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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

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Draw your swords, pt. 13

Summary: Terrified of losing Y/N, the Darkling lets his defenses fall.

Warnings: angst, slight fluff, sexual content

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five // Part six // Part seven // Part eight // Part nine // Part ten // Part eleven // Part twelve

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“Stay with me”, the Darkling trembled as he rushed back to the camp. He held her body close to his chest, her head slumped right where his heart beats thunderstorms in her name.

She’s slipping away, he can feel it. The injuries she suffered and the power she used weakened her irreversibly.

He should be angry with her, enraged, but he had no strength to spare for violent emotions. His heart couldn’t bare much more than the pain he found himself drowning in. It wasn’t the pain of his own wounds, rather the pain of her parted lips and ragged breaths that came like final gushes of air her lungs released.

“HEALER!” He shouted, hoping, praying to the Saints he never believed in before.

“HEALER!” There was something in his screams for help, an unimaginable pain behind it.

Y/N’s fingers twitched, her chest rising in a strange manner; what should expand with an inhale suddenly draws in, a paradox he had seen in dying soldiers.

“HEALER!” It was the kind of scream that went straight for the heart.

Everyone tensed, following the Darkling – a man who never showed genuine emotion other than rage. His call for healers felt like a cry from the heart and soul that stretched across the foundations of who he is. The anguish tore through him as he saw a healer run toward him.

Letting out a shuddered breath in relief, he collapsed to his knees. “Not me!” He growled as the healer tried placing her hands on him, “Help her! Save my wife!”

Nodding, the healer looked down at Y/N with wide eyes. Another healer arrived too, then another, and another.

The Darkling refused to let her out of his embrace as two of the healers tried to take her away. “No!”

“We have to take her”, the first healer insisted. “She doesn’t have long and we have to act fast and that’s not going to happen while you’re clinging to her!” Eyes wide, she covers her mouth as it dawns on her who she’s speaking to. “Respectfully, General.”

Staring at her with raw suffering, Aleksander licked his trembling lips. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her temple instead of her forehead – forehead kisses in this moment would feel as if he’s kissing her corpse before her final rest.

He couldn’t stomach that thought.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you”, he whispers.

This isn’t how it’s meant to be, how it’s supposed to be. He could never believe anyone ever loved anyone the way he loves her.

Nothing ever made him so frightened as the thought of losing her.

“Take her”, Mal tells them. Looking down at Kirigan who seemed incapable of standing back up on his own, he realized he had to take over.. “And send someone for your General. Send everyone for the wounded in the field.”

Aleksander looked up, jaw clenched and eyes swimming in tears he has yet to shed.

“I’m not leaving”, Mal quipped. “She’s my General.”

Y/N wasn’t able to scream, despite the pain darkening her mind. She tried to focus on her breathing, on staying alive. The only awareness she had was of Aleksander’s arms around her – she felt his scent. When he touched her face, when he tried to gain her attention, she couldn’t open her eyes. Her ears kept ringing, mixing with a rumbling inside his chest. She managed to blink her eyes open once, just one more time to see him, but all she managed to get was a glimpse of his chin and beard.

She wondered how he’d look without it, if it would make him seem boyish, softer. Maybe it would have erased the burden on his shoulders - they may be wide, but they shouldn’t have to carry all that weight alone.

Suddenly, his scent was gone. She tried to reach for him, but her arms could not move, hanging freely instead. Cold seeped in, clinging to her insides, wrapping itself around her heart.

Slowly, her agony had faded. The pain gradually lifted, dissipating like fog. For a moment, she wondered if this is what death feels like – no more pain? No more suffering? Being alone and cold?

Despite everything, if she had a choice, she’d embrace the pain. If pain means she would return to him, to his warm arms, she’d gladly suffer.

Dizzy, confused, she felt herself being pulled up into reality. The disjointed haze receded enough for her to make sense of the world around her. Her eyelids feel heavy as she opens her eyes, the edges of her vision flickering. Blinking fast, her eyebrows knitted as her vision blurred.

‘Aleksander’, she wanted to call, but couldn’t say a word.

How odd it is that he’s the last one she thought about when she thought she’d die and he’s still the first one to come to mind when she wakes?

She no longer felt cold. He always had the ability to keep the cold away.

Sniffling, she jerked her hands away as she became aware of another’s touch. Sitting up on a table she was laid upon, she pulled herself aside before looking to the one who touched her earlier.

“It’s just me”, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I needed to see you.” His voice is soft, sweet like honey.

Scoffing, she narrows her eyes at him and the cup of water he held out for her to take. Her mouth is dry, her throat like sandpaper. She may be angry with him, but the water he held out felt more important than their fight.

“Are you in any pain?” He asks, watching her drink all of the water in one go. “I could have them come and take it away.”

Letting out a loud sigh, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Raising an eyebrow, she licked her dry lips.

“Can they take you away?”

Snorting, he suppresses a smile. As long as she’s capable of annoying him, she’s going to be fine.

“What were you thinking?” Threading his fingers through his hair, Aleksander frowned. “You could have died.”

“Would have saved you a lot of trouble in the future”, she quips. Standing, she stumbles.

Feeling his hands on her waist, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Even now, when she’d like nothing more than to walk away, her body reacts to him. Looking up at him, she inhales sharply as she sees the tears in his eyes.

“I’m scared”, he admitted and she blinked.

“Of what?” She frowned, “Me?” Does her power frighten him? Because it frightens her.

He shook his head, “Of me”, he looked at her. His hands trembled as they touched her skin, “I’m scared of hurting you.”

“I’m scared of you hurting me, too.”

Dropping his hand, he takes a step back. “I don’t think I’m capable of ever hurting you.”

“Tell that to my neck”, she remarks. Her hand brushes over where his hand had tightened its grip just the night before, fixing his gaze on him. He seemed to regret it.

‘Good’, she thought. ‘I hope it haunts him, because it will haunt me.’

