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classic-nicktoon-pictures · 2 months

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If I Ran The Zoo (Ren & Stimpy style)

Here's Dr. Seuss's If I Ran The Zoo (which is now out of print) in the style of Ren & Stimpy to celebrate Read Across America Day.

"If I ran the zoo," Ren declared to Stimpy with glee, "I'd turn it all 'round, just you wait and see. This zoo is okay," Ren said with a scoff, "But with us in charge, it'll be totally off!"

"The guy running it now," said Stimpy, a bit dazed, "He's proud of his zoo, but it's time it's crazed." Ren nodded and grinned, "It's time for a spree, To make this zoo wild, just like it should be."

"If I ran the zoo," said Ren, eyes wide with delight, "We'd toss out the norms and bring in the bizarre, just right. No more lions or bears, that's all old news, We'll fill it with other fine creatures we can choose."

"The lions and tigers, oh, how utterly drear, In this zoo right now, it's just so last year! Ren & Stimpy don't settle for the old, you see, We want something new, something wild and crazy!"

"I'd throw wide the gates, break every lock, Release all the animals in a wild shock. This would be our style, we'll start fresh and new, With beasts stranger still, in our crazy zoo!"

"A standard lion's mundane, not much of a thrill, The one in our zoo will give quite the chill! Ten feet, at least, on this feline's frame, Five on the left, five on the right, no two the same!"

Ren declared with a grin, Stimpy by his side, A lion like no other, on this wild ride. "People will gawk, and they'll shout in delight, 'What a peculiar lion, oh, what a sight!'"

Ren & Stimpy, the new zookeepers in town, Turning the old ways completely upside down. A lion with legs in multiples of five, A creature so odd, it's truly alive!

"People will stare, their jaws on the floor, At the strangest lion, they've never seen before. The Zoo Keeper, New Keeper, we'll be called so keen, For the gol-darndest lion, a sight to be seen!"

"My zoo, Ren & Stimpy Zoo, will turn heads around, A place so bizarre, where the strange are found. The oddest creatures that ever did waddle, In our zoo, where craziness is the model."

"I'll find, for my zoo, a peculiar bird of the day, Who nests on the tail of another, in a curious way. One on the tail of another, and another again, In an endless loop, a feathered chain."

Ren chuckled and said, "Not just any old bird, But a weird one, unheard, that's our word. A bird on the tail, in a stack that's tall, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, where oddities call."

Stimpy scratched his head, pondering the notion, "A bird on a bird, a chain in motion? Upward and onward, gee whizz indeed, Our zoo's the place for every peculiar breed!"

Ren nodded in agreement, with a sly little grin, In their zoo of wonders, where oddities win. "My New Zoo, Ren & Stimpy Zoo, the talk of the town, With creatures so strange, they'll never live down!"

"But that's just the kickoff, I'll aim for a feat, Next day in my hat, a zoo-keeper so neat. Entering the zoo with a grand, wild treat, Behold the Elephant-Horse, a creature so sweet!"

Ren grinned with pride, Stimpy by his side, A spectacle to behold, with the Elephant-Horse in stride. Surprising the crowd, making them all go numb, Asking, "Where does he find creatures that glum?"

"The faces so odd, on animals so rare, They must come from places bizarre, I declare. In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, the unusual graces, A collection hunted in the oddest of places!"

The Elephant-Horse paraded with grace, A creature so peculiar, the talk of the place. People gasped, their gum nearly swallowed, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, where the strange wallowed.

Ren chuckled and said, "They'll talk without cease, About our zoo's wonders, the oddities, the beast. My New Zoo, Ren & Stimpy Zoo, a sensation so hum, With creatures so strange, they'll never be done!"

"And that's my grand plan," declared Ren with a grin, "To catch walruses rare, where the cold winds begin. To places unknown, no others dare tread, In my Skeegle-mobile, with the chill overhead."

"You have to get cold, you have to get wet, To find walruses odd, a species not met. Up past the North Pole, where the icy winds squeal, In my Skeegle-mobile, I'll make a bold deal."

Ren & Stimpy ventured where few dared to roam, In search of walruses, their zoo's future home. Through frost and through snow, in the cold and the chill, To bring back a family, that's their thrill.

"Not just any walrus, a peculiar show, With tusks and with blubber, a what-do-you-know! That's how my New Zoo, Ren & Stimpy Zoo, will grow, In the frozen winds' howl, in the ice and the snow."

Ren smiled at Stimpy, "To the cold we'll be bound, In our Skeegle-mobile, a zoo to astound. Through the frost and the freeze, where the winds always blow, Ren & Stimpy's zoo, with walruses in tow!"

"I'll trek the heights of Zomba-ma-Tant, With helpers in pants so baggy, so avant. Capturing a fluffster, not Bustard but new, A bird that craves cheesecake, oh, how it'll do!"

Ren declared with zeal, Stimpy all set, In baggy pants, they embarked, no regret. A creature named Cheesetard, the talk of the hill, Eating cheesecake with relish, a flavor thrill!

"And also a beast, not the Flustard of yore, But the Pickletard, a creature to adore. Feeding on pickles with a sauce so sweet, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, a grand foodie feat!"

Through the mountains they hiked, with baggy pants swaying, Cheesetard and Pickletard, their zoo was displaying. Not mustard, but sweetness, a sauce so divine, In their zoo, where odd creatures always entwine.

"I'll snag 'em in caves, I'll snag 'em in creeks, In crannies and nooks, where the mystery peaks. Not in countries well-known, not in common lore, But in a realm like Bazzle-wa-Dazzle-more."

"In a place quite obscure, where the names twist and twirl, Like the country of Bazzle-wa-Dazzle-more, my new-found world. In a land so peculiar, if a hunter is clever, He'll discover odd beasts, like no one saw ever!"

Ren & Stimpy, the duo so keen, Ventured to Bazzle-wa-Dazzle-more, the unseen. Through caves and through brooks, in crannies they looked, In their zoo of wonders, where odd creatures are hooked.

"I'll fill up five boats with a herd of Boophers, With feet like giraffes, wearing bamboo-fur coofers. They'll sit like hippos but squawk like a loon, Excepting the high notes, they'll sing out of tune."

"And then I'll head down to the Isles of Vineyard-Martha, To capture a family of Squonks, a peculiar saga. In a bucket they'll go, in a wild endeavor, To join Ren & Stimpy's zoo, growing forever."

Ren smirked with glee, Stimpy by his side, Off to Vineyard-Martha, on this wild tide. A creature so odd, a Squonk in a pail, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, a bizarre tale.

"People will cheer, say 'That boy's quite a find, His New Zoo, Ren & Stimpy Zoo, expands the mind. He captures them wild, and he captures them meek, Slim and sleek, the collection is unique. What do you suppose he will capture next week?"

"I'll snag one petite. I'll snag one so sweet. A yak so delightful, no hunter would greet. A yak so charming, it could share your bed, If not for those horns, resting on its head."

"And talking of horns, a twist quite absurd, A family of deer, with antlers unheard. A father, a mother, two sisters, a brother, With separate antlers, like no other."

Ren chuckled and said, "Their antlers are wild, Not conjoined but mixed, a peculiar style. So tangled and twined, they can't tell them apart, Can't say where they end, can't say where they start."

Each deer was puzzled, in a horned disarray, Never knowing whose antlers were on display. A mystery to them, a horned enigma, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, a peculiar stigma.

"I'll nab them all chubby and some a bit bony, A high-stepping creature, a Desert Dervony. Fast as the wind, from the scorching Zind, A majestic steed, the chieftains would find."

Ren declared with a grin, Stimpy with pride, Off to the desert, where the winds ride. A creature so swift, in a wild sprint, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, a steed with a hint.

"This beast, oh, the beast, that chieftains adore, Riding swiftly to hide, a steed they implore. A Desert Dervony, in my zoo it'll prance, And a chieftain as well, in this wild dance."

Through the blistering sands, where the heat's unkind, Ren & Stimpy ventured, with the Desert Dervony they find. A steed so fine, and a chieftain so true, In their zoo, where the peculiar and the wild grew.

"In the wild Ignorama, in the north-eastern glow, Lives a creature so fine, known as the Lummox, you know. Not the Iota, but a beast of grander design, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, a wonder so fine."

Ren declared with a smirk, Stimpy by his side, Venturing to Ignorama, where the Lummox does bide. A creature so peculiar, in a region so grand, In their zoo of wonders, in the far-off land.

"People will marvel, by thunder, they'll say, This New Zoo, Ren & Stimpy Zoo, is a wonder today! With the Lummox so fine, in our collection so vast, In Ignorama's embrace, where the peculiar is cast."

"In lands of the Gritty Kitty, where danger may gleam, Some are too fierce, not fit for a dream. For those ugly and mean, with fur that is gritty, I'll construct a Gritty-Kitty-Catching-Machine."

Ren declared with a grin, Stimpy wide-eyed, A machine to catch Gritty Kitties, oh my! Expensive it might be, a pricey kit, But with it, no hunter will suffer a hit.

"It's a Gritty-Kitty-Catcher, so fine and so neat, For those nasty kitties with paws and with teeth. A machine to ensure no harm is near, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, where danger we clear."

"A zoo needs bugs," Ren said with a glare, "So, I'll grab a Twizzlebug, with legs in a snare. Then off I'll go, with a capturing glee, To snag some Snazzybugs, as odd as can be."

"Keen-shooter, mean-shooter, bean-shooter bugs, The Chomp-a-lots, with their mandibles in hugs. I'll round them up, with skill and with luck, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, where the bugs run amok."

"I'll voyage to the Asian island of Zanka, Bring home a Frizzle-crested Tropic Tonka. A bird so peculiar, with a neck quite long, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, where oddities throng."

"His neck stretches out, oh, what a sight, If he swallows an almond on a November night. It travels so slow, in a loop-de-loop, Reaching his stomach by the Fourth of June."

"I'll nab a grand bug, oh, it's quite thrilling, A critter with rotors, for soaring and chilling. A feller with a helicopter hat, From Texas to Boston, just imagine that!"

Ren grinned with delight, Stimpy full of cheer, Off to the skies, where the bug would appear. A bug with a chopper, making daring hops, In Ren & Stimpy's zoo, where excitement never stops.

"And after that feat, the next thing I'll seize, A wild Chess-Mate-Cat, with moves that please. X's that win and Zeros that lose, In Ren & Stimpy's Zoo, where oddity ensues."

Ren declared with pride, Stimpy by his side, Off to the wilds, where the Chess-Mate-Cat would abide. In their zoo of wonders, where games came alive, With creatures so odd, in a whimsical dive.

"I'll fetch a Hoggle, a Hoot, and a Hatcher, And also a Huff from the wilds of Hatchett. And eight Indian Princes will carry the basket, But their names, my dear, I'm afraid I can't grasp it."

"In a den in Zamkara lives a creature named Snatch, No other hunter dared to try to catch. Hidden for years with a grumpy old pout, No coaxing could make him venture out."

"But I've got a plan with a meal so divine, Cooked in Zamkara, in my cooker-shrine. My cooks will prepare, with culinary zeal, A feast for Snatch, to make him reveal."

"They'll craft a dish, just to his delight, Three bamboo dumplings, oh, a scrumptious bite. Sprinkled with bamboo shoots, pickled and spiced, Baked at 600 degrees, and then iced."

"It's a tricky endeavor to cook up such feasts, But that's how Ren & Stimpy Zoo welcomes its beasts. In Zamkara's land, where the oddities unfurl, With meals so unique, for each creature in the swirl."

"I'll venture to the distant Hills of Frosk, Near the Stream of Trobsk, where the winds briskly toss. And I'll bring back a Frub, a peculiar fellow, A kind of bird, a whatcha-ma-call-it, so mellow."

"This Frub feasts on cherries and pumpkin soufflé, A diet so odd, in an amusing display. People will gather at my zoo with great cheer, In a frenzy, they'll exclaim, 'Oh dear!'"

"'Hӧek,' they'll declare, 'does a marvelous task, Hunting with vim, and vigor, and with a flask. His New Zoo, Ren & Stimpy Zoo, so grand and so fine, Growing each day, like a fantastic vine!'"

"And, talking of birds, in the Chinese town of Xiàmǎtóu, There's the Mandarin Chaoji, with feathers so hue. Its head adorned in red, its belly in blue, I'll snag one for my zoo, oh yes, it's true!"

Ren declared with a smirk, Stimpy in tow, Off to China they went, where the Chaoji would show. In their Zooji Ren & Stimpyji, a feathered delight, A Mandarin Chaoji, a whimsical sight!

To Bazoo they sailed, with purpose and zest, A mission ahead, to capture the best. A doctor, a lawyer, a grue in the dark, A pilot, a nerd, and a Kwijibo lark.

Ren & Stimpy, the duo so keen, With nets and with tricks, their quarry unseen. They ventured to Bazoo, where the oddities brew, To gather their collection, a diverse crew.

A doctor with stethoscope, a lawyer in suit, A grue lurking in shadows, oh what a pursuit! A pilot with wings, a nerd with a book, And a Kwijibo, a creature with a peculiar look.

In Ren & Stimpy Zoo, their grand enterprise, A collection so varied, a true surprise. Bazoo's treasures, Ren & Stimpy knew, In their zoo, where the peculiar grew.

"I'll hunt in the Jungles of Rhino-no-Rompus, And bring back a troop of wild Racco-no-Rompus! The Racco-no-Rompus from Rhino-no-Rompus, Cheekier than those in Dacco-no-Dompus."

"Smarter than those out in Zacco-no-Zompus, That's why I'll catch 'em in Rhino-no-Rompus. In Ren & Stimpy Zoo, the peculiar unfolds, In the wild jungles, where the Raccos are bold."

"People will marvel, their eyes wide and rounding, This Zoo Keeper, New Keeper, simply astounding! He travels so far, you'd think he would drop, When will this young fellow ever stop?"

"Stop...? Well, I should, but I won't cease, Until I capture the Blizza-ma-Whizza-ma-Geese. The grandest fowl from the Island of Quark, They dine on pine needles, then spit out the bark."

"And oh boy! When I get them back to my domain, The whole world will shout, Mr. Hӧek's not plain! He's crafted a zoo, a marvel so stark, Greater than Noah's Ark!"

"These marvelous geese, with feathers so fine, Have made him the greatest of all the dogs and cats in line. In Ren & Stimpy Zoo, where oddities thrive, A legacy so grand, in a zoo that's alive!"

"Wow!" They'll all cheer, "a zoo of great girth! The most spectacular zoo on the face of the earth! With creatures so strange, a whimsical birth, In Ren & Stimpy's Zoo, a treasure trove's worth!"

"Yes... that's what we'd do," said Ren & Stimpy in glee, "We'd make a few changes if we ran the zoo, you see!" In their Ren & Stimpy Zoo, where wonders accrue, A zoo so peculiar, a whimsical debut!

#ren and stimpy #nickelodeon #read across america day #dr seuss #if i ran the zoo #gerald mcgrew

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1kook · 4 years

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imax & climax

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; jk is an avid history channel viewer, jk hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, jk goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

notes; there is no rest for the wicked, aka miss 1kook writes another part for this fic i swore wasn't gonna be a series except this time we ditch the gentlemen persona and go into maximum overdrive. its not proofread bc i wrote this entire thing at 4 am last night after inhaled a whole bucket of spicy popcorn

[ part 1 ; netflix & chill ] [ part 2 ; hulu & wohoo ]

Jungkook sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Jungkook’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

“You wanted it,” you announce rather pointedly in the car. He’s backing out of the parking space now, one hand on the wheel the other pressed to the side of your seat. His jaw twitches as he tries to maneuver around a stray shopping cart someone didn’t return to the retrieval area. He’s wearing that dark jumper you like, with the high collar that covers all of last night’s bruises up wonderfully.

Jungkook scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Jungkook greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

“Please don’t ever say that again,” he laughs, pulling to a stop at the next red light. He turns to level you with an easygoing grin, sparkly anime girl eyes extra shiny under the red glow. “Only want you to tickle my pickle.”

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Doyeon swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Doyeon, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Jungkook picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Jungkook’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Jungkook invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Jungkook not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Jungkook is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Jungkookie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Jungkook was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Jungkook rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Jungkook, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Jungkook’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Jungkook apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

She leaves a little after sunset, kissing and hugging the both of you on the doorstep like she’s going off to war and will never return. She’ll be back by the weekend, desperate to check on her baby boy, but you let her have her moment. It’s weird seeing how dramatic the Jeons are compared to how reserved Jungkook is.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Jungkook’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Jungkook laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

“Give it a rest,” he says, shifting you until he’s got you hugged between those stupidly strong arms of his. His pecs feel strong and comforting beneath your cheek, and the feeling makes your tiny pouting session end earlier than usual. “Come on,” he mumbles as he manhandles you around, until your back is pressed against his chest and you’re sitting between his legs. “Let’s watch this film on Mesopotamian folklore and its overall significance to the nations it birthed after its downfall.”

——

You rarely use the key Jungkook gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Jungkook’s house were either the result of Jungkook picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Jungkook inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

Today you’re alone, juggling two boxes of takeout and some cheap wine in one hand as you fight to unlock his door. He hadn’t answered his phone, which leads you to believe he’s holed himself up again in that damn study. He likes to do that sometimes, lock himself away like some modern day Rapunzel until he finishes whatever project he has this time around. When he gets like this, it’s like all other body functions are forgotten, his brain zeroed in on the lines of code you barely understand.

Just as you suspect, the house is too dark when you finally break in. The hall light is off, which isn’t out of the norm, but so are the kitchen and living room lights. You pad down the hall, flicking on the light to the living room to set down your offerings onto the edge of the coffee table. There’s a scrambled pile of notes on top that seem too disorderly to disregard. You whirl around, making to head back out into the hall and down to the study, when you see it.

A good 90 inches mounted on his wall. It’s a monstrosity of a screen, devouring nearly the entire surface of the wall, from stainless end to stainless end. It’s ridiculously thin in the way all modern TVs are, but this one is even more so given the fact you hadn’t registered it in your peripheral when you walked in. It’s just barely short of a Jumbotron, the kind they have at baseball games to make sure you can see every nose hair on the pitcher.

His mom was going to kill him.

“Jungkook?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Jungkook had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

There’s a soft hum down the hall, the sound slipping beneath the bottom gap in the door frame. You make a beeline for the room, oddly unsettled with the huge screen. The door gives way, exposing your boyfriend’s hunched back and the blue light from his monitors that highlights his frame. “Hi, sweetie,” you begin, inching over to him.

“Hi,” he sighs, leaning back into your touch when you step behind him. His dark eyes are weary from staring at his tablet for too long, his usual tender expression melted into one of mild irritation. “Can’t figure this out,” he says, tapping his stylus against one line of absolute nerd gibberish you don’t bother trying to decipher. Maybe another day you would have entertained him, but today you cherish this moment with him knowing it might be his last before his mom comes over and kills him.

“Sounds like break time to me!” Your proclamation makes him frown, a frustrated groan pulling itself from his lips. His head droops forward again, chin touching his chest. But there’s a hint of relief in his groan that tells you all you need to know. “Baby needs a break,” you smile, pressing a peck against the back of his head.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, Kook, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Namjoon would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Jungkook goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Jungkook doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

He stretches his arms out, moaning something sinful at the way his bones pop. “It adds to the experience,” he says. “Movies are more enjoyable when the pictures are bigger; a tall aspect ratio and stadium seating really add to the experience.” He was such a nerd.

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Jungkook’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Jungkook doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “Kook, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Jungkook’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Too bad you’re evil and determined. “No! We are watching the Princess and the Pauper and that’s final,” you exclaim, scrambling for the movie before he can hurl it out the window. He catches you by the waist, your fingers just an inch away from the pink case. “Babe!” you cry, but his fingerprints are bruising their way into your skin.

“No more Barbie movies,” he begs, yanking you back onto his lap. He does so with so much force that it makes the two of you tumble to the side, your head bouncing on the cushions as he catches himself over you. “Please.”

“I hate you,” you fuss, pointedly ignoring the tiny mole beneath his lip that drove you crazy. “We’ve seen every single thing on the History Channel this week, but we can’t watch one Barbie movie?”

Jungkook sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

“First of all, her name is Annaleise in this movie,” you correct, squirming beneath him to no avail. “Secondly, how do you think I feel when you’re eating me out while some old British dude narrates the creation of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon?”

Jungkook scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Jungkook sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Jungkook crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

He doesn’t move, and you’re about to begin another tirade against his snobby movie critiquing habits when he procures a sleek, tiny remote that you would honestly mistake for an iPhone from a distance. It has, no joke, about seven buttons max, four of which are just the up and down, left and right arrows. You let out a low whistle at that. Wow. Technology sure was advancing.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Jungkook’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Jungkook quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Jungkook clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Jungkook will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Jungkook is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Jungkook has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Jungkook scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

He doesn’t let you argue, which is good, because you could make a thirty five slide PowerPoint presentation on the advantages of watching movies like this. One, your boyfriend was warm. Two, your boyfriend smelt good. Three, your boyfriend’s ripped body awoke some ancient being inside of you that would not rest until his cock was halfway down your thro—

He hauls you into his lap. The angle forces you to let him go, instead met with the jarring nothingness of having his hot body ripped away. Meanwhile he gets to wrap you up in his arms, hold you like a teddy bear to his chest. “I hate this,” you huff, but the movie is already starting, the beautiful blonde Anneliese appearing on screen. You lean back against his chest, pout still evident. “This is ridiculous,” you snort, her face blown up on this jumbo screen.

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Jungkook falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

As much as you hate to admit it, the huge screen does incite quite a thrill in you. There’s something so nostalgic about watching one of your favorite childhood movies on a screen this huge. The size showcases the sheer perfection that is every single Barbie movie. You lose yourself in the movie, singing along to the opening song and growing agitated when the antagonist appears.

Jungkook says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Jungkook gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He lets out an indignant noise, a puff of air running along the side of your face. You ease his hands back over your stomach, taking extra care to knot your fingers with his. “We’re supposed to be breaking in your new screen,” you remind him, glancing up to catch his unimpressed expression.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Jungkook sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

The back of your mind registers the fact he was apparently trying to get a TV even bigger than this. You tuck it away for later to snitch to his mom. For now, you’d very much appreciate it if he could make you cum before the two girls perform the iconic “I Am a Girl Like You” song.

His hands are so smooth, soft skin tracing over your body like you were nothing but a slab of clay ready to be molded under his touch. He abandons your thighs to creep them under your shirt, where he wastes no time tugging the cups of your bra down to fondle your breasts.

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Jungkook laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Jungkook teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Jungkook has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

“Where do you think it should go?” he asks, the low hum of his voice snapping you out or your thoughts. There was no need to daydream about a cock that was right in front of you. His hands slow their gentle caress over you, fingers closing in on your nipples.

A sharp hiss pulls itself from your throat, chest arching as he tugs and toys with your hardened nipples. “Wh-Wherever,” you pant, reaching your own hands down back between your thighs. The phantom of his palms linger, making your hands feel sorely inadequate. “Wherever Daddy wants,” you purr, swallowing harshly when he twists a nipple.

Jungkook groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

He lifts his head to watch you play with yourself. His hands grow tight around your waist, labored breath filling the air to harmonize with your breathy moans. You’re absolutely soaking your panties, sticky arousal making the fabric stick to your folds. “You know I do,” he murmurs, watching the outline of your knuckles through the fabric of your shorts. “Thought you wanted to play nice today.” He takes in a sharp inhale when you ease your finger into yourself, a breathy moan escaping from your lips.

You were already so wet, and you’re really not surprised this is how the two of you would break in his new IMAX, high definition flatscreen. Your pussy tightens around your finger, thigh muscles jumping at the intrusion. Fuck, you needed him so bad.

You smirk, drawing your hands out from their hiding spot. The television is the only thing lighting the room, the two of you shrouded in relative darkness. At first, your hand is shadowed by the glow of the screen, nothing more than an outline. But when you turn it just right, the light catches, highlighting the glistening skin of your fingers. It makes Jungkook shudder.

Ever so slowly, you bring your fingers up to his face. The tip of your middle finger runs teasingly against his plump lower lip, his shaky exhales sending a cool breath over your knuckles. “Open, Daddy,” you encourage, watching with rapt attention as he envelopes your fingers between his lips. He sucks, tongue dancing between each digit to slurp off your juices. “Do I taste good? Do you like it?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Jungkook preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Jungkook, you always came first. Jungkook’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Jungkook was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

It was only a few weeks ago that you discovered your shared daddy kink, him obsessed with the idea of shoving you around, something he would otherwise never do. You, on the other hand, found a pleasant satisfaction from being good for him, a stark contrast from your usual sharp tongue and nonexistent filter.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Jungkook grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Jungkook’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Jungkook kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Jungkook was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Jungkook rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

“Inside please,” you whimper, knees moving back and forth, only stopping when he helps you out of your bottoms. He places his free hand on one of them, stilling your writhing to fully focus on pleasing the burning fire inside of you. “Jungkook—“

A slap against your cunt that makes you squeal. “Ah ah,” he warns, voice a low tenor against your skin. If you focus hard enough, you can feel the faint brush of a smirk against your neck. “We’re playing a different game right now, pretty girl.”

On screen, your favorite childhood movie is bearing witness to the sinful acts at your boyfriend’s hands. It shouldn’t be surprising how easily you fall into his arms, onto his lap, especially with your history of movie watching with Jungkook.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Jungkook’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

These days he was growing out of that mature persona, and you like to think it’s thanks to you. Your wildness rubbed off on him, made him confident enough to geek out in public, or be adventurous in private. It helped nourish his impulsivity, which led to things like the Super Bowl Jumbotron watching you fuck now.

Despite knowing all this, knowing the way he is, the slow grind against your ass sends a thrill of arousal up your limbs, sensations converging just beneath your mound. “Yes, Daddy,” you mewl accordingly.

Pleased with your obedience, he rewards you by circling your throbbing clit with his thumb. It’s a terribly slow motion, pad of his finger easing over your engorged bud every other second. You wanted more, needed more. You squirm beneath him, attempting to push your clit against his palm. Your efforts are in vain when he clamps a hand down on your waist. “Sit still,” he growls.

