#she paired me with a guy ive never spoken to much and i was like oh i need an appropriate Reaction so iii

[viovio]

i swear i had some weird fucking childhood crushes but i can't remember em

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode IV

Seed of Life

This is @zestys-stuff 's OC. All credits to this character goes to this beautiful, talented artist. Thank you again for allowing me to explore and create with him!

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, angst, early pregnancy smut (will be forewarned before it happens), daddy daughter drama, Ralak being little rough because reader won’t stop teasing him, Ralak literally has blue balls, ball play, blowjob, brief thigh fucking, likely incorrect na’vi, teacher/student dynamics/roleplay, p in v, quickie, squirting, masturbation, dirty talk, sexual tension, age gap 

Disclaimer: This chapter entails pregnancy and sexual intimacy during early pregnancy. I include a warning directly before the smut happens in the case that you want to indulge in this chapter but aren’t necessarily up for the pregnancy smut. 

Word Count: 10k sorry

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: thank you guys for always being so patient with me. i love yall too the moon and back <3 happy holidays and a happy new year! also, I’ve realised that I unintentionally decided that Kiri is not involved in this series (i dunno honestly, it’s just occuring to me that I’ve never really mentioned her before and it feels difficult to incorporate her at this point i suppose). It seems like we (reader) have taken her place in this au in regards to being jakes adopted ‘babygirl’ (nothing else though—no superpowers or anything loool).  

Synopsis: After telling Ralak that he's going to be a father, the reality dawns on you that you need to break the news to your own father.

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This pregnancy shouldn’t be much of a surprise to you, honestly. How could you not be? After such a breeding it would be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant. Yet the news wasn’t quite sinking in, even when Tsireya looked at you with wide eyes and spelled it out for you. But now that you’re walking towards the tsahìk, you’re faced with reality and it begins to sink in as you count each step you take. 

Forty-two…  

The words that rolled off the tarsem’s tongue echo in your skull.  

Forty-three…  

Etching themselves into the bone, leaving you with no space to deny the truth. 

Forty-four… 

“You are with child.” 

The ringing in your ears stops as your vision refocuses on the stone cold expression of the Tsahìk. Her voice is unfaltering and clear as it delivers the news to your ears a second time. Bowing to the taller woman, you sweep three fingers away from your forehead and turn your heel to walk away. But before you can take two steps she announces something that makes your ears stand tall.  

“A boy.”  

Her two harshly spoken words strike through your chest, a sinking feeling now brewing in the pit of your stomach. You stop dead in your tracks and lift your head that was once tilted down to your feet. Things become even more real, having you force down a wad of your spit to keep your vision from splitting again. You’re barely able to use your voice—your mouth partially open and your tongue rolling from the churn of your tummy.  

“Thank you, Ronal.” You manage to squeak a decibel or two over a whisper, dropping your head again to lock your stare to your feet before fleeing the now-crowding scene. You overhear the people murmuring the news as you scurry away to your marui pod.  

‘The forest girl expects the firstborn of the village’s best warrior’;  

‘She won’t make it out alive!’; 

‘Did you hear? She will birth the first of a new kind. A kind with demon blood’.  

If your legs could go any quicker, they would.  

A child grows in your womb now. A child for the man you love—Ralak. The man who deserves it most. You’re scared and excited all at once. Proud to bear a son for such a notable and fearsome man. But afraid of how your family will take to the news.  

This was your first month of being a mated pair, and you’ve already succumbed to your most primordial instinct to mate. And with what everyone is already whispering, you’re scared of much more than that. Is what they say true? Is this a risky thing? Will he be teased for being different? Will he be rejected from the clan?  

Does Ralak… even want this?  

You both hadn’t even sat down and spoken about the possible consequences of such a cosmic event—your synced cycles. What if he hadn’t meant all the things he said? Or if he really just couldn’t prevent the things that he did during his rut? How would he react if that were the case?  

Your mind is running at a hundred clicks an hour and your nerves are wringing your stomach that it takes the hot sand spilling through the cracks of your toes to make you realise that you’re already home.  

And there he is, in all his glory.  

Doing nothing other than sharpening his damn spear. Sitting on his knees, leaned back with his flexed abs and gathered brows, concentrating on his task—blissfully unaware of the gossip spreading throughout the clan. The sight brings serenity to the white noise in your head, leaving nothing but the crash of the waves and the splash of the ilus off in the distance. I  

Ralak’s ears twitch as he senses your presence, but he remains focused on the stroke of his whetstone against the blade. He can feel your apprehension from where he sits, and he can already tell what you’re here for. Yet he chooses to keep his appearance no less than stoic, but not enough to be intimidating.  

“Tanhì.” He hums low enough that you strain to hear him.  

“I need to speak with you.” You utter, wetting your dry lips with a quick swipe of your tongue. You stand there fidgeting with your fingers as you await a reply from your husband. It’s almost mortifying how silent this man can actually be. You see the slight tilt of his head and his ear perk up to listen closely. Taking this as your cue to speak, you try to find the words to say.  

How do I say this?  

Ralak is a simple man, perhaps it’s better to give it to him straight. An easy, ‘I carry your unborn son’, would do, right? You begin to gnaw on the dry skin on your bottom lip as you think. But his silence is really getting to you today. How can he sit there so… unbothered? Not even a glance thrown your way or an eyelash batted. Maybe you should just spit it out — ‘you got me pregnant’.  

“Hm?” He lets out a muffled grunt, swiping the whetstone against the spearhead. It sounds innocent. Like he’s just immersed in a task and couldn’t quite bring himself to completely stop. 

“We no longer need to prepare for my heat.” You blurt out, not even knowing where the words came from. You witness his spine straighten and him quickly stilling his movements.  

Little did you know his heart gallops at the speed of a direhorse, thumping wildly between his ribs as he prepares himself to finally hear you utter the words. Oh, how he had been waiting for your sweet voice to sing the news. But he realises that you seem to need an extra push to say them.  

“And why is that?” Ralak husks, still unmoving.  

You wait for him to turn around. To look your way. Something.  

But… nothing.  

“I’m pregnant.” 

Ralaks heart skips a beat and his breath catches in his throat. A grin spreads from ear to ear, so strong and wide that if you were really paying attention you would have caught the way his ears stand at full height.  

But you were too busy fighting the bubble of the blood in your thumping heart, trying to keep your frustration to a minimum. You had expected more. For him to turn around, at the very least. All you could hear was the da-dump and the silence between you two. Until you couldn’t take it anymore. 

Perhaps it’s all the hushed chatter from earlier or maybe it’s just the new surge of hormones and out-of-whack pheromones but you can’t help the burn of your eyes as they fill with tears.  

“So w-what? Not even a glance my way? You knock me up and have nothing to s-say for it?”  You choke back your heated tears of frustration, Ralak now huffing a vehement sigh. “You’re not even surprised, or—” Your blubbering is cut short by your husband's quick movement.  

Ralak instantaneously brings himself to his feet and storms over to you, towering over your petite frame. Now he’s peering down at you, dark, smouldering eyes holding the most intimidating gaze with you as he closes the distance between your bodies. He’s still damp from seeing to the ilus this morning that when your chest touches his cold, bare stomach, it hardens your nipples into stiff peaks.   

“Surprised?” He rasps, his large hand flying to your lower stomach, gently pressing into it. Heaving shoulders slowing as he steadies his breathing, Ralak lowers his head to brush his lips against the shell of your ear— 

“Do you not think I had every intention of putting this baby inside of you?” 

Hearing this spoken in such an assertive tone sends shivers up your spine—Ralak knows exactly how to handle you and your… sensitivity. He always has. Your tail sways uncontrollably behind you, earning a well concealed smirk from the giant before you. It’s always been one of his favourite parts of you, but now—oh, now he has a new favourite part of you.  

Your soon-to-be swelling belly.  

“I have known.” He admits through a whisper, smoothing his entire palm over your budding womb, planting a quick kiss on your temple. “Your scent… it has changed, tanhì.”  

“What?” You whisper, almost pulling away from his tender touches to look at him. “And you didn’t say anything?”  

“I wanted to hear you say it. I have been waiting… to hear you say it.” He’s the one to pull away this time, looking you deeply in the eyes. His free hand raises, using his thumb to wipe away a tear seeping from the corner of your eye. “Please. Do not cry.”  

You don’t even know what to say. Yet again, Ralak leaves you speechless—with trembling lips and a swelling throat.  

“And you are actually eating the payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] I cook.”  

“What?” You snort, letting loose a sudden, nasally giggle. You drop your smile and try to fix a serious expression on your face. “What do you mean? I always eat your payoang niktsyey [fish wraps]”  

Ralak laughs, his three fingers tucking hair behind your ear, “I see you throw them to the ilus, tanhì. I am no fool.”  

You laugh again, snotty-nosed and teary-eyed, sniffling when the uncontrollable giggling fit ends. “It seems that our son enjoys your cooking, ‘lak.” You bubbler with a wobbly smile, blinking harshly to clear your vision.  

Ralaks eyes bulge as they frantically search yours—a beaming smile spreading across his lips, his pointed teeth on full display. “Son?” He exhales softly, his left brow bone jumping ever so slightly.  

All you can do is nod, letting your wobbly smile morph into a grin. The tears come back like they never left, twice as much and even hotter than before. You swear you see Ralaks eyes gloss over too, glistering in the sunlight.  

Ralak sinks to his knees, coming face to face with your soft tummy. 

“My prrnen [baby]. My ‘evengan [son; boy child]. It is your sempu [daddy].” He whispers, heated lips slightly pressed against your silken skin. Chin tucked to your chest, you watch in awe, straining to listen to his hushed whispers. “I have wanted you for so long.”  

Hearing that—oh, how hearing that makes you feel. You feel warm inside, your heart so full all your earlier fears melt away. Ralak looks up at you, azure blue eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration—gratitude and admiration.  

“My sweet tanhì. You have made me the man I have always wanted to be.” He croons at you, planting a long, soft kiss on your stomach—eyes still locked with yours. “And I thank you for that. Nìt’iluke [forever; never-endingly]”  

And just like that, the butterflies you felt when you first laid eyes on this man come rushing in, flapping their wings at full force.  

“I am your mate.” You sputter out a little, tiny sob. “It’s what I-I am supposed to do.”  

Ralak stands up, holding eye contact with you the entire way.  

“You owe me nothing. It is an honour that you carry my unborn, y/n.” His hand leaves your stomach to grasp your hand, intertwining his thickset fingers with yours. “You will be a nawm [great] mother.” 

“And you will be the best father.” You choke back your sobs, struggling to get your words out. A comfortable silence passes, where you both immerse yourselves into one another’s touch. Until Ralak witnesses your expression morph into something of worry.  

“What is it?” He asks in a hushed voice, keeping his tone calm and cool.  

“Speaking of… fathers.” The column of your throat undulates when you gulp hard, “How will I tell mine?” 

Ralak swallows, too. The thought had crossed his mind a few times over the past week. He saw the answer as simple – tell him. Ralak holds a lot of respect for your father, looking up at him as a superior given his status and skill as a warrior. And although he’s slightly intimidated by your father, Ralak sees this respect as mutual—therefore, it should be returned. Surely, this will go smoothly if you both remain polite.  

Right?  

“We tell him. Together.” Ralak grasps your hand once more, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, his heavy accent shining through now that he’s high on emotions, “I keep you safe. Both of you.”   

—— 

Both you and Ralak make your way down the shore towards the webbing of overlapping mangrove roots. Though you insisted on breaking the news to your family by yourself, he was adamant that he accompanies you. You couldn’t bear the thought of your father lashing out on Ralak, especially in front of the others. You tried to explain that to him, but he simply shook his head and tightened the clasp of his saya (knife sheath) on his hip.   

You make the trek by foot, wanting a little more time to think about what you were going to say, and he ensured to stay right behind you. Quite literally—looming behind you like some sort of bodyguard. Every na’vi you pass are quick to avert their gaze elsewhere when they see the giant you have as a shadow. They tried not to look to begin with, but it was a rare sight to see you two so close together among the clan.  

Their hushed whispers are kept to an absolute minimum but Ralak hears them nonetheless. It doesn’t bother him. Not anymore, at least. It used to bother him before he had met you—hearing the chatter of the gossip about his voluntary six year celibacy despite being the chief’s right hand man. And now that the murmurs entail nothing but his relationship with you, he could care less.  

But then he hears the indistinct mumble about the babe budding in your womb. It’s something along the lines of ‘it being some demon hybrid’. The comment alone has Ralak screeching to a halt, his head snapping in the direction of a stocky, young warrior in training. One that Tonowari had relentlessly urged Ralak to teach until he begrudgingly gave him a couple combat lessons.  

Ralak’s eyes narrow and sharpen, snapping down to shoot a threatening leer down at him. That's all it took for the stumpy na’vi to drop his head in shame and scurry away with his younger companions.  

Sensing that Ralak is no longer on your tail, you turn around, half-expecting him to be five steps behind. Instead, he’s right where you left him, with a reassuring smile and an extended hand gesturing you to ‘continue’. You return a light hearted smile and spin around, taking another step towards your family marui.  

—— 

“To what do we owe the visit?” Neteyam smiles as he greets you at the marui door, arms splayed out for a hug. You smile and slump into your brother, allowing him to envelope you in a warm embrace. “We haven’t seen you in what feels like weeks, sis.”  

“Because we haven’t.” Lo’ak adds, lurking behind his bigger brother, arms crossed over his chest with a grin on his face.  

“Hey Lo’.” You say in a low voice, smiling at him as you let go of your big brother. Ralak silently stands at the marui door, head awkwardly tilted in an attempt to fit himself in such a tight space. 

“Hey, sissy.” Lo’ak throws an arm around your neck, patting your shoulder a few times as he walks you further inside and away from Ralak. “What’s up with the shadow?” He doesn’t even try to quieten his voice as he nudges his chin in your husband's direction.  

You force a little laugh, unwrapping his arm from around your neck so you can inch away back to your ‘shadow’. You back up until you bump into his solid build, making a muffled thump when you collide. He steadies you by the shoulders, lidded eyes flicking down to check that you’re okay. He can sense your nervousness. 

“I–we… have something to tell you guys.” You begin, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Where’s everyone else?”  

Lo’ak’s eyes squint, brows furrowing as the gears in his brain grind twice as fast to figure out what you could possibly be calling a family meeting for. “No fucking way. Already?” He blurts out when he finally puts two and two together. Your eyes widen when they dart over to him, catching sight of the shit eating grin plastered to his face.   

Fuck, is this skxawng going to spoil it for me? You think to yourself, apparently loud enough for Ralak to hear. He squeezes your shoulders before sliding his hands down the full length of your arms and letting go. “Mawey [calm].” He breathes, his head still hanging low. You look behind you, tilting your head up to meet his comforting gaze.  

“Hey, babygirl.” Jake’s voice snaps your attention back down, having you look your father in the eye. His smile is as wide as his arms as he approaches you for a hug.  

“Dad. Hey.” You whisper, returning the hug and snuggling into his chest. You bask in the moment, lingering onto how things are now—before you drop the bomb on him.  

“I missed ya.” Jake chuckles, rubbing your back. He finally lifts his head and sees your ‘shadow’ hovering a little closer than needed. “Jeez, let her breathe, boy. She’s just huggin’ her old man.” Ralak keeps his head hung and takes a small but noticeable step back. Jake gives you a quick peck on the head as he begins to pull away. “What have ya’ been up—”  

Jake cuts himself short, leaning back in to smell your hair. His eyebrows gather when he recognizes the familiar scent. Neytiri has smelled similarly a few times before. Jake grinds his teeth, scrunched brows and narrow eyes giving away his current state of mind. His hands slide down your arms, gripping then as he looks you dead in the eye. “Y/n. You got somethin’ to tell me?” 

“Dad–” You swallow down the knot in your throat, already getting choked up.  

Jake's lips purse into a thin line as his death-stare immediately averts to Ralak. And for what feels like an eternity, nothing but silence fills the room. The tension in the air is almost suffocating. Jakes eyeing Ralak down whilst Ralaks stare is locked on the way he’s holding you.  

You glance over at your brothers. One’s obviously got it figured out, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smug look on his face. And one is completely clueless—poor thing. You look back at your father who is now seething, leer averted back to you as he exerts all his energy into being patient.  

“What’s going on? Guys?” Neteyam breaks the silence with a worried tone to his voice. His eyes bounce from person to person, until they land on his brother.  

“He knocked her up.” Lo’aks whispers harshly, not even trying to be discreet. Neteyams brows raise and now he is, too, staring at you. You feel all the blood drain from your face and suddenly you’re extremely light in the head.   

Mortified is an understatement.  

Everyone is clearly waiting for you to confirm it. But you’re having such a difficult time saying the two silly little words. The pressure is on now, you could even see Ralak straining to hold his tongue. You finally muster up a cowardly nod, and immediately your fathers grip intensifies, squeezing your arms firm and tight. He’s looking down at you with eyes of disbelief and somewhat disappointment, frantically searching yours to see if this is really the truth. You let loose a low hiss, wincing when you feel the pinch of his grip.  

Not even another second passes when you hear the slap of your husband’s large hands grabbing ahold of your father’s wrists.  

“She is pregnant.”  

A deep, but low growl rips from Ralaks chest. In other words, ‘never lay your hands on a pregnant woman’. Ralak dwarfs Jake as he inches in a little closer, grasping his wrists just firm enough to send this message.  

“Yeah. Got it, bud.” Jake returns a growl through his teeth and tightened lips. He shifts his position slightly, eyes flicking down to acknowledge what his son in law is trying to get across. Nonetheless, Jake stands his ground. “Get your hands off me.”  

Ralak tries to regain his composure, but his protective instincts have just about gone haywire. The urge to protect has never been so intense before. It’s like his soul knows that there’s just more to protect.  

More at stake. 

Ralak looks down at your fathers hands once more, silently making his point clear. He holds eye contact with Toruk makto whilst he remains unmoving.  

“Lak…” You squeak a warning to your husband, who only flutters his jaw as a response. Lo’ak and Neteyam are on edge, both concerned that their father has a grip on you, but even more so that Ralak has a grip on their father. They watch intently, trying to decipher if and when they need to intervene.  

To everyone’s surprise, Jake exhales harshly through his nose and gently pulls away from you, but wrenches his wrists away from Ralak’s grasp. “Sorry, kid.” Jake spits an apology, readjusting his position to be directly in front of Ralak. “Care to explain how this happened so damn quick?” 

“Dad!” You shout in disbelief, wedging yourself back in between the two.  

“You know what? Don’t even answer that.” Jake snaps.   

“You know you are really no one to talk! Where’s mom? Mom!” You go on the tips of your toes, leaning from side to side to look for her behind both the two male na’vi.  

“‘xcuse me?” Jake purposely blocks your view by bobbing his head wherever yours goes. “I am still your father and you will not speak to me that—” Jake steps to the left to avoid Ralak and walk towards you. Ralak quickly adjusts himself to be the wall between you and your father, not allowing Jake the chance to even finish his sentence. Ralak is now looking down at Jake with a stoic expression, trying his best not to come off intimidating or challenging in any way.  

All to no avail.  

“You got a problem with me, boy?” Jake grumbles through his clenched jaw, getting in Ralaks face now.  

“No. Only keeping my word, sir.” Ralak simply responds.  

Jakes brought back to the very moment he made Ralak give him his word. His word that he’d never let a thing happen to his baby girl. The night you completed your iknimaya. The night he granted Ralak the permission to mate with you.  

The night Ralak took your virginity. 

Jake stalls for a few seconds, taken aback by Ralaks behaviour but a little impressed at the same time. Jake's expression softens upon realizing that Ralak is just protecting his mate—just as he does Neytiri, especially during her pregnancies.  

But there’s no way in hell that Jake will be the first one to back down here.  

“Mom!” You call for her once more, hoping that she’ll swoop in and save the day.  

Neytiri rushes in, hand on her hip where she keeps her dagger sheathed—worry and concern etched into her features. She analyses the situation, taking in the scene of her own mate standing face to face with yours. She glances over at you, seeing the panic in your eyes and the hand on your stomach that you didn’t even know you had placed there. Slowly walking up to the two male na’vi, she places a firm hand on her mates chest, pushing him away from Ralak. “Ma’ Jake. What is happening here?”  

Jake’s pressing his lips firmly together, not wanting to say the words. He shakes his head a little, huffing through his nostrils before placing a hand on his hip. His other hand extends in your direction, as if he were pointing out the obvious. Yet he remains choked up and speechless, his hand falling to his thigh as he gives up.  

Finally, he mumbles, “Go on. Tell her.”  

Neytiri looks back at you, eyes trailing back down to your hand that’s mindlessly resting on your stomach as she awaits for your answer. You feel the burn of her eyes, yanking away your hand when it becomes too much. Being the daughter of Mo’at, a tsahik, Neytiri needed nothing more than a quick glance and sniff to know what’s going on. “Is this true?”  

“Yes, mom. It is true. I am.” You say in a defeated tone of voice. Ralak shifts himself, settling close beside you now rather than in front of you. He always had an even greater respect for your mother.  

Neytiri’s expression only grows softer, until there's no trace of concern left in her face. Her smile is downturned but her eyes are bright, glistening with joy as she pulls you in for a warm embrace.  

“It is a blessing from Eywa, my child.”  

She pulls away from you, now looking over to Ralak. Neytiri lays a gentle hand on Ralaks upper bicep, “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations] .” Ralak signs ‘I see you’ to his mother in law, exchanging a light hearted smile with her.  

It was no secret that Neytiri longed to be a grandmother. Her days of children are over now, although she was expecting her eldest, Neteyam, to give her a grandchild first. But Ralak — Ralak is a remarkable, mighty warrior and hunter. The olo’eyktans right hand man, and undoubtedly the best fisherman in the village.  

In fact, Ralak was one of the first people Neytiri took a liking to after she adjusted to the way of water. She always felt that he was a good suitor for her daughter.  

“Are you kiddin’ me? It’s barely been two months!” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.  

“And a day for us, Jake.” Neytiri tries her best to keep a calm, but firm voice. “They are a mated pair, they are having a family now. It is Eywa’s will.”  

Jake quiets himself, reflecting on his harsh ways. He sighs, loudly. His eyes finally glance down to what everyone in the room has been looking at, now staring at your protective hand that mindlessly lay over your womb once again. He grits his teeth, averting his stare to the ground, eyeing the charred wood of the fire pit. His tongue clicks as he parts his lips, muttering— 

“I know… I know, alright? She’s just—” He looks up at Neytiri, then Ralak, and then you. “She’s my babygirl.”  

It’s his way of saying, ‘I just want to protect my family.’ 

“Dad. I am but—but I’m not your baby anymore. I’m not a kid.” You croak, finding it hard to hold eye contact with him. “Your grandson is the new baby of this family.”  

Jake tries to fight the way his eyebrows scrunch together, it was like hearing about the news of his firstborn son all over again. He exhales slowly, nodding his head and extending his arms to hold you. His warmth envelopes you completely, leaving no room for any cold or harsh thoughts and feelings to linger.  

“You keep ‘em safe.” Jake's chin presses into the crown of your head as he mutters the words to Ralak. Ralak had always had a hard time understanding Jake's native slang, but this he understood— loud and clear.  

“Always.” Ralak answers firmly.  

Your safety has been, is and will always be his number one priority.  

Jake nods once, squeezing you a little tighter before letting go fully. “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations], you two.” 

“Thank you, dad.” You smile whilst Ralak bows his head. Neteyam and Lo’ak finally come over for their hugs, making a comment of their own as they release you from their grasps.  

“I’m gonna teach him everything I know.” Lo’aks grin is unnerving and a little sinister, giving away the trouble that he’s already trying to get your son into.  

“Please don’t.” You joke back with your brother, even though you’re being dead serious.  

Neteyam jabs an elbow into his brother's rib cage, disciplining him for his mischief. “Agh — do not worry, Uncle TeTe will keep him in check.”  

“Well, that’s a relief.” You say softly with a smile on your face, “‘Uncle TeTe’. I like that.”  

“Hey, don’t forget about ‘Uncle Lo’Lo’.” Lo’ak chimes in.  

“Eh. Doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know? What do you think, lak?” You jester, looking up at him to be met with a slight smirk.  

“Very… hiyìk [strange; funny].” Ralaks smirk pulls at his lips a little more. “But, at least it is not ‘ak’-ak’.”  

You swear you hear a little chuckle from everyone in the room. All except Lo’ak, who is staring at Ralak with a deadpan expression, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It feels like an eternity passes until Lo’ak finally booms with laughter, extending his arm out to Ralak, who gaily reciprocates and meets Lo’aks’ with a smack.  

“I like this bodyguard of yours, y/n. He actually has a sense of humour.”  

You let loose a scoff and roll your eyes, about ready to wrap this whole thing up and lie down in bed. It’s seemingly obvious, seeing that everyone is giving you space as they take note of your restless body language and bowed shoulders.  

“If you are tired, you should rest.” Neytiri advises, just as you feel Ralaks hand tuck under your arm to support your weight. “Your body is working hard right now.” 

“Yeah, mom. I think I need to lie down for a little.” You mumble, leaning into your mate a little more.  

Your family practically ushers you out, encouraging you to get some rest and to get off your feet. Ralak walks close to you on the way home, keeping with the pace you set to the tee — only intervening with a hand to your hip when necessary.  

And when you finally slump into bed, your eyelids flutter shut before Ralak can settle himself beside you.  

——smut warning—— 

You rouse to Ralak drawing the curtain of your marui, blocking out the orange hue of the last eclipse. It dawns on you that you’ve slept out most of the day. You didn’t even realise you were so tired to begin with.  

“You should have woken me earlier. I slept out the day.” You mumble, sitting up in bed and lightly kicking off the sheets.  

Ralak turns around, surprised that you’re awake. He curses himself under his breath; he was hoping to keep you sleeping by drawing the curtains but instead he did the opposite.  

“You needed to rest.” He says, making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You have been more tired recently.”  

“Yeah?” You snort, “…and what else have I been, sir know-it-all?” 

Ralak chuckles, his eyes falling to your stomach. “…a little more hungry.”  

You smile a little, remembering his fish wrap comment from earlier.  

But then you witness his half-lidded eyes glaze over with something of… wanton. It takes a second to realise that they’re no longer staring at your belly. They’re staring at your tewng [loincloth]. More specifically, the mound imprinting it.  

It’s the way your pussy is being so tightly squeezed by the thin cloth covering it. It’s the one thing that Ralak can’t help himself from indulging in admiring. Then his eyes snap away,  unexpectedly meeting yours. The stare he’s giving you has your thighs rubbing together and your lower tummy tingling.  

“…a little more tempting.” His voice is thick like honey, laced with lust and arousal.  

In every way. From the way you fill out your top more, to your scent—you’re becoming more  

irresistible the farther along you progress. Your heart beats a little harder between your ribs as you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. His lecherous gaze is fixed, blue eyes piercing into yours. It’s been too long since he’s been inside you that it aches.  

But he’s been patient.  

Especially since the day he figured out you were pregnant. With the way you smelt he found it hard to keep his distance at times but nonetheless, he did it. But the truth is that you haven’t had penetrative sex since your cycles synced.  

To be clear, he took care of you just fine.  

Tending to your needs whenever you initiated intimacy with him but he never took it further than his fingers and mouth. After seeing you so battered by his own hands he found it hard to put you in a position that could garner a similar result again.  

For a while, he lost trust within himself.  

That he no longer had the capacity for self control. Not only did he feel like he didn’t deserve it, but he never expected you to return the pleasure either. He had already taken you on his own terms. Repeatedly.  

Ruthlessly.  

So when you ate one to many of his payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] — when the new earthiness of your scent wafted past his nose — he knew. He knew it stuck. He knew your womb swelled with his child as each day passed. And the urge to protect only swelled with it.  

He became even more gentle with you. Handling you with care when your skin softened and your hips became a little fuller. Ensuring he had excess when he cooked. Weaving an extra thick blanket for you to sleep with when he was off on duty with Tonowari.  

It ached most when he’d come home just to see it kicked off onto the floor, with you on your stomach and your leg propped up just right. Your loincloth would always shift to the side, just enough to expose plump folds that innocently peek through the seam of the thin fabric. Fuck, it more than ached. It made him tender. Throbbing in his own tewng.  

Just like now.  

He dares not to break the steady, intent stare. Or else he may steal another glance at the softness between your thighs. But he can see in your eyes that you feel similarly. You always give him that look before doing something ‘troublesome’. You break eye contact first, your eyes now landing on his tewng.  

Fuck. 

Your eyes widen a little when you catch sight of the growing, thick bulge in his loincloth. Your gaze locks onto it, taking in every detail. From the thick stripes on his thighs to the way the twine of his loincloth is cutting into his v-lines. You can even see the outline of the crown of his cock.  