“I apologize”, Aleksander swallows thickly. He can’t remember the last time he apologized to someone. A part of him questioned if he ever apologized for anything he’s done in his unusually long life. “I had no right to act the way I did.”

“You once told me I could choose the way to punish you if you ever hurt me”, she takes his hand, intertwining their fingers.

Aleksander nods, “I’m a man of my word.”

“What’s your name”, she asks. “Real name.”

His eyes locked on hers like magnets of different polarities. Isn’t that exactly what they are? She’s his polar opposite in every way, fated to attract.

“Aleksander Morozova.” He uttered a name long forgotten; a name he wanted to forget.

Aleksander was a weak boy who failed everyone that cared for him. He was soft, young, naïve and a damned fool for ever believing Grisha would ever be free. Even now as he elevated their status, Grisha had to serve a human – the Tsar.

Her eyes held barely contained anger. As her hands clasped, a few stray flickers of light appeared on her fingertips. Unclasping her hands immediately, she raised her chin up. “I want to know everything. Tell me your story.”

“And when will I hear yours?” Darkling demanded, swiping his thumb under his lower lip.

“You seem to mistake this for negotiations”, she maintained eye contact defiantly. “Last night you told me to either go back to the Palace or to cross the fold and return to my father. It’s a choice that would easily mean I can choose to stay with you or leave and never look back.”

Placing a hand on his chest, Y/N smirked. “You can either tell me the whole truth or watch me leave.” She spoke through gritted teeth, “Don’t push me unless you’re willing to lose.”

Cupping his left cheek, she allowed a luminescent glow cast a light on his handsome features. She was angry, so angry and tired and her own power often terrified her. For once, she wanted to use it for her own benefit rather than hide it.

“What good will it do?” Aleksander’s bottom lip quivers as her light illuminates tears collecting in his dark eyes. “You’ll hate me as they all do. Even my mother saw me as a monster.”

“I’ve seen what you really are. And I never turned away…what makes you think I will now?”

She felt his jaw clench under the palm of her hand as he swallowed thickly, “You would if you could see my heart, all of it.”

Exhaling through her nose, she shook her head. Her eyes soften, her lips parting. How could she ever be indifferent to his suffering? She wished she could be colder, to leave him in tears and not look back. Hearing his words, his belief that he’s unlovable tugged at her heartstrings.

"Have you no faith in me?"

In a fight, they’re lethal, but around each other their armor is gone.

“I’ve waited for you for centuries. I dreamed about you for hundreds of years before I ever saw your face. I longed for you, missed you, died and lived for you.” Taking her face in his hands, Aleksander bends. His forehead meets hers as his nose brushes against the tip of hers.

“Ever since I laid eyes on you, my dreams have been clearer, focused on you. And in my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been’”, his eyes overflow with tears as he continues with a fractured smile. “I say, ‘I’ve been lost, but I’m here now’.”

Swallowing thickly, he felt as if his heart was breaking. “You’re the only person who has ever been able to find the real me. You saw me underneath all the darkness.” Reaching for her hand, his fingers tremble. “I was waiting for you without knowing it. I’ll make up for all the mistakes, for all the years I was supposed to be kissing you.”

“So why is it so hard for you to be honest with me?” She whispers, her hands trembling as they hold onto his shoulders.

His frown deepens, “Why weren’t you honest with me?”

“You once joked and said I’m no Inferni”, she shrugged. “You were right about that. My mother was. Father never knew about either of us. Your turn.”

“I was honest”, he sighs. Stepping back, he frowns. “I told you my name, I answered your questions about the black heretic.”

Reaching for him, she felt her heartache intensify once his tears began to flow freely across his cheeks.

“Don’t”, he recoiled from her touch. She wrapped her arms around her own waist, hurt by the rejection.

“It’s not easy for me to talk about my past. It’s as if I’m cutting myself open, letting the ugliness spill out. It’s not painless.” Swallowing thickly, Darkling’s eyes widen as he tries to hold back more tears from escaping him. “It would have been simpler to close myself off and find an unremarkable lover who’d never dare defy me, but I keep taking the risk because I want to be with you and I hope that one day you will feel the same way about me.”

“I want”, she stopped, tucking her hair behind her ears.

His voice was quieter, “What do you want? I’ll give you everything.”

“I don’t know”, she replied honestly. “I’m hurt, Aleks. You hurt me after you promised to protect me.”

Running a hand across his face, wiping his tears away. He averts his gaze. Watching her break because of him deepens the cracks in his poorly stapled, bleeding heart.

“What do you want”, she looked to him with a weight in her chest. How can loving someone hurt so badly even when the love is reciprocated?

“Never mind what I want”, he turned away. Facing her now would have chipped away at his fragile sanity, so he did what a coward would – he hid.

“You asked what I want”, she placed her hands on her hips. “I want to know what you want.”

Shaking his head, he let out a breathless chuckle. “You”, he smiled. “I’ll always want you.”

Closing the distance between them, she closed her arms around his neck. Before she could reach for him, he gripped her by her thighs and lifted her effortlessly. Wrapping her legs around his waist on instinct, she got lost in the rush of blood to her head when he pinned her against the table behind her. He paused, searching her eyes.

Whatever he was looking for, she hoped he found it.

“I don’t own you”, his eyes flicker to her lips as she sinks her front teeth into the soft flesh of her bottom lip. “I never did. Human or Grisha, you always owned me. I was just too blind to see it.”

Brushing his lips against hers, Aleksander smiled in resignation. His eyes are so different in moments like these, softer than she ever imagined eyes could be.

“Your silver tongue won’t get you far”, she struggled to keep her eyes open with his lips a whisper away. “But you’re free to try.”

She felt his burning gaze, finding it hard to concentrate on much besides breathing. He observed her, capturing her soft, naturally charming and appealing nature. She’s genuine and sweet, the reason why everyone’s head turns when she walks into the room.

How did he not realize it before?

She’s the sun.

She always was.

He always did squint angrily at her like he does with the fireball in the sky.