You whimper. “Need more,” you rasp out. Your whole body is acting out now, shifting and turning as you try to wiggle closer. Your mouth brushes against his jawline. The sharp angle is the first thing your muddled thoughts focus on, lips hungrily latching onto his porcelain skin to suck a purple blossom onto it.

Any other day Jungkook would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today... well.

You were playing a different game.

The hand that had been exploring your nether regions suddenly snaps up, catching your chin between his fingers. The wetness that has coated his digits smears messily across your skin, and you whimper when he squishes your cheeks beneath his fingers.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

Dark chocolate eyes you’ve come to associate with love and adoration stare back at you unimpressed. His pronounced brow bone twitches, like he’s holding the true intensity of his glare back for your own sake. He slots his mouth against yours with no warning, tongue pushing its way past your lips. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth like you’re nothing but a lollipop for him to suck on. It pulls a surprised moan from your lips that he swallows quickly enough, biting down on your lower lip harshly. When he pulls away, he’s got that same bored look on his face. You feel small under such a cold look, shoulders scrunching up damn near your ears in a subtle attempt to hide from him.

The action makes Jungkook scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Jungkook, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Your heart falls out of your chest. “Huh?” you whisper hoarsely, wide eyes taking in his unimpressed expression. “Knees? But Daddy,” you whine, lower lip quivering as you glance down at the hardwood floor.

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Jungkook never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Jungkook had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Jungkook gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

You look back again, eye the dark wood planks beneath you, glossed over enough to make them shine even in this weak light. “No,” you belatedly respond, slowly pushing yourself off his lap and onto your feet. Your big shirt falls back down, covers the tops of your thighs as you stand nude from the waist down. You’re tempted to just yank it down even more, hide beneath the cloth so he doesn’t have to see you whine and bitch about your knees aching.

Jungkook was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Jungkook leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Jungkook smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

A hearty sigh escapes his lips as he settles back onto the couch cushions. “Keep me entertained, will you?” You gawk, but you know it’s not a question. He reaches over for the remote to turn the volume up on the Barbie movie.

Your favorite song on the entire soundtrack is playing, almost mocking you as you shuffle closer to him. Two hands tentatively placed on his thighs as the two animated maidens flounce around the screen. He doesn’t bat a single lash your way, eyes focused on the huge screen behind you instead.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Jungkook sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Jungkook hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Jungkook doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Jungkook adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

It’ll haunt you for weeks. The image of such unimpressed eyes leveled your way because you couldn’t handle his dick will stain the insides of your eyelids. Even though he’ll brush it off, kiss you and tell you it’s fine, the inner conceited hoe in you will never let it go, will recall the memory every time your hand is under your panties.

Still, you’re terribly desperate to impress him. He was your other half, your lover, your sweetheart, your goddamn king; he deserved only the best— not some half-assed, scaredy-cat blowjob that would leave him reeling back afterwards.

With that belief and a sticky blob of spit later, you’re pushing him into your throat. It’s the first reaction you get since he’d started feeling you up, a deep, raspy groan straight from the pits of hell, that has you working even harder to swallow his cock down. “That’s it,” he pants, carding his fingers through your hair. “Good girl.”

You positively mewl under the praise, tongue growing heavy in your mouth as you swallow more and more of him down. The hard tip of his cock pulses inside, rubbing against your palate and then your throat. A gag catches in your throat, one you quickly subdue by shifting your hips.

Fuck, he was so big. Just the feeling of his cock brashly rubbing against the corners of your lips has you fantasizing about how he’ll undoubtedly stretch your pussy apart later. You moan, letting your eyes flutter shut as you try to wave those images away.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Jungkook‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Jungkook, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Jungkook finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

“Fuck,” he growls, pushing you away as he sinks back into the cushions. His chest heaves beneath the material of his t-shirt, sweat dripping down from his hairline. Normally, you’d take this opportunity to crawl back onto his lap, lick and kiss away at his body while he recovered. But truthfully, you were both still new to this whole experience so there were still the occasional lulls between actions.

Sensing your uncertainty, Jungkook tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Jungkook kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Jungkook takes your wrists in his hands.

One shapely brow is raised in your direction. “Did I say you could touch?” he murmurs, pinning your hands above your head. A gasp catches in your throat from his close proximity. You subconsciously tilt your head up, try to brush your mouth against his, only to be denied with a subtle turn of his face. “How do you want it, pretty?” he asks, releasing the tight grip around your wrists.

Immediately, you latch around his broad shoulders, fingers tracing over the muscles of his arms until they meet at the base of his neck. “However you want,” you purr, pulling him closer until your bodies are aligned, the warm heat of his frame over yours. You kiss the spot beneath his ear once before he trails his lips down.

Jungkook mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

His proposal is followed by a slow roll of his hips against your throbbing core, the same dick you had just choked on gliding along your folds. You whimper, toes curling as the pleasure washes over you. Every ridge, ever vein of his hardened cock runs along your sensitive folds, reminding you of the aching flame inside of you. “Th-That’s fine,” you pant, leg lazily thrown over his hip. His hands trail over your waist, collecting your t-shirt as they move up your body until it’s pushed over the swell of your breasts.

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Jungkook that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Jungkook smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “Kook!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

Two hands grab onto your biceps, tugging you up forcefully until your back arches, leaving you bent at a ninety degree angle before him. “Look, sweetheart,” he coos against your ear, voice deep enough that it vibrates through every bone in your body. Your breath stutters in your throat, exhilaration blossoming in your chest. “It’s your favorite movie.”

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Jungkook’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Jungkook either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “Jungkook, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Jungkook wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, chest heaving with every slow roll of his hips. Your pussy was sopping, desperate to be filled with something. It was even worse knowing his dick was right there, just inches outside of where you need him most. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you repeat.

Jungkook chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

When he finally pops past that initial tightness, you swear you could transcend into another dimension from the absolute feeling of euphoria that washes over you. “Fuck,” you mewl, fighting against his tight hold. Your efforts are in vain, ultimately choosing to drop your head down as the ecstasy continues to wash over you with each inch he offers you.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Jungkook reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

He gives until there’s nothing left, the soft hairs around his dick tickling your lips as he reaches the hilt. “There we go,” he grunts, giving you one final tug to make sure this is as far as he can go. You squeal, the brush against your walls making you ridiculously high. “That’s my girl.”

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Jungkook’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

“Ohhh,” you whimper, muscles going slack for the briefest moment. The only thing that saves you from falling over is the killer grip on your forearms; when he tugs you up his cock runs along your pulsing walls. “Please, Daddy,” you beg, mouth feeling a thousand times heavier.

“The movie,” he repeats, slowly beginning to pull away from your clenching heat. You moan. “Tell me what it’s about,” he husks, punctuating his seemingly innocent statement with a harsh snap of his hips.

You wail, stumbling forward at the intensity. Still, it’s just a taste of what he has in store for you. He soon picks a pace, not too rushed or slow, as you struggle to keep your eyes open. “I-I don’t know,” you choke out, the images flashing across the gigantic screen practically unrecognizable to your muddled thoughts.

Behind you Jungkook tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

His hips are moving fast now, every piston into your warm heat making you tremble. “Fffuck,” you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he continues ramming his cock into your pulsing hole. You’re met with a harsh yank that pulls you snugly onto his cock, your entire body screaming at the way he nudges against your cervix. Despite the pleasure it gives you, Jungkook seems anything but pleased.

“C’mon,” he huffs, twisting your arms painfully behind your back. “What did we say about that dirty mouth?” His question is followed with a snap of his hips that makes you choke on your spit. “Need you to be good for me, baby,” he groans.

“I-I am good,” you weakly defend, head hanging down limply as you fight to regain some semblance of your senses. But everything feels too much, from the rough push of his hips to the tight grip on your arms. His cock pulls out nearly all the way each time, swollen tip the only thing stopping him. Every thrust makes you quiver, every touch makes you melt.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Jungkook scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

A hand clamps around your throat suddenly, yanking you up right until his breath fans across your ear. You’re not sure when your eyes had become so teary, but the images flickering across the screen are a foggy mess you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. “__,” he rasps against your ear, his voice scratchy. “Tell me. Now.”

You whimper as he shoves his way back inside, the angry head of his cock testing you. “T-Two girls, one’s a princess,” you cry, knees wobbling as the feeling in your core grows. “They look alike, and-and…”

“And?” Jungkook asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Jungkook snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Jungkook barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “Kook— Jungkook!”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures you, fingers holding you tight around the waist. The coffee table you had feared cracking your skull on finally comes to use as you press your hands onto the surface in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Jungkook nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Jeon Jungkook, maybe Doyeon was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Jungkook is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Jungkook responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your Kook now.”

“My… Kook,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Jungkook chases both your second orgasms.

“Mhmm,” he groans, jostling you over his lap with no rhythm whatsoever. “Yours, baby.” You stretch your hands back, carding one set of fingers through the hair above his ear, pushing the strands away from his face. “Just like you’re mine.”

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Jungkook hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Jungkook catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

When all is said and done and you’re both basking in a post-orgasmic make-out, you realize how sweaty and icky you are. “Ugh, this is gross,” you pout as he wiggles you off his lap. He pushes you beside him, letting you flop over the length of the couch as he reaches for something to clean you up with.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

You nudge him with your foot. “I’m not the one who wanted to fuck during a Barbie movie,” you scoff, pinching the skin on his forearm when his gaze lingers a second too long on your creamy pussy. “Look somewhere else, weirdo.”

Jungkook laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don't wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

He cackles loudly now, in that evil witch way it took him a while to show you, and you know he’s got that big silly grin on his face now. . “The IMAX screen? The same one that made you,” a pause, “climax?”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Jungkook’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

What you’re not expecting is for her anger to shift to you as she scolds you for letting her idiotic son make such purchases. She gets one playful thwack against your side with the leek before your charming idiotic boyfriend swoops in to save you.

——

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #mine

3K notes · View notes

lassieposting · 3 years

Note

💘💘💘💘 + ghasdug

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

So Skug says they stowed away on the same ship, but this is...not exactly true.

He stowed away on that ship, because he was running away from home and he was a snobby little lordling who'd never had to fend for himself a day in his life, so the furthest ahead he'd actually thought to plan was "they won't want to turn around and drop me off once they're underway".

Ghastly was not stowed away at any point during that trip. Ghastly was signed on for the journey as a deckhand, because Ghastly's mother told him he needed to, and it had to be that particular ship. Ghastly gets seasick, and did not want to go to sea in the slightest. But Ghastly's mother has visions and so Ghastly does as he is told. Apparently there was something important waiting for him on that ship.

Anyway Skug pops out once he thinks they're far enough away from shore that they'll leave him be rather than take him back to port, and he is incredibly mistaken. The captain is in favour of turning him around right there and then, because he's clearly some rich lord's brat, and whoever his father is will probably pay handsomely for his safe return. Ghastly manages to talk the ship's crew into letting him stay on, provided he pulls his weight like the rest of them.

Needless to say, even before they're attacked by pirates, that voyage is a rude awakening for poor Skug, and good lord does Ghastly hear all about it. He has blisters. His feet hurt. This shirt was expensive and now it's all sweaty. His hair is in his eyes all the time. He's tired. The guy in the next bunk snores. Some of these people look like they have lice. He didn't realise he'd be doing manual labour, this is servant stuff, how dare they.

Ghastly does. Not realise at that point what he has let himself in for.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

Poor Ghastly gets to pine for years. Baby Skug isn't a great boyfriend. He's less invested - he loves Ghastly, but they have two totally different outlooks.

Ghastly is ugly. He's always been ugly. He's got a face he believes only his mother could love. He's never believed he'd find someone who saw past that or loved him regardless. So as soon as he gets Skug into bed, he's over the moon and ready to commit. He's like 17, and would absolutely settle down there and then given half a chance.

Skug, on the other hand, was a weird-looking child who only recently grew into an attractive adolescent and he is loving it. For the first time in his life, girls are noticing him. He doesn't want to settle down, he wants to play the field and sow some wild oats and have fun. So there are periods of exclusivity with Ghastly, interspersed with periods where Skug basically drops him to chase after the latest pretty bit of skirt.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Ghastly's smitten by the time they make it back to Ireland - Skug is a bit soft and allergic to hard work and a pain in the arse, but he's flashy and charismatic and funny and pays attention to him without gawking at his face (past the initial "good god, what happened to you?") - but Skug is well and truly settled into living with Ghastly's family by the time he actually gives Ghas the come-on.

where their first date was and what it was like

They went to the local tavern and got drunk, and then rode home in the pouring rain once it kicked them out at closing time.

When they got home, Ghastly's parents had long since gone to bed, but that wasn't necessarily unusual - once Skug, who has a considerable allowance, is old enough to start drinking, Saoirse institutes a rule that if they're not home by the time she and her husband turn in for the night, she'll leave blankets in the barn and they can sleep there instead. She's not having them barging in, wasted, at all hours of the day and night, waking her up after a hard day's work.

So they put the horses away and give them a quick rub down, and Ghastly is trying to look anywhere but Skug because Skug's shirt has gone kind of see-through and poor Ghastly is an awkward, horny teenage boy, but he keeps shooting him these furtive glances over the horse's back and Skug notices because Skug notices everything and lowkey teases him about it. "Want me to sit for a portrait? It'll last longer," sort of teasing, and Ghastly tries to laugh along but he's also vibrant red because he's been caught staring, so obviously Skug realises something's up

And he's precisely as tactful about it as he ever is about anything, and jokes, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted me," and Ghastly's ears burn and he doesn't deny it quick enough and now Skug's eyebrows are inching towards his hairline and Ghastly panics because like, he's ugly, Skug is going to be disgusted or laugh at him and he can't cope with either, so he just? Freezes?

But like. Skug was a weird-looking, unfortunate child who very recently grew into an attractive adolescent, so he fucking thrives on attention. So his response to this awkward not-quite-a-confession is actually a moment of silence while he mulls this new information over (this feels like an eternity to poor Ghastly) followed by an early attempt at using The Hot Voice and, "If you want me, have me."

So, they end up having sex in the hayloft on the blankets Ghastly's mom left out for them. Ghastly has never even been kissed and doesn't admit that he has no idea what he's doing until he realises Skug is expecting him to take the lead. He also blurts that he loves Skug when he nuts, so like. It's your typical painfully embarrassing virginity loss.

It can't be all bad though, because Skug's up for doing it again.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

So in my endgame-ghasdug AU, they get back together post-TDOTL. Ghastly survives being stabbed, but the blade nicked his spinal cord, so he's in a wheelchair for quite a while, and then has to do A Lot of physical therapy to relearn how to walk. Skug shows up at the hospital/facility where he's recovering every day unless there's an emergency, because Ghastly is very depressed and struggling with survivor's guilt over Anton and doesn't see the point in doing his physio because it hurts and he's exhausted and he shouldn't be alive anyway. And Skug annoys him into doing it, mostly by heckling him from the other side of the room, because he's not great at the whole emotional support thing. Ghastly will mutter, "Christ, I want to hit you," and Skug will tell him, "Well, if you come over here to do it I won't even duck." And if Ghastly gets his ass up and uses the walking frame support thing to cross the room, well, then Skug will take a punch like a man and be happy about it because Ghastly walked.

They also talk a lot during this period. Ghastly feels like shit, and he reminisces a lot about the good old days and how he never saw Ravel's betrayal coming and memories he has of Anton, and sometimes that veers into memories they share from when they were young men. And Skug, at this point, is old enough and has been through enough to admit that he wasn't great to Ghastly when they were boys. He was flighty and selfish and high-maintenance, and he would've hated to be treated the way he treated Ghastly. And he tells him that, at one point - that he's sorry, and if he could go back and do it differently, he would, assuming Ghastly was daft enough to be willing to put up with him a second time.

And Ghastly laughs and tells him, "I'd still have you now, you stupid bastard."

who proposes first

Ghastly. They're 19/20. Skug thinks he's joking.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Neither - they don't announce it, but it's not exactly a secret either. Ghastly's parents notice pretty much straight away, but other than a few parental pointers on what is and isn't appropriate, it's not really a topic of conversation.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

Skug's sister Confelicity accepts the first proposal she gets at the age of 16, because she's desperate to get out of their parents' house and away from their toxic relationship and controlling behaviour. Their father disapproves and refuses to attend the wedding (and, of course, their mother is not allowed her own opinion), and Carver is out of the country, so Skug stands in to a) pay and b) give away the bride. He takes Ghastly for moral support, because he doesn't like most of his relatives and also doesn't like the groom (Thurid Guild - their relationship doesn't improve when Confelicity divorces him a few years later to marry a baronet). While they're watching the couple say their vows, Ghastly murmurs, "We should get married."

Skug is right in the middle of his hoe phase and does not realise Ghastly's serious.

who’s more dominant

Generally, Skug. He is one hell of a force of personality and Ghastly does get steamrollered quite a bit, although he does eventually learn how to say no. Skug always gets things his way, always does whatever he likes and be damned to the consequences, and Ghastly is always there with a handful of the back of his shirt, pulling his ass out of whatever fire he started.

In bed, though, it's Ghastly.

how into pda they are

As teenagers, Ghastly's mother has to reprimand them occasionally for being too all over each other, but teenagers be rabidly horny. As grown men, they're just sort of casually affectionate. Comfortable with each other. When they're relaxing in camp after a day of travelling, Skug will lean against Ghastly to read a book or put his head on Ghastly's leg while they chat. They can have a silent conversation just by reading each other's faces. They'll nudge each other when something reminds them of an in-joke. They have that easy intimacy that comes with having known each other forever.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

As boys, Ghastly has a particular flowery meadow he likes to take Skug to for picnics, because he's a romantic. Skug at that age is considerably less so, and more interested in whether they can screw there without getting caught.

In the modern day, they go to see old movies. Ghastly was very into the early films of the late 1910s and the 1920s, after the war finished. He associates them with a time where he finally got to just set up his shop and live the life he always wanted to live. Skug hasn't seen most of Ghastly's favourites, because he spent that period of history fighting the truce and then spiralling into a black hole of trauma and misery, but he got very into the noir detective era to the point that he's still clinging to the aesthetic like 80 years later, so they'll alternate who picks the movies and catch each other up on their favourites.

who’s more protective

They've both spent their fair share of time fretting in the chair beside a hospital bed. After Ravel's betrayal, though, it's Skug. Ghastly retires as soon as he's considered fit to make the decision, and decides he wants to go back to Dublin to reopen his shop and just sort of try and forget Roarhaven exists. And Skug is absolutely adamant that he gets to do it. There's a lot of interest in Ghastly for a while - groundbreaking healing magic was used to fix what should've been a permanent injury, people want to know if he suspected Ravel, they want his advice on how to rebuild after Devastation Day. He's more approachable than China, and a lot more popular. But he can't cope with it all, and anyone who tries to hassle him in Dublin will have Skug to deal with.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

The first night Skug stays at Ghastly's family home. Ghastly is an only child, and his family isn't wealthy - their house doesn't have a guest room. It's sleep with Ghastly or sleep on the floor, and Little Lord Priss isn't going to be sleeping on the floor.

Honestly, he's relieved there isn't a spare room for him. He's never really slept alone before. Like most children of very wealthy families back then, he grew up in a nursery with his four oldest brothers and sisters, and when he was too old to live with The Children, he shared a room, first with Carver and then with Francis. The thought of being on his own in a strange house is pretty intimidating.

He moves to his own bed as soon as they get him one, but he stays in Ghastly's room, and he's perfectly happy with that.

(Ghastly is less happy. He's very much crushing on Skug and he's terrified he'll say something incriminating in his sleep.)

who steals whose clothes and how often

Skug gets to steal Ghastly's clothes for a year or two after he moves in with Ghastly's family. After that, they're built too differently. Ghastly is built like a brick shithouse of muscle. Skug is lean and toned and tall. When they're younger, he can more or less wear Ghastly's clothes as a nightshirt, but after Skug's final growth spurt, Ghastly's clothes don't sit right on him at all, and he's gotten too vain and fashion-conscious by that point to just wear them anyway.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Ghastly is fussy about his tea. Plenty of milk, two and a half sugars, leave the teabag in.

Skug just inhales it black, which Ghastly thinks is an abomination.

if they ever have any children together

Ghastly thanks his lucky stars every day that they have a 0% chance of accidentally spawning a skuglet. One of him is plenty.

He's very involved with Skugbab when he comes along, though. He's godfather and a very present uncle.

if they have any special pet names for each other

Skug doesn't do nicknames, and would rather not be given them, either. Ghastly gets away with "Skul", primarily because he's the only one who's known Skug since he was all of 16, but also because "Skulduggery" is a mouthful when all your blood is rushing to your downstairs brain and it's his own damn fault that he didn't think of that before he picked it.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

So many times. They're on and off again more frequently than Saracen's clothes. Every time Skug spots someone new, he ends it with Ghastly to pursue them, and then comes back when he loses interest or it doesn't work out.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Ghastly's family home is an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Dublin. It's simple, but cosy, and Ghastly's dad is incredibly houseproud, so it's very well-looked-after. Skug prefers it by miles to his own palacial, but cold and unwelcoming, family home, and he tries to replicate the vibe later on with Wifey. It's pretty small compared to what he's used to, so it sort of feels like they're all living on top of each other, and he has to get used to not having any servants and drawing his own water to heat his own bath etc, but he's loved there, and that makes all the difference.

what their names are in each other’s phones

They're both old-ass men about some things, and this is one of them. So no emojis or anything - they're "Ghastly Bespoke" and "Skul". How romantic.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Ghastly wakes up first: he's used to rising early to get started on his chores. Skug is absolutely not a morning person at this point in his life and Ghastly frequently has to turf his ass out of bed by pulling his quilt off/dumping water on him/yelling in his ear.

Reversed with modern day ghasdug: Ghastly still wakes at a sensible time, but damn it he left the army a century ago and now he likes a lie in. Skug never really stopped being a soldier and still has most of his military habits, so he's up with the sun.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Ghastly is the big spoon. Skug likes to be Held.

who hogs the bathroom

Skug. The boy is vain as all fuck. There is a grand total of one cloudy looking-glass in Ghastly's family's home and Skug spends a good chunk of the morning hogging it to fuss with his hair and peacock at his reflection. Ghastly is under strict orders Never to mention this to Fletcher.

#skulduggery pleasant #ghasdug #sp headcanons #long post

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ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 15~Part 1

Chapter 14

----------Part 1---------

He gently combed my messy bangs and then, his neat face slowly approaches.....

(Ah.....)

He drops a kiss on my forehead and my heart skips a beat.

Kurama: "Humans are annoying. But, you make me do the strangest things. Like listening to idle talking, watching out for weak people and offering them a hand."

Yoshino: "Kurama....?"

(Why did you do that...?)

It's not the usual playful touch, but a genuinely caring gesture that makes my chest tighten sweetly.

Kurama: "----I'm already acting weird. What the hell is happening to me?"

Kurama frowned irritatingly and moved away.

Kurama: ".....Benkei and Yoichi said they would treat you as a guest from now on, right?"

Yoshino: "Yeahh....so what about it?"

I asked feeling confused by the sudden change of subject.

Kurama(glaring cutely): "I don't like the idea of being the only one who keeps you as a prisoner."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1. What's with the rivalry?(+4/+4)

2. Why?

3. That's not a problem, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoshino: "What's with the sudden rivalry....?"

Kurama: "It's not rivalry. It's just a natural conclusion of those who own you. I'll think about how I'm going to treat you from now on."

Kurama dismissed the subject unilaterally and left the room.

Yoshino: "Wait....."

(...Wait! I can't sleep like this.)

................

The next day-----

Kurama: "Yoshino. We're going out."

Yoshino: "Excuse me?"

(You just barged into my room without knocking and I'm here just trying to get rid of this hangover.....What time is it, again!?)

Kurama: "We're going to the Otherworld."

Yoshino: "What? Where?"

(I think I didn't hear you right!)

Kurama: "Are you deaf?.....Or maybe the after-effects from overworking?"

Yoshino: "Wrong!"

Kurama: "Good. Now stop being lazy and get up."

Yoshino: "No wait. First, you have to explain things----"

Kurama: "Don't worry. I already told Yoshitsune. It won't be like last night."

(No! First, you had to explain everything to me...!!)

Yoshino: "----And STOP PULLING MY CLOTHES!!"

..............

Kurama: "......and that's what the Otherworld is. Don't make me repeat it."

Kurama reluctantly explains everything while walking around the town of Hiraizumi.

Yoshino: "I've heard a little bit about the Otherworld from Tamamo before, I heard that only demons live there,....and it's not a place that humans should go often..."

(But what's the reason that you're taking me....?)

Kurama: “There are places in the Otherworld that are harmful to humans, and there are places that are not. Either way, if a human goes there, he or she is bound to fall prey to the demons.”

Yoshino: “Will I get eaten!?”

Kurama: “Idiot! Do you think there will be a foolish demon alive out there that will dare to touch my toy when I’m around? If anyone should come near you, I’ll tear them to pieces.”

(In simple words, you’ll protect me no matter what, right?)

Yoshino: “But why are you taking me there?”

Kurama: “To thank you.”

Yoshino: “Thank me?”

Kurama: “I thought about it last night. The party was, as they told you, was a gesture of them showing their gratitude towards you. So I wanted to thank you in my own way.”

(You mean....)

I suddenly remembered the conversation we had after we left Heikichiro-san’s house.

----------FLASHBACK---------

Kurama: “Yoshino. I’m reassessing your value. Apparently, you have a strength that I don’t know about. ....I’m proud of you.”

Yoshino: "Are you...perhaps....do you want me to take that statement as a 'Thank you."

Kurama: "...............Think of it however you want."

---------FLASHBACK ENDS--------

(So maybe...he’s starting to care for me?)

He’s not trying to actually say ‘Thank you’ in words but instead, he’s trying to show it through his actions.

I felt ticklish when I thought about it and started to giggle.

Kurama: “Why are you laughing?”

--------Part 2--------

Kurama: “Why are you laughing?”

Yoshino(blushing): “You’re imagining things.”

