaping her as she snuggled deeper into my hold, blankets enveloping her body.

           “Goodnight, button,” I whispered into her messy hair, my own eyes falling shut.

           I don’t want to leave. Not Kiyi, or the Gaang, Iroh or Ursa…

           But most importantly, I don’t want to leave Zuko.

           My breathing began to even out; mind spacing as my body felt heavy. Sleep beginning to consume my body, enjoying the way my muscles relaxed. How long has it been since I’ve been able to ease into such a calm state?

           Lost in the peace, the gentle sounds of the door opening, footsteps pattering was dismissed as nothing more but a dream. The current state of nirvana, mind floating, disregarding the way the blankets shifted over my body. Probably Kiyi getting comfy.

           Intuitively, I squirmed in my spot, bringing the covers closer to myself, head sinking into the pillow. A comforting warmth was spooning me from behind the further I fell into a deep sleep, as if two large arms were holding me from behind.

           I smiled softly because there wasn’t a doubt in my mind who I was dreaming of. The way their hands cupped my own – fingers rubbing my palms as their legs tangled with both mine and Kiyi’s.  

           “Zuko.” I weakly called, because the dream felt so real. As if he was right behind, his face pressed into my hair, his hot breath tickling my ear. Even his overwhelming firewood scent filled my scenes, eyes rolling to the back of my head despite my eyes shut because it was the smell of home.

           “Shh, baby. Just sleep, I got you.” I could hear him drone into my ear, my heart pounding because I could feel the way his chest rumbled from behind. It was crazy, how vivid this dream. But my body too tired, to relaxed, to move and make sure that I was in fact, dreaming, let the doubts in my mind go.

           Enjoy the dream, Yue. Your first happy dream in days.

           “Zuko…” I sighed in harmony, snuggling my body deeper into his embrace. Right away, the grip he had on my body tightened, cooing into my ear, “Yes, love?”

           “I’m…sorry. I don’t…I don’t want to go.”

           “Then don’t.” he quickly replied into my ear, a raspiness in his voice. I let out a small sniffle as I instinctively pulled his hand to my chest. “But…I…I want…you safe.”

           “I’m safe, right here, with you in my arms.”

           “I… I love you.”

           “I love you, too, Yue,” Zuko whispered once more before my mind drifted completely.

           And for the first time, in days, I slept.

           With the biggest smile on my face.

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten-Writer, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[doortotomorrow]

Memori AU / The Deal Breaker : Emori, pocketed in the furthest booth in the corner of the rowdiest bar in Polis, can’t stop fidgeting. The wall of sound made up of people’s conversations, clinking glasses, the servers in their all black uniforms coming and going through the kitchen carrying orders, the baseball game between the Arkadia Comets and the Trikru Warriors on the bar’s big TV, and the various people cheering for them was all doubly amplified like it was connected to a gigantic speaker thanks to her jittery nerves. 

Why, why, why, why did she agree to go on this blind date Echo strong-armed her into? Why did she go to so much trouble going to the beauty salon to get her hair and nails done? Why did she put so much of her time and effort into something she knew was going to end in an epic disaster? On an endless loop, she kept telling Echo the whole idea was stupid and pointless, and that nothing would come out of it...but here she was, in the bar, eyes focused keenly on the exit ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.

Emori places her thumb at the base of her throat, monitoring her rapid heartbeat. Goddamn it-her anxiety was spiking at the idea of meeting this complete stranger who would likely-

“Table 8?”

Emori’s eyes tear away from the fire exit and shoot upwards, finding herself face to face with the most attractive man she’d ever seen. He had vibrant, electric blue eyes which, even though they had never met before, seemed to look at her like he knew all her darkest, most intimate secrets. He owned a sharp, crisp jawline framed by a scruffy beard of dark brown whiskers that went along with a mop of soft hair Emori could see herself running her fingers through at the end of the night. He was wearing an oversized, dark grey sweater over his lanky, yet well toned body and Emori hopes her swooning isn’t too obvious yet.

“John Murphy?” Emori asks, tapping a nervous thumb on her beer tankard, finally working up enough nerve to use her voice box.

“Afraid so,” he responds, pulling out the chair across from her and sitting down.

‘I’m in so much trouble here,’ Emori thinks, laughing at his joke. God, she couldn’t resist a man who makes her laugh, and he looked like he had ample material.

“So you’re Emori, huh? Echo was definitely right,” Murphy hums, leaning back in his chair to give her a once over with his soft, tender gaze. Emori’s face flames, not at all used to a man giving her these kinds of looks, her breathing hastening in response.

“Right...about what?” Emori interjects, giving him a bewildered look.

“How beautiful you are. Seriously, you’re a knockout,” Murphy comments, his own face starting to get rosy red at admitting that out loud. “Hope that wasn’t too bold to say right out the gate, but I just had to say at least one smooth line before I got too much stage fright,” Murphy scratches the nape of his neck, fingers fiddling idly with the cleaning instructions tag sewn at the back of his sweater and offers her a shy, crooked grin. 

‘I think I’m in love,’ Emori’s heart sings in her chest, her anxiety lifting out of her body like a cartoon ghost, and begins making small talk with him, breaking the ice with some easy questions.

Small talk soon evolves into long, intense conversations about this, that, and so many other points of discussion. Both of them take note of all the things they share in common, whether it be small things like loving the same obscure bands and low budget horror movies, to the big stuff like how rough it was for them to grow up, connecting in a way that felt cosmic. They stayed there in the bar talking until last call, leaving the bar in tears laughing at each other’s silly jokes that no longer made sense to anyone but them. 

“You know...I would really like to take you home with me tonight,” Murphy throwing her his best bedroom eyes, pulls her into his arms and Emori stumbles on her feet, her deep well of insecurity causing her to pull away from him. Murphy’s breath catches in his throat, wincing at her supposed rejection, and tries his best not to let it show on his face. He overstepped.

“I know this sounds so predictable, but believe me, it’s not you-it’s something to do with me...and my condition,” Emori’s voice cracks, staving off the urge to cry as she favors her left arm with a few trembling strokes. Murphy tilts his head to the side, brow wrinkling in confusion at what she meant by ‘condition’. Being the kind of guy who likes to press the big red button, he needs to know what it is and why it’s making her so withdrawn.

“Condition?” 

“I didn’t want to show you because everything was going super well tonight and we were having a good time, and when guys I date see this, they usually bolt, so...here it is-at your own risk,” Emori says, stripping her left hand of the black silk glove, revealing her hand with its fused, elongated digits to Murphy, fully expecting him to start sprinting in the opposite direction.

Instead, the most shocking, most incredible, most miraculous thing happens. Without saying a word and with a look of firm conviction on his features, he reaches out to hold onto it, fingertips featherlight over her fingers as Murphy brings it to his lips to plant the most delicate kiss on her palm. Emori’s body surges with the most pleasant electric shock, the air knocked out of her lungs as her eyes fall on his filled with desire for her.

“It’s not a deal breaker for you?” Emori wonders out loud, her voice sounding so far away.

“If anything, it’s a deal maker. It’s badass,” Murphy full on swoons.

“You’re lying,” Emori tries to throw off his compliment, keeping things light to prevent herself from thinking about how real this was getting for her. That this absolutely wonderful, gorgeous man could actually be her next big something.

“Hey, hey, hey...Emori, look at me. Does it look like I’m lying?” Murphy says, cupping her face in his hands, not breaking eye contact with her to prove his point. Emori licks her lips, mind hazing over with a deepening desire to pull off his sweater over his head. Encouraged by his words, Emori wraps her arms around his neck, leaning up to whisper into his ear:

“So...about taking me home tonight.”