Y/N’s hands ran up and down his chest as her lips claimed his - passionately, roughly, determinedly. Without a word, she started to unbutton his kefta, her cold fingertips brushing his warm skin - until she lost patience and ripped the bottom part wide open, pressing her palm against his chest as he broke the kiss.

“Are you sure?” He raised his eyebrows in concern.

“I’ll be mad at you tomorrow. Kiss me”, she ordered, drawing a smile on his lips as she pulled him closer, her lips reattaching to his, her teeth sinking into his lower one.

Pushing him onto the floor, she didn’t waste time. Her bottoms were down so quickly he hardly had time to take a proper breath before she unfastened his pants too.

Heaving, Aleksander could hardly get enough of the view on top of him - her beautiful mouth opening in pleasure every time she sunk down on him, her eyes rolling back into her head, her hands placed over his chest to keep herself steady. She speeds up, prompting his loud, uninhibited moans that drew an honest smile upon her lips. He trusted up and into her as his high hit fully, taking her by surprise. She gasped, his thrust giving her an unexpected release as she clenched around him.

Gasping for breath, she laid on top of him. Y/N was very aware of his arm around her as it pulled her close, his hand on her hip, giving it a light squeeze. He leaned into her, his lips pressing a tender kiss to her temple, making her tingle with anticipation of something more - something she shouldn’t think about after their argument.

How can she trust his change of heart has nothing to do with the fact she’s the Sun Summoner? How can she ever trust him at all?

Clearing her throat, she pulled herself off Aleksander. “Put something on, someone might come in”, she told him as she secured her pants back on. She could hardly look at him, afraid he’d weaken her resolve. She couldn’t forgive him so easily, even if her heart ached for him.

“Let me in”, a voice from outside the tent made Y/N look to the entrance with a frown.

She crossed the distance swiftly, her hands ready in case she had to use her sword. She goes to place her hand on the hilt only to find her sword is not on her.

It’s a good thing that’s not her only weapon.

“Hey!” She shouts at the Grisha as they pulled someone away. “Stop!”

“General?!” Mal laughs as he manages to look back at her, fighting against the Grisha.

“Mal?” She chuckles, glad to see he’s still alive.

“Leave him alone!” She orders, feeling a presence behind her. She didn’t need to look to know it’s Aleksander. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t in the mood for anymore talking.

“You’re alive?!” Mal goes in for the hug, but his eyes catch a glimpse of Kirigan’s glare and he slowly backs away. “We need to regroup.”

“How many have we lost?” She frowns.

“You’re Grisha now”, Aleksander speaks up. “You don’t have to fight for the humans.”

Glancing over her shoulder, she scoffs at him. How could he even think she’d give up on her people now?

“That’s not something I’d like. I enjoy my humanity.”

She was the flame who lit his life on fire and while he was burning, he wanted to thank her for it and ask her to stay a while longer. Darkling nearly chuckled at the thought of calling her fire, but she is and he craves the burn.

The Darkling wanted Y/N to be the one addicted to him, in equal measure as he was addicted to her. He wanted to give her a reason to stay with him, if not for love, then for lust. He’d find a way to her heart in the meantime and knowing they’ll have a forever comforts him, but he needed to have her in every other way until then.

He knew he could make her truly happy if she’d let him and he wasn’t about to let her go.

Not without a fight.

Watching her walk away with the soldier, he clicked his tongue. Mal, whoever he is, poses a threat he needs to handle.

Swiftly.

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A/N - I struggled so much writing this chapter, hope you guys like it. I’m probably gonna pass out now, I’m exhausted. xx

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06 @whatthefluffrichard @aami98 @britriestbr @itsfangirlmendes @padme-parker @readingsssssssss @runawayolives @thehighladyofasgard @emlynblack @keithseabrook27 @dailydoseofchoices @deceivedeer @olympiacosplay @pansysgirlfriend @extrakyloren @daybleedsintonightfa11 @thoughts-and-funnies @weirdowithnobeardo @folkloresworld @remugoodgirl @yagorlemmalyn @gonehopelessgirl @fefethecoffeeaddict @naughtynecromancer @poison-of-the-ivie @strawb3rrydr3ss @supersouthy @theilliterateironman @evyiione @kimoranelson03 @wizardwheezes @woodsabby6 @liajiah @its-carlerrr

PART 14

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #general kirigan #shadown and bone

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

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heyyy can you do one where neville hears y/n telling ginny how he’s vanilla and she wants him to literally fuck the daylights out of them so he does?😜

pairing: neville longbottom x reader

warning(s): 18+, light bondage, unprotected sex, slight dom!neville

word count: 1.6k

a/n: if you didn’t see, requests are closed for now. i’ve been really busy so please be patient with me. if you have already requested something - pls don’t request it again, i will get to it! anyways, enjoy!

“So, what’s he like in bed?” Ginny asked you quietly, leaning close to you on the loveseat you were sharing the Gryffindor common room so no one else would overhear.

“Ginny!” You exclaimed incredulously, a giggle bubbling from your lips as you hit her arm.

Of course, she was referring to your boyfriend, Neville, who was currently busy tutoring some first years in Herbology not that far away from you.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N! If you can’t tell me, who can you tell?” She asked, raising a defiant eyebrow at you.

With a huff, you studied her face. She was your best friend after all.

“He’s - It’s good. He’s really good,” you started nervously, not used to speaking about the topic with anyone, really.

“But?” She pressed.

“What do you mean ‘but’?”

“I know there’s a ‘but’ coming. I know you,” she explained patiently, willing you to confide in her.

“Fine. But he’s kind of vanilla. Not that that’s a bad thing, really. But sometimes I just wish he’d really just… go for it, ya know?” You told her, a blush creeping on your face at the fact you were talking about this so openly.

“Just tell him. I’m sure he just needs a little push from you and you’ll get what you want,” she advised, and you took in her words with a small nod, unsure if you would heed her advice.