His stomach rises and falls from his uneven breathing, and his abs pop out one by one as he leans further back—supporting his torso with his arms behind his back. He was never shy about his body, and he certainly isn’t now.  

“Then, why do you resist me?” Though it's a question, it doesn’t sound like one when the words drip off your lips. Your voice is soft and feigned with innocence, yet you're shuffling to get on all fours to crawl over to him. You truthfully don’t care for the answer, you knew that it would be the same old song—‘he doesn’t want to hurt you’. 

“I hurt you.” He says coldly—simply, glancing at the fading scar on your shoulder as you settle yourself on your knees beside him. He watches as your hand finds purchase on his knee, and slides up his thigh. “And now that you are with child… I—haah”. He’s cut short with a shaky breath and slight jolt when you cup his bulge with a bit of force. He looks down at your hand, dainty and slender, barely grasping half of what’s under his tewng.  

“You worry about me too much.” You mumble, more focused on the speed at which his cock pulses at. “Yet still, never yourself.” You feel around, sliding your palm up and down its length, earning a rough exhale from Ralak in return. His lidded eyes dart back over to you, taking in the sight of you almost bent over his lap.  

“That so?” His voice is thick and gruff.  

“Mhm. ‘m always telling you that, aren’t I?” You hum softly, slowly moving your hand further down between his legs, firmly cupping his balls. They’re heavy in your hand, hot to the touch and— 

Eywa. 

“They’re swollen.” You whisper breathlessly, your glossy eyes meeting him with concern. They dart back to his crotch, your hand now fumbling with the twine of his tewng, hurriedly trying to unravel the knot to get the suffocating fabric off him. 

“‘tis fine.” He winces as he spits out the words, watching you pinch him a little while struggling with the taut material.  

Ignoring his words, you continue with your task, a bit more gently now. And when the knot comes undone, the twine falls off his hips and the tewng loosens with it. You tug it off him and see that they’re not only puffed up but also darker in colour. They’re firm and pulled close to his body, perfectly round and stripes well-defined.  

Shamefully, it turns you on to see his balls so full.  

Just the thought of them being so swollen with his seed that they’re aching and throbbing to empty themselves inside you—fuck, it’s making your teeth grit. You sit back into the dip of your feet and stare as your breathing becomes heavier. The more you look the more you realize that they’re pulling tighter and tighter towards his core. You look up at him, a little surprised. Your arousal is etched into your features and it’s more than obvious in your body language. You want to know how they’d feel in your mouth. How they’d taste.  

If they’d even fit.  

Without another passing second you bend over his lap, tail high in the air and legs spread—the overpowering scent of your arousal filling the air. You shove your face between his thighs, inhaling deeply his musky scent. You let out a breath of desire, one that sounds nothing short of pleasure and satisfaction. He smells too good. You can’t help yourself but give his firm balls a quick, kitten lick. The giant above you holds back his chuckle, finding your behaviour cute and honestly a little amusing. Feeling like the butt of a joke, you firmly grasp his length and tug it upwards, causing his balls to pull even tighter.  

“Y/n.” He hisses your name, adjusting his legs to rid himself of the strained feeling. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, and press your cheek against them. They’re hot—heating up a degree higher the more you tease him. Just as you pull your cheek away and manage to fit one of them into your mouth, his hand flies to the back of your head, balling your hair into his fist.  

“You need not to—” your tail curls and the tip of it tickles against his chest, “—haah…do this.” Ralak huffs out a sigh of frustration it seems, looking down at you with somewhat of a predatory leer. You pop off with a pwah, catching your breath and turning your head.  

You both share an intent stare with one another, one that feels more challenging than anything. He’s insistent that he’s undeserving of this, and you’re insistent that he must be taken care of. His grip loosens on your hair, until he lets you go completely.  

“Shh…shh.” You shush him, eyes narrowing as they remain locked onto him. You slowly slide off the bed one leg at a time, sinking to your knees and settling yourself between his legs—now looking up at him with doe-eyes. The sight before you has your heart palpitating, just like the sight of your face so close to his cock has his jaw clenching.  

Ralak quiets himself by locking his jaw, waiting patiently to see how this unfolds. It’s the first he’s seen you in this position, on your knees, between his. His cock twitches in excitement as clear, thick beads of precum begin to roll down its length. You swallow thickly at the sight, wrapping your dainty fingers around its girth to pull it close to your flushed lips.  

Ralaks ears flutter and his eyelids grow heavy, his chest heaving as he shifts his weight to the palms of his hands—sitting up.  

You open your mouth, strings of your saliva connecting your lips together. They break when you lower your head, taking the mushroomy, glistening head of his cock into your mouth. It’s mostly sweet, and a little salty too. The corners of your mouth sting as you accommodate his thickness, and you struggle to open your jaw wide enough to take him further into your mouth.  

His head dips forward, eyes slamming shut when he feels your wet, warm tongue press against the underside of his cockhead. His hand flies to your head again, gently cupping the back of your skull as he lets out a strained breath.  

Muffled noises vibrate through your nose as you swipe your tongue side to side against his head. It throbs against your tongue each time it hits that sensitive spot right down the middle. You suckle and swipe at the same time, using your hands to pump the rest of his length until you're grunting and snorting for air. You come up, gasping to fill your lungs.  

His hand quickly slides from the back of your head to cup the swell of your cheek. His calloused thumb swipes at a bead of saliva rolling down your chin and pops it back into your mouth. “What are you doing, my tanhì?” He whispers the rhetorical question, ensuring his voice is calm and gentle. It sounds as if he’s given up—given in.  

Without answering, you take him back into your mouth, locking your jaw once you open it as wide as you possibly can. You stick your tongue out as far as it’ll go and look up at him with eyes that begin to water. He looks down at you with a concerned expression, which morphs into one of astonishment. Your head goes lower and lower, taking inch after inch of his cock down your throat.  

The tears in your eyes finally spill over, and your nose begins to burn. Half of his length is down your throat and you can barely breathe, but the more his face grimaces from how good you feel around him, the more of him you urge yourself to take. You hold onto his hips, using them as leverage to shove more of him down your throat.  

“Hnng. Easy.” He groans roughly, pushing back against your shoves. “You are pregnaaah—mmn, you will make yourself sick, tanhì.”  

Lifting your hand from his hip, you smack away his hand and take him full hilt, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making it bulge. You stop for a second, slowly inhaling through your nose to focus on not gagging. You try moving the back of your tongue, slowly stroking the rest of his length with your hand.  

“Ah, shit.” He exhales shakily, his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut. He looks focused, like he’s concentrating on not cumming down your throat right then and there. Lips parted slightly, each breath he takes becomes louder and more raggedy. His thigh muscles tense up and his legs spread a little more, his hand finding its own way to the base of your kuru.  

Chest swelling with pride, you begin to bob your head and coat his cock with your sticky spit. The more slippery it gets the harder he has to fight back his choked grunts. The grip he has on your kuru is tightening, as if he were preparing himself to pry you off his cock before he fills your throat.  

Suddenly, his head sinks back and his jaw clenches—hard. You could feel it. The way his cock twitches. The way it’s heating up. The way it’s swelling in your mouth. Gurgled noises are escaping past his lips, and he purses them tightly together in attempts to keep himself quiet. His core flexes, and his hips start to stutter. His whole body jolts from how sensitive he’s getting, and finally he thrusts into your mouth, the pointed tip of his cock slamming into the back of your throat. 

You silently gag as his hips stammer into you and he’s fucking your throat in frenzied little movements. He’s trying his hardest to be as gentle as he possibly can.m, but your throat is so soft and tight around him. You swallow around his cock as you try to take a breath and suddenly his erratic movements still. 

“Y/n.” He lets loose a dying groan as his head slumps forward and his inebriated eyes struggle to open.  

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

His voice is gravelly and thick with restraint. You love to see him like this—hear him like this. You can’t help the wandering hand that’s making its way down to your soaked tewng. You try to touch yourself through the fabric, but have a hard time finding your clit with it covered like this. Exasperated, you shove your hand under the band of your loincloth and use all four fingers to rub sloppy circles into your puffy clit.  

Ralak is too immersed into this to even take note of your desperation. He’s too desperate himself. And if you don’t stop now, he really won’t be able to help himself. He begins tugging you by your queue, trying to pry you away from him. With each hasty swipe of your fingers you suck a little harder, as if you were trying to match your pleasure with your mates’. He pulls at your kuru even harder but you’re unbudging, firmly holding the base of his cock as you relentlessly suckle on the most sensitive part of his tip.  

“Stop.” He growls out of breath, finally looking down just to be tipped close to the edge by the sight below him. You look dumb and fucked out with his cock stuffed in your mouth, broken moans vibrating against his length as you franticly touch yourself.  

Finally, he yanks you off him with one swift, hard tug, his cock slapping his stomach when it pops out of your mouth. You land on your behind, legs spreading wide open as your fingers work away at your now throbbing clit.  

“Why? Can’t handle it?” You taunt him between pants and breathy, hoarse moans. Rather than answering he looks down at you with a cocked brow, kuru still in hand. Both of you stare at one another, shoulders and chests violently heaving as you both pant for air.  He’s raw and pulsing, twitching from the heartbeat in the crown of his cock.  

It's suspended mid air, jumping from how insanely aroused he’s left himself. Sticky beads of precum constantly roll down his shaft, one after the next and his balls are throbbing too. You get back on your knees and lunge for his cock again, tongue darting out to have another taste. He pulls you back, his hand still having a firm grasp of your kuru.  

“Is this what you are like when you have been bred?” Ralak huffs, a little taken aback by your lewd behaviour. His gaze shifts to your pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, and a smirk spreads across his lips. “So desperate.” Your silence has his brows scrunching together and him yanking your head back so you’re looking up at him. A growl rumbles in his chest as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you to your knees with him—his hung cock swaying directly in your face.  

A smug little smile pulls at your lips when you realise you’re riling him up. You witness his jawbone flutter, his ears laying flat against his skull. He just wants to stuff his cock back down your throat to teach you a lesson. Instead he shoves your face into his crotch, your nose burying itself into the space between his cock and balls. He holds you there for a few seconds, just long enough that when he finally pulls you away you suck in a tiny gasp of air.  

Ralak sighs a low, lengthy breath, forcing himself to regain his composure. He can’t understand how such a little thing can be so feisty. To act as if he couldn’t pin you down and take you without a scuffle. Truthfully it only makes him even harder. It only further proves that you are really the woman for him.  

Slowly bringing you to your feet, he keeps your face pressed to his body so that your bottom lip drags along his torso as you make your way up. Your hand is still stuffed inside your tewng, slick fingers working hard to find their way back to your clit. With his free hand he grabs a hold of your hip, and steadily backs you up against the wall.  

When your back hits the wall, a shaky breath is expelled from your lungs. He lets go of your kuru and rips your hand from your tewng. He then wedges his knee between your legs, putting pressure on your clit, making it flutter uncontrollably. His movements are quick but gentle, filled with purpose and desire. His eyes dart back and forth between yours as he searches them, his face just inches away from yours.  

“Answer me, little one.” He whispers into your mouth.  

“Yes.” Your answer is breathy and short.  

Ralak heaves a heavy sigh.  

“I am trying to be gentle…” He speaks the words through gritted teeth, using both hands on your hips to spin you around to face the wall. He lowers his head until his lips graze against the tip of your ear. “…but you make it so hard for me.” He growls, using the perfect amount of force to pin you against the wall with his body. His large hand swiftly moves to your lower stomach, cupping it to act as a protective barrier between the wall and your budding womb. 

“No need to be. I can handle you just fine.” Your lips are pressed tight to your teeth, face flush against the smooth surface, making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Pregnant or not.” 

Ralak chuckles.  

“Is that right?” He speaks in an almost condescending tone, hurriedly tugging down your loincloth just enough to get access to your cunt. Without warning, he bends his knees a little to align your pelvises and then shoves his cock between your slickened, warm folds. “Oh tanhì, you are soaked.” His voice quiets down into a hushed whisper, “All from sucking my cock?”   

A mewl splits your lips just as all the blood rushes to your face, staining it a bright pink. Your pussy clenches around nothingness only causing more of your slick to ooze on his cock. Your breath turns shaky, tail swishing wildly behind you. You can’t move even if you wanted to. He’s got you pinned down, quickly reminding you of his strength. And had it not been for his hand on your abdomen you would be completely plastered to the wall and taken on his terms.  

“Tsk-tsk…Have you no shame?” Ralak tuts, holding you still. “Or must I give you a lesson on self-restraint?”  

Despite his cockiness you can sense the urgency in his body language and in his voice. You can feel it in the way his hips stutter, as his cock slides back and forth between your pussy lips. His own desperation. The desire to be inside you. The need for release.  

“Go on then, karyu.” You moan softly, causing his grip on you to loosen for a millisecond. Hearing that name brings a feeling of nostalgia. Of lust. You push back into him, your slippery hole trying to suck him inside with a few quick movements of your pelvis. “But I know you’ve been desperate… desperate to fuck your numeyu.” 

“Oh, little one.” His chuckle is dark and depraved, his protective hand stiffening as if he were preparing it for what's to come. “Yet you are trying your hardest to take me inside you.” He licks your ear lobe to tip, whispering, “so cute.” 

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You mutter under your breath, steadying your feet to ground yourself.  

Ralaks ears flicker and stand tall, then immediately lay flat to his head—his brow cocking in astonishment. His smirk grows wider, the heat in his chest spreading to his extremities. Now that pushes him over the edge.  

“Say that again, numeyu.” He challenges you in a growl, angling his hips so his weeping cockhead prods at your entrance. He ensures not to let the buck of his hips win, keeping you empty and yearning.  

“Haah… afraid to take what’s yours.” You purr, rising to the tips of your toes to try sink him inside you. “Fnawe’tu—” 

Smack. 

The sound of his swollen balls making contact with your puffy clit is almost as loud as your broken gasp. You smile open mouthed as he holds his position balls deep inside you, firmly pressing the tip of his cock into your cervix. He’s grinding his back teeth, digging his chin into your shoulder to quell the rumble of his chest from how tight you’re squeezing his cock.  

You whine from the fullness of him stuffed inside your cunt, his unmoving hips sending a clear message of dominance. He’s hunched over you, body weight pinning you mercilessly against the wall, hand over your womb to keep your unborn safe—as promised. Still being gentle enough.  

But you want him to lose it.  

To fuck into you like he were in rut again. To use your pussy like a fucktoy to satiate his own greed and self pleasure. He deserves that much, for being such a competent and loving man to you. Yet it seems the only way to bring that out of him is to play dirty.  

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You repeat shakily. 

Smack. 

Another deep and hard thrust into your sloppy cunt. He lets loose the rumble in his chest this time, bearing his canines and putting most of his weight on you now. Lips pressed tightly together, your whimper is muffled and outright pathetic, pinched brows giving away the pleasure rippling through you. Still, he remains unmoving, undeniably making it clear who has the most leverage here. But that doesn’t really matter to you—you’re getting what you want, one way or another.  

Right?  

“Voìk si, little one [behave].” Ralak hisses, fighting the inner conflict within him.  

“Haa—” Your laugh that follows is a little sinister, open mouthed and smug. Hands pressing into the wall you push off its surface, sinking him deeper inside you. “No.”  

“Alright.” His voice is husky, thick with confidence and temperance.  

With a rough, quick tug, his cock slips out of you with a squelch, hanging freely between his legs. Your slick mixed with his precum slowly dribbling off his tip and onto the floor between your pointed feet. You fall to the flat of your feet, panting and whining from the sudden emptiness.  

“W-Wait.” You squeak, hastily getting back on the tips of your toes to stuff him inside you again. “Please.”  

“What was that?” Ralak asks, voiced feigned with innocence. “A little louder.” 

“Please.” You barely whisper, backing up on him.  

“Come now, tanhì.” His hand slips from your hip to grip his cock. Giving it a few strokes he teases your cunt with his cockhead and you instinctively shimmy down. Hips snapping back to prevent you from taking him inside, he dips his head so his mouth is next to your ear and husks, “You can do better than that.”  

“Please!” You moan loudly in desperation, reaching down to your knees to unfetter yourself from your tewng [loincloth].  

“Please, what?” Ralak spits the last word through pursed lips, ready to give you exactly what you want if you just ask for it nicely.  

“Please put it back inside.” You beg pathetically, finally getting the knot of your tewng undone. “Please, fuck me.” 

“Ahh, there’s my good girl.” Ralak praises you with a grin, sinking his cock into your warmth at a leisurely pace. His breathing stutters for every inch that penetrates you. “Was that so hard?”  

“Fuck.” You moan in relief, spreading your legs wider. He’s tamed you and he knows it. “No.” 

“No…?” Ralak says it like a question, hissing when he bottoms out in your cunt.  

“No, karyu.” You answer coyly, voice faltering from the pressure of his cockhead pushing into your cervix.  

“Agh—haah” Ralak lets out a gruff grunt in response, his hips now snapping back and forth out of his control. He’s huffing and puffing next to your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you in a frenzy of need. Swollen balls repeatedly slapping against your clit, it’s almost impossible to hold back the gurgled noises escaping your throat.  

“Fuck—so—fuckin’—deep—fuck.” The curses are punched out of you as he relentlessly smacks into you again and again.  

“Lì’fyaz [language.]” Ralak chides in a growl, hand slipping down to pull back the hood of your clit—taut.  

The continuous sting of your clit has your legs shaking and the way his cockhead is repeatedly stimulating your sweet spot has your eyes rolling back into your head. It’s almost too much all at once yet you yearn for more. Your cunt clamps down around him, especially when the tension becomes so tight you feel your stomach double-knot. Ralak hums when you tighten around him, only making him rut harder into you.  

Pulling back, he glances down at you sucking him in, your tail curled tight to your back and his cock plunging in and out of your pussy. He can see just how tight you are as your pussy walls grip his girth mercilessly. And with the protective hand on your abdomen, he can feel each thrust against the palm of his hand. It makes his chest swell with pride— 

You carry his child yet still take him so well.  

“Oeÿa tsantu [my good girl]” Ralak slips into his native tongue, panting in an accent as thick as tree sap. “Oeÿa numeyutsyìp [my little student]” 

Ralaks cock heats up inside you, heating your core along with it. It’s the same familiar sensation you feel before he provides you with your release. The feeling that keeps your eyes squeezed shut and breath shallow. He knows your close and slows his thrusts like he usually does, fucking you a little harder rather than faster, angling his pelvis so he’s right in your swelling g-spot.  

Your hands fly behind you, grasping at whatever’s available as your orgasm washes through you. You gush all over your thighs, cum dribbling down your legs to your feet, some spattering on Ralak as he fucks and holds you through your high. It’s sudden and uncontrollable, leaving you sputtering out nonsense and your legs shaking violently beneath you.  

“There it is. Good muntxate [wife].” Ralak huffs with a smirk, relishing in the quick, feverish flutter of your cunt on his cock. His voice is shaky from his uneven rhythm now that he can finally allow himself to finish too. “Love—hng—when you cum for me, you—ahh, haah—know that?” 

He begins grinding to you, shoving you further into the wall as he focuses on his own climax. He uses his feet to kick your legs closed, and pulls out of you, stuffing himself between your thighs. He’s groaning and growling, hunched over you with bent knees and flushed, flattened ears. Skin slapping against skin, he humps at your thighs, thick cock sliding back and forth over your still pulsing clit.  

His cockhead continuously pokes out between your folds, tip oozing and oozing with precum. Both his hands fly to your hips, gripping them with force as his thrusts become almost violent. You struggle to keep yourself standing as his hips smack into you repeatedly, your body jolting with each thrust. He gives you one last, harsh thrust, holding you still against him as you feel his cock throb wildly between your thighs. You look down to see his huge load shoot out in thick, white ropes. He’s grumbling behind you, giving your thighs an extra few uncontrollable thrusts as he peaks in his high.  

Finally you fall to the flat of your feet, his arms instantly snaking around your waist to support your weight entirely.  

“I told you no taunting, tanhì.” He’s referring to the time he opened up about his first rut, “Next time, you ask nicely. Tslam? [Understand?]” Ralak says breathlessly.  

“Sran, oeÿa karyu. tslolam. [Yes, my teacher. I understand].” You blubber, fucked out and jaded.  

—— 

[menuliso]

i actually think i have some sort of brain damage from chapter 403 because now ive taken my bkdk obsession to a whole new degree. like, i was insane before, but now i feel as if i should be genuinely put into an asylum.

ive gone through a full on awakening.

before this chapter i refused to believe that bkdk would become canon/hinted bc like its wishful thinking. but now? ive fallen into the fucking deep end. i am of full belief that bkdk will become canon or at least be hinted bc horikoshi is cooking something and im so glad im not the only one to see it.

there is no way that man doesnt know what hes doing. bkdks entire arc has been fucking perfect and this man just keeps BUILDING UP. like all this talk about feelings, and how bkdk have never really spoken about them to eachother before??? this is like, building up to a fucking love confession i swear, because katsuki DIED for izuku, and izuku cant control his heart when it comes to katsuki, and like… what other explaination is there? atp i consider it canon that theyre in love with each other.

and the other most likely ship that i thought was gonna be canon, izuocha, just is not feasible. its not like i dislike the ship, no hate to it at all, but making it canon would be so fucking harmful to izuku and ochakos characters and we dont talk about that enough. it would a dissapointing, flat conclusion with barely any build up and itd be the bland, predictable formula. like, ochako has already basically wrapped up her thing with izuku with that entire fight with toga. shes admitted herself that her crush on izuku was more admiration than anything of massive substance. and dont even get me started on izuku. barring some fluster and embarrassed blushing in the early seasons, this boy has NOT reciprocated AT ALL. its actually ridiculous. izuku has been focused on like, two things only: hero work, and kacchan. izuku does not show ANY romantic feeling to ochako whatsoever.

surely, surely if horikoshi were to make this canon, he’d put in a little more effort? add some more chemistry, more development, more than just ‘boy meets girl. blush and get shy. little crush. get married. the end’?

that is bad storytelling, and horikoshi is anything but a bad storyteller. this guy adds foreshadowing YEARS before the chapter. horikoshi is INSANE when it comes to character + relationship + plot development. if horikoshi throws all that out the way, and makes izuocha canon, id be extremely, extremely disappointed. not because i hate the ship, but because itd be out of nowhere, disregard practically ALL development, and be nauseatingly dissatisfying.

talking of which, for the entire day ive been thinking about the foreshadowing for bkdk.

there. is. so. fucking. much. it feels like everytime i read like a new section of the manga, their relationship is described in the most frutti tutti rainbow gay way. im sorry, shigafo, did you just say that katsuki is closer to izuku than ANYONE else? excuse me, aizawa, did you just describe them as pair, a pair that the class revolves around? dont even mention the shit that izuku and katsuki say referring to each other. i cant even choose one to add in here, but every out of context bkdk quote has like these SEVERE more-than-platonic undertones, especially when you consider their past and their development. i feel like horikoshi has been doing some fucking insane foreshadowing for something MORE.

yk, i keep on thinking about how in the double spread in 403, the words ‘the beginning’ are displayed right over bkdk, as they find each other. call me delusional, but that has to be on purpose. i also keep on thinking about izukus green and orange gloves in so many official arts, and the light in both their eyes when they see each other, and the way theyre both always observing the other, never speaking about how they feel directly.

their relationship is just so, so……. and i feel like the only next step is for them to talk. just. fucking. talk. its been hinted at for so long, and horikoshi is doing SOMETHING.

them simply being together would be the most satisfying, developed, beautiful ending.

if they arent canon, i will die. ill say it now. bkdk canon. there is too much proof. as a writer, i know for a fact that i write everything for a REASON. why would horikoshi write this, if he wasn’t going to do anything with it?

bkdk will be canon. i dont care if i sound insane, or get proved entirely wrong. i now fully believe that the last page of the manga will be bkdk at a theme park eating crepes.

thank you chapter 403 for driving me off the rails.

[padfootagain]

Something Good (IV)

Chapter 4 : Ex

Here I come with a new chapter for this series! This is just cute, no warnings to be applied.

I hope you like this chapter!

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Warnings : none, just fluff

Sum up : Coming out of a divorce and trying to get used to being a single mom, while teaching your classes at University, you thought your life could not get more complicated than it already iss. But when you are asked to take care of the theatre club with the colleague that you really can't get along with, you realize that everything can still get ten times more complicated in your life. And when you start actually liking Professor Barnes, the troubles only grow exponentially...

Pairing: Ben Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2850

"He's so annoying!"

You planted your fork angrily into the innocent piece of potato in your plate, making your friend laugh.

"Oh, come on. He's not that bad," Jasmine argued, drinking some water.

"Sorry, forgot you fancied him."

She almost choked on her drink.

"I DO N…!"

She looked around, realizing that your colleagues were now staring at your side of the table.

It was lunchtime, or rather… it had been lunchtime about an hour before. You and your friend had been too busy to get a proper break, and were hurrying to finish eating to get back to work. The advantage of being late was that the lunch room was almost entirely empty, filled with researchers and PhD students from other departments you barely knew. You could thus talk all you wished about your new nemesis.

Because if at first you had tried to allow him the benefit of the doubt, you had given up after that last meeting.

Insufferable. Ben was truly insufferable.

"I do not fancy him," your colleague repeated, with the same outraged and angered look, only in a whisper this time.

"Really? I thought you did… What was the description you gave me when I arrived here last year… oh yeah. 'Gorgeous', 'charismatic'..."

She threw a piece of bread at your face, making you both laugh and effectively shushing you.

"I'm serious, Y/N," Jasmine resumed the conversation after taking a bite of her salad. "He's very sweet."

"For now, he has hidden that part of his personality with great talent."

"He just… he's shy. And I think something happened that made him fear change."

"What happened?"

Jasmine looked around for eavesdroppers, making you chuckled at her dramatic gesture. As if she was about to reveal a secret worthy of the MI6…

"No one knows. Some people say that Miles knows what it is, but he’s never told anyone. And you know how much Miles loves both hearing and talking about gossip. So, it must be something… strange."

"Strange? What now? Do you really picture that guy as a psychopathic murderer?" you joked, unable to refrain your laughter.

You were interrupted by a tired 'hello!' spoken behind you. Paul had just walked in, aiming for the coffee machine, unsurprisingly. You both waved at him before resuming your conversation. You were sitting at a table not too far from the sink and the old table on which rested an exhausted microwave, an electric kettle that only worked if you kept your finger pressed on the 'start' button, and the coffee machine. You thus had to speak a little louder to be heard as your colleague was preparing his hot beverage, the coffee machine making a rumbling noise that could be heard from across the corridor.

"Of course, nothing like that," Jasmine replied, rolling her eyes. "He's very sweet. I meant that something must have happened to him that kind of… closed him up. You know?"

"Closed him up? You mean… that shoved a stick up his arse…"

"Y/N! Don't be mean!"

It was your time to roll your eyes.

"Right… so what should I do about Ben then?"

"You should be more patient with him. Try to calm that tornado of yours."

"I'm a tornado now?"

"You do have a tendency to create chaos everywhere you go."

You reflected for a moment on this thought, and had to admit it wasn't entirely false. But then, your life had turned you into this ball of energy that could never calm down. With your demanding job, your daughter to take care of, single-parenting, your asshole of an ex-husband… if you slowed down, even for a moment, you were afraid you would crumble.

But then again, if your colleague was the kind to need time to accept change… maybe you could try to slow down, at least concerning the theatre club. Give him one more chance…

Ben was pacing. His office was small, and yet he took advantage of every square inch in an attempt to get rid of some of his frustration.

A stick up his arse?!

Really?!

“Not sure I was right to tell you about that…” Paul mumbled, watching his friend moving through the room.

“Oh, no! You were perfectly right to tell me! Because now, this is war.”

“Come on, Ben…”

“No! I really tried to be understanding. I am well aware that I am not perfect, and I could make things easier, and I tried. I really did try. But clearly, she has no intention to make an effort. Can you believe that? A stick up my arse… I’m going to show her. I’m going to show her if I can’t be cool and relaxed as well.”

Hands planted on his hips, he stared at the campus laid beyond his window. Students were here for the beginning of their classes. A new school year had begun, with its back and forth, its teenagers lost in corridors and a stressed level abnormally high for the teachers who needed to get used to teaching again.

A stick up his arse!

He needed to make you pay for this. But how? How could he show you that he was absolutely not the old, grumpy teacher you seemed to think he was?

Suddenly, a smile grew on his features, both bright and a little… dangerous.

“I know what I’m going to do!”

He turned to Paul in a twirl.

“I am going to find the perfect musical, one that all the students will want to perform. Then my play will be chosen and she will have to work on something I have decided for the whole year.”

“Alright… and what play is going to bring you your sweet but outrageously undeserved vengeance?”

