#so rounded spine. are we envisioning.

[lovelaceisntdead]

I don't think I will be able to sleep tonight if I do not figure out what to do for Mabel cover.

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Elriel Rating: E Tags: Canon Divergence - ACOMAF, Accidental Courtship, Secret Marriage/Elopement, Human/Fae Relationship, Smut, Fluff, Angst Word Count: 2.3k Summary: After learning of her younger sister's fate Under the Mountain, Elain Archeron struggled to envision her future as the lady of the Nolan estate. Sometimes, when she woke in the night and the iron band of her engagement ring was cold as ice on her finger, she knew only dread. She had no such trouble with the fearsome Fae male who made a habit of checking on her nearly every day. It might have been some trick, a faerie enchantment or thrall, but falling in love with him was the easiest thing she ever did.

Part two of my @acotargiftexchange present for @ultadverb.

Read this fic on AO3 here!

Elain Archeron tread lightly over the thin blanket of snow covering her garden, inspecting the tarps covering her roses and checking for animal tracks. Every few steps, she felt the prickle of something—magic, eyes, or perhaps some sort of dark intent—latch onto her. Such had been the case for several days now, since Feyre and her cadre of Fae warriors had returned to Prythian and left silent, unseen sentries in their place.

Usually, the thought of them unnerved Elain. Men—males—that she didn’t know and that her father hadn’t vetted, standing watch outside of a house where she and Nesta were alone and defenseless…

Even if she had decided to crack on with her life and pretend they weren’t there, it was still enough to send shivers up her spine sometimes.

But today was different. The shadows beneath the arched lattice where she planned to grow beans in the spring were especially dark, and Elain recognized the way that darkness moved, she thought.

She hoped.

She’d only seen them once before, the morning after Feyre had shown up on their doorstep as a High Fae, but they made an impression, like those curling wisps of darkness unlocked some long-forgotten dream in a chamber deep in the far recesses of her mind. It was a strange feeling, but it happened often enough—when she stirred bones to make watery broth in their old iron pot or watched Nesta chop wood with murderous intent or followed the line of Feyre’s brush as she painted flowers on their stained, pocked table—that Elain hardly found it discomfiting anymore.

More often than not, on days like today, she decided to let that feeling lead her, to let the swirling eddies of it take her by the hand and spin her into its dance.

So she said to the thin layer of frost atop the birdbath beside the arch when she finished her rounds, “It’s still so cold for this time of year, isn’t it?” 

No answer.

It took all her courage to lift her chin and continue. “Would you like to come in for tea?”

Then—there. 

The shadows barely moved, save for a subtle shift in the darkness, as if a cloud drifted in front of the sun.

“We dismissed the servants,” she said to them quickly, “in case you’re worried about being seen.”

The silence stretched, and Elain felt foolish. Maybe she had simply begun to see things since the return of the Fae and their magic into her life. Maybe her head was rather stubbornly floating amongst the clouds, like Nesta sometimes snapped at her.

Still, the sight of those shadows made her think of her little sister. Elain’s throat tightened at the thought, as it always did these days—Feyre dying, Feyre alone, Feyre losing her storybook ending—so she clenched her fists beneath her cloak, taking a deep breath.

Once more. She would try once more.

“Please? I would like to know if my sister is well.”

The shadows shifted again, and snow crunched almost imperceptibly.

Step.

Step.

Step.

The Fae male that stepped into the light was just as tall and just as intimidating as he had been the first time she met him, those massive, talon-tipped wings looming high above his head, but his eyes… Those lovely green-and-gold eyes were still gentle when he looked at her. And his cheeks, a warm shade of brown in the sunlight, were flushed with the cold.

Azriel. 

What a strange name, foreign and sharply edged, and yet… it still rolled gently off the tongue. Either way, it was one she would be hard-pressed to ever forget.

He gave her a polite smile, and it was almost easy to ignore the brutal leather armor he wore, the hilt of the sword over his shoulder, the knife sheathed at his side.

Elain had to work to keep her shoulders from falling with relief, though she did catch herself twisting her engagement ring round and round on her finger. “Thank you.”

He nodded, his eyes peering through the blinding winter sunshine toward the house. “Of course.”

Elain didn’t waste time, leading him back through the garden quickly. He might disappear, she feared, if she dallied too long. 

"I assume you're here to check on the sentries?"

He nodded again and remained silent as she led the way through the garden, save for a quiet, “You’re welcome,” when she thanked him for holding the door to the servant’s entrance open for her.

It was a good thing Nesta was in the village, keeping up appearances and running the various wedding-planning errands she had taken over since they dismissed the butler and the housekeeper. Not just because Elain was inviting a faerie back into their home, but because the kettle on the stove was already screeching shrilly. It had been for some time, judging by the thick condensation coating the little stained-glass panel on the wall behind the range.

She waved at the chairs set along the wooden workbench that dominated the room. “Please, sit.” 

Silence prevailed as Elain warmed the china teapot and filled it with boiling water, found the tin she wanted and measured out enough leaves for two, and pushed herself onto her toes to coax another teacup off the high shelf in the cupboard.  

Azriel waited until she had everything she needed on a tray, sugar and milk and tea and yesterday’s misshapen and slightly undercooked biscuits, and slid it onto the workbench.

Elain slid into her seat. “My sister?” 

He seemed to weigh each word before he said, “Your sister is doing well. She’s settling in nicely in the Night Court. She trains with Cassian every morning, and she’s getting stronger.”

“Training?” She set a cup and saucer before him, ignoring the spike of anxiety she felt. Another meal with the Fae, not one week after the first—Nesta could never know. “To fight, or to use… magic?” 

“Both. She’s powerful.” Azriel didn’t hesitate this time, but Elain got the sense that he was not entirely sure he should share so much with her. Nevertheless, his lips quirked, and he said softly, “She got quite the hit on our High Lord yesterday morning. Straight to the jaw. I have no doubt she’ll soon be able to lay us all out.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Elain said, but she wasn’t sure of the truth of those words. “And she’s comfortable? I’m not quite sure what her arrangements are now, but if there are any expenses we could help her cover… food, housing, that sort of thing…?”

Her heart ached at the thought of Feyre beyond the Wall. It was bad enough the first time her sister was taken and terrifying the second time Feyre went and sent no word, but now… Now, Feyre was High Fae, and she truly belonged in the half of the world where Elain could no longer reach her. 

And if war was on Prythian’s horizon, and Feyre was still tangled up with High Lords, Elain was certain that she would need funds of her own.

There was little she could do for her sister now, and too little she had done in the past, but money was the one thing she had in abundance. It hadn’t occurred to her during Feyre’s first visit, but once the shock had worn off, the worry that Feyre was going hungry again had gnawed at her gut.

“That won’t be necessary. She makes a generous salary as a member of our court, and I believe she’s comfortable in her current accommodations as well.” When Elain nodded, Azriel cast a glance around the kitchen—empty, but for the two of them. “You dismissed your servants?”

The warmth on Elain’s cheeks had nothing to do with her embarrassment at the way he looked at her lumpy little cookies. “Yes. The household staff, at least, not the groundskeeper or the stablehands. I— We just thought that if we’re going to get more Fae visitors, it would be dangerous for them to be here. If they saw us with you, or if someone from the village saw them with any of you. Well.”

Azriel only nodded. “That’s smart.”

“I hope so,” was all Elain could say.

Deciding the tea had steeped long enough, she distracted herself by pouring his cup and then her own. To her surprise, he nodded when she held a sugar cube out for him… and nodded twice more when she returned the tongs to the small bowl of them. On the fourth cube, she let out a breath, reluctant to add more and ruin the tea.

Those hazel eyes glittered with amusement, and Azriel ducked his head as he reached for a spoon to stir the sugar into his tea. His hands—Elain didn’t dare look too long.

“Too much?”

The clear humor in his voice startled a laugh out of her. “Perhaps. This blend is quite subtle. I would hate for a sweet tooth to ruin the experience.”

A handsome little smile bloomed on his lips, and for a moment, Elain wanted to pretend he wasn’t Fae, wasn’t an ancient warrior of legend, wasn’t a male alone in a room with an engaged, unchaperoned woman.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he warned her, the shadows curling around the tops of his wings. They looked almost playful, if ephemeral strands of magical darkness could be such a thing. “It’s my best kept secret.”

Funny—he was funny, too, albeit in a rather dry way. Elain added it to her small mental tally of things she’d learned about the male who was spending so much time with Feyre. She wondered if he was Feyre’s friend—if, indeed, she had any friends in her new court, or if these males were all just colleagues.

Or perhaps allies was a better word.

Azriel, as if he could see her thoughts, lifted an inquisitive brow. “You have another question.”

“I do,” she hedged. The shadows beneath his cup stretched, she noticed, clinging to him like spiderwebs as he lifted it to his lips.

She let her eyes flick toward the gleaming talons on his wings and then averted her gaze to her own cup, untainted by sugar or milk, and curled her cold fingers around it. The dark band of her ring…

She twisted her hand so she didn’t have to look at it. She didn’t want to think of Lord Nolan’s wall or his ash groves or the pointed way Feyre had held her hand with her strange, elongated fingers, whispering a reminder to her, when they said goodbye.

“About flying?”

“Is it that obvious?” she lied. “Did you fly all the way from the Night Court? It’s quite a distance.”

“I could have, but this time I winnowed to the Wall and flew the rest of the way.” 

Elain tried not to feel too ignorant as she asked, “‘Winnowed’?”

 “Another form of magical travel. We can travel great distances in just one or two steps. Like walking, but you take a step from one point on a map and your foot lands on another. Rhysand says it is like folding the fabric of the world together to join two points, for most—”

Her heart leapt again as a shadow swept down to his ear, and the skin around his eyes went tight as if it were whispering something to him. Seconds later, a clamor echoed down the stairwell, the front door creaking open and footsteps clicking across the foyer. 

“Oh! That will be Nesta…” Azriel rose from his seat, but Elain waved him back down. “No, no, stay. Who knows how long you were out there. I’ll just go… head her off. Please, finish your tea.”

She sent a mournful glance at her own cup, still too warm to sip comfortably, and hurried for the stairs. It was only on the third or fourth step that she remembered her manners and spun on her toes to look back at him.

“You know, you’re always welcome to come inside. The range is usually lit, and it’s so cold out there...” Her voice was near to a whisper, her face freshly warm. “I just might try to avoid Nesta, if you could.”

Azriel blinked at her, and then his head tilted. 

The shadows rippled again in a way that reminded Elain of laughter, but the pull at one corner of his lips… That seemed more like curiosity, assessment.

“And when it isn’t cold anymore?”

“You’d still be welcome.” Dangerous—such dangerous words to say to the Fae, but they had been instinctive, natural, and Elain decided right then that she wouldn’t mind seeing more of Azriel.

That she wouldn’t be frightened if he returned again.

The footsteps drew nearer to the stairs, and Azriel merely lifted a hand, curling it into a fist over his heart, and dipped his head in a silent, solemn show of gratitude. 

Elain nodded back.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Nesta was perched on the edge of a bench in the foyer, removing snow-crusted boots. Her eyes were narrowed. “Elain? Were you talking to someone?”

“Just myself. I was sorting through the seeds I harvested in the fall.”

Her sister sighed, but relented easily. Elain let out a breath—one of relief, more than anything. She closed the door into the servant’s staircase tightly behind herself.

“Come, then. We need to get dressed if we’re going to dine with Graysen and Lord Nolan tonight. I told Zakary to wait for us outside with the carriage.”

The excitement she usually felt at the mention of her fiance was tainted by a sick curl of dread. “Yes, Nesta.”

Nesta stood and smoothed a hand over Elain’s hair as she passed. “Hurry and I’ll help you with your hair, frizzy.”

I hadn’t noticed the pearl-and-diamond ring on her finger, the dark metal band glinting in the firelight. Elain’s face was pale, though, as she looked at it. - ACOMAF, Chapter 23

Elain said, “It’s all very disorienting.” “I can imagine,” Azriel said... [His] attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face. Her shoulders loosened a bit. I wondered if Rhys’s spymaster often got his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadows.

Rhys explained to me, "...I’m taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring.” Elain flushed a bit. - ACOMAF, Chapter 24

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

In the Dark of the Night

Summary: From the world of Multitudes (can mostly be read as a standalone smutfest though). Clint and Buck can’t remember the last time they had some time alone, so decide to go camping for a night and get away from the pressures of parenthood. The usual sexytimes ensue.

Prompts fulfilled: ‘Bigger is Better in Bed’ – Multifandom Flash (Beehive); ‘Skinny Dipping’ and ‘Camping’ – Marvel Rare Pair Round 3; ’27. Outdoor Event’ – Flufftober; ‘Sex Toys’ – Build a Bucky Bingo; ’13. Restraints’ – Whumpcember.

CW: All the sex. Only a shade short of PWP. Check it out on AO3 here or below the cut with the cards!

“This is harder than I remember,” Clint grumbled, fighting with a metal pole, his brow furrowed in frustration. I couldn’t help but grin, reclined with my feet up on a cooler, sipping at a bottle of beer. ‘Are you sure you don’t want any help?’ I offered again when his eyes were pointed toward me, the bottle between my knees to sign one-handed. We were both still adjusting somewhat to the realities of living without our aids that made us seem ‘normal’ to the wider society – but we were both also happier without them. Clint’s headaches were all but none-existent, and the pain in my shoulder was significantly reduced without the constant muscle engagement. We were both less grumpy, better fathers and husbands than we’d ever envisioned ourselves being. But, coming up to the third anniversary of our first date, we’d realised it’d been a very long time since we’d had any time just the two of us. With two kids under three and five (six, in Clint’s case) other partners to keep amused, there just weren’t enough hours in the day – not to mention our residual Avenger duties, and taking the kids to the compound to keep the team happy. But here we were, in the middle of the National Park – no more than an hour away from home, just in case – with a tent, a cooler full of beers… And a bag I’d kept from Clint’s eyes, packed with things to make our evening more entertaining. “Do you think they’re doing okay?” he mused as he finally maneuvered the poles into place, frowning minutely. I stood to wrap my arm around his waist, my chin finding his shoulder. ‘They’re absolutely fine, honey. I promise. And we can be there in less than an hour if we’re needed – hell, I’m pretty sure if it was an actual emergency, Steven would be hunting us down.’ His head tipped back with a soft sigh, leaning into the curve of my neck. “I know, I know. I just… I haven’t spent a night away from the kids since they were born. It feels weird not to have Artemis climbing something she shouldn’t, or Apollo wanting an extra story before bed…” I smiled fondly, nuzzling into his hair. I couldn’t deny that I was preoccupied with the same thoughts – but if I too let myself dissolve into worry, we’d end up leaving before the tent was ever erected. ‘Well, the Spiders and Steve will take good care of them. They love those two crazy kids as much as we do, sweetheart. Everything is gonna be okay.’ With another sigh, he nodded, turning to wrap his arms around my neck. “I know you’re right. It’s just weird being away from them, you know?” My lips found his softly, reassuringly, hand at the base of his spine to pull him closer, occupied by holding him and forcing him to lipread. “I know. But I plan to keep you plenty occupied, don’t you worry.’ “Oh?” He grinned broadly, pressing gentle kisses along my jaw and eliciting a quiet purr. “Mhm. Can’t remember the last time we weren’t in earshot of the kids, too…” My fingers tightened, digging gently into his waist to hold him more firmly against me, and he whimpered gently in response. “Intending to have your way with me, Sergeant Barnes?” he breathed, whining when I pulled his hair to expose his throat to my teeth and tongue. “Always, Hawkeye,” I murmured, nipping gentle bruises into the soft skin over his pulse before shifting away, leaving him panting lightly. “But I think you have a tent to finish assembling first.”

It was still half-light by the time we’d made camp, so we decided to head down toward the lake, the cooler hanging between the two of us. “I wish I had both hands so I could sign,” I grumbled, making him roll his eyes good-naturedly. “If I had my hearing aids, you wouldn’t have to,” he pointed out. “But they’re at the bottom of a very deep lake, and your arm is only for emergencies these days. And we’re both better for it… Right?” he added, a minute frown flickering across his face. “Right,” I agreed readily. I didn’t regret my choice most of the time, but moments when I couldn’t sign to my husband were endlessly frustrating, even now. “I’d far rather lipread on occasion than either of us suffer.” He leant over to kiss me lightly, and I grinned, eyes flicking to the side automatically at the shimmer of dying sunlight on water reflected on his face. “I’d far rather see you wet and naked than fully dressed right now, Barton.” With a soft laugh, he left the cooler on the sand, heading toward the water as he worked on his clothes. The sight of the exposed skin of his back spurred me into action, jerking eagerly at my belt and kicking off my shoes haphazardly as I stumbled forward. By the time I’d caught up to him, he’d already shed his jeans, and turned to me with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his boxers. “Care to do the honours?” No sooner had he spoken than I was on my knees, tugging hungrily at the material. Polycules and toddlers didn’t leave us much time for the simple pleasures in life, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been able to take my time with him – sex these days was typically quick and dirty, often stolen in a layby after running an errand or with one eye on a monitor to make sure the kids were okay. It’d been some time since we’d been truly intimate, and even longer still since we’d done so just the two of us. I certainly can’t remember the last time I did this, I noted, trailing the very tip of my tongue over his length slowly, one hand tanging in my hair to ground himself as he let out a low groan. “I can’t remember the last time you did this,” he breathed, making me smile as I took him between my lips patiently, revelling in the feeling of him getting harder on my tongue. “Fuck, I forgot how goddamn good you are, James…” With a soft purr, I bobbed my head slowly, sucking pre-come from his tip before drawing away and making him whimper. “Now, now…” I murmured, standing to kiss him deeply and feeling him tremble at the taste of himself on my lips. “We have all night, my love. I intend to take my sweet time with you.” His hands fumbled as he unbuttoned my jeans, sliding my shirt over my head as I kicked them free, his fingertips trailing the ragged scar at my shoulder and eliciting a shiver. “What if I don’t want to wait?” he whined, palm pressing against my half-hard cock through my boxers, making me hiss through clenched teeth. “A needy boy, aren’t you?” I chuckled, smirking when he nodded desperately. “At least let us get back to the tent, honey. I doubt any of our partners will be amused at having to pick us up from a police station for indecent exposure.” Clint met my eye, grinning, and we snorted in unison. “Yeah, okay – Ashe would probably get a kick out of it.” Our most deviant Spider would almost certainly be delighted by having to fetch us after being caught fucking on the beach – if anything, they’d simply be sad they missed the show. With a light-hearted sigh, Clint stepped back, placated by the promise of a long night to come, waving a hand as his feet found the water.