With a smile, you changed the topic, thinking that would be the last of it. Or so you thought.

~~~

It was only about an hour longer until the common room started to empty out, the younger years filing off to bed while the older students got a chance to truly relax.

With the children in bed, you watched as your boyfriend packed up his things and made his way over to you.

“Come upstairs with me?” He asked, holding out a hand. It seemed normal enough, and you took stalk of who was in the room, noticing the other four boys he lived with sitting about. They must have some type of hand signal, you were sure of it.

You climbed the stairs with him, but you failed to notice the looks he kept shooting back at you. The heated glances. The darkness in his eyes.

It wasn’t until you followed him in the room, and you were immediately pressed up against the door did you notice anything was off with him.

“Neville, wha-” you tried to question, but you were quickly cut off by his lips harshly pressing up against yours, leaving you no room for argument.

You opened your mouth for him and he was aggressive with his movements, something so unlike him. By the time he pulled away, you were absolutely breathless while his eyes only seemed to darken slightly.

“I heard you earlier, you know that?” He asked, cocking his head a bit, just enough to make you blush. “And what were your words exactly...hm… ‘vanilla’ and you really wanting me to just ‘go for it’. Is that still true?”

“I- I didn’t mean it like-,” you attempted again, but he wasn’t having it.

“Answer the damn question,” he demanded roughly, his hand coming up to grip your hip harshly.

“If that’s alright with you, then yes,” you said all in one breath, your face turning a deep shade of pink that he adored on you.

You peaked up at him through your lashes to watch his reaction. All you saw was his face splitting into a shit eating smirk. “All you had to do was ask, love,” he told you, finally pulling your body back close to his.

It felt like it only took seconds until you were naked and getting tossed onto his bed, a small yelp coming out of you. At some point, you had stripped him of his shirt and tie, the latter still in his hand as he looked down at you. He looked down at it contemplatively before looking back up at you, eyes sparkling.

“This alright?” He asked as he brought your arms up above your head and slowly looped his tie around them, securing them to the headboard. You didn’t even know when, where, how, who from, he had learned that trick, but it turned you on so much a moan slipped past your lips when you tried to break free and felt the fabric constrict around your wrists. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said smugly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before backing away.

You could do nothing else but watched as he stripped off the rest of his clothing, revealing just how hard he had gotten in the process. You let out a small whimper seeing the precum spill from his tip, wanting nothing more than to have him in your mouth.

“Use your words. What do you want?” He asked, coming closer to you as he spoke.

The demand made you flush. It was so unlike him but yet here he was, seeming to find it easy torturing you.

“Want you to fuck my face,” you told him boldly, if anything just to see how he would react.

And you barely got a reaction.

“Just for a bit, love. Still want to fuck you til you’re screaming. ‘Vanilla’, my ass,” he mocked, positioning himself so the tip of his cock was against your lips.

He still had the kindness to let you start slowly, but once he knew your jaw had adjusted around his girth, he didn’t hold back. He plunged his cock into your throat, forcing a gag out of you, but that didn’t stop him. If anything, the noise only spurred him on.

He held your face in between his hands, holding it steady, while his hips absolutely wrecked you. You’d never taken him this deep before, and it was turning you both on immensely. Finally, you got down to a rhythm of swallowing around him which forced a groan to spill from his lips as his stomach contracted.

But once you found a rhythm, of course he stopped.

“Maybe you needed that as much as I did,” he said with a small chuckle, moving to position him on the bed on top of you. “You think you can handle it if I go that hard on your little pussy?” He asked, his voice dropping to a deep rumble, his fingers trailing up your slit.

Just the feeling of some friction on your core had you fighting against your bindings, but they wouldn’t budge. All you could do was fall back against the pillows and nod furiously, wanting nothing more than for him to wreck you.

“Thought so. You’re soaked,” he said coyly, two fingers plunging into you without warning. Your back arched off the bed as you let out a cry, clenching around his fingers, your body begging for more.

He didn’t torture you much longer, only enough so he knew you were ready to take him, before slipping his fingers out of you. You watched as he lifted his soaked fingers up to your lips, leaving you with little choice but to open your mouth for him.

“Never knew my girl was such a little slut,” he commented absentmindedly, watching as you licked his fingers clean, never once breaking eye contact with you.

Fingers still deep in your mouth, pressing on your tongue, he lined his cock up and pressed inside of your walls. You moaned around his fingers, your head fighting to throw itself back but he kept you steady.

“You gonna take it like a good girl?” He asked, making you walls clench around him so tightly you thought you might cum right then, just from his words.

“Yeah, yeah, please,” you panted out once your mouth was free, staring up at him as if he were some type of god. At least in the moment he was.

He didn’t make any comment back, but started fucking you in earnest. Every thrust made your body jolt on the bed, your breasts bouncing obscenely, cries leaving your lips every time he hit your g-spot.

Not that the sex was bad before, it was always good, but this blew your mind. You didn’t even know he possessed this absolutely rough, feral man you were seeing before you. It was a whole other side of him that he had kept under lock and key, but you supposed you had done the same.

Your head was spinning by the time you felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten, his thrusts never once faltering, a feat that amazed you.

“Cum for me, just like this. Need to feel you cum like this,” he panted into your neck, his grip tightening on your hips as he brought you both to completion.

It only took a few more thrusts until you were tipping over the edge, your hands clawing at his shoulders and your knees coming up to bracket his thighs. You gave a cry of his name as your walls contracted around his cock, milking it as he worked you through your orgasm.

You felt his muscles contract under your hands as he came, twitching inside of you and filling you with cum. The both of you took a minute to catch your breaths as you came down from your highs before he was looking down at you with a smug grin on his face.

“What?” You asked, still out of breath, wanting so badly to wipe the look off of his face but you knew you couldn’t even if you tried - he had blown you away.