“Oh yes, it’s going to be sweet, alright…”

“That was not the information you were meant to retain from my statement.”

“I need to find a play. I need to find a musical that’s cool… What kind of musicals are cool?”

Paul remained silent for a moment, arms crossed, thinking hard.

“Hamilton!”

Ben nodded with a bright smile.

“Excellent choice! I love that one too, it would be brilliant!”

“You’re welcome. I am unbelievably smart indeed, thank you, I am well aware of that.”

“Thank you, Paul,” Ben bowed down dramatically, making both of them laugh.

Paul had to leave for a class shortly after. Ben prepared himself a warm cup of tea before sitting down behind his desk, ready to go back to work. He still had to go through the lesson he was giving the next day to some of the first-year students, and then go through several articles, fill up a form to get access to some rare documents of the local archives, and he also had to check for a trip to London to the British Library to work on original manuscripts in the coming months…

He heaved a sigh: so many things to do. He picked up a blank sheet of paper and wrote down his to-do list, pushing up his glasses as they began slipping down his nose. He stared at the list for a moment, checking if he had forgotten anything else…

Oh, but he needed to find another musical! He remembered then that you had agreed on three plays to propose for a vote to your students. One you could choose individually, and one you would settle on together. He needed to come up with one more option…

He thought about it for a few minutes, but his brain was already set on this lesson he had to prepare, and he gave up quickly. He couldn’t focus on this now. Besides, he reckoned that his impressive collection of films at home would help him find inspiration. For now, he merely added another line at the bottom of his to-do list, set the paper next to his computer screen, and went back to work.

Ex-husband. Ex. That was still a term you had to wrap your mind around.

Ex.

It was a strange feeling, really. Saying goodbye to the person you believed would spend the rest of his life with you. And all of a sudden, by the gain of this little particle before his designation, all your plans for the next 60 years had to be re-written.

Ex. That's what these two little letters meant. A whole life planned out and vanishing.

It was outstanding, really, what two tiny letters could carry within their shapes. It wasn't just a new way to define a person, that was only what a dictionary would have offered as a definition. But you knew better, you taught English Literature after all. You tried to teach that to your students. Words mean more than what the dictionary reveals.

Inside these two letters were the months spent fighting with him. The weeks you didn't sleep. The rage within your ribcage. The loss. The grief. The doubts. The loneliness of coming home to an empty house when you had believed you would never have to do that again. Thinking of ways to tell your daughter until you got headaches. The lawyers. A pen. Signing your name, the same signature as the one you had used when you got married, this time to break a vow instead of building one. It was staring at your wedding ring for weeks without being able to take it off; and then finally slipping it off your finger while crying and hiding it away in a drawer. It was removing his pictures in your house. It was finding a new place because your home felt too empty without him. It was staring at his name for hours on your phone screen in the dark of your bedroom without dialling the number. It was waking up alone. It was sharing custody of your daughter. It was grief. And then… then it was fear. Fear that maybe there was something wrong with you, and that it was the reason why it didn't work out in the first place.

That was where you were at after a year of separation. It was tough, you weren't going to deny it. It was hell, even. But you still got out of bed every morning, so you reckoned you weren't doing so bad.

The flat felt empty and too silent without your daughter around. It was the weekend, and she was with your husband.

No, ex-husband. Ex.

The infamous two little letters.

You were alone in your apartment, just scrolling on your phone at random while something was on TV, but you didn't even know what it was. A movie of some kind. Despite the noise coming from the screen, there were no giggles from your daughter, you couldn't hear her play or draw, rummaging through all her little pencils. Instead, you were stuck with the TV screen. It felt lonely.

That was the hardest part: you were lonely.

You hadn't felt that way since you started dating your ex. Even when the two of you were apart because of a business trip, the only knowledge that he was missing you filled the hole in your chest. But there was nothing now to ease the feeling.

Sometimes, like today, you even missed him. Even wished the two of you were fighting, at least then you wouldn't be on your own. It was stupid and you knew it, but what else could you do against a pain like that?

Your friends encouraged you to go out more, now that you were single again, and some of your evenings were free when your daughter was with her father. But it wasn't the point, and your friends didn't get it. Even when you were with them, you were lonely. It wasn't about seeing friends, it was about being alone. You weren't sure how to explain it, weren’t sure how to find the right words. Ironic for someone who spent her life studying the words of others…

You stood up in a jolt and moved to your bedroom to open a drawer. The strength of your movement disrupted some of your clothes, although your drawer was more of a messy agglomeration of fabric than anything else. Folding took too long, after all. You rummaged through the socks, t-shirts and jeans until you found that little velvet box you had been looking for. Two rings inside, for when Steve proposed and when he married you. You were crying before you could even notice.

You almost wished it wasn't over. Almost. You had to leave him though.

But you were alone now, and what if you couldn't love anyone else?

Or worse, what if no one else could love you?

No, you couldn’t let yourself think this way. You were not perfect by any means, but your husband was also to blame for the end of your marriage. Actually, it was mostly his fault. You had made a bargain, and he didn’t respect his part of the agreement.

You threw the box back into your drawer, burying it deep under your clothes, and stormed out of the room.

You needed something to do. And this bloody TV was completely uninteresting.

What to do? What to do…? Watch a movie! That would take your mind off of your self-pity. Alright, a movie… what movie…

You scanned the shelf upon which you kept your DVDs. You could have checked Netflix, but didn’t feel like it. You wanted a safe option, something you were certain to enjoy. So your own DVDs it was…

Your finger ran across the boxes until you found the perfect one. A movie that would make you cry but in the best way.

You got yourself some popcorn before settling with a warm blanket on your sofa, as the first notes of Moulin Rouge! played.

Ewan McGregor’s sweet voice… it was just what you needed.

Ben had spent a lovely day. A nice run early in this Sunday morning while the sun was still shy and delicate. He had spent quite a while on the phone with his parents, and then with his brother. Then he had met up with a couple of friends for a late lunch, and after a walk across the city he had ended his day by a couple of hours reading. Dinner while listening to the news on the radio, and finally, he was about to settle for a nice movie night. Just what he needed to be full of energy to start a brand-new week the next day.

He had poured himself a glass of red wine and was about to settle in front of some Netflix show he had been binge-watching that week, when he suddenly caught a glimpse of a small piece of paper set on his coffee table.

He heaved a sigh as he picked it up, already knowing what it said, but reading the last line anyway.

On the to-do list, all the tasks had been crossed out, except for one. The last line.

Find another musical - theatre club

He bit his lip, hesitated, but decided he had to complete this one last task. He would keep on thinking about it while watching his show if he didn’t, and he couldn’t have that. It would ruin his evening.

So, instead of settling under a warm blanket, he turned on his heels and walked to the bookshelves on which he kept his DVD collection. A collection he had curated for years. He was almost as proud of it as he was of his book collection. And that was saying a lot…

He narrowed his eyes a little, having left his glasses on his coffee table, and scanned the titles of the movies in search for inspiration. He did have a respectable choice of musicals, as he enjoyed the genre very much. The perfect mix of storytelling and music… how could he not like that?

He scanned the titles, letting his finger run across the boxes to guide his eyes.

Hair? No. Awesome music, but he didn’t feel like doing something so political.

Les Mis? No, too long, and too depressing.

The Sound of Music was your choice already.

My fair lady? Too much of a classic, and he needed something cooler to contradict your impression of him.

West Side Story? You had used your veto for this one.

His finger stopped on the next one. He took a sip of alcohol, staring at the title for a moment, before picking it up from the shelf.

He turned off Netflix to watch his DVD instead.

Settling on his couch as the first notes echoed through his apartment, Ben smiled, knowing that he had made the right choice.

The world of prostitution and parties in the Paris of the end of the 19th century, with a passionate and yet tragic love story, and a set of amazing songs… you would see if he had a ‘stick up his arse…’.

Yes, Moulin Rouge! was the perfect choice.

Ha… and Ewan McGregor’s sweet voice! Yes, as Ben took another sip of his red wine, he reckoned that this was a perfect evening indeed.

[dari-ede]

Sights on Each Other: Part III

Laughter and Tears in Life

I - II - III - IV

Masterlist

Summary: Hoseok always wanted to live out his Fast and Furious fantasy—or at the very least get a taste of it on the track. He finally gets his chance. He learns how to properly drive on the racetrack with the help of a gifted individual. Too bad his instructor finds himself falling for the young idol. Follow J-Hope as he learns a new craft and helps a complete stranger discover something deep within himself. (NO smut. This story is about a friendship and one-sided attraction—narrator.)

Pairing: J-Hope x Male Reader (friendship only)

Rating: M (mature themes such as sexual awakening, depression)

Status: Complete

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2022

The place was packed. It had been my third year working here and I had never seen it so full. Sure, COVID had kept things small, but there was no denying that J-Hope’s presence at the festival was the cause of such a crowd.

Security was also very tight, so there was almost no opportunity for me to get close to him. Not that he was close enough for me to even call out to him. There were always a few dozen feet that separated us.

Before the start of the show, I had even gotten a glimpse of Maya and Jimin. I wasn’t active much on social media but I wasn’t clueless enough to have missed the news that these two had arrived for the event.

A part of me wondered if Maya would recognize me. However, she too was far away.

Feeling down that I hadn’t gotten the chance to at least catch their attention, I tried to focus on the event itself—and my job.

Some of the acts had done a good job, but most people were here for one guy—like I was.

And finally, the last artist before J-Hope finished. It was time to transition for his show. The moment was close.

However, as I made my way to my spot, I was held back by someone.

“Zee?” asked the person with their hand on my shoulder.

I turned to them and noticed it was a young, petite Asian woman with a slight accent. I had never noticed her before. But she had a lanyard around her neck like the majority of the staff and several wristbands. She must be one of the higher-ups because she wasn’t wearing the uniform. “Yes?” I asked.

She smiled. “Would you please come with me? It’ll only be a second.”

“Is everything alright?” I asked. We were told not to leave our posts.

“Yes. I’ve spoken to your supervisor already. I just need your assistance with something. It’ll be quick.”

I was confused but decided to follow.

I hoped it would be quick. I didn’t want to miss the show. Sure there was plenty of time left, but I didn’t want to risk it.

***********

2014

The next day I entered some old building in the city. I was quite surprised that I had arrived at the right place. Considering that J-Hope had said he was in some group, I would think his company would get him a decent place to work in. Surely, his label was able to afford a better place than some downtown sketchy area. It wasn’t a place that seemed safe after hours.

Suddenly, I found myself worried and hoping he wasn’t made to stay to practice in such a place well into the night. LA wasn’t as bad as the media made it out to be but one still had to be cautious in certain areas.

I sent Maya a text telling her I was outside. She must have been on a break because she immediately answered.

She was one of J-Hope’s and his group’s dance instructors during their stay; that’s how they had met. It was odd that Maya had taken a side job of the sort seeing that her stardom was really taking off. She had her career now she could focus on. However, she had mentioned she had taken on the instructor position as a favor for someone. Plus, it was a good business plan for her own girl group. J-Hope’s group was filming their practices and show, so Maya would be getting exposure overseas for her group. It was smart, honestly.

Just as I entered the building and made my way into the hall, I was greeted by Maya jogging my way.

“You can get lost here easily,” she said as she got to me. “Plus, there’s a guy in the staff who’s kind of an ass. I can see him giving you trouble and attitude if you get to us alone.”

I gave a slight nod, understanding. “You guys on break?”

“Yeah. Just for a bit. Gonna practice for another two hours and then we’re gonna catch lunch. Hopefully. If Mr. Asshole lets them.”

“Mr. Asshole?” I asked, confused.

She rolled her eyes. “The staff is overall really kind. But there’s one or two of them that are extremely strict. I’d like to tell you the details but we’re about to arrive,” she said as she slowed her walk as we got to a turn.

I looked up and took the turn with her. Upon turning, there were two Asian men sitting outside a door, looking at us skeptically.

Maya muttered something to them.

One of the men nodded but the other kept his eyes on me. I swear if looks could kill….

Pretending as if nothing was wrong, Maya made her way past them and opened the door. She held it for me and waited for me to enter first. As I took a few steps in, we exchanged a look. I guess I had just met Mr. Asshole.

Once inside the room, I could see people scattered in little groups throughout the room. There were cameramen, young girls chatting in the corner, some guys in the middle of the room dancing, and others off in a corner goofing off.

My eyes seem to immediately scout and spot J-Hope. He was among the group off in the corner. Without even thinking, my voice just took over. “J-Hoooooope!”

J-Hope’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes wide with concern. The frightened look on his face didn’t last. Upon seeing it was me, that bright smile took over.

Letting out a booming laugh, he made his way over to me. “Zee!”

After giving dap and slapping each other on the back, I noticed Jimin and Suga had come over as well. Greeting the pair of them in a similar fashion, J-Hope called over the rest of his group mates.

I met the broad-shoulder guy with too much eye-liner, Jin, the leader of the group—whatever that meant—who was tall and a little lanky, Rapmon, the little kid with the deep voice, V, and the youngest of them, Jungkook. They all were all smiles and seemed excited and eager when the end of their break was called. Hell, if it was me, I would have looked crabby.

As the guys continued with practice, I sat against the wall and watched.

I was surprised by how good they were. Not all of them seemed like natural dancers but there was no denying they all equally cared to perfect the job.

But in spite of their working hard, they also seemed to be playful. At one point, the kid with the deep voice—V—made a mistake and stepped on Jimin. The pair of them started to “fight” about it. The rest of the guys paid their bickering no mind but the youngest of them kept laughing at their banter.

I quickly took notice how Jimin kept physically close to some of the other guys. It wasn’t just J-Hope that he seemed touchy with. Also, I took note how some of the other guys acted in a similar fashion to Jimin—there was close contact and back hugs. Maybe it was the culture.

Maybe J-Hope and Jimin weren’t romantically involved.

My heart made a flutter at this thought.

Doing my best to stay focused on the guys’ dancing, I tried to squash these emotions down.

For the next couple of hours, I watched practice without getting the slightest bit bored. J-Hope sent me a lot of smiles and laughs. We exchanged a few words but mostly, I let him work.

Maya had stated practice was soon going to be over; however, a guy walked into the room and the whole mood seemed to change. It was Mr. Asshole.

The guys grew quiet. There was no more laughter.

Maya’s facial features altered as well. She suddenly had a resting bitch face.

“Ok, guys. One last time and then we can call it a day,” she said pretty loudly. Then said some words in Korean.

The cameras followed her as she got into position in front of the guys. The crew looked excited that the day was finally going to be over.

Mr. Asshole said something out loud.

I didn’t understand but judging by everyone's faces and groans, I reasoned whatever he said wasn’t good.

Maya placed her hands on her hips and responded back in Korean.

The man ignored her and we left the room.

She looked ready to punch someone.

J-Hope reached over to her and muttered something. “It’s ok,” I heard him say gently.

Taking a deep breath, she gave a nod. Turning to me, she gave a short description of what had just occurred. Their manager, Mr. Asshole, was wanting the guys to continue practicing.

For the next hour, the guys continued their work.

I started noticing a change with them, though. Their energy was clearly dropping. And some of the guys didn’t look too hot.

Maya called for a small break, holding V and leading him over to where the water was.

J-Hope walked over to where I was. I handed him a bottle of water. “You ok, man?”

He nodded and gladly took the water. He was out of breath but looked ok.

The same couldn’t be said about the rest of the guys, though. Even the staff looked to be a bit overworked. Although all they were doing was waiting, I had to remember that I had been here for well over three hours and none of them had eaten much. It was pushing past five already.

A bit later, Maya seemed to make a call. She spoke to one of the other staff present and they agreed the guys had gotten enough practice.

“Let’s go,” Maya told the guys. “Time to eat.”

V looked more than happy.

Some of the guys exchanged a look of worry, almost as if they wanted to get the ok from someone else.

One of the staff stepped in and said something to them, a smile on her face. She seemed more pleasant than Mr. Asshole.

“What’s happening?” I asked Maya as the staff spoke to Rapmon and J-Hope.

“Nothing. They practiced enough. Mr. Asshole stepped outside a while ago and we’re not sure when he’s gonna be back. One of the staff tried reaching him but he’s not answering. I think it’s good that we stop. They’ve practiced enough but they don’t seem to go unless Mr. Asshole says it’s ok.” Maya didn’t seem at all happy saying this. “Hopefully, this staff member is able to convince them to leave.”

A few minutes later, the guys finally gave in but didn’t seem happy about it.

I took the lead to show them where I was parked. J-Hope was right next to me.

We made our way over to my car and I took out my keys. “Wanna drive?” I asked a smiling J-Hope.

However, before he could answer a yell from behind us made us stop and turn around.

Mr. Asshole was making his way toward us.

Suddenly, I saw seven tall males turn into little children. All of their necks bowed down as Mr. Asshole seemed to scold them.

Maya stepped in between, though, keeping him from getting close to the guys. She said something quick in Korean—almost with a matter-of-fact tone. Then she turned away from him and pushed the guys towards our cars.

“We’ll bring them back by 11,” Maya said as she made eye contact with me, shoving Jungkook in front of her.

I was quick to notice how she kept her hands on the young one’s shoulders, keeping him from turning around towards the manager. A look of slight worry washed over Jungkook’s face.

A little confused as to what was happening, I opened my mouth to say something but then the guy yelled out something in Korean.

I wasn’t fluent in the language, but the tone made it clear he was unhappy and looked absolutely pissed at Maya.

Before I could even think to react, Maya turned to the fool. Her face also didn’t look so thrilled and while she kept her voice at an even volume, the tone she carried was stern and icy. She wasn’t to be messed with.

I couldn’t understand a word she was saying but by the looks coming out of the guys, she was saying something pretty ballsy.

Not waiting for a response, she turned back around and muttered something to Jungkook. She pushed him forward again.

Jungkook followed instructions and allowed her to maneuver him to the car. At his side, V was being handled as well. Maya managed to take hold of his shirt and drag him along.

I made my way over to my car, catching J-Hope’s eyes, which were wide with shock by what had occurred.

“Zee, you drive this time. I got V, Jungkook, Jimin, and Suga. Take J-Hope, Rapmon, and Jin.” Maya had a look and demeanor about her that I could not describe better than a mama bear.

I wasn’t about to be stupid enough to question her, so I made my way over to the driver’s side, telling J-Hope, Rapmon, and Jin to get into the car with me.

We wasted no time. Maya didn’t even wait for the guys in her car to buckle up. The moment all the doors were closed in her car, she drove off. I followed suit.

After checking the rearview mirror to ensure we weren’t being followed, I finally spoke up. “What happened back there?” I asked, turning slightly to J-Hope.

Stuttering for a moment as he tried to explain to me, J-Hope finally turned back to Rapmon. The two exchanged some words in Korean before Rapmon finally spoke up.

“Our manager wanted us to continue practice. Maya was just reminding him that we hadn’t eaten since morning. She was telling him we had to eat,” said Rapmon.

I filled everything in my head as I thought back to the day. Maya had mentioned that practice was supposed to only be another 2 hours when I arrived. However, the guys were pushing close to 4. Suddenly, I remembered how faint V looked and how off-color Jungkook appeared as well. Her mama-bear attitude made sense.

“She’s looking after you guys,” I said out loud. “She’s right—you need to eat.”

They didn’t agree with me, but they also visibly didn’t disagree. They stayed quiet.

A thought came to my head. “Will you guys get in trouble?” I asked, feeling concerned.

Rapmon spoke up. “No. He will probably forget. He was only in town today. He’s not coming back until the day of the concert. He might have forgotten by then. But Sejin will be there. He keeps things calm.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the car for a good while. There were so many questions lingering in my head—concerns I had about their well-being. However, I kept my questions to myself. I didn’t know the guys well enough to ask such personal questions. I wasn’t like Maya who seemed to have immediately inserted herself in the guys’ business—in a good way. But that was Maya. She was a spitfire and not one to shy away from anything.

It wasn’t surprising that over the years she had stayed close to the guys. There was a famous clip on the internet of her calling some DJs who were saying grotesque words about the guys. It was right around the time when they started to get popular in the States. Many people in the media had been disrespectful towards the group. In the beginning, Maya seemed to never miss an opportunity to publicly snap back at anyone who mistreated the guys. She had swept the floor with the DJs and had brought down their popularity after she exposed them.

I wish I could have seen the future during that awkward drive with J-Hope, Rapmon, and Jin. I was concerned about their well-being: afraid their manager would make their life hell later. But I shouldn’t have worried. Later on, through fan forums, I learned this manager had been fired.

A while later, we arrived at the beach. I had followed Maya, not knowing where we would be going. However, after getting to the parking lot, I knew exactly where we would be eating.

“My treat,” Maya said as she headed to the small restaurant.

We all followed and ordered together.

Taking the largest table, I was grateful that the place was mostly empty. Fitting 9 people would have taken too long.

My eyes glazed over to the ocean view. While I lived in close proximity to the beach, I hardly ever visited. I turned to J-Hope who was sitting next to me. “How’s the water in Korea?”

He didn’t understand.

“Temperature. Water. Cold? Hot?” I asked as I motioned to the beach. “Beach?”

His face became clear. “Oh. Cold.”

“Have you been to the beach here yet?” Once again, he looked confused. I really needed to only use simple words. I tried again. “You touch this beach?”

“Yes! Touch before,” he answered.

“We went to the beach a few days ago,” Maya explained. “They say the water is a lot warmer here than there.”

“You like?” I asked J-Hope, holding a thumbs up.

He nodded happily and gave me a thumbs-up.

“Wanna go?” I asked J-Hope, motioning to the beach.

“Yeah!” A bright smile came across his face. He turned to his members and spoke to them in Korean.

They all shook their heads and gave their excuses.

 Maya laughed at something V said. She must have noticed my face. “He’s afraid if he goes, some of the guys will eat his food.”

“One will eat,” Jin muttered as he eyed Rapmon.

Rapmon looked a bit embarrassed and ducked his head.

Suga pointed to the leader and said something in between laughter.

“Jinjja?!” Maya exclaimed. It was one of the few phrases I had picked up on.

Rapmon didn’t say a word but gave a small smile.

Maya met my gaze. “Apparently there’s a story about Rapmon eating people’s food. I’ll get the whole story and tell you later.”

Giving a nod, I turned towards the beach and motioned J-Hope. “Come on. Let’s enjoy the view.”

J-Hope understood and followed.

We reached a spot on the beach with no people around. Again, the weekday kept the crowd at a minimum.

For several minutes we communicated using simple words. It was fun and entertaining. But eventually, we got to a topic I wasn’t too happy to have.

“Scar? How?” J-Hope asked, motioning to my cheek.

Not many people asked about it; I imagined it was because they were afraid of my answer. I had always been aware of how intimidating I could come across, especially with the brutal scar on my face. Secretly, I preferred when people didn’t ask.

“I was a kid,” I muttered, looking away from him, hoping that was enough.

“Oh. Kid? Young?”

I nodded.

“Age?”

A sense of boiling began to linger in my skin, my stomach producing knots. “8.”

“How?”

I shook my head and looked away, not wanting him to see or sense my anger.

My past was something I never liked talking about. Other than the people that were present when my scar took place, not a single soul knew the origins of my mutilation. And I believed at the time that it would always be that way.

The pair of us didn’t say a word for a good while. We stayed sitting in silence for a good moment. For the first time, I was hoping one of our friends would come over and interrupt us.

I looked out towards our friends, all still too far away. I was getting ready to just get up and suggest we head to them instead of waiting.

But that’s when J-Hope finally decided to cut the silence. And he didn’t speak English. He was talking in Korean.

At first, I thought he hadn’t noticed what he was doing, but when I caught the look on his face, I suddenly understood what was happening.

While I had known J-Hope for less than 48 hours, his face usually radiated with happiness. He never went too long without showing off his pearly whites. This time, though, there was a frown on his face as he spoke passionately in his native tongue.

I recalled earlier in the day—his practice with his members. How exhausted he had looked. Maya mentioned how they had a very tight schedule with little to no free time. Their manager, Mr. Asshole, making demands of them. All the while, J-Hope had kept his cool. As I understood it, he was one of the older ones and a leader—it made sense why he was putting up a front that everything was ok. However, deep down I wondered if everything was ok.

As he passionately spoke with a frown on his face, I was certain that he was venting. I might not know Korean, but he needed to let it out. What better person to let out his frustrations than a person who wouldn’t know what he was saying?

For a few minutes, he spoke without taking too many breaths. Maybe for the umpteenth time, I wished I knew Korean and vowed to learn it as soon as possible. Finally, when it looked like he was satisfied, he took a breath. It took a long moment for the frown to leave his face.

Then, he turned to me pointed to my scar, and said, “You turn.”

I felt like I was going to break down at that moment. In the next several years, I often wondered if J-Hope had decided to vent first so I was able to do so. Was there something written on my face that day that he immediately picked up on? Was there something that told him I was going through a rough time and somehow it tied to my scar?

I’ve never truly known J-Hope’s need to have opened up to me that night but I was grateful. For the next few minutes, I explained how I got my scar. It felt liberating, honestly. Like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I caught myself about to cry a few times but I managed to hold it in.

Feeling I couldn’t continue speaking on the subject, I stopped. I knew if I went on, I would have had a meltdown. And this was not the place to do it. My friends would notice and ask. And I didn’t want them to ask. I was only telling J-Hope because he couldn’t understand me.

A long moment later, J-Hope placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled sweetly.

The urge to lean over and know how those lips tasted ran through my body.

Did he feel the same?

Before my dumbass could do anything idiotic, I heard my phone buzz. Snapping myself out of it, I reached for it and noticed Maya’s number.

“What’s up?”

“Food’s ready. Hurry. We’re starving,” Maya said from the other end.

I hung up and relayed the message to J-Hope.

He quickly got up and we headed back to the restaurant.

The nine of us enjoyed the meal together. While we ate, I noticed how some of the guys were extra playful and communicative with Maya. V was especially chatty with her, a light in his eyes as he looked at her and didn’t seem to stop smiling at her.

It didn’t seem like a crush but looked more like a wandering gaze a small sibling gave an older sibling they admired. Maya used to have a similar look in her eyes when she stared at her brothers when she was younger.

Once our bellies were full, we made our way to our vehicles again.

“Tracks?” J-Hope asked with a big smile, getting into the passenger seat.

I laughed and turned to Maya.

She nodded.

“Oh, yes,” J-Hope said excitedly.

It didn’t take long to arrive and we didn’t have much time to spend there. However, J-Hope made the best of it.

The moment we arrived, he didn’t hesitate to get behind my wheel and do numerous laps around the tracks. We all applauded his technique. He was quite good.

I kept cheering the loudest, clapping and calling out his name. Suga found it especially entertaining in the way I called out J-Hope’s name.

“J-Hoooooooooope,” he mimicked me, putting his first in the air.

Everyone burst out in laughter, most especially me.

************

I - II - III - IV

Masterlist

[axiro]

Void of Color || Genji Shimada

An alternate universe "what if" story of Genji Shimada.

Chapter Zero - Regard

This version of Genji is my own rendition made for a roleplay plot line of colliding alternate universes. His name is Junco per my AU. This is only focused on his story and the world he came from. * Junco - Named after the Dark-Eyed Junco Sparrow bird. In this story it's pronounced june-ko. * My Genji's theme song is Death of a Strawberry by Dance Gavin Dance and was the inspiration for this characterization.

AO3 || Chapter Masterlist

Background Music (optional)

"Junco?"

A light female voice calls to him. He doesn't reply.

"Junco."

His head rotates ever slightly towards her, an aversion to providing spoken acknowledgement. Shuffling is heard by his side. He's reclined in a rather uncomfortable metal chair, arms on the sides and head placed back against the open centered rest. A slight pop paired with a quick airy hiss is felt in the back of his skull. The connectors, from what he knows, are like some type of oversized component plugs. There is recollection of how they felt in his hand when they were first shown to him. The intrusion causes what feels like a small headache. He doubts he'll ever truly get used to that.

"Respond to me, please. I need to know you're conscious."

Translation; I need to know you're alive.

He simply gives her a small hum back. She sighs. He knows she's paused in her place, thinking about what to say to him. He's been here for a good several weeks now, so he's started to pick things up rather quickly. His hearing has always been good, yet now it's one of the only things he has left. The last few plugs are removed and there's a click, the chair rising to a normal sitting posture. She walks around behind, beginning to fidget with his bionic right arm. She said he'll be able to use it like normal once she connects everything accordingly. She also told him she will have his eyes done soon but they'll come after his legs. He'll be able to see again. But... he doesn't know he wants that right now.

He remains still at least another few hours before she walks away, adjusting her tools and setting up to transport him back to his designated spot in the hospital ward of this place.

Gibraltar.

That's what it's called.