I would be a happy man if I never stopped staring at him, I marvelled, watching the last of the twilight dapples fade from his still-damp flesh. I don’t know what I did to deserve him. “You’re staring,” he murmured without opening his eyes, one hand shifting to take a long sip of his beer. “I can’t help myself,” I replied honestly, rolling onto one side to survey him more thoroughly. “You’re breathtaking.” He was lay stretched out on a towel beside the campfire, the leaping shadows cast by the flames dancing over his tanned skin, coloured by the years spent on our farm and running around in fields, chasing child and dog alike. A light blush dusted his cheekbones, barely perceptible in the low light, and he offered me a lazy smile. “I don’t know how you keep your hands off me.” “Neither do I,” I agreed, moving to lay beside him, palm smoothing over his chest. His eyes closed automatically, a smile pulling at his lips as my fingertips brushed his abdomen. With a soft, happy sigh, I closed my fingers around his half-hard length, leaning closer to kiss him lightly. “I’ve missed this,” I admitted quietly. “I love our life, but…” He nodded, shifting closer to me, one hand tangling in my hair. “But sometimes you miss having a little more time to ourselves?” I nodded back, and he grinned, lips brushing mine. “We have two kids, sweetheart. I think every parent misses having more time to themselves – even when there’s a whole hoard of them to keep the kids entertained. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I’ve missed you too,” he added, shifting his hips infinitesimally closer, one eye opening to find mine. A low growl resounded in my chest, and I moved quickly, my hand finding his wrists and pinning them over his head to keep his body extended and still beneath me. He let out a soft whine of delight, neck straining to seek my lips with his, but I simply straddled his waist, letting my cock nudge against his teasingly. “My poor, neglected Hawk,” I murmured, tracing my lips along his jaw. “It’s been so long since you  had me all to yourself…” He nodded frantically, writhing beneath me and pushing himself closer, making me smirk. “You know, I’ll still never forget the very first time you fucked me – the day we announced Artie to the team, with the Spiders’ eyes on you as you realised just how good I felt wrapped around your cock…” He swallowed dryly, nodding again, his lips parted with need. “I- I didn’t expect- I didn’t think it would be so… That you would be so…” “Amazing? Incredible, flawless, irresistible… Tight?” I added, dropping my voice to a whisper and rutting my hips gently against his. “All of the above,” he gasped, back arching. “Please- God, it’s been so long. I need you, James.” His words fanned the flames burning in my abdomen, and I surrendered with a groan, claiming my mouth with his hungrily and rutting against him, lost in the sensation of his cock pressed against mine. “Want to fuck me, baby boy?” “God, yes,” he groaned, wriggling beneath me once more. “Please- Please, Buck- James, I-I need-” He didn’t get chance to finish his sentence as I shifted my hips, lining him up against my ass and grinning as his eyes grew wide. “Don’t you- Should we-”

My fingers released his wrists and found the small bag I’d packed, quickly pouring a copious amount of lubricant in my hand as his eyebrow raised in interest, neck straining to peer into my bag of tricks. I smirked, kissing him softly. “I’m a big boy, Clint…” My hand slicked over his length, eliciting a shiver, and I let his tip slide inside me slowly, revelling in his trembling, taut body, eyes blown wide as I took his cock patiently. “Mm- and so are you… God, I forgot just how big you are, Hawk…” His fingers found my hips, guiding me along his length, panting softly in pleasure. “I forgot how tight you are, James… Fuck, you feel incredible- I can’t believe how long it’s been since w-” I cut him off with a twitch of my hips, eliciting a sharp groan, his fingers clenching in pleasure as I rode him patiently. My hand moved automatically back to my bag, retrieving a length of rope and a rubber ring. Clint’s eyebrow raised, and I grinned as I tugged him upright, passing the rope around his torso and securing his wrists to his chest. “No touching,” I breathed, pushing him roughly back to the dirt and sliding his cock free, eliciting a whine of frustration, hips straining as best they could to bury himself back inside me. With a soft, soothing hush, I slid the ring along his length, revelling in his whimper of revelation. “James-” I leant forward as I took him once more, kissing him gently and smothering the whine on his lips. “Easy, sweet boy… I don’t want you finishing too quickly, do I? I’ve waited a very long time for this…” My hips twitched, and he gasped quietly, head tipping back in his trussed-up pleasure and frustration. “Fuck- G-Good idea, I… I don’t think I’d-” My hand wrapped around my own pulsing cock as I shifted more quickly, letting out a quiet groan of pleasure. “Fuck, Clint, I forget how good you make me feel…” My back arched as I made the most of his vulnerability, knees clamped to his hips as I worked myself eagerly atop him, already growing ragged and frantic as his tip brushed the vulnerable bundle of nerves when I buried him inside me. “Too good- Christ, I don’t know how long I can-” “Please, James,” Clint rasped, hips twitching desperately, his eyes alight with pleasure when I cut myself off with a desperate whine. “Please- I want you to come for me. Please, sweetheart.” His eagerness and hunger for my ecstasy spurred me along, my fingers tightening around myself as my muscles trembled desperately. “Clint- fuck, I-I-” The words faded into a groan of euphoria as I clenched around him, every inch of my body taut and shaking as I found my climax. He moaned happily as my seed painted his chest, fingers flexing with need, his hips moving as best they could to guide me through my orgasm with sweet care. My body was still quivering and weak as I untied his hands – but he knew the drill well enough, knew that my fatigued form wasn’t a signal for him to stop, but merely to take control and use me like the worn-out sex toy I loved to be. My cheek met the dirt as he pinned me, hands on my hips as he pulled me roughly against him. My own seed was still dripping from his chest as he buried himself inside me, slickening my skin and trailing over my ass. “That’s it, James – keep that ass nice and high for me, that’s a good boy…” I whined under my breath as one hand tangled in my hair, jerking me back against him. “Think I’ll need this ring a little longer if I don’t want to fill you up just yet…”

“We have all night,” I noted, turning my head so he could read my lips, the words coming intermittent and panted as he pounded against me mercilessly. “Pl-plenty of time to recover, t-to go a-ah!-again- fuck, yes, just- just like that, Clint, please!” My cock was filling again already, and his hand shifted to grasp my stiffening length, jerking me in time with his eager thrusts. “I can tell how much you’ve missed me, baby – so desperate for me to spent all evening buried in this tight ass, hm?” I nodded desperately, enamoured by the low, filthy chuckle the motion elicited. “Don’t you worry, my sweet boy; I’ll make sure you’re good and satisfied before we head home.” He pulled out briefly, making me whine as I pressed back, feeling empty and lost – but his tip quickly slid back inside me, bottoming out fully without the ring wrapped around him and causing my fingers to dig into the dirt desperately. “This is what you’ve been waiting for, hm? So needy, so eager for me to fill you up?” I nodded again, rutting back as he slammed into me with bruising force, his hand clenched around me. “Fuck- James- I can’t, I’m-” “Please,” I whimpered, joyous tears pricking my eyes as he unmade me. “Please, Clint. Fill me up. Use me. I’m yours.” His cry was almost feral as he emptied himself inside me, hips never slowing until I spilled yet again, lost in the sensation of his hot seed being fucked further into me and leaking around his cock as he groaned contentedly. “Fuck- That’s it. That’s it. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

I lay with my head on his chest in the dirt, still panting softly, the both of us naked, slick with sweat and sticky with our seed as he caressed my hair gently. ‘I’ve missed this,’ I signed, my movements muted and tired, but no less happy, and he kissed my forehead  with a hum. “It’s nice to get away every now and then,” he agreed, holding me a little tighter. “…Though the swim now seems a little redundant, huh?” I grinned as I raised my head, leaning forward to brush my lips to his lightly. “I’d say let’s go again, but I’m sure we’re going to get plenty more filthy before the night is over.”

@flufftober @whumpcember @buckybarnesevents @multifandom-flash @marvelrarepairbingo

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Let’s have a Chakra Chat! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤍

The chakras are composed of seven main energy centers in the body, extending from the base of the spine to the crown of the head. When our chakra system is in balance, we are in harmony with the universe. We are better connected with both our inner and outer world.

Let’s take a deep dive into the throat chakra, or vishuddha chakra.💙

The throat chakra is where we communicate, emote, and give ourselves permission to express. Congestion in the throat chakra is often a sign that you are repressing some aspect of yourself, not willing to admit something to yourself, or that you are withholding permission from yourself to do something. This is the last doorway to the lighter, higher chakras and the more ethereal nature of Self. Before there can be a growth breatkthrough or step into the next chapter of your life, you must give yourself permission to move forward in some way - something you have long denied or repressed. When this chakra opens, you have truly given yourself permission to let the universe work through you. You are willing to let your voice be heard!

Color = Blue

Mantra = Haam

Element = Ether

Location = Center of the throat

How to balance or open our throat chakra? 💙

Mantra: 📿🙏

Bring your awareness to the throat chakra, and as you envision the energetic flow and the color blue, silently or aloud chant ‘haam’... ‘haam’... ‘haam’. Or, sing it out - loud! - to activate this chakra. Don’t be shy and even just singing along to your favorite music while you are driving will invite the throat chakra to wake itself up and open up so that your voice can be heard!

Foods to eat: 🍯🫐🍵

When we have a sore throat or lose our voice, we turn to honey, hot water or tea with lemon, and herbal remedies to soothe our vocal chords - and the same works for when we are seeking to open this chakra and let our voice be heard loud and clear! In addition to foods/liquids that soothe the throat, berries and fruits that grow on trees are all excellent for this chakra.

Yoga pose to support: 🧘🧘🏾‍♂️🧘

While it may seem simple, cat/cow stretches are wonderful for the throat chakra (as well as all of the lower chakras too). From your hands and knees, inhale and drop your belly down, curling the tailbone upwards and reaching your chin forward. On your exhale, reverse the flow and round your spine, tucking your chin into your chest. Constrict your throat as you breathe, creating that powerful ocean sounding breath that you can feel in the throat. As always, please confirm with your doctor before taking part in any physical yoga practice.

Come back next week as we move up the spine to learn about the third eye chakra - ajna. 💙

Davidji

[viscariaa]

Creation for Another Me | Oneshot

Ship: Saiouma/Oumasai

Words: 1274

Type: Pre-game AU

Trigger Warning: Occasional Cursing

Posted: 07.01.22

Description: If selected for Danganronpa Season 53, what is your dream Ultimate? Although Shuichi knows the answer, his boyfriend, Kokichi doesn’t. But he is determined to help him find out!

Notes: Would you guys want there to be requests open? At the moment, I have free time, but I am not sure if anyone would be interested. Hope you all have a lovely day/night <3

Dear Kokichi Oma,

After careful consideration, Team Danganronpa wants to congratulate you on advancing to the next stage of auditions! We are certain that you will continue to impress us in the next round: in-person interviews!

It will be set up tomorrow at the famous Team Danganronpa HQ located in Tokyo. You do not need to bring anything besides yourself!

We cannot wait to hear from you then.

Best of Wishes,

Team Danganronpa

The purple-haired schoolboy blinks in disbelief. The school rooftop is not where Kokichi envisioned when receiving the email to participate in the show that he’s obsessed with. Especially when he is ditching to hang out with his boyfriend.

This isn’t the first time that he has ditched his school to visit Shuichi during lunch time. In fact, he's probably spent more time at his school than his own.

He looks besides him, to his boyfriend, who’s sitting on the edge of the bench. “D-did you…?” His mouth grows dry, unsure if he should share the news with Shuichi.

The wind acts as a knife to the silence that’s increasing with every passing second. His heartbeat starts to race. Shuichi has to get in, right? If someone like him got in, there’s no way Team Danganronpa would deny him.

“YES! YES! YES!” Shuichi suddenly shouts with joy, the high chain-link fence behind them rattles from the sudden burst of energy. “I can’t believe it! We both fucking got in, my dear, ahh!”

“H-how, do you k-know?”

Not one to shy away from public affection, Shuichi wraps his arms around him, “I looked over… Just. Like. This~”

“O-oh…” The whisper in his ear sends shock waves through Kokichi’s spine. “I g-guess, I was too c-caught up in my th-thoughts…”

Shuichi lifts his cap up and the purple-haired boy can swear he has stars in his eyes, “ah~! I’m so proud of you, my dear~” He kisses him on the cheek.

Kokichi chuckles against his neck. He’s always so enthusiastic about the franchise, it’s so contagious, seeing as he’s also given the show a chance. What an amazing chance it was.

“We’ve got to see the leaked interviews!”

Only after a couple of clicks on Shuichi’s phone, a YouTube video pops up.

Shuichi leans his head against Kokichi’s shoulder, ignoring how his hat falls to the ground and the sunlight hitting his face. He’s been so nervous that he’d have to do this process alone (if at all…), but with his boyfriend at his side, he is sure they will pass with flying colors!

“Hello! Please state your number and name.” A cheerful voice breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Number 04 and I’m Shoda Doi! Wassup!”

“Why do you want to be a part of Danganronpa Season 50?”

“Come on, it’s Dang-an-ron-pa! If there is some way to get famous…!”

Shuichi scoffs, “being famous… dumbass.”

“Everyone has th-their reason…” Kokichi hushes him.

The blue-haired boy merely sighs, remembering an obnoxious guy from his homeroom. Katio Momota? Was that his name? Shuichi never bothered learning the names of his classmates.

Anyways, he faintly recalled him bragging about submitting an application for the very same self-center idea. Kaito better have not gotten an acceptance to the show… he would make sure that lowlife would never—

“If selected for Danganronpa Season 50, what is your dream Ultimate?”

That question makes Shuichi practically foam at the mouth (and forget his threat). “Oh, I already know~! I would loveeeee to bring back the Ultimate Detective role!” He begins to babble. “They’ve been missing for the past seasons and they were always my favorite! And—and, could you imagine if I was the one problem-solving? Since you will be by my side then I will be able to protect you! What if… My dear?”

He takes his gaze off of the video to stare at his boyfriend. Kokichi doesn’t notice the shift in Shuichi’s attention as he watches Doi go on about his life-long dream of being the Ultimate TV Producer, not once realizing his lips turning into a frown.

Click!

“W-why do you turn it off?”

A hand goes to his cheek, “my dear, what’s wrong?” Shuichi sets his phone down, lowering his voice.

Kokichi sees the world grow blurry and tears start flowing down his cheeks. He lifts his arms to wipe his eyes, but Shuichi is already doing the job for him, tenderly drying his face. “I’m s-such… a b-baby…” He sobs, staring down at his shaking hands. “I’m… so s-sorry… it’s just…”

“Shh… you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to…”

“I feel s-so… boring…” He spits out that word like it’s venom. “E-e-everyone has… s-such a c-cool Ultimate. I’m j-just… so uninteresting… I d-don’t know…”

“No!” Shuichi boldly protests.

“You are the kindest, adorable, most lovely person I have ever known! Listen…” He hugs him tightly. “I know that with that genius brain of yours, you can come up with an Ultimate that suits someone as interesting as yourself, no matter what. I promise you, right here and now, that I will do whatever it takes for you to find it.”

Ring! Ring! Ring!

“Let’s head to my house for now,” he says under his breath, ignoring the stern stares of the teachers walking by. “Is that OK?”

Kokichi hums in agreement, his face flaring up red from embarrassment from Shuichi abruptly holding his hand. Nevertheless, they sneak past a couple of teachers, blending into the sea of students, and walk out of the school gates.

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

“What about your hobbies?” Shuichi looks over to him.

Both of them are sitting down on his messy bed, Kokichi with his knees to his chest and Shuichi on his back, tossing a Monokuma plushie up in the air. “You enjoy drawing, reading, and cooking…” He trails off.

“Th-they don’t… I’m not t-trying to be the Ultimate Reader…” He shakes his head, slightly embarrassed.

“Hmm… Is there…” How should he phrase this? “Any character whose talent stands out to you?”

“No, b-but…” Kokichi starts to ramble. “Makoto is c-c-confident, Celestia is r-really ch-charismatic and passionate… Hajime is always so r-reliable. Peko is as selfless as her character can be…” He wilts like a dying flower. “I wish I could be like them.”

He waited expectedly for Shuichi, but he was being unusually silent, “h-hey—”

“You are selfless.”

Shuichi cups his cheeks, “you are charismatic when talking to me. You are passionate about your hobbies. You are reliable in your studies. You are confident by joining Danganronpa with me. God, if only you can see yourself the way I do~”

With that, Kokichi was gone. His ears were painted red and he couldn’t form words anymore except for, “a l-leader… that’s the Ultimate I want to be.”

“You’ll be the best one ever!” Shuichi wraps his arms around his neck, pausing for a moment. “Hmm… I know, you’ll be a perfect supreme leader.”

A flutter of butterflies swarm inside Kokichi, he nervously nods, returning the hug back.

Ring!

“Shit,” Shuichi reluctantly lets go of him, “it’s probably my uncle. Here,” He opens the latch to his bedroom window behind him, the wind rustles through the curtains as the smell of wet grass enters the room.

He grips onto the white window frame and jumps out, his feet landing on a pile of leaves. He turns around just in time for his boyfriend to seize his collar and pull him in for a brief kiss.

“Do you promise,” Kokichi meets Shuichi’s eyes after, “to still… d-date me if I don’t… make it?”

“Absolutely.” He doesn’t waste a thought, “I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear~”

[seahgreenhorn]

(via Marching On. . . 21st Century Love During a Time of Violence: Wayne & Sabrina (25))

<a href="https://allpoetry.com/poem/17290601-Marching-On.-.-.-21st-Century-Love-During-a-Time-of-Violence--Way-by-Seah-Ray">https://allpoetry.com/poem/17290601-Marching-On.-.-.-21st-Century-Love-During-a-Time-of-Violence--Way-by-Seah-Ray</a>

As Sabrina leaned upon the old wooden door after Wayne had just exited minutes before

she turned to look upon her mother on the top of the hallway steps

rising

not hiding in her eyes

a sad look of utter abhor...