“So am I still vanilla?” He asked with a chuckle, falling down on the bed beside you. He turned on his side and pulled you close to his chest, letting you rest against him.

“Maybe not,” you said, a small giggle coming from your lips.

“Mm,” he voiced in agreement. “That’s not even the half of it.”

#harry potter #neville longbottom #neville longbottom smut #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom headcannon #neville longbottom drabble

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austarus · 3 years

Text

Timeless!Harrison Wells x Reader - White King, Black Queen

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 2267

You narrowed your eyes as the city continued to bustle, noise from people and cars emitted in the air. Clouds hung sparsely over Central City as the waning moon took the place of the sun high in the sky. The wind blew a light breeze through your hair. You kicked a leg back and forth gently as you sat on the edge of the STAR Labs tower wings. Your other leg was bent close to your body, an arm resting over your knee. The height didn’t scare you so much as it used to. In fact, you didn’t mind being so close to the edge anymore. If you fell, then you fell. Truth be told, your powers would save you whether you willed it to or not. Some would say it’s a curse, others not so much. Your umbrakinesis acted like a defense mechanism at those times. A sigh left your lips as you straightened up your back, cracking it. Relief echoed through your body, but your heart felt heavy. Time is ticking... You knew what was happening downstairs, Gideon had alerted you when someone entered the Time Vault. It wouldn’t be completely wrong to say that you didn’t want to face him – couldn’t get attached since he’d been here. Not again. Staying up here was your way of avoiding that problem until… Until what, though?

The hair at the back of your neck stood up, a chill ran down your spine as your shadows alerted you of a presence a distance behind you. Turning your head slightly, you sent an icy look to the one person you dreaded to see. The face of the man you had seen pass one too many times. Their looks from their final moments imprinted in your mind for this one to come back. He was the last thing you had of them.

Harrison Wells.

A small smile was on his face, his hair tousled with his clear-framed glasses perched on his nose. He knew you’d be up here. The others told him you’d been up here since his reincarnation into the world. Since he’d made contact with Team Flash to help them and explain his predicament of currently living. But really, Harrison would have known if no one had told him. He had sensed it. Seen it – the images flickered past in his brain. The other versions of himself with you up here – the foreign familiarness that he personally did not experience.

But nothing more than a dreadful reminder of what’s past.

“I’ve come to say good-bye,” the genius started in a soft voice, wanting to approach you carefully. Your glare bothered him, yet he knows it shouldn’t, for once Harrison leaves, he will be united with Tess, the love of his life. Over and over and over again.

You snorted, turning your gaze to the stars that twinkled away from the clouds. You could see the constellations of Cassiopeia, winking brightly light-years away. “Such a shame, you could have helped them with Godspeed.” A bitter laugh left your lips as you recalled Nash showing you how to recognize the constellations and where to navigate from there. Sherloque would drink his tea up here with you and converse about his cases. HR would read to you his latest ideas and novels while you gave your input. You would drag Harry out of his lab to get some fresh air. And Eobard… he was the one who showed you this view, before Barry had woken up, before the Particle Accelerator had gone online.

“Team Flash is more than capable of handling threats on their own.”

“I take it you think that having a Wells must be a handicap, hm?”

“I never said that.”

“Hmph.”

“I couldn’t leave without telling you good-bye.” You pressed your lips thinly and Harrison continued, pocketing his hands in his dark coat. “It didn’t feel right to go without saying that.” The night was getting colder, yet you remained out here in a thin jacket. Dare he say, he worried a bit? You turned to fully look at him from your seated position. “I… won’t deny the sentiment I feel towards you. The memories of the past Wells. Their thoughts – well, previous thoughts – and feelings are still here.” Harrison had gestured to his head then placed a hand on his heart. Bile rose at the back of your throat as the smiling images of the boys hit your mind. You bit your lip hard as he spoke, “Each one of them felt strongly for you, but I’m not them. They’d want you to move on. To live-”

“No!” Your patience snapped, standing up rapidly with expert footing. Shadows went rampant in the night, wind howling in his ears. “You don’t get to say that!” Darkness immediately consumed the atmosphere and air around you both. Unbridled anger licked up in your heart and soul as you took heavy steps towards him. Harrison couldn’t see, but he could feel the moving darkness as he stood his ground. “You have no right to act all high and mighty towards me.” A hiss left his lips as a dark particle lashed at his arm, burning through his coat and marring his skin just as he heard your anger burn in your next words. “You don’t understand the strings that fate has chained me with! Nor will you ever understand my burden.”

***Flashback***

“What is it that you want?” You glared at the entity. The Monitor had appeared in your kitchen as you were pouring yourself some alcohol to enjoy your quiet night. You had taken some time away from all the heroes and villains running around.

“I came because I require your assistance for the Crisis.”

“Pass, I’m not in the mood to play the hero.”

“The point is not to be a hero or the villain, but to honor fate’s will.”

“Well fate can go hump a stump for all I care,” you sipped on your choice of alcohol, you turned away from the eternal entity only to find him in front of you right as you had exited your kitchen. A deep frown crossed your features. This is such a drag.

“Fate has bound your life to Harrison Wells the moment you first met him years ago.”

“False, that was Eobard masquerading as Wells. So, technically no.”

“That technicality may be so, but fate saw the speedster as your gateway to the rest of them. Without Thawne you would not have been so tied to Harrison Wells’ existence.” Rolling your eyes, you took another sip, already knowing you’d need a couple of glasses to forget about this interaction. “Your life is bound to his. To them.” The Monitor had you right where he wanted you, pushing images into your mind to allow you to see reason. “You were a lover.” You flinched as the image of Eobard appeared in your mind. “A partner.” Harry. “A friend.” HR. “And a confidante.” Sherloque. “Now this one needs you as well, he is in danger of himself with the Anti-monitor. My opposite entity.” You knew he was referring to Nash, the multiverse explorer with the haughty attitude and snarky comments.

“…”

“You are the anomaly that exists in the multiverse, there is no other in your position.” The entity saw the hesitation flicker in your being. “The time has come for you to be his protector.”