Base for the organization known as Overwatch. He signed himself away to it given the promise that they'd save him, as long as he accepted becoming an agent. He didn't really think twice about it. There wasn't enough care to do so. He remembers one of the officers coming to talk to him. He introduced himself as Gabriel Reyes, who said he'd be in charge of him from that point on. That he'd get him back on his feet. Junco doesn't believe that but has no intention of backing out. From what he was told, this guy really fought to have him on his squad. Something about the head honcho here not liking it held things up a tad, he said.

He hears the woman walk back over. Her arms slip under his own and she gently slides him off the metal chair to a soft rolling bed. She's relatively small, he's noticed, yet she can lift him without much help needed for these daily transfers. Once situated, he uses his left arm to move about for some semblance of comfort. He goes still once more, just as he was in the operating room, his face turned away from the direction he knows the woman is. After he's set up with an IV and monitoring equipment, the doctor speaks up.

"I will be back in a little while. Do you need anything?" She asks.

Junco shakes his head lightly.

"Okay." She replies, softly.

Her footsteps depart the room, leaving him on his own.

This is his reality now. It was made sure of that this would be known. That he would never forget. From living days filled with harsh training and nights of escape, to becoming a stagnant pile of spare parts, limbs that only fill half of the fabric his clothing is made for.

After a while of silence, his left arm twitches hesitantly. Dragging his palm across the surface of the mattress, his hand slowly rises to his face. Fingertips graze his chin, following upwards until they meet the edge of the bandage over his face. He presses lightly against it, ghosting over where his eyes had been.

He utters a small, shaking inhale. An almost wheezing exhale follows. This repeats. And then again.

Curling forwards, his shaking hand plants itself at his side for support, fingers gripping at the sheets. He grits his teeth, fighting off the devastating urge to scream, a pained groan escaping in its place. Wetness begins to pool against the bandage, soaking into the absorbent material. The fear he felt that night begins to bud in his chest, causing air to catch in his throat halfway through his second cry. His mind isn't sure what to hang on to as the memory flashes. A sudden gleam of silver. An exclamation of anger. Frozen, he can do nothing but suffer through his erratic breaths, the heart rate monitor spiking, blaring his current state out to the world.

It's not long before he feels a hand on his arm. Gentle and calm, the same woman's voice can be heard through the veil. His name is spoken with reassuring words tailing it. She sits by his side, keeping contact with him until the episode fades. This takes several minutes that feel like hours.

She gets up, returning momentarily and lifting Junco's hand up to place a cup of water in his palm, encouraging him to drink. He just holds onto it. Her presence remains by his side until his mind becomes numb. He uncurls himself, lying back against the raised back rest of his bed. He takes a deep inhale, followed by one quiet, long release.

"Doctor Ziegler?" He asks.

"Yes, Junco?" She replies.

"Stay."

His tone is almost in the form of a question, yet it's more of a plead.

"Of course." Ziegler says.

[obxjj]

the way we heal | jj maybank

- pairings: jj maybank x reader

- summary: people deal with trauma in different ways but it seems that jj thinks you don't care about the loss of your friends and deep down himself but he just needs to understand that people heal in their own time and through their own meanings, he just needed to be reassured of it. kinda pre season 2 ep 1 give ot take

- warning(s): really motherfucking angsty and swearing. mention of substance abuse

- wc: 2.2k :))))

a/n: all my fics the pogues and reader are the age 17/18 only because that's more comfortable for me to write. its been a long long time since i have wrote something so sorry for and spelling errors

People tend to deal with trauma differently. It could be resulting to crying you eyes out until you can’t breath and you can’t see through your tears clouding your eyes. Drinking until your liver wants to shut down and you whole body is so numb that yourself and everyone around you is so tuned out that you can’t function. Resulting to drugs to either feel something or not to feel anything at all. Or to have something to blame your actions on from yourself acting out simply because you don’t know how to handle the situation of a friend dying.

See you on the other hand dealt with it internally or the whim and feeling of not accepting death. Maybe it was your subconscious talking wanting you not to accept or maybe it was the gut feeling that you always got telling you that they were actually alive and have survived that storm that ‘supposedly’ had swept them away because “no body was found”.

This ‘gut feeling’ had always been right in many life or death situations. Or even just you picking out an outfit that you were unsure of whether it was going to get the boys attention that you had a crush on. It did indeed get his attention that night because that’s how you ended up loosing your virginity that night but that’s besides the point.

The best way you could describe it was like when people would do personality tests and it would ask “are you controlled by your heart or what you feel” probably not those exact words but you get the point. I felt with my feelings if my gut said yes then it was a yes.

Since the night that John B and Sarah had ‘died’ your gut had been telling you the opposite. That they were in fact not dead. As Big John use to say when you were a kid, you can never kill a Routledge. At the time it seemed like bullshit but now it was starting to grow on you.

However now your two friends were presumed dead and not everyone dealt with trauma like you did. Some would even go as far to say that you didn’t actually give a fuck that your friends were dead because you hadn’t cried or you hadn’t drunk yourself into a state of no return or resulted to smoking weed every single day and spray painted ‘murder’ on Ward Cameron’s estate. But at least Kiara wasn’t lying.

But the thing was you hadn’t cried because you couldn’t, you quite literally hated crying because it made you feel weak. Even if you tried and you tried your hardest but nothing came. At this point you could go as far as denial. This gut feeling was like getting hit by a semi truck every time a thought came into your head questioning maybe they were dead. Maybe they did get swept away at sea and never to return.

Your gut feeling was simply not letting you mourn the loss of John B and Sarah and now everyone thought you were an emotionless bitch. I mean they were right to a point but not the whole point.

So that brought you to current day driving around the Cut and night playing fucking real life Where’s Wally but its Where’s JJ Maybank because he’s blacked out drunk somewhere and now you’re on a rescue mission. Not like you had done enough of those in the last few weeks.

About an hour ago your phone rang and it was JJ asking you to come pick him up since somehow he had now idea where he had ended up and was too far gone to put together his surroundings. Well that’s what you had assumed he said since you had to decipher his slurred words.

At this point you had driven around the whole island and gone to every hid out spot that he would go smoke at or to just get away from everyday life. You had gone to all but one place. Where you avoiding that particular house because it held so many memories, plus the fact you hadn’t been near the place since shit hit rock bottom. Yes? But it was the highest chance that JJ was sitting on that dock with his legs swinging over it with a beer in hand.

Well you were right. As you walked down the old dock to where JJ was sitting it was if you could feel all the emotions, thoughts and disbelief crawling their way up your skin from the ground you were walking on. But that gut feeling was like a wave of fire, burning it all the way back to the ground.

“I don’t know why I just didn’t look here first. I should have known aye” you half heartedly said trying to keep the conversation light since you didn’t know what state JJ was going to be in. From the huff you got in response told you he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

“How much have you had J?” You asked with concern but still trying to keep you voice light and less reprimanding because you knew he was in a too fragile state for you to be angry.

“Does it even matter how much Iv had. I don’t feel shit anymore” he replied back with his words straight forward and sobered.

“Well have you even given yourself a break for your body to sober up for you to even feel the effects of it? Or have you still been going since yesterday when I saw you? J its not going to do shit if you don’t give it a rest for at least a day or so” you said back trying you best to keep you and your voice as calm as possible. You fucking hated seeing JJ like this, you would never say it to his face but fuck it just reminded you of his dad when he got into states like this. Until the last week you had never seen JJ this bad. But could you blame him.

“You just don’t get it do you” JJ was now facing you and by the tone of his voice you had unintentionally struck a nerve that you were actively avoiding. “Why did you even fucking come if you’re just going to tell me how I should cope. Do you even care that JB has gone? He was our best fucking friend. He was my fucking brother my only family! And he’s fucking gone just like his old man. You haven’t even shed a tear y/n. You’re just acting like nothing had happened. Do you even care!” JJ was now on his feet breathing heavily and his jaw so clenched you’re surprised his teeth haven’t broken

“J, please do not yell at me right now” you asked with your voice shaking trying to hold back something that was bubbling at the surface. Was it anger or was it the water works that desperately needed to be let out.

JJ started to walk back up the dock, showing that he was done with this conversation that he could have avoided if he didn’t ask you in the first place to come pick him up. Deep down he knew that you would be the only one to come and get him, he just wasn’t as good at showing his gratefulness due to the alcohol that was numbing him.

“JJ just wait please, please don’t walk away” You stood back up and starting walking after him quick on the backs of his feet. He halted his tracks and turned around to look at you with a pained look in his face, as you got up close you could see his eyes stained red. Either from crying or the linger of weed still in his system.

“What could you possibly want to say y/n. I really thought you would be the last person not to care about this” JJ was now right up in your face and his voice was holding back trying his best not to yell. But that last sentence had taken you back.

“You think I don’t care JJ!” now you starting yelling “of course I give a shit JJ our friends are gone, they are not fucking here. I know it might not seem that I don’t care. But just because I’m not crying my eyes out every hour or drinking myself into a state where I don’t now where the fuck I am or getting high that I spray paint on any wall I see” your breath was now battling to come to the surface because you were talking so fast.

“Just because Im not doing any of those things doesn’t mean I don’t care JJ! People deal with this shit differently and you need to understand that” you breathed out trying to grasp for air again “the thing is JJ I have this annoying gut feeling thats telling me that John B and Sarah are not dead, and its literally preventing me to mourn them. I have convinced myself that they are alive and I can’t fucking mourn non dead people J. I don’t know how to fucking explain it”

“Well why didn’t you just tell us that” he replied after bit letting your whole rant sink into his brain, weaving its way through the alcohol that was clouding it.

“Because JJ! Even saying that out loud I sound fucking crazy, like I’m in a deep pit of denial. The thing is I’m far from denial. Yes I know there is a massive fucking fat chance that they are dead and have been food for the sharks” you exclaimed

“Don’t make it worse y/n” JJ shook his head not very happy with your choice of words

“Okay yeah sorry bad wording. Im sorry” you lowered your head in sorrow wanting to slap yourself in the face for trying to make jokes out of trauma.

“So its not that I don’t care J, trust me I do care. But John B and Sarah are not physically here with us and I cant physically care for them right now. But when we see them can do that”

“Y/n -“ JJ tried to get a word in but you hadn’t finished

“Don’t JJ. We will see them again” you put an emphasis on ‘will’ “I trust my gut and even you know that when I get a gut feeling that it’s always been right. Correct?”

“Yes but -“ he tried to get another word in but you needed him to listen.

“JJ I care about you. I care about Kiara and Pope. You guys are physically here for me to care for. The thing is I haven’t spoken to Kie since she’s with Pope half the time and I have spoken to Pope since he’s with Kid half the time and you? I can’t speak to you because your too far gone in beers to for me to even get a coherent conversation in” This was such an over due conversation to be had, you were now on the verge of hyperventilating. You needed JJ to hear this. Fully sober would have been better but half sober is the best you’re gonna get.

“JJ I understand if that’s how you’re going to deal with all of this but you can’t throw yourself completely away. We need you. I need you JJ. I can’t have you going off the deep end and then we loose you too. You need to be here for when we get John B back. He will need you for when he’s back”. The water works that you had been holding back had finally been released and trust it to be in front of JJ. He was your fucking rock, you couldn’t loose him. No way that would be your last day on earth if that were to happen.

“I-. Im sorry. I’m just so fucking lost y/n. I don’t know what the fuck to do. You’re always at work and Kie and Pope are god knows where. I just want this to go away so fucking bad. All this pain, I feel like I have no one” JJ was now crying to and gripping your waist as is you could float away into the air

“I know JJ, but you have us you have always had us. But you have to be so stubborn sometimes that you won’t let us in and help, you won’t let me in a help you” you had JJ’s face in your hands making him look at you so he knew you meant every single word. “I’m so sorry if you didn’t think I cared and I wasn’t there to help you, I just deal with this shit in a different way. Just like every single other person. We all heal differently and that’s okay. It dosent mean we care less. It doesn’t mean I care less”

Now there you and JJ stand on the dock leading off the chateau both in each others embrace purging the pain that’s both been locked up inside you for so long. The past you and JJ had people really didn’t tend to understand but neither did you. But you would always find your way back to each other at the end of the day. Despite the fights you had in the past and the days you would be at each others throats screaming at each other to the days you would be secretly stealing a glance at him because you just couldn’t help yourself.

You would always be there to help him take the pain away and he was always be there to do the same for you.

[bjornswoman]

Destruction IX

Author's note: Hey guys! I just started an event because I reached 500 followers. Thank you so much for that! It means a lot to me. Thank you so much for your support all this time I am in the app. Sorry about this part being so small, but there will come some more, not very much, that will be bigger. I hope you will like this part. Till the next time have fun and take care!

Pairing: Modern!Ivar x Reader.

Genre: Modern!au, series, drama, angst.

Summary: Mason tells the truth.

Warnings: Strong language, mentions of cheating.

Destruction | Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part X | Part XI

"The reason I am like this with Ivar is because of Freydis." Mason said quickly, before you could argue with him about telling him what you wanted.

When you heard him saying the words he said, you could feel your blood getting cold in your veins. It all made sense after the truth were spoken. Ivar had always been acting weird and odd when it came to Freydis. He was head over heels for her. You had suspected that she had some kind of connection with this matter, but after Mason's confession, you were sure. Freydis was the reason Ivar and Mason hated each other.

You blinked sometimes, trying to come back to reality. Mason was just staring at you all the time you were trying to match the dots of this mad story.

"H-how?" You asked, feeling dizzy.

"It's kind of embarrassing to admit that the cripple stole my girlfriend." He said and his hand moved at the back on his neck scratching the flesh of that part of his body. You didn't think about what he told you, but at the word cripple. Your jaw clenched, but you tried to remain calm. You hated when people called him that. This word was underestimating him. Ivar was made for great things, you knew it. His deformity made him stronger, not weaker. He cooperated with it, when other people, who called him this awful word, would never do.

When you got over the word, you thought about the other things he said. She cheated on Mason with Ivar. That was not surprising for her, she had done the same to Ivar. But it wasn't surprising for Ivar either, because he did the same to you. He chose Freydis over you. You weren't any kind better you did the same to Mason these two nights that you laid with Ivar.

"Did she cheat on you with Ivar?"

"Is it sound unlike her? Or him?"

"That's not what I am saying but it's kinda shocking. I mean I didn't expect it to happen."

"Neither I did expect the cripple to take my girlfriend away."

Cripple. This word again. You tried to forget about it and concentrate on the stuff he was saying and not at the names he was usung for Ivar.

"Wait. I know that Freydis cheated on Ivar as well. Did this thing between them when you and her were in relationship happen before or after she cheated on him?"

Mason's eyes narrowed at your question. You felt like he didn't have the answer to your question, or he didn't want to give it to you. Either wayyou just had to know, because if she cheated on him and then again was with him and cheated on Mason, this woman was unbelievable. Apparently, her hobby was to break people's hearts for no reason. She broke Mason's, yours and even Ivar's. Well, she didn't really break anything from Ivar. Because it can't be broken something that you don't have and Ivar had no heart. But even if he had, it would belong to her. Always Freydis.

"As Ubbe and Hvitserk had said me, she cheated on him with someone. I don't know who that guy was. Then, she was with me and cheated on me with Ivar. After that they broke up and I know that Ivar had a relationship with some girl a lot of years. They say he dumped her for Freydis. The poor girl. I pity her."

Of course he did pity you. Everyone was pitying you. You were pitying yourself for the man you had chosen. Unlike for you, you couldn't choose the man who you fell in love with. You wanted to love Mason, the noble, kind, sweet, funny, reliable guy. The prince charming of the fairytale, as Ivar had called him. Instead you chose wrong. The wicked king. The man who would never ever feel any kind of noble emotion for you. The man who hurt you twice.

"So he forgave her, right?" You asked, trying to sound like you weren't bothered and at the edge of crying your eyes out. You were trying hard to keep your tears from falling. Actually, you were trying to keep yourself from collapsing on the cold ground in front of Mason.

"He did, but don't you think that he is any kind better. That criple." He said. "I have to tell you something more." Mason continued as he was walking closer to you. He took your hands in his and pulled you closer. His eyes were glowing. You felt confused for a moment because you didn't have a clue what he wanted to tell you. Meanwhile, because of the truth he told you, you had forgotten everything about the stuff that you wanted to tell him. You felt betrayed by Ivar again somehow. "I know that we don't know each other for years, but I feel like I know you my whole life, (Y/N). I, also, know that you had an awful experience with your ex and it's not easy for you to open up to something new. It's kind of fast, but I think it the right time for it." One of his hands left your own hands and moved to your cheek. He caressed your skin softly. "I love you so much, (Y/N), and I have to ask you." The other hand of his slipped inside his jacket and took out of it a little red velvet box. It couldn't be what you thought it was. "(Y/N), do you wanna be my wife?" He asked you, as he opened the little box and let the diamond ring shine under the light of the moon.

You were open-mouthed. You weren't expecting this movement. It was fast, you didn't know each other so good and of course you felt even more awfully about your betrayal. You remembered exactly what was the thing you wanted to tell him. You were going to tell him that you wanted to break up with him, because you weren't in love with him and didn't want to hurt him anymore and he proposed to you. He did the thing that Ivar hadn't done for four years. Four wasted years that you remembered each day of them like it was yesterday. It all came over and over inside your mind.

"Um....." You didn't know what to answer. You felt even worse than before. In fact, after his proposal, you could state that you hated yourself for what you did.

"Hey, you can have all the time you need to answer to me. This is for a lifetime." He said and placed a quick kiss on your lips. Mason was all happy, when you were still in shock and guilt had taken over you. "So, what did you want to tell me?" He asked, but you couldn't form a word. It was like you had forgotten how to speak properly.

"Um, it can wait. It's - it's not as important as yours, I guess." You muttered, not looking at him, but at the ground.

"It's late and you need to get rest." He said, as he lifted your chin to look at your eyes. "Keep it and when you are ready tell me which your answer is. Goodnight." He continued and gave you the little velvet box, before he left.

You opened the box one more time and looked at the ring. Only if things were better, this ring would be on your finger and you wouldn't hesitate to say a big yes to Mason. This would only happen only if you met him first. But you didn't. You met Ivar first and fell madly in love with him.

What you did next was another stupidity for that night. Well, the night hadn't been over yet and you had chosen Ivar. You knew that bad things would follow your choice. Things that you didn't expect, like having mad sex with him on the back seats of his car, fighting after it with Ivar, proposal from Mason and after all that your hands reached your phone without your mind's permission and typed the number of his brother, hoping that he would be sober. Of course, Hvitserk was the only option you had. You felt kinda embarrassed to call Ubbe and ask him about Ivar after he saw your sneaking out of Ivar's room this morning.

"Are you high or drunk?" You asked him and he laughed. You were praying to the Gods for him to not be and help you.

"Not yet." He answered and you felt relieved by his words.

"I am looking for—"

"Ivar. I know, I know. He is at the bar drinking his guts out."

"Thank you, Hvitserk." You said quickly and hung up.

It felt like you wanted to give him another chance by telling him that Mason proposed and you hadn't answered. The fact that you were going there, to him, should be enough for him to understand. You wanted to believe that Ivar was the asshole Mason was talking about. Even, after he told you, you didn't want to believe him. You knew that Ivar wasn't that kind of person. First of all, Ivar had never ever forgiven somebody. He had something strong with that woman but she betrayed him. He wasn't with her anymore, so they didn't last. Not as long as you did. You were his longest relationship. With Freydis the first time it had lasted only a year.

Anyways, in your mind came for once more Mason's words about the reason he and Ivar hated each other and then you remembered all the times Ivar spoke about Mason. When he spoke about him it felt like Mason had the blame for what happened. But, still, you knew Ivar. Sometimes he was exaggerating.

You didn't know what you were thinking or expecting when you got inside the bar. Probably, you were expecting that when you would tell Ivar about Mason's proposal he would prevent you or something, but that was out of his character. You didn't know the reason you went there and you didn't know what you were going to tell him.

When you spotted him, he was drinking at the bar. He seemed angry, really angry.

"Ivar." You mumbled when you approached him and he turned around to look at you. You saw his expression changing when his blue met you. He became even angrier and you didn't know why. You hadn't done anything to him. He was the one who said all that things some moments ago.

"So you are getting married with that asshole." He said and downed all his drink. You frowned confused and looked at him with narrowed eyes. Mason had proposed but you hadn't answered yet.

"I did—"

"Congratulations (Y/N). Indeed, you choose the worst, as you had said yourself. First me and now him. Have a good life with him." He spoke and stood up from the stool to leave. You couldn't let him leave. You didn't know how he learned that Mason had proposed and that wasn't the problem at that moment.

"Mason told me the reason you hate each other." You spilled in an attempt to keep him here and not leave. Ivar stopped and turned around to face you.

"I didn't assume that he had the balls to do it."

"Why not? Because you stole his woman? Freydis?" You said and he became even more angrier than before. You saw an evil smirk growing on his face.

"Yeah, I was the one who stole Freydis." He scoffed and moved closer to you. He was so close that the whiskey he had consumed had already invaded in your nostrils. "If you believe that, then you deserve him." Ivar whispered and tries to leave again. This time you did let him. You grabbed his hand and kept him there.

"What is that supposed to mean?" You asked him, looking straight in his blue eyes.

"It means that you don't know me and, apparently, I don't know you too. You can't say that you will break up with Mason and the next moment you are engaged with him." He said and you felt confused again. He was the one who had told you that you were nothing more for him that sex. How could he make a scene for that now?

"Excuse me? If you remember, you are the one who told me that I am nothing more that someone who you had a couple of times sex with. Why do you care now about what I do?" You asked him kind of frustrated. This man was so confusing. You couldn't understand what he wanted. One moment he said that you were nothimg for him and the other he made a scene about you getting married.

"I don't care. I am just stating that you are two-faced." He said and you felt really angry and broken. How could he say that? It was really wromg to come here to him. You had to predict that he would say something like that and hurt you again. Only this time things were worse than the other. You felt even worse than before.

Before you could control your own hand, it felt violently on Ivar's cheek and he turned on the side because of the slap. You felt bad for slapping him, but he deserved it after what he said.

"I hate you." You told him and leave from the bar before he could reach you. When you were outside you let your tears fell from your eyes like waterfalls. You did the same mistake again. You had earned the title of the foolest woman in the world and you were going to do one more wrong choice tonight. The night had some times to end and this was really dangerous for you.

All this thing with Ivar was over for good after the scene in the bar. He had disrespected you and you slapped him. He had broken your heart once more. That was the only thing he could do. He could only hurt people. After tonight you were sure that he could only make people feel hurt and broken. He couldn't love anyone and couldn't accept the love people was giving to him.

Your hand reached your phone to do one more of your wrong choices for your life. How worse could it be all this? After all, you were already broken. You called Mason. The only thing you had left to do now was that.

"Hey, is everything alright?" He asked you upset. Obviously, you had woken up the man from his sleep.

"Everything is fine, Mason." You answered as you wiped the tears out of your face. "I just called you to tell you that my answer is yes."

Taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog, @ivarhoegh, @adrille88, @anotherfan07, @heavenly1927, @ivarcansteponmeanytime, @zvacu-te-pile-moje

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song ix.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, angst, soojung and oc’s mother being the best, minor food mention (not feeling hungry when stressed), hope, the tiniest bit of fluff, a cliffhanger of sorts!  words; 6,161 

Read Seokjin’s chapter ix here

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

Soojung found you curled up on the sofa a few hours later when she came home from work. You’d tried watching television, hoping the distraction would be successful but your mind just wouldn’t switch off, replaying the day’s earlier events. You didn’t want to think just yet but that’s all your mind could do. Going around and around in circles. Hearing Soojung’s keys in the door you felt a wave of nausea knowing you’d have to talk about it. Not that you didn’t want to confide in your best friend, it was just explaining everything meant that it was all real… 

She stuck her head around the door, sounding momentarily confused. “What are you doing back already? I wasn’t expecting you until la– Y/N?” She caught the look on your face immediately and just like she knew something was up. She rushed over. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Instantly you felt your face crumble, tears blurring your vision. “It’s stupid really,” you insisted, wiping your eyes as she came to join you, a protective arm wrapping around your shoulders. The small action at least made you feel a little better. “I don’t understand why I’m crying.” You hadn’t felt the need to cry until now. Maybe it was because you could always be vulnerable with your best friend. You didn’t need to be strong. She’d seen you at your worst. 

“Did…Did you guys argue?” She sounded unsure, confused as to what could be the issue. 

You sniffed, composing yourself. “No. Not really,” you let out a groan, “oh, god, Soo. It was awful. Seokjin’s ex-wife turned up…” 

You spent the next fifteen minutes telling her what happened, although a lot of it was a blur of raised voices and insults. One thing you knew for certain though, was that you’d never felt so awkward in your entire life. You’d watched your boyfriend arguing with his ex-wife feeling so incredibly out of the loop it was embarrassing. 

You’d never demanded to know every single detail about his marriage – you hadn’t even wanted to know. It wasn’t your business after all, nor did you want Seokjin to relive things he didn’t want to, or dwell on the past. You understood that more than anyone, what with your relationship with Donghae, but he’d openly revealed a lot to you. He’d confided in you, shared some hurtful details of his divorce and in turn you had entrusted him with your own past, your own bad memories… 

There had been many surprises this afternoon, but one certain revelation kept replaying in your head. It was all you could think about. To learn he’d left out something as major as getting cheated on… Having to find out like that… You were still reeling from the bombshell. Why hadn’t he told you? You’d both been through the same thing… Didn’t he trust you enough? You didn’t understand and you couldn’t stop yourself from feeling hurt. 

“You don’t think he’s still in love with her, do you?” Soojung asked hesitantly. 

“No,” you shook your head. Regardless of the mess that were your thoughts right now, you didn’t think that at all. Yes, it was easy to let your doubts take over in the first few moments you’d set eyes on Nana, she was beautiful, although you hadn’t expected anything less, but you knew not to feel paranoid when it came to that. Regardless of today’s shock, you didn’t doubt Seokjin’s feelings for you, and you knew very well he no longer loved his ex-wife. 

“I think he’s just very bitter about everything,” you continued. “Mostly about how infrequently she sees Arin.” 

“Do you think it’s a problem?” 

Shrugging slightly, you didn’t really know what to say. “She’s been seeing her quite often lately. There was last weekend, but it shouldn’t have been that much of an issue.” Seokjin hadn’t been angry over that, or at least he hadn’t let on he was… Maybe he had and had just hid it well. With that thought, you remembered something. “It was just her face… while Seokjin was saying all those things to her. She looked so upset… I’ve never seen him like that.” 

It had been jarring seeing him so angry. He was usually soft-spoken and well-mannered. Even when he was irritated he stayed silent. You understood that he was only human, everyone had emotions, and his had bubbled over today, but it was still surprising. You hadn’t been expecting to be in the middle of a shouting match between him and his ex-wife. 

“But you knew they didn’t get on?” Soojung gently prodded, rubbing your upper back. 

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “Just seeing it in person… I can’t believe he didn’t tell her about us.” 

Your mind was all over the place, unable to concentrate on one issue for long enough. You really had been living in your own little world this entire time. So incredibly happy and blissfully content. It had been so easy to forget that Nana existed when it came to your relationship with Seokjin. To you, she was just Arin’s mom, who she spoke about sometimes, but not very often, in your presence. It was easy to put her to the back of your mind, it was easy not to think of her at all. Why would you? You didn’t even know what she looked like until today. All the photos you’d seen of a younger Seokjin, of Arin as a baby, had never once included her. You knew who she was, knew her name, but that was all. 

So you’d just assumed she knew about you too. You’d assumed Seokjin had told her without needing any confirmation. You’d assumed she’d known that you would be looking after Arin last weekend. You’d assumed she was perfectly fine with it. In reality she had no clue you existed. You were almost certain Seokjin hadn’t done it maliciously, he wasn’t that type of man, but seeing him today, how casually he had brushed off her concerns… As much as it had hurt to be thought of as a stranger, you understood why that was the case. Seokjin hadn’t. As stubborn as always, he refused to see where he had done wrong. 

“That is a bit odd,” Soojung agreed. “And even though she was a bitch to you, I guess I’d be pissed too if I found out the way she had.” 

You snorted softly. Soojung had been ready to fight when she’d first heard the things Nana had said to you, but she knew you were fine, you could handle yourself. “Ugh, it’s all such a mess,” you groaned. “I would’ve never looked after Arin last weekend if I’d known Nana had no clue.” You should have made sure. Why hadn’t you?

“I guess Seokjin had his reasons,” Soo reasoned. “Maybe he knew how his ex would react.” 

“Maybe,” you agreed before sighing. “I don’t know. There’s things he never told me either.” Maybe you were finding out that Seokjin was a very secretive person, who knew… “She cheated on him, Soo.” You were back there again. Soojung hummed in understanding. “Is it silly of me to be upset?” 

“No, it’s valid.” 