Kurama: “Do you think you can hide your red cheeks from me?”

I smiled more and more when I saw Kurama making a face that screams ‘Why am I doing this?’.

(I can’t help but be happy for Kurama’s feelings, regardless of why the destination is the Otherworld.)

........................

(You said you were taking me to the entrance to the Otherworld........But what a way to go, we’ve come pretty far!)

Kurama brought me to the mountains around Hiraizumi.

We tied our horse we had ridden on the way to the tree and went further into the woods. (I don’t know how they got a horse when they were walking around town.)

Kurama: “Haa! Flying would have been much faster, you know. But Yoshitsune and others forced me to take a horse.”

Yoshino: “Looks like it was a good thing that you told them before going on a long journey.”

Kurama: “It’s better to listen to them than hearing their nonstop complaints later. But I don’t like the idea of them having even a little bit of you.”

(....Just like yesterday.)

I’m a bit confused by the suggestion of exclusivity.

(What does Kurama thinks of me?)

(His toy? A prey to be kept alive? Or prisoner?)

(I’ve always thought of myself as being like that.)

Kurama: “It’s here.”

My thoughts were cut off when I heard Kurama’s thoughts.

Yoshino: “Here? I can’t see anything here.”

Kurama: “I can smell the Otherworld through the slightest hole. A mere mortal wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

(Really...)

Yoshino: “Are there many places like this?”

Kurama: “To a certain extent. Some holes close quickly, others appear irregularly. I could drill a hole with a spell, but that would require a high amount of my magic.”

Yoshino: “Okay, I get it.”

Kurama: “We’re going. Ready?”

Yoshino: “Wait! I need time to prepare! Is there anything I need to prepare first----”

Kurama laughed lightly when he saw me panicking.

Kurama: “Just take my hand and close your eyes. That’s all you need to do.”

Yoshino: “Mm...”

While my heart was not quite ready yet when I saw Kurama holding out his hands towards me, I don’t feel anxious.

(Oh....)

When I placed my hand on his big palm, he draws me towards him and I was completely wrapped in Kurama’s warmth.

Holding my hand with one hand and the other touching my back, Kurama quickly closed his eyes.

Kurama: “-----It’s time to fall into the hole in the gap.”

His voice echoed and the surroundings around is begins to distort.

Yoshino: “.....!”

I instantly closed my eyes and only felt Kurama’s existence.

The sound of trees and the chirpings of birds that filled the area has suddenly become distant.

Kurama: “Good. Now, open your eyes.”

Yoshino: “This is....”

Kurama: “The Otherworld.”

(At first glance it looks like normal but....the air is different.)

When I looked around, the plants and trees in the area is also different.

Yoshino: “I feel heavy.”

Kurama: “Feeling nausea is normal. Let’s get to our destination as quickly as possible.”

Then, he spreads his black wings.

Kurama: “Hold on tight.”

(Perfect for the atmosphere of the Otherworld....)

Kurama picks me up easily regardless of me who is admiring him.

Yoshino(blushing): “Th-Thank you.”

(I’m afraid I’m getting more and more used to his behavior all of a sudden.)

In the midst of the powerful sound of wings, I looked down gently.

Yoshino: “Woww!! The landscape looks totally different.”

Kurama: “And so it shall be.”

----------Part 3-----------

Yoshino: “Woww!! The landscape looks totally different.”

Kurama: “And so it shall be.”

Kurama smiles in satisfaction as I gawk at him.

Kurama: “I’ve seen this sight all the time and it’s not bad to see your delightful face seeing the skies of this world.”

Yoshino: “Oh! What’s that? That, glowing dog-like creatures....”

Kurama: “Don’t go near them. They eat human bones.”

(It looks cute, but it’s scarier than I thought! After all, this is the Otherworld.)

Kurama flies in the sky with all the scenery in his sight.

He looks like the King of Demons.

................

As the night falls.

More and more the air of the Otherworld smells heavy and mysterious.

Kurama: “This is it.”

(Woahh........!)

My eyes widened when I saw a magnificent cherry blossom tree in full bloom.

Yoshino: “Beautiful.....they have cherry blossoms in the Otherworld too. And I can’t believe they’re blooming at this time of year.”

Kurama: “The seeds must have spilled out of the Human world. The air around here is suitable for humans, so it has germinated, grown over time, and adapted to the atmosphere of the Otherworld.”

(You’re right, the air here is very clear.)

It doesn’t have the clinging weight that I felt when I first arrived in the Otherworld.

Kurama: “Do you like it?”

Yoshino: “Yes! Very much!!”

(Did you wanted to show me this view?)

(Did you think that it would make me happy?)

When I think about those questions, my heart was full.

Yoshino: “Thank you very much for bringing me here, Kurama.”

Kurama: “-----Yeah.”

I turned and smiled, and then, the Otherworldly wind blew my hair.

As if on a whim, Kurama reached out and combed the hair on my cheek with his fingertips.

Yoshino: “Mm......”

(Hehe, that tickles....)

A strange heat smoldered in my heart like a burning fever.

Pale pink petals fluttered and falls above our heads.

Yoshino: “If you look closely, the color of the blossom seems to be a little darker than the cherry blossoms of the human world.”

Kurama: “You’re a bit of a trifler, aren’t you?”

Yoshino: “I noticed it when was struck in awe, and I tend to do it most of the time. But the wind makes it look even more magical, like something out of a dream.”

(I’ll never forget this view.)

The wind blew again and it started raining petals.

Yoshino: “!!”

I noticed Kurama was staring at me.

The petals on his black hair, disheveled by the wind, fell dreamily as if it were afraid to touch Kurama.

Yoshino(blushing): “.......How beautiful.”

Kurama: “You said the same thing earlier.”

(I can’t tell him that this time I was mentioning Kurama and not the cherry blossoms.....)

Kurama touches my collar as the wind dances gently with the flurries.

Kurama: “You’re covered in petals. It looks stupid but....not bad.”

(Eh.....)

Kurama’s face, a little down on his eyelashes, approaches------

His lips caught the petal that had fallen on my collar.

(What the....I can’t look...)

Kurama: “Got it!”

Yoshino(blushing): “.....You could’ve just picked it up normally.”

Kurama: “Don’t tell me what to do. Anyway, you said, you like the way the wind blows and the flowers fall, don’t you? Now look.”

Kurama takes out his fan and spreads it loosely.

Then the wind started to gather in one place-----

(.......!)

The increasing force of the wind made me close my eyes.

(Is he using his magic!?)

Kurama: “You won’t see if you close your eyes.”

Yoshino: “What are you doing....?”

Kurama: “I’m going to drop all the flowers on this tree. Watch them fall as much as you like.”

Yoshino: “No, wait!”

I stop his hand that was about to swing the fan.

Kurama: “What?”

I made sure that the wind slowly dies down and Kurama stopped using his magic power.

Yoshino: “I’m glad you feel that way, but I think cherry blossoms are only beautiful when they fall naturally. I think it’s the dreaminess that makes you want to see it again after it’s gone.”

Kurama: “.........?”

(His face says “I don’t understand you.”)

Kurama: “I don’t understand you.”

Part 2

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #ikemen mc #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #main story translations

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floatinginwords · 3 years

Text

Saved by the Devil (5/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: You try to get a handle on you anxious thoughts and an old face returns to cause trouble

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (not romantic...yet)

A/n: So this took forever. Had alot of trouble with the action part of the scenes but it came through :) Hope you all have lovely days

Thomas face recovers from your question rather quickly, “He is dead. You can check records for yourself.”

He says it like it’s a fact. But he’s quick and dismissive and doesn’t utter another word. You want to ask more questions, details of it to ease your anxiety. But he clenches his jaw and his grip on the wheel tightens. You worry you may have angered him. Your questions weird and all over the place. He didn’t like not being able to anticipate another person moves. Thomas Shelby didn’t like being caught off guard. You were the same and it seemed that neither of you could figure each other out. You didn’t know whether to believe him or not.

As if on cue, the engine begins smoking. Thomas stops the car on the side of the road. You continue staring out the window. He gets out without another word. You stay by yourself in the front. A mix of emotions your struggling to contain. Your embarrassed for asking the question, your angry about the nightmare, sad that you get paranoid over something this small. You can hear the men talking, you don’t stretch your ears to listen. You rather the day end here and now but there was still more to go. You see a tall, bald man come around the car and open the engine. He doesn’t take a moment, his hands already messing with the parts. He knew what was wrong immediately. Within a few minutes, hes done, the smoking ceasing. He notices you watching and pulls off his cap and bows his head to you.

“Ma’am” He says, heading back with the other lads.

Thomas returns with sandwiches to give. He hands one over to you, you take it gently.

“we should be there shortly.” He starts the engine, it works smoothly.

You hold the sandwich delicately in your hand. You can’t eat because of the anxiety pains there. You try to get out of your head, knowing you didn’t want to be distracted when you got to your destination. You try to find solace in his dismissive words. You can check yourself he says. You can go see the body yourself. Find the records. You can do that all later. You take a deep breath.

“Mr. Shelby, I feel I need to apologize-“

“No need. You did nothing wrong.”

“I just feel my questions were-“

He cuts you off again, “they was nothing wrong. I’m surprised you didn’t ask sooner.”

“I'm not sure I wanted to know before.”

“And now?”

“Sometimes a person needs confirmation that what’s in the past, stays there.” You answer.

He hums in response. You keep talking forgetting who you were talking to for a moment.

“Do your nightmares ever stay with longer that you would like?” you ask. The both of you stare at the road in front of you.

“All the damm time.” He answers.

The rest of the ride is spent in silence. The only thing you hear is the tires rolling on the road and the chatter the men were having in the back. This time the silence wasn’t as loud.

The horse auction was nothing to what you thought. Cars filled the parking lot and it seemed like it was a lot of people from all over came to buy some horses. The men from the back all introduced themselves quickly. The one you met John trying to be cheeky and kiss your hand. The guy with the mustache, who would later introduce himself as Arthur, slaps him behind the head.

“Arthur Shelby ma’am” He shakes your hand and smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You learn the others quite quickly, Curly (the one who fixed the engine) Charlie, the brothers uncle. and Michael their cousin who reminded you more of a boy than a man. You walk next to Arthur and Thomas as you enter the auction. You see people of the rich kind with glasses of champagne leaning over a railing, laughing and talking. You noticed that a lot of people staring at your group. Some of their eyes held fear, others jealousy or disdain.

Thomas finds a spot around the railing that he likes, you all follow in suit. Below its like a pit where you can see all the horses prancing. You can hear numbers being yelled out from beneath you as a man runs around with a horse showing her off to the audience. Around you notice people nodding their heads, putting their money down for the horse they wanted. Across from the railing you see a familiar face.

May Carleton. You didn’t know her personally no. But you knew who she was. Rich and full of connections. The Carleton family were very well off and respected. You can see her eyes trained over on your side, she doesn’t notice you. In fact, you catch her gawking at Thomas.

“Tommy that’s the horse.” Curly says pointing at the new horse they were prancing around.

She was grey and spotted, young and wild. Thomas nods his head putting a bid on the horse. You look at May as she leans over to the man next to her. Her lips move fast but her gaze doesn’t waver from Thomas.

“You’re about to have another bid.” You mutter to Thomas.

He looks at you confused before the announcer call out what you just predicted. You direct your gaze to May; the woman trying to get attention from the leader of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas grips the railing and leans forward, not willing to give up the horse.

“I have a bad feeling Tommy.” Curly says.

Thomas ignore him as he and May have a silent battle. You see her fascinated with it. You back away from the bidding and excuse yourself to walk around the building. Honestly you were bored from what’s going on.

You walk around the people listening in on their conversations pretending to just be passing by. You giggle at the gossip you hear loving how out of context it sounds. And then you see them. They blend in with the crowds quite nicely. No one would point them out if they didn’t know em. But you did. Sabinis men.

You cover your face with your hands a fake a sneeze as one walks right past you. You count two but you wouldn’t be surprised if there were more hiding somewhere. You try to make your way back to the spot the group was at. But they’re gone.

“Fuck.” You say under your breath. The auction starts to dwindle in numbers the people beginning to go home. You walk around the facility, hoping to run into one of the Shelby brothers and not Sabinis men. You had no weapons on you, a choice you curse yourself for doing.

‘Never leave without a weapon” You tell yourself, angry for leaving yourself vulnerable. You hear footsteps behind you. You stop in your tracks, the footsteps continue to come closer. You look around for any objects that could save you. There’s only a small statue of an angel. It would have to do. You turn around, face to face with the third guy. One you did not see from earlier. One you would have surely recognized. Alastair.

“(Y/N),” he says pulling out a knife from within his pocket.

You don’t say anything watching as he moves slowly towards you. You don’t feel angry or betrayed. The two of you were never friends. Never enemies either.

“Alastair, How are you?” You say sarcastically. You drop your coat to the floor, it would only slow you down.

He stands a good distance from you. He doesn’t move or walk any further.

You clench your teeth. “I’m gonna guess that this doesn’t look to good.”

“Afraid not,” he pauses throwing and catching his knife in the air. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, “I can give you the choice to do this the easy way.”

You scoff. “I’m not gonna let you drag me to Sabini.”

“Then I guess I’ll bring him two heads.”

Alastair lunges at you, cutting the top of your arm. You jump back back and hiss in pain, he lunges again. This time you duck, spinning fast to kick him around the back of his knees. Alastair falls but he doesn’t go down without jerking his body around, swinging his arm fast aiming to slash your stomach. You stupidly grab the knife mid air and hold it. He stares at you wide eyes as blood leaks from your hand but you don’t let release

“Wha-“ you didn’t give him the time to finish.

You kick him right in the jaw knocking him back. You run toward the angel statue grabbing it by the wings. You feel your hair being pulled back. You decide to knock back hard your skull colliding with another. You both walk away from each feeling a painful pounding in each others head. You watch the blood leak from Alastairs nose. You take the butt of the statue and collide again with his face. You hear an awful crunch as he fall down to the ground dropping the knife. He groans like an hurt animal. You must have broke his nose.

You drop the statue on the floor and pick up the knife. Your about to make decision of what to do when you hear gunshots close by. You run toward them leaving Alistair. The gunshots don’t stop until you arrive downstairs in the pit where you were watching the horses prance. You see a body on the floor, the face bloody. You see Thomas, Curly and Charlie holding back Arthur who had blood all over hands and face. Michael watches them. You stay silent watching the scene unfold.

Thomas rushes over the to the bloody body. “He’s still breathing.” He yells, “Don’t get blood on the kid!” You see him yell at Michael demanding he give him the keys to the car.

“I’ m alright to drive.” Michael says looking as if he hadn’t blinked since the whole ordeal. He walks out with Curly, Charlie, Arthur and the assassin.

Thomas just stands and waits with his hands in his pickets watching them trail out.

John walks back in, his face hardened, “I fucking lost em.”

“So Sabini sent two to get the job done.” Thomas says

“Three,” You chime in, finally making yourself known, “He sent three after you. He must be really paranoid.”

The brothers eyes widen as they look at you. Did you look that bad. You had won the fight after all. You look down at your yellow dress seeing the stained all over it. You see cuts littered across your arms some where you hadn’t even felt them. And your hand was definitely the worst of them all, the blood still dripping from it. You can’t imagine the damage done to your face.

“I left him back there.” You say suddenly feeling very faint and tired.

“John put her in the car.” He says walking past you. You feel Johns hands lead you away, the cheekiness from earlier gone replaced with fear and gentleness.

“You can let go of the knife.” John tell you. You hadn’t even realized you were still holding it, as you let it drop to the ground.

He leads you to the passenger seat where Michael . “What happened to her?” You hear him say.

A gunshot rings from the distance. Everyone goes quiet. Thomas walks back out casually. His face void of any emotion, he opens the door to the drivers seat.

“Out.” He says. Michael does so. The tone not something you want to disagree with.

John stands in by your window, giving Thomas the death stare. “Why did you do that, Tommy?”

“We only needed one alive.” He simply replies.

Read pt.6

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby #Fanfic

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septicstories · 3 years

Text

A/N: For some unfathomable reason, I get some fantasy BNHA vibe from the song, Ophelia by the Lumineers. not even the lyrics. Like, the instrumental. It also, for some reason, gives me such an intense feeling of nostalgia that it sort of makes me want to cry? And I don’t know why? Actually wait. Seeing that this song is from the same guys who performed “Ho Hey” that makes a bunch of sense. Okay, anyways, I’m just gonna write a Kiribaku fantasy thing. Just some fluff, nothing super major.

I, I, when I was younger

“Kacchan! Quit running off! Your mother is bound to be worried sick!”

“Shut up, Deku! I’m gonna be fucking fine! C’mon!”

“Kacchan!”

The two young boys ran through the forests. Katsuki had recently turned twelve, given his first sword. Nothing fancy, just a small cutlass. In a week, he’d get his very first tattoo. But only if he collected an animal’s blood.

Easiest way to do that?

Kill it and bring it back to his village.

I, I, should have known better

“Uh, Kacchan? Do you see that?” the younger green haired boy asked.

Katsuki glanced in the direction, seeing that there was a pair of bright red wings popping out of the bushes.

“Is that a dragon?” the green haired boy whispered.

“No one’s ever had dragon blood for their tattoo before!” Katsuki whispered back with a feral grin.

The grin was odd and misshapen, something he didn’t do often. It hadn’t quite grown on the ash blond yet.

“Oi! Dragon! Show yourself!”

Katsuki took his cutlass, slicing through the bush. As the leaves and branches from the bush fell, the front of the dragon was revealed.

And I can't feel no remorse

A black haired boy looked up at him with big red eyes. A pair of horns protruded from his forehead, their base a bright red. A tail stuck out of the other side of the bush, also bright red.

“Sorry! No hurt, please,”

Katsuki dropped his cutlass to the ground.

A dragon shifter.

They were a rare species, only two thousand known in the world throughout time.

“Are you hurt?” the green haired boy popped up beside Katsuki.

“Uh... wings. Stuck. Help?”

“Come with me afterward,” Katsuki said firmly.

“Huh?! Kacchan?! What are you doing?”

“Shut the fuck up, Deku,”

The boys freed the dragon shifter before Katsuki led him back to his parent’s castle.

“Oi, hag! Bring us a medic!” Katsuki yelled into the castle, kicking a door open.

“For fuck’s sake, Katsuki! Did you hurt Izuku aga--”

Queen Mitsuki entered the room, ready to whoop her son’s ass, only to find her son and the boy she called her nephew in perfect health. A third boy with dragon wings, scales, and horns, however, was not.

“Oh. Uhm... hello,” she said calmly.

The dragon boy gave a bow as Mitsuki called for a few medics.

And you don't feel nothing back

“Kacchan, it’s so weird for you to help someone like that. What about your tattoo?”

“Dumbass. Don’t you know that dragon shifters are a rare species? If I fucking killed one, I’d die, for sure. I’d be hunted down. And it felt... different. Like I couldn’t kill them, even if they weren’t a dragon shifter. I... they feel different,”

Katsuki sat outside of the infirmary where the dragon boy stayed.

Behind the door, the shifter had sat, listening. That was something he was good at. Listening. He didn’t know what most of it meant. He didn’t speak their language. Hell, he rarely spoke.

But hearing what the ash blond boy had to say made him feel weird. His tail thumped against the cot he sat on, a happy chirp leaving his mouth.

When Katsuki came back to see the dragon shifter, he was pounced on, happy chirping noises escaping his mouth.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Master! Teach fight!”

“What?! Master?”

“You save me. I stay until I save,”

Katsuki sat there, baffled. A dragon shifter wants to be his? And a cute one at that?

“So, you wanna know how to fight, huh?”

I, I, got a new girlfriend

“No fucking way, really?” Katsuki was snapped from his memories by Sero gawking at the drunken purple haired bard.

“Mhm! She’s super duper pretty,” she slurred happily. “She’s a princess!”

“Congrats!” Mina, the pink haired barkeep said with a smile.

“Oh, it’s Princess Yaoyorozu, right?” Tenya asked, sipping lightly from his glass of wine.

“Mhm! Momo is so great,” Jirou beamed.

Katsuki rolled his eyes, scoffing at Jirou’s words.

She feels like he's on top

The dragon prince-- no, king-- had changed greatly since he met the dragon shifter, Eijirou.

Katsuki’s original kingdom was attacked, his family and his people killed. It was bloody and traumatizing. He actually needed saving from Eijirou.

But he never left.

And I don't feel no remorse

“Oh! Katsuki!” Eijirou tugged on the king’s cape. “Look! Miss Frog brought her wife!”

He looked behind the bar to see Ochaco and Tsuyu, smiling sweetly at each other.

“Get a room!”

Denki and Sero laughed beside Katsuki before Ochaco flipped him off.

And you can't see past my blinders

“Ochaco, relax, kero,” Tsuyu mumbled.

“Yeah, Katsu’s just jealous that he can’t have what we have,” Ochaco said with a smile, pressing a kiss to her girlfriend’s nose.

“You want to be a lesbian?” Eijirou whispered to Katsuki, who choked on his brandy.

Eijirou frantically waved his hands. “Sorry! Hurt?”

Whenever Eijirou found himself flustered or speaking quickly, his speech would go back to the broken language he used when he was a child. It got his point across, it just wasn’t the most eloquent.

Oh, Ophelia

“I’m fine, shitty lizard,” he mumbled. “No, I don’t want to be a lesbian. I don’t like women. I would just want to date someone and... be happy with them, you know?”

“Oh! Dragons do that! We bite the neck of our mate, give our mate a mark!”

“What, some sort of binding mark?”

Eijirou nodded happily, a small chirp leaving his throat.

You've been on my mind girl since the flood

“Why hasn’t Ei gotten drunk?” Mina asked.

“Dragons don’t drink. Alcohol to them is like feeding chocolate to a dog,” Katsuki scoffed. “Figure you would’ve fucking known that since he’s declined your alcohol consistently for the past several years,”

“Mhm! Alcohol killed my family,” Eijirou said with a soft smile.

“Oh,” Denki murmured.

After the sudden dark turn, it was quiet. But only for a moment.

“Hi, Kacchan!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, turning to the green haired boy, who had Prince Shouto walking behind him.

“Done fucking the prince yet? Or are you still his spite boyfriend?” Katsuki snarled.

“How dare y--” “Shou, it’s okay,”

“Ah? Having the lapdog shush the prince? Doesn’t that deserve some sort of punishment?”

The shit eating grin on Katsuki’s face grew as Izuku’s face flushed at the word.

“Don’t be rude,” Eijirou hissed, smacking Katsuki’s shoulder. “Sorry for Katsuki. He is drunk.”

Oh, Ophelia

“Ah, it’s alright, Eijirou!” Izuku said with a grin.

“The master disobeying his dragon? Doesn’t that deserve some sort of punishment?” Shouto asked, giving a smug ass grin.

Katsuki’s grip on his glass tightened, the glass making a creaking noise.

“Shou!”

“What does he mean by that? I did not do anything wrong, did I? Did I go against a human rule again?” Eijirou whispered.

“No, Prince Shouto’s just being an asshole,” Katsuki mumbled.

“Stop being mean!” Eijirou said before pouting a little. “You’re better than that,”

Katsuki felt his heart clench at his oddly adorable dragon servant.

Actually, was servant the word to use? He didn’t feel as though Eijirou was his servant or inferior to him. Much more like a friend.

One day, hopefully more.

Katsuki groaned, smacking his head with the heel of his palm. He needed to stop thinking like that. Eijirou would be a friend and nothing more.

Heaven help a fool who falls in love

So maybe Katsuki did end up falling in love with his dragon shifter friend. What did it matter?

He wasn’t going to act on his urges to kiss him, hold him, tell him he loved him- no! That’s preposterous!

From time to time, he wonders what his mother would think of him if she saw him now:

Sitting in a bar as a dragon king, making fun of the prince of another kingdom, sitting beside his dragon shifter friend who he also held high affection for.

He was fucked, wasn’t he?

“Why did you hit yourself? Was there an insect? I could have gotten it for you,” Eijirou asked.

“You are not eating a fucking insect off my head again,”

“It was one time!”

“One time too many!”

I, I, got a little paycheck

“Anyway, Katsuki, we didn’t come here to hear endless innuendos,” Shouto sighed, pulling out a silken sack.

It jingled happily as it was dropped in front of Katsuki.

“We came here for the--”

“Yeah yeah, you came here for the head of that beast. I know. Ei, you got the satchel?”

“Right here!” Eijirou said, holding the heavy satchel, dripping in black blood. “The head is in a bag inside of the satchel. So grab the bag inside. Do not wear white gloves, I suggest black as that is the color of their blood,”

“Thank you, Eijirou,” Izuku said, giving a quick bow as he replaced his white gloves for black ones.

Katsuki was handed the sack and he popped it open.

“Ei, coin toss,” he growled, taking a golden coin and flicking it behind me.

Coin toss is what they’ve done to see if the money is genuine. Katsuki toss a coin behind him, Eijirou nibbles on it for a second, and then he gives it back if it’s good. If it’s bad, he eats it.

If he eats even a single coin, he has Katsuki’s permission to beat the shit out of them.

You got big plans and you gotta move

“Must you do this every time?” Shouto asked

“What, you give us a shit coin?” Katsuki asked, flipping Eijirou the next coin.

“No’ ye’,” Eijirou said, catching the coin between his teeth. “All solid,”

“Good. And yes, we fucking do, asshole,” Katsuki scoffed. “You could scam us out, and we’d have to kill ya for it,”

“Be nishe, Katshuki!” Eijirou said before slipping the coin out of his mouth.

And I don't feel nothing at all

“Hey guys, we’re gonna go head toward the inn! Heard they had a bonfire going! We also need to drop off our horses,” Sero said with his signature grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki scoffed.

After quickly checking the rest of the coins and making sure they were genuine, Katsuki closed the silken sack.

“Thanks,” he grumbled out.

“Sure thing, Kacchan! It was a pleasure to work with you!”

“Fuck off!”

And you can't feel nothing small

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“What is it?” Katsuki asked, turning to Eijirou.

“I want to show you a place,”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki had a smirk cross his face. “Where to, Shitty Lizard?”

“Come with me!”