***Time Skip***

Nash panted, on the ground of this desolate land on his hands and knees. His mouth felt dry, tasting iron in his mouth from the blood on his split lip. How much longer can he endure this? The Anti-monitor continued to laugh at him, to mock him, for his weakness. Pariah gripped hard at the dirty snow, blood and mud defiled the pure whiteness. He couldn’t get back up. His body ached. No matter how hard Nash tried to push back, the Anti-monitor was too strong for him even with these temporary powers.

“Humans are such fickle beings,” the anti-entity spoke in a grand manner, “Soon the multiverse will be mine and there shall be no flaws. No humans to corrupt my domain.” The eternal being gathered his divine power into the palm of his hand and fired anti-matter at his appointed Pariah. The one to bear witness of the end of the multiverse. His curse.

Nash shut his eyes; this was the end. This was his end. A breath left him, what he expected to be his final breath. But the final blow never came. Ringing greeted Nash’s ears as he opened his eyes. Standing in front of him, shielding his body was you and your dark powers. For whatever reason it withstood the anti-matter as particles clashed against one another. You stood defiantly and gracefully in your fighting positions, conjuring your dark spectacles from every shaded corner.

“Don’t you dare touch him, you fucking monster.” You growled, your hands working magnificently to bind the Anti-monitor down. Once bound your umbra became spears and swords that pierced through the entity. While it could not kill the Anti-monitor, it slowed him down – meaning it would slow down his assault on Nash. You needed to get him to safety, needed him to have enough strength to teleport you two away from this dimension. And that’s exactly what you convinced him to do when you grabbed him, hugging his injured body to yourself as he fought to stay conscious.

***End Flashback***

“You don’t understand what loss truly is! You don’t get how hard it is to move on from this.” Just as you had moved, so had Harrison. A dagger of darkness at his throat, clenching the front of his cloak as he held a dagger of light to your own throat. Harrison gritted his teeth as he used his powers to light up the area in his green light. “This pain, the misery of losing over and over and over again. To bear the burden of fate’s strings only to watch them all fall.” He flinched at how the veins around your eyes had darkened to a charcoal color. His throat dried as fear hit him. Harry’s memory flashed into his mind – the memory of you in this state, accidentally killing a meta in self-defense. “You’re just a selfish man, running away from what’s in front of him.” Harrison’s light battled against your darkness to keep the physical manifestations of umbra away from harming his body. “I despise people like that.”

“I’m only doing what’s best for me.”

“By what, Harrison? Running to the past? What’s in the past is best left in the past, those who hold on to the past don’t appreciate the present.”

“Such hypocritical words coming from someone who sulks around up here for what once was.”

“You don’t fucking know anything about me. All you have are some second-hand memories, but you don’t truly know me and what I’ve been through. You’re just like Barry.”

“And you’re any different?”

“At least I know the difference between reality and a desperate dream.”

“…” He knew Tess is doomed to die for time to flow, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t cherish every second with her until it was time. Maybe he was a desperate man chasing after a desperate dream, but he would until the bitter end. For Tess.

“A Time Loop is just a miserable notion for you to see Tess when her destiny is already a fixed time point. Just like Barry’s mother. Their deaths are absolute. Even with your Timeless powers you can’t interfere with what’s set in place.”

“That may be so, but I’ve fulfilled my part here – at least I have someone to return home to, even if they are doomed to die. I could be by her side over and over again.”

Harrison’s words pierced your heart, you pushed the tears back. The ache in your heart throbbed at a greater rate. At least… he had the power to return to his someone… The genius saw the haunting dejection in your eyes, the way your shoulders quivered as you tried to keep yourself together. He regretted the words that left his mouth…

“Do as you please,” you whispered, loosening your grip on his jacket to let him go. The darkness dissipated as you walked back to your perch with pocketed hands. “I’m done begging…” You mumbled to yourself so quietly that he didn’t catch your last statement. A tear left your eyes as you stood tall where you once sat.

“Good-bye,” Harrison murmured to the wind drifting in your direction before turning and leaving. A part of him felt torn by the things he had spat at you. What’s done is done. I doubt I’ll be back here any time soon. Clenching and unclenching his hand, Harrison shut his eyes and summoned his powers to pass through time. Tess, I’m coming home.

“Good-bye, Harrison.” Another tear fell, this time you wiped it as the night continued. He was gone. They were gone. You were alone, once again spectacularly alone and cold.

The pieces are all in place. The time has come…

Time still ticked as seconds went bye. A voice whispered at the back of your mind; the presence residing there since his exorcism. The one that kept you company through all this.

“It’s time, my queen.”

Checkmate

#harrison wells x reader #og harrison wells #timeless wells #harrison wells fanfiction #harrison wells #The Flash #the flash cw #the cw #team flash #the flash fanfiction #nash wells #the monitor #Sherloque Wells #harry wells #hr wells

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

Apples & Lattes

A/N: Not requested or anything, but I have been in my fall and Marcus feels, so here we are. Its just a lot of sweet fluff, but I hope you all enjoy 💕🥰

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 7.6k

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

“When are you going to finally settle down and get married?” you nearly choked on your wine as your mother calmly asked you the question you’d pointedly hoped wouldn’t happen. But here it was. Again. Just like so many other times.

Once you’d calmed down and cleared the sweet, red wine from your throat, you set your glass down and plastered the kindest smile you could muster up on your face. The air in the room was so thick with tension it was physically palpable, “I’m not.. I’m not even seeing anyone, Mom. I don’t think that’s a feasible question at this point.”

“But honey,” there was that sticky sweet and concerned tone again, “you’re getting older and still haven’t married. Aren’t you worried that you’ll end up alone? Why haven’t you found anyone yet?”

“Gee, thanks for the concern,” you sighed as you pushed your plate away, suddenly losing your appetite. You knew you shouldn’t have to come to Sunday Dinner at your parents’ house. Everyone else in the room was deathly silent - no was sure what to say or do, “but um, no, it’s never occurred to me. I don’t think about it, really.”

Oh, but you did. You just weren’t about to admit that to her just yet.