“I told him about Donghae,” you whispered. “I really opened up to him and he was so sweet and understanding. Why didn’t he tell me he’d been through the same thing?” No matter how many times you went through it in your head you couldn’t think of an answer. It didn’t make sense. Especially because he’d opened up to you so easily in regard to everything else. What made this so different?

“Maybe he just didn’t want to make it about him,” Soojung offered. 

“I don’t know… Maybe.” You groaned, thinking you were being selfish. He probably had a good reason when he didn’t tell you. There were more pressing issues right now anyway… You knew that, and immediately your head begin to spin again. 

“The whole stepmom thing,” you muttered, “it’s left me a little frazzled.” 

Soojung kept up with your disorderly thoughts expertly. “In what way?” 

You gave a little shrug, voice barely there because you didn’t want to admit it out loud. “It made me question things…”

“I thought you liked where things were heading?” Your best friend couldn’t hide the shock from her voice. 

“I do,” you replied, “or at least, I did.” Where were things actually heading? You didn’t know anymore. “I just wasn’t really thinking.”

“Of what it all meant?” 

You nodded slowly. “I lost myself for a while.” 

In a way, you had been in your own little bubble for these past few months – you, Seokjin and Arin. You’d had the most amazing summer, falling harder and harder for Seokjin and in the process Arin had captured your whole heart. She was such a sweet little girl, humorous and thoughtful, Seokjin and Nana had brought her up well. Your time together had been incomparable, your happiness unmatched, but in the process you’d ignored a few things. 

“So what are you saying?” Soojung asked gently. 

Your throat felt dry. “I’m afraid it’s all moving too fast.” 

It was a lot to take in. You had been together barely four months but here you were thinking about the word stepmom. How scary the word sounded, how scary it felt…

“You want to slow it down?”

“It’s probably too late for that,” you chuckled quietly. You felt your heart squeeze. “Soojung, I think I’m in love with him.” 

It felt almost relieving to confess such a thing, despite your heavy heart over today. Your feelings had been harder and harder to ignore these past couple of weeks, but you’d tried your best, not wanting to rush anything. Right now you were confused and hurt, but one thing was blatantly clear. You loved him. 

“It’s scary,” you whispered, feeling Soo rub your back again, listening silently. “Falling so fast.” Especially after everything you’d been through with Donghae. You were scared. Despite opening up your heart to Seokjin easily, this was different. Things seemed so complicated now, when not six hours ago they had been nothing more than simple. 

“Today was a massive reality check,” you scoffed. “I’ve been spending these past few months playing house with Seokjin and Arin, it was bound to catch up with us sometime.” 

“You liked it though,” your best friend encouraged, voice gentle. “I’ve never seen you so happy… Not since… Well, not even then.” 

“Everything just felt so… perfect,” you agreed. Everything had slotted into place easily. “And natural, and just, nice.” For lack of a better word. Your brain was pulp. 

“Arin obviously felt comfortable enough to call you her stepmom in front of her own mom?” You didn’t even notice Soojung’s change of direction. 

“I don’t know, I think she was just confused. You know what kids are like together. She heard her friend talking about it and they probably got excited.”

“Would you like to be her stepmom?”

You paused then, realising what had just happened. She knew you well, knew what was bothering you, conflicting your mind. You gave her a small smile. “She’s a sweet child, but it’s not that simple right now. It’s not only my decision either.” 

Truthfully you hadn’t thought about it before today, but now it was one of the things at the forefront of your mind. If everything worked out okay then you and Seokjin would only grow more serious. From strength to strength and what did that mean? However, now you knew that Nana wasn’t exactly your biggest fan… You felt fresh frustration, deflated yet again. Today had gone terrible. 

“You’re right,” Soojung agreed, “but it’s something you need to be comfortable with too.” 

That was true. These were things you needed to talk about with Seokjin. Then again, maybe you should’ve talked about them before. You had no clue how he felt regarding the topic, well… not explicitly anyway. 

“Seokjin comparing the both of us made me feel horrendous.” You found yourself admitting. “I’m not trying to be Arin’s mother. I wasn’t even trying to be her stepmother. Not yet. I haven’t thought about it until now. I just… I loved being a part of her life in my own little way.” 

You never wanted to replace Nana. You hated thinking like this, but what if Seokjin had been looking for that the whole time? A new mother for his daughter… You were almost positive that wasn’t the case, but you were so drained right now, your mind was all over the place. You kept replaying in your head what he had shouted at Nana over and over again. 

“He can’t expect you to take on that role, not when she already has a mother,” Soojung said carefully. “But you can be there for Arin in other ways – in similar ways. You’ve been teaching and caring for kids for years, so I hope you’re not undermining your capabilities.” 

You smiled then, grateful, leaning on her shoulder. “Thank you.” You definitely weren’t doing that but being a teacher and a mother were two totally different things. Especially when it wasn’t your biological child. 

“Ugh, I’m just exhausted,” you groaned, laying back against the sofa and shutting your eyes. “My head’s a mess.” You didn’t want to talk about it any longer, switching off sounded really good right now and Soojung understood that perfectly. 

She tapped your arm. “I’m going to cancel my plans with Tae.” You opened your eyes, mouth open ready to fight. “He’ll be fine.” She insisted. “Me and you are gonna get takeout and ice cream and just stop thinking. We’re going to pull the One Tree Hill boxset out and pretend we’re still in high school.” 

You weren’t going to lie, that did sound like fun. It was also foolproof. You’d been doing it since you were seventeen, when Soojung had got dumped for the first time. “Great idea.” 

She leaned in for a hug. “You told him you need space to think, so that’s what you’re going to do. But not tonight. No rush.” 

As she pulled back you took her hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I love you.” 

“And I love you,” she grinned. “Now, let me grab my phone.”  

You woke up early the next morning, like really early, 5am, which wasn’t ideal seeing as you’d struggled to get to sleep the night before. Your mind and heart felt heavy, but you forced yourself to get up and shower because there was no point trying to fall back to sleep for an hour. You had school, and that meant you had to try your best to look presentable for the kids – and happy. A bunch of 6-7 year olds were scarily talented at reading an adult’s mood you’d come to find out. 

You didn’t eat much of your breakfast, which wasn’t a surprise because when you were stressed or sad you never felt practically hungry anyway, and left for work long before Soojung even had a chance to wake up, thinking your classroom so early in the morning might give you some sense of clarity. Either that or stop the buzzing of your thoughts that couldn’t seem to keep away. The change of scenery would hopefully do you some good.   

You were at your desk trying to organise your planner for the week ahead, 7:04am, when your cell phone began buzzing. You looked across at the device, face up a few inches away from you and felt your stomach squeeze. Filling the screen was a picture of Seokjin and you at an amusement park he’d dragged you to over the summer, like the big kid he was at heart. Seeing his smiley face made your heart hurt. You thought about leaving it ring, you could pretend you were busy and let him leave a message, but no matter how much you wanted to do it, you couldn’t. 

The phone felt heavy in your hand as you picked up. Your voice didn’t sound like yours. “Hello.” 

“Y/N,” he breathed, sounding somewhat relieved. You had taken a while to make your decision. “Are you free to talk?”

He sounded tired and unlike his usual self, and a part of you wanted to rush over and talk to him in person, to check in on him and see how he was doing, because as much as yesterday hadn’t been nice for you, it hadn’t been too great for him either… However, you knew that was a bad idea, you’d said you had needed time. A few hours wasn’t that. 

“Um, yeah,” you replied, opening your mouth again to remind him about what you’d said yesterday, but already he was rushing forward, eager to say his piece. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call last night, I guess… I guess I needed time too.” He sounded hesitant, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had never been expected (nor wanting) a phone call. “Do you want to meet up for lunch?”

Your voice was gentle. “I don’t think that’s a good idea today.” Maybe he’d misunderstood you, you needed longer, besides, things weren’t going to get sorted out in under an hour during your lunch break from work. It wasn’t as simple as that – you wished it was. 

There was a pause his side, then – “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Seokjin, I’m not mad,” you sighed softly. “I’m just…” What were you? Frustrated more than anything. It was hard to explain. In a way you felt sorry for him, but you also felt sorry for Nana. “I have a lot of questions that I don’t think I’m ready to ask just yet.” 

His voice was careful as he asked you, “When do you think you will be ready?”

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. “I need time to think and it’s pretty hard when I have work all week.” Neglecting your job was foolish – impossible to think of, actually. 

“I understand.” Of course he did. He was nothing but understanding when it came to you and your relationship together. That’s the Seokjin you knew and adored… the one you loved… 

“Is Arin okay?” You found yourself asking. You knew you should probably say your goodbyes, but you’d woken up feeling terribly guilty that you’d just upped and left her like that yesterday. “I’m sorry I ran off without saying goodbye to her.” 

“She’s doing okay, I tried telling…” He trailed off suddenly, and you guessed he thought he was overstepping the mark. The mark you’d put in place. “She asked where you went, I said something came up.” 

“Oh.” You’d thought about popping your head around the door and saying goodbye yesterday but just couldn’t do it. You hated to think she’d thought you had left her too. “I really am sorry about that.”  

“Y/N, it’s fine. Please never be sorry,” he murmured softly. 

You smiled sadly at his sentiment. “Are you okay?” You shouldn’t really ask, not when you needed to hang up and take that space you both needed, but you couldn’t help yourself. It felt wrong not to check in. 

“Could be better,” he chuckled slightly. You appreciated his honesty. “You?” 

“The same.” There was no point pretending. “I think some space will do us good. Let’s just think about everything and then we can talk.” 

“Okay,” he agreed simply. There wasn’t much else he could say. If he disagreed in any way you knew he would never tell you. He wanted to respect your wishes. 

“I’ll call you towards the end of the week?” You could get through the work week, have some time to yourself in the evenings and then meet up on Saturday. 

“Yeah, that sounds good. I agree.” Yet, he sounded a little dejected. 

“Okay.” You had to leave it at that. “I gotta go,” you told him, even though you were in no rush to leave for work, already in your classroom. 

“Of course, bye, Y/N.” You heard some background noise and then a familiar voice in the background – Misook. As it was for you, life went on. Arin had to get ready for school, he had to get ready for work… You couldn’t both wallow in self-pity all day. “Take care,” he told you. It sounded awkward, as if he didn’t know what to say. 

“Bye, Seokjin.” You felt just the same. Even right at the beginning your phone conversations had never been this wooden. 

You hung up first, and then there was silence, except for the ticking of the clock on the wall opposite. You watched the red second hand move, feeling as if it was mocking you.

The week was slow. It was an average one, but it dragged by. On Monday you had to sit through the usual chitchat inside the teacher’s lounge during lunch, catching up on everyone’s weekends. When Eunbi asked how yours had gone you’d breezed past it, expertly changing the subject to her weekend visiting Jungkook’s parents. Other than that, there was really no need for Seokjin to come up in conversation, which you were thankful for. You spent the rest of the week busy with the children, staying behind a lot later than usual just because it was easier inside your classroom. 

At home you found yourself missing Seokjin like crazy. Ever since your first date you’d been in regular contact throughout the week, and then when things had gotten serious, you’d spoken to him every day – even if it was just on the phone in the evenings once school started back. For all contact to be gone was strange. You hated it, felt as if a part of you was missing. But you knew it needed to be done. As the days went (dragged) by you no longer felt overwhelmed by Sunday’s events. The shock had worn off and you had time to dissect it all, whether it be over dinner on your own when Soo was working late, or when you were in bed for the night, waiting to drop off. The more you broke it down the easier it was to place things in different categories. All the things that had shocked you, the things that had hurt you, and then finally, the things that had made you feel guilty. 

On Thursday night you promised your mom you’d have dinner with her. Jonathon was abroad visiting his children and she hadn’t been able to get time off work to join him. She was bored at home all alone, so you really couldn’t say no despite a part of you wanting to. Before you arrived you’d made the decision not to tell her about your…what could you call it? It was hardly an argument with Seokjin. A disagreement..? Whatever it was, you didn’t want to worry her. After all this time she was over the moon you’d finally met someone you really cared about and you knew it was stupid, but you didn’t want to make her worry.  

However, that all went out the window as soon as she opened the door to you. She was your mom for crying out loud, who could you confide in if it wasn’t her? She listened to you attentively. All your thoughts, all your worries – even if the potatoes were at risk of cremating, and it felt good to have your mother by your side. 

“Seokjin is a lovely man, anyone can see that, but he’s allowed his flaws. He’s only human,” she reasoned, your conversation coming back to the way he’d acted around Nana. You knew your mother was right, and you were in no way judging him for it, but it had been very jarring seeing him change so suddenly. “Obviously he and his ex-wife bring out the worst in each other. Sounds to me as if they’re so used to hurting one another it’s become the norm.” 

You nodded in silent agreement, thinking back to them hurling abuse at one another as if it was the most natural thing. In a way it had turned into a competition. Who could hurt one other the most. In the end, Seokjin had dealt the final blow. You. You could still see the hurt on Nana’s face now, even though it was days ago. It made your chest heavy all over again. You told your mom just as much. 

“There’s no need to feel so guilty, love,” she told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “None of this is your fault. Seokjin, whether it was intentionally or unintentionally, used you as a way to hurt Nana, and you need to tell him that you’re not okay with that.” 

That was the part that had hurt the most now that you’d had enough time to think. Above all else, not telling Nana about you, the catalyst that led to his divorce, it was being used as some kind of weapon that stuck out. You had never wanted that. You had never asked for it. 

“You are his girlfriend first and foremost.” Your mom continued. “Yes, you care for Arin but these things need to be spoken about first. You have never wanted to be, nor felt like you were the child’s mother. You know your boundaries and so should he.” 

She was correct. You’d been so hesitant not to overstep the mark these past few months. You’d even been in two minds whether or not to offer to babysit Arin that weekend. You’d thought Seokjin understood that, your cautiousness when it came to the role you played in her life. After all, your relationship was still new, and Nana was very much a part of Arin’s life. However he had disregarded that all to throw a few cheap shots. 

Your conversation shifted to Arin then. It was easy to sympathise with her, after all you’d been in her shoes once. Parents who seemed to fight more than they did talk. It had gotten better for you though, their relationship turning amiable once the divorce had settled. For Arin, it seemed to be only getting worse. You wished you could talk some sense into Seokjin. He might’ve thought that Arin was okay with her parents barely having any contact but you knew that wasn’t the case. It had been very telling to hear that Arin never brought Seokjin up in conversation with her own mother. That’s why it had taken Nana so long to find out about you. Deep down that little girl knew that her mom didn’t want to hear her dad’s name, and that was heart breaking. 

Somewhere along the way, your mom asked you what you thought about Arin calling you her stepmother. Despite it being done innocently, the weight of the word meant so much more to the adults in the situation and you agreed. It had been strange to hear, and not just because it had come from Nana’s mouth. You were serious about Seokjin and could see a future with him, and that meant being in Arin’s life permanently. That word wasn’t so farfetched and you’d had plenty of time to think about it this week. What it meant for you, Arin, and of course Nana. 

“How did you feel when dad first met Dahae?” You asked your mom. These things had never really come up in conversation before, which was surprising, but right now you needed any advice and insight you could get. Your mom had been in Nana’s shoes once after all. All those years ago. 

“I was…happy for him,” she replied hesitantly. “It took time. It’s a confusing thing. I no longer loved your father but it felt strange to see him with someone else. Of course, everyone is different. Not one relationship is the same,” she added. 

You nodded in understanding. Your father had met Dahae, his wife, when you were twelve. You had grown up with her and it didn’t feel odd to think of her as a second mom. You still called her by her name but when in conversation with others you often referred to her as your stepmom. Always had, for as long as you could remember. Maybe it was after the wedding, but you couldn’t be too sure. Definitely before she gave birth to your siblings though. 

It was different with Jonathon. He’d always been “your mother’s husband” and not because you didn’t care for him or think he was a lovely man. He was, and you liked him very much, it was just… You were an adult when you met him, twenty to be exact, living across the country for college. The bond wasn’t quite there like it was with Dahae, but your mom understood that – so did Jonathon. But it made you pause and think. You’d never asked your mom how she felt hearing you call Dahae your stepmother. It had never crossed your mind until now. 

“I didn’t like the idea at first, I have to admit, but who would?” She confessed. “It’s hard not to feel hurt or threatened, a whole load of different emotions,” she gave a small shrug, “but meeting Dahae, and seeing how kind a woman she was, and how much you meant to her made me see things differently.” 

You smiled, silently hoping that one Nana would think and feel the same way when it came to you. You could only cross your fingers and try your best in the meantime. 

Your mom nudged you, a playful lilt to her voice. “I think you’re very lucky to have two wonderful women in your life that love you and want the best for you – and yes, that’s a brag on my part.” 

You laughed with her, but your worries were getting the best of you again, turning you sombre. “What if Nana never accepts me though?” 

“I think you should only think about that if it happens,” she replied. “There’s no point expecting the worst right now.” 

You still didn’t feel very hopeful though, it was probably written all over your face. Sweeping some hair out of your eyes, your mother’s voice was soft. “Love, she had no idea you existed, I think her anger was warranted.” A pause, tone changing. “Although, not at you. I’m not very happy about that.” 

You chuckled at that. “It’s fine. You know I can look after myself.” You were feisty when you wanted to be, or scrappy as Seokjin had so comically put it once. 

Wrapping an arm around you once more, she squeezed you gently. “Talk to him.” She urged. “You miss him. This time apart is getting pointless, you already know how you feel.” 

You did. Your feelings were as strong as ever. 

You had been itching to pick up the phone last night and just call him already, but you’d said Saturday. You only had one day left at work, you could hold out until then. It would be better that way, you didn’t want to interrupt a potentially busy day. Friday’s were often crazy for him, you didn’t want to be a distraction. 

However, come morning break you bumped into Hoseok coming out of your classroom, eager to rush to your car and grab the apple that must have rolled out of your bag and onto the seat. (Hopefully – if it was on the floor it was going in the trash ASAP). 

“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He politely asked. 

“Fine, thank you.” Talking with Hoseok always came easily, regardless of his position as the principal. “Glad it’s the weekend tomorrow. How about you?” 

“My thoughts exactly,” he laughed, before adding, “Although, I hear Arin’s started hers early.” 

“Oh?” You were immediately lost. Had you missed something? You hadn’t seen Arin at school all week, which wasn’t strange. Your paths rarely crossed these days unless you were on yard duty, and if you were being honest, you were glad it hadn’t been this week. She must have had an inkling something was wrong right now, she hadn’t seen you at all since Sunday, so you were relieved to know you didn’t have to answer any awkward questions. It was selfish, you knew that, but you couldn’t help it. 

Hoseok looked confused by your reaction, but carried on regardless, shaking it off. “Seokjin called up yesterday, said she’d be visiting her mom earlier this weekend if it was possible. I figured maybe you and he had plans for tonight.” 

You froze, forcing yourself to reply because your boss was waiting for one. “Oh, no.” You swallowed, coming up blank. “No plans.” 

If Hoseok noticed your woodenness he didn’t let on. “One day couldn’t possibly hurt her education, right? But don’t tell the board I said that,” he added with a laugh. 

You made yourself join in, although your mind was racing. “Secret’s safe with me.” 

He smiled at you, giving you a nod. “Enjoy your weekend, alright? See you Monday.” 

Thank God he had somewhere to be. You nodded back, watching him already begin to walk away. “And you, Hoseok.” 

You proceeded to sit in your car for twenty minutes, half eaten apple already turning brown as you racked your brain. It wasn’t Nana’s weekend to have Arin. Was something wrong? You were probably being silly, conjuring up the worst case scenarios for no reason. If something had happened, Seokjin would have contacted you. He knew he could always count on you, but… You had told him you needed space and he’d agreed. He was a man of his word, so if something had happened, what if he thought he couldn’t call you?

You pulled your phone out of your bag at the thought, clicking on his contact but stopped yourself when you saw the time. You had just under five minutes to be back at class… I’m being irrational, you told yourself. If something was wrong he would have informed Hoseok, and the principal sounded absolutely fine. You were worrying for no reason. If something had happened, something bad, he wouldn’t hesitate to reach out to you. You knew that, and so did he. Only a few more hours and you’d get to talk to him. Most of those involved sleep. You could wait until tomorrow morning. You could. 

.

.

You couldn’t. 

It was half 9 and you were home alone. It was Soojung and Taehyung’s date night and she was spending the night at his place, so all you had for company were your own thoughts – and RJ, the alpaca plush Seokjin had won for all those months previous. You couldn’t possibly wait until tomorrow, your mom was right, what was the point in waiting when you knew how you felt. You wanted to see Seokjin, to talk to him and feel him. You missed him like crazy. 

Turning the television down low you grabbed for your phone which had slipped in between the sofa cushions. This time you didn’t hesitate, no work commitments calling your name, and dialled Seokjin’s number straight away. He picked up after only two rings. 

 “Y/N,” he breathed, sounding more than surprised. 

“Hey, you,” you smiled into the receiver. It felt good to hear his voice again. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to call tonight.” 

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” 

“Of course not. Well,” he paused to laugh, “I was just about to head to bed.” 

He sounded a lot like his usual self tonight, it eased your mind. You laughed along softly, a confession slipping past your lips. “I was going to wait until tomorrow but Soojung is with Taehyung tonight and being alone means I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You heard a sigh of relief his end. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week.” The longing in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “Are you ready to talk? I’m willing to answer any questions you have.” 

“I’m ready,” you nodded. “Should I come over? I don’t want to do this over the phone.” 

“I can come to you?” He suggested instead. “Arin’s with Nana until Sunday.” 

“Oh.” You thought to ask him how come, but stopped yourself, you could get to that in person. He didn’t sound upset, which you took as a good sign. “Okay. Now?” 

“It’s not too late?” He checked. 

“No, it’s fine.” You were eager, shaking you head as you replied, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “I really want to see you.” 

You could hear his smile too. “I’ll be there soon, okay? Really soon.” You heard his footsteps along the floor, the sound of a drawer opening as if he was finding something to wear. 

“Don’t speed,” you added, as a joke more than anything. 

“Of course I won’t,” he laughed. “I’m going to hang up now but I won’t be long.” 

“Okay, see you soon, Seokjin.” It was silly, but you didn’t want the phone call to end even though in under half an hour he’d be here. 

But you could be patient. 

You could. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[2jaeh]

INSUFFERABLE l  KIM DOYOUNG 

GENRE: mature theme, slight smut

WARNINGS: choking, dom themes, cursing

asshole! Doyoung , enemies to ???

Words : 4k 

You’re put in a group project with the most annoying pretentious jerk your law class had to offer. Immediately Doyoung tries to boss you around but you being you, you weren’t taking his shit...soon enough he finds out he can dominate you after all...in a very different way. 

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

“Theres no fucking way...no fucking way” you groaned looking at your group project list, eyes narrowing on possibly the worst people within your course year. Slumping in your seat you half smiled at the girl who approached you, one of your fellow members from project hell. 

“Heyyy y/n I think we're in a group together” she grinned and took a seat next to you, flipping her red hair over her shoulder and checked herself out in her mirror covered cellphone. 

Dami was probably the most narcissistic person you'd ever met and being in law, it was definitely a common trait around here. Dami sat up and began tapping you on your shoulder frantically “He’s in our group! Kim Doyoung is in our group” the two of you watched as the dark haired man conversed with the lecturer, casually turning back to look at the table where you guys sat, in annoyance. 

“That guy is such a prick” a guy who slid in the desk behind you, Seungmin said and Dami nodded in agreeance as you all continued to watch him. 

“Ive never really spoken to him before” you cocked your head, “What’s so annoying about him?” 

This time another group member joined in, a quieter girl who normally sat in the back Jisoo, cleared her throat, “He is really bossy and only likes to do things his own way.”

‘Well he is about to meet his worst nightmare’ you thought knowing nothing pissed you off more than someone telling you what to do. 

The muffled conversations around you began to soften as you felt someone stand over you and drop a file on your desk. Looking up, you locked eyes with the one and only Kim Doyoung, dressed in his usual black slacks, black turtleneck and clear rimmed spectacles. He raised his eyebrow at you as if you were supposed to guess what he wanted.

“What ?” you challenged him, folding your arms across your chest and returned an eyebrow raise. 

Doyoung sighed in annoyance, his long slender fingers moved across the file and opened it swiftly, “I want you to do roll call” he said coldly. 

A lump formed in your throat. You felt like you were being talked down to, it was something that infuriated the hell out of you. He wasn't older than you, nor was he getting better grades than you but somehow he had a superiority complex. Dami quickly nudged you and you rolled your eyes, “Seungmin ?”

“Here!” 

“Jisoo ?” you placed a tick as you called out each name. 

“Dami, Jangjun…?” you looked around and noticed that the usually loud comedic relief in your classroom was nowhere to be seen. 

“I think Jangjun is late, i’ll text him” Seungmin sighed and pulled out his phone. You turned back to the roll call sheet and pursed your lips, “Kim Doyoung ?” 

Doyoung just looked down at you, sucking in his bottom lip and raised that damn eyebrow at you again. 

“You need to say ‘here’ do you not know how roll call works ?” you tested him and he rolled his eyes and sighed, “here.” 

You smiled to yourself, completely satisfied with pissing him off when your internal celebration was interrupted by an out of breath Jangjun, who threw his bag on the floor and took a seat on Dami’s desk. Doyoung looked at him disgustingly, and even though you too were obviously annoyed by Jangjun’s tardiness, was that reaction really necessary ?

“Be on time” Doyoung sneered and grabbed the roll call file making his way back to the lecturer. 

“Fuck Kim Doyoung is in this group ?” Jangjun groaned, sharing the sentiments of the entire meeting. You couldnt believe these were the people you had to work with for the week. It's like you could almost feel an outburst waiting to happen, whether it be from you or Kim Doyoung. 

Doyoung returned and took out his phone, not really looking at any of you as he spoke, “we should make a group chat to update each other on work”

The group hastily shared each other's details and Doyoung created the chat and pinned a set of three rules. 

The first was the group was strictly to be used for the project, no small talk or any other messages that weren't related to the project. The second rule was that no one talks about the group content in private chats as it will cause confusion among members. Lastly you weren't allowed to message after 9pm unless it was an emergency, a very serious emergency. 

“Dang is this the military ?” Jangjun snickered as Seungmin and Dami tried their best to hide their laughs. It was typical of people like Dami and Jangjun to not take anything seriously. Their families were well off and they were just studying just for a piece of paper you call a degree. Doyoung couldn't even hide his annoyance, not like he ever did but he seemed particularly pissed off today. 

“Look, just follow the rules and all of you get a free pass and then we never have to speak to each other again” Doyoung spat and made his way to the exit leaving the rest of you in utter shock. 

———

The first two days were utter hell as Doyoung tried to take control of almost every aspect of the project and frankly you didn't even mind because his business proposal was flawless, it was just the way he spoke to all of you that drove you insane. 

“Dami its not fucking rocket science all you need to do is make a clientele spreadsheet with the mock list the professor gave us” Doyoung didnt even lift his head from his laptop, unaware of the impact his words had on her. 

Dami pushed away from the desk and her eyes began to well up and before you knew it she was running out of the library, with Jisoo and Seungmin following quickly out of concern. 

“Nice move asshole” you rolled your eyes, continuing to work on your laptop. 

Doyoung peered up and pushed his spectacles up, “what was that?” 

“I said nice move asshole, do you intend to talk to your future clients like that?” He initiated a different kind of anger from you but you managed to keep your cool. Doyoung shrugged as if what he had said to Dami had not carried any weight and continued typing away. 

A few minutes of the members disappearance quickly turned to an hour and Doyoung’s nonchalance about the whole ordeal really ticked you off to the point of slamming your laptop closed and pushed back from the desk. 

Doyoung quirked his eyebrow at you, “Is something wrong ?” 

“Is something wrong” you mimicked him, “Jangjun hasn't come in today because you sent him on multiple errands, and you just made Dami cry over something so ridiculous”

Doyoung sat back in his seat and rubbed his temples, “They're all freeloaders, you and I are the only ones doing work, why do you care so much about them?” 

“Basic human fucking decency maybe?” you groaned and ran your fingers through your hair, “listen im not like them, i'm not gonna take shit from you”

“Sure”

“Youre a fucking asshole Kim Doyoung.” 

—-

You lay in bed and replayed that scene with Doyoung in your head multiple times. He was so unbothered by your antics nor did he care about anyone's feelings within the group. He was cold, heartless all he thought about was himself. His cold expression was practically engraved in your head, spending all these hours with him was really not your favourite pastime. 

Group 7 gc 7:00pm

KDY: I posted a schedule for tomorrow we will be working in pairs on the highlighted sections. 

You took a look at his document and groaned when you saw your name placed next to his. There was no way, no way in hell you want to work with him one on one. Not caring about breaking his rule, you pulled up a private chat with him and began expressing your concerns. 

y/n  x  KDY : 7:10pm 

Y/N: Hi, there's no fucking way in hell am I working with you. Change It. 