Eijirou and Katsuki left the bar, leaving a few gold coins with small dents in them on the counter.

Eijirou stood behind the building, removing his clothing as not to rip them before Katsuki placed them in the satchel.

A few moments later, the redheaded hybrid became a full dragon, and the two tore up into the sky at vicious speeds.

But once they were over the clouds, Eijirou slowed to a glide.

“Nice job on speed. Doing better,”

A deep rumbling chirp came from Eijirou as they continued to soar above the clouds, Katsuki relaxing happily on Eijirou’s back.

Honey I love you, that's all she wrote

The duo began their descent, landing at the base of a mountain as Eijirou shifted back.

“So, what did you want to show me?” Katsuki asked, handing Eijirou his clothing.

“Top of the mountain,” Eijirou said, yanking on his clothes.

Katsuki blinked for a moment. “Then why the hell didn’t you fly us up there?”

“The path there is very pretty too,” Eijirou said, making Katsuki huff.

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s fucking go,”

Oh, Ophelia

The boys began their hike up the mountain. Nothing too rigorous, but still harder than a simple walk. Not like the two minded, though. They’ve grown used to things that take up far more energy than a hike.

“So, where exactly did you bring me?” Katsuki asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, we are climbing up a mountain. I cannot remember the name at the moment, so my apologies,” Eijirou chuckled, tugging at his scarf a tad.

“Fucking great. Any sort of civilization nearby?”

“Uhm... I believe there is a village that sits on the shore,”

You've been on my mind girl like a drug

Katsuki put a finger in his mouth, and after a moment, he pulled it out and held it to the sky.

The light breeze hit his wet finger tip, only a small part of it being cold.

“We in the East?”

After a moment, Eijirou nodded.

“Yes, yes!”

“And there’s a village by the water?”

Oh, Ophelia

“Yes, you will see it once we reach the top!” Eijirou chirped.

“So does the name Tuft Mountain ring any bells?”

“Oh, yes, yes!”

“And you wanted to show me the peak of Tuft?”

“Mhm!”

Heaven help a fool who falls in love

Katsuki knew what Eijirou was doing.

Anyone with half a damn brain cell knew what he was doing.

Oh, Ophelia

“YOU’RE FUCKING TAKING ME TO LOVER’S POND?!”

You've been on my mind girl since the flood

“Hush, hush! You’ll disturb the wildlife!” Eijirou said, thankful for the dark of the night that covered his flushed face.

The two reached the peak, and Katsuki’s eyes widened.

Oh, Ophelia

The pond was surrounded by gorgeous flowers and other wild grasses, waving in the breeze nonchalantly.

Fireflies dotted the sky, their little lights glowing up against the water’s surface.

The pond itself was an irregular heart shape, yet it was naturally formed.

Heaven help a fool who falls in love

Legend says that those who sit at one side of the pond will have their soulmate appear at the other side.

This could take minutes, hours, days, months, weeks, even years.

The pond is for those who are willing to wait for their soulmate.

Oh, Ophelia

Eijirou went and sat at one end of the pond, and waited.

Katsuki felt a tug.

You've been on my mind girl like a drug

As though he was being forced closer to the pond.

His head foggy and walk awkward, his body slowly made it’s way to the other side of the pond.

Oh, Ophelia

The two boys gawked at each other, vermilion and scarlet eyes locking, jaws dropping.

Katsuki knew what had just happened and knew what he’d done, but he hadn’t felt as though he was in control of himself.

A smile bloomed on Eijirou’s face.

He covered his mouth with his hands as tears clumped up in his lashes.

His tail thumped on the ground, wings beating, and sobbing chirps of joy escaping his mouth.

Katsuki felt his eyes water as well as he grinned.

Heaven help a fool who falls in love

A/N: Okay! Thank you so much for reading this! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it! I just get sudden impulses to write, so I do, and then you get this. Ooh! I’ve also never done this before, but I’m gonna start a tag list! I’ll do this for every story! I’ve only got one person and my beta readers, but feel free to ask to be on the tag list! You’ll get a notif for any oneshot I post! Or story! If you want to see my artwork, then please make that specification. So I’ll tag you in both or one or the other. Okay? Okay!

Tag list: @king-queenie, @violet-fandom, @siivermoon,

Okay! That’s all! Thank you!

#long post #kiribaku #kiribaku fantasy au #oneshot #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #krbk #songfic #ophelia the lumineers #the lumineers #fanfiction #fanfic #septic's stories

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aespawpaq · 3 years

Text

Netflix and Chill (3)

IMAX and CLIMAX

summary; The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack. warnings; fingering, blowjobs, tit play, praise kink, standing sex, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl kinda idk lol, daddy kink that morphs into i love u kink tags; sh is an avid history channel viewer, sh hates Barbie movies ik we took an L today girls 😔, sh goes thru like 4 personality changes (commanding > soft > mean > in love), honestly idk what to tag it’s a mess, he’s still cheesy and romantic but also 👀 just read word count; 9.8k

Sunghoon sees it on display during your weekly Target trip. You know he won’t say anything because despite how long you’ve dated he still likes to pretend he’s the epitome of adult maturity. Yet the way his eyes linger over the electronics section, cart rolling to a stop in front of the massive screen, tells you all you need to know.

“Baby, the toilet paper is this way,” you sing, giving the front of the cart a gentle tug that pulls it and his thoughts away from the television that seems to hold reign over his interest.

“Ah,” he mumbles as he shakes himself out of whatever trance he was in. “Right.”

The Target trip ends rather uneventfully; you grab all the items you came for and make the executive decision of swapping Sunghoon’s tangerine bathroom soap with strawberry instead. Normally he’d put up a good fight, argue about the comfort that came with consistency, but today he says nothing. You chalk it up to that flatscreen that hypnotized him earlier.

Sunghoon scoffs as he finally gets the two of you back onto the main road, Target and the flat screen left behind. “I didn’t,” he defends. “Just thought it was neat.”

You snort. “Neat. Okay, grandpa, did it tickle your pickle?” you tease, obnoxiously leaning over the center console to get all in his face. Sunghoon greets your proximity with a palm against your forehead.

You gag. “That’s actually disgusting.”

——

You graduate on a Saturday and your dorm stay expires on the Tuesday that follows. You spend the entire day shoving all your belongings into a variety of trash bags, from your weighted blanket to the collection candles you and Isa swore to light every night and never did. Speaking of Isa, she cries through the entire process. From the moment you take down the first wall decoration she’s in tears, and not even her mom, who’s come to help out, can quell her emotions. The girl cries and cries. She cries throughout the clean up, like she hadn’t spent the week before cursing the funky aircon system to hell and back. It’s probably the nostalgia that comes with leaving college, you assume. When Sunghoon picks you up around noon, even your eyes are glassy.

Sunghoon’s mom, who you only just met a few months ago, is over at his place when you arrive. You get along fairly well, in fact, you would even go as far as to claim you got along really well. You had first met her over this past spring break when Sunghoon invited you along to his family trip to some tropical island. The Jeons were lovely people. In fact, had Sunghoon not explicitly introduced them as his parents, you would’ve thought they were some sitcom actors carrying out the role of most in love, sophisticated lovers to ever exist. Yeah, they were super into each other, and you suppose it’s why Sunghoon is the way he is, loves as hard as he does. The only thing that broke their attention away from each other was the sight of their precious Sunghoonie bringing you to a family event.

It was hard to keep them entertained. Every second was spent worrying about your appearance, your demeanor, whether or not you looked like a devil beside their (your) angelic boy. It certainly didn’t help that Sunghoon was wearing that obnoxiously floral shirt at the restaurant you went to, the first three buttons undone almost lazily. It was a look your boyfriend rarely showed, always so meticulously dressed. Of course, he had that cute boyish style of his that consisted almost exclusively of baggy pants and designer tee’s a little too plain to cost as much as they did. But even those outfits had a specific Sunghoon rhythm to them— the darker tones always went with the pants that had twelve buckles on them; the long sleeves always went with the jeans. He was awfully particular about those kinds of self-set rules, and this jarring floral print did not fit any of them. It was too provocative, the black skinny jeans he’d paired with it too devious.

Maybe he knew what he was doing to you dressed so hot like this, but knowing Sunghoon, you doubt he did. His parents hadn’t batted a single lash his way, eyes laser focused on your every word as you stumbled through three plates and dessert. It was a battle you fought alone, and one you barely survived.

So despite you impressing his parents, she still gives you an odd look when you enter Sunghoon’s swanky townhouse with all your garbage bags of items. You promise her it’s just for the weekend, until your parents clean out your old room that they’ve filled to the brim with holiday decorations and miscellaneous objects. You’re not trying to take her baby chick out of the nest. (Yet.)

You watch TV for a couple hours, mostly her favorite soap operas on his 67 in. screen. It takes up a huge spot on the wall where it’s mounted, glossy black screen glaring back at you. Even his mom scolds him for such a huge screen, and you wonder how she’d feel about the absolute giant he ogled at the Target last week. Super angry, you think, and the image of her raging in flames while Sunghoon apologizes like the momma’s boy he is makes you giggle.

You pounce on him the second she’s gone. He goes down with a muffled yelp against the sofa, hands grasping at your waist until you straddle him and begin going to town. Your fun lasts all of two minutes before the old lady novella Sunghoon’s mom had been watching cuts to commercials and a loud advertisement for irritable bowel syndrome medication begins playing.

“Oh, that is so not sexy,” you whine childishly, trying to roll your hips over him again. Sunghoon laughs, all low and sweet as he sits back up again.

——

You rarely use the key Sunghoon gifted you a few months back. The majority of your visits to Sunghoon’s house were either the result of Sunghoon picking you up from somewhere and bringing you back, or Sunghoon inviting you over after dinner. In short, he was always with you when you arrived at his stoop.

His mom was going to kill him.

“ Sunghoon?” you call out slowly, inching back out into the hall with your gaze glued to the screen. Like maybe you’ve imagined this all and that isn’t the stupidly gigantic television screen Sunghoon had gawked at just a few weeks ago.

“You’re baby,” he tries to fight, but his limbs are so pliant under your touch that it practically means nothing. “I’m the head honcho around here.”

“Uh huh,” you appease him, finally managing to tug all that muscled body out of his seat. “And apparently that means making dumb purchases.”

“What dumb purchases? Are you talking about the cactus again?” he asks, letting you guide him back down the hall.

“Yes, hoon, the cactus you haven’t watered in three months,” you drawl sarcastically, the sad plant sitting in the kitchen a reminder of both your incompetence. “Heeseung would hate you for that.”

Not amused by the insinuation of his favorite senpai being disappointed in him, Sunghoon goes to fight you on that. By then you’ve stopped at the entrance of the living room, glaring at the straight up theater screen that sits on the wall. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mimic, flopping down on the ground beside the coffee table. Sunghoon doesn’t follow, choosing to sprawl himself over the couch instead. “What’s with the Jumbotron?”

You snort. “The experience— Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know I was speaking to Mr. IMAX here.”

His cheeks flush a soft pink at your jab. “Don’t be mean,” he mumbles, tugging on your arm as he sits back up. You find your way onto his lap, neatly seated over one thigh like he’s the Santa Claus at the mall; not a single gray hair in sight but you’d still let him call you his hoe, hoe, hoe. Realizing there’s more important matters to attend to than Sunghoon’s Christmas ham, you shake those images away.

“Good thing I brought a movie,” you beam, gesturing to the pretty pink case resting over top the takeout bag.

Sunghoon doesn’t even spare it a single glance as he burrows into your neck. “What? No, we’re finishing the docuseries on—“

You groan loudly to muffle the rest of his sentence. “hoon, I don’t wanna watch another episode on Stonehenge being done by aliens,” you whine, picking up the movie case to brandish in his face.

It’s admittedly the wrong move when Sunghoon’s eyes roll themselves into another dimension. “Absolutely not,” he says. The case is quickly discarded off to the side as he attempts to distract you with a kiss against your cheek.

Sunghoon sighs, dropping his head down against your shoulder. He smells good and feels even better over you, but you’re not going to stop until the Princess and the Pauper is breaking in the new Jumbotron. “It’s weird,” he huffs, voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “Especially when we start getting… experimental, and I have to listen to Barbie sing in the background.”

Sunghoon scoffs, finally letting himself snuggle completely into you. “You don’t even realize it because you’re screaming the whole way through.” That earns him a sharp tug at his ear that has him sputtering apology after apology.

“It’s boring!” you feel the need to emphasize.

Sunghoon sits up with an uppity look on his face. “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate the cinematography that comes from educational pieces,” he points out, rather presumptuously.

You shove him off of you. “I don’t care about cinnamon topography, just play the damn Barbie movie,” you hiss, swiping the movie case from the other end of the couch and pressing it to his chest. If words could hurt, yours definitely do. Sunghoon crumbles against the couch, childishly stomping one sock-clad foot against the ground as you gesture toward the movie player.

The TV turns on to some minimalistic home page, tiny widgets showing every app it has; the bottom row is dedicated almost entirely to Sunghoon’s massive streaming service provider collection. After a moment of brewing in his feels, Sunghoon quietly announces, “it’s on Amazon Prime.” This is news to you, being able to watch a Barbie film on a streaming service and not the old disk you scratched when you were ten. Something distinctly carnal flashes in your chest when Sunghoon clicks through all the payment options without a care in the world. Oh, that was definitely going into your horny 3 am dreams.

Despite his earlier protests, you know Sunghoon will soon fall into his usual movie watching habits. He settles into the couch beside you. You cuddle up next to him, enveloping him with the grip of a killer octopus choking out its prey, except Sunghoon is usually the one doing the choking in this relationship. Still, it’s not close enough, and you throw your legs over his thigh. You’re practically sitting on him at this point.

You have no doubt the speakers on this thing are average; it was too thin to really pack any punch. However, that was the TV sans the Bluetooth speakers Sunghoon has installed all around his house.

(You swear when the android uprising finally begins, your boyfriend will be the first one out.)

The speakers really amplify the sound. The opening sequence has your bones rattling inside your body, the loud music of the selection screen reverberating through the entire living room. It reminds you of that pounding COMING SOON clip that used to play at the beginning of DVD’s back in the day. Sunghoon scrambles to lower the volume. “Sweetheart, you’re cutting off my circulation,” he wheezes afterwards.

“What? This is how we always watch movies,” you say with a frown.

“Yes, and I always end up with less oxygen than before.”

“Shut up,” he says, settling in behind you. “Movie’s starting.”

Most Barbie movies you watch end up in one of two ways: either Sunghoon falls asleep twenty minutes in or he stays up until the end to critique every aspect of it. With the way he’d gone soft from your early battle, you’re guessing he was going to knock out before the Princess can even meet the Pauper.

Sunghoon says nothing, and you’re half convinced he’s taken his first preferred route and snoozed off, when his fingers twitch around your waist.

There it was.

The occasional dark horse candidate among Barbie movie binges— Sunghoon gets weirdly horny and fucks you to the tune of a classic Barbie movie soundtrack.

“Absolutely not,” you say, slapping a hand down over his before he can slip beneath the fabric of your shorts.

He complains quietly, but he settles.

For all of twenty seconds.

“Oh my god,” you sigh, trying to act like the subtle rutting of his cock on your behind was a nuisance and not the luxury it is. “Babe, the jumbo screen… look at it.”

“Not even jumbo,” he murmurs against your ear, hot breath sending a shiver down your spine that has your toes curling. You fight to keep his hands still, but the muscles in his forearm tense, inked skin contracting as he slips them between your thighs. You suck in a sharp inhale, trying to maintain your immovable front. Sunghoon sees the fortress you’ve built around yourself in the name of watching The Princess and the Pauper, and spares you no mercy with his attack. His hands massage the skin of your thighs, tiny shorts doing absolutely nothing to save you from him. “Jumbo didn’t fit.”

Belatedly, your stupid tongue remembers to move. “I know something jumbo that fits,” you babble, rolling your head back against his shoulder. Sunghoon laughs at the utter stupidity of your sentence, and the aforementioned jumbo thing fattens against your ass, before brushing his lips against yours. The airy laughter, one of your favorite sounds in the world, is swallowed up by your greedy mouth. “Can fit in two places, actually,” you murmur when he pulls away. His fingers massage the doughy skin of your boobs causing your back to arch slightly. “Wherever he wants it to.”

“Really,” Sunghoon teases, obviously entertained by your silly dirty talk. He’s grown used to your outlandish remarks in the past few months of your relationship.

You like to believe Sunghoon has fully accepted your occasional bouts of weirdness. He’s had the last few months to grow familiar with the inner workings of your mind, and even absorbed some of it into his own personality. Which is why he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by you referring to his cock as jumbo, when there were admittedly more fitting words to describe it as.

(Thick, juicy, angry, demon cock, if he really wanted to know.)

Sunghoon groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “Don’t,” he sighs, hands faltering over your breasts. Eventually they drift away, settling around your waist as you slip your fingers under the front of your bottoms.

“Why?” you laugh, pointer finger brushing along your clit. “Don’t like it when I call you that, Daddy?”

You know he loves it, but it never hurts to ask.

Between the two of you, you each had your own share of distinctive interests when it came to sex. Kinks, if you will. You adored the softer, vanilla aspects of sex— the languid makeouts, the slow rutting against his thigh, the whispered praise, the cute pet names. Meanwhile, despite his initially reserved exterior, Sunghoon preferred the other end of the spectrum. (You should’ve known from the get go!) He loved it fast and hard, so hard it would make you cry. He liked watching you squirm and beg for his cock while he pushed you to new heights. He liked the sticky, sweaty sex that left you feeling like a used rag beneath him, something you would have never expected given his neat and kind nature.

However, as with all things Sunghoon, you always came first. Sunghoon’s dream sex style was often pushed to the side in favor of pleasuring you. So quick and rough sex was more of a rare, once in a blue moon, type of luxury. Up until recently, sex had been mostly what you wanted. Either way you did things, Sunghoon was fine as long as he got to hold you close.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, the sleek drip of your arousal replaced with his saliva. Sunghoon grunts as he hauls you further onto his lap, swollen cock nudging itself between your cheeks. “You know I love it, baby,” he growls against your ear. His hot breath fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Have you had your fun now?” he asks, tracing the pads of his fingers around your nipple teasingly.

“Mhm,” you moan. Sunghoon’s hands decide they’re done toying with your tits, drifting back down to their original target between your shorts. “Want Daddy to fuck me now.”

He places a kiss against the side of your neck, right over the vein that runs beneath the skin. Sunghoon kisses and nips down your skin, until his hair is tickling your collarbones as he sucks a hickey against the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Is that the right way to ask for something?” he purrs, rubbing your cunt over your shorts.

It’s nowhere near as fulfilling as it would be without the garments. Nonetheless, it makes you ache for him, thighs quivering at the simple touch like you’re a bumbling virgin being touched for the first time. You’re nowhere near that, but every time with Sunghoon was exhilarating enough to the point it felt like it was.

“Pretty please,” you pant, covering his hand with yours.

Sunghoon rewards you with a fluttery kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl,” he hums. He finally gives you what you want, bypassing the fabric of your shorts and panties to dip his fingers between your folds. You gasp, hips jumping at the sudden brush of his hands along your quivering folds.

From your very first date you were enamored with him; the dip of his Cupid’s bow, so innocent and cute, embodied every single aspect of his personality. He was the sweetest, softest boy, one your brain could never conjure in a thousand years. Sunghoon’s level of care was hard to come by nowadays; he was a gentleman through and through.

Any other day Sunghoon would bask in the attention, let you bruise his skin up until he was violet from love.

Today… well.

You were playing a different game.

“No ‘please’?” he huffs, turning your head to meet his eyes.

The action makes Sunghoon scoff as he leans away from you. He leaves you on his lap alone, like a tiny island desperate to join the main land. You shuffle around in a hurry, looping your arms around his neck in a last ditch effort to calm him down. It does nothing for Sunghoon, who only prods his tongue along his cheek as he regards you with a calculating gaze.

After a moment, he finally says, “on your knees.”

Anywhere else you wouldn’t have minded. In fact, anywhere else you would’ve been on the floor before the sentence even left his mouth. You loved sucking his dick almost as much as he loved eating you out. However your knees were embarrassingly frail against hard flooring, which is why most blowjobs had been administered in the comfort of his bed or the couch. Sometimes on carpeted surfaces, but Sunghoon never pushed when he knew you would be aching the whole time.

Which is why his current demand has you standing stiff. “O-On the floor?” you murmur.

The stark truth was that Sunghoon had you terribly spoiled. His constant pampering had convinced you you were invincible. His love was practically handed to you on a silver plate, cloth napkin folded like a crane beside it. He had never made you do something you didn’t like, and he had never put you in an uncomfortable position, mentally or physically.

Until now.

Sunghoon gestures for the ground with a curt nod. “Is there a problem?” he inquires.

Sunghoon was so cool. He was so suave and composed. He was the opposite of you, which is why the two of you meshed so well together. You’ve thought about it about ten times tonight, but it was true. Despite all that, there were times his mature exterior made you feel small— small and silly. Like now, with him sitting against the sofa, dark eyes tracing up your legs in amusement.

You sink to the ground, very pointedly avoiding his gaze. The wooden slats are cold and hard beneath your knees, your kneecap immediately screaming in discomfort. Sunghoon leans forward with his elbows on his knees, messy curls covering half of his face. “You know,” he hums, reaching out to trail his knuckles across your cheekbone. “I kinda like having you like this,” he admits, “below me like the good little girl you are.”

Your breath stutters as it leaves your lungs, fidgeting hands tugging at the front hem of your shirt in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up. Sunghoon smirks at the movement, eventually retracting his hand to give you one, condescending pat on the head.

His sweatpants give away easily, elastic band snapping away from hips. You have to fight that and his boxers down, Sunghoon sitting like an immovable boulder in front of you. You barely manage to free his cock— the same jumbo cock you had referred to earlier —and it almost slaps you across the face from the force of its recoil. Your breath catches in your throat, a short-lived squeal as you flinch at the movement.

The sound causes him to look your way, over the bridge of his nose. “Do you mind?” he says scornfully. “I’m trying to watch a movie.”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer, quickly grasping his cock between your fist.

But apparently you’re doing everything wrong tonight. Sunghoon hisses. “Shit— would it kill you to lick it first? Like you’re trying to start a damn fire on my cock,” he mumbles, head lolling back to watch the screen again.

You move in slower this time, careful to lick your palm before trying to grab him. When you do, it’s even more delayed, fingers hesitantly tightening around his swollen member. You’re trying to gauge his reaction, worried eyes flickering up to him every few seconds. Sunghoon doesn’t object, craning his neck to the side to crack a joint there. With his clearance you carry on.

The strokes are slow at first, hand barely reaching over his tip like he likes. You’re weirdly anxious you’ll mess up for him, make him look at you with contempt. You suppose it’s because of the game you’re playing that you’re on edge. Usually, Sunghoon adheres to your rules, soft as they may be, and he never pushes where you don’t want. Tonight, it’s like you’re a show dog desperate to impress her owner. In short, you were his bitch.

You loved it.

As much as you wanted to be good for him, the mere thought of your normally sweet-hearted boyfriend glaring down at you does something to you, makes your pussy clench.

When his cock hits the back of your throat, you’re ten chapters deep into an erotic novel all about sucking Sunghoon‘s dick. If your eyes weren’t already shut you’re certain they’d be at the back of your head anyway. It twitches against your tongue, one thick bead of precum sliding down your throat.

It seems to be the final straw for Sunghoon, who clamps a hand down on the back of your head, forcefully pulling you away only to shove you down again. With his grip in your hair, he really goes to town. You whimper at his brutal movements, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every harsh tug of your hair. The slippery, wet glide of his cock against your mouth fills the room with a lewd squelching that drowns out the movie.

Your pussy quivers with each new intrusion, thighs pressing together as if that will quell the searing ache between them. It doesn’t, and when Sunghoon finally bursts in your mouth, creamy cum splattering against your tongue and lips, it only grows.

Sensing your uncertainty, Sunghoon tugs you onto his lap. He presses one soft kiss against your cheek, eyes momentarily losing their hard edge to assure you everything is fine. You give him a tiny nod, as if assuring him you’re okay. He presses his mouth to yours, plush lips soothing over your raw lips. It’s brief, the kiss; he guides you through it but switches back quickly. He pulls away and bites down harshly on the side of your neck. “So perfect for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, soothing his bite over with a swipe of his tongue.

You dissolve into a mushy puddle on his lap, muscles growing weak from his touch. Sunghoon kisses down your neck, over your t-shirt clad chest, before he’s nudging you back down onto the cushions. With him looming over you, your body instinctively has you spreading your legs apart. His t-shirt comes up with one yank over his shoulders, sinewy muscles coming into view.

“Yum,” you whisper, hands reaching up to trail over his v-line. They’re quickly slapped away, a startled gasp pulled from your lips as Sunghoon takes your wrists in his hands.

Sunghoon mouths against your shoulder, lips tracing over the juncture where it meets your neck. “Hm,” he hums, taking a tiny sliver of skin between his teeth. “And if I said I wanted it hard?”

When the material is finally discarded off to the side, leaving you in that flimsy bra Sunghoon that snaps off, he strikes again. His tongue laps over your collarbone first, pouty lips ghosting over the skin as he makes his way to your breast. He takes one hardened peak into his mouth, drawing a shaky inhale from you. He rolls it between his teeth, tongue flicking the sensitive nub as you squirm beneath him.

Eventually he pulls away with a wet pop. Sunghoon smirks, a soft puff of air fanning over your newly bruised skin. “Aren’t you the prettiest little thing.” He pushes away from you with one strong arm, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Watch the movie,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

Before you know it, he’s tugging you back up onto your feet. He pushes you around, nearly sends you toppling over the coffee table as he positions you to his liking. “hoon!” you exclaim, palms slapping down against the glass tabletop in an effort to catch yourself. Just barely, your reflection glares back up at you.

A tap against your pussy startles you from the sight. “Wha—“

It is in fact your favorite movie, the same one you had fought tooth and nail just moments prior to watch. On screen, the two damsels are exploring new things in their lives, just how you were experiencing Sunghoon’s true intensity for the first time. “It is,” you quietly confirm, back aching from the position.