“Look at all your friends, and colleagues,” she wasn’t about the let issue go. Fantastic, you wanted to groan and slam your head onto the table then and there, “they’re all married, getting married, or starting their own families.”

“And that’s great for them,” you cut her off, “I’m just not there, and honestly, I don’t know if I ever will be. And that’s just fine by me. I don’t have to be like everyone else.”

“I just want you to be happy-”

“And I am,” you insisted. And you were - truly. But there was a part of you that did long for more... “really. I’m also busy with work - in case you’ve forgotten I run my own business. Besides, I just haven’t met anyone that’s really caught my eye.”

You’d gone on dates here and there, but no ever really seemed to be...the one. The one you’d be willing risk it all for and with. Sure, some were nice, really nice, and others were good for a night in bed, but you’d never deemed anyone worthy of more. Your time was precious, and you weren’t about to waste it on anyone just because, just so you could have a half hearted relationship that ultimately left you unfulfilled.

“Maybe you should be...less picky,” she suggested and you almost snorted laughter.

"Listen," you stood up abruptly, your chair scraping lucky against the wooden floor, "this has been great and all, but I'm going to go. I didn't come here to be berated and belittled because of choices I've made. If I wanted that, I'd serve a customer a wrong order. And no, mom, I'm not going to be less picky or lower my standards just to find someone and please you."

"What if you ever find someone? You're so arrogant and stubborn sometimes-"

"Then so be it," you tossed the napkin onto the table and gave everyone a mock bow before turning to leave, "and then I'll be a lonely, but happy, old spinster!"

Before anyone of them could respond with so much as a sound, you stormed out of the room and out of the house, ready to be far, far away from them.

»»————-　♡　————-«

"Come on," you whispered under your breath as you reached for the last few apples on the branch. They were just out of your reach, and you were stretching precariously across the way trying to get them. The rickety old ladder under you wobbled slightly, but ignored its protests, reaching just a little more. These were the most perfect apples you had seen in some time and you needed them. Had to have them even.

Which was exactly why you were risking life and limb for them.

Finally, one of them came into contact with your gloved and you had made a small sound of triumph. But before you grab it and put in the bucket hanging from another of the branches, the ancient ladder decided it had had enough. And it started to tip over, causing you to do the same.

Everything happened so fast you almost didn't have to react, instead you braced yourself for the hard impact with the cold ground.

But it never came.

Instead you felt yourself securely enveloped in a pair of strong arms. When everything felt safe again, you slowly opened your eyes and peeked around to study your surroundings. Instead of the hard, dirty ground, you meet a pair of warm, soft chocolate eyes.

"Are you okay?" If his eyes were sweet and honeyed, then the voice that met your ears was even more so. You tried to find your own and tell him that yes, despite almost breaking your neck for some apples, you were just fine. But nothing came out - instead you stared at him, feeling a flush of warmth wash over you. He seemed concerned for a moment when you didn't respond but eventually you nodded and he gently set you back down, "there you are."

"I...ugh...erm...thank you," your voice finally seemed to return to as you bit your lip, suddenly feeling more shy than ever. Where was this suddenly coming from? Was it because you had quite literally fallen into the arms of one of the most handsome men you had ever seen? Possibly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked with a warm chuckle. Slowly, ever so gently, he put his hand under your chin and tilted your face up to make sure there was no visible damage. His touch was like pure fire, sending a warmth and sparks throughout your veins.

"Yes," you said softly, giving him an affirmative nod, "just umm...apparently not very careful. Totally my own fault."

"That old thing wasn't helping," he gave the now ruined ladder a dismissal look, "it was ready to collapse at any moment."

"It didn't help that I was leaning over and trying to get those apples," you pointed at the few that remained, sighing heavily. You'd really wanted them, but now it looked like you'd have to leave them behind. Along with the rest that you had picked and left hanging in the bucket. Maybe you'd find some other good ones on another tree...

"Those?" he asked, pointing at the branch as you nodded sadly. A megawatt grin crossed his features as he walked over to the base of the tree, "the bucket - it's yours too?"

"Yes...I guess I should go back and get another ladder...hopefully they have some more," you were definitely more upset about your apples than you should have been. But hey, you'd been hunting for and picking apples for hours.

"No need," he said quickly. You were about to ask him what he meant but he quickly answered your silent question by climbing the tree and scaling the branch, effortlessly grabbing your bucket. But he didn't stop there - oh no. He siddled carefully along the branch and picked the remainder of your precious apples, setting them in the bucket along with the others.

Your mouth was open as you watched him in wonder, amazed by how effortless he made everything seem. Before you knew it, he was jumping down landing on his feet gracefully, a little smile on his face as you just watched him in awe.

"I believe these are yours," he said as he held out the bucket, filled to the brim with your treasures, "what's so special about these particular apples?"

"These are the perfect blend of tart and sweet," you said softly as you slowly took them from him, "for baking and making all sorts of pastries. They're hard to find around here and this orchard only has a few of the specific trees. So...I wanted to make sure I got them."

"And now you have them," he beamed at you as you struggled not to completely melt under his soft gaze, "I hope they serve you well. Do you do a lot of baking?”

"I-"

"Pike!" someone shouted as the man's face visibly contorted into a look of annoyance. You tried to hold back your giggles as he dramatically rolled his eyes, "we have to go!"

"I'll be right there!" he let out a long sigh before meeting your eyes again and giving you an almost apologetic look, to which you answered with a soft smile, "well, I guess this is goodbye."

"Thank you," you held out your hand for him to shake. He wasted no time in shaking it in his much larger one, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, "I appreciate you saving both my neck, literally and metaphorically, and getting my apples for me."

"Don't mention it," he said softly, "it was a pleasure to meet you. I didn't get your name and I -"

"Pike! Now!"

"Better get going," you jerked your head in the direction of the man that was shouting for him. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, you were reluctant to see him go, "thank you again."