KDY: I said no private chats and no, I'm not changing it. 

Y/N: Wouldn't it be better for us to split and have the others actually DO work for once ?

KDY: I barely gave them room for error, we're going to be the most anyway and besides, I'd prefer someone who can handle...my personality. 

Y/N: …..so you agree..you are an asshole ?

KDY: I give people a reality check that's all..

Y/N: whatever makes you sleep at night...can I atleast choose our work venue because If I were stuck in a library again with you I might kill you. 

KDY: haha..

KDY: sure. 

Y/N: mango drop cafe, 10am. 

KDY: cool, see you then. 

‘Haha’. You had no idea why that text in particular riled you up. Did he find all of this amusing ? Was he making everyone's life a living hell because he enjoyed it ? You stared at his messages and somehow ended up on his profile picture. He was leaning against a railing dressed in all black with his hooded eyes concentrated on the camera lense, Your realization of how attractive he was came from the fact that you stared at the picture for a good 20 minutes. You wondered who took the picture, a girlfriend maybe ? You shook your head. He seemed too uptight to be getting laid. You sighed, closing your phone and awaited yet another day with the insufferable gorgeous man that was Kim Doyoung. 

You arrived quite early at the cafe but of course Doyoung was here before you, already typing away at his laptop, in his usual attire. You greeted the barista and placed an order for a chilled cafe latte before making your way over to him. 

“Hey” you said simply and took a seat opposite him in the booth. Doyoung’s ears perked up at the sound of your voice and made room for your books on the table.

“You're here early” 

“You're already picking a fight with me?” you said casually setting up your workspace. 

Doyoung chuckled under his breath and shook his head, “I just didn't expect you this early y/n it's not that serious.” 

You ignored his words and got straight to work, not in the mood to play his little game. You felt Doyoung look at you a few times. You weren't sure if it were to check if youre doing the right thing or he was just looking at you. 

“Well i'm done with my part” you stretched your arms above your head and yawned. 

“Yeah I'm pretty much done too, Do you want another cup of coffee ?” Doyoung offered pointing to your empty cup. You were taken back by his softer demeanor but quickly nodded, “uh yeah sure.” 

Doyoung returned carrying a tray of two fresh cups of coffee and a slice of cheesecake. Setting everything down he handed you the extra fork and placed the cheesecake in the middle of the table to make it easier to share. 

“H-how much do I owe you ?” You fumbled in your bag for your wallet. 

“It's okay, it's my treat” Doyoung replied, placing a piece of cheesecake in his mouth and slowly licking the fork clean. You gulped as his tongue darted out carefully licking the cream from the metal, not leaving any residue behind. You had no idea what the hell was going on but you felt hot, almost claustrophobic. 

“You're okay?” Doyoung asked innocently, unaware of what he was doing to you. 

“Why are you being...nice?” You questioned, knitting your eyebrows together as the man continued to act as if this was his usual behavior. 

Doyoung pursed his lips and placed the fork on the plate, “You want me to be mean to you?”

“No I just don't get-”

“I apologized to Dami and she told me she only overreacted because the guy she likes, Seungmin was there” Doyoung explained and removed his spectacles, “she was embarrassed to ask anyone for help, I paired them up for today.”

“Wait wha-”

“Also Jangjun works at the campus radio” Doyoung continued, “I had only found out the day we all met, I gave him tasks that will allow him more flexibility, that way he doesn't have to join group sessions often.” 

You blinked, unable to form any words in order to reply to Doyoung. Especially after he chuckled at your speechlessness, knowing you didn't bother getting his side of the story at first. 

“You were right y/n I dont have to be an asshole all the time, I just like to get my work done” He shrugged. You kept eye contact with him but somehow it felt as if he were still toying with you, waiting on your next reaction. He seemed like he played this game often, making sure he always had the upper hand. Doyoung seemed relaxed as he stared at you, taking another scoop of the cheesecake and slowly ran his tongue over his lips after his bite. What the fuck was he doing ? 

“Y/N ?” you heard a familiar voice come from the entrance of the cafe. Your attention diverted from Doyoung to the blonde haired boy who began approaching your table. 

“Jungwoo ? oh my God what are you doing here ?” You stood up and pulled him into a tight hug and pecked his cheek. Doyoung shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched your exchange with the stranger. 

“I got off early from class about to go to Subway, are you still doing that group project thing?” Jungwoo looked over at your table and half smiled at Doyoung who tried to distract himself with his phone. 

“Uh yeah but i'm all done here I think, wanna hang out ?” you hooked arms with Jungwoo as he nodded enthusiastically. You turned around and scratched the back of your head, 

“So...uh”

“Were all done you can go, I have somewhere to be anyway” Doyoung smiled as you slowly began packing up your things. 

“Alright, see you tomorrow I guess” you bid your goodbye and headed out for lunch with Jungwoo. 

—-

You had just finished up your skincare routine and caught up with a few instagram posts when you noticed Doyoung had followed you. Sitting up in bed you scrolled through his feed curiously. Every post was aesthetically pleasing and he looked absolutely hot in every single one of them. He had to have a girlfriend right ? No guy posts pictures this good without women flooding his DMs. 

There was no harm in doing the same since he was in your class, you decided to return the follow and close the app. Suddenly your phone vibrated with a new message in your chats. 

Y/N X KDY  10:30pm

KDY: hey 

Y/N: aren't you breaking two of your rules right now ?

KDY: haha 

KDY: I didn't realize what time it was…

Y/N: ….anyways..is this about work at least ?

KDY: kinda… you left one of your books at the cafe. I have it with me. 

Y/N: oh… thank you.

KDY: no prob...oh I hope its not a problem I added you on ig

Y/N: no its okay we are friends I guess

KDY: haha I thought I was the insufferable asshole..

Y/N: you are...but not all the time. Look im sorry for saying shitty things about you. 

KDY: its all good. 

KDY: …….

Y/N: ..whats up?

You twirled your fingers as you watched the three dots from Doyoung pop up and disappear over and over again. What was taking him so long ? 

KDY: that guy….that you met at the cafe..is he your boyfriend ?

Y/N: Jungwoo ? no way we've been friends since high school.

KDY: oh..

Y/N:....why would you even ask that ?

KDY: curious. 

Y/N: curious about who I'm dating ??

KDY: A little. 

You frowned at your phone and noticed Doyoung had changed his profile picture to a selfie. The picture was..something alright. You bit down on your lip as you enlarged the picture, which showed a wet haired Doyoung with his head resting in his palm and his long index finger was placed between his plump lips. 

“Fuck y/n get yourself together” you gave yourself a pep talk before opening his chat back up again. 

Y/N X KDY  10.54PM

Y/N: fine if you can ask a question can I ask one..

KDY: go ahead 

Y/N: who do you keep thirst trapping for ?

KDY: ….haha thirst trapping ? 

Y/N: Yeah who do keep posting these hot pics for huh

KDY: …..

KDY: You think i'm hot ?

Fuck. Why did you word it that way. You groaned immediately regretting sending that message but something in you was so curious about him you decided to just risk it, what was the worst that could happen ? 

Y/N: well yeah, I mean I'm sure everyone thinks you're attractive, you seem to know it too. 

KDY: wow. 

KDY: I think you're hot too. 

What the hell was going on. You felt your face heat up and you placed your pillow in between your legs as you turned on your side. 

KDY: I was almost disappointed when I thought Jungwoo was your boyfriend, he's way too passive. 

Y/N: ...and what makes you think you know what kind of man I need ?

KDY: hmmm

KDY: first of, with that fucking attitude of yours..A dominate one. 

You swallowed hard as you felt a tingle in your stomach, squeezing your thighs together on the pillow to create more friction. 

Y/N: I could say the same for you. 

KDY: You may think youre dominate in many aspects...but when it comes to fucking..im the one in charge. 

God you hated how hot that sounded. He had you in the palm of his hand through text. You were a mess and he wasn't even the room to fuel it. You wanted him so fucking bad it was insane. 

Y/N: running your mouth doesn't equate to doing it you know...

KDY:.....

KDY: then would you like me to show you ?

Everything happened so damn fast. One minute you two were texting the next minute you were sharing your apartment location and Doyoung was on his way over. You scrambled to put on sexier underwear and do your hair, still in shock by the fact that Doyoung was on his way over to bang you. 

You jumped when you heard the doorbell and realized it was him. Opening the door you were greeted to a very different look of Doyoung. His hair was messy and reached his eyes. Instead of his usual black academic attire he wore a loose white vest that showed off his toned chest and arms, along with a pair of grey sweatpants. 

“Hi” Doyoung smirked, his eyes were dark as he scanned your figure. 

“Hi” you responded, leaning against the wall in the hallway and looked up at him. Doyoung slowly approached you, like a lion circling its prey. His slender fingers danced lightly along your body, drawing a line from your waist until he found your throat and wrapped his cold fingers around it. He bit down on his lip as he studied how perfectly his hand looked around it and squeezed gently, smirking after hearing a soft moan emit from you. 

“I want you to do as I say, any back chat from you will get you punished you got that ?” he brought his lips down to your neck and exhaled. 

You nodded in response but that wasn't good enough for Doyoung. You felt his squeeze on your throat once more and he used his hips to pin you against the wall, “use your words” he gritted his teeth. 

“Yes sir” you replied obediently, and felt him smile against your neck. 

“Good girl, and if i'm too rough let me know so I can stop okay ?” he replied, his voice changed and it was much sweeter and genuine than before. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek when you nodded and led you to the bed. 

Doyoung lay you on the bed, already stripping off his shirt and ordered you to undress yourself and rid him off his sweatpants. You bit down on your lip taking notice of how aroused he was when you palmed his member. 

Doyoung watched you through hooded eyes as you discarded his sweatpants and boxers. He softly patted your head and grabbed a tuft of your hair in order to make you look up at him. 

“Spit” he ordered, and held out his hand and you did as you were told. You watched as he lathered himself with it, moaning as he stroked himself. He was so damn sexy, biting down on lip and slowly pleased himself as you watched. 

“Do you want this inside you sweetheart ?” he cooed and placed a finger under chin. 

You nodded quickly, “Yes please” 

“What do you want me to do baby ?” He purred and hovered over you as you lay on the bed, breathing heavily as his fingers moved against your warm skin, tracing your curves, ghosting over your heat and returning back to your lips to insert a digit inside. 

Doyoung watched diligently as you sucked on his finger like the good girl he knew you were. He finally pulled his finger out and with one swift movement entered with his member before you could even respond to his question. You moaned as he quickly slammed his hips into yours, wasting no time in gaining a rhythm as you marked his back with scratch marks feeling as though you were on a high. 

Doyoung fucked you like a pro, wasting no time to switch positions and had you on all fours, slapping your ass before slamming into you again, that pretentious smirk forming on his face as he heard your whimpers asking him for more. 

“Are you ready to cum sweetheart ?” he asked, pulling you up as his strokes became slower and tugged on your ear with his teeth. 

“Y-yes yes i'm ready” you panted.

“What's the magic word ?” he growled as he grabbed your throat and slowed down his pace as you were nearing your climax. 

“Fuck youre so annoying PLEASE, please let me cum Doyoung fuck” 

Doyoung chuckled and picked up his pace until you finally climaxed and he followed shortly after, collapsing in the bed next to you. 

“You have such an attitude God” he rolled his eyes playfully, bringing the blanket over your bodies and grinned when you moved in to cuddle him. 

“I guess you will have to fix that some time” you yawned and wrapped your arm around his waist, “but I have to admit, maybe I do enjoy the insufferable Kim Doyoung bossing me around once in a while.”

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Everything Stays

Part Two: Of Bliss, Of Blood

(A/N) Okay WOW. I did not expect the response I got from part one! Thank you so much for all the feedback!! I’m glad you guys like it!! Everyone who asked to be tagged, I’m pretty sure I got all of you. If you wanna be tagged, lemme know! This is gonna be another one of my dark fics, full of existential dread. Guess who read a lot of Anne Rice as a Youth? The people have spoken, and the people want more Natasha and so I must provide! also the word ‘simp’ comes from the early 1900s / late 1890′s. ur welcome

♫ ♫ ♫ I really outdid myself with this one

Rating: M (Mature; Dark Content Ahead)

Warnings: Should be obvious but we have blood here; Fury/Romanoff Father/Daughter relationship bc I need it and i am selfish; Sexual Tension Babes!!; Foul Language; Existentialism; Overall Melancholy

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Vampire!Reader (F)

Chapter Word Count: 4,971

Total Word Count: 14,880

Synopsis: You adjust to your new second life; You and Natasha have a Moment; You reconnect with an old friend.

| i | ii | iii | iv | coming soon |

god i wish that straw were me

It’s been two weeks since you woke up from your magically-induced hibernation. You have much better control over your thirst for blood now that you can simply grab a bag from the ‘minifridge’ in your room. You don’t blame the others for not wanting to see you feed - it’s rather gross in your opinion, as well. 

Natasha helped you decorate, particularly to cover the giant windows in your room with large, deep purple curtains. Your days are split between researching ancient demonic cults and catching up with all that lost time. The first time you see a television, you can’t stop gawking at it like a loon. While some of the others found it endearing, Steve was the supportive one for the most part. Turns out, he does know a thing or two about waking up in a different time. 

Your nights, though, are spent in solitude. You don’t need to sleep, not really - and you’ve had plenty of sleep, anyway - so nights are what you’d consider your time to do whatever you want outside of prying eyes. You have too many questions and too few answers. 

Tonight, you’re out on the balcony. The city below is a swath of lights, even this late into the evening. You wonder how many monsters are out there lurking, while you’re stuck up here. You haven’t tried leaving the Tower on your own yet, but you aren’t sure if you really want to.

It’s strange. You feel like a ghost of sorts. Here, in this time, in this world - but, at the same time, always stuck in the Then. You feel so different, but - you’re not exactly the monster you thought you would be. You still feel sad. You miss your father. You miss your brother. Your mother-

What had happened to her, you can’t help but wonder? She’s no doubt dead, but you didn’t tell her where you were going. That doesn’t make much difference, you suppose. After your brother’s death, she was a vacant husk of a woman. Lost in her own grief, gripped in the terror of What If. 

You were all she had.

Then, there was the impending apocalypse. It was always an impending apocalypse.

The sliding glass door hisses as it opens, alerting you to another presence. You recognize it as Natasha almost immediately; she’s quieter than the others, and her scent is uniquely her own.

“I’m supposed to be the nocturnal one,” you joke lightly as she approaches you. 

The redhead laughs softly, leaning her elbows on the railing. Her shoulders are tense, gaze a little distant. Even so, her posture is straight and stiff. “Do you not sleep?” She asks.

“No,” you look back out into the bustling city. “I can sleep, but my body doesn’t need it.”

Natasha is excellent at masking her expression into one of neutrality. Still, you can see the way her lips twitch every so often, as if struggling to keep a light smile. Something is bothering her. You’ve never been one for subtlety.

The wind picks up, sending waves of red into the air like flickering flames. Natasha suppresses a shiver, but you don’t miss it. You shrug off the jacket you bought during your first trip to the outside world with Natasha. She said you looked great in it, and though you don’t feel the temperature, it gave you some comfort to have something heavy and warm. You place the jacket on her shoulders, earning a teasing smirk from Natasha.

“So you are a gentlewoman,” she observes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I tell no lies, ma’am.” You watch her pull the jacket tighter around herself. “What are you doing up so late?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she looks down at the smooth metal of the balcony. Her fingers drum against it, her expression thoughtful and dazed. 

“I don’t sleep well,” she says after a long silence. She says it in the way that people often say things when they’re just damned tired. Not physically, but mentally. She’s been through a lot, and while she can seem confident and in control most of the time, it’s only a mask for how she truly feels. You know a lot about that. It was how you lived your entire life.

“Back in my day,” you start, earning a snort and a groan from the redhead.

“You’re starting to sound like Steve,” she explains, a little breathless.

You roll your eyes. “This generation does not understand respect.”

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” She pouts teasingly. 

You scoff. “Monsters don’t have feelings, remember?”

“Hey,” her tone hardens, just a little. “What did I say about calling yourself that?”

You meet her gaze with a half-smile. “Sorry, force of habit. Well, when I couldn’t sleep, my brother would take me out to the fields. He’d show me the stars, make up stories for them. Sometimes he would name them after the vampires he killed,” you can’t help but laugh a little at that. “He was always soft like that… father saw it as a weakness, but… maybe, in the end, he was the most human of us all.”

Natasha gives you a sympathetic smile. “There we go, back to sounding like a greeting card. Sounds like your brother was a good man.”

“He should have been the one with all this…” You gesture to the books with a sigh. “I was never meant to be the heir.”

“But you are.”

“But I am,” you agree. “What about you? Last I was around, Russia was a political minefield.” 

“And here I thought you didn’t waste your time with politics when you were busy hunting monsters.” Natasha playfully nudges her shoulder against yours. 

“Well, monarchies of over three centuries don’t typically fall apart silently. Revolution is never silent.” You shrug.

“True,” Natasha hums, tapping the counter. “I was a spy, of sorts. An assassin, really. Worked up quite the reputation before SHIELD got to me. Made me open my eyes to a hell of a lot.”

“But not vampires?”

“No, not vampires.” She chuckles. “Been here ever since.”

You hum, allowing yourself to look over her once again. She really is beautiful. A knockout dame like her would have been a primary target for vampires. Immortality wouldn’t change much about her, you think. She’s already so achingly gorgeous. Her heart picks up the pace, a lovely pink spreading across her cheeks the longer you look at her.

She clears her throat, stepping away from the railing. “I should really get back to bed.”

“You should,” you agree, though the thought of being without her saddens you a little.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she promises.

“See you,” you watch her disappear back inside, feeling strangely warm as yo udo so. You turn back to the skyline, at the rays of gold and pink just starting to appear over the distance. This world is so strange, so new - but, maybe, you might find your place here.

- - - -

“And you’re sure they’ll have… valuable information?” Fury asks, sounding hesitant as he glances at you and Natasha.

“I’m not certain, but it’s a start. Your tech gobbledygook is taking too long, and I can’t stand being cooped up here all the time.” You admit honestly.

“And you think Agent Romanoff is the best choice for companionship?” He continues, and this time you really do understand the distrust in his tone. Going into a literal den of vampires doesn’t sound ideal, and though he knows Natasha is more than capable of handling herself, legends he’s read lately of vampires going after beautiful young women have him a little bit worried. (Not that he’ll admit it.)

“I’ll be alright,” you promise. “If they step out of line, I’ve taken down plenty of leeches in my day. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” he relents, though his look of worry doesn’t fade. “Romanoff, gather as much intel with (Y/N) as you can.”

She nods curtly, giving him a reassuring smile.

Hours later, you’re helping Natasha get ready for your late night excursion.

“Most Feeders wear red,” you explain. “Hides the, ah, blood.”

“Why do these places exist, exactly?” Natasha asks, searching her closet for something red. You’d also informed her about exposed necks (which, back in your day, were incredibly taboo) so it’s obvious she’s searching for a particular dress she has in mind. 

“When a vampire bites you,” you explain slowly, “and their saliva mixes into the wound, it can cause a weird chemical reaction in your brain. It’s sort of like…”

“Getting high?” Natasha looks over her shoulder at you with surprise. “So… they’re taking advantage of people by getting them stoned?”

You cringe. “Well, sort of. To them, it’s like having a pet. The humans are well taken care of - obviously blood tastes better from a healthy human than an unhealthy one. They give consent, at least, which, in my day, was practically unheard of.”

She hums thoughtfully, pulling out a hanger with a grin. “Did you ever visit one before?”

You clear your throat, looking away from her as she steps behind a screen to change. “Once. I was captured by a Coven once and brought to one of the Dens to hold for ransom. They never bit me or anything, but father was never a man of mercy.” 

“So if I’m in red, what are you going to wear?” Natasha pokes her head out.

“Black, if tradition still stands.”

“Naturally.” She huffs and steps out. “Can you help me zip up?”

If you still had blood, you know you’d be blushing. You stand on somewhat shaky legs and approach the redhead. She turns her back to you, the zipper all the way down to her waist. Did she even try to get it herself?

You hear her heart begin to race as you grip the metal and pull it up, the cold tips of your knuckles tracing along Natasha’s spine. Her breath hitches, and you find yourself drowning in the scent of her. She is unfairly beautiful.

You take a step back to clear your head. Natasha looks at you with an unreadable expression, her lips pursed. She studies you for a long moment, eyes roaming up and down your body. 

You do the same, admiring how well she pulls off the color. Red suits her; you can only assume she’s going to paint her lips to match it. The long slit up the side and the scandalously low cut of it are enough to send your mind spinning.

“I might have something for you.” Natasha hums thoughtfully, breaking you out of your trance as she moves back to her closet to dig around.

You quickly pull on the long, black dress she’d picked out for you. It hugs your curves almost as perfectly as her dress hugs hers, but you think she’s just naturally that perfect. (It’s almost annoying, if it wasn’t so damn pleasant to the eyes.)

She even does your makeup for you, painting your face in ways that your father would have scorned. By the time you’re ready to leave, you look almost like a different person again. 

“We look hot,” Natasha grins, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

You snort. “What does temperature have to do with this?”

You can only laugh along with her, despite your confusion and her lack of an explanation. It’s odd, how easy it has become to be around her. Maybe it’s because it was her blood that woke you up, or maybe it’s just a natural sort of connection. You aren’t sure what to categorize it as. 

She was flirtatious - far more daring than any woman when you were alive. In fact, your attraction to women was extremely secretive. The fact that she’s so open to flirting with you in front of anyone - even the men - is always surprising, but when she does so in privacy like this, it makes your head go all fuzzy.

Natasha Romanoff was a dangerous woman. (But, then again, danger has always been an inescapable mistress.)

- - - -

You aren’t sure what you expect when you step into the Feeder Den. You remember when you had been captured and your father came to save you, the place erupted into violence. Naturally, they all knew who he was and what he was there for. Back then, there wasn’t a vampire around that didn’t know who Van Helsing was. You’re sure that if you entered one yourself back then, it would have a similar result. 

You certainly don’t expect the sudden silence. They’ve adapted to the modern day, with dark lighting and heavy music - the front of it appears to be some kind of bar for humans, but the back rooms are where the feeding takes place. The moment you slip into the back room, all eyes are on you, wide with wonder.

The atmosphere is tense; wary. Do they recognize you? Instinctively, you keep yourself a bit in front of Natasha with a dangerous expression on your features. You can sense Natasha’s own apprehension and confusion, but she doesn’t show it. (You doubt she’d ever show an ounce of fear in front of these monsters.)

You take careful strides through the small lounge. Sofas and loveseats made of black leather line the walls, occasionally separated by a half wall. The tables have a few drinks and snacks for the Feeders, but not many of them look touched. As you predicted, the Feeders are wearing red, and are blissed out at the sides of their vampiric companions, who watch over them with mixed, unreadable expressions. 

It’s like they’re afraid of you. Like there’s an unspoken unease the second they see you. The smell of blood is everywhere, clouding your mind just a little as your thirst begins to burn at your throat. You’ve never fed from a human before - never considered the idea of it - but suddenly it’s too tantalizing not to think about. You try to hold your breath to fight the effects of it, but it does little to soothe the ache in your throat. Natasha’s arm loops through yours, her emerald eyes shining with concern.

You lead Natasha to a less populated cubicle, where a boy and his Feeder are sitting comfortably. The woman beside him looks half-conscious, a bit of blood drying at the edges of her dress. He wipes his lips with a napkin, almost delicately, before looking up as you approach. His eyes widen, his posture stiffening when you and Natasha take your places at the empty loveseat.

“Hello,” you greet, hoping you sound friendly despite your apprehension. 

He swallows, licks his lips. His extended fangs glint just a little bit as he tries to flash a nervous smile in return. “I’ve never seen you ‘round these parts before,” he speaks in a light British accent, hardly noticeable. He’s been around a while, you assume. Long enough that his accent has begun to fade to an American one. “We don’t often get newcomers.”

“Well, I’ve only been in America for a few weeks,” you explain, releasing Natasha’s arm so you can wrap your own around her waist and pull her closer. 

“And you’ve found yourself a Feeder already?” He looks at Natasha with interest. “A beauty, too.”

“I’m a dedicated sort of woman, I suppose,” you hope you’re conveying as much ownership as possible. If you aren’t careful, he might try and coerce Natasha into letting him feed and that is something you’re trying to avoid at all costs. “Tell me, who is the Overseer of this place?”

He looks nervous, suddenly. He looks away, towards a door further back into the lounge. “She doesn’t much like visitors.”

“I see…” You hum thoughtfully. That’s not good. “Well, it’s been quite a while since I was around others of my kind.”

“Yeah, I hear Europe has gone dry since that Helsing heir went crazy.” He snorts. You try to control your body from its natural reaction, to little avail. 

“Helsing,” you remark curiously. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods, grinning fully now. “Legend says she fought the King Himself. But I don’t think she realized what she was doing,” he chuckles to himself. “She freed us from His grasp. We aren’t His servants anymore.”

You frown, interest sufficiently piqued. “Is that so?”

“Of course! Don’t you feel it? No darkness, no hate…” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Imagine that, a Helsing saving us? Can you believe it?”

“No,” you force a grin onto your face. “No, I can’t.” You glance at Natasha, who looks just as shocked as you. “That’s actually why I’m here. I’ve been… very interested in the disappearance of the King, and the odds of a reappearance.” 

He looks disarmed, uncomfortable. He looks at his Feeder longingly. “Well, miss, I don't know about that. I think we’d all have felt it by now. But, I’m still young. Only turned in the forties.” He shrugs.

“Do you know anyone who might know more?” You press.

“Benjamin!” Someone scolds. You look up to find a stern-looking blonde, who’s glaring at the boy you’d been speaking with. “You didn’t tell me we had newcomers.” Her glare is dangerous, her tone sickeningly sweet. She wipes a bit of blood off the corner of her mouth. “What did I tell you about newcomers?”

“S-sorry, Thalia. This is- ah, I didn’t catch your name?” Benjamin eyes you with panic.

Shit. “Uh-”

“Willa. Her name is Willa and I’m Natasha,” Natasha quickly saves. You give her a grateful smile before the blonde named Thalia scoffs.

“She’s from Europe,” Benjamin adds, cringing at Thalia’s expression.

“Didn’t realize they let their bloodwhores talk.” 

Uh oh. This is escalating quickly. Before Natasha can open her mouth again you interrupt sharply, “She’s my lover, actually.” Okay, not a good save judging by the gawking expressions on their faces. 

“You can actually control yourself?” Benjamin inquires, a little in awe. 

Why did I say that?? “Yeah, uh, can’t you?” Terrible save. Cover? Blown. Maybe you aren’t cut out for this new world, after all.

Thalia’s interest falls on you, at last. She studies you for a long moment, then turns to Natasha with open curiosity. The redhead doesn’t waver under those blood-red eyes, but you’re sure it’s making her uneasy. 

“I don’t see any marks on her neck,” Thalia notes, though not nearly as scrutinizing as she has been since you met her.

“They’re… other places.” You excuse, rather lamely. To your relief, Natasha’s blush is enough to make it believable. 

Benjamin and Thalia both exchange nervous looks before laughing. 

“You are a strange one,” Thalia comments, looking over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “Come with me. Both of you.” Benjamin gets ready to stand, but quickly sinks back into his seat when Thalia gives him a warning look. 

You grab Natasha’s hand, slotting your fingers together as you follow the woman through the rest of the lounge room. She leads you to what could have, at one point, been an office. Now, however, it’s some kind of small room full of comfortable chairs and numerous Feeders either napping or draped across the furniture with dazed expressions. 

“You always keep them in here?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as the heavy door shuts behind you.

“Oh, you can drop the act,” Thalia crosses her arms and faces you with a wicked expression, lips curled into a smirk.

Your stomach drops. “W-what?”

“Please, I could sense you the moment you entered my Den.” She rolls her eyes, flashes her fangs. She looks hungrily at Natasha. “Nice touch, though; bringing the redhead.”

“Who are-”

“You don’t remember me?” Thalia tilts her head, jutting her bottom lip out in a pout. “And I thought I left quite the impression.”

You wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion. Come to think of it, yes, she does look rather familiar. But where have you seen her before? Your jaw goes slack as you recognize her. “Elizabet? Elizabet Petrikov?”

“In the flesh,” she motions towards her body with a sarcastic bark of laughter. “After you left to follow daddy, I got a little… mixed up in the wrong crowd.”

“Yeah, clearly.” You scoff, holding Natasha a bit closer to you. 

“Who is she?” The redhead asks, confused. 

“She was a witch.” You narrow your eyes at her. “Now, she isn’t.”