Sunghoon either doesn’t care about your depleting strength or really trusts in you not to faceplant onto his glass coffee table, palms sliding down to the crease of your elbows to hold you. “Tell me what it’s about,” he says

Just as the words leave his mouth, something hard and wet prods against your folds. “Oh,” you cry, fists tightening into balls as the feeling overwhelms you. “ Sunghoon, please.”

One elbow is let go, and the abrupt release has you scrambling to catch yourself, your glass reflection coming a little too close. This becomes even more difficult when a hand suddenly strikes down hard against your ass, a startled yelp escaping you. Just as quickly as you were released, Sunghoon wastes no time snatching your back up, yanking you back until your cunt runs along his cock again.

“C’mon, pretty, thought you knew better,” he sighs playfully.

Sunghoon chuckles, and your heart backflips when he finally begins lining himself up. “It’s okay,” he assures you, in that same gentle tone he uses when you accidentally shove the wrong food down the sink disposal. “Baby’s still learning,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss against your shoulder as he begins pushing himself in. Just the head of his cock proves to be a struggle, swollen tip stretching your entrance wide. There’s an extra sting today from your half-hearted preparation, the both of you relying solely on your own arousal and excitement to let him in. It’s a nice kick.

A warning squeeze around your wrist. “Language,” Sunghoon reprimands, though his voice is strained and light.

You nod mindlessly, toes curling against the wooden floor. “It-It feels so good,” you whine. Your knees wobble dangerously beneath you, until you’re swaying just the slightest bit.

The praise has your stomach tightening, the pretty images flashing across the screen completely lost on you. You felt so full. The two of you rarely did it like this, without looking at each other straight on, but there was something about Sunghoon’s looming figure being distorted by your brain’s memory, his touches wild and unpredictable, that made something inside of you twitch.

Behind you Sunghoon tuts at your incompetence, thrusting forward with an intensity that would have sent you flying if not for the grip he has on you. “You don’t know?” he huffs, tugging your elbows back again as if to secure his grip on you.

You suppose he’d been too lenient on you up until now, and that final claim makes him snap. Sunghoon scoffs, ramming his dick inside of you. “You’re being fucking terrible right now, doll,” he admits, hammering into you like a crazed man. You sob, the coil in your belly tightening with every brutal shove of his cock. It’s something about the way his composure withers away, all sweetness melting off as he thrusts into your cunt. “I’ve asked you twice now what the damn movie was about, and you didn’t answer either time.”

“And?” Sunghoon asks as you trail off, his words followed by a particularly brutal surge of his hips. His cock glides against your walls easily despite the way you clench around him.

“A-And they have problems they wanna avoid,” you stammer, the plot slipping in and out of your mind with every roll of his cock into your core. “So-so they swap places.”

Behind you, Sunghoon snorts. “What a stupid fucking movie,” he says meanly, before he begins to piston his cock into you. You’re trembling by now, your orgasm looming over your head with each thrust.

Before you can warn him, the thin string holding you together snaps, the sudden flood of relief making your knees buck dangerously. Sunghoon barely has enough time to catch you around the waist, holding you against him as a litany of curses and his name come spewing out of your mouth. “No, no,” you wail, your entire body twitching as the orgasm rolls over you. “hoon— Sunghoon!”

“I’m sorry,” you whimper, faintly aware of the rock hard cock between your pulsing walls, probably drenched in your cum now. “I-I didn’t—“

He shushes you quickly, settling the two of you back onto the couch. Funnily enough, he doesn’t bother pulling you off of him, his dick snug inside your cunt as he seats you on his lap. “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he comforts, hands soothingly running up your sides. You want to protest, want to get back on your knees and give him another chance to cum all over your face, but Sunghoon nudges your chin with a knuckle. “Watch your movie,” he croons.

The Princess and the Pauper is literally the last thing on your mind right now; didn’t he realize how much you wanted to please him? Why was he choosing now to be so stubborn? Oh, that Park Sunghoon, maybe Isa was right to call him an airhead.

Your slander campaign against your boyfriend is cut short when a hand flutters over your mound, thumb idly tracing over your sensitive clit. Before you can turn and look at him, Sunghoon is rutting his hips against you slowly. “The screen, baby,” he says, and you want to argue that you can’t possibly enjoy a movie with him being so sneaky beneath you. The words get washed away when he presses down on your clit.

“Koo— Daddy,” you whine, lower lips still trembling from the orgasm you had two minutes ago. Sunghoon responds with a kiss against your shoulder, hands trailing around your waist.

“No more of that,” he mumbles as he begins bouncing you on his cock. You moan, every inhale cut short by the shallow thrusts of his cock into your delicate walls. “Just your hoon now.”

“My… hoon,” you pant dreamily. Your cum provides an even better lubricant than before, lewd squelches filling the area alongside your cries as Sunghoon chases both your second orgasms.

Something inside of you tightens painfully, and you’re not sure if it’s your heart or your pussy. You guess it’s both, as you stutter out, “y-your pretty girl?” Sunghoon hums in agreement, repeating your favorite nickname back to you. The rest of your words die out between the two of you, lost in the slow and soft movements that fill in. You want to tell him you love him, adore him like no other, but every breath of air is stolen away by him.

Eventually the two of your are cumming, your second orgasms much quieter and slower compared to your first. You still mewl, wither against him when you cream his cock, and Sunghoon catches you all the same. He guides you through the fog with kisses against your jaw, your dripping pussy helping him through his own.

“You’re gross,” he retorts softly, blinking in that slow, drawn out way he does when you know he’s sleepy. His t-shirt runs along your neck, collecting the sweat there.

Sunghoon laughs quietly, looking at you with an adoring expression on his face. He doesn’t even finish cleaning you off, tossing the soiled shirt somewhere off to the side in favor of cuddling into you. “Where? My Jumbotron?” he teases, raining down a parade of kisses against your face. “Don’t wanna,” he smiles, too soft and boyish for the words that leave his lips next. “Wanna lick your pretty pussy clean.”

“Park Sunghoon,” you scold, covering your face with your palms in embarrassment. “Look at your stupid IMAX screen and leave me alone.”

“Get off of me.”

——

Just as you predicted, Sunghoon’s mom gives him the scolding of a lifetime when she drops by the next weekend. The poor woman nearly faints at the theater screen on the wall, only to quickly regain herself. You giggle from your spot on the couch as she whacks his stupidly ripped bicep with the leek you’re supposed to chop up for dinner later.

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heyyyharry · 4 years

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Chapter 5: The North Mountain

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which Harry and Y/N set off on a new journey and get stuck in another snowstorm.

Word count: 4.6k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

THEY’RE BACKKKKKKK! There’s another cave scene in this chapter 👀

“Are you sure, Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Y/N told Mary for the third and final time, hoping that she’d sounded determined even though her voice was wavering. She could feel Lance’s eyes burning holes on the side of her face. He didn’t want her to go through with this.

The throne room was utterly quiet. There were just the three of them and two guards standing by the door. Y/N hated how loud her heart was beating, as if even it could tell this was a bad idea.

“The journey won’t be easy,” Mary said, lacing her hands together in front of her crotch. “Many have tried to find the lake and those who returned had not even made it halfway to the top of the mountain.”

“I know,” Y/N said coolly.

Mary quickly looked from her to Lance as if expecting him to interrupt and convince Y/N that Harry wasn’t worth all this danger. But Lance kept a straight face, as usual, masking what he truly felt inside.

Mary drew in a breath. Then, she took the silver ring with a black gemstone off her finger and wiped it clean with the sleeve of her dress. “When my sisters and I were born,” she said, “each of us was given a ring like this. It was enchanted with our mother’s blood, so as long as the stone was red, it meant all three of us were alive in this world. That was how I knew my sisters were gone. After I’d escaped from Egon’s men, the stone faded to brown and eventually to black.” She turned to Lance. “This ring will let you know if the Queen’s in danger.” And back to Y/N. “All it takes is a drop of your blood, Your Majesty.”

Y/N met Lance’s uneasy gaze. He sighed and drew out the dagger attached to his belt and handed it to her. She held it firmly, biting her lip and pressing the tip of the blade into her finger until blood oozed out of the cut. Mary took hold of Y/N’s wrist and placed her finger above the ring. The red drop fell onto the stone and it glowed like a tiny flame before subsiding to a dimmer red.

“Blood calls to blood,” Mary said, giving the red-stone ring to Lance. He put it on as Y/N put the finger into her mouth, tasting the iron sting of her own blood. “If the colour darkens, it means she’s in danger. If it turns black, she’s dead.”

The way Mary said it, so assertively and pitifully, sent a chill down Y/N’s spine. But for Harry and her kingdom, she must not be afraid.

Harry hadn’t expected to see the Queen in the stable. Who would expect to see a Queen out here in the middle of the night?

“What are you doing here?” she asked, looking equally surprised to see him.

He flashed a beam and continued stroking the black horse. “I ran into Jo and she told me to go feed the horses.”

“Feeding the horses isn’t your job,” Y/N said, arching an eyebrow.

Harry’s eyes widened. “It’s not?”

Y/N was speechless for a moment before she sighed. “Guide to surviving in my court: do not take orders from a maid.”

Heat pooled at Harry’s cheeks yet he managed to conceal his embarrassment with a grin. “Sorry. Your maid is pretty scary for a maid.”

Y/N shook her head as she broke into a smile. And Harry felt that weird sensation in his chest again. She’d been cold and distant since the last time they’d spoken two weeks ago. He hoped she’d forgiven him for what he’d done. Even though he didn’t know her, he felt a strong connection between them. He hadn’t had any nightmare lately about her jumping off a cliff or bleeding out to death on the floor, but those scenes had been stuck on his mind ever since the last time. He wished he knew what they meant or if they meant anything at all. That was one of the reasons he’d agreed to join her on this impossible quest – to make sure his nightmares wouldn’t come true.

“What are you doing here?” he asked and quickly added, “Your Majesty.”

Y/N’s mouth twitched subtly as she came closer. The black horse pawed the ground and snorted as if it were happy to see her.

“I’m here to say goodnight to Thunder,” she said, stroking the animal’s head.

“Thunder,” Harry echoed.

“I know what you’re thinking. Northerners have weird names for their horses,” she said. That was exactly what he was thinking. “You two have met before.”

“Thunder and I?” Harry asked, pointing to his chest.

Y/N nodded. “He was my ride on the journey last year. Would you like to see your horse?”

He said yes. And so she led him further into the stable to a beautiful brown horse who neighed and nuzzled Harry’s chest as soon as it saw him. Harry chuckled and stroked the horse’s back.

“Her name’s Lightning,” Y/N said and laughed when Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m serious.”

Harry didn’t remember having ridden Lightning before, but he felt like he knew her in the same way he felt like he knew Y/N. The memories might not be there, but the feelings were.

“Will it be just the four of us again tomorrow?” he asked.

“No, some of my men will be joining us. They’ll carry food and water.”

“What about the King?”

Y/N paused for a bit longer. “Lance must stay here. Someone has to run the court while I’m away.”

“And Attwell?”

“He’ll travel back and forth if necessary.”

Harry had heard from the maids that the people in Attwell loved Lance and were excited about the wedding. Y/N would probably receive the same amount of adoration in Isolde if she were a man. There hadn’t been any protests in the past weeks. Harry assumed Calanthe must be planning something else, so Lance had to stay here to pacify the court during the Queen’s absence. He wanted to ask Y/N about it, but he knew she wouldn’t discuss such matters with a peasant.

“Why doesn’t His Majesty go instead?”

Y/N’s expression remained the same as if she’d been expecting the question. “This is my kingdom,” she said, “so it's my responsibility, not his.”

“But he’s going to be your husband,” Harry ventured.

“So?” She lifted her chin proudly. “You think it’s because I’m a woman I cannot finish a job?”

“No, Your Majesty.” Harry could not help but smile. “I think you’re perfectly capable of getting the job done. It’s just...I wouldn’t let my woman risk her life out there while I’m safe here in the castle.”

“Lance insisted on going for me, but I didn’t let him,” Y/N said. “Just like you, I wouldn’t let my betrothed risk his life out there while I’m safe here in the castle.”

“Ahhh, so that’s what betrothed means,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. When Y/N didn’t reply and turned her attention to Lightning, he felt the need to keep this conversation going. “So...why are we searching for the lake? You asked me to come with you but you never told me why.”

Y/N straightened her back and folded her arms over her chest. There was something so serene about her, and Harry would sometimes catch himself staring unblinkingly at her face. He didn’t know if he was allowed to gawk at a sovereign, but Y/N didn’t seem to mind.

“One drop of water from that lake,” she began, “could cure the deadliest disease, heal broken bones, make a mute person talk and a deaf person hear. So if the lake exists and we have access to its powers, we’ll have a great chance of winning against the enemy.”

Harry pressed his lips together and shifted his gaze to his feet. Y/N let out a chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re changing your mind now.”

“I still want to go,” he said. “It just doesn’t make sense to me why you chose me to go with you. I’m flattered, Your Majesty. But I’m also confused.”

“Because we’re partners in crime,” she said. “Even though you don’t remember anything about our journey, I believe we’ll make a good team as we did, you and I.”

Harry swallowed as he nodded slowly. Being trusted by the Queen with this important quest made Harry anxious and elated at the same time. “I hope this trip will bring back my memories,” he said, then realized he was unconsciously twisting the gold ring on his finger. “Do you know how I got this ring?” He raised his hand. “I asked Kenny and she didn’t know, so I assumed I might have stolen it. I’m not feeling guilty, it’s just weird to wear a piece of jewellery that you stole without knowing how you stole it.”

To his surprise and delight, Y/N broke into laughter. “I gave it to you.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. It was a reward for saving my life at the Wind Valley.”

“Wow.” He admired the ring. Now that he knew how he’d got it, he started looking at it differently. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said.

He dropped his arm back to his side and let out a sharp breath. “I can’t believe we’ve crossed the Wind Valley and done all those crazy things and I don’t remember anything.”

“I suppose we’ve made a lot of impossible things possible,” she said with a faltering smile. “But that was nothing compared to this. I need to know you’re ready.”

“I am.” He gave a firm nod. “I’ll try my best. That’s the least I could do for you before I leave the court.”

“Right,” Y/N said, almost to herself than to him.

He walked her out of the stable. It was snowing. She told him she could get back to her chamber on her own and wished him goodnight. Harry clasped his hands together behind his back as Y/N turned and started walking away.

He suddenly felt the need to shout after her. “You don’t have to worry! I’ll protect you and get you home safely to the King.”

Slowly, Y/N looked back over her shoulder. Their eyes locked, and a flicker of memory flashed across Harry's mind. It’d been snowing like this. They’d been at this same spot right outside the stable. Y/N was sitting on Thunder’s back, white snow falling all around them, decorating her hair with silvery flakes.

Reality rushed back into his vision when she spoke, “I can look after myself. You keep yourself safe.”

He opened his mouth yet could not utter a word.

Her red lips curled gently. And then she was gone.

“What is it?”

Y/N’s voice brought Lance back to reality. He cast her a single glance before scanning his eyes around. They were standing outside the portcullis. The sky was just growing light. Men were already gathered, faces red in the morning chill as they saddled the horses that snorted clouds of steam.

“Nothing,” Lance lied, not looking at Y/N. He hoped she couldn’t see through his feigned nonchalance, although it hadn’t been effective lately. Y/N had acclimated to his attitude. Sometimes he thought she had to be the only person left in this world who really knew him. It was sad, as the more attached he grew to her, the more it’d hurt when she got back to Harry.

He unconsciously twisted the red-stone ring around his finger while keeping an eye on the soldiers and servants, acting occupied.

“I’ll be back in two weeks,” she said despite his silence. “Don’t miss me too much.”

He turned back to her. She was beaming. The dawn had reddened her nose and cheeks, and as he stared, he completely forgot what to say.

“I won’t,” he mumbled, averting his eyes before she could sense his anxiety.

She placed her hand on his arm and he tried his best not to react to her light touch. He didn’t like the person he’d become when he was around her. Always so sensitive and predictable.

“I trust you not to plot on overthrowing me while I’m away,” she joked.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know, my lady, your throne seems much more comfortable than mine.”

Y/N’s eyes wrinkled at the corners as she tilted her head. “When I get back, I’ll have a special cushion made for your throne.”

“I’ll hold onto that promise,” he said, flashing her his signature grin.

They were interrupted by Harry shouting at a servant for threatening Lightning with a whip. He shoved the man out of the way, obviously angry as he took the mare with him and whispered something to comfort her.

“He seems more himself lately,” Lance remarked.

Y/N only shrugged. It made him wonder what she felt inside.

She hadn’t spoken of Harry since she’d found him with the maid. Everyone in court was convinced that she was looking for the lake to use it as a weapon against Calanthe, and not to save Harry’s life. Lance didn’t want to get his hopes up. The things she did and said always contradicted the look she’d give Harry when he wasn’t looking – like she’d die for him. But he’d already died for her and was probably not coming back.

Lance told himself to never settle to be the second choice or even a choice; he’d been that his entire life being born a bastard. Yet, he would find himself looking at her that same way.

“We’re ready to go, Your Majesty,” said one of the men.

Y/N nodded once before turning to Lance. She held his gaze for a moment, probably rearranging the words in her head to make a proper sentence. She’d once told him that she was bad at goodbyes. He hadn’t thought one day he’d get to see it.

He mustered a smile and pulled the hood of her fur coat over her head, leaving only her face exposed. He cupped it with his gloved hands and she placed her hands over his. If it hadn’t been for the promise he’d made after the first and last time they’d been intimate, he would kiss her right now.

“Try not to die,” he said.

Y/N’s lips arched as she held his wrists. “Even if I die, I’ll come back as a ghost and haunt you and your new bride.”

He chuckled.

To his surprise, she pushed his hands down to close the distance between them and pressed her cool lips to his cheek. He instinctively tugged her in, hugging her like he’d always wanted as she wrapped her arms around his neck. The hug didn’t last for long. And when she pulled away, she turned at once and trudged toward Thunder.

Lance stood with his hands behind his back, watching her mount her horse and shout orders at the men. Harry was on the horse beside the Queen. For the first time since his return, he was looking at her the same way the old Harry would.

Jo had been watching Lance pace these halls for the entire day after Y/N had left. He looked restless and would keep checking the ring on his finger. It had been funny at first, but now it only concerned Jo.

Of course, Jo was worried about Y/N, too. But from everything that'd happened, she’d learned that every time people doubted Y/N, she’d proven them wrong. And so Jo believed in her. Besides, Y/N had been alone the last time. This time she had a group of soldiers to protect her. The biggest concern should be the existence of the lake. But it was not Jo’s responsibility to think about it. Worrying would do them no good. Life had to move on here in court with or without the Queen.

“Are you kidding me?” Jo asked as she picked up her skirt and chased the King down the long corridor. Lance’s legs were longer so he strode ahead effortlessly while she was out of breath trying to catch up with him. “I’m not sharing a room with the witch!”

“She’s not a witch anymore,” he said easily. “Besides, now that the Queen is gone, it’s time for you to make new friends.”

“Said the loneliest man in the world!” she jeered.

Lance stopped walking and turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you always so mean?"

She folded her arms, chin lifted. “I’m not sharing a room with the witch.”

“Too bad. I’m the one giving orders.” He spun on his heels and she immediately circled around him to stand in his path.

“Why should she get to live here anyway?” she said in annoyance. “She helped Calanthe kidnap Harry, tortured him and erased his memory. She should have been hung by now.”

Lance regarded an angry Jo as he tightened his jaw and sucked in a breath. “Y/N specifically requested that Mary stayed with you.”

“What? Why?”

The King lifted a shoulder. “Mary’s sister was the one who brought you back to life, wasn’t she? Don’t you think you should at least be nice to her?”

“Yes, her sister, not her!”

“The poor girl has lost everything and everyone, Jo. Have sympathy,” Lance said. “And I don’t hit women, but if she pulls some tricks, you can easily take her down.”

Jo put both hands on her hips as her mouth fell open. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lance snorted, shrugged again and sidestepped her. He was walking away when his footsteps slowed and he stopped, standing rigid, staring at his hand. For a second Jo thought he was going to change his mind, but then he turned around and his face was pallid. “The ring,” he said.

Jo’s gaze dropped to his finger. The stone on his ring had turned to a darker red. A prickling sensation shot up Jo’s spine as she locked eyes with the King, both of them horrified.

Their Queen was in danger.

A bad storm hit as soon as Y/N and her men entered the forest at the foot of the North Mountain. The powerful wind roped itself around them, wanting to either choke them or yank them off their saddles. The horses pushed through the deep snow as the trees swayed back and forth, bending in every direction while the howling of the wind grew louder and more frightening.

Y/N could not see. She shielded the flying snow from her eyes with one arm while looking around for shelter. Unfortunately, her vision was blurred by the raging storm, and she was unable to see further than a few feet ahead. The wind became more bitter and vicious. Horses neighed and men shouted. Y/N told everyone to stay calm, not sure if anyone could hear her. The only thing that kept her sane was Harry being by her side from the moment they’d set off. She thought about what he’d said outside the stable last night. Maybe he really wanted to protect her.

A human scream tore through the crying of the wind, making Y/N snap her head up and strain her ears to listen. It was a woman shouting for help. It grew louder and clearer and more desperate by seconds. Somebody else was here in the forest in this storm. But why?

“We must move, Your Majesty!” Harry yelled at her.

“Did you hear that?” Y/N shouted back.

“What?”

“A woman! There! She’s calling out for help!”

“I hear nothing.”

“How can you not hear that? There it is again!” cried Y/N, but Harry only looked at her as if she were mad. She shook her head quickly. “That woman needs our help. We must save her.”

“Are you insane?” he growled. “We can’t even save ourselves!”

The woman screamed again. She sounded as if she were in pain. Y/N thought about the dying pregnant woman she’d pulled out of the burning house and her conscience didn’t let her move on. “Wait here! I’ll be back!”

“Y/N!” Harry snapped. But she’d already pulled the reins and kicked her horse into a gallop.

She hurried through the snow, chasing the screams until she saw a figure crawling on its hands and knees across the white snow. Y/N flew off her horse and rushed toward the woman. She could barely make out the woman’s face through the wind but Y/N knew she was alive.

Y/N swore she could hear the fizz and crack of her own heart breaking. Her hood was thrown back by the wind. The cold stabbed its talons into her skin like a thousand little cuts with a serrated blade. She reached for the woman’s arms to help her up, but as soon as she closed her fingers around what should be human’s flesh, she was grasping at nothing.

The woman had vanished.

In one violent crack, the ice broke beneath Y/N and shattered into a hundred tiny fragments, sending her plummeting into the black water.

A million knives stabbed her skin, slicing her open. Her lungs contracted as her numb hands clawed for something to hold onto. She wanted to yell. Her ribs crushed her heart, and her whole body started caving in.

As her eyes shivered open, Harry’s face was the last thing that she saw through the surface.

Harry knew something was wrong when he saw Y/N get off Thunder’s back and head straight toward the frozen river.

He’d forgotten about everyone else. His thoughts were running wild. He threw himself off Lightning’s back and hurried after her. She was standing out on the ice when he’d caught up. He called out to her, but she didn’t look back. Her hood was off and her head was bare, the wind churning up around her, making her look as if she were made of magic.

And then the ice gave way beneath her. A shudder and a crack and she disappeared into the river.

Harry ran. His heart flattened against his ribs. His feet were slipping on the ice. He dropped to his knees at the edge of a vast hole, plunged his arms into the black water and seized her hand floating just above her head. He pulled her up, dragging her onto the ice and into his arms.

He didn’t remember how they’d got back to their horses. Fear and panic had blurred his mind. They were lost. The others had either moved on without them or stuck somewhere in the storm. There was no time to look for them because he must find a place to hide and light a fire.

Y/N was shivering in his arms. Small ice crystals had formed in her hair and on her lashes and brows. He pushed her onto Lightning’s back and mounted the horse, sitting behind her, her head resting against his chest.

Suddenly, Thunder reared upon his hind feet. Harry feared that the animal thought he’d hurt Y/N. But then Thunder snorted and sprinted ahead. Harry knew the horse wanted him to follow so he kicked Lightning and chased after Thunder. He held the rein with his right hand, holding Y/N in his fur coat with his left arm. The cold was so unbearable that every breath he took caused him pain.

They rode and rode. The wind slapping against their bodies until Thunder stopped at the entrance of a cave hidden behind snow-covered branches. The black horse entered first and Harry and Lightning followed. The further they walked, the warmer it became, but it was not enough to melt the ice from their clothes.

Harry dismounted his horse and placed Y/N onto the ground, holding her closer to him to share his body heat. It was not working. Her clothes were all soaked. The only thing that let him know she was alive was her hot breath against his cheek.

“Stay with me,” he hissed, stroking her back.

His heart stammered as her eyelids fluttered. “I’m tired,” she croaked. “I’m going to sleep.”

“No.” He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a firm shake. “You’re not going to sleep. Promise me, Y/N.”

“I promise.”

Carefully, he laid her down and gathered as many dry sticks as he could find. The horses helped. It was obvious that they’d been trained for rescue missions.

Harry managed to light a fire which he hoped wouldn’t go out too soon.

Fuck, he hoped Y/N wouldn’t go out with it.

He quickly got back to her and dragged her back into his arms. “Here, stay close to the fire.”

The ice in her hair began to melt but her face grew bluer every passing moment. Now he was really afraid. He didn’t want her to die like this, in this cave.

“You saved me,” she spoke, her voice brittle. “Why?”

He schooled his face as their eyes met. “What do you mean?”

“I thought...I thought you hated me,” she said.

He swept her damp hair out of her face and frowned. “I don’t hate you, Peach.”

He hadn’t meant to call her that. It’d slipped out. He didn’t think she’d heard it, because she didn’t react. She was going to pass out.

He shook her again, forcing her to keep eye contact. “Tell me something,” he said. She needed to keep her brain working. “Tell me your most precious memory.”

Y/N’s face contorted as she shook her head. “I-I don’t know.”

“Think.”

She swallowed dryly, her purple lips quivering before she could manage, “Sunset.”