<b>Snake Envy</b> <a href="https://allpoetry.com/story/16577476-Snake-Envy-by-Seah-Ray">https://allpoetry.com/story/16577476-Snake-Envy-by-Seah-Ray</a>

Toxic envy

snakes backwards

heart to mind.

Victims-- kid to king.

Antidote:

Love with kind-- ness.

These simple words Sabrina desired her mother, Kim,

to gather to heart and bear in mind when thinking upon Wayne, lately weak in spine.

Sabrina decided to sit and sip a cup of green tea and read today's text in contemplation.

For it touched on a subject global.

A lack of application of this principle causing mankind abject misery:

<b>"Stop judging that you may not be judged;

for with the judgment you are judging, you will be judged.​" </b> Matt. 7:1, 2.

Sabrina gazed at limbs of a tree waving beautifully in their backyard. But thought upon the verse hard:

<i>Is not 'passing judgment' asinine?</i>

Yet, we are all guilty of it, at one time or another.

As if our standards are above those of our kindred sisters and brothers.

Imperfect we all are. Death not distant from each, by far.

Yet, we leave the door of judgment ajar.

Wide enough so that superiority, hatred, even, lack of patience enters to stay.

To become 'racist', 'fascist', emotionally afar off from each other as each star is:

<b>"The glory of the sun is one sort, and the glory of the moon is another,

and the glory of the stars is another;

<i>in fact, one star differs from another star in glory.</i></b>" 1 Cor. 15:41.

Yet, our Father, loves each of us as unique as we are... Recommended,

today and forever:

<b>"Draw close to God, and he will draw close to you.

Cleanse your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you indecisive ones.

Give way to misery and mourn and weep."</b>

<b>"“Yet even now,” declares Jehovah, “return to me with all your hearts,

With fasting and weeping and wailing."</b> Joel 2:12.

<b>"Let your laughter be turned into mourning, and your joy into despair.

<i>Humble yourselves in the eyes of Jehovah, and he will exalt you.</i>

Stop speaking against one another, brothers."</b> Sabrina continued to read:

<b>"Whoever speaks against a brother or judges his brother speaks against law and judges law.

Now if you judge law, you are not a doer of law but a judge.

<i>There is only one who is Lawgiver and Judge, the one who is able to save and to destroy.</i>

But you, <i>who are you to be judging your neighbor?</i></b>" James 4:8-12.

Mercy and loving-kindness are qualities that we must perpetually explore...

Sabrina set down her cup and saucer, bowed her head,

and prayed for herself, her mother, Wayne, and others harder than she had prayed before...<b>TO BE CONT'D</b>

<b>Or, So It Seems</b> <a href="https://allpoetry.com/poem/16930806-Or--So-It-Seems--Renewed--by-Seah-Ray">https://allpoetry.com/poem/16930806-Or--So-It-Seems--Renewed--by-Seah-Ray</a>

I dipped its weathered tip in blackest ink

as morning sank

red, purple, and blue, a flash of pink

while thoughts swirled in a whirlwind 'think' behind my mind's eye

a rapid 'blink'

envisioning an expansive reinvigorating scene

begun centuries back spliced between tranquility and global war.

Blown away

peace.

Scattered on a shattered track.

Iron and clay moistened suddenly splattered flat.

Though, contrived to re-figure mankind's form:

Well-rounded. Flattering. In some common vernacular

'becoming'--phat.

Around our globe hatred flung as in a sling

although, also, spitefully to offenders--

boomeranged.

When first started love was only seen.

Offered in bountiful gardens displayed, among animals, and to human beings.

Then a snake spoke bold. A liar, mean.

Destroyed souls; selfishness sprung.

Then came 'redeem': A ransom won for humanity.

Paid.

Life for life given by generous means. Sinfulness 'forgiven'.

Man to be again at peace with all men; no more a reason for vicious beasts.

I paint this picture to create a portrait of paradise and a life of ease.

This worthwhile vision to thankfully relate:

An end to horrendous travesty.

Of races united. Singing in harmony.

Of nations, one. In unity.

A Sovereign Ruler and His <i>appointed</i> King...

I began this trek,

this dream dreamt so long ago. In joy to stream until today.

Even still for it more so now I pray.

As years flew by like a gymnast's rain-bowed ribbon whipping through stifling electrified air

as a silken thread skillfully driven

through global periods of anxious scare

as beauteous beams of colored hues cause us to pause and give to beauty an appreciative stare

until reality into our reveries

bursts forth in screams...

Or, so it seems... Yes... So it seems.

But my purpose is joyously to state

of eternity and of glorious life-giving springs.

Of universal spirituality...

The time has flown. Truth birthed strong wings to fly forth to now:

The foretold long-awaited 'last days' of a wicked

system of things.

[f1nalboys]

KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY-SIX ; STRAP

Sidney Prescott x Fem!AFAB!Reader

WORD COUNT: 607

WARNINGS: nsfw, strap-on (duh), dom/sun dynamics, reader calls sidney ‘mistress’, doggy style, spanking, begging, dom!sidney, implication of more sex/multiple orgasms, mention of spanking as a punishment, not proofread, i also envisioned milf!sidney but that’s just me lol

She had you on your knees, your ass in the air and your face shoved into the mattress. One of her hands was on the base of your neck, holding you in your position while she fucked into you roughly. Her other hand was gripping your ass tightly, her nails leaving crescent shaped marks in your skin. “Fuck! Sidney, shit-” You moan, pushing back against her. Her strap was deep inside you, hitting against your cervix over and over again.

She spanks you hard, just once, her pace never faltering, and you yelp at the sting. “Don’t call me that,” She huffs, her voice sharp. For a second you’re confused; what was she talking about? “M’not Sidney right now and you fuckin know that.” You whimper when she spanks you again, her palm striking against you at the same time she thrusts into you. “Say it correctly.”

“Fu-fuck, m’sorry, Mistress. Please, I’m sorry, please forgive me.” Tears were burning in your eyes as she fucked you harder, something that you didn’t think was possible until now, after you say her name. “Mistress, you fuck me so good, shit! You make me feel so good,”

“That’s a good girl.” She purrs, releasing the back of your neck in favor of gripping your hips and slamming you down harder onto her strap. Everytime you called her that, gasping out her title while you creamed around her silicone cock, it was enough to drive her insane. “Look at you, making a fucking mess of me. You like this? You like your Mistress fucking you so hard you can’t think straight?”

You can’t form a fucking coherant thought with her cock so deep inside you it has you seeing stars. She laughs at your lack of response. “P-please, please, gonna-”

“You gonna cum? Wanna cum, pretty girl? You know how to ask, don’t you? Or are you still too cock-drunk to talk?”

Swallowing hard, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight back the coil burning hot in your stomach. She’d never let you live it down if you came without permission and you practically shudder at the memory of the last time you had. You couldn’t sit down for a week straight. “Mi-mi-mistress, shit! Shit, please can I cum? You fuck me so good, I wanna cum for you so badly, please! Oh God, please, Mistress, let me cum?”

“Come on then, sweetheart.” The words are music to your ears and you cum, hard, your hands grasping at the bed sheets until your knuckles were white. All you can say is ‘thank you,’ repeating it over and over again like a prayer and that’s what it felt like. You felt like you were being airlifted to heaven with the sheer pleasure you were experiencing.

When you come back to your senses you can hear Sideny cooing into your ear. She was still inside you but she had paused all of her movements and had taken up on running her hands through your hair. “Thank you,” You say again and she laughs, kissing your temple. You smile at the sound and feeling, working on evening out your breathing.

“Yeah, you said that already, baby.” You scoff quietly, wiggling your hips slightly, the feeling of her still inside you sending a shiver down your spine. Sidney leans back down to you, her soft lips resting against your ear. Her breath has goosebumps rising on your skin. “Too bad we aren’t finished yet. You ready for another round?”

You lift your head up slightly, looking up at her with a cheeky grin. “Of course I am, Mistress.” She smirks, straitening back up.

“Good.”

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Deserve (KSJ x reader) 🔞

Genres: angst, smut, & fluff

Tags: brat tamer ksj, brat!reader, dom/sub elements (obv LMAO), references to cheating (no actual cheating by jin or oc dw), spanking, fingering, established relationship, possessive sex, unsafe sex (be safe irl y’all), insecurity, mentioned breeding kink, mentioned hand kink, sexting, jealousy, aftercare (always important!), lots of hickeys, whooo this one is wild

Warnings: ksj uses some mean language in this fic (slut, bitch, etc.)

WC: 3835

Reminder: 18+ ONLY

You grin to yourself at the sight of Seokjin readjusting his pants to hide his erection. The camera is angled low enough that no one notices, especially with the winter coat on top of his clothes, but Seokjin is embarrassed, you can read him well.

You love the sight of his large member tenting in his pants, even more so when it’s because of your actions.

You stopped by the set today to surprise him with dinner after a long shoot, but then you got jealous.

You and Seokjin haven’t seen each other in a few weeks due to his work, and he hasn’t been picking up your calls lately. You decided to put up with that, since it hasn’t even been a year of dating yet. Most people don’t call ten month long relationships “serious”. But when you were waiting on him to finish work, you saw Seokjin’s fans talking about his newest interview on Twitter.

Seokjin has such good chemistry with her! One fan commented.

Yeah he totally does 😍😍 I wonder if they’re dating on the DL HAHAHA. Another added.

That makes sense actually! I hear she also majored in acting, and at Seokjin’s college, too!

You watched the interview and you agreed, he had been too friendly with her. You know it’s all work, as an actor Seokjin has to be charming and suave. It’s the only way he can convince the audience he is deserving of the roles he plays. But something bothers you about the way they interact. It almost feels real.

Out of jealousy, you go to the bathroom and take a picture of yourself topless and send it to Seokjin. You pinch a bit of your skin until it reddens, making it look like a hickey. Then you do it again, in another place. They’re hard enough pinches to start to bruise, and you bet they’ll be deep purple in a couple hours. You caption the picture as if you don’t hurry, I’ll go back to him soon.

There is no ‘him’ of course. You’re exclusive to Seokjin, both romantically and sexually. But hey, you can’t be the only one that’s a little jealous.

You leave the dinner you packed for Seokjin in his dressing room and leave just in time to see him open the text out of anyone else’s sight (as he opens all your texts to prevent people finding out about your relationship).

You turn around and happily skip back to your car. Seokjin can be the frustrated one now, you’ve had it.

When Seokjin comes home, it’s nearing midnight. The shoot went on another 3 hours after you left, 3 painstaking hours you laid in bed and pretended to sleep.

Seokjin knows it, too.

“Covers off.” He says instead of hello, not even turning the lights on. When you stay still, he shuts the bedroom door and locks it even though you’re home alone in his apartment. You don’t usually use the house key he gave you since you always felt it was a bit early for you to even have one, but Seokjin had insisted on giving one to you (although oddly he never demanded one to your house in return). But tonight, you’re not shirking away from any sort of commitment. You don’t care what Seokjin thinks of you using his house key and waiting in his bed, if it looks clingy. You’re clearly not that important to him anyway.

The only light Seokjin turns on is a small bedside lamp he only keeps on when you have sex, to be able to read your facial expressions even when you’re tied up or blind folded.

Seokjin pulls the covers off you, leaving you cold. “Y/N. I’m here. Quit pretending to be asleep. If you want to come tonight, show some fucking respect.” He snaps, shaking your shoulder. You open your eyes and glare up at him. Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Get on your knees.” He orders.

You do so. You’re dressed in only a pair of black lace panties and one of his oversized long sleeve shirts. You showered and shaved for tonight, and you’re sure he can smell his own body wash on you. But you’re not anywhere close to behaving yet, and you stare ahead. Seokjin tugs down the collar of your shirt to reveal your collarbone and the top of your chest where there are two bruises that look uncannily like hickeys.

At your unusual silence, Seokjin stops to check on you. “Colour.” He states rather than asks.

“Green.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue in disapproval at you. His temper is worse with you today. You have obviously pushed him further than he has ever gone tonight with your picture. “Look me in the eye when you tell me your colour. Have I not trained you well?”

You look him in the eye, anger flashing on your face. “No, you haven’t.”

Seokjin tightens his jaw. A muscle quivers in his cheek as he does it. “Is that the right way to ask sir to fuck you, princess?” He asks in a threateningly calm voice. His voice is just above a whisper and sends a chill down your spine.

You know what you’re asking for though. You both do. You smirk up at him. “Green.”

Seokjin sits at the edge of the bed. “Over my lap this instant.” He tells you. When you continue to glare, he smirks. “You know it’s been a month since we did this. I won’t fuck you for another month if you push me any further. Write down the fucking date if you want to, Y/N.”

Knowing Seokjin always keeps his promises, you quietly bend over his lap. You can deal with being spanked or even edged until you’re crying, but being deprived of Seokjin’s touch altogether is the worst and you both know it.

Seokjin chuckles, tugging his shirt up and over your ass. He begins to knead your ass between his hands roughly, making you whine. “Who asked you to stop by the set today?”

“No one.” You answer.

Seokjin slaps your ass hard. “Does this look like a regular conversation to you? Use your manners.”

“No one, sir. I stopped by because I wanted to.” You correct, already breathless. Seokjin’s first few hits are usually lighter, but he doesn’t have that kind of patience with you tonight. He gives you the kind of smacks he saves for the end right at the start.

Seokjin scoffs, continuing to knead at the same part he just hit. You wriggle in his lap at the touch, making him laugh at you. “Are you that sensitive because I haven’t fucked you in so long? Or is it because your new dom is too soft on you?”

Another hit to the opposite cheek when you take too long to answer. “Do you want to go another month without coming?” Seokjin growls in your ear.

“N-No, sir.” You answer.

Seokjin scoffs at your answer. “Sir, my ass. If you had any respect for me you wouldn’t cheat. I bet you act all coy with him because he doesn’t know you like I do. I bet he thinks you’re some soft little sub that can only be fucked in missionary position. But he doesn’t know you’re a disobedient bitch, does he, Y/N?”

Two more hard smacks, followed immediately by him kneading your ass. “N-No, sir.” You reply breathlessly. Seokjin didn’t give you a number of hits tonight, which means he is going to punish you until you’re crying. Those nights always left you sore the next day, but tonight you feel sore already. Even just sitting tomorrow will be an achievement, forget walking.

“What do you even like about him?” Seokjin asks in a cold voice. “Is he your ideal ‘type’ or some bullshit?”

You close your eyes, envisioning your ideal man. Tall and muscular. Large biceps but a small waist. Cute dimples and round cheeks and shiny eyes when he smiles. Long fingers with rounded nails that look beautiful adorned with jewellery, but the most beautiful when wrapped around your hips, your neck, and especially when inside your––

Four hard smacks in succession, two to each ass cheek. “I asked you a fucking question, didn’t I?” Seokjin asks coldly. When you tremble under him, he pauses. “Colour.”

You sniffle, brushing tears away. “Green.”

“You already took eight. You don’t have to take anymore if you don’t want to, you know that.” Seokjin reminds you, no longer angry. He actually sounds a bit guilty. He gently rubs over your ass, making you wince. “Sorry. I did too much this time, right?” He whispers, now rubbing your lower back in apology.

“I want more.” You tell him through your tears. You turn your head so you can look him in the eye. “I want as much as sir thinks I deserve.”

Seokjin considers it for a moment. Then, he chuckles. “There’s my girl.” He says softly, even though there’s nothing soft about how his hands come down on your ass.

He gives you four more, two to each ass cheek. By the time he’s done, you’re sobbing. It burns, it really does. But you like it like this, like being all his. Even if he’s smiling at some other woman while he’s working or even dating her, you like being just his in this moment. And because you’ve made him jealous too, Seokjin will definitely remind you of that fact tonight. Even if he doesn’t really believe it anymore.

Seokjin manhandles you onto the bed, making you lay down against his pillow. You hiss in pain but Seokjin is quick to kiss you. He does a great job of distracting you, kissing you deep and making you moan in his mouth. He only breaks away from the kiss to unbutton the shirt you’re wearing.

“So fucking dirty. Letting some asshole get his hands on what’s mine all because I left you alone for a few weeks.” Seokjin curses, pushing you further into the mattress as he lays on top of you. You gasp as he sucks hard hickeys on your neck, your collarbones, and the top of your chest. Seokjin takes special care to cover the two bruises you made with larger ones, pinning you down by the waist as you wriggle against him.

“S-Sir.” You whimper, but Seokjin keeps going lower. He even leaves hickeys on your breasts and on your ribcage, refusing to leave you unmarked anywhere. You’re sure you will have over a dozen on you tomorrow morning.

When he’s satisfied, Seokjin returns to your breasts. He is all tongue and teeth as he sucks at them until they’re both hard. You whine as he pinches them both hard afterwards. “You let some other guy do this to you? When only I can fucking work you up like this?” Seokjin demands, anger returning to his voice. He clamps one hand over your throat, not hard enough to block your breathing but enough to make your head spin. “Answer me, Y/N. Right fucking now.”

“S-Sorry, sir.” You answer, not really sure what you’re sorry for. You haven’t cheated on him, but his reaction makes you more sorry than if you had. You hadn’t known Seokjin could look at you with that kind of fire in his eyes. It’s different from other scenes, where Seokjin was turned on but carefully in control. Tonight, Seokjin is angry. But under it, there’s another emotion that shines just as brightly. Hurt. Seokjin is hurt by what he thinks you did.

Seokjin takes his hand off you. “You’re not sorry yet, princess. But you will be.” He warns.

Seokjin sinks lower, pressing kisses to your pubic bone and lower. He pulls your panties down and discards them. Then, Seokjin starts making new hickeys on the insides of your thighs without breaking eye contact.

When Seokjin finally pushes his middle finger into you, you’re half out of your mind and so wet it makes the insides of your thighs glisten. “Did he do this to you, princess?” Seokjin asks you, stretching you easily.

You shake your head, pushing your hips to get him to touch that spot. Seokjin grips your hip with one hand, nails digging into the skin as he holds you in place. The pain is what reminds you that he asked a question. “No! No one can do this to me.” You answer honestly, panting from the force of not coming. It would be so embarrassing to come from being fingered a little, and knowing Seokjin’s mood, he might not let you come the rest of the night if you come without permission.