“I was more than a witch.” Her tone grows sour. “I helped you more than once, if I recall correctly - which I do.”

“Why are you here? In America?” You press.

She rolls her eyes with a noncommittal shrug. “After the death of the King, and your little path of death and destruction, most of the supernaturals in Europe retreated back to the Underworld.”

“You didn’t.”

“Death doesn’t suit me.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’m not the only one from the old days still around. I’m more interested in how you, a Helsing - no, the Helsing - are standing in front of me right here, right now, in the body of the creature you despise?”

“Long story.” You grumble.

“Oh, I know the story,” she grins. “It’s a legend among us, you know. You’re a legend.”

“I still don’t understand that.”

She tuts, approaches one of her more coherent Feeders with swaying hips. Her fingers cup his jaw, tilting his face up to look at her. He smiles, brightly, and she croons softly at him. “I know you don’t.”

“You sound like you do know.” You accuse.

She turns to you, holding up a palm. “You know I don’t give my information for free.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I want a taste of your friend,” she eyes Natasha hungrily again. 

You step in front of her. “No.”

“You can’t take the high-and-mighty road anymore,” Elizabet snorts. “You’re one of us now, and it’s only custom to participate in the rules of the Den.”

You scowl at her. “I’m not letting you feed from her.”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “Then you will leave with nothing. It’s obvious you came here for something, and you won’t get it until I know you’re one of us.”

“I’m not-”

Natasha says your name softly. You look at her with panic. “Why don’t you do it instead?” She asks in a hushed tone, though Elizabet or Thalia or whatever she wants to be called now can hear her. 

“Is- is that okay?” You ask, frowning. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to like… fuck your head up.”

“Trust me,” she gives an encouraging smile. “I trust you.”

You look back to Elizabet. “Fine. If I feed from her, will you tell me whatever bullshit you have to tell me?”

Elizabet grins. “Watching you commit the biggest sin your old man could think of? Absolutely.”

You turn to Natasha again, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be quick, and I’ll be gentle.” You remove your hand from hers to place it firmly at her waist, the other moving to thread through long, coppery locks. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yup, perfectly fine,” Natasha’s voice cracks just a little, her eyes meeting yours as she gently tilts her head to the side. The sight should not be as attractive as it is - especially given your current situation - but there’s no denying the thrilling buzz that rolls through you at the sight.

You lower your lips to her neck, hearing her breath hitch as you give a gentle tug at her hair to expose more. You feel her pulse thrumming beneath warm skin, effectively clouding your mind into a numb sort of haze. It’s difficult to control the way your breath picks up, your pupils dilating just as your fangs extend and pierce Natasha’s skin.

She sucks in a harsh breath before letting out an involuntary groan. You feel her fingers digging into your back, her chest rising and falling quickly as the first droplets of blood land on your tongue. 

You almost moan at the feeling.

You almost have to force yourself to run your tongue over the puncture wounds before pulling away. You place a more gentle kiss on them before pulling away entirely, watching the redhead’s features for any sign of discomfort or pain. Instead, a smile is beginning to stretch across her red-painted lips. 

Green eyes meet yours, and they’re cloudy. “Oh, wow,” she breathes, almost uneasily. 

“Even a small dose can leave ‘em loopy,” Elizabet notes, still smirking. You release Natasha’s hair, but keep an arm around her waist when you turn back to the blonde. Natasha leans into you with a pleased hum. “Kind of neat, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t come here to chitchat.”

“You were always so focused on business,” Elizabet leans back down to the Feeder still in her grasp and feeds from him roughly. He grunts, then sighs, limbs going slack until she pulls away.

“When business involves myself becoming a revered legend among the creatures I spent my whole life killing, yes, I’m rather focused on it.” You hiss.

She rolls her eyes again. “I don’t know much about the legend itself. That is to say, I know approximately as much about it now as I did a century ago.”

Maybe it’s the rush of energy that had come to you by drinking Natasha’s blood, but you’re suddenly finding yourself far easier to anger. “You knew?” You snarl.

She waves her hand noncommittally. “I knew of a legend involving the Vampire King. I simply didn’t know who it involved.”

“And what was this legend?” It couldn’t have been the one he so vehemently believed in, could it? You never quite learned the entirety of it, though you wish you did, now. No doubt your father died knowing it like the back of his hand.

“I said I know of it,” she repeats, scoffing. “You haven’t changed, you know that? So impatient.” Before you open your mouth to retort, she speaks again: “But I do know someone who is well-versed in it. She’s quite famous in Paris, at the moment, but I know you have your ways.” She winks mischievously at you before moving to a nearby bookshelf. She tears off a piece of paper from a notebook, writes something down on it before handing it to you. 

“Thank you,” you don’t hide your annoyance as you take it and stuff it into your bra. 

“Consider it a favor for old times’ sake.” Elizabet eyes Natasha again, licking her lips. “If you come around again, be sure to bring her.”

You will definitely not be doing that. Ever.

You slip out of the room with Natasha in tow, still slow in her movements. You consider carrying her, but before you can do so, she bumps into a man’s shoulder. He turns to her with a wild anger in his gaze.

“Watch it, bloodwhore,” he spits.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve shoved the man to the ground and have your heel pressed sharply into his back. “Listen here, schmuck, I’ve had a hell of a night. I will not let you talk like that to my friend here.” You press harder into him. “Now, apologize.”

He looks absolutely scared shitless. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he knew who you are, but there’s no recognition in his gaze. Just fear. Like he’s pissed off the King of Vampires himself. 

“S-sorry, miss,” he stammers, looking at Natasha with terror.

Natasha giggles, a sound that is so much unlike her that you can’t help staring at her in horror. “God, you’re strong,” the redhead practically purrs, returning to your side as if you hadn’t just thrown a man to the ground. 

“Right,” you remove your heel. “Goodnight, then.”

Once you’re back out into the evening air, Natasha seems to clear her head a little. She looks at you with open curiosity, though when your eyes meet, she blushes and looks away. Her heart is hammering wildly in her chest.

“Okay,” you say once you’re a fair distance from the club. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing!” She clears her throat, blushing even harder. “It’s just- ah, I didn’t think… it would feel like that.”

“Yeah, well, you saw the people in there.” You suppress a shudder. “You don’t want to end up like that.”

“No, I know,” she looks away. “But, um… I mean, it felt… great, and I’m glad it was with you, and not… her.” She pauses. “How do you know her, anyway?”

“Why, are you jealous?”

“No!” Natasha rolls her eyes as you find your automobile. Er, car, as they call it these days. “I’m just curious.”

“We met through work,” you shrug. “Witches were open to more… sapphic activities, wherein others in society were not.” You leave it at that, opening the driver’s side door. “Are you alright to drive?”

She scoffs. “I’m fine. I just feel like I had an orgasm, though.”

You actually choke at that. “What?”

Her eyes widen. “I thought you knew what it felt like?”

“Harkon didn’t exactly consider giving me a dose of endorphins when he bit me. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to suffer.”

“Oh,” she starts the car once you get in. “Well, it feels really, really good. My arms and legs are still a little jelly-ish.”

You snort. “Well, next time I feel like giving a woman an unintentional orgasm, I’ll let you know.”

“Why don’t you make it intentional?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Romanoff. We’ve got a lead to follow up on.”

- - - - next chapter - - - -

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[jangofctts]

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy 

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.  

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn​ THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are. 

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that? 

Not much, as it so happens. 

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding— 

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail. 

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought. 

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in. 

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.            

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics. 

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…  

So you ran. 

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.    

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.  

Maker—how did everything become so tangled? 

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out. 

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift. 

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.  

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.     

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground. 

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.  

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and— 

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times. 

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving. 

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”       

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.   

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz. 

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now. 

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.      

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”  

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.  

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.  

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”   

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.   

“No more bounties.” 

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.  

“No more hunts alone—“  

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.” 

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.  

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”   

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”    

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”    

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire. 

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond. 

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails. 

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”    

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.   

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.   

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.  

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.    

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble. 

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.      

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night. 

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over. 

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits. 

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.  

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.  

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.   

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.    

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you. 

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”       

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow. 

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—  

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.” 

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.  

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.       

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”  

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.        

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.   

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.   

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.     

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.   

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous. 

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”  

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh. 

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?” 

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”    

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers. 

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling. 

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal. 

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“ 

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.       

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.   

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.  

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.” 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.  

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.  

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you. 

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now. 

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"  

He continues without missing a beat. 

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck.  “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity. 

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.    

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly. 

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.   

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.   

Maker you hate this fucking planet—   

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up. 

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.           

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”    

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.      

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar— 

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.    

You were right. 

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand. 

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”     

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.   

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants. 

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought. 

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath. 

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.  

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.  

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward. 

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance. 

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.          

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.  

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs 

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips. 

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.” 

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up. 

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you. 

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.           

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips. 

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.” 

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug. 

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.  

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.      

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.    

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.     

Another time for that game maybe. 

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you. 

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.” 

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.  

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.  

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works. 

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.      

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.” 

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind. 

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.  

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things. 

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim. 

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss. 

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue. 

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?” 

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.            

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent. 

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.   

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat. 

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” 

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches. 

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.         

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been. 

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst​ @blue-writes-a03​ @max--phillips​

[spacedikut]

how to ask a girl out ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) x reader

summary: elle sees an opportunity to teach spencer about asking a girl out. 3275 words

a/n: based on this scene. this is the longest fic ive ever written so sorry if it’s a painful read 

Spencer feels creepy staring at you like this.

There’s no other way to put it. He feels like he’s twelve again, the youngest in his Las Vegas high school, staring at all the pretty girls that get his heart racing just by existing. But you’re more enchanting than those girls. He could watch you do anything, he thinks, because no matter what you’re doing you look picture perfect, like you don’t have a single bad angle.

Spencer still has the social skills of twelve year old him, though. Especially when dealing with cute people.

“You know,” The voice makes Spencer jump, “If you stare long enough, she just might notice.”

Elle is smirking with her arms crossed, shooting Spencer an incriminating look. He tenses.

Seeing his discomfort, Elle relents, “I’m teasing, Reid.” He visibly relaxes against the door frame he’s half hiding behind, half leaning against.

“I’m not trying to be weird.” He mumbles. Elle thinks he sounds like a kid that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I know you’re not. Have you… spoken to her?”

You’re somewhat new to the unit. Some kind of assistant to JJ who joined several months ago (three months and three days, if Spencer counted correctly) (he did), which means the team don’t see you that much, just enough that you’ve been the topic of discussion a few times. It doesn’t help that JJ sings your praise, and Hotch recently revealed you made yourself available for babysitting his new-born if he ever needs it. Every time someone mentions you, it’s followed by some kind of compliment. Everyone loves you. Spencer has said all of five words to you, and he’s smitten.

“Hi. I’m Spencer. A doctor.”

When you were introduced you didn’t pay him much attention. He can’t blame you, it was overwhelming for you – being introduced to a whole bunch of FBI agents and then thrown head-first into sorting cases for them. But Spencer paid attention. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Derek’s caught him staring one too many times, but it isn’t Spencer’s fault he can’t stop thinking about you. You enter the room and Spencer’s attention is pulled to you, like a magnet.

Derek thinks it’s time he made a move. Spencer agreed and maintained that confidence for all of fifteen minutes, until he heard your joyful laugh dance down the hallway and his tongue felt too heavy to form words.

That’s when Elle noticed.

Across the room, you’re laughing at something Derek said with JJ. Seeing you smile makes Spencer smile, and Elle nudges him.

“Have you considered approaching her? Rather than, you know, watching her from afar like she’s prey?”

Spencer huffs, “You think I haven’t tried?”

Every time he’s moved to start a conversation, he finds himself unable to complete a single sentence. After he says hello, then what? He dies?

Elle breathes through her nose in frustration. “She’s a nice girl. I’ve spoken to her a couple of times. She mentioned the other day she wants to visit the local museum, since she just moved and hasn’t really explored yet. Shame no one is available to accompany her, right?”

“Are you implying something?”

“Yes.”

“I-I don’t. I can’t-“

“You can’t or you won’t?”

Spencer’s always admired Elle’s ability to be blunt and fearless. But he isn’t Elle, Elle isn’t him, so to him it doesn’t feel like he simply chooses to pussy out of talking to you – it feels like he’s physically constrained. Like he’s fighting against the tide of the ocean to reach you, and he keeps getting pushed back, further and further away from you.

Elle’s eyes shift between you and Spencer, like she’s watching a tennis match. “Just go up and ask her. It’s that simple. If she says no, she says no. No big deal!”

Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t do that. It’s Y/N! She’s-she’s-“

“A normal human being. You know, like you and me? The second you start putting people on pedestals is when things start falling apart.” She pats him on the shoulder as encouragement, “Have some confidence, Reid.”

And she walks away, as if just telling him to have some confidence will make him suddenly have the courage to whisk you off your feet.

He wishes he could whisk you off your feet.

+++

The paperwork is never ending. Times like this, Spencer considers recanting his stance on technology – maybe having everything on an online database would be a good idea. The stacks upon stacks around him would agree.

A paper ball hits the back of Spencer’s head.

He turns, slowly, and Elle gives a wave from her desk. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can I… help you?”

“Yes, you can.” She nods to the paper on the floor, “Read it.”

He leans and grabs the ball from the floor, opening it with furrowed brows.

Step 1: Actually talk to her.

Suddenly, Elle is standing right next to him, looking all-too-pleased with herself. She leans over him.

“What does this mean?”

“You wanna date Y/N? Talk to her. That means marching right up to her pretty little face and saying more than, like, a few words to her. You need to have a conversation with her to let her know you’re interested.”

Elle’s clearly confident in her plan, but it seems she’s forgetting an important detail – this is Spencer that she’s dealing with. Not Derek, who can charm anyone out of anything (or into anything), not Hotch who, when he wants to be, is the smoothest criminal ever. Not even Gideon, with his soft eyes that make anyone that stares into them feel safe. He’s Spencer Reid who, according to one guy, looks like a pipe cleaner with eyes.

Spencer’s hesitant to take any of Elle’s advice.

“What would I… say to her?” He asks. If he does talk to you, what does he even say? Do you even want to talk to him? What if you immediately hate him and JJ beats him up? She could do it. He’s seen her guns.

Elle looks at him incredulously, “Reid! C’mon! Anything! Ask how her day has been, if she had a good weekend, are there plans for this weekend… Literally anything.” Spencer gives a look of distrust, “You’ll know if she’s interested, trust me. She’ll reciprocate. If she doesn’t, she’s not up for it, and there’s your answer without even asking her out.”

At that moment, you and JJ appear from thin air, whispering to one another with your arms full of files. Both Spencer and Elle’s watchful gazes follow you right up until JJ’s office door is clicked shut and when you can only slightly be seen through the blinds, Spencer still stares. Elle hits him over the head.

“Pay attention!”

“She’s distracting!”

“She walked by you, not gave you a lap dance! Focus on the plan!”

With a sigh, he looks back to the crumpled paper in his hands. “What’s step two?”

The paper’s yanked out of his hands and Elle furiously scribbles something before handing it back to him.

Step 2: Make her laugh.

“I can’t do that.”

She scoffs, “Reid.”

“People laugh at me, Elle, not with me. The only way she’ll laugh is if I make a complete fool of myself and when I do that, I’m running away and never looking back. You’ll never see me again.”

Sick of the self-deprecation, Elle leans close to Spencer’s face and begins to whisper menacingly.

“Listen, bud,” She threatens, “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. You’re young, you’re inexperienced – that’s why approaching Y/N is so terrifying. Not because she’s out of your league, or you’re not good enough, it’s because you’ve never done this before. It’s simply a fear of stepping out of your comfort zone, so stop being so hard on yourself.”

Spencer isn’t sure how to respond, silently wishing something could get him out of this situation. He’s not used to being complimented so ferociously.

God answers his prayers. In the worst way possible.

“Incoming. Make her laugh, Reid.” Elle says, slinking off back to her desk.

Spencer quickly realises you’re approaching and his hands grip the armrests of his chair. He’s not ready for this. He wishes he had time to prepare, maybe google how to woo a woman, but you’re in front of him, all precious smiles with a manila folder in your hand.

“Hi, Doctor Reid.”

Your voices sounds like heaven. He can’t help but think, despite only listening to classical music, he could listen to your voice and only your voice if given the option. It’s like honey, sweet and smooth, and something inside him stirs. Everything about you is lovely.

He clears his throat and nervously wipes at his nose, “Hey. What can I do for you?”

“I was told to bring this to you,” You hand him the folder, “And JJ wanted me to check up on you. She said you’ve been working non-stop and that you probably consumed your bodyweight in coffee with enough sugar to give a small army diabetes. My guess is she wants to check your heart is still beating.”

Spencer laughs at that, which encourages you to giggle along. He freezes when he sees the way your eyes scrunch and smile widens when you laugh – he’d only seen it from a distance, up close it feels intimate and causes his throat to tighten. When your laughter dies, you’re left with an awkward silence as he stares. You shuffle your feet.

Elle is trying to look like she isn’t paying attention, but in her head she’s screaming at Spencer to say something!!!

“Sorry for disturbing you if you’re – um – if you’re busy.” You gesture to the mess on Spencer’s desk, and it’s then that he realises how his silence could’ve looked – to him, you quite literally took his breath away, but to you? He’s a weirdo that is still holding the file mid-air and hasn’t said a thing for far too long.

“No! No,” Spencer brushes his hair back, “Thank you for the file. JJ’s right, I should probably take a break-“

He looks up then. This is his chance, right?

“Are you busy right now?”

You glance around and your eyes find JJ’s office, where she’s signalling for you to come over, “Yeah. Sorry.”

It feels like a punch in the gut – is this rejection? – but there’s a look of sadness that crosses your face. Your mouth falls at the edges and your brows slightly crease – do you wish you weren’t busy?

If Spencer didn’t feel like he’s seconds away from vomiting, he’d ask. Maybe. That sounds a whole lot like flirting and he isn’t sure he can handle that.

You quickly leave, not before you tell him to look after himself (his heart swells), and the second you’re far enough away Elle is marching right over and throwing the paper at him, again, even though she’s standing right in front of him.

“She rejected me.”

“Yea- wait, what?” Elle starts to celebrate, but stops at her words, “No she didn’t. Did we see different things?”

“It sure felt like rejection. Felt weird.”

“That was the perfect chance to ask her to go out after work or maybe on the weekend, but, in your defence, that’s a Derek-level response and we’re not quite there yet. Step three, go.”

Spencer unfolds the paper ball begrudgingly, wondering if any of this is actually worth it.

Step 3: Get JJ to back the fuck up.

Spencer laughs.

“Either you tell JJ you like her assistant and ask for her help, or you tell JJ you like her assistant and that she needs to stop using her so much.” Elle sounds matter-of-fact and confident.

“You want me to tell JJ to stop giving her assistant work?” Spencer asks, face scrunched.

With a shrug, Elle says, “Or you could ask her to help you. She knows the most about Y/N.”

Looking up to JJ’s office, he realises how true Elle’s statement is. JJ knows you better than anyone else here, you’ve quickly become good friends, and JJ wouldn’t lie to Spencer about you if it involved his feelings. He trusts JJ like that.

But then you throw your head back in laughter, a hearty laugh that JJ follows with her own tinkling chuckle, and Spencer is reminded of the sinking feeling he’s had when he’s been rejected before. The emotional slap in the face that causes you to lose all confidence. In his head, he rationalises that attempting to ask you out is pointless. You won’t like him, scrawny profiler who follows his team members like a lost puppy, the guy unable to maintain eye contact for more than four seconds. The logical side, however, the side that runs the show when Spencer is on a case and hides his feelings, tells him he has nothing to lose. Morgan would be proud of him, not ashamed, because Spencer had the guts to ask someone out – Spencer! Elle would understand and tell him something about learning for next time, and the rest of the team wouldn’t really care.

He has nothing to lose and everything to gain. A date with you? A relationship with you? That’d feel like winning the lottery. It feels more likely than winning the lottery, too.

Then Morgan walks past him, more like swaggers, all good looks and charm and everything Spencer doesn’t have.

Spencer decides he’ll save himself the rejection.

+++

JJ gets involved without Spencer realising. He connects the dots on the way back to Virginia, after a case in which you were brought along instead of JJ.

There was a “family emergency”, apparently, after the debrief and right before take-off. Although it wasn’t your first case, it was your first time travelling with the team. When you pad in, sparkling eyes gliding all around the jet, Spencer zeroes in on the gruesome scene photos to avoid being caught staring.

You fit into the role flawlessly. It’s like you were born for the part, effortlessly slipping into the job of communicator between the team and the police force, standing fearlessly in front of the press as they piled on the pressure.

In the conference room where the team set up, he noticed you actively try to stay out of the way whilst simultaneously help in any way you could. You offered coffee every two hours (Spencer counted), cleaned up any and all rubbish the team left around – burger wrappers, useless post-it notes – and mothered the team by reminding them they need breaks, too.

At the hotel, you jokingly poked Spencer in the shoulder and said, “No more coffee for you. You’ll get a sugar rush and won’t be able to sleep.”

“Like a toddler?”

“Exactly like a toddler. Straight to bed for you.”

You grinned at eachother before you separated to go to your rooms. Around three am, Spencer instinctively went to make himself a drink but stopped and thought of you. He decided for that night, just that night, he could get a somewhat decent amount of sleep.

Now, on the flight home, Gideon pauses before his move in their third game of chess to stare at something behind Spencer’s shoulder. When he notices, Spencer turns to see what has his mentor’s attention and stutters when it’s you. You, looking like you’re straight out of a cheesy romance movie when you push your hair back while reading your book.

Gideon switches from staring at you to staring at Spencer.

“She’s a pretty girl, huh?”

Spencer knows where this is going.

“Elle told me you’re sweet on her.”

“Elle shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Elle has been watching you two the entire case.”

“Elle-“

Gideon clears his throat, making Spencer finally make eye contact, “You scared? Worried?”

“About what?” Spencer asks.

“Rejection. If she’ll laugh in your face, say something about never wanting anyone like you.”

Sometimes, Spencer is terrified of Gideon’s ability to read people. He swears he has this inhuman ability to take a peek into people’s minds, read their most intrusive and negative thoughts, and confront them about them. Like he’s doing to Spencer now.

“Something like that, yeah,” Spencer murmurs. He shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, “It’s your move.”

“I know.” Gideon nods to you, making Spencer look again, “Don’t you think, in twenty years’ time, you’d want to look back at this moment and be glad you asked? No matter the outcome? Rather than wondering if she’d said yes, asking all kinds of what-ifs…”

“You’re telling me to ask her out?”

Gideon gives Spencer a smile that fills him with confidence. He doesn’t know what it is, but he trusts Gideon with his whole life. If he tells him to go for it, then he should go for it, right?

“I happen to know the Virginia museum is having a deal on tickets if you order them online. Might be something to look into.” He sounds borderline smug now.

With one last look to Gideon, he stands and slowly waddles to the chair opposite you.

“Mind if I sit?” He asks, a hand gently resting on the back of the empty seat. You startle slightly at the unexpected voice, but gesture for him to sit with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” You wonder, squinting slightly as the sun shines in your eyes. It makes them sparkle, and Spencer has never understood wanting to drown in someone’s eyes until that moment.

“Just glad the case is over. You did a great job, by the way, filling in for JJ last minute.” Spencer is surprised that his voice doesn’t crack or stop completely.

You beam at the praise, “Thank you. JJ’s got some big boots to fill, even if it’s for one case.”

He shrugs and pulls a face as if you’ve said something ridiculous, “Don’t sell yourself short. When she realises how good you are, she’ll start taking all kinds of holidays.” He jokes.

He can’t help but grin when you laugh.

Elle passes. In the very brief eye contact they make, Elle’s eyes are wide and jumping from you to Spencer, Spencer to you. She’s sending him a message, and he bets Gideon is watching, too.

“Hey,” He starts, leaning on the table between you. You instinctively lean closer, too, which Spencer takes as a positive sign, “How would you.. like…”

He has to take a second to inhale a shaky breath and nervously push his hair behind his ears. You wait, all patient and divine, and his eyes dash around your face.

“To go to the museum with me?”

It comes out rushed and you look confused. “Huh?”

Spencer tries again, after clearing his throat, “How would you like to go to the museum with me? When we get back. As a date.”

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“…Yes?”

If you weren’t staring directly at him, he’d think you were making fun of him and about to unleash a nice bout of rejection.

You move one hand to lean your face against, moving in a little closer, “I would love that.”

Spencer is speechless. You would love that?

“Oh- wow. Yeah, thanks. Good.”

Who says thanks when someone agrees to go on a date with them?

You giggle.

“We’ll plan when we get back?” You ask.

“Yes. Definitely.” He nods three times.

You can’t help but bite your lip, he’s too cute, and it immediately draws Spencer’s attention.

Behind you both, Gideon turns to Elle. “Success.”

Elle rolls her head against the back of her seat and stares out the window, “Step four: Get Gideon to get the job done.”

[potionsprefect]

One Split Second

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: An incident in the hospital sends shockwaves

Rating: T

Category: angst/trauma (but there’s a happy ending)

Victoria Clarke walked the corridors of Bloom Edenbrook, smiling to fellow doctors and nurses who were attending to patients. She headed over to the admin desk to pick up a new patient chart, having previously discharged her last one.

“Hi Ines. Any interesting cases come in today?” Victoria asked as she approached the doctor.

“Hiya Victoria. Take your pick. The sooner we discharge these patients, the better. How’s the wedding planning coming along?” Ines replied brightly.

“We’re getting there. These last few months are stressful making sure everything’s in order. I’ve already fallen out with my sister-in-law twice over my nieces bridesmaid dress.” Victoria sighed.

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. What was it over? Angie had a similar problem with hers and opted for none in the end!” Ines laughed slightly.

“I wanted my niece Isabella to wear a headband on the day but my sister-in-law disagreed saying she would find it itchy. She wanted her to wear a flower crown but I’m not a big fan of those. This was two weeks ago and we haven’t really spoken since.” Victoria sighed.

Victoria loved her sister in law Erin but she really wished she had listened to what she was trying to point out. Erin was adamant that Isabella wouldn’t wear the headband but Victoria had said she had worn them before. Erin said she knew her daughter best and that she wouldn’t wear one and Victoria couldn’t persuade her. They hadn’t spoken since.

“Oh I’m sorry. Nine times out of ten the stress leading up to a wedding is usually always something to do with bridesmaids. But all of that won’t spoil your big day! I’m so excited for you!”

“Thanks Ines.” Victoria smiled.

“Instead of taking your pick, I’ve got one case here for you.” Ines pointed to the whiteboard. “It’s just been assigned to you which I found a little strange but I guess it’s nothing abnormal. Here’s the chart.” Ines handed Victoria a standard looking chart.

“Thanks Ines” Victoria smiled as she walked off down the corridor and into the elevator to see the said patient.

Her route to the patients room took her past her fiancé’s office. She saw him through the window, working away at the laptop in front of him. Victoria made a mental note to go visit him once she has assessed her new patient.

Finding the correct room, Victoria opened the door and noticed the curtains were drawn around the bed.

“Mr Embleton?” Victoria pulled back the curtain and froze in her steps.

“Well well well. Hello Victoria. What a nice surprise seeing you here.” A young man smirked from his bedside.

“George Embleton?! What are you doing here?” Victoria stepped back.

“What does it look like I’m doing here? I’ve injured my leg. I need stitches.” George pointed to his leg. “And you’re going to be the one to do it.”

“Why me?”

“Because I said so.” George replied.

Victoria eyed the young man she had once been at school with. He had always been a nasty piece of work. What was he doing in Boston?

Victoria grabbed the suturing kit and pulled up a stool and set to work on stitching George’s leg. Victoria could just see out the corner of his eye him watching her, almost as if he was waiting for her to make a mistake.

“So what are you doing here in Boston?”

“A simple hello would’ve sufficed. But as you’re clearly so desperate, I’m here for a conference. Not that it’s any of your business.” George replied.

“Part of my job is to make conversation to keep the patients at ease, whether I know them or not is irrelevant.” Victoria replied not looking up from her work.

“You always were a mouthy little cow at school, shame your attitude hasn’t changed.”

“And you’re still treating me like you did all these years later. And for the record, the Wilkinson School of Dancing thought I was amazing, no matter what your little friends told you.” Victoria looked up at him.

“Keep telling yourself that Clarke, I’m not the one who fumbled up a big performance.” George shrugged.

“Only after you shouted out that you’d seen less fat on a piece of steak than my thighs.” Victoria said eyes burning with tears.

Dance used to be her life. She thought about becoming a professional dancer instead of a doctor but that one performance shattered her confidence that she never danced in front of an audience again.

“Wasn’t lying though was I?”