“What else?”

“Sunset...sunset…”

“No, Y/N, look at me!”

But she couldn’t.

Her eyelids slipped shut and her head fell to the side.

“No, no, no,” he chanted, shaking her as hard as he could but she did not respond. She was still breathing but it was becoming weak.

Harry had no other choice. Either this or she'd die.

“Forgive me, please,” he murmured and hurriedly removed her coat and the rest of her sodden clothes before he sloughed off his and spread their clothes beside the fire. His face burned with shame as he took her into his arms and wrapped his fur coat around their naked bodies.

He’d been close to many women, but none of them had been dying, so he told himself there was nothing to be embarrassed about. He was only saving her life.

Her face was buried into his chest. She smelled like winter. He continued stroking her wet hair until her breath grew steadier and her skin warmed up. The relief and ease that coursed through him felt too good to resist. He allowed exhaustion to engulf him and finally shut his eyes.

Outside, the storm was still raging, but at least for now, they were safe. He was just about to drift off when he felt her arm hook over him as she snuggled closer. If she were awake, she’d be able to hear how violent his heart was thumping against his chest. He thought about what she’d said, sunset, and tried to figure out what it meant, until finally, sleep took over him.

In the North castle, Lance sat by the fire, its glow illuminating his face. He heaved a sigh of relief and buried his head into his hands.

The ring on his finger had turned from black to red.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #tctm series #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfics #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

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coeurdastronaute · 4 years

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Heartbeat

In a heartbeat the short film... that in an au where your heart literally chases after the person you love. Imagine that with smol lexa being all what is an emotion but her heart is all !!! every time clarke is around. Also pls have it in the canon universe cause that would be a lot more hilarious if the commander of 12 clan's heart is constantly chasing after the commander of death

The rain was not going to interrupt training. It didn’t matter that the world was sloshing full of mud and everything was drenched through completely. The initiates stood at stance one and waited for the signal to attack, defend, and parry.

Even so young, Lexa was deemed a favorite for the conclave. Agile and fast, smart and fierce, she exhibited all of the traits of a good and just ruler. But as the signal went, she proved to those who watched why she was a force to be reckoned with, laying her opponent flat on their back in a matter of seconds and with such dexterity, it was as if she was the rain, moving so quickly, so naturally.

“Lexa, good,” Anya muttered, looking down over her cheekbones as she surveyed the other fights.

With the smallest of grins, the girl of eight nodded and extended her hand to help her partner up from their back in the mud.

“Prepare to go again,” Titus yelled over the rain from his booth above the training grounds.

Lexa didn’t move to push the water out of her eyes, nor did she hear anything other than the beat of her heart in her ears as she sized up her next opponent. Each fight was a matter of life or death to her. That was how she was going to win the entire thing per her plan, because she very much did not want the alternative.

The horn sounded and she prepared again, though this time, something caught the corner of her eye as she dodged an attack from the larger boy opposite her. And she couldn’t hear her heartbeat a second later. Three seconds later, she was on her back, wheezing out a sigh as she had the wind knocked out of her.

“That seems to be enough for the moment. Break out and prepare for study,” their teacher said, dissatisfied to see his star pupil fail.

Lexa accepted the hand given to her by her partner, and when she came up, she looked around to see what had ruined her perfect record. Not by her choosing, her feet followed the sight of stark yellow hair, peaking occasionally through the stalls in the market. The nghtblood found herself ducking baskets and weaving through legs and arms laden with goods as she followed the only color that appeared in the haze of the dreary day.

And then it was gone.

Lost to the crowd and unknown to her, she felt her heartbeat pick up, tapping excitedly, as if it were trying to beat its way out of her chest completely. But she turned around, ready to return to her lesson, slightly afraid of what Titus might--

She made it two steps of not paying attention to smack into the most wonderful pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen in her whole life.

Nose to nose, the two children stood there. The only movement that was made was by Lexa to put her hands over her chest to keep her stupid heart from jumping out completley. It strained there, drawn to this stranger who furrowed and smiled.

“Hi.”

“H-h-hi,” Lexa managed, somewhat cross-eyed at the proximity.

“Are you training to be commander?”

“Yes.”

“That’s cool.”

Lexa gulped and nodded.

“I have to go. We have a long trip back to Arkadia. It was nice to meet you. I hope you win.”

“Thanks.”

With another second between them, the littler girl pushed past the gawking initiate in search of her parents that called her to them again. Lexa turned on her heel to watch the yellow hair disappear into the crowd again.

XXXXXXXXXX

Over the years, Lexa sees the strange girl with the pretty yellow hair out from time to time. And without fail, she follows her at a distance, looking for a way to speak to her, but never knowing what to say.

There was the time when Lexa caught her during a lesson, and asked to be excused, following her as she looked through the market. And there was the time she was at a ceremony, and the yellow hair wove through the crowded street, and Lexa ran down fifty flights of stairs just to lose her completely. There was the time they went to Arkadia as a unity meeting, and Lexa fell off of her horse when she saw the familiar face who furrowed and looked at her in the mud, offering a hand to help her up.

It never ended well, Lexa realized, and yet her feet kept carrying her forward. And she couldn’t stop her heart from doing flips when she met a stranger.

Freshly fourteen, Lexa was undefeatable in combat with her peers. She was gangly and smart, angry at the world and unable to focus on much of anything. It felt as if it’d always been that way, but she remembered a time of not feeling like she wanted to get hurt in combat.

The sky was angry and hot, the sun burning through the trees as she set out on her hunt. Sweat pooled on her shoulders and back as she prowled through the woods in search of an offering for the festivities.

Halfway through, the sound of hooves in the distance, and the deer she was tracking lifted it’s head and ran off while Lexa looked over her shoulder. Despite herself, she moved toward the noise of the people, following the group undetected. Skycru insignia were on their shoulders, and they moved without the grace of someone who was used to the ground.

Annoyed as she was at having to restart, Lexa waited for the group to pass so she could resume but they slowed as they approached the stream, and as she circled toward the other side of the lake, a familiar stock of blonde hair moved through the green.

“I’m going to take the long way around the lake,” the voice called.

“Be safe. Take a radio, Clarke.”

Clarke. That was the name attached to the voice and the eyes and the hair. The hunting trip was forgotten as Lexa followed along toward the lake and the figure that kept her up at night. She hadn’t meant to, but it felt as if she was being tugged in that direction. She paused when Clarke did, peering out from behind a fallen tree trunk.

When the girl she was following turned around upon hearing a noise, Lexa hid, her heart beating in her ears, waiting a few moments to follow as Clarke made it to the lake where she paused and took off her shoes and then her shirt and Lexa was certain her skin was going to melt off.

Clarke took a few steps out toward the water before she jumped, disappearing for a moment and reappearing a little bit further. This happened a few times until she walked back to the shore and took a seat on a long rock, drying in the sun.

Lexa looked at her shoulders, already pealing from a previous tan. She looked at her hair, a lighter yellow than before. She looked at the skin exposed and glowing, shimmering with the droplets--

The crack of a stick below her feet made Clarke sit up and look toward her. Half out of the treeline, Lexa froze, unsure of how she��d moved so close.

“I didn’t know anyone else was out here.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa offered quickly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You’re the girl, from the horse.”

Her face squinched up as she surveyed the newest arrival to the beach.

“Lexa.”

“What are you doing out here? Isn’t there a festival this week in honor of the commanders who have come before?”

“Hunting. I was hunting, to offer to the spirits,” she managed, watching as Clarke swung her legs over and stood there in just her shorts and a bra. It was hard to think of much else.

“Are you hunting me?”

“No, no, of course not. I didn’t-- I just-- I was moving toward the base of the mountain, there’s a spring there, and I was hoping one of my traps-- No, no. I wasn’t.”

Clarke eyed her suspiciously before moving to slide on her shirt. She had a smile that made Lexa’s heart stop.

“Are you going to be the next Commander?”

“I think so,” Lexa nodded, swallowing with the realization, unable to do much else because her chest was constricting and practically pulling her closer though her feet, graciously, remained steady and rooted at the edge of the forest. “I have to go now.”

Before she could hear a response, Lexa turned on her heel and bolted back the way she came, sprinting as fast as she could away from the lake, away from the girl who now had a name, away from the weird way her heart was lead and then lighter than clouds, and then beating so fast it was silent, and then thumping in her ears so loudly it was deafening. She ran as far and as fast and as long as she could before she stopped, in a very different forest, doubling over, she sat down on a rock on the edge of a clearing and tried to catch her breath.

XXXXXXXXX

Newly inaugurated as the proper Commander, Lexa sat on her thrown and took a deep breath, the power of her new position heavy on her shoulders. Thirteen years, she’d been the person who trained for this, and she’d never imagined it’d actually happen. It was always such an abstract idea, that she wasn’t sure what it all meant, just that she was ready.

“The ambassadors are assembled, Heda,” Titus interrupted her meditation.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding for them to be let in.The wisdom of the commanders coursed through her, and there was much to be done. The celebrations would come soon enough; for now, she was ready to prove her worth all over again to the people she needed to understand it.

The ambassadors of the Twelve Clans filtered into their seats on the council, their handful of attaches quietly huddling behind them. When the last clan entered, Lexa gulped.

She had done her best not to think about Clarke. It wasn’t easy,e specially in the days following the lake, but days grew into months, and when Lexa saw a familiar shade of blonde move around her orbit, she refused to follow. She held her heart in her hand and she squeezed and compressed it until it was the size of an arrowhead. She took that tiny, unrecognizable and achy thing, and she locked it in a metal box. She put that box under a boulder that no man could move.

But now the boulder rattled slightly in her chest as she caught Clarke’s eye across the room and cursed that Skycru would be sitting on her left, the closest of any other clan. Clarke smiled at her and stood behind the chair of her people quietly.

“Thank you for coming,” Lexa began after a few seconds. “I have been left with the monumental task of ensuring this coalition survives and keeping it strong. I count on each of the twelve clans to stand behind me now.”

There was a rattle of approval from the people who already loved her. She nodded and held up her hand for their quiet.

“We will be finally dealing with the question of Skycru. It is my goal to strengthen us, and to do that would mean to bring them in as the thirteenth clan, if they can agree to follow our laws.”

She turned her look onto the ambassador and waited for him to speak.

“We want nothing more than to become productive, helpful neighbors to our fellow man,” Marcus explained. “You honor us with your consideration.”

“Heda, surely you can’t allow--”

“Aren’t you sick of war, Ambassador?” she interrupted. “I am. We’ve lost so much. We’ve lost people and time killing each other.”

Without meaning to, she looked over at Clarke and she felt the boulder crack and the little metal box start to shake.

“I was taught that love is weakness, but in reality, love is what defines all of our choices. It is what starts wars, and pride refuses to let us end them, but I do not want to spend my time as Commander responsible for so much death.”

“We have our ways, Heda.”

“And I mean to honor them. It’s time for us to prosper and build a great world,” Lexa explained, looking at Clarke for a moment too long. The metal box was opened and she felt her chest flutter about as her heart stretched it’s legs.

The chorus of people in her room murmured their approval, or at least their moderate acceptance of her plans.

“We will perform the ceremony after my ascension festivities and Skycru will take the brand of the coalition,” Lexa decided. “For now, Skycru is in Polis under my protection as my guests.”

“But, Heda-- the law states that any not in the coalition are due out by sunset.”

“Skycru is here under my protection,” she repeated herself. “Disregard for my word is treason. We welcome them by showing them what our lives look like. I hope you find yourself comfortable in the city.”

With that and little else, Lexa stood and walked through the hall, out of the door before nearly every one of her ambassadors could stand. It took all of her being to not turn around and see Clarke, but instead, she let the doors close and walked quickly to her room.

XXXXXXXXXX

The city was alive with celebrating the newest ascension. They clamoured and sang and drank and toasted to many years of peace and prosperity, to their new Heda, to the new lives they hoped to lead. Below her room, the torches burned and the party continued, destined to last until the morning, though she chose to bow out as early as respectable.

With a sigh, Lexa looked down at the glowing streets and listened to the laughter and music that was carried up to her on the wind, and she smiled.

At the feast, she saw Clarke and smiled, but did nothing else. She was able to keep her heart under control for at least a few hours, which was a sign. She thanked the spirit of the commanders for helping her grow, and hoped it wouldn’t always been this rough. Surely her heart would tire itself out crushing on a complete stranger.

“No more, Titus,” Lexa sighed, heavy and tired as a knock sounded at her door. “The world will be here in the morn--”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Heda.”

Smiling and standing in her room, Lexa looked frantically at her guard, self-conscious that she was just in her sleeping clothes, her armor discarded for the day. She needed something to protect her from Clarke.

“She came with the word of the Ambassador,” her guard explained.

“No, no, thank you, Jax,” Lexa nodded with a furrow, waiting for him to close the door behind him.

“I didn’t get a chance to say hello at the party.”

“I’m sorry. I had to speak with-- You wanted to say hello?”

“Yeah, I remembered you. So much has happened, but we’ve run into each other before.”

Lexa took a step forward despite herself. She felt like she could see her stuipd heart tugging her toward Clarke. She very much wanted to be in her throne, where she couldn’t move.

“Yes, at the lake,” Lexa nodded.

“It was before that,” Clarke explained. “I don’t know if you remember. We were kids. You had the same warpaint then. I spent weeks playing and putting in on with old oil or grease, or whatever I could find.”

That was it. Lexa felt her heart doing backflips in her chest at the idea of Clarke wearing her warpaint. She wanted to see it. She wanted to touch her cheek and lips. She cleared her throat to get a hold of herself, pressing her hand to her chest and letting it drop a second latter.

“I think I remember,” Lexa nodded.

“You were following me at the lake a few years ago. I remember that. And then you ran away.”

“I had to finish preparing my offerings.”

Clarke eyed her, trying to decipher something and failing. Instead, she took a deep breath and a step forward, making Lexa retreat one step.

“You left your own party.”

“I, um. I was tired.’

“Are you tired now?”

“No. Not at all.”

“I didn’t get a chance to give you my offering.”

“Skycru has already performed the--” Lexa watched Clarke take another step forward and she remained rooted. Her heart was thumping in her neck and she was afraid that her head was going to explode. She felt like her skin was on fire.

“Every time I’ve met you, you look like you have something you want to say but can’t. Will you tell me what you’ve been holding?”

“Nothing.”

It was instantaneous that she uttered the response, prepared to die with all of the things left unsaid. That was easier, and for a moment she let herself consider the merits of war as memory-eraser.

“”I won’t say anything. Just say it quickly and then I can give you a present.”

Clarke got her a present. Lexa was the commander of twelve, soon to be thirteen clans, and she felt her body shiver with the idea that Clarke thought about her.

To her credit she debated what to say before deciding that she was the commander and she could do whatever she wanted. So she set her back and shoulders, squared her feet, and met Clarke’s eyes.

“The first day I saw you, I felt this… I felt like my heart was drawn to you. It pulled me through the market until I met you. And every time after that, when I’d see you somewhere, my whole body feels like it’s on fire. I saw you at the lake, and Id idn’t mean to walk toward you, but again, i couldn’t help it. I don’t know how to make it stop, despite my best efforts.”

“Wow.”

“Yes, I know--”

Clarke smiled and pressed her palm on Lexa’s chest, careful to feel the heartbeat growing in that exact spot. She looked at her hand and smiled, pressing there with a little bit of pressure.

“It feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.”

“It might try,” Lexa confessed sheepishly. The blush crept up her neck to her ears. She wasn’t sure why Clarke brought her hand up and placed it on her own chest, but Lexa looked at her palm as it sat on this girl’s chest. She felt a familiar and loud and fast racket.

It took a few moments for Lexa to compute it all, but eventually she realized what it meant.

“You felt it, too?”

“I don’t know what it means,” Clarke shook her head. Lexa just smiled back a her.

“Yes you do.”

Both stood there, hands feeling each other’s hearts beat wild, steady rhythms against their rib cages. Lexa took the time to meet Clarke’s eyes and she stared so intensely, Clarke looked away, a blush on her cheeks.

“I’m not going to--”

Before Clarke could finish, Lexa leaned forward and kissed her. Pressed her lips to hers and held them there, afraid to move any other part of her body, but her neck craning forward. It too a few seconds, but much to her relief, Clarke kissed her back, hands wrapping around her neck and shoulders, pressing her body against her own.

“Wow,” Lexa sighed and chuckled.

“I agree.”

270 notes · View notes

tae-cup · 4 years

Text

Twin Flame | Of Eternity and Euphoria (1)

Pairing: God!Min Yoongi x Human!Reader sort of soulmate!au?

Summary: The god of the underworld hasn’t been whole for a millennium. Suddenly you came stumbling into his life...literally.

Warnings: N/A Fluffy!

Word Count: 4.9K words

A/N: I like this. Yes. Let me know your thoughts and if you want more of this mini series!

Other:

Series Masterlist

What Is A Twin Flame?

~ Sometimes discussed in terms of a “mirror soul” or “soul connection”, a twin flame is the other half of your soul. It is theorized that a soul can split into two after ascending to a high frequency. Thereafter, the soul lands in two different bodies.

It had been disgustingly simple. You were just minding your business, on your phone scrolling through instagram, when you bumped into someone. This resulted in the ice vanilla latte in your hands finding a home on a stranger’s shirt.

You looked up quickly to apologize, but you stopped mid-way through your sentence to gawk. The man standing before you had jet black hair and skin as pale as the moon. Even his eyes held a certain darkness and yet...to you he was absolutely stunning. You quickly shut your mouth and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Ah! I’m so sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was going.” You dipped your head apologetically. The stranger didn’t say a word. He just tilted his head at you quizzically. “I’ll pay for your dry cleaning!” You exclaimed, feeling the need to fill the awkward gaps. You inwardly cursed at yourself, knowing you didn’t have much money. You continued to ramble, only stopping when he put a hand up. That effectively silenced you. You had a bad habit of rambling on and on when nervous.

“Your name?” He said curtly.

“Y/L/N Y/F/N.” You said immediately.

“Interesting.” He looked around, eyes surveying the cars and streetlights. “The human world has changed quite a bit since I was last here.”

“Human...world?” You weren’t religious or really superstitious. The notion of there being an other world seemed silly to you. So, of course, you suddenly had your reservation when speaking to this mysterious, albeit devastatingly handsome, man.

“Ah, sorry. You’re human, yes?”

“Yeah...?” You found yourself taking a small step back from him, but the smile he gave you was fond and warm. It almost made you relax; almost.

“I’m Min Yoongi.” He held a hand out to you. His fingers were slender and long, delicate, but not fragile. You met his hand with your own, giving it a good shake. Instantly, a warm tingling feeling spread from your hands to your body. It felt like your hand was made to hold his. It was comfortable. He seemed just as confused as you, but instead he cleared his throat and dropped your hand. “I’m very busy, I must be going.”

You nodded quickly, still unsure of what just happened.

“Oh and...don’t worry about the laundry. I’ve got it taken care of.” He said nonchalantly before moving past you. You waited until he was out of sight before sprinting back to your apartment which was only a couple blocks away. Something inside of you had ignited when you met. Now it felt cold. Almost dead. And your apartment seemed even lonelier, if that was possible. What you didn’t know was that, quite literally, below your feet, there was a being sharing your exact feelings.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair.

“Listen, joon, I don’t fucking know how it works either. I’m telling you that something happened when I touched that mortal!” Yoongi paced in front of Namjoon. The god of wisdom was intrigued to see his usually cold friend of the underworld pacing frantically like a high schooler.

“Now now, hyung, don’t get too caught up. After all, you’ve been in the underworld, alone, for a century. You never join us for cards anymore.” Namjoon spoke like a calming parent.

“I don’t like unnecessarily messing with the lives of humans, namjoon.” The older male shot back. “That just means more clean up for me and I don’t enjoy having more work than I need to have.”

“Right right, whatever.” Namjoon dismissed his bitter comment with a wave of his hand. “How can you be sure?”

“That’s why I came to you, dumbass! Aren’t you supposed to know these things?” His words held the tiniest bit of contempt.

“I know a lot of things, Yoongi, I’m just not sure if I’m allowed to tell you all of them. The fates have their own way of things, you know that.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll see for myself.”

“And just how do you plan on doing that?” The god of wisdom clasped his hands together, looking unamused.

“I’ll take her home.”

You ran through the material one last time. Friday was the big final for the year and you had to pass. There was no other option unless you planned on working at McDonalds for the rest of your life. You rubbed the space between your eyebrows, looking for comfort from the oncoming headache. Papers upon papers were sprawled in front of you. Your little apartment was overwhelmed with clutter. Books, stray magazines, and plates littered the living room. Your bedroom wasn’t much better. Let’s just say you weren’t exactly a clean person.

There was a sudden knock at the door. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was that odd man you had met the other day. You didn’t want to open the door, but something drew you in. Lately, that man had been on your mind more and more. You didn’t really know why. There was something about him. It felt like...like he had completed you for a fraction of a second.

“Hello?” You slowly opened your door. You only had a moment to take in the man in front of you, dark suit and pale skin, until the wind blew open your door wider. You nearly shrieked, jumping back quickly.

“Y/N.” His voice drawled, low and almost bored. “You need to come with me.”

He looked at your terrified expression. A man in a dark suit who you’d met once was now standing in the doorway of your apartment...like a fucking weirdo. Who could blame him? He had spent thousands of years alone. Hesitantly, Yoongi stepped through the doorway. You only took another step back. No matter how handsome or how right��this man was, you weren’t going to just let a stranger take you away!

“What do you want? I don’t-I don’t have any money on me right now.” You said, cursing yourself for stuttering. At this, Yoongi softened his expression.

“Sorry, let me try again.” He quietly stepped out of the room and closed the door. Then he knocked.

This absolute fool. You thought, shaking your head and then deciding to humor him. You cautiously opened the door. He stood there, smiling.

“I’m the god of the underworld and I believe you’re my twin flame. So, I’m going to have to have you come with me.”

You blinked once, looked around your apartment, then at him like he’d grown two heads. Of course, this was just another lunatic who thought himself some sort of God. You scoffed, stepping forward to close the door. Panicked, the man quickly stepped inside.

“You’re insane.” You mumbled, but when he grasped your hand, you froze. The sensation was back, but it was sudden this time, spreading throughout your body like a wildfire. Your heart raced like a hundred horses running. His other hand on your arm snapped you out of it. You shook your head, trying to clear your mind which had become increasingly foggy.

“I’m not insane. You can feel it too, can’t you?” He insisted, those his face didn’t give away the same emotion his voice did. His voice screamed panicked teenager, his face said hello, I’m a fucking god. When you slowly nodded, he grinned. You couldn’t help but admire his smile. It put you at ease.

“No, wait.” You stopped yourself from moving toward the door, heels digging in and fighting your instinct. “I barely know you. For all I know, you’re about to sell me into some underground prostitution ring.” Your voice was hurried, not knowing if you should run after trotting horses or stay behind. To take a leap or not? He interrupted your train of thought by pulling you close to his chest. When you were chest to chest, his head bowed down to stare intently into your eys.

“We’ll have all of eternity to learn about each other, love.” His words dripped honey and elegance. Against your better judgement, you found yourself following him. “See? You can’t escape fate.”

You looked at him, still questioning his motives. You didn’t believe in gods, there was surely no way he was telling the truth. But there was also no explanation to the feelings coursing through your veins. It was like your skin ignited under his touch. It was a tingling feeling that you wanted to keep.

“Apologies, this may be a little...weird at first.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he walked you from your apartment all the way to the park across the street.

“A little weird?”

“Getting to the underworld.”

“I’m sorry, come again?” You immediately took a step back. once again broken from your trance.

“Uh...Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about spending eternity with dead people.” You frowned. Yoongi sighed, squeezing your hand tightly.

“You’re not trapped down there forever. We can go to the surface any time you want. I just need to make sure you’re really my twin flame. Once we get through to the underworld, if things go well, our souls will merge as they should be.” He explained calmly, as if this was the most normal thing. You opened your mouth to respond, when a hand reach from the ground and grabbed your ankle.

“Yoongi! What is going on?!” You screeched, only to be met with an inky black.

You opened your eyes, blinking to adjust to the darkness. The room was dark, you assumed from the lights being off, but something about this place just felt...dark. Then everything came rushing back to you. You quickly rushed out of bed, looking outside the window only to see a black abyss.

Panic was the first emotion. Your heart clenched. Was this really the underworld? You checked your pulse, sighing in relief when you felt your pulse still beating. Then you tentatively moved around the room, exploring your surroundings.

This was impossible. Gods are real? You couldn’t believe it, yet here you were.

Yoongi knew you were awake. He knew your whereabouts since you came to the underworld. It had been intense, the feeling of two halves of a soul finally coming together. He felt warm for the first time in years. He was finally complete. He wanted to leave you to your own devices for a while, suspecting that this may be all too much for a mortal.

You were wandering around the castle. There was no one in sight. It was cold and there was something missing from yourself. You felt whole and well, but you were missing something, maybe someone. Yoongi.

Immediately, you started sprinting, bare feet treading softly across the tile floors. Where is that god?! You searched every corner, every room on your way. Then you made a magnificent discovery.

Large doors made of a wood so dark it was almost black and covered with rot iron decor. It was menacing, but having spent an hour or more exploring, you needed answers. You also felt oddly accustom to the drafty halls and the silence. You never had silence like this back home. Your apartment was always noisy with traffic and shouting from the neighbors down the hall. The quiet that so comfortably filled this place was...nice.

“You can go in, you know?” A kind voice said behind you. You jumped, startled, before turning to take in the man. He wore a blue suit and black dress shoes.

“Oh, oh, okay.” You said, your nervousness coming to the forefront again. The man before you was unfairly handsome. He had full lips, unmarred skin, and broad shoulders.

“Ah, mortals, always so nervous. Come on then.” He gently placed a hand on your back and gave you a small push towards the door.

“Mortals? Does that mean you’re also-”

“Yes.” He smiled gently. “I’m Kim Seokjin, god of the sky, but you can call me Jin.”