Seokjin re-enters, two fingers this time. When you moan, he kisses one of the hickeys he made to cover your bruise. “That’s what I thought.” He says in a sing-song voice, mocking you. You grip his shoulders, grateful that Seokjin hadn’t tied you up as part of punishment. You dig your nails into the strong skin there, feeling him tense at how hard you do it. You don’t mean it as pay back or anything for him gripping your hip, you’re truly just that worked up tonight. But no matter his anger, Seokjin always checks on you. “Colour.”

“Green, green. Oh fuck Seokjin. Please can I come, please, please?” You beg, tipping your head back as tears roll out of them. As you clench around his fingers, Seokjin just chuckles and scissors you.

A few pumps later, he adds a third finger. “Do you think you deserve to come tonight?” He mocks you. “Look at how tight you are, I don’t even think you can take my cock tonight. That’s what happens when you fuck someone that isn’t as good as me, I guess.” Seokjin mocks you, rubbing his thumb against your clit to rile you up more.

“Ugh, I said I’m s-sorry! Sir, please.” You wriggle.

Seokjin smirks down at you. “You said it yourself, princess. ‘As much as sir thinks I deserve.’ And I think you deserve to be reminded who you fucking belong to, not to come. But if you beg really well, I might come in you. I bet you’d love to be bred by me after so long, stuffed full of my come like a dumb little slut.” Seokjin slows down, tightening his jaw again. “That is if it’s even special to you anymore. Assuming you don’t let him come in you too, of fucking course.” Seokjin punctuates each word with a hard thrust that has you scrambling for purchase on the bed sheets.

“I don’t, sir! I don’t! No one has except you.” You tell him. It’s true. You have been on birth control for years, but have never done it raw with any man until you met Seokjin. You had always been too afraid in case you missed your pill a day and wound up pregnant. But Seokjin had made you feel safer than any ex-boyfriend of yours had. Only a few months into dating, Seokjin made you feel safe enough to let him go raw, and never made you regret it. Hell, he even picked up your prescription for you when you worked late.

Seokjin’s fingers slip out of you. He pushes a stray hair back from your face, making you shiver as he gets some pre-come on your forehead. “And why’s that, princess?”

“I belong to you. I’m yours.”

You jolt in surprise as you feel the head of Seokjin’s cock press against your entrance. You grip his wide shoulders as he eases into you, but Seokjin pulls your hands off. He pins you down against the mattress, a hand to each wrist. “Correct.” He replies, before starting to move.

You can’t help the moans that fall from your lips with each of his movements. They’re not loud, actually the opposite. Seokjin’s punishment and teasing tired you out, so you can only let out soft moans and whines now. Seokjin pins you down, eyes pitch black and piercing in the dim light. There are no words needed for what Seokjin is doing right now. He’s trying to prove himself to you.

That only makes you feel more guilty. Even a simple nude while he was working would’ve riled Seokjin up, why did you have to make him think you cheated? In hindsight, you hadn’t been thinking straight. “I-I’m sorry.” You whisper as you look at Seokjin.

Seokjin looks away from you and down at your chest, at the darkening spots on your body. “Shut up.” He whispers back. His grip tightens on your wrists and he picks up the pace.

You’re getting close and you know Seokjin is, too. “S-Sir. Please.” You beg.

Seokjin pulls your arms up, taking both of your wrists in one hand and holding them away. You arch your back as the head of his cock rubs against your g-spot. “Sir!” You cry out. When Seokjin’s hips start to stutter, you finally lose your patience. “Fuck, Seokjin!”

Seokjin lets go of your wrists. One hand comes to grip your thigh hard, pushing it as far out as it can go. The other comes to rub at your clit. His pace picks up again, filling you up in a way that feels entirely different this time.

When you come, it feels like a flood of emotion. You tremble and clench around Seokjin, moaning his name and crying. When Seokjin comes, it’s with a deep moan and his fingernails digging into your skin, sure to leave marks tomorrow morning. You both know it, but you’re not upset at all. You have always liked the reminder that you’re his and only his.

Seokjin collapses on top of you as you both come down from your high. Seokjin pushes his bangs back from his forehead, wiping at the sweat on his face with one hand. He doesn’t look you in the eye. You try to kiss him, but he pulls away. He sits up, pulling out of you. Seokjin grabs tissues off the nightstand and wipes himself and you down gently.

“You can use the shower in the guest bedroom.” Seokjin says.

You grab his hand before he can go. “Why can’t I use your shower? We’ve showered together before.”

Seokjin pulls his hand away. “That was before you cheated on me, Y/N. I know we fucked tonight, but this is it. I’m not your boyfriend after tonight.”

Your heart sinks. “Seokjin. I didn’t actually cheat on you.”

That makes Seokjin look at you, eyes still dark but now sad. “Don’t lie to me now, Y/N. You told me clearly in your text that another guy made hickeys on you and that you were going to go back to him.”

You shake your head, taking his hands in yours. “I actually pinched myself. I only meant to make it look real and tease you, but I went too far. I’m sorry baby. I really am.”

Seokjin looks at you like he can’t believe his own ears. “You gave yourself bruises that look like hickeys just to make me mad?”

When you nod and look honest, Seokjin pulls you close. “Why?”

“I watched your newest interview.” You say.

A long moment passes and then Seokjin seems to get what you’re saying. “Were you jealous of me interacting with her?” Seokjin asks, surprised. When you pout he starts to laugh. He tips his head back and closes his eyes at how funny it is to him but it’s not funny to you. When you smack his chest lightly, he looks at you with a fond smile. He brushes your hair behind your ear. “Say it. Were you jealous?”

You bite your lip. Seokjin notices immediately you’re not finding this funny and grows serious. You look away from him. “I was jealous. But I was also insecure.”

“Insecure?” Seokjin repeats the word. “Why?”

You play with his hands. “Don’t know.” You mumble.

Seokjin cups your face and makes you look at him. “Be honest.” He tells you. “You know I like it when you’re honest the most, right?”

You chew your bottom lip. “I...I saw some stuff on Twitter. They said you two looked like a couple. And to be honest, you were kinda too friendly with her.”

Seokjin looks sad. “And that’s why you teased me? Even though you knew I’d think you were just playing and punish you?” You nod. Seokjin’s brows knit together. He pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry baby. I should’ve thought more.”

You shake your head, but tears fall on Seokjin’s shoulder anyway. “I liked it. I always like it when we have sex like that. But I also wanted your attention.”

“You always have my attention.” Seokjin pulls back, cupping your face again. His eyes are wide and genuine. You love that the most about Seokjin; even though he’s an actor, he’s never lied to you. “Let’s take a shower.”

So you do. The two of you get in the shower together. Seokjin washes your chest and between your thighs for you, gentle as he touches the hickeys he made. You wash his back for him and his hair, giving him little kisses every now and then. You grab a spare pair of panties you left at his house and another one of his shirts.

When you get in bed, Seokjin turns you onto your back and applies lotion onto your ass. You wince at the burn of lotion on your sore spots. “Sorry baby. I got really angry thinking about you sleeping with someone else and lost my control.” Seokjin apologizes for the 1000th time.

“It’s okay. I wanted this.” You reply to him for the 1000th time. But still, Seokjin is really gentle with you.

“I only want you, okay?” You tell him when you lay on top of his chest later. “Even though I know after tonight, I don’t deserve you.”

Seokjin kisses your forehead. “Don’t ever say that baby. Of course you deserve me.”

You make yourself comfortable against him and he tucks the blankets in around both of you. “Do I?”

Seokjin rubs your back. “Someone like you deserves the best, Y/N. And naturally, that’s me, Kim Seokjin.” He ends jokingly.

You scoff but kiss his cheek anyway. “That’s true. My boyfriend is the best.”

Seokjin smiles at you lovingly. “I love you.”

Your eyes widen. Seokjin’s eyes widen too. “Shit. I mean, no. Well, no, I mean yes.” Seokjin stammers, ears turning pink. “Sorry, this is too quick right? Fuck, we haven’t even dated a year but I already said that.”

“I love you too.” You reply, feeling yourself blush too. It’s so odd how you’ve been entirely naked before him before but you feel more vulnerable now.

You and Seokjin smile at each other. “I must’ve saved the country in my past life to deserve you.” You whisper.

“That’s my line, baby.” Seokjin teases, kissing your lips sweetly. You melt into him, safe and comfortable. This is home.

[ichorai]

ghostly moon, soulless sun ; c.s

pairing ; san x ghost!reader

words ; 1k

warnings / includes ; heavy angst, implications of death, sun/moon metaphors !!, another one of my half-assed attempts at poetic writing </3

prompts ; 12. "don't leave me here." + 24. "i'm sorry. i never meant to hurt you like that."

a/n ; a short lil tidbit for @ficscafe's dialogue prompt event !! this one's real sad yall omg thank you to @fullsunfluff and @subways-stuff for reading through <33

San was dancing with but a mere shadow. He could see you, hold you, feel your gentle warmth molding beneath his tender grazes… and yet, you were never really there. He was alone, swaying to the echo of a dead song that only he could hear.

Eventually, San crumpled to the ground, slowly bringing his knees up to his chest. He felt like a hollow husk of a man, fruitlessly grasping at straws for someone who was gone. You were never coming back.

“Don’t leave me here.” His voice, raw with pure agony, rang out into the empty room.

He was met with no reply.

Tears, scaldingly cold, meandered silently over his cheeks. They dribbled onto the polished wooden floors, like wax melting off the candle’s wick. San wondered how long it’d take before his flame would dwindle to a wisp of smoke.

Each tear told a different story, and he was not yet ready to navigate the ocean.

If he closed his eyes, he could envision your smile, the way you threw your head back when you laughed with glee. It was almost as if he could smell your vanilla hazel perfume that you often spritzed at the junction of your neck, right where San enjoyed peppering faint kisses. Your heartbeat had also always been his favorite sound. It was what used to put him to sleep, accompanied with your steady breathing. San didn’t sleep much anymore. He couldn’t; especially not without you by his side.

And all of it… now gone.

When one looks up at the night sky expecting to see the sun, they’d come away disappointed, only seeing the moon. And though it was practically nothing in comparison, the moon was somehow all the more breath-taking. That was how San felt about you. Whilst everybody else was far too busy gawking at the large blinding star, you were there, waiting patiently in the shadows. Because what was the moon in the presence of the sun?

It was only a week after the tragedy when you came back into his life. At first, he had shrugged it off as his grief-stricken mind playing tricks with his eyes. He was tired, barely conscious, and mentally anaesthetized.

But he knew it had to be real when you reached out with your gentle ghostly touch, whispering, “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that, San. We didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, did we?”

“Why come back if you’re just going to leave again?” San croaked out, turning his head so he wasn’t facing you anymore. He had exhausted himself of tears.

There was a beat of silence. Your ghostly form rounded the unmade bed, sitting by the edge to where he was curled. His eyelids fluttered shut, lashes brushing against his gaunt cheeks. The feeling of his warm skin beneath your cold, lifeless touch only served to wedge a larger gap between the moon and the sun.

“Death gave me a chance to tie up any loose ends. You’re my loose end, San.” You laid down beside him. The pillows and mattress didn’t sink under your weight, for you were only a soul without a body; juxtaposing greatly against your past lover. Where had his soul gone? “I can’t stay for long. I just wanted to tell you that I love you. And if you really loved me back, you’d pick yourself back up. The days don’t exist without the sun.”

An anger, like one he had never felt before, blossomed its inky black contents across his ribcage and seeped into his heart. “The moon abandoned the night, so why should the sun stay? You’re not coming back to me. Let the world stay dark.”

“San.”

A shiver danced along his spine at the sound of his name escaping your ghostly lips.

“The moon might be gone, but there will always be the stars. Bits of me sprinkled across the horizon for you. I’m still in here.” Your translucent fingers reached out to brush over his chest, just above where his duly-thumping heart laid. “Don’t lose yourself. Because a part of me is in there with you. Just as the sun shares the sky with the moon.”

San didn’t have the heart to tell you to leave. He missed everything about you… your melodic words, your elegant features (though barely discernible because you were translucent and the room was quite dark), and the way that, even as a ghost, you managed to make everything seem better. For the first time in a long while, San didn’t feel the crushing boulder-like weight resting upon his shoulders. And so he stayed silent, blinking away the onslaught of saltified emotions lacing the corners of his eyes.

A ghost and their lover laying on the same bed. A broken man and the golden glue that kept the shards together. A waning moon and a setting sun. They weren’t touching, no, but so very close to. San’s hands suddenly ached to hold you in his arms. One last time.

Eventually, after hours and hours, San succumbed to the painful chasm of sleep, horrendous nightmares stringing him along like a limp puppet. When the morning sun rose, greeting him in the face with intruding rays filtering past his blinds, he blinked away the exhaust and ran his hand over his worn face groggily, glancing to the side.

You were no longer there. Of course you weren’t. The moon thrived in the shadows, and the sun brought nothing but radiance. San tried his best to ignore the twinge of nostalgic pain clawing away at his heart.

Slowly, he slid off the bed and stretched, groaning at the stiff muscles in his shoulders.

For you, San would do anything. You told him to pick himself back up, and he vowed to do so, shard after shard, no matter how many cuts he’d accumulate. He’d keep dancing with the shadows, swaying to the dead song’s cavernous echo. And perhaps one day, it’d reignite the flame within his soul.

[janghoefett]

One Last Time

[Anakin x F!Reader, Obi-Wan x F!reader]

Listen eye dee kay what possessed me to write this, but it was on my AO3 from my Ani phase. I am also surprised. Just figured I could just round out my repertoire a little bit 🤡

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ Pairing: F/M Word Count: 1.4k

Summary: An invitation to spend the night with your former flame, Anakin Skywalker, is the perfect opportunity for you and Obi-Wan to locate his base.

Warnings: Affair, but like it’s agreed upon? Conflicted feelings, p in v smut, oral (f receiving), crying. Love triangle.

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

“It’s been too long. Come and see me. We need one last night together.”

That’s all the note had said.

“If he takes me there, I can figure out where his base is,” you tell Obi-Wan, hoping he would finally understand the sacrifice you were willing to make.

“Please don’t go,” he pleads softly, his eyes foggy. “Please, my darling. I’m begging you.”

“Obi-Wan… please don’t make this harder,” you breathe. “Anakin won’t hurt me.”

The Jedi sighs, resting his hands on your hips. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he counters. “He will do anything to possess you—”

“But he won’t have me. I’m yours. Always.”

Obi-Wan cups your cheeks and presses a firm kiss to your lips, deciding he could only remind you of his love through his defeat.

—————————————————————

They had kept you away from the cockpit with the windows shuttered. You had tried visualizing your location as they took off, just as Obi-Wan had taught you, but at lightspeed it was useless. Despite the blatant secrecy about where you were going, the crew treated you like royalty. It was clear Anakin must have stressed your importance to him.

There’s a crisp chill to the air as you disembark into the enclosed landing dock and the sight of Anakin’s tall figure sends a shiver up your spine. You audibly gasp at the shocking sight; he looks the himself but weathered, with a tired, lifeless gleam in his eyes.

Anakin brings you into a close embrace, tilting your chin up for a soft kiss. “I missed you, my love,” he whispers. 

You can only look up at him with wide eyes, suddenly unsure of your abilities to go through with what was to come. He takes you by the hand and leads you inside the white fortress. Your heart is pounding and you stay close to him, walking past countless stormtroopers and stoic men in black uniforms.

Anakin and Obi-Wan fell head over heels for you years ago. Anakin was the only one bold enough to declare his feelings for you and your relationship began. Obi-Wan continued his support and friendship, despite how much how it hurt him, and was there to pick up the pieces when Anakin turned. Though initially heartbroken over Anakin’s betrayal, you came to find that Obi-Wan was everything to you. He was safety, warmth, your home; you loved him fully and completely. There was no doubt about that. 

Anakin, however, was a ghost from your past that you never found closure with...

He leads you to a bedroom. It’s white, like the rest of the fortress, with a large sleek bed just waiting for you.

“You’re nervous,” he remarks, pointedly.

“Anakin, I don’t even know where I am. Of course I’m nervous...”

“You don’t have to worry about that, my love. Trust me. It’s for the safety of both of us.”

You ignore Anakin's lack of transparency and move to the window. “Is this the Hoth system?” you ask, squinting your eyes at the sea of blinding white snow.

He chuckles. “What gave it away?”

You turn back around to see him smiling, watching you with that boyish grin. “You know… sometimes you’re still you,” you remark.

Anakin closes the distance between you, resting his hands on your waist. “Do you miss me?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

You had your information. But you couldn’t just go, not yet. You had to seem just as eager for this as he did and perhaps you were eager, in a way. When things ended with Anakin, you didn’t know when your last night together was. You didn’t say goodbye. The truth is, you missed him as a friend, as someone who was important in your life.

Anakin presses his lips to yours and wraps you in strong arms. He wastes no time, lowering you back onto the crisp white linens of the bed. He devours you this way for what feels like an eternity and your clothes disappear without notice. His defined body is as gorgeous as ever, causing your heartbeat to quicken at the sight and the memories you had of him. 

Anakin parts your legs and lowers himself to your center before pleasuring you with his tongue. Obi-Wan knew intimacy was guaranteed from Anakin’s note, and he trusted you to the ends of the galaxy by letting you go. But you knew it hurt him profoundly and you could cry at the thought of a man other than him touching you.

So you lean into your thoughts about Obi-Wan for your own sake. Your eyes flutter shut. A smile crosses your face as you envision his blue eyes beaming up at you from between your legs, his copper-tinged hair falling on his forehead. Obi-Wan had gone down on you before, many times, and knew your body quite well because of it.

“Oh…” you moan shakily, catching yourself from saying Obi-Wan’s name to completion.

Your mind drifts elsewhere as the pleasure continues. Anakin had hurt you tremendously because you loved him so. You thought never wanted to see him again; you couldn’t take it. It was Obi-Wan who had put you back together again. It was Obi-Wan who brought you to new heights, physically. He owned every part of your being and he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

As Obi-Wan’s lips come to yours, you find that his skin is soft and bare. His kisses are different. 

Your eyes open and return to reality. 

Without having time to think, Anakin’s cock is filling you completely. You can’t help but throw your head back in pleasure as Anakin leaves love bites up your neck.

You moan involuntarily and your hands claw at him. It feels so good; it brings you back to the way things were with Anakin. He begins to complete slow and thorough thrusts and your legs wrap around him on instinct. “I missed this. I missed you,” he whispers, caging you in with his arms.