“Not even your friends could persuade you to dial it down a bit. Did someone hurt you in another life and you were reborn so you could be hellbent on getting revenge?” Victoria hit back. He wasn’t going to come here and terrorise her. Not now and not ever.

“Shut your mouth.” George snapped.

“Luckily for you I will. Because I’m done. I’ll get you your discharge paper and you can get the hell out of here so I never have to see your face again.” Victoria said standing up.

As Victoria turned her back, what she didn’t know was that George had a lighter in his hand and a cigarette in the other. She also didn’t notice when she originally walked into the room that he had an IV in his arm.

What happened next, seemed to happen in slow motion. George flicked the lighter and Victoria found herself thrown to the floor, her ears ringing, vision blurry, she could just about make out an orange flame before everything went black

— — — — —

Ethan headed down the stairs, a small spring in his step. Life really couldn’t be much better. He was about to marry the love of his life in a few months and he was looking forward to starting a new life with her.

“Doctor Ramsey!” A voice called behind him. Ethan turned round to see Sienna walking towards him, chart in hand.

“Doctor Trinh.” Ethan nodded as she came and stood next to him.

“I just wanted to check that you are ok. Victoria mentioned she was having a slight disagreement with her sister in law over wedding planning and I wanted to check that you’re not caught in the middle.”

“That’s very kind of you Sienna.” Ethan chuckled.

“Just trying to be a better person every chance I get.” Sienna shrugged.

“There’s a lot of people out in the world who would be grateful for you checking up on them. I am definitely one of them.” Ethan smiled.

“Thank you. So tell me. Has the storm weathered or are the clouds still rolling?” Sienna laughed a little.

“To be honest it’s just raining at this point. They haven’t spoken since but the storm clouds have evaporated. William and I are trying to make peace but Erin is standing firm by her decision.” Ethan sighed.

“I’m sure she’ll come around. It’s Victoria’s and your wedding in the end. What Victoria wants should be the final decision.” Sienna said.

“I hope so. I just don’t want that to overshadow the big day.”

“It won’t. All that matters that day is you two and your happiness. Besides, we’ve all been planning a special present for the two of you so even if the wedding goes wrong, you’ll have something to cheer you up.” Sienna laughed a little.

“Thanks Sienna, although I hope-“

BOOM!

The noise was deafening. Everyone within a few feet of the blast were thrown off their feet. Glass shattered everywhere and there was the smell of smoke and a bright orange flame.

Ethan lifted his head and saw others slowly getting to their feet. He looked round and saw Sienna lying a few feet away, covered in blood.

“Sienna! Are you okay?” Ethan moved over to her, helping her get to her feet.

“Yeah I think so. Is that blood?” She felt her forehead and felt something sticky. “Oh god.”

“Go and get yourself cleaned up.” Ethan said.

“No no I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” Sienna insisted. “Where did this explosion come from?”

“I don’t know. We need to open this door.” Ethan said.

He decided to break the door down not knowing what to expect behind it. Once he kicked the door off it’s hinges his heart stopped.

There on the floor, laid his beautiful fiancé. Ethan dropped to his knees and cradled her head in his hands, tears forming in his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Sienna cried. “I’ll go grab a gurney!” She hurried off and came back with two nurses who were pushing a gurney.

“Do blood work and get her vitals. And we need a head CT just to be sure.” Ethan barked as he picked up his soon to be bride and laid her gently on the gurney.

“Got it, we’ll look after her.” Sienna reassured him. She knew he wanted to stay but his anger was high. He needed to stay calm and seeing Victoria how she was wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Sienna-“

“No Ethan. She’ll be okay. She’s in safe hands. Help others who are injured and find out what the hell has happened.” Sienna instructed as she wheeled Victoria away to a trauma room.

Ethan watched her be wheeled away by the nurses, panic still rushing though his veins. His thoughts were interrupted by an object approaching him out the corner of his eye.

“I am here to help. Please do not interfere with my work.” Binx’s cheery voice echoed.

“Yes yes carry on you overgrown pile of nuisance.” Ethan huffed.

“You sound angry. I am trained to-“

Ethan punched him.

— — — — —

The bright lights were beginning to irritate her, voices swarmed around, not to mention the pounding as if someone was hitting her head with a hammer.

“I think she’s waking up!” A familiar voice said. Victoria opened her eyes to see a dozen pair of eyes looking down at her.

“Victoria? Can you hear me?” Sienna voice said.

“Yeah I... what happened?” Victoria said groggily.

“There was an explosion in one of the rooms. Luckily you’re not too badly injured.” Sienna replied.

“Shame about the other guy.” Jackie said.

“Other guy?” Victoria asked. Then it hit her. “Oh my god! My patient!” Victoria sat up.

“Woah Vic calm down! He’s okay. Well kind of. He wasn’t badly injured, but he was arrested.” Bryce said from the foot of the bed.

“What?!”

“Yeah it turns out the saline bags had ether in them, one spark and then everything just blew up. He apparently had a lighter in his pocket.” Elijah said.

“He said he knew you. Who was he?” Rafael asked from where he was sat.

“I... I went to school with him. He used to bully me relentless.” Victoria sighed.

“So how comes you were assigned to him?” Sienna asked.

“I may have an answer to that.” Jackie said. Everyone looked at her as she turned to Victoria, looking at her sympathetically. “You know the lab technician Eliza Fitzgerald? Turns out they’re cousins. She was the one who put the saline bags in even though he didn’t require them. And she put your name on the board at his request. They’re both in custody now.”

“But why?” Bryce said.

“Because he hates me. And he clearly wanted to step everything up a notch.” Victoria said tears rolling down her face.

“We’d never let anyone hurt you. You’ll always have us and Ethan.” Sienna put an arm around her.

“Speaking of Ethan why isn’t he round my bedside? And where’s Aurora?”

“Patching up your fiancées hand. He and Binx had an unfortunate encounter earlier.” Elijah chuckled.

“It was quite a sight to see.” Rafael laughed.

“He’s also barking out orders to the hospital board about employee safety. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Naveen look so wary of him.” Jackie said.

“I’ve made a mental note to never cross Ramsey’s path.” Bryce chuckled.

“I’ll page him, we’ll come by and see you tomorrow.” Sienna gave Victoria a hug. The rest of the group filtered out the room as Victoria gazed out into the dark sky, the city sparkling under the moonlight.

“You need to stop scaring me Rookie.” A voice suddenly said. Victoria looked towards the door to see her fiancée hurrying over to her bed, wrapping her up in his arms when he got close enough.

“I’m so sorry Ethan.” Victoria sighed leaning into his embrace.

“What on earth are you apologising for? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Ethan said kissing her cheek, running a hand through her hair. “Dr Varma explained everything to me.”

“I thought I could handle it. I had no idea what he was doing.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. He’s locked up, far away from you, he can’t hurt you again.”

“I know and I’m glad. Although from what I’ve heard, it sounds like I’m not the only one who ran into an old foe today.” Victoria chuckled slightly, picking up Ethan’s hand that was wrapped in a bandage and kissed it.

“That calculator made its final equation.” Ethan chuckled resting his chin on top of Victoria’s head.

“I wish I was there to see it.” Victoria smiled.

“You wouldn’t have stopped talking about it for weeks.”

“Of course. And I think everyone would be gossiping as well. I heard you went to the boards and gave them a tough time.”

“I did what I was obliged to do, not just as your fiancé but as your boss. Our doctors should be safe when they are in work, everything could’ve ended up so different tonight.” Ethan sighed.

“Luckily it didn’t.” Victoria smiled.

“Indeed. I love you, you know.” Ethan looked at her, cupping her face in his hands.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to marry you.” Victoria smiled.

“And I can’t wait to marry you.” Ethan smiled kissing her passionately. The two began to lose themselves in each other’s kiss before the vibrating of a phone forced them to break apart.

“Who’s that?” Ethan kissed her cheek, nuzzling his nose there.

“It’s Erin.” Victoria said confused. “You were right, I’m sorry.” She looked at Ethan.

“Sounds like she’s willing to compromise about the headband.” Ethan chuckled tightening his arms around her.

“Sounds like she is.” Victoria stared at her phone.

“Come on, you need sleep.” Ethan took her phone and put it away and forced Victoria to lie down before he laid down next to her.

“Are you staying the night?” Victoria looked up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ethan replied.

“Good. I want a cuddle.”

“You always want a cuddle.”

“You give the best cuddles, I always want more.”

The couple drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

— — — — —

Well that was a ride! But we love a happy ending!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged

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[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. iv

→ one | two | three

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part four / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 3,118

☾iv.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾iv. part iv: the mafia(1/2)

The ambience within the car was calm, or at least a calm for the situation at hand. 

Sayomi was curious about what kind of job she was being forced into, but at the same time, she wanted to maintain her composed facade by staying quiet.

She decided to start with a subtle question. “So… who exactly are you guys anyway?”

The man seated next to her answered without an ounce of hesitation, “The mafia.”

Well, shit. So much for a subtle question.

Sayomi was thrown off by the man’s response for the first time since they’d showed up.

The mafia… what would they want with a nobody from Meteor City? 

Her parents had often spoken of the Mafia. They had a reputation of harboring no-name assassins who’d overrun the market with their skill and mass numbers. 

No names… Mother once said that the most notorious criminals hailed from the dumps in Meteor City. Because… their records didn’t exist! They couldn’t be traced, but I wasn’t born there. Do they know that?

Sayomi was on edge now, having a vague idea of what they might be planning to do with her. “What, am I gonna be one of the Mafia’s little assassins now?”

The man smirked at her quick deduction abilities. “You’re a bright one I see, Sayomi Zoldyck.” His tone had roughed up at her last name.

He knows. 

“Well, seeing that you know who I am. You should also be aware that my family would never let me work for another group, right?”

He moved in his seat, turning to face her slightly as he sensed a long conversation. “And that’s why they left you here? Because they care about you?”

She grimaced at the hard truth behind his words.

In an attempt to hide her deflating ego, she replied an icy tone, “Don’t make assumptions. You people know nothing about my family.”

The man let out a monotonous laugh. “Ms Zoldyck, I’m not trying to start a fight here. We didn’t take you to use against your family or anything of that sort. We simply came to recruit our next line of assassins...  and what a coincidence! The family we were following called one day to say they had a proposal for us, and that’s where you came in. It was just the luck of our draw that you happened to stumble upon the exact family of who would’ve been our next assassin.”

Ayame. 

The man continued, “So please, rest assured we will not attempt to harm you or notify your family of your whereabouts. That would only be bad for both of us, correct?”

Sayomi nodded in defeat. She hadn’t stopped to think about the possibilities of her captors being a group so far up the food chain.

It’s true I don’t exactly want to go back home anyway. Maybe I’ll stick around and see what happens.

Sayomi closed her eyes as she leaned up against the cool glass of the window. Her head was throbbing from the sudden onset of overwhelming information, and all she wanted now was to let herself drift off into sleep.

Noting the lack of words from the teen beside him, the man made quiet movements to revert back to his original position, opting to stare out the window as the remainder of the car ride went without another word.

Deep in her dreams, Sayomi felt an emotion she hadn’t experienced since she was abandoned. 

Happiness.

☾ iv.

Inside Sayomi’s dreams.

Sayomi looked down at herself to see she was wearing the kimono she had on the day her mother left her. There’s no way it could still fit her now, having grown almost half a foot, but there she was.

Fine, black silk ran elegantly down her shoulders, arms, and body. The silver accents shone like moonlight reflecting off of her form, while a shocking violet color made up the wrap around her waist.

“Sayomi! Get your head out of the clouds! If I beat you this time I’m taking your new daggers!”

Her head whipped up at the familiar squeaky voice. “Illumi?” she mumbled.

At the sound of his name, the boy turned back towards her, mid-run. The wide smile on his face was replaced by a frown as he noticed Sayomi’s perplexed expression.

Sayomi said nothing, however, only running towards her twin as she reached out to envelop her ever 10 year old brother in a hug.

But upon contact with Illumi, he vanished into thin air, taking the familiar scene of the courtyard away with him.

In a split second, she was back in Meteor City. 

Sayomi blinked twice before slumping down into the sickening piles of junk and filth, sobbing as the absence of her other half sparked her back into reality.

“Ms Zoldyck”, a man’s voice echoed through her dreams.

“Ms Zoldyck”, once again and she opened her eyes-

☾ iv.

Sayomi blinked several times, spotting the reflection of herself slumped against the car door in the window. 

It was much brighter now, the sun having risen far overhead while she had been asleep.

She squinted at the scenery whizzing by outside the window, sighing in defeat when she failed to recognize her new surroundings.

“Good Morning Ms Zoldyck. We have about a half an hour left to our destination.” 

Bidding a slurred ‘good morning’ to the voice in return as she stretched her limbs, a weight dropped in her chest as she remembered why she was here.

Making use of the time left before her arrival, Sayomi attempted to wake herself further as she mentally prepared for the events to come.

15 more minutes in, and the nature that made up the scenery outside began to clear as Yorknew City came into view.

Worries aside, Sayomi stared at the rapidly approaching city in awe. She had yet to have visited Yorknew City, as her parents had felt she wasn’t ready for the big jobs yet. 

But now she faced the megacity at last. She couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought of being in the bustling city of Yorknew on her own.

She was like a teenager who had snuck out to the mall while her parents were at work. 

There was something so exhilarating about going against her parents’ words, even if it was unintentional. In the back of her mind, she felt crazy for cracking a smile in the situation she was in, but the 16 year old side of her ignored it as she let herself enjoy the moment.

Maybe this won’t be as bad as I thought.

☾ iv.

Arriving at their destination, the three black cars pulled up in front of a luxurious hotel.

Sayomi looked up at the building in awe, her breath fogging up the glass as she gaped at the forever extending floors of the hotel.

The driver of her designated car stepped out, followed by the man on her left. 

Rounding about the back of the car, the man opened the door on Sayomi’s side, gesturing for her to exit the vehicle.

She quickly obliged, slinging her katana over her shoulder as the men from the other two cars accompanied her into the lobby.

Sayomi was once again awestruck by the interior of the hotel, everything around her seeming to scream ‘high-class’ and ‘wealthy’. It was a stark contrast to the rags she wore, having no other clothes besides the now tiny kimono she’d left back at Meteor City.

Although the mansion was without a doubt far larger and much pricier than the hotel in which she stood, Sayomi was mesmerized by the people, walking around or sitting in groups, their friendly bonds shining through the crowds.

Back at home, Sayomi’s only ‘friends’ had been Illumi and the butlers. She had yet to experience what it was like to have real friends, her parents seeing them only as a distraction to her job.

She was pulled away from her thoughts as one of the men nudged her to keep walking, the group making their way to the elevators. 

Stopping in midway through the hall in wait of an elevator, the man who had been sitting next Sayomi in the car spoke up, “Welcome to your new temporary home, Ms Zoldyck.”

Home? I get to stay in this classy hotel? 

The man broke through her thoughts once again, “As I told you before, as long as you behave and prove to be a valuable asset to us, we will treat you with the utmost respect.”

Sayomi made brief eye contact with the man, still wary of the offputting kindness they were showing her. Nevertheless, she nodded, not wanting to ruin the rare opportunity.

A loud ding signified the arrival of their elevator, and the same man accompanied Sayomi into the elevator, the rest of the members turning to head back out of the building. 

Inside the elevator, the man held two buttons down at the same time, the top two floors: 49 and 50. Sayomi tilted her head, curious of the maneuver. “Why two floors?” she asked.

The man looked over his shoulder at her, raising his eyebrows at her question.

“It’s a secret floor. For the Mafia and our hired assassins. Just above the 50th floor.”

Sayomi’s mouth formed a round O, clearly impressed by the revelation of a secret floor. Just how influential are these people? They have their own floor and everything.

The two of them waited in silence for the remainder of the time, only moving when the elevator arrived at their floor. 

Sayomi followed the man out into the hallway ahead, mindlessly reading the different room numbers as they passed her by. 5102… 5104… 5106… 5108-

“Alright Ms Zoldyck, this will be your room for the time being. Inside you’ll find a uniform along with any other supplies you’ll be needing while we’re here. I’ll come back in about half an hour to get you started on the job, so in the meantime please change into the uniform and get settled.” And with that, the man handed Sayomi a room key while explaining how the elevators were locked, meaning she couldn’t escape.

Accepting the room key, Sayomi hummed in agreement before entering her new room.

Room # 5110

Two steps into the room, her heart raced with excitement at the view in front of her. 

The room itself wasn’t the impressive part, being a small square with a bed and bathroom. It was the view from the large window in front of her that made her exclaim in delight.

Having grown up on Kukuroo mountain with only the occasional trip to the outside world, the vast city and its bustling streets made Sayomi swoon, her heart restless for a chance to explore the beautiful city.

Noticing the uniform hanging in the closet as mentioned, Sayomi made quick work to change into the fresh set of clothes, ditching her rags.

It was a classic black suit with black dress shoes, matching the clothes of the men that had accompanied her here from Meteor City. The change in outfits restricted the usual placement of her band of needles, and she opted to tuck the band into her pocket instead. 

A knock on her door interrupted the silence, as the man asked through the door if she was ready to begin the job.

She replied with a “yes”, moving to sling her katana over her shoulder as she exited the room.

☾ iv.

“When we don’t have specific targets for you, this will be your job.” the man started to say.

Sayomi stared at the walkie talkie now in her hands. 

“You’ll be staged as a bodyguard for the VIPs that visit the hotel. It’s nothing hard, just a deal we keep with the management to keep our floor up here a secret” he continued.

She nodded in understanding. A bodyguard, huh. Maybe I’ll at least get some action this way.

“Ah, right. The walkie talkie I gave you will notify you of incoming VIP clients. All you have to do is accompany them with your assigned team to their room, where you’ll stand guard either inside or outside. 50 percent of the time the VIP will have a few assassins after them, but the other 50 percent stay and go with no problems.” He started walking back up the hall to the elevators.

Sayomi followed closely behind, asking a question once she stepped into the elevator. “For those 50 percent- the ones targeted by assassins, I mean. Is it fair game to kill their attackers?”

The man laughed out loud. “But of course, disposing of any attackers would only mean a safer client. Do as you wish as long as the VIP’s safety is ensured.”

The assassin blood that ran through Sayomi’s veins was bleeding through. It seemed her inevitable instinct to kill would always resurface, no matter how sympathetic or innocent she tried to become.

Back down at the hotel’s lobby once again, Sayomi now blended in with the numerous other bodyguards dressed in black suits. 

Sayomi’s escort pointed towards the main entrance of the hotel. “Ms Zoldyck, you’ll be stationed with Team 3 over by the fountain right outside. Introduce yourself or don’t, just stand posted until your team is dispatched through the walkie talkies.”

Before she could even respond, the man took off walking back to the elevators, leaving Sayomi to find her way to her post.

Wow, alright then.

Sneering at the man’s abrupt exit, Sayomi tied back her hair, taking a second to compose herself before walking out to the fountain to join her team.

Finding the line of bodyguards quite literally stationed in front of the fountain, the man’s instructions echoed in her head as she decided on the latter, keeping from introducing herself.

The team now had 6 members with the addition of Sayomi, and the others took a moment to size up their new member.

Sayomi did likewise, glancing down the row of suit-clad bodyguards. There were 4 men and 1 other woman, all of them looking to be around their mid-20s. 

Talk about a let down, they’re all at best D-ranked assassins.

Unimpressed at the lack of powerful auras amongst her new allies, Sayomi’s shoulders slumped as she turned to face the busy street with a lack of enthusiasm.

Figuring out a way to pass the time, Sayomi settled for analyzing the hundreds of people that walked by. She was curious about the so-called urban culture she had heard so much about from Ayame back in Meteor City.

Though Sayomi wasn’t completely detached from society, she had still spent a large portion of her life either trapped in the mansion or, recently, in Meteor City. This being, she was fascinated by the little things, such as the different types of clothing people in the city wore, or the billboards and neon signs that began to light up the streets as evening fell upon Yorknew City. 

I wonder what I’d look like if I wore a dress like that… nah but it’s probably impossible to run in anyway.

Looking down at the modest outfit she wore and back to the woman passing by wearing a rather revealing dress, she pouted. 

It must be nice to be able to enjoy the nightlife in a city like this. Maybe when i’m older-

The static sounds of her team’s walkie talkies cut through her thoughts, finally dispatching their assignment for the next few days.

“Team 3. VIP client Adachi Yuto is arriving in less than one minute. The vehicle is a black Maserati and the assigned room will be 4823. Current stay will be 3 days.” 

In unison, Sayomi and the rest of the team straightened their postures, now on alert while they awaited the VIP’s arrival.

Right on time at about a minute later, a black Maserati pulled up to the curb in front of the team. A few of the members began walking towards the car, and the rest including Sayomi followed suit.

The driver opened the door to the backseat in front of them, and a man looking to be in his early 20s stepped out, thanking the driver. 

Must be the VIP.

Her fellow bodyguards started to move almost automatically, forming a circle around the young man. Sayomi quickly found her spot in the formation, walking behind the VIPs right side as the group made their way into the hotel.

Her team seemed to be far experienced, as they walked straight to the elevators without another word or break in formation. It was a silent trip up to floor 48, the VIP remaining occupied on his phone for the entirety of the ride.

Once arriving at room 4823, one of the bodyguards finally spoke, addressing the VIP. “Mr. Yuto, would you like any of us to accompany you inside?”

The VIP politely declined, only looking up from his phone to briefly thank the team for their hard work.

With the VIP turning in for the night, the 3 day timer began for the team. They would take turns in pairs, staying posted outside the VIP’s room, the others going to get rest before switching in once again. 

One of the men volunteered to take the first shift, along with the other woman in group, leaving the rest of them to rest until their shifts came around. 

Sayomi was paired with one of the remaining men to take the next shift. He was a stocky, sturdy-looking man, most likely one of the older members of the group from the signs of age evident in his facial features. 

Agreeing to come back around to the post 15 minutes prior to their shift, the two returned to their rooms on the 51st floor.

☾ iv.

Sayomi flopped down onto her bed upon returning to her room.

Man, this job is getting boring already. 

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she decided to get some rest while she could. She had about 4 hours until the shift change, her break being in the most inconvenient time frame. 

Sayomi’s shift would be in the dead of night, from 1 am to 5 am. 

Not bothering to move underneath the blankets or even untie her hair, Sayomi fell into a deep sleep with her legs dangling off the side of the bed. Her mind and body were both exhausted from the day’s past events, and all she wanted now was to move on from what’d already occurred. 

Because the past isn’t important… right?

That’s what she chose to believe for now, but she also knew in the back of her mind that sooner or later the past would come back and find her. 

☾ iv.

to be continued.

a/n: my taglist is open!

[taeyohonic]

stolen dances | chap. III

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 1300

links: prologue, chap. I, chap. II, chap. III, chap. IV, chap. V

note: lower case letters intended

“i did nothing wrong”, jungkook whines in your direction as you sip on the just creamy enough pina colada in your hands. your best friend is glowing in the tropical sun. the both of you are spread across loungers with your feet brushing against hot sand.

“you are so wrong it hurts”, you snort and look at his skin. he gets tanned so easily, you think in envy. you arrived two days ago – a long weekend made your last-minute escape possible. that and jungkook’s private jet at your disposal. you can hear taehyung and jimin arguing in the water, their bare chests pushed against each other in mocked hostility.

“cut it out”, seokjin shouts from the shore. the boys are as chaotic as every and even after all the practice juggling elementary school students daily, their boastful energy still overwhelms you. so much so that you don’t notice how jungkook gets up and moves closer to you. without asking – as if he ever does – your best friend snatches your drink.

“hey”, you complain and try to push him away. but he is too close too fast, his skin smells like summer and you can’t bring yourself to touch him. the man in question looks at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly confused by the missing repercussion. you normally fight harder for your alcohol.

“tell me what i did wrong, ____”, he orders you and presses the chilled cocktail glass against your warm arm. you flinch at the contrast – the drops of condense water too cold for your body.

with your eyes fixed on the tiniest scar high up his cheek, you answer his question.

“jungkook, you flew away… invited your friends… and not your fiancée.” you don’t know why you have to spell it out to him, but he still seems clueless.

“she has an important meeting tomorrow. there is no way she could have just packed her bags for a weekend get-away”, he sounds more like a son defending himself to his mother than a fully grown man.

“so, why didn’t you ask her? a question doesn’t hurt. and… it shows her that you care.”

jungkook shakes is head in frustration; you just won’t understand him, you are not even trying to see this from his perspective.

“but i did request that it’s added to her calendar… that’s basically asking.”

you wrinkle your forehead in confusion. wait… no, he didn’t, did he?

“jungkook, did you… did you talk to her assistant rather than her in person?”, you ask in astonishment. your friend looks at you like you’ve swallowed a jellyfish in front of him.

“i had to know her schedule, ____. it’s only logical for my secretary to call hers.”

yeah, sometimes you are glad that you’ve buried your crush under layers upon layers of repression. jungkook is a lousy fiancé.

“you… this is unbelievable... i ca-“

before you can finish your rant, there is a cold, wet body pressed against your back. you hiss in surprise, clearly not expecting taehyung to sneak up on you like that. his dripping hair is tickling your neck and you shiver at the closeness of jungkook’s friend.

taehyung begins to rub soothing circles across your bare arms, still caging your body. jungkook’s stare is fixated on your neck, a thoughtful expression on his face as he watches the wet hair brushing against your skin.

“what’s unbelievable, honey?”, he asks and inserts himself in your conversation casually. jungkook huffs at the nickname. he will regret till the end of days that he introduced you to his former bandmates and close friends during a pancake brunch.

not only that you chugged a whole jar of honey as a dare from seokjin, no, jimin ate so many pancakes that day, it made him throw up all afternoon… in jungkook’s bathroom. the things he had to see… just because he presented a new… important person to them.

“jungkook letting his assistant tell her assistant that he’s going on vacation instead of… just calling her himself”, you answer him and look at your best friend. he has the decency to look ashamed, but taehyung just chuckles in responds.

“honey, that’s how it works.”

“thank you, new best friend!”, jungkook exclaims and points at the male hidden behind you. “thank you for understanding.”

you shake your head at both of them. “you both have no clue how a relationship works.”

with some effort you escape taehyung’s hold and get up from your lounger. jungkook looks the tiniest bit wounded at your words.

“you said she has a big presentation tomorrow, right?”, you ask him, more for show than for clarification. he nods wordlessly. “so, maybe she is nervous, overworked… or i don’t know... doubting herself. maybe she wants to practice her speech… for the millionth time. maybe she is biting her nails right at this moment… and maybe… she needs someone with her – because she can’t go on a vacation.”

both former idols watch your rant with wonder in their eyes. are you crossing a line here?

“just – whatever. if you business people do relationships like a transaction, then… be my guest. but her texting you that you did something wrong? that tells me she’s hurt, jeon.”

ouch, his family name does the job and your friend flinches under your stare.

“what kind of vibe is this here?”, jimin snorts and drabs one arm around your shoulder. him and seokjin just arrived at the lounge. taehyung clicks his tongue before answering.

“well, honey just told us we will never be good enough for her”, he summarizes. “we’re just mourning all the never born children we could have had.”

you laugh at his audacity and slap the back of his head. jungkook doesn’t respond, or move for that matter. he seems deep in thoughts.

“so… my chances just got better?”, seokjin asks and some of the tension leaves the air as everybody groans.

“come on, old man, let’s make some sandwiches”, jimin says and collects the oldest still chuckling at their banter.

“take me with you!”, taehyung pleads and gets up as well, “my drink is empty, and i’m not drunk enough to reflect honey’s relationship advice.”

soon, there is just you and jungkook, him still in his own head. you sit down next to him; now regretting your harsh words. why do you have this weird masochistic reflex to insert yourself in his relationship?

“hey”, you say and bump his shoulder with your own. there is an honest smile on your lips, which jungkook reciprocates after a beat. “hey”

“i didn’t want to be mean”, you apologize, “just, forget what i’ve said. i have no idea what i’m talking about.”

you really don’t. relationships only exist as a thought in your mind; your experience is so limited, it’s laughable that you are even trying to give advice. your friend squeezes your shoulder silently. there is a long moment without spoken words, only his touch.

“please, don’t have seokjin’s kids”, jungkook says and you snort very unlady-like.

*

that night, jungkook takes is private jet and flies back to seoul. he just makes it in time to see his fiancée before her presentation. there is not even a note left for the rest of you, now without transportation. seokjin calls in a few favors. still, you don’t make it in time for your session with yoongi. his disappointment only grows when he sees the faint taint on your summer kissed skin.

damn you, jeon jungkook.

__

hey! thank you so much for reading! I’ve had a bad day and needed something to lift me up! Hope you guys enjoyed this; please let me know if you did!

All the love and happy thoughts to you from, dana

taglist: @livewittykid​ @thequeen-kat​