You mutely mouth oh. That explained the outfit. You carefully opened the door. Inside was a large throne room. Two thrones were at the end of the long hall that was to your left and right. You must have entered through the side door as you spotted a long runner spanning the length of the room in front of you. You glanced from side to side, taking note of the high pillars and floating lights. The thrones sat empty and in the middle of the room was a large table with six men sitting at it like it was nothing. You could hear them chatting happily, laughter rising out of them.

“We’re here!” Seokjin’s voice rang out, echoing in the large room. The chatter didn’t die down as the men turned to look at you two. You wanted to shrink away under their gazes. They’re all so unfairly handsome. As you walked over, falling a few steps behind Jin, you felt like shrinking away. Jin was met with cheers and claps on the back.

“Ah, hyung you’re always late when we meet in the underworld.” A man with pink hair complained.

“Yah! You know it takes me longer to go from the heavens down to the underworld.” Jin protested.

“It’s only a minute from where I live.” A deep voice piped up.

“But Taehyung, you live right above Yoongi.” Jin huffed.

“Who’s this?” A voice said.

All heads turned your way, watching you as you shifted uneasily.

“Hello, I’m Y/N.” You dipped your head. Yoongi resisted the urge to smile. After all, he was supposed to be the cold one in the group. The guys would tease him endlessly if they saw him being soft.

“Y/N. Come here.” Yoongi commanded and you did as you were told, not finding the strength in you to throw back a sassy remark. The invasive stares of the other men bit into you.

“Y/N?” Mused a man that seemed far too bright for the underworld. “So you’re the one Yoongi has been going on about.”

That made both of you flush a bright red.

“R-really?” You looked awkwardly at Yoongi where he just simply put an arm around your waist. He softly tugged you closer.

“I think you guys should introduce yourselves to my lover.” Yoongi declared.

Okay that was a lot to take in. Lover? Who were these men? Obviously they were gods but who was what? You already knew Jin. They chuckled at the confusion that must be evident on your face.

“Are you sure you passed that over with her?” A man in a crisp brown suit raised an eyebrow.

“We’re two of the same soul, of course we’re lovers.” Yoongi scoffed, his grip on your waist tightening. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

You found yourself nodding. “Yes, yes, of course.” You firmly agreed, your heart still racing at the thought of being this close to him.

“Right. Well, I’m Namjoon.” The man in the brown suit, Namjoon, introduced himself. “I’m the god of wisdom and knowledge.”

“Hello, I’m Hoseok, god of the sun.” The bright man from earlier chimed in.

“Jimin,” The pink haired man held a hand out to you. For some reason, your pulse quickened looking at him. He was definitely attractive. “I’m the god of love and passion.”

You shook his hand, ignoring the redness creeping back onto your face. He winked, to which Yoongi took to intertwining his freehand with yours.

“I’m Taehyung.” The deep voiced man leaned back in his chair, studying you. “And I’m the god of the sea.”

You nodded in acknowledgement. Then you quickly blurted out, “I think you saved me when I was eight.”

Taehyung looked quizzically at you. “I may have. I save a lot of people.” He shrugged. There was something about him you didn’t trust.

You remembered that day clearly. You hadn’t heeded your parents’ warning and you had gone out into the ocean way farther than you should have.

Your boogey board floated helplessly in the water. At least it was keeping you afloat. There was a gust of wind and the water started to pick up more, becoming choppier. Salt water drenched your small form as you desperately tried to swim back to shore. You believed in gods back then. You believed maybe just maybe a god would have mercy on you.

But no one came to your aid as you thrashed in the cold water.

“HELP!” You screamed into the wind. You realized you were doomed. There was no one on the beach. There was no beach in sight. There was no lifeguard. There were no gods.

“PLEASE, PLEASE ANYONE?!” You cried, salt water leaving you gagging. When the ocean swallowed you whole, you didn’t even bother struggling. You took a deep breath and let yourself go under. Just as the darkness pulled at you, a hand grasped your arm.

“Now is not your time.” A voice whispered, which seemed impossible since you were in water. Then everything went dark and you were coughing up sea water on the beach surrounded by worried bystanders.

“Are you okay?” A gentle woman’s voice called to you. But you felt too dazed, staring out at the water. Your hand went to the spot where you had felt the touch of someone. Who was it? Who had saved you? You decided it must have been a kind person, because why would the gods have thrown you in that situation in the first place?

When you had explained the story, the other gods gave each other a knowing look.

“Right...I definitely saved you. I think I remember now.” Taehyung smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something dark in his gaze.

Yoongi didn’t move, seemingly frozen. He frowned at Taehyung before turning away, looking at Jungkook introduce himself as the god of war. Then Seokjin said hello once more and the chatter continued.

You dazed off, feeling overwhelmed at what was happening. Maybe you would wake up and realize this was some crazy complicated dream. You looked at each man, memorizing their features. If this was a dream...you wanted to remember them the best you could. Looking around at the seven of them laughing and acting as if they were normal beings, it made you desperately wish this wasn’t a dream. You wanted to see Taehyung smile again. You wanted to see Jungkook’s bunny smile, hear Jin’s laugh, Hoseok’s dance moves, Namjoon’s smart comebacks, and Jimin’s wink. You wanted to feel Yoongi’s arm around you again. Just once more.

You were drowning again. water entered your lungs. You screamed and no one heard. People watched from the beach and they laughed at your pitiful attempts to survive against the strength of the ocean.

“You need to tell her, Taehyung.” An annoyed voice shook your from your far from peaceful sleep. You identified the voice to be Yoongi’s. He was speaking to, probably Taehyung, out in the hallway.

You smiled softly, remembering his tight grip on you last night. The way he whispered sweet words in your ear.

“Why? She’s going to be your downfall, Yoongi, we all knew it. I care about you. I didn’t want you to have to go through that!” Taehyung argued, voice hushed.

“You tried to kill her! I saved her.” Yoongi hissed.

“You would rather fall from grace, like the prophets said, huh?”

“I’m already in the underworld, how much farther can I go?” Yoongi said dryly.

“You’re out of your mind.”

You carefully thought back on that day. The darkness, the hand, the voice. It all screamed Yoongi. And Taehyung had tried...tried to kill you.

“No, You’re out of your fucking mind, Tae. You can’t fuck around with fate!” His voice had risen significantly.

“You’re going to wake her up!”

“As if I didn’t know she’s been awake listening to us this entire time. Isn’t that right, love?” Yoongi opened the door to see you standing there, shaking.

“Taehyung...” You spoke softly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You tried to kill me?”

Taehyung didn’t meet your eyes, looking away uncomfortably.

“It’s funny how scared you are of a mere mortal.” You suddenly sneered, a certain anger possessing your body. “Don’t come near me again. I’ll stay out of your way and you stay out of mine. I’ll try my best not to be the downfall of Yoongi, but it’s like he said...you can’t fuck around with fate.” You had been wanting to curse the gods for ages. Who knew you would have the chance to do it in person? “And if you fucking touch me or even think of it, I will be sure to be the downfall of you.”

Taehyung gawked at you. Here was a mortal, dressed in a white nightgown with slippers, and he felt the need to bow to you. It was so stupid. He was scared of a mortal.

“If you care about Yoongi, you would do well to leave here.” He said, a hint of malice in his voice.

“I’ll make that choice.”

“Very well. Good day.” Taehyung carefully stepped back before breaking into a fast paced walk down the hall.

Two arms wrapped themselves around your middle, pulling you close to a warm body. Who knew the god of the underworld was so comfortable? He rested his chin on your shoulder.

“That was amazing, love.” Yoongi whispered, his breath fanning across your neck and causing goosebumps to raise.

“I may be stuck here-”

“You’re not trapped, we can always visit the surface if you want-”

You held a hand up that stopped him from continuing. You unwrapped yourself from his embrace and took his hands in your own, facing him.

“-but I won’t be pushed around. I have a life and I need to tie things up before I come here permanently.”

“Permanently-?” Yoongi felt his cheeks heat up. The thought of you belonging to him, that he would finally be happy for eternity, made him overjoyed.

“Yes.” You squeezed his hands, the ones that fit so perfectly in yours. Your gaze was unadulterated love. He could get lost in that gaze.

“After you finish...will you tell me more about yourself?” He said, his voice quiet.

“Of course, but I need to tie up the loose ends of my life.”

“As you wish.”

Waking up in your old apartment, sunlight filtering through the curtains you’d had for years, had you wondering if it all was a dream. Was Yoongi even real? You slowly got up from bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Yoongi?” You called out, knowing in your heart that he wasn’t there. He was somewhere in the underworld, just awaiting your return. Your other half. With a sigh, you got dressed and called into work. “Yeah, I’m sorry this is so sudden, but I’d like to quit. No, no, it was nothing anyone did. I just got offered another job across the country.”

“That’s an interesting lie.” A deep voice said behind you. You froze.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, thank you for your time. Yes, I wish you luck as well.” You quickly hung up. Without turning around, you gritted your teeth. “Taehyung, I told you not to come near me again.”

“I’m a god, you can’t stop me.” He chuckled.

“I’ll tell Yoongi.” You murmured, spinning around to face the god of the sea.

He merely laughed.

“I do enjoy you, Y/N. You’re fiery. Perhaps one day we may be friends.”

“And we have forever and ever to decide that, I suppose.” You nodded. “But I don’t plan on it being soon.”

You went to the kitchen, the god trailing behind you. You couldn’t help looking behind you every now and then.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I’m worried for my hyung. I’ve known him since we were new gods.” Taehyung said sheepishly. If you were dumb, you might even mistake it for genuine concern. “Can we start over? I would like to be friends. Especially since we’re going to be around each other a bit.”

You didn’t look up, searching through your drawers for the check book. You found it, taking it out and signing the rent amount on it. Then you looked for an envelope.

“Taehyung, I’d love to, but what changed your mind?” You raised an eyebrow, looking toward him as you sealed the check in an envelope for your landlord.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about right now.” He glanced away, suddenly seeming bashful. You tilted your head at him before turning back to find your mailbox.

“Right.” You decided not to pry. “I guess I need to pack everything up now...” You blanched looking at the clutter. Why hadn’t you bothered to clean up? Taehyung followed your eye line, finally acknowledging the mess. He’s a god and you’re here showing him your messy apartment. Taehyung smiled a boxy smile.

“It’s okay, the mess, I mean. Yoongi hyung is just as messy if not more.” He patted your arm and this time you didn’t shrink back. “You guys are meant for each other.”

“Well, thanks for your blessing.” You rolled your eyes. Despite having been so angry with him earlier, you found that he seemed the easiest to talk to now. You could tell that if you had gotten off to a better start, he and you would have been best friends. However, now you held your reservations and you tried not to get too close to him.

“I’ll help you pack.” He knew that Yoongi could easily snap and have all your things transported, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Oh? Okay.” You shrugged. Then you took out the moving boxes stored in your closet from where you moved in a few months ago, and got to work.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at all the boxes currently in the throne room. A long line of souls had begun piling up and he needed to get to work, but he wanted an explanation first.

“Taehyung and I decided to pack up the apartment, I didn’t want to trouble you too much.” You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“Taehyung?” Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Taehyung is dangerous, jagi.”

“I know, I know. But he showed up at my apartment-”

That made his eyebrows shoot up.

“-And we sort of worked through our problems and now I think it’s okay.” Your smile caught him off guard. He couldn’t help smiling back, it was infectious.

“If that’s what you say, I trust you.” He snapped his fingers and the boxes disappeared. “I’ve moved them to our private quarters. The maids can unpack them.”

“Maids? I’ve never seen any around.” You pondered.

“Oh they’re around. I just instructed them to stay out of your way.” Yoongi pointed to the throne next to his. “Come join me.”

You hesitantly walked forward. “Really?”

“Really.”

As you made your way down the long hall, he continued speaking.

“You remind me of my mother. She has the same grace and elegance. You hold yourself in a similar manner. I find it charming.”

“Tell me about yourself.” You lifted your chin, trying to pry information out of him instead of the other way around.

“Impatient, are we? Well, I’m the god of the underworld. I make sure souls that deserve it pass on safely and souls that don’t deserve it, suffer.” He said casually. “I do enjoy music.”

“What kind?” You had a certain look in your eyes, one that made him want to lose control and kiss you on the spot. You seemed so genuinely interested in him, quite unlike any goddess who had tried to seduce him.

“Any. I play piano.”

“Oh?”

“I have eternity. I might as well learn something new.” He chuckled, then held his hand out to you. “And you can spend it with me, all you need to do is take my hand.”

You walked forward, not hesitating to take his hand. With that, he pulled you in and pressed his lips with yours. Your mouth felt like it was made to be on his. His lips were perfect for yours, like a missing puzzle piece. Warmth spread through your body and you glowed an ethereal light. It was a light that was too bright for this dark underworld. When you broke away, you were still glowing ever so slightly.

“Now you can stay with me forever.” He smiled.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that.” You whispered, pressing your forehead to his. He placed his hands on the back of your neck, closing his eyes and breathing in your scent.

“Would you like that, Y/N? Will you spend eternity with me?”

You looked him in the eye, moving apart slightly to look at him better.

“Yes. I’ll spend eternity with you, Yoongi.”

The missing piece in your life. The hand that saved your life. The man that held your heart in his hands. You loved this man.

“I love you, Y/N.” He breathed.

“I love you too.” Then you hugged him, throwing your arms around his waist. And he held you tight. You were made for him. He couldn’t imagine letting you go, not for an eternity.

#bts #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #twin flame #of eternity and euphoria #God!Yoongi #fluff #tatawrites #i didn't proof read this. whoops

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hoodoo12 · 3 years

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Costume

This month’s prompt on our discord server? “Costume”, for Hallowe’en, of course! SFW, Beetlejuice/gender neutral reader.

@beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul @janitor-boy @turtlepated @angelicspaceprince

Enjoy! `

You’d never have expected being invited to a Halloween costume party would be such a problem.

A problem shaped like a pestering, jealous ghost-demon named Beetlejuice. “I wanna go! Why can’t I go! You’re leaving me for a whole evening to have fun and I have to sit here and twiddle my thumbs?! You’re going to leave me in the dark in an empty house and I never get to do anything!” His whining was amazing, and not in the good way. “You could take me! We can do a couple’s costume! Like Mickey and Minnie Mouse, or you can be a brick, and I can go as a brick layer!”

You couldn’t help but snort in laughter at his suggestions, as raunchy as the second one had been. “Or, or--you know those horse costumes? We could do that! I could be the back half, because I like holding onto your butt--” “And also because you’re an ass?”

The specter grinned broadly at your jab, thinking that if you were joining in on the idea, his battle was mostly won. “Beej, sweetheart,” you said, patting his cheek, “the answer is no. No one’ll be able to see you, so a couple’s costume just isn’t going to work. I’m sorry.” His expressive face fell. You were pretty sure that if he could control not just the color of his hair but how much it stuck up, it would have drooped in a dramatic, cartoonish way as well.

“Fine,” he muttered sadly. “I mean, people could see me if you just, I don’t know, said my name a few times or whatever, but it’s okay, I’ll just stay here with the dust and spiders and wait in the dark for you to come back . . .” He turned to go, shoulders sloping dejectedly, and shook off your hand when you tried to take his wrist to attempt to make him feel better.

⁂

You actually had no idea what to dress as. Everything was too cutesy or overdone or trite. When watching those Bly Manor and Truth Seekers shows on streaming, however, something clicked into place. You could go as a plague doctor! And not only that, since Beetlejuice bragged about living through the Black Plague, he’d have firsthand knowledge of it and them and could assist making it authentic!

Excitedly, you told him your idea. Although he was still a bit crestfallen, he of course preened a little when you asked for his help and promised to give you all the details he could to make it the best plague doctor around. He went so far as to bring you an authentic beaked mask from . . . somewhere, which he proudly tried to thrust into your hands. Gingerly you accepted it, but tried to keep only the very tips of your fingers in contact with the leather. The clear glass for its eyes made it look more than slightly creepy.

“I’m not going to . . . catch anything from this, right? You didn’t get it out of a festering plague pit . . . ?” “Nah,” he replied dismissively. “I mean, yeah, it’s from a grave, but it’s super old so anything infectious should be gone, I’m pretty sure.”

One thing he’d never claimed to be was a doctor or infectious disease expert, so although you accepted his suspect contribution, you cleaned it inside and out with bleach. And tossed it in the microwave to nuke any possibly remaining microbes, for good measure.

You procured a black coat and hat on your own. Beetlejuice also dug up a black cane--telling you that the doctors used them to poke at people so they could examine them without getting too close--with a silver wolf’s head as a handle. You joked that that was a prop for the Wolfman but accepted it anyway. He also gleefully shoved so many aromatics into the beak it made your eyes water when you finally tried it on. “Thanks, Beej,” you praised as you tried to breathe through your mouth. “Wow. There’s a lot in here, huh? What is that, pine needles?” “Juniper, cloves, and camphor! Some mint too.”

“Uh-huh,” you croaked. You were going to have to grab some tissues to wipe your running nose and watery eyes during this party. “Okay, I’ll see you later.” “Have a good time!” he called after you, and you were glad he’d gotten over his disappointment.

⁂

You knew the people who’d invited you to the party tended to go all out for Halloween, and this year was no exception. It wasn’t Martha Stewart, but it wasn’t professional haunted attraction either. They’d filled their house with lots of skeletons and spiders, pictures that changed based on which angle you looked at them, a soundtrack that low enough to not impede conversations but was filled with creaks, moans, and shrieks, and a buffet spread filled with treats made to look gory.

Everyone was in costume, of course, from those same generic ones available at Halloween stores to homemade cosplay of movie slashers. A hush rippled out like a stone thrown into water when you walked through the front door, even as you called hello to your friends. The party-goers turned to gawk at you.

Gradually people returned to their conversations, and some people returned greetings. You grinned behind your mask; it was good to make an unexpected first impression.

Wandering through the party, you slowly became aware that few people sought you out, and when you tried to engage with others, they were polite but seemed anxious to get away. More than once you caught people glancing over their shoulders at you as they left you. It also became apparent that people gave you a berth as you walked through the house, even at the table spread with food and drink. At first it was kind of cool, like you were this mysterious being, but then it devolved into being a little weird. It had to be because of the aromatics Beetlejuice had stuffed to the brim inside the beak. “I’m sorry about the smell,” you apologized to anyone who would listen. “I just went a little overboard on it being authentic.”

You followed that apology with a little self-depreciating chuckle.

It didn’t make people seem more comfortable around you.

Unable to mingle, feeling like a bit of an outcast--maybe like a real plague doctor--you didn’t stay at the party long. Walking home along streetlight lit sidewalks, you had the same effect on anyone else out: veering to give you room, furtive glances back at you once they were passed.

There was no way you stunk that bad.

Sighing, you slowed down a little. Although there was a chill in the air, you were getting this hat and mask off your face. Maybe you could dump the herbs and whatnot in a garbage can, and reduce the stench. Your nose could use some fresh air anyway.

You happened to stop in front of a closed store’s window. As you grabbed your hat to yank it off your head, you glanced at your reflection and yelped in surprise.

It was you in a plague doctor’s costume, but nightmarishly extreme. Your coat--just a cheap plain coat you found at a thrift store, was smeared along the sleeves and hem with something that looked tacky and black, like old blood. Like your coat had been dragging along the floor of a slaughterhouse, and like you’d been wrist deep in something gory. The rest of the fabric looked moldy and stained and threadbare on the elbows. As if that wasn’t bad enough, your mask--

It was authentic, obviously, but the leather seemed to have molded smoothly to your face. The glass in the eyeholes didn’t show your eyes at all; instead, pinpricks of light, the reflection of an animal’s eyes, shone out.

Everything that looked back at you in the glass looked evil, depraved, and unsettling. The effect was overtly chilling, even as you knew you were looking at yourself.

You ran the rest of the way to your place. “Beetlejuice!” you shouted, throwing open the door so had it bounced back at you from the wall it hit. He sauntered in from the kitchen. “Heya babes! How’d the party go? I was just here, making rice krispie treats--the kitchen’s a bit of a war zone right now--is marshmallow difficult to get off the ceiling?”

“What did you do?!”

“I told you--I was making rice krispie treats--” “I mean what did you do to my costume!”

The specter stopped, and grinned. “Did you like it? Did everyone like it? I think the pièce de résistance was that faint whiff of rot. You really have to concentrate to smell it, but once you do, you can’t unsmell it--”

You gaped at that disgusting revelation and resisted the urge to grab him by the sharp labels of his striped coat and shake him; he’d see that as playtime. Through gritted teeth, you repeated, “What did you do to my costume?!”

“I made it authentic. Just like you asked,” he shrugged innocently.

Squeezing your eyes closed, you counted to ten, actually making it only to four. Your jaw hurt from clenching it so hard, but you didn’t loosen it much to say sarcastically, “And the way my eyes look? Is that authentic? Did plague doctors have creepy shiny eyes?”

He laughed. “Oh. That. Yeah, that was some artistic license. Just to give it some flair.”

A worn coat splattered with unnameable gore, the stench of random herbs plus decay, a mask that was already unsettling and silver eyes for some “flair” . . . this time you did make it to a count of ten, and released the tension in your jaw this time. He was only trying to help. He had provided the expertise you asked for, and he just took it too far because he was nothing if not over the top.

“We should’ve just done the horse costume,” Beetlejuice advised. “Want a rice krispie?”

You glared at him, but couldn’t stay too mad too long. Shrugging out of the coat, you said, “Yes. Take this costume out and bury it or burn it or something. You tricked, and I’ll have a treat.”

“That’s my babe,” he grinned, and took the disgusting outfit off your hands.

fin!

#writing #fanfiction #beetlejuice #Halloween

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scullysexual · 3 years

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A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Reposted. Anniversary]

Jewel is one year old! In order to celebrate what is probably my greatest achievement in fic I’ve decided to re-release all the chapters. Not much has changed in terms of story but I’ve gone through and edited/fixed any typos and weird sentences that have popped up now and then. Me and my blog have both grown so much since writing this that I’m sure there’s many of you who have yet to have read or seen this before. So here you have it…my lil baby.

- - -

Chapter One

A cloud of heavy smoke rises from the four vapers, covering the clear sky above and littering it with stuffy grey puffs. People scramble about up and down the dock, trying to keep family members together as they rush to get through the gates. Others stand there gawking at the ship. For those not boarding it’s simply a day out; The greatest ship ever built, they call it and those who live nearby wasn’t about to miss out on such a historic day as this.

Mulder stares at it, surprised at just how wonderstruck he is with it. He never put much stock in the rumours when it was being built believing that she was just going to turn out as all those before her had. That the rumours were just that.

But he was wrong. Never in his life had he seen a ship as large as the one that towers over him.

He turns to Phoebe, reaching out for her hand as she climbs out of the cab.

“What do you think, dear?” Mulder asks as he helps his fiancé down. “Are you impressed?”

To no one’s surprise, Phoebe only scoffs at the ship, its presence not changing her mood in the slightest.

“It’s not as grand as the Mauretania.”

Bill Mulder chuckles behind them, handing their luggage to his man-servant, Krycek as the boy passes them onto a baggage handler.

“It’s much bigger than the Mauretania,” he says, ready to quote every fact he had memorised from the London Herald about the ship. “And much more luxurious,” he adds.

Phoebe only huffs, clearly becoming uninterested in their current conversation.

“Careful Fox,” his father warns him. “Hard one to please, that one.” Mulder only manages an uncomfortable laugh already well aware at the difficulties that come attached to Phoebe Green.

With time running out, they begin to make their way towards the ship, weaving their way through the crowds, Phoebe turning her nose up at every person not dressed to the nines, going as far as to dramatically balk and cover her nose as a lower-class foreigner runs across their path.

“Filthy immigrant,” Phoebe scorns at the innocent man. Mulder tries not to let his disgust show at Phoebe’s words, they’re excused after all and Mulder rolls his eyes at the clear disrespect his people show towards those less fortunate.

“He’s just trying to get to the ship, Phoebe.”

“Yes, well, maybe he should hurry to a bath instead.”

Mulder ignores her words, instead guiding her through the swarming crowds.

“Honestly Bill,” Mulder’s mother pipes up. “We couldn’t have gotten here earlier rather than scurrying around the docks like rats?”

“I was all packed and ready to go,” Bill says and indicates to the pair in front of him. “It was those two who weren’t.”

Mulder sighs. If anything, it was Phoebe who they had been waiting for.

“We did try to hurry, Mother. Phoebe couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Phoebe scoffs once more. “It’s not my fault that you told me to change.”

“I just thought you would get too warm wearing black all day.”

“I’m in mourning Fox,” Phoebe cries. “The weather doesn’t change that.”

Mulder resists sighing again. Phoebe had been mourning for weeks now. The loss of their baby had brought on this spontaneous trip. Phoebe, done with London and “wanting to get away from all the bad memories” all but demanded that they leave for America as soon as possible. A chance for a new start, she told him afterwards. They could get married here and start again. Next thing Mulder knew, he was packing his bag and going back to a country he hadn’t seen since childhood.

He felt trapped somehow, and it had nothing to do with the swarms of crowds. This was inside him. A cage or a hole he’d put himself in. One he wasn’t going to get out of any time soon.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She’s been sitting on this bench for what feels like hours now. The stuffy bar overcrowded with sight-seers only now they’ve done the sight-seeing and want to do some drink-beering.

She was told ten minutes. Ten minutes and they’d be looking for a ferry to take them back to Ireland. Dana was done with the place. Southampton was the same as everywhere else in England they’d been- the same people, the same scorning looks they’d get no matter where they go, the same rejections. It’s only a number of times a person can hear ‘no’ before they never want to hear the word again.

Her brother, however, had other ideas. They only came into the bar to ask if there were any ferries available to take them home and somehow Charlie had managed to be roped into a game of poker by a bunch of Norwegians who barely spoke any English between them.

The game had currently been going on for a lot longer than the ‘few minutes’ she was promised.

Dana sighs, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She’d order a drink if Charlie wasn’t currently gambling away their last penny.

“You lonely, luv?” Dana turns towards the speaker. His cockney accent thickened by the slurring of his words. “Ye want sum comp’ny?”

He stumbles towards her, catching himself on the rickety table and smiles at his clumsiness. Dana attempts to shuffle further back into the bench, failing.