“Oh Anakin…” you sigh, giving in. Your hands come up to caress his face as he fucks you gently.

Anakin suddenly rolls you over so you are resting upon his chest, continuing to thrust upwards at a fast and steady pace. Tears begin to well up in your eyes as your emotions get the best of you. With every pleasurable thrust you are reminded of your betrayal to Obi-Wan and your remaining attachment to Anakin.

“Don’t fight it,” growls Anakin. “Tell me this doesn’t feel right.”

Your lips meet in a sloppy, desperate kiss and your hips move together in rhythm. At this rate you were going to finish soon, and hard. 

“Come on. I want to feel you again. Come for me,” he encourages as he fucks you harder. You oblige soon after, crying his name and holding onto him for dear life.

You lie there panting on his chest, your bodies pulsing with pleasure as you come down from your highs. It was like making love to a ghost, to a person who no longer existed. Perhaps he never did exist.

“I still love you, you know,” he whispers.

“I know.” 

The Anakin of days past still held a place in your heart, too...

————————————————————————————————

The same crew and ship return you; Anakin had trusted you enough to let you return without a problem. You walk cloaked through the night, back to your home.

Obi-Wan runs to you, holding you tight, and you can’t bring yourself to return the embrace. 

You couldn’t taint your dear Obi-Wan.

“Hoth. He’s on Hoth,” you say. It actually felt horrible to betray Anakin. But this wasn’t about him; there was nothing to be done for Anakin Skywalker now. This was about Vader and the Emperor. It had to end.

Obi-Wan looks back at you with deep-set concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I’m sorry,” is all you manage to answer. You walk wordlessly to the bathroom, stripping your clothes and running the water of the bath. 

Obi-Wan’s heart shatters; he knows in that moment what had happened. You sink into the water and clutch your knees, just as an audible cry escapes your lips, and Obi-Wan comes in at your sound of distress. He sobs at the sight of you, kneeling to your level and clutching your naked form.

“Obi-Wan…” you sob, unable to look at him. “I love you.”

He tilts your head to give you a lingering kiss, soft and sweet. “I love you,” he rasps. Obi-Wan dips a towel in the water, running the warm wet cloth up your skin. “I’m going to wash it all away, my love.”

[hosierydarling]

Light as a Feather

Darkness. Darkness that breathed. The ever present blackness stuttering with the anxious and ragged exhalation of breath. Panting, soft frightened and chopped by brief choked whimpers. The spotlight slashes through the darkness and we see the girl. She is bound, suspended; in a room not too much bigger than she is. The walls all padded in leather the color of blood. The girls arms have been drawn behind her, shackled into cuffs on the back wall about five feet from the floor. Around her neck is a thick collar tethering her to the ceiling. Her body has been scooped up, legs together, and ankles also shackled by further suspension wires. Her eyes are sightless, closed by a padded blind also the color of blood and fringed with black lace. Beyond the blindfold there is not a stitch upon her. The exhalation softened whimpers come from her lips, from her throat, the cord of tendons disappearing under the collars as she suspends tense in her bonds. Her chest rising and falling in anxiety and fear. Her pale flesh is prickled sharply in anticipation; awaiting the unexpected. She was alone. No one was attending her. Her leg cramped. Her foot giving an involuntary twitch allowing the wires holding her to rattle softly like cabling. Her head tilts as the sound echoes in the tiny room. Fear gripped her. The combination of waiting and the knowledge of the devious mind of her captor instilling in her a spine ramming pulse of dread. It mattered little that she trusted her captor more than anything imaginable. Such surprises were her captor’s forte and they were always devised for the purpose of keeping her in that state of awe and instinctual dread. She cocked her head as she heard the briefest of soft electronic beeps, almost like the sound test doctor’s put one through to examine one’s quality of hearing. After this beep, there was the gentle whine of a motor. She could not tell exactly where the sound was coming from. Sounds were dulled by the rooms padding. All of a sudden she felt the lightest brush of material in a circular swish against the left side of her torso; just faintly against her bottom-most rib. Regardless, of the supreme lightness of this touching motion, it was like a toggle switch had moved to “ON”. The girl thrashed and howled. Legs kicking out and fiercely jarring the whole apparatus that tethered her in the air. After mere moments the tickling ended, but it took a good while longer for the girl to calm. Gulping down air as if she had been deprived, fingers and legs twitching as if to itch that offended spot, or to clutch at her heaving sides. The rattle of the cabling kept her on edge, every movement wracking the different wired tethers. She was almost completely back at her still point when another whir brought about the soft circular touches upon the arch of her feet, and again she began to thrash without control, Her body bucking within its harness wildly, her laughter beautifully delightful and tinged with fright, bouncing off the walls. She bucked and jarred and finally gave one hard kick that managed to dislodge whatever was attacking her feet and end this round of the torment. She panted breathlessly. Her body shivering as it succumbed to this tickling idea motivated by her captor. She could only imagine what might come next. The fear left her unable to calm. Shivering and jittery within her restraints. Flesh prickled, nipples tight and her core fluttering in agitation. Her toes instinctively curled imagining some further plight in this region. She felt the tickling apparatus break under the onslaught of her foot. This was not some person standing there with feathers abound. She was bound before some dispassionate machine. The metal and plastic had jarred from her kick. She turned her sightless eyes to and fro, fearful of what the controller of this machine would do next. Minutes passed, pulse pounded. Her head turned frantically back and forth shivering in wait. Straining to hear the telltale whir of motors in motion that would signal the next device of torture. But, she could hear nothing, nothing but the exasperated out of control bursts of her breathing. For a moment she felt eyes on her, and she knew that this was not an out of the ordinary sensation. She knew her captor must be watching; enjoying every uncomfortable moment of her charges apprehension. But, she could see nothing. She cleared her mind of all this detritus of thought and focused on hearing. She wanted to be ready for the next round regardless of whether she could stop it. She could at least prepare for the sensation. More time passed. She figured she had been waiting for almost a quarter of an hour. Perhaps, knowing just how fiendishly sensitive her body was to the torment of tickling, her captor was not going to subject her to much of it. After all, she might leave a mess to be cleaned up if subjected to an overabundance of the wicked feather touches. It was during this train of thought that she almost missed the third whir of motors. She could almost envision the mechanical arm sliding into place just millimeters from her flesh as if taking pause and regarding her before applying its torture. She shrieked as the teency tines pricked her spine; starting at the nape of neck and travelling downwards over her tail bone. Her body arching deeply . She, trying her damndest not to buck and put pressure on those sharp spines, gritting her teeth and setting about to keep still despite the singing of her nerves. No sooner had the wheel run its course to her ass, then two more sets of tines ran slowly up her feet from heel to toes; and two further sets of tines ran in a circle just a hair outside of each areola. Her body gave up its resistance instantly and began to convulse. Her heart hammering against her ribs as she jostled and jerked within her bonds, howling out against the ceiling. Her body in ache, her core hot with the excitement of each dreaded touch. In the midst of her crescendo of thrashing she swore she heard the static-infused sound of laughter as if from an intercom, but there was no mistaking the assured inflection of that laugh. The amusement dancing within the breathy pitch of the sound. Her uncontrollable howl against the wheel tines dissolved into a whimpering cry for her owner. The bucking of her limbs less of an outrage from the torture and more of a need to get to the creator of the intercom laugh. As if hiding under the skirts of her tormentor would save her from torment. So absorbed in the attempt to extricate herself from her harness, so deep in thought and the sound of her panting, that she missed the next whir of machinery. She felt the merest touch of feather tip against the left side of her sex. As it registered, her eyes shot wide open under the blind and she squealed for mercy. The fevered frantic sound of her begging causing another intercom chuckle. Her fingers and toes flexed for a moment before the tickling began in earnest. The multiple feather tips swirled along the flushed lips of her pussy. Her body thrashed and kicked but there was no way for her to dislodge this arm from the apex of her thighs. She howled and sang, all coherent pleas for her captor to stop lost in the pitched moans of her body. This time the onslaught did not relent. The arm would even periodically push and prod against the opening of her body as the feathers continued to spin against the softness of her lips. It did not take much to send her hyper-sensitized body over the edge. She could not quell her thrashing. Her moans and cries frantic as the machine continued to tickle at her netherbits. She arched deeply and hung there suspended almost trance-like, toes pointed almost stretching before an amazing arc of fluid rushed from between her thighs. Quivering, a slick sheen of sweat glistening upon her features, she let out an exasperated sigh of relief as she heard the whir of mechanics, and felt the feathertips leave the immediate area of her sex. Yet, she prickled in that familiar state of dread when she heard the satisfied purr seep from the grill of the intercom.

[writingfromkitchenator]

Legolas ~ Is That Such A Bad Thing?

1,300 Followers Challenge!

Round 2

Masterlist

Requested by Anon

Based on an imagine found here by @thefandomimagine

Words: 1,479

Warnings: Neutral Human Reader, arranged marriage, mild angst, misunderstanding, fluff

You stared at your parents like they’d gone mad.  “No.”

They looked honestly surprised at you.  “No? You don’t even know who it is.”

“Exactly,” You said, frowning at them.  “And I am not being forced into something that I do not want.  Marriage is meant to be about love, not just for the sheer convenience of it with someone that you deem suitable.”

Your father frowned. “Y/N, this is for the good of both kingdoms.  Due to our position, your position, then we all knew that this would be a possibility.”

“No,” You said again, anger curling away in your stomach.  “I don’t care what is meant to be my responsibility.  This is not the life I want.”

“Y/N, please, just listen to us for a moment.”  Your mother said gently.  “We only want what is best for you.”

“You didn’t even talk to me about this!”  You started to yell.  “You didn’t even consult me!  I never asked you to arrange a marriage for me, and I certainly never asked for you to decide my future!  So no, I will not listen.”

You turned on your heel and stormed away, not giving them a chance to say anything else, not wanting to hear it.

Outside, the cool air made you shiver, made you aware of the tears building in your eyes, and you made a furious noise, heading to the stables.  There was only one person that would be able to calm you down from this, and while you hated that he was so far away, you had to go and see him.

Usually a ride would clear your head, but your mind kept ending up back in your arranged marriage, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the thought, not knowing anything about who you were going to be forced to marry.  A small trickle of dread kept running down your spine when you envisioned someone older, going grey already, and you really couldn’t just fathom the thought.

You were always welcome in the Woodland Realm, all the guards knowing you, greeting you as you rode in, one of them taking your horse off you as you dismounted.

“Legolas is in his quarters.”  One of the guards said with a bow.  “He has been informed of your arrival.”

“Thank you.” You said and hurried through the halls, your mind whirring with everything you wanted to say.

Legolas greeted you with a warm smile, one that quickly falters when he saw your distress.  “What has happened?”

The tears came hard and fast and he was by your side in a flash, an arm wrapping around your shoulders, guiding you to take a seat and not leaving your side.

The two of you had known each other a few years now and had become very fast friends.  Neither of you could really explain it, after all, you were from very different worlds, one elf, one human, but you both found yourselves taking time away from your lives to go and see the other.

“What has happened?” Legolas asked once you’d settled a little, frowning with concern, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, fingers rubbing gently.

You sniffed, taking a few deep breathes to get yourself in control.  “My parents have done something I did not want, without talking to me about it first.  They’ve have simply gone and decided my life for me.”

He frowned slightly. “What did they do?”

Having to say it out loud was worse than thinking about it.  “They arranged a marriage for me.”

Legolas pauses for a moment, looking a little confused.  “And this…upset you?”

“Of course it upset me.” You snapped a little standing and stepping away, hugging yourself.  “I don’t want to be forced to marry, especially to someone that I don’t love. It’s just not right.  It is my life, I should able to marry and love who I please, without the pressure of maintaining a political alliance.  It’s all just so ludicrous.”

He watches you closely, his expression neutral, although there was a hidden pain in his eyes.

“I don’t understand why they can’t just let me make my own decisions,” You said bitterly, your shoulders sinking, feeling tears prick at your eyes again.  “Would it really be that bad to let me fall in love and get married in my own time?”

“Of course not,” You turned when he spoke, surprised by the quiet words.  “If that is what you wish, then it shall be so.”

You frowned.  “They were very insistent Legolas, that this was the for the betterment of both kingdoms.  I don’t even know which kingdom they’re referring too, but either way I’m dreading at the thought of someone old and grey.  I think I may run away if that is the case.  I’m sure I can survive as an outcast out-out in the wilds.”

It wasn’t an appealing idea, but it was currently the only one you had.

Legolas’ expression went blank as he stared at you, and after a long moment of silence, he started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, this taking you back. “I don’t think my impending marriage or exile is overly hilarious, Legolas.”

He continued to laugh, but shook his head.  “They did not tell you who?”

“They tried to,” You pouted a little, frowning at him.  “But by that point I was far too angry and upset to listen.  I cannot see it any other way than bad.”

Legolas smiled.  “And if I was to tell you that it was me?”

“That would be different,” You said, not picking up on the tone in his voice at first.  “We’ve been friends for a while now and, well, I guess it could work, but it would still be nice to be talked to about it first.”

“Our parents did the talking for us it seems,” Legolas said, watching you, more than amused.  “Seeing what we both could not.”

“I mean, I guess so, but it’s all just-” You stopped, it finally clicking into place what he was saying and you stared at him.  “They’ve arranged for me to marry you?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked.

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times, before heat crept into your cheeks and you looked away from him.  “I…I don’t know how to answer that.”

Legolas got up and approached you slowly, waiting to see if you would run away from him, but you just give him a shy, nervous look.  “If I told you I loved you, that I have for some time, how would you answer that?”

“I…” Your heart felt like it was going to burst from your chest, this having taken a turn that you certainly did not expect.  “That I share those feelings, and have for some time.  I have also…not wished to express them due to our friendship.”

“Likewise,” He said softly, his hands resting gently on your upper arms.  “But now that we both know, and we know what path our parents have decided for us, perhaps we can discuss it as you wished?”

You stared at each other for a long moment, neither entirely sure what to do, but both knowing that something needed to be done.

Neither of you were really sure who moved first, but it was a little awkward as your lips hit each other a little hard, before backing off a little and trying again.  It was still a little awkward, neither of you sure about the kiss you sharing, but both of you knew that there was something right about it.

Legolas pulled away first, his cheeks flushed, one of his hands gently cupping your cheek, the smile not leaving him.  “My dear Y/N, whatever shall I do with you?”

You broke into giggles and threw your arms around him in a tight hug, one he quickly returns.  “If I’d known about that I would’ve done that a long time ago.”

He chuckled lightly. “Well, it certainly would’ve made up for the situation you’ve put yourself in.”

Gasping, you stepped away, a little panicked.  “I-I need to get back right away!  I need to apologise!  I’ve made such a complete mess of this.  I-”

“Easy,” Legolas said gently, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles softly.  “We will go together.  I’m sure it’ll make it a much easier and better explanation and apology if they can see that we have indeed worked it out for ourselves.”

You looked at him for a moment before you smiled.  “You got angry at your father too, didn’t you?”

He shrugged, pulling you close to his side.  “Perhaps. He is already going to be smug enough as it is, so please don’t let him rub it in too much.”

Giggling, the two of you left the room, a little more ready for the path set before you.

[sisterspooky1013]

Goodnight and Go by SisterSpooky1013

Part of the inspired by songs series, this work is inspired by “goodnight and go” by Imogen Heap.

2219 words, read it here on AO3

His knock was always a welcome interruption. The soft rap rap against her door seemed to have a direct line to her lips, quirking them into a secret smirk that she invariably erased before greeting him. She was, after all, an accomplished avoider, hider, and suppresser of emotions. She had become so adept at concealing her visceral response to him that she found she was unable to let it be known, even now that she felt ready for that part of herself to be seen. Nearly dying from cancer could do that to you; make you rethink why you ever built walls around your heart in the first place. What was meant to protect you from hurt and vulnerability also served to prevent you from having the type of true connection that made life worth living in the first place. And so when she learned her fate, that she would live, she decided to make a change, to let him in, only to discover that she didn’t actually know how. So, brick by brick, she was deconstructing her own defenses. Sometimes that looked like not suppressing a smile, or making a sexual innuendo, or sitting a little closer than was absolutely necessary. It was tedious work, but the progress was continual. What she had not anticipated, however, was how quickly Mulder would respond to the change in her, and how affected she would be by his response.

Mulder had always been affectionate towards her, tender even at times. His broad hand at the small of her back, the occasional stroke of her cheek, a kiss to the top of her head now and then, these were expected and appreciated gestures. Her own demeanor or their sometimes tumultuous relationship never seemed to affect whether he interacted with her in this way; it was simply a given. But the first time she reciprocated, returning his coy smile with a toothy grin of her own instead of a suppressed smirk, she saw his body respond to the feedback. Something shifted in his eyes, or maybe it was more like a subtle wave that traveled down his body, or a spark that sputtered from his fingertips. Whatever it was, she felt it from several feet away, electric and thick and heavy between them, and it hadn’t abated since.

Rap rap.

She felt a flush spread from her chest to her fingertips, and her tongue darted out to taste the smile that stretched across her lips. She wouldn’t push it away this time; she wanted him to see how happy she was to see him. Pulling the door open, she greeted him warmly with a “hi” and he grinned in return, setting off a fluttering in her belly that had previously been reserved for high school crushes. His snug jeans and grey T shirt hugged his muscular body in all the right places, and she decided then and there to pull down her brick for the day, to chip away at part of the wall. Still smiling, she let her gaze float down his body, taking in the hard swell of his pecs and the soft bulge in his pants before she met his eye again. It felt gratuitous and overt, but in reality it was nothing more than a flicker; something he might have missed had he looked away for even a moment. But he hadn’t missed it. She knew because he inhaled deeply and she saw his eyes darken as his pupils expanded, his nervous system unable to suppress its natural response to the flush of dopamine he experienced as a result of her leering.

“Come in,” she said, stepping aside, ignoring the blush that she felt warm her cheeks. She couldn’t suppress her body’s natural response to what felt dangerous and exciting any more than he could. “Can I get you something? Coffee, beer?”

She had been working on not asking why he was there, or what he needed. She wanted to eliminate the pretense that their relationship could exist only as it related to a case or a task, so that they could simply be together without a reason for doing so. Maybe if she stopped asking him to justify why he came over or called, he would do so more often, just because.

“Sure, beer sounds great,” he replied, slipping off his shoes and making for the couch. He had nothing in his hands, seemingly no agenda, and that fact both thrilled her and made her uncomfortable. The discomfort, she knew, was part of her defense mechanisms, and so she chose to ignore it. Another brick fell away with a THUNK as she plopped down beside him, on the middle cushion rather than the opposite end as she normally would.

“What have you been up to today?” She asked, handing him his open bottle while taking a swig of her own. His thick fingers brushed over hers as he took the beer from her hand and she caught his eye briefly.

“Not much, I’ve just been over at the gunmen’s, playing Monopoly of all things.” He pivoted his body towards hers, draping an arm over the back of the couch behind her head, which felt like some kind of embrace though they weren’t touching at all.

“Ah, who won?” She asked, curling her legs underneath her torso so that she could also face him, the side of her body leaning on the back of the couch, his arm close enough that she could smell the soap on his skin.

“Nobody, we just stopped playing. I don’t think I’ve ever finished a game of Monopoly, actually.” He shifted slightly and she felt his fingertips brush over the back of her neck momentarily, sending a shiver up her spine.

“What? How can you just stop without anyone winning?!” She was genuinely incredulous.

Mulder chuckled good-naturedly. “Not everyone is as competitive as you, Scully. We were just playing for fun, it doesn’t matter who won.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “That approach would not fly in the Scully household.”

“I’m suddenly getting an idea of why you never played sports in school,” he teased, touching her neck on purpose this time, squeezing gently. Without allowing herself to think about it, she leaned into his touch like a cat, or a flower seeking sunlight. Encouraged, he threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of her skull and kept them there.

“No,” she replied, though her voice was a little softer, her breath a little less even, “I never played sports because I’m terrible at them.”

“Really? I was under the impression that there’s nothing you aren’t good at.” His eyes were on her lips, studying them as though he was seeing them for the first time. In what was an unconscious tick, her tongue slipped out and ran along the seam of her mouth. She saw his eyebrows jump almost imperceptibly.

“I don’t like doing things I’m not good at, so I generally avoid them,” she answered, trying to ignore the way his fingertips whispered against her skin, and the resulting throb between her legs.

“What are you bad at, other than sports?” He asked, and she was momentarily lost in the flutter of his eyelashes and the green flecks in his irises as they traversed her face, cool and serene and without nervousness. He always seemed so comfortable and in his element, unflappable in a way that she often envied. His eyes fixed on hers and she realized she was staring, but forced herself not to look away.

“Puzzles. I suck at puzzles,” she finally answered, and his mouth quirked into a smile that she mirrored, just because his smile made her happy.

“I’ve seen you do puzzles, Scully. Difficult ones.”

She nodded, humming at the feeling of his fingers rubbing against her scalp with the movement. “Once I start I have to finish it, but that doesn’t mean that I like it, or that I’m any good at it.”

“Ah, yes, that sounds like the Scully I know,” he said, slipping his hand away from her and returning his arm to the back of the couch. “Maybe we should play Monopoly sometime, see it all the way through,” he added, not seeming to notice the fact that every atom in her body was straining towards him, desperate to feel his touch again.

“I’m not sure that’s a good plan. We may not be friends when the game is over, regardless of who wins. Perhaps something lower stakes, like Candy Land,” she said with a smirk.

Mulder shook his head in mock-doubt. “I dunno, Scully, I can just envision you getting the cupcake card when you’re up by chocolate mountain. You’ll flip the table.” She screwed up her mouth but didn’t deny it. “How about strip poker? There are no losers in that game.”

She imagined Mulder peeling off his boxers after a bad hand, unable to conceal his arousal. Or maybe it would be her, revealing herself to him bit by bit. Her nipples tightened at the thought, and she saw his eyes dart down to her chest, noticing. Of course she wouldn’t be wearing a bra when she wasn’t expecting company.

“Isn’t the person who ends up naked the loser in strip poker?” She asked rhetorically, the verbalizing of nakedness a thrill in itself. Not that they hadn’t both seen each other naked before, but they seemed to have an unspoken agreement that incidental eyefulls during times of medical emergency didn’t count.

“Technically speaking, yes, but if they aren’t particularly opposed to getting naked in the first place, that too can be a win.” He took a swig of his beer, and Scully suddenly remembered hers existed and did the same. “So you’d last, what,” he looked over her body, calculating how many items of clothing she was wearing, imagining not only what he could see but what lay beneath, “Four rounds at most. You don’t have socks on, that’s a disadvantage.”

She took a deep breath, summoning courage. “Only two, actually. You caught me at a bad time, strip poker wise.” She took another drink to cover her shock at her own admission.

Mulder’s eyes narrowed as he appraised her again. Pants and shirt. Oh. He shifted a little.

“Do you make a habit of not wearing underwear, Scully?” He ventured, the pitch of his voice one she was not well acquainted with. His mouth held a playful smirk, but his eyes betrayed his true reaction to what she’d said.

“Why do you ask?” She returned, question for question.

He smiled like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Just curious,” he said, heat rising in his cheeks.

She nodded, then diverted the focus to him. She’d had about as much as she could handle. “You’ve got about…6 losing hands to work with?” She asked, guesstimating. “Unless you’re also not wearing underwear,” she added cheekily.

“On the contrary, I’m outfitted in my favorites,” he said, leaning forward to set his beer on the coffee table before he leaned back and pulled up his shirt, revealing the ripples of his abdomen and a trail of soft brown hair that disappeared into his jeans. Scully suppressed a moan. He tugged the waistband of his boxers above his jeans to reveal a pattern of tiny cartoon Elvis’ on a black background.

“Those are very adult underwear, Mulder,” she teased him, and he tucked them away but stayed reclined like that, hands folded on his belly. There was still a sliver of flesh visible between his shirt and pants, which she pointedly avoided looking at.

He tilted his head up to look at her, their faces closer now in his reclined position. “I’d ask to see yours, but…y’know.” He arched his eyebrows and flicked his eyes over her body quickly.

“Maybe some other time,” she replied, a coy smile on her mouth.

“May-be,” he returned.

They were quiet for a moment, which turned into a minute, and felt like an eternity. It was the kind of silence that demanded action, shit or get off the pot kind of silence. She felt the hairs on her arms stand up, anticipation pricking her skin like a sunburn. Do something, she told herself. She parted her lips to speak, but no words came out.

“I should get going,” he said abruptly, and sat up. It felt like a bucket of cold water. Had he interpreted her hesitation as disinterest? She stood dumbly and followed him to the door. “Thanks for the beer,” he said, hand on the knob, and she nodded.

Just before he was about to pull the door closed behind him, he stopped. “Hey, next time I go to the Gunmen’s for game night, you wanna come with?”

She smiled tightly, “yeah, that sounds fun.”

He heaved a sigh that sounded like relief and smiled. “Great, I’ll let them know. Though I really recommend you wear underwear going over there. Never can be too careful with Frohike around. You know how he feels about you.” She chuffed a small laugh, and he added “can’t say I blame the guy.” Giving her one more glance from head to toe, he left.

Brick by brick. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. One day they would get there.

Tagging @today-in-fic thank you!

[idkcantthinkofaname]

It takes time/14

Pairing: BTS x Reader

Gene:angst, kind of gets heated 

Warning: cussing, nothing really else at this moment 

Summary:after finally getting the house y/n always wanted, she find a hybrid hiding in an old shed. Unlike most people who find strays, y/n doesn’t turn him into h.c mainly because there was a lot of shady things that happened with the hybrid control in the area. 

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A thunderstorm raged outside. Most of us were sitting in the living room with candles lit since the electric was knocked out a while ago. Taehyung insisted that he was to cuddle with me since it was jimins turn to sleep in my room. Though Seeing how none of the others had made a move to hurt me, heck namjoon showed he wasn’t all that hostile towards me, I don’t see why they still insist on it.

Taehyung made it clear that was what we agreed upon and I couldnt back out. Not that was what I meant...

Sadly though Yoongi and jungkook hasn’t made any efforts to come around. I was hoping they would have by now, but I couldn’t force them to interact with me.

I won’t lie, it did kinda stings when I’m not in the same room, they would talk and laugh with the others..but the moment I walked into the room, or even just close to it. They would shut down.

I let out a hefty sigh.

“What’s on that beautiful mind of yours?” Ask Taehyung as he snuggled closer to me. We had been curled up in the end of the couch with Taehyung next to Hoseok. He had his tail wrapped around my waist and his arm around my shoulders.

I smiled at slightly blushed. “Nothing.”

Taehyung eyed me for a second then snuggled close to my neck. “I don’t like you lying.”

I smiled. “I don’t have to tell you everything Tae....ouch!” I flinched away as far as I could. Which wasn’t far since I was already pressed against the arm of the couch. “Tae, why did you nip me!”

I touched the spot where he had nipped me. “Well you said..” SMACK! “Ouch! Hyung!”

I looked up to see Namjoon standing behind Tae. “Don’t be biting her. It’s rude.”

Taehyung smirked and crossed his arms. “I didn’t even bite that hard for you to come all the way from your room.”

Namjoon huffed. “Just thought since we are going to be in this house together. Might as well get along.” Namjoon sat down on the other couch next to jin. Who was grinning really hard. I sat there shocked, because Yoongi and jungkook came into the living room and stood behind namjoon. Taehyung who was still smirking wrapped his arms back around my waist.

The storm raged on outside as Jin got out some old board games of mine and set them out for all of us to play. Though it did take sweet talk from Hobi to get Yoongi and jungkook to play at least uno. Jungkook was really good that this game. After a few more rounds we all decided it was time to call it a night. The storm was slowly calming down enough. Though the electricity was still out, it seemed safe enough to go to bed.

“Come on doll, time for bed.” Jimin held out his hand. I smiled as I placed my hand in his, pulling me out of Taehyung grip. He laced our fingers together.

“So you all just take turns sleeping with her?” Ask Yoongi.

We looked at him. “Yes.” Jimin smiled down at me. I smiled back slightly then looked back towards Yoongi. Jungkook to his side was starring really hard at the floor.

“We aren’t going to hurt her.” Said namjoon.

“You aren’t really one of the ones we are worried about.” Yoongi just smirked and jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Still, we agree that for y’all to be allowed to stay we were to sleep in the same room as her.” Taehyung said crossing his legs and giving the three a pointed look.

“That is the only way we would agree to allow you back in here after what young jungkookie and Yoongi have done.”

Namjoon jaw tighten and his eyes ran over all of us.

“Listen, they aren’t going to do anything to me. We don’t have to..” Jimin turned me towards him.

“We can not changing what we agreed on. Plus even if they aren’t going to hurt you. We aren’t stopping when it’s my turn.” He pouted.

I smiled slightly and patted his head. “Okay okay.”

Jimin smiled and pulled us towards my room. “Good night!” he shouted as he shut the door. 

Jimin snuggled into bed while I got dressed. Have taking Jin advice I had long pj on. Jimin open the blanket and his arms for me to cuddle to him. I couldn’t help but smile and blush as I crawling into his arms. He was nice and warm compared to the chill that was in the house. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and dipped his head into my neck.

“Even if they end up leaving, I don’t think any of us will allow you to sleep alone.” He leaned back to look at my face. “I hope you understand that.”

He smiled, placed his hand on my cheek and rubbed his thumb against it. 

“get some sleep love.” he wrapped his arm back around me. “before we start something that I will not have the strength to stop” 

I blushed and hid my face into his chest. “why is it always about sex with you guys?” 

Jimin giggled. “mating is a natural thing for us. Especially when we find our mates.” 

He brought my face back up towards his. “you have no idea on how badly I would love to strip those pajamas off of you. So, I can be the first one to know how you taste.” his irises grew wide. “Still jealous that Tae got the first kiss. Though, Jin think he was the first one.. I wonder how he would react if we told him the time Tae kissed those lips before we were even here?” He gripped onto my waist.  

“Jimin, let's not go starting anything that is unnecessary.” I was blushing so hard by the way he was looking and speaking. His voice was low and deeper from his usual tone. It set a shiver down my spine. He noticed.  

“My sweet y/n” he leaned closer until our lips were only a breath away. “oh, fuck behaving.” with that he crashed out lips together. Taking full control, he had one of his hands on the back of my head to deepen the kiss. Tongue rolling over my bottom lip, begging for me to let him in. I gripped onto his arm and parted my lips. His tongue dove straight in, sweeping over mine and making sure that he got to taste every bit of my mouth. He leaned more into me causing me to be on my back. 

He groaned as he pulled back for us to be able to breathe again. “God you don’t know how long, I have wanted to do that.” He pecked my lips. I stared up at him.  

“Don't worry love, I won't push you farther then what you are comfortable with, even if I can smell how turned on you are right now.” he smirked. “similar to when we lick your neck.” 

“What? So Yoongi was right....you all knew...” I slide away slightly, but his arms didn’t let me get too far.  

Jimin eyes turned into the bright brown color of his fox. “that little snitch. None of us were going to say anything, since we could tell that you would not have been comfortable with it at the time.” he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Let's get some sleep...” Jimin sighed and pulled me back to him, He wrapped his tail around my leg. Rubbing is face against the top of my head. The blush from the kiss was still hot on my cheeks, I really don’t think I have been kissed with that much passion and heat. Jin’s was nice and sweet but this..this had been more...more. I shook my head. These hybrids I could already tell where getting me in ways that I don’t think the man that I was once going to marry had. This was all new..

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Next

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Note: got a little heated didn't it? well don't worry this chapter coming up will be a lot worse! One member wants his time and he is going to get it. Still, There will be time between these chapters, do to work! I promise I will get them out! things will start to move quickly here, some things are going to happen in the future that might seem a little dark to people. I will say that it will not get too bad, but some dark things will have to happen for the story to go how I envision it, and for things to be set up for the “Times change” Again ateez is tagged because there will come into play here soon! 

[ncitygirls]

matryoshka - part 1, 4k

sibling!johnny, taeyong x f reader, mark x f reader, platonic/‘sibling’!haechan

nct crime au, angst, cw: character death, death, mental illness, police, injury, violence

300 days

There are few people who can disarm a man like Johnny Seo. Since the rather untimely, and inexplicable death of his mother and father at the tender age of fourteen, he quickly adopted this persona. He considers it a token from his late mother. She had always said, in a voice as soft as the breeze in spring, that to be polite is to be in control. He holds himself to that quite forcibly, reminding himself time and time again that there is power in making others fold to him. At time it is as simple as approaching an adversary with a smile, and awaiting the flare in their skin, the bugle in their veins and the ripple in their muscles. There are few who can disarm Johnny Seo. But few does not equate to none.

“When will you discharge her?” Johnny began, the words rolling off of his tongue with an air of nonchalance that bordered on flippancy, but an edge that was new to even him.

“Mr Seo,” without thinking, Johnny rolls his neck, bracing himself for a response he knows he will refuse. He thinks it odd to loathe an act he is yet to commit, especially when he can still prevent it. What he hates more however, is that you are here to witness it. When the doctor sighs, letting his glasses hang around his neck, he smiles sympathetically. Johnny sees nothing but pity. “I’m not sure how else to say this, but physically? Your sister is stable enough to go home. When we went in to remove what was left of the bullet fragments and saw to her ruptured spleen, we managed to mend her torn ligaments. Her blood work came back clear, and for the most part, her vitals are stable. With a few weeks of physio, I think we would be able to discharge her. Ideally, she could go home this week.”

“Wonderful,” Johnny’s hollow cheer guides his hasty movements as he, unthinking, strips you of your blanket to reveal a sight he thinks might change his mind. Rows of red line your skin, moons of dried blood covering the heels of your palms. He cringes at the dirty cotton cuffs that strap you to the metal frame of your hospital bed. Johnny can’t seem to make sense of the sight. “Did this happen during the shooting?”

“No, Mr Seo,” the doctor shakes his head, his frustration with his patient’s only living relative shedding every second he watches Johnny take in your limp frame. “It is like I was saying. Miss Seo is fit enough to leave. But mentally-”

Johnny simply raises his palm, ignoring the tears that pool in and out the corners of your eyes, a steady stream gathering in your hairline as you relive the events the two refer to so flippantly. “She will do better at home.” It is unclear for whom the assurance is intended. The doctor, you, himself. It is all just hope. So it doesn’t matter. “She will do better once she’s home.”

“Mr Seo, as your sister’s physician, I must implore you to reconsider.” Johnny understands where the doctor is coming from, he truly does. Johnny, taught well by his father, prides himself in being understanding. Like his father before him, Johnny prides himself in being calm in the face of not only danger, but regular folk - those who go about their lives, slaves to normalcy. Those who live life year to year, those who plan their lives, who wake up to sleep, expecting to see the sun once again. Those who consider life a right, rather than a privilege. Johnny has come to understand men like this. Not by choice of course, but because he had to. Especially once you met Taeyong.

2,109 days

“I met a guy today,” the words crackle through the phone, Johnny’s fingers stilling as he finally takes a break from his work, placing a mental bookmark on his train of thought. He wants to ask where, but he doesn’t enjoy seeming interested in affairs of the heart. They sicken him. “He was really weird,” you hum as you kick the curb, swinging your arms as you traipse through what Johnny thinks must be your university campus. He pretends he bother to know your schedule, but never has a reason for why he always gets himself up before you leave every morning. “A good weird,” you add, “his clothes hardly fit, they were all baggy. It’s hard to explain.”

“You kids and your trends,” he huffs, spinning in his chair to watch the city, eyes landing on the bell tower of your campus. “What happened to a nicely fitted suit?”

“It’s a college campus, John. Plus, it’s like half ten in the morning,” you can hear his next question before he even asks. “I mentioned his clothes because I wanted you to envision him, not judge him.”

“Well, I am envisioning a bum.”

“Okay, but envision a cute bum,” you try. “A beautiful, cute, funny bum.”

“That is still a bum, y/n.” You hear the faint sound of floor boards creaking, a telltale sign that he’s pacing. “Did he ask you out?” You hum in agreement, always too shy to admit anything so personal outright. It is times like this he wonders why you bother calling him and not just Haechan. He’ll never tell you this however. Lest he lose his spot as your first call. “I hope ope he’s taking you somewhere nice?”

“Yeah, of course,” he knows you’re lying. He knows it’s Hyuck’s you're both going to. Not that there as an issue with Hyuck’s. Even if you’ve already had the menu four different ways, front to back and then back again. It’s where you take all your first dates, you give Haechan a chance to size them up, figure out if they’re worthy. “I just wanted to tell you first because I think he’s a real contender this time.”