“I’m fine,” she says turning away and hoping the man would take the hint.

But he presses on.

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye. I’m sure.” She gets up before the man can say anything else, and heads over to Charlie’s table.

The boy is in full concentration mode. Lip caught between his teeth, eyes scanning his cards and the card laying down on the table. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Countless of times Dana has watched him play, never learning from the mistakes he’s made in previous games. This gambling addiction he’s seemed to have developed has cost them a lot in the finance department, a cost that Dana is not too happy about.

She taps him on the shoulder.

“Charlie, I want to go.”

“Hold on a second…”

His tongue replacing his lip, Charlie gives one nervous glance around at his fellow players.

“Charlie, we need to go.” She tries not to sound like she’s whining, he’s her younger brother for God’s sake, a child, she shouldn’t have to whine.

Charlie ignores her, a smile breaking out across his face.

“I’m sorry, lads.” He places his cards on the table, his smile turning cocky as he reaches over to take his earnings. Dana doesn’t miss the two pieces of paper lying on top of the money.

A large hand grasps Charlie’s. His grin falls as he stares in fear at the man.

“He cheat!” The man yells. With his hand still firmly wrapped around Charlie’s arm, he yanks him forward across the table, his other hand a fist that falls down and smashes straight into his face.

“Charlie!” Dana screams as his body falls slump against the oak. The man backs off as the bar grows quiet, ignoring the winnings that fall onto the floor.

With all concern for her brother, Dana rushes to his side, her hand falling on the boy’s face, wiping away the blood that drips down from his wound. You feckin’ idiot…she thinks.

Charlie’s eyes open slowly, despite the pain with smile it back.

“I won, Dana,” he tells her. “We’re going to America.”

Dana frowns, bewildered for the moment at what Charlie could possibly be talking about until her eyes fall to the two pieces of paper that lay on the ground. Realisation sets in and she reaches down to pick them up, turning them over to read.

The words White Star Line stare back at her. She looks from the paper in her hand to the ship outside and back to Charlie.

“You’re…you’re not serious?” she asks, full astonishment.

“Yep. Fecker put his ticket down as payment,” Charlie all but shouts.

Dana stares back at the ticket. She was really about to go to America and board the Titanic to get there.

“You’re gonna wanna be quick,” a fella beside them tells them. He points to his clock on the wall. “Boat leaves in ten minutes.”

At that, Charlie hauls himself off the table as the two siblings begin pushing what money remains on the table into their only bag, not caring for the coins that had fallen onto the floor.

“Hurry up!” Charlie urges her as Dana ties up the bag. “Come on, come on.” He takes the bag throwing it over his shoulder and grabs his sister’s hand, all but dragging her out of the bar.

They weave their way through the people, Charlie up front and Dana falling slightly behind. She fists her skirt in her palms, pulling it up so as not to trip over it, keeping her eye on Charlie ahead of her and praying she doesn’t lose him.

They almost collide with everything; people, a cart selling vegetables, a horse and carriage until finally they make it, out of breath and clutching at their tickets.

“Right, give me your tickets,” the crewman orders, his fingers making a grabby motion. They hand them over and the man all but snatches it out of their hands. His nose turns up when he reads the names.

“Leif and Ingrid Brevik?” he asks, sceptically.

Dana looks nervously at Charlie, worried that they had just ran all this way, got excited for a new future, just to be turned away at the doors once more.

“Aye, we’re Americans.” Charlie tells him doing nothing to mask his thick Irish accent.

The crewman gives once last glance at the ticket and them. Sighing and probably done dealing with steerage who’s English is minimal he accepts the tickets.

“Get in before I change my mind.”

Relieved, the pair rush in just as the crewman shuts the door.

They make their way down the crowded corridor. People stand looking at the various signs that point in directions of rooms, bathrooms, and general communal areas. They argue, an overload of different words muddled together to make one distorted language.

Dana isn’t paying attention, however. Her eyes switch from the number written down on the ticket to the numbers written on the doors either side of them. Charlie had gotten distracted, eyeing up every pretty lass that they walked past and Dana had ripped the paper out of his hands. If he wasn’t going to find their room, she will.

She finds it eventually. 23, near the end of the corridor. Charlie eyes up Room 24.

“Reckon a lass lives in there?” he asks.

Dana focuses on unlocking the door, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“I hope it’s a fat old man with a foot infection.” She looks up only to see the look of disgust appear across her brother’s face.

The door opens to their room. A single bunkbed, a desk and chair with a lamp set upon it, and a chest of drawers are the only furniture that occupy the room.

Charlie shares her sentiments exactly.

“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry.” He throws the bag onto the chair and proceeds to climb to the top bunk.

She stops him before he can claim it.

“Piss off, I get top bunk.” She grips the back of his shirt, yanking him off the ladder.

“Careful!” Charlie cries. “I’m already injured.”

“So move out the way before I injured you even more.”

He does as he’s told, not without pulling a face beforehand, and throws himself on the bottom bunk.

Dana lies down, thankful to be in a bed that actually feels like a bed and not a brick.

“Hey, Dee?” Charlie calls after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Are you worried?”

Dana thinks for a second, curious as to what Charlie thinks she should be worried about.

“About what?” she asks.

Silence passes and she waits for an answer.

“Nothing,” the boys says. “It’s nothing. We got nothing to be worried about.”

Frowning and profoundly confused, Dana decides to leave it.

Another bout of silence passes and perhaps Charlie’s fallen asleep, at least she thinks that until she hears his voice again.

“Hey, Dee?”

“What?”

��Do you still have that first-aid kit in the bag? My face is throbbing.”

#a jewel beneath the moonlight #chapter 1 #updated #anniversary repost #i write

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the-a-word-2214 · 4 years

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

The Singer

Anthony Ramos x OC

Warnings: Some swearing, drinking

A/N: Thank you so much to @charming-charlie for collborating with me on this! All credit goes to her on this chapter.

Summary: Anthony and Scarlett get to know each other, in what one would consider a first date. Who knew it would end in embarrassment?

2,147 words

Chapter 2: The First Date

New York City was bustling with people, especially at night. The tourists were gone, sleeping in their hotel rooms, leaving the regular city dwellers to finally come out and enjoy their hometown. Scarlett saw instantly how Anthony was able to blend in. Despite being on one of the biggest productions on Broadway, no on was flocking to him, grabbing at him, desperate for some attention. He seemed to know how to avoid detection, which allowed Scarlett to think that he snuck away like this before.

The walk was quiet, with a few pleasantries between the singers. She wanted to ask him some questions, get to know him, but she didn’t want to dominate the conversation, or say something that could be taken in a different way. She just met the man and she didn’t want to say the wrong thing. However, she kept telling herself that if she didn’t say something, he might take it as she wasn’t interested.

The restaurant was nestled in between a music store and a bagel shop. Scarlett almost missed it and she probably would have if Anthony didn’t steer her in the right direction. Their shoulders crashed against one another as he nodded toward the Italian bistro and Scarlett followed his line of sight. The restaurant had tall dark windows, a café area outside that was surrounded by white lights, and a revolving door that led to the inside. One thing Scarlett saw about this place that stood out: it was small. Like, impractically small. There’s no way the two of them would find a table, let alone be seated comfortably.

Yet Anthony’s smile was as bright as ever.

The pair walked in and the hostess smiled in greeting. “Hey Anthony. Usual table?” she asked politely as she turned to start fishing out menus from the box behind her. Anthony shook his head. “Nah, I don’t have my whole crew with me tonight. Table for two instead.” The hostess nodded approvingly, removing two black menus from the box, and motioning Anthony to follow her.

Scarlett was right. The place was jam packed, lively and jovial. It reminded her of her club on a Saturday night. Loud and boisterous, but still classy and respectful. She was so in trance with all the people, mostly because it only seemed to add to her anxiety, that she was completely caught off guard when she reached a staircase. “You coming?” she heard Anthony above her.

Looking up, she saw the Broadway star was halfway up the stairs, his body turned to look at her with confusion. “Don’t tell me you have a fear of stairs,” Anthony said, although his tone was meant to be taken in jest. Scarlett shook her head as she followed him up the flight of steps.

The second floor of the restaurant was much quieter and had less people. The blonde caught on quickly. They were in the VIP area of the restaurant, and Anthony frequented this place enough to have a table to himself. It was surprising, and Scarlett had to admit, she may even felt a little bit jealous at the connection that Anthony had. He didn’t seem to flaunt the fact that he was this ginormous Broadway star.

The couple took a seat at a small table in the back and Scarlett could feel her exhaling a sigh of relief that they were not in center view. She was shy, especially in big crowds. This was a good setting for her. The menus were placed in front of them, along with a complimentary basket of breadsticks. Scarlett did not feel hungry. Her nerves were getting to her.

“Can I start you off with any drinks?” a waiter appeared suddenly, as if on cue. Then again, Scarlett shouldn’t be surprised. It was the VIP area after all. “A bottle of Chardonnay sound good?” Anthony asked Scarlett, who merely nodded at the suggestion. “A’ight, we will start with that.” The waiter left after being dismissed to fetch the wine, leaving Anthony and Scarlett alone for a few minutes.

Say something, Scarlett told herself. She practically had a celebrity, a Broadway idol, in front of her and she couldn’t get her mouth to work. He sang, acted, and danced every night. Maybe he has a few pointers for a singer like herself. That’s what they have in common so far. Talk about that, she told herself. It was at this point she was started to mentally curse her nervous and shy personality.

“How long have you been singing?” Anthony asked. He took a breadstick from the basket and began munching on it. Scarlett looked at him with a sort of crinkled face. It was like she was studying him, like she had a test about him the next day. Anthony didn’t waver; he must be used to people gawking at him like that. “A while. I was a waitress at the bar until my boss caught me singing a tune in the back while washing out the glasses. Since then, I was promoted to the spotlight,” Scarlett answered as calmly as she could. Her hands were pressed tightly in her lap and she knew they would start trembling if she let them go.

The waiter came back, popped the cork on the bottle, and filled two wine glasses with the white liquid before leaving the bottle in an ice bucket on the table. Once he left, Scarlett found her hand wrapped tightly around the glass and bringing it to her lips, where she took a small sip, followed by a larger sip before setting the glass down. From that point on, she started to loosen up. She could feel it. Good, this was good. Maybe now she could relax and enjoy Anthony’s company without worrying about her shy demeanor.

The pair talked about anything and everything after that. Anthony told her about the jokes and hijinks that went on backstage at Hamilton, including the time he hid the king’s crown from Jonathan Groff. Poor Jonathan was forced to go onstage in a cheap and flimsy king’s hat from a costume store. Scarlett told Anthony about the time she took up horseback riding, only to end up with a broken arm in the process. When she revealed that the horse’s name was Bad Luck, Anthony broke out into a fit of giggles at how poetically karmic the name was.

At that point, the bottle of Chardonnay was totally empty, including half of the breadstick basket. Anthony had already paid for their next-to-nothing meal and pocketing his credit card when Scarlett was coming back to reality. Something didn’t feel right. Anthony noticed immediately and looked at her with concern. “You okay?” he asked and the blonde nodded. The Broadway star seemed unconvinced. “Where do you live?” he questioned with a cocked eyebrow. “Down the road. Like two blocks that way,” Scarlett ended up answering. She tried to point in one direction, but her arm was twirling in the air, pointing everywhere. She lowered her arm, confused as to why her appendages were not obeying the commands from her brain. “Near the bakery,” Scarlett mentioned. She loved waking up to the smell of freshly baked bread and cookies. Her apartment complex was right next door.

Anthony nodded. He knew the place well enough. Once or twice, the cast and crew received treats from the bakery. “C’mon, let’s get you home.” He stood up easily, like he didn’t have a drink at all. Scarlett, however, seemed to stumble just to get on her feet. Anthony approached her, grabbing her by the arm and carefully guiding her. It practically hit Scarlett as the two were making their way across the room to the stairs, that maybe Anthony only drank his own glass of wine. That meant… shit, Scarlett! You drank the whole damn bottle!

There were no words to describe what she felt. Anger at herself for being so stupid and careless was at the top of the list. Now Anthony was seeing her in a drunken stupor, and the pair only just met tonight. This was not looking good.

Scarlett had to grip the railing, with Anthony holding tightly around her waist, as she practically hobbled down the stairs. She could walk but not in a straight line. More than once, Anthony had to pick her up and help her down the flight of stairs, like she was a child. The embarrassment that seeped inside her was also not helping. Once outside, she was hoping the fresh air would do her some good, yet all she really wanted to do was run up and down the street with her arms spread wide. Thank god Anthony continued to keep a tight grip on her.

Normally, he would call for a cab, but since Scarlett lived so close, and he wanted to see that she got home safely, he stayed by her side. “How much did I drink?” Scarlett asked, her words were slurring a bit. Anthony almost thought she asked something else, something with a bit of gibberish in it, but he was able to pick out the phrase. “A lot,” he said with a laugh. Scarlett felt herself turn red from embarrassment. Or maybe it was the alcohol. Either way, it did nothing to help with her mental state.

The apartment complex was a bit rundown. It was a newer building but from the looks of things, it gave the impression that the construction company rushed to get it ready. The roof was in need of cleaning, the paint was chipping off, and it gave off this feeling that rent was cheaper than normal, especially in a city like New York. “What floor?” Anthony asked. Scarlett was clinging to him now. Her arm was wrapped around his shoulders and she just raised one finger in the air.

It took a while to figure out exactly which apartment was hers. She would giggle when he asked and even tried to keep the key away from him in some weird game of keep-away. Once inside, Anthony was surprised to find it sort of normal. Despite Scarlett having too much to drink, which he felt was fine considering everything, he enjoyed talking to her and getting to know her tonight. In his experience, that often came with hidden secrets from girls he would be interested in. A messy home, a kid he didn’t know the girl had, money problems, so on and so forth. Scarlett continued to surprise him.

He set her down on the couch and went into the kitchen. When he came back, he had a glass of water in his hand and was offering it to the blonde. “Here, this’ll help,” he said gently. He sat next to her and Scarlett took the water, along with a few sips of the helpful drink. It did do wonders. She knew the reason she was hit so hard from the bottle of wine was because she drank on an empty stomach. That was on her and she wouldn’t blame Anthony if he didn’t want to see her again. With that thought, she felt like maybe she should tell him how she was feeling, especially when she had liquid courage working its way through her system.

“Thanks for bringing me home,” she said while setting the glass of water down on the coffee table in front of her. She turned to look at the Broadway star with a smile. Anthony was about to say something but Scarlett kept talking. “You’re really cute,” she said while leaning into him, “Like, really, really cute.” That was not how she wanted to start the conversation but oh well, it’s out in the open now.

“I kinda like you,” Scarlett continued. She caught Anthony off guard, she could tell by the look on his face, yet her drunken stupor apparently didn’t care. “I think you are funny, good-looking, and that smile, dude,” she replied. Anthony was beaming at the compliments, but he remained composed. He was determined to keep his hands to himself. One bad news story and the tickets for his show would flop, plus he might be out of a job. That was partly why he didn’t drink it up at parties and such. He had to retain this public image.

He was about to say something, but Scarlett never got to find out what that was. In a moment, an instant, she ended up kissing him. His lips were right there, and she couldn’t help it. She was leaning toward him, unaware of what exactly she was doing. It just felt right, in that moment. However, Scarlett wished she could remember what happened next because, once her eyes closed and she gave herself over to her drunk side completely, she passed out. As if the night couldn’t get any worse or embarrassing, she was laying right on Anthony’s lap.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

#anthony ramos x oc #anthony ramos x reader #anthony ramos #john laurens x oc #john laurens #philip hamilton #new writer

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bisexualsforprompto · 4 years

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Teen Titans AU Part 12

This chapter is longer since I’ve taken longer to update! Today we’ll meet a certain redeemed blonde Bee miraculous holder. Maybe she’ll have a love interest 😉.

Gabriel Agreste had been working with Slade for a while. He knew who the traitor of the Titans was and he knew all the information given. He also knew that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was Ladybug, it was too risky to tell his son though. They needed Ladybug removed and if he knew his so-called ‘princess’ was Ladybug he might refuse to fight her or hesitate. In the end, Gabriel always knew what was best for his son and his grand plan. He chuckled to himself as he walked the streets of Jump City, until he finally made it to his destination. He was in need of a certain Italian girl’s assistance.

“Ah!!!! Guys they’re online! They’re online!” Jon screamed at the top of his lungs. “Coming!!!” Garfield yelled as he shoved a pancake into his mouth. The team assembled in the common room as Jon hit the accepted the video call. There on the screen was a smiling Marinette with hair in twin braids and a scowling Damian who seemed to be...holding Marinette’s hand?! Raven gave a sly smile as Gar grumbled and discretely passed her twenty dollars. “So when did that happen?” Raven asked in a monotone with a hint of a smirk on her face. Marinette blushed, “I-I guess technically yesterday.” Damian glared at Raven, but he had a nagging feeling once again, guilt. It was awful, he felt...bad for Jon, especially after telling him he didn’t want to date Marinette. He felt almost like he had lied to Marinette, what if she wanted to be with Jon but thought that he didn’t like her so Damian was her only option?! “Oh.” Jon coughed. “Anyway,” Marinette said oblivious to the situation, “We wanted to catch up with everyone. Maybe individually if that’s alright with you guys?” The team took the bait, “Of course! I need some Mari time!” Gar exclaimed doing some jazz hands, “And Damian time too of course.” Marinette giggled but then realized, Gar could be the mole. She sighed and knew when she found out who the traitor was, it would hurt like hell. Jamie shoved the computer away from the rest of the team. “Me first, I have something I want to run through you guys.” Marinette nodded kindly and Damian’s face held the same amount of brooding on it as before. Before the others could protest Jamie took the computer to his room.

“Sorry, this is really important and I think you’ll want to know.” He took a deep breath, “So I asked my scarab if searching for miraculouses could be done since you mentioned you’re missing some. You won’t believe where it found a bunch.” Damian raised an eyebrow, “Spit it out Reyes.” Jamie rolled his eyes, “Ok ok. A storage unit in slightly south of here. An hour out from Gotham and an hour out from Jump City. The scarab said that both the horse miraculous and butterfly are active. I didn’t know if that meant anything to you.” Marinette nodded though she was internally freaking out, she really hoped Gabriel hadn’t gotten out of prison. “Thanks Jamie. I’ll have to get them as soon as possible. This is extremely important. In the wrong hands the miracle box is the most dangerous weapon ever. Although if only two miraculouses are active that means Hawkmoth has only one other co-conspirator, I’m guessing Slade.” Marinette’s mind went at 100 miles a minute, she’d need to find the box as soon as possible.

Jamie nodded and smiled, he went back to the room to give the computer to someone else. Damian muted it, “You know we were supposed to stick to the plan.” Marinette nodded and squeezed her boyfriend’s hand, “I know Dami but it can’t be him if his scarab can track miraculouses. Chat Noir would already have mine.” Damian scowled and unmuted the computer.

Everyone else passed by easily, Damian and Marinette gave each of them a different location where they were ‘hiding’ the Ladybug miraculous. The plan was off without a hitch, all they had to do was wait, well wait and Damian had to talk to Jon. Marinette had gone downstairs to clear her head, she still couldn’t believe someone who she’d been living with betrayed her and the team. Jon got on the computer, he didn’t look too mad so Damian was slightly relieved. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Jon depanned. “I-I it just happened. I’m sorry, I really wanted to tell you.” Jon nodded and then sighed, “It’ll take awhile but I’ll get over Marinette. If anybody I’m glad she’s dating you. Besides,” he said cracking a smile, “I won the bet.” Damian stared at him confused. Jon laughed, “We’ve had this bet ever since I got to the tower. Betting on if you’d ever date anybody. Most people said no, but Raven and I said yes and we both are twenty bucks richer.” Damian scowled, “You bet on me?!” Jon cracked up and nodded. “Anyway, why did you talk to everybody individually. It was super weird.” Damian crossed his arms, “The Titans have a mole.”

Jon’s eyes widened, “W-what?! Since when? Who?! Are you sure?!” Damian rolled his eyes, “I don’t know when or who but I am sure. That’s what we’ve been trying to find out. Don’t make me regret telling you and don’t tip off the rest of the team!” Jon nodded still in a stupor. Marinette hopped back upstairs and into the room, she sat down next to her boyfriend and waved, “Hey Jon!” Jon smiled, “Hey Marinette, how's it going?” “Pretty good. Sorry I’ll have to cut this short, I realized it’s almost time for lunch. What do you want Damian?” Damian shook his head, “You know Alfred can go out for that.” Marinette shrugged, “I need to stretch my legs.” Damian nodded, he was slightly concerned, but he knew she needed this because she had been so stressed since the mole debacle. “I don’t want you running off alone in Gotham. I’m coming with you.” Marinette giggled, “Okay, I’d be fine if you didn’t come though.” Damian patted her on the shoulder, “I know Angel, but you can’t help me being paranoid.” Jon smiled, he had to admit they were a cute couple, “I’ll let you guys go then. Bye!” Marinette waved and Jon hung up. “Ready?” Marinette asked standing up. “Sure. Where’d you want to go?” Marinette tapped her chin, “Since you’re coming maybe we could go somewhere, you know for our first real date.” Damian blushed, “Any places in mind?” “Well you know the area better than me, but how about Gotham Diner? It’s near the fashion district.” Damian chuckled, “Sounds perfect Angel.”

Marinette grabbed her bags, they ended up going into stores before they ate and of course Marinette bought new fabrics. Damian insisted on paying but Marinette refused, he pouted and said he’d pay for lunch. Marinette giggled and agreed. As Marinette walked down the street, sunshine radiating off of her, Damian followed smiling a little to himself. Gothamites gawked as they saw the Ice Prince with his girlfriend, they were surprised he could smile, that he had a girlfriend and that he was back in Gotham. Some people snuck pictures. As Marinette walked, with Damian in tow a blonde girl with her hair cut in a short bob squealed and ran up to her. Damian was shocked and they Marinette and the blonde started talking excitedly in France, he almost didn’t catch it.

“Dupain-Cheng!” Squealed the blonde. “Chlo?” Marientte turned to see her ex-bully turned best friend. She thrust her into a hug and squeezed her. “Look Dupain-Cheng Im glad to see you too, but I do like breathing,” Chloe strained. Marinette released her, “Sorry it’s just that I haven’t seen you in so long. Wait, what are you doing in Gotham?” Chloé narrowed her eyes, “Could ask you the same question DC and who’s this?” She asked motioning to Damian. “That’s Damian,” Marinette exclaimed, “my boyfriend.” Although Marinette turned pink and rushed her statement a little Chloé screamed, “FIRST YOU’RE IN GOTHAM WITHOUT TELLING ME AND NOW YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND! THAT’S IT WE’RE CATCHING UP NOW!” Chloé grabbed Marinette by the arm and stormed off. Damian stood there in a stupor, his girlfriend was just sister-snatched before his eyes. Chloé whipped her head back, “You coming or not?!” Damian didn’t say anything, he knew from his family that you do not mess with strong willed women like Chloé, he followed obediently like a dog.

Chloé led them to a small café where she sat down at the closet empty table. She sat down and wasted no time, “Why are you in Gotham Dupain-Cheng?!” Marinette giggled, she’d always enjoyed Chloé’s...directness. “Damian took me here to meet his family?” Chloé narrowed her eyes, “You!” She pointed at Damian, “How long have you been dating Maribug?” Damian’s eyes widened, “What’d you call her?” Chloé hissed in Marinette’s face, “He doesn’t know?” Marinette sighed, “He does, and we’ve been dating since yesterday but we’ve known each other for months. Anyway, Damian this is Chloé otherwise known as Queen Bee, and Chloé this is Damian, he does have a name.” Chloé rolled her eyes, “Whatever. You do realize it’s stupid to go with some random guy to a different city right?!” Marinette nodded, “Damian’s not-“ “Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Stop going off with random dudes Maribug! And don’t tell them you’re identity!” Chloé flicked her in the head. “Um Chloé, I distinctly remember you telling everyone you’re Queen Bee.” Chloé rolled her eyes once again, “That’s different Dupain-Cheng, you know I can’t hide this fabulosity.” Chloé flipped her hair as Marientte giggled, “But you still shouldn’t tell random people that you’re Ladybug!” Damian decided to step in, “I’m not a random person.” “Excuse me?!” Chloé said, turning shooting daggers with her eyes. “I said I’m not a random person.” Damian repeated plainly. Marinette shrank down in her seat as Damian and Chloé continued their intense staring contest. “He’s a keeper Maribug.” Damian shook Chloé’s outstretched hand. “Chloé Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’s mayor and fashion designer Audrey Bourgeois.” Damian nodded, “Damian...Wayne.” Chloé sprung up from her chair, “You bagged a Wayne?! Yes Maribug, way to use what I taught you! He’s definitely a keeper!” Marinette started cracking up until Chloé saw a shadowy figure in the distance. “Don’t look now but I think a certain alley cat followed us. Why is he here anyway?!” Chloé scowled. “I recently joined a team, ever since then he’s been getting intel from one of them about my whereabouts.” Marinette sighed. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! RIDICULOUS, UTTERLY RIDICULOUS! GET ME MY MIRACULOUS I’M GOING TO KILL THIS TEAMMATE AND THIS STUPID CAT!” Damian cracked a smile, finally something he could agree on. “Chloé, no killing. But I might be able to get your miraculous back. Once we deal with a certain black cat we can find the miracle box, Damian pull up the location Jamie said the box was.” Damian obliged and pulled up a map. “Got it, but what will we do about that idiot?” Damian asked while motioning to Chat. Chloé smirked deviously. “I’ve got a couple ideas.”

Taglist (you already know how this goes):

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@2sunchild2

@northernbluetongue

@violatiger8

@mochinek0

@beaversuenightly

@poshplumcot

@queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm

@heaven428

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry

@indecisive-mess-named-me

@captainmac6

@mandy984

@emjrabbitwolf

@synnesstra

@mjisntme

@i-have-no-cool-username-to-use

@shamefullove

@yokizu

#damian wayne #batfam #marinette dupen chang #damianette #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #chloé bourgeois #maribat #teen titans au miraculous

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