“And you’ll be late home, so you won’t be making dinner again?” Your affirming grunt forced a long sigh from Johnny. However, no matter many times he claimed his annoyance was due to your absence inconveniencing him; you both knew the loneliness bothered him now. “Well, have fun.”

“I’ll try,” you sing. “And I’ll bring that coffee cake you love so much, okay?” Johnny offers his own affirming grunt. Though it sits a couple octaves below your own, you hear the sliver of joy he lets through. “Love you.”

He doesn’t respond. He had already hung up.

300 days

“Mr Seo?”

Johnny had finally shrugged off his suit jacket and let his shoulders sag when he heard his name for the umpteenth time that day. He wanta to ignore it, but what would mother say?

“Yes?” SMPA. The badge is hard to read as it glistens under the glaring hospital lights. But he can’t miss the shape, the obnoxious insignia.

“Good evening,” the detective starts, his smiling eyes are in direct contrast to the gloom and doom of the last few days. Johnny wonders if smiling with teeth is proper practice when greeting someone who almost lost their little sister. “I am Detective Lee, I have a few questions for you about the shooting at Hyuck’s Diner. If you have a moment.”

“Of course,” he sighs, straightening his spine. “I am sure you are aware, but I wasn’t there.”

“I think it’s lucky you weren’t,” the detective adds, a sad smile settling on the bed to your right. “I am a friend of Donghyuck’s.”

“Oh,” there’s a short second where Johnny feels an odd sense of comfort, one he believed would only come when you finally opened your eyes. He also feels some guilt. “I didn’t know he had any other friends in Seoul, I tried to reach everyone I could.”

“And thank you for that,” the detective lets his eyes fall on his friend’s unmoving figure for a moment, his gaze returning to Johnny when he feels a familiar prick. “I have been hard at work on this case. I received word you did not wish for your sister to remain in hospital. May I ask why?”

“It is a public hospital,” Johnny responds, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I can afford better.”

“Then why did you let her stay?” The detective asks, scribbling away. Johnny wonders what dictates the parameters of an investigation versus a friendly conversation. “Her psych eval?”

“No,” he sighs, eyeing Haechan to your right. “They wouldn’t let me take him too,” when the detective tilts his head, surprise evident in his round eyes, Johnny lets himself laugh for the first time in over a week. “You wouldn’t want to be me when she wakes up to find I left him behind.”

2,361 days

It is past midnight when you fly into Johnny’s bedroom, a dew gathering on your forehead, chin and neck. In his sleepy haze, he hears only the end of your ramblings, your steps ordered in a manner Johnny can only describe as frantic. It is not in his nature to panic, he leaves such trivialities to you. But when your wide eyes find his, fear brimming as you scramble to get ready, you throw him your phone and he finally sees why.

“There are a bunch of guys who won’t pay up at Hyuck’s and he’s scared. Let’s go.”

That’s how Johnny found himself parked outside Hyuck’s Diner in downtown Seoul, just north of the river. You didn’t give him a chance to park up as you dashed out the still moving vehicle, door left wide open. Johnny is thankful it’s late, but quickly notes it being far too late for Hyuck’s to still be open. As he parks up, he watches you storm into the near empty diner, sees the relief on Haechan’s tired face as you round the bar. Johnny can’t really make out what you’re saying, but he can see the fire in your eyes. He sniggers as he stalks after you, seeing his mother in them too.

“I said, pay up, or give it back.”

“That’s funny,” one of the burly men says, food spitting out his mouth and onto the clean bar top as he laughs in your face. While Johnny only counted two from outside, he can now see a third standing off to the side. When his eyes meet Johnny’s, he falters slightly, thick hands running through his hair as he avoids Johnny’s haunting figure hovering by the only exit. “Who exactly is gonna make us?”

“Me,” you grin, reaching for the back of his head and slamming it hard down onto the bar. You hear Haechan yelp in what you assume is fear for his newly polished, now dented bar top. As the guy to his left lunges at you, you’re quick to utilise your surroundings. Johnny almost applauds your ingenuity as you quickly reach for a used butter knife and practically mutilate the man’s fist. It is then Haechan disappears from your side, his head nearly halfway down the drain pipe as blood splurts onto his newly polished, now dented, now blood stained bar top. The first guy had rounded the bar, only to be met with a fist to the throat, and knee to the gut. Johnny sees you’re expecting something to happen as you repeat the motion before seeing sense. With your hand latched to his collar, you drag his doubled over body out onto the street before you knee him again.

In the middle of the intersection pours his unpaid bill, meeting one end of the deal. Johnny laughs at how visibly dissatisfies you are, considering how long their bill actually was. You fish his wallet out of his back pocket, taking a few hundreds to cover the balance. “Who even carries cash anymore?”

Johnny wonders too as you pass by him, walking back inside and turning on the third guy. “Your friend covered yours, so you’re free to go.” As he scrambles to leave, he keeps his eyes fixed on your brother, halting when Johnny moves to stop him, a lone finger pointing toward the man's weeping companion.

“Take them with you.”

It’s a few seconds before their presence is no more than a distant memory. Johnny is quick to clean the bloody bar top, and rearrange the furniture. He even loads the dishwasher as you tend to a still queasy Haechan. “When I text you, I didn’t think you would do all of that,” he huffs, backtracking as he notes the hurt look in your eyes. “I mean, I am so grateful. Really, I am,” he smirks, fatigue stealing the light that usually fills his eyes. “But I didn’t know you were The fucking Bride.” When you roll your eyes, he presses on, glimpses of his usual self slowly return as the adrenaline begins to kick in. “No, honestly! I wish I had cameras in here because- fuck! That was insane!”

“Alright, whatever. Get your things, you’re staying with us tonight.”

“Do you think they’ll come back?” Haechan asks, the worry in his tone hurting you beyond belief. “Do you think I should call Mark again?”

“Who, the cop? No, they won’t be coming back, trust me,” you hum. When Johnny emerges from the back, drying his hands on a clean rag, you jest, “no thanks to angel eyes over there may I add.”

“Oh my god, hyung! And you!” Haechan restarts, allowing you to pack up his things while he recounts the terror in the third man’s gaze as he locked eyes with your brother. “It’s like he saw a ghost or something.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, grabbing Haechan while Johnny locks up. “Or something.”

It’s nearly dawn when Haechan crashes. It was Monday and he needed to find cover for the open. But getting cover didn’t stop him fretting, and no amount of herbal tea nor booze could settle a frantic Haechan. It is laughable though, how it took no more than a film opening to send him off. You slip away at sunrise, snuggling up to Johnny who gave up on sending you away shortly after your parents passed. However, he still makes sure to express his disdain for the affection.

“At least stick to your side, y/n-”

“Thank you for coming tonight,” you breathe, clearly uninterested in satisfying his request. “I know you have to be up soon, and I’m sorry. But having you there was- yeah. Thank you.”

For the first time in years, Johnny lets you snuggle with him. An hour later, for the first time ever, Johnny lets Haechan do the same. He fears that this might become a pattern, the two of you craving so much affection it might suffocate him. Johnny knows it just might, but has found peace in that. Much like he has found peace in your insistence that Haechan be one of you. Because he is one of you, he too left orphaned at a young age, you took him under your wing. So much like that day, as Johnny falls asleep to the sound of your light snores, he also decides-

300 days

“He’s family.”

“He speaks so highly of you both,” Mark adds, smiling thankfully at your sleeping frame. “But I’m sure he would forgive you for doing what’s best for her.”

“She wouldn’t.” Johnny adds, though a part of him knows he might have trouble forgiving himself.

“What is it you do for a living?” Mark asks, eyes quickly scanning Johnny’s crisp suit. “I can’t say I recall Hyuck ever mentioning it.”

“A bit of this and that,” he jokes, glancing towards you. “That’s what she calls it.” He hates the melancholic tone he has adopted. It is pitiful. “After our parents passed, I took over their pharmaceuticals company just after I turned twenty-one. We dabble in everything; medicine, cosmeceuticals, nutrition, you name it.”

“That must keep you busy.”

“I work from home,” Johnny knows he is being foolish, trying to falsely place an accusation in Mark’s assumption. Johnny knows he fell into the classic trope of throwing himself into his studies, and then his work, just to avoid the harsh reality that his parents were gone and they were never coming back. He would readily admit he abandoned you in the beginning to grieve on your own, to figure it all out on your own. He just wouldn’t take that from a stranger. “I tried to be around for her as much as I could.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Mark’s smile is kind, full of unfiltered sympathy. Johnny wonders if you have to practice such a thing, and if so, whether someone should have the doctors do the same. “I just wonder if you are wearing yourself thin is all.”

“You needn’t worry about such things Detective.” Johnny reminds, drawing the line between the two so simply, his eyes flicking slowly to Mark’s badge. “Worry about the case.”

“Of course,” Mark rushes, scrambling to defend his statement. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“And I you,” when the doctor enters to take both yours and Haechan’s vitals, he greets Mark warmly. Johnny feels no resentment to this warm reception, none whatsoever. But he can’t help but wonder what about him denies him the same warm greeting. He is quickly reminded of the first time he was to meet Taeyong.

1,977 days

“Your knees are shaking the counter, hyung,” Haechan sniggers. He knows he shouldn’t, he does. But he can’t help but bask in his friend’s nerves. How can the coldest man he knows be so scared to meet his sister’s boyfriend. As calm and collected as he behaves, Haechan is no stranger to worry, and it worries him to no end how the evening will go. From what he has heard from you, Taeyong is as nervous as one can be. And yet, your main concern lies in how your brother will react, and Haechan is an empathetic soul. He just knows he will feel it all. “Your vibe is really killing the mood, lighten up.”

“Shut up, kid.” Johnny warns, eyeing his watch every so often. “They’re late.”

Strike one.

“You know what y/n is like, she’s probably trying to talk him out of it.” Haechan notes how innocent Johnny looks with his head tilted, confusion bleeding into his features. “You are pretty scary hyung, maybe she thinks you’m scare him off.”

“Maybe he isn’t worthy then.”

Strike two.

“Or,” Haechan sings, adjusting his embroidered apron, Hyuck’s opening anniversary gift from the very man he is about to berate. “Maybe you’re not ready to watch your sister grow up, so you sabotage everything with your scary eyes and bad vibes,” Haechan shrugs with his chin in his palm, blinking sweetly at Johnny who resists the urge to flick his forehead.

“Don’t you have coffee to go pour?”

Haechan sniggers once more as he does just that, refilling Johnny’s coffee and shrugging. “Or maybe they’re stuck in traffic.”

So he can’t fly?

Strike three.

300 days

After a few hours, Mark returns for a detailed description of the three men he suspects may be involved in the shooting. Johnny says as much as he can recall, even going as far as to emphasise the detective’s lack of involvement. He suspects it is in direct retaliation to his earlier comment and ignores it, though Johnny quickly sees his own guilt reflected back in the detective’s guilt ridden eyes. “Will that be all?”

“Almost-” Mark starts, before glancing over at you. “I just,” he can’t seem to push past the lump in his throat. Johnny has given him everything he knows, that much is true. But after speaking with the doctor, Mark can’t help but wonder. “Why haven’t you tried speaking to her? Doctor Kim said she may respond well to a familiar voice.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

Mark knows it’s a loaded statement. One dripping in regret, in guilt, and in shame. But Mark can’t afford for Johnny to be ashamed. Not with Haechan lying unconscious as you lie there, reliving that day over and over and over again. Mark needs you to wake up. But Mark also swore to never relinquish his compassion. All Mark knows of you is the stories he’s heard through Haechan. Though some have a rosier hue due to his familiarity with you, Mark is sure there is no exaggeration in your case. You are a good person. One who cares deeply, who loves deeply. Mark thinks those parts of you are the ones Johnny can tap into. He just won’t.

“Haechan was my first friend in Korea. When I moved here as a kid, my parents worked at the orphanage he was at. He made fun of my Korean for a year straight before I could finally understand and speak fluently enough to defend myself. But, I guess it was okay, you know? He was helping all the same. I was a scrawny kid, I used to get picked on a lot. He was always there. Even though he got beat up too. He’s in all my earliest- my best memories. growing up. He’s like my brother. If he was awake, I think I’d-”

“But he isn’t,” Johnny reminds, eyes locked on your sunken face. Johnny knows what Mark is doing, he knows the tactic very well. He is quite acquainted with guilt as a form of persuasion. “He’s not awake, detective. The doctor said he doesn’t know if he will ever wake up. You know, I overheard the doctors say they haven’t seen spinal fractures that severe in their fifty years of combined experience. They said if Haechan ever opens his eyes again it will be a miracle. If he walks again? This hospital would be internationally renowned. Those surgeons would be infamous. But they can’t. They can’t so it. They can’t do it because they don’t have the facilities for such an operation, and even if they did, Hyuck couldn’t afford it. Even if he could afford it, y/n would have to wake up and give them the okay, because this idiot made herself his guardian so he could practically sell his soul for the loan for that fucking diner.

“So, I’m sorry, detective. I’m sorry that the only thing standing between you ever seeing your friend again is my selfish sister.”

“Mr Seo-”

“But you must agree, she is selfish. She thinks she’s the only one hurting, the only one who has lost something, lost someone.” Mark only sees what Johnny is doing a few seconds too late. As Johnny raises a lone finger to his lips, his eyes catching on the stream pouring down your temples. Mark’s heart nearly beats out of his chest as your vital signs begin to whir, the machinery at your bedside coming to life as Johnny reminds you that, “people die every day. Our parents, Hyuck’s parents, and now Taeyong-”

“Don’t!” You scream suddenly, your body nearly thrashing off of the bed. Johnny fears the force with which you rise could snap your arms in two, but nothing is more worrisome than the bloody red rimming your crisp white eyes; the visible and painfully rapid rise and fall of your chest; the tremor in your chapped lips. “Don’t! Please! Please don’t say it-”

Johnny had never moved so fast. His hands clinging to your trembling frame as he stroked the back of your head. He chanted quickly in your ear, pleading with you to stay with him as he promises to stay. “I won’t go anywhere, I won’t leave you. Never. I promise. Just please, stay with me, okay? I need you here, Hyuck- Hyuck needs you, okay? I need you to stay with me, we’re all we have. Please, y/n-”

Mark couldn’t help but feel intrusive. His earlier pushing began to feel filthy, unfair, unjust. But how could he know you were this far gone, this distraught. Nothing is more sickening than the soft, croaky ‘yes’ that spills from your lips. Your bloodshot eyes lingering on his frozen frame before you see Haechan. You tremble again, your body nearly convulsing as you recognise the boy beside you.

“Shh, he’ll be okay- I promise- we’ll get him help. I promise you- we’ll be okay.”

Johnny rarely spoke out of hope. He was a man who would cling so tightly to reality, you would sometimes joke that his knuckles would snap from the pressure. But as he holds you tightly in his arms, rocking your hollow frame back and forth, he realises he has nothing more than hope.

But since when has hope ever been enough?

[jungshook69]

Love is a myth :: 03

DISCLAIMER: This doesn’t represent the members’ actions or the army’s actions in any manner it’s pure fiction. This is an original work, do not copy. The taglist is open if you want. Taglist is now closed.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K words

MAIN PAIRING:  musician! Yoongi X waitress! female reader

SIDE PAIRING/S: Jungkook X female reader ; Taehyung X female reader

GENRE: FWB! au ; Strangers to lovers! au

WARNINGS: Implied smut (Forgive me cuz I suck at writing it, no puns intended) ; Mentions of alcohol and smoking (I do not condone smoking) ; Profanity ; Mentions of infidelity ; Heavy angst ; Self loathing (Namjoon’s about to wack me in the head with his slipper) ; I apologize in advance if there’s any spelling errors.

SUMMARY: "You covered your bare form with the silk sheets beneath you, as you watched him walk out your door without a word." // "Love is a myth. All that existed between you two was pure lust." // "The last rule was if anyone of the two of you caught feelings for the other, the deal would be off."

SERIES MASTERLIST: Trailer » Meet the cast » Chapter #1 » Chapter #2 » Chapter #3 » Chapter #4

STATUS: Complete

It was a pleasant morning, and you thought it couldn’t go any better. At least that’s what you thought, before your luck was inevitably snatched away from you.

 You heard a gruff voice clear their throat, in close proximity to you, before they spoke up, “Y-Y/N?”

 You looked up through your round lenses, and your jaw dropped open at the sight. Your eyes roamed the man’s face, unwilling to blink. It took you a nice long 10 seconds, to find your voice, which still came out small and slightly wavered, “J-Jungkook?”

“Hi…” his soothing voice managed to mutter, his shocked expression mirroring your own.

 “Long time no see…” you say with a heavy breath.

 You observed his figure. His beautiful doe eyes were shining with the same sparkle as they did back when you both were lovers. His face had gone from being a bit boyish, or babyish as you liked to call it, to a bit more structured. His jaw had sharpened, although there were no visible wrinkles lining his face, except for some adorable smile lines beside his crescent eyes. His hair was far different from what is was back then. You used to call him coconut head, in owe to his soft brown hair that lay across his forehead. But now his hair was much longer, and a dark shade of black, lengthy enough to be easily pulled back into a man bun. His shoulders were broader and his body looked much more buff, and his arms were fairly big as compared to a few years ago. He was adorned in black trousers and a white button down, with the top 2 buttons undone, giving you a slight peak at the tattoo you had grown to love, on his right collarbone.

 “Do you mind if I take a seat beside you?” his melodious voice asked softly, contrary to his rough exterior.

 “Y-yeah sure…” you said, shutting your journal close and making room for him on the small park bench.

 You lay your hands across your lap, unsure of what to say next. But he saved you the pain and spoke up first, “How have you been?”

 “Good… you?”

 “Great…” he said his gaze fixed on the playground.

 “Still married?” you ask. You want to mentally slap yourself for letting such a question slip, before he interrupts your thoughts.

 “Yes… you see her?” he says pointing to the playground. Your eyes search for a female, perhaps the same height as Jungkook, but your eyes widen at what he says next, “You see that small girl with pigtails on the swing?”

 “Y-Yeah…” you manage to speak.

 “Her name is Hana, she’s my daughter.” He says letting out a deep breath.

 “O-Oh…” you didn’t know why you were surprised. He was married. It had been 6 years. Of course he had a child. You watched as the small girl giggled, as a woman with straight platinum blonde hair, a smile on her lips, stood behind the swing and pushed the little girl back and forth.

 “And that’s my wife… Sana.”

 “Wow… you got a whole family… nice…” you cringe at the words that left your mouth. You felt a twinge of envy. How did everyone around you have their life so put together? Were you the only one who would never settle down with a special someone? Were you only made to work and never love?

 “Not the family I envisioned, but none the less, a happy family.” He whispered to himself. “So… you seeing someone?” he asks.

 “Not at the moment no…” you speak, ashamed of your toxic lust-induced lifestyle.

 You share a moment of silence, both of you keeping your eyes fixed on the playground. “Y-You still where that?” Jungkook spoke up.

 “Huh?” you looked up to see him pointing at your fingers which were unconsciously playing with the band of your silver ring. “O-Oh yeah… umm… just— yeah I wear it… it looks cool…” you cringe in disgust at your word vomit, knowing he wouldn’t buy it.

 But he knew better, and didn’t question it further. You laid motionless as you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You were mad at him. Infuriated even. He left you in the dust. But at the same time, you loved him dearly. He was the only one you could trust in this cruel world. He was the only real thing that happened to your young naïve 16 year old self.

 You immediately froze in your spot when you felt a warm touch of skin on the back of your hand. You looked down to see Jungkook’s tattooed right hand laying over your hand, which was on your lap.

 “I’m sorry Y/N, I’m sorry for doing what I did and hurting you.”

 Your eyes were glossy, tears threatening to overflow, as you fixed your gaze on the woman and the small girl in her arms, as they walked into the neighboring convenience store.

 “We weren’t meant to be…” was all you could muster out.

 “We were meant to be… I was a coward.” He says, his hand not leaving yours.

 “Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault, I pushed it too far, by planning to run away.” You try sounding cold and stern, but it comes out as a whimper.

 “The people were right…” he says, his finger absent-mindedly playing with the ring on your finger. “…the timing was wrong.”

 You control your rapid heartbeat as you feel a tear slip out from your right eye, staining your cheek, as the drop slid down the length of your face. You hear the loud piercing sound of his ringtone, before he picks up the call and puts the phone up to his ear, his hand never leaving yours. You hear the loud voice on the other end.

 “Baby, I got the diapers, I didn’t see you anywhere. Will you come to our car in the parking lot?”

 “Yeah, I’ll be there in 2 minutes.”

 “Okay bye baby!”

 “Bye.”

 You here the beep of the phone call hanging up as you feel his figure shift next to you. You gasp as his hand tightens his grip on yours. You swear your heart stops when you feel his other hand turns your shoulder to face him. This is the first time you’ve looked straight into his eyes, in the last 6 years. He looks at you with the same warmth and guilt, as his large hands clasp your tiny ones.

 “I missed you.” He huffs out.

 “I missed you too. But you have a family to get back to.” You sigh sadly.

 “I hope we meet again Y/N.”

 “I don’t.” you mutter out too low for him to hear. It was too painful even thinking about seeing him again.

 He stands up, his figure looming over yours, before you decide to do the same. He then leans in and wraps his arms around your waist, in an all-too-familiar manner, which breaks the last wall you’ve been holding up. You feel his breath skim the skin on your neck, sending goosebumps down your spine. You feel his warm cheeks brush against your collarbones. You try to hold yourself back from surrendering and dropping yourself in his strong arms right then and there. He slowly backs away from you before you could do so, “Bye Y/N…” he says giving you a sad smile.

 You’re unable to form words, as your hands feel cold, needy to feel his warmth again. You watch his retreating figure, until he disappears behind the rows and rows of cars. You slam your journal into your sling and run back home as fast as your feet can carry you. You promised yourself, you would never let another man get to you. You’d never let another man, make you cry for him again. But you never expected the same man from your past, to break you a second time.

 //

 The first 10 minutes after you reached home, you just blankly started at the white wall in front of you. The next 20 minutes were spent with you cleaning up the mess after you broke a glass plate in anger. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. You’d never been so devastated in the last 6 years. You’d learnt to control your emotions, and to not take love seriously. But when a certain someone had walked into your life for a mere 20 minutes, all of that had gone down the drain. You felt helpless. You felt powerless. How could a man have such an effect on you?

 You were on the ground sweeping a few remnant glass shards, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You opened the door to reveal a smiling Yoongi, a rare sight you would’ve teased him for, if it weren’t for the horrible morning you’d had. His smile immediately dropped on seeing your red eyes, concern washing over his features, “You okay?”

 “Yeah” you mutter out uninterested, walking back into your apartment. You watched him drop his phone and keys onto your shoe stand, as he took off his beanie placing it down, ruffling his soft hair.

 “I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to get an early dinner together, some friends from my college are meeting up. What would you like? Maybe ramen, ooo how about gimb—”

 “You can go without me, I’m not feeling too well…” you say trying to stop your voice from cracking.

 “You sure?” he asks again.

 “Yeah…” you say louder than you intended to speak.

 “O-Oh… ummm okay…” Yoongi says before you here the jingle of his car keys and the click of your front door. Yoongi wasn’t one to pressure people into doing things. He liked giving people space. As soon as he left, you let your tears flow. They were unstoppable. You were still wailing, as your form dropped to the ground, even though there weren’t enough tears to flow out.

 //

 It was 9 PM. Your eyes were puffy and your sinuses hurt from crying for the past 2 hours. Your head was throbbing and your empty bedroom was filled with the sounds of your sniffles. That was before there was a loud knock on your door.

 You slipped out of your bed, still dressed in your pajamas, as you made your way to the door. You peeped through the hole and saw Yoongi’s form leaning against the door frame. You opened the door and made sure to turn around immediately in a feeble attempt to hide your mess of a face.

 “Hey sorry to disturb I left my beanie here.” He said picking it up. His eyes narrowed as you walked back towards your bedroom. “You can close the door on the way out.” You say, failing to contain a crack in your voice.

 Yoongi notices and closes the door, with him still inside. “Y/N, seriously what’s wrong?” he asks.

 “Nothing, I just have a cold…” you sigh, your back facing him.

 You hear his consequent footsteps getting closer as his hand lands on your shoulder, whipping you around. His eyes widen, as he sees your puffy red eyes, and distraught face stained with dried tears.

 “A cold huh?” he says his eyebrows furrowed.

 “Yeah…” you say softly, sniffling.

 “What’s going on Y/N?” he says, his tone serious.

 “Why do you care? You’re my fuck buddy, not my counselor!”

 “I’m your friend, before any of that.” He says sternly, before he grabs your petite withering form in his strong arms for a tight hug. Your face collides with his firm chest and before you can overthink it, you wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your face closer into his warm neck. His hand threads through your hair as he whispers, “It’s okay I’m here…”

 //

 You woke up to the sound of a phone ringing off the hook. You were quick to realize that it wasn’t your ringtone. Your eyes fluttered open as you realized the position you had slept in. Your arm remained draped over Yoongi’s chest, and you were snuggled into the crook of his arm. You were leaning into him, while he had slept partially upright on your couch. Your legs were covered by a blanket, while Yoongi’s feet were propped up on the coffee table.

 It all came back to you. How you had cried onto his shoulder for the umpteenth time that night. How he had cuddled your shivering form and insisted to stay with you, afraid of leaving you alone. You carefully let go of his sleeping form, trying very hard not to wake him up. You reached over to see a phone call from an unknown number, and put his phone on silent. You checked to make sure he hadn’t woken up. You got up and pushed your hair into a neat ponytail. You blinked hard to get the remnant sleep out of your pupils, as you tried to decipher everything that happened yesterday. Yoongi had stayed over with you… why? It went against the rule you’d made in your agreement. You weren’t complaining though because you needed someone last night. And you were more than glad that it was Yoongi. You just didn’t take him to be the type to break the ‘cuddling’ rule.

 You cleared your mind of all these thoughts, brushed your teeth and took a much-needed shower. By the time you were out of the shower, in your work clothes, you found Yoongi awake, sitting upright on the couch, his head hung low, hands cupping the back of his neck. You slowly walked towards the back of the couch and laid your hands on his shoulders, your thumbs extending to press into the back of his neck. He visibly flinched, not expecting your presence, but soon relaxed under your touch.

 “I’m sorry, your neck must be hurting because of the uncomfortable position you slept in last night…” you say, with a guilt-ridden voice.

 “No it’s okay…” he hummed out.

 You make your way around the couch and sit next to him. Confrontation. It was the solution to every problem. “Seriously, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have forced you to stay last nigh—”

 “I stayed… because I wanted to stay.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the time?”

 “O-Oh… it’s 10 am.”

 “Don’t you have to leave for work in 10 minutes?”

 “We have to leave for work.” You say chuckling.

 “O-Oh… I was actually thinking of not coming in today… ya know… my back hurts and stuff…”

 You were suspicious of his stuttering but decided that you tortured him enough, and just let it slide. “Well I have to leave, you can take a shower if you want, you already know where it is, and please close the door when you leave, okay?” you say grabbing your purse and your coat.

 “Yeah sure… hey Y/N?” he says.

 You stop in front of the door.

 “Are you okay?” he says sincerely.

 “Yeah I am, thank you Yoongi…” you smile and leave for work.

 //

  While you were in your own little bubble, occupied at work, Yoongi, having showered and carefully locked up your apartment, was headed to a certain someone’s humble abode, on his day off. He stood before the wooden door, as he knocked, waiting for his doom residing on the other side of the door. The door opened to reveal a familiar female, long pink hair pulled into space buns, her lips chewing on a pencil.

 “Yoongi… didn’t expect to see you back here after a month… come in…”

 //

 “Actually I’m gonna make it quick” Yoongi says rubbing his palms together. “Where is Maria?”

 “Oh she actually had to turn up at work, they were understaffed today…” her pink-haired roommate said.

 “Oh okay thanks for your help.” He says leaving the doorstep, headed back to the restaurant. He walked in, and his eyes immediately searched for you. You were nowhere to be seen so he assumed that you were probably back in the kitchen. Then his eyes searched for a female with a short black bob, in uniform and spotted her at a table, close to the washroom. He walked up to her and tapped her shoulder.

 “Oh Yoongi, hey…” Maria said, surprised to see him.

 “Yeah hey, can we talk?”

 She smirked at his question, assuming that wanting to “talk” was code for a hook up. She latched onto his collar and pulled him discretely towards the washroom. Before Yoongi could protest she slammed him against the empty washroom walls.

 Yoongi never got to say, what he wanted to, what he had gone all the way to her apartment for. His mouth was clasped shut when Maria’s heavily-glossed lips landed on his own. He struggled to push her off, but before he could pry her off of him, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing, and a washroom stall door creaking open. He finally pushed Maria away and met your eyes, widened in shock.

 You stood there, horrified, as you watched Maria smirking at you, an eyebrow raised in a challenging manner. You looked over to see Yoongi panting, against the wall, his lips swollen and smeared with Maria’s red lipstick. You held your whimpers in, and merely walked, no more like rushed out of the humiliating scene.

 You walked out the back kitchen door and took in a deep breath. You calmed yourself down and did not allow any tears to flow. He was kissing her. So what? You were no one to decide who he kisses, much less sleeps with! You both had mutually decided upon staying anonymous about your personal affairs. Then why did it hurt? Why did it hurt to watch another woman lunge herself at that man? Why?

 Your thoughts were interrupted by Maya’s voice, “Hey ummm… the customers are starting to line up, we need your help.”

 “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You respond facing away from her.

 “Okay…”

 //

 Back in the washroom Yoongi watched you leave, his mind in utter chaos. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks in frustration, turning to Maria.

 “You were the one who wanted to ‘talk’.” She says scoffing.

 “Yeah I wanted to ‘talk’, literally talk.”

 “Don’t lie to yourself Yoongi. We’re both hot and we both obviously have a lot of sexual tension between us. What would it take for you to let go off her puny ass for once and give us another try?”

 “I already told you! When I slept with you a month ago, it was a mistake! We were both shit drunk!”

 “What does she have that I don’t?”

 “She has some god damn respect and dignity. She doesn’t just throw herself at me, when I say no. No means no. At least she respects my decision.”

 “Jeez what happened to you Yoongles? You were never like this… like a lost puppy following around that bitch Y/N.”

 “Don’t you dare call me Yoongles.” He says, his tone dead serious. “And look in the mirror when you call Y/N that.”

 “You’re just as fucked up as she is.” She says scoffing.

 “Just stay away from me. I’m never gonna come back to you and sleep with you. Give up already and find someone else to latch onto.” With that Yoongi leaves the washroom and exits the restaurant, feeling an unhealthy amount of guilt in his heart.

 //

 When you got absorbed into work, you couldn’t care less about Yoongi’s absence. But your eyes did drift over to the young gentlemen who was playing in Yoongi’s place today, and everytime you looked over, your eyes would drop down in disappointment of the person that met your eyes. Maria pretended like nothing happened and you went along with it. Confronting her would lead nowhere sensible.

 Soon it was night time, well more like early morning time, and you were walking down the dark midnight streets, Jackie and Mark by your side. You had all decided to walk to a bar down the street and have a few drinks before turning in for the night. You needed to drown your misery in shots, and were more than happy to receive an invitation to accompany your friends.

 “Y/N?” Jackie spoke up.

 “Yeah?”

 “Please don’t be mad…”

 “Oh no, what did you do?”

 “I observed that you sorta looked sad today. And I wanted to cheer you up…”

 “Oh no…”

 “I’m afraid to say it, but yes… I kinda reached out to a good friend of Mark’s and set you up on a blind date for tomorrow night.” She finishes.

 “What?!” you exclaim.

 “I’m sorry okay, but I thought you needed to brighten up a bit…”

 “First of all what were you thinking, setting me up on a work night? It’s Tuesday tomorrow for Christ’s sake!”

 “It’s the only time he was free! He has a busy schedule okay?” Mark defends, looking up from his phone screen.

 “Ohh Mr. businessman is busy. I hate boring people, I’ll pass.” You say rolling your eyes.

 “He’s a model… wait for it… for Gucci.” Jackie says, eyes shining.

 “Keep talking…” you said, suddenly interested.

 “His name is Taehyung. Age 24, same as yours. Aspiring to become an actor. Currently a model for Gucci. Also… he’s a god damn work of art.” Jackie says.

 “I should be jealous, but I can’t lie, he’s too pretty to be human.” Mark says pitching in.

 “Hmm…” you quietly think to yourself.

 “Please, just try it out once? Get out there, have some fun!” Jackie pleads.

 “Why the fuck not? YOLO right?” you say chuckling, heading to the bar, to drown all your obsessive thoughts.

 //

 Unlike waking up to your neighbor’s baby screaming loud enough to summon Satan like always, you wake up to a throbbing in your forehead. Your eyes scan your surroundings and finally focus on the clock on your wall. 11 am! You had to be at work in 15 minutes. You ran around your apartment, your brush in your mouth, one hand through the sleeve of your white button down, the other searching your dresser for your hairbrush.

 You were at work. Even though you were 15 minutes late, and looked as though you had just survived a hurricane, you were still present, and that’s what mattered. Luckily, Mark had taken care of inventory for you, so that left you with enough time to polish yourself in the restaurant washroom before the doors opened for business. The washroom brought back unwanted memories from a day ago, but you ignored those, and focused on fixing yourself up, trying to make yourself presentable enough to match the class of the restaurant.

 //

 You were in your pajamas, happier than ever, watching a really good kdrama, ‘Its okay not to be okay’, definitely recommend 10 outta 10. Your work shift had ended early. You all had gotten a call from the owner and manager Kim Seokjin, that there was gonna be an extermination. You couldn’t be happier as you relaxed into the comfort of your couch. It hadn’t been 3 minutes into the new episode, when someone knocked on your door. You groaned in irritation.

 “Just as it was about to get good.” You huffed out and approached the door.

 You opened the door to a rather dim looking Yoongi. “Oh hi… ummm… wassup? Were the only words you could form.

 “Can we talk?” Yoongi asks rubbing the back of his neck.

 “Sure come in…” you say stepping back and closing the door behind him.

 “I’ll get straight to the point…” Yoongi sighs. “What you saw, it wasn’t what you think happened.”

 “What’re you talking about?” you asked chuckling nervously.

 “You know exactly what I’m talking about Y/N.”

 “Oh that… yeah right…”

 “Listen, I just want to clarify that yes I did sleep with Maria a month ago, back when we never used to talk, when we used to ignore each other 24/7. But I haven’t slept with her since. What you witnessed today was me telling her to back off, but she kissed me without my consent, and you happened to walk in at a bad time.”

 You let out a huge sigh and folded your arms. “And why’re you telling me this?”

 Yoongi’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion. To that, you poke again, “I don’t control who you sleep with or who you choose to date Yoongi. We had a deal. We don’t get involved in each other’s personal lives.”

 “Well I’m sorry if I seemed to be ‘involved in your personal life’ after we told each other something that I thought was personal to both of us.” He speaks out, in irritation.

 You looked down at your ring and remember how you had told him about your past. You remembered how you both had shared a moment, sitting at the piano, which reminded you of the fact that he had also shared his past with you. But you were scared, terrified even. You were scared to let someone close to your heart again, afraid of being left alone again. You were frightened that someone would finally get through the tough walls you’d put up around yourself, and steal your fragile heart, only to break it into a million pieces again. The pain was too much.

 “Well maybe we shouldn’t have shared that with each other!” you yell out without thinking twice.

 You heard nothing but silence on Yoongi’s end. It took a minute before he spoke up, “So you regret it huh?” his voice alarmingly calm.

 “I-I- I don’t know…” you say, unsure guilt settling in your heart.

 “Well that just about explains every fucking doubt I’ve been having about this relationship.”

 “That’s not wha—” you protest.

 “Save it.” He said sternly. “I made a mistake. I tried to get us to be friends. We should go back to our old ways. Just text each other when we’re needy, and ignore each other at all other times. Got it. If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” He storms out of the apartment, slamming the door with a loud bang on the way out.

 You felt a tremendous guilt envelope your heart. You didn’t want things to go the way they did just now. He was never the issue. It was you. You were the coward who had commitment issues. And you didn’t want him to waste his time trying to get you to open up. This was the only way. You were never suited for love. It was always lust.

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