He opened his mouth to say something else but instead his name was shouted yet again. Hanging his head in annoyance, he exhaled sharply through his nose, "any time..."

Not wanting him to get in any trouble, you took your apples and gave him one last wave before walking away. Your feet had never felt so heavy and every part of you was humming to turn around and go back to him. To at least get his name, first name anyways as you assumed Pike must have been his surname. But you didn't. Why bother? You'd never see him again and it wouldn't do well to dwell on him or what had happened. It was just an accident and he was a nice man that helped you. A one and done deal; it wasn't like you'd just met Prince Charming.

Then why did you want to turn around and run after him?

Marcus watched as you trekked away, wondering if there was actually a bounce in your step or if he was imagining it. He sighed deeply at what he already deemed the most annoying thing to happen in a long time. As he watched you, he realized that your scarf had fallen and been left on the ground. Marcus quickly picked it up, ready to rush after you and return it. But you were already gone. Clutching onto the soft, still slightly warm fabric, he tucked it into his pocket. One way or another he would find it and return it to you. He was an FBI agent for goodness sake, it should be an easy task.

"Pike!" Marcus cursed under his breath as he turned around to leave. He would find you again, he vowed, no matter what.

»»————-　♡　————-«

By the way the man called Pike had been living in your mind rent free for what seemed to be days, you'd think you'd have done a lot more than exchange a few words with him.

But alas.

You'd had your one interaction with him and the rest had been daydream fantasies. You'd even let your mind wander so far as to wonder what it would be like to kiss those plump pouty lips that were burned into your mind. You wondered if he was always so kind and thoughtful or if it had been a matter of convenient timing.

Or something...it was a random encounter and you were just glad he had been there to catch you.

As you another pie down to cool, you softly heard your name being called from the doorway. It was Sabrina, one of your several loyal employees, poking her head in and offering you a smile.

"What's up?" you asked as you wiped your hands on the rag over your shoulder before tossing it onto the counter.

"There's someone here to see you," there was something about the little grin on her face that had you intrigued. You tilted your head curiously, "just..come on."

"I'm busy with-"

"Come on," she innocently with wide eyes as you laughed lightly, amused by her persistence. You didn’t normally have people come and directly ask for you...not unless it was an off moment and someone was mad about something trivial, “the apple pies can wait.”

“I almost died for these apples,” you joked, stripping off your apron and laying it down on the counter, “this better be worth it.”

“Oh, I think it will be,” she promised as she held the door open for you and let you go in front of her. As you walked up to the counter, you prepared to put on your best customer service voice, hoping whatever little problem it was could be solved with a smile and a slice of pie.

As the person came into view, your mouth dropped open as he quickly locked eyes with you. His own mouth quickly turned into a grin, his warm, soft eyes almost twinkling.

“Hi,” you barely managed to choke out as you walked over to him. You hadn’t expected to see him again. Ever. But here he was, in your own little coffee shop out of all the places in the world. This had to be some sort of dream, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Hi,” he replied, producing his hand from behind his back, holding out your scarf to you. In all honesty, you’d completely forgotten about it, having made peace with the face that you’d probably lost it somewhere. But this was most definitely a welcome surprise. Your favorite scarf back - and hand delivered by a handsome man? This was definitely too good to be true, “you dropped this at the orchard last weekend. I wanted to make sure you had it back.”

“Thank you so much,” you gently took it from him, clutching the soft fabric tightly to your chest.

"You found me..." you said softly, amazed by his sleuthing skills. You hadn't even gotten the chance to give him your name and he had still found you. But then again...surely a coincidence..."how did you manage that? I didn't even get a chance to give you my name..."

"Well, it's kind of a part of the job," he said as you raised an eyebrow at him. His mouth formed a small o as his cheeks took on a pink tinge, "I realize that doesn't quite sound right. I swear I'm not some sort of stalker."

"That sounds like exactly what a stalker would say," you laughed as he hung his head in mock defeat, "even if you are, it was very kind of you to return my scarf."

"FBI," he admitted softly under his breath as you mulled it over. It would explain the suit, which you thought fit him perfectly, but then you caught a quick peek of a badge under the jacket. You were sure it said FBI on it. Maybe he was legit, "I work for the FBI."

"How perfectly mysterious," you teased with a small wink, "all this trouble for a scarf? I'm just curious...how did you put it all together?"

"Itwasformorethanthescarf," he mumbled so quickly you weren't able to quickly catch everything. Before you could ask him for clarification, however, he continued, "it wasn't hard really."

"Oh?" you grinned, "do tell. If you've got the time, of course..."

"I do actually-"

"Wait!" you almost jumped in excitement as a wicked little idea crossed your mind, "do you like apple pie?"

"Its my favorite," he admitted shyly.

"Great," you beamed at him, "I have fresh apple pie, with the apples from last weekend! You have to try it. How do you take your coffee?"

“A little bit of cream and a healthy amount of sugar,” you couldn’t help but grin at the simple order, thinking it suited him perfectly. You motioned for him to sit at a quiet little table in the corner as you got to work. You could feel his kind eyes on you the entire time as you prepared your coffees, hoping you made it to his liking.

Sabrina must have been lurking nearby and listening as she popped out with two plates of warm, fresh pie. Flashing you an innocent smile, she flounced over to Marcus, and set the pie down with an overly cheery smile.

“He’s cute,” she whispered as she pushed past you, “you’ve finally found a keeper it appears.”

“I don’t...no,” you insisted as you grabbed a mug in each hand, “he’s not...I don’t know him.”

“Oh, but you will,” she winked before waving at a newly arrived customer and going to attend to them.

You bit your lip, letting out a long sigh before turning around to go back to him. You weren’t going to get lost in your little daydream fantasies...not yet at least.

“Here you are,” you set the coffee in front of him as you took the seat across from him, “I hope it’s okay.”

“Perfect,” he promised as he took a long sip. Grabbing a fork, he looked at the pie as you encouraged him to take a bite. He took a big forkful, giving it a thorough look over before putting it into his mouth. Almost fighting back a moan at how sinfully delicious the pie was, all he could do was nod before taking another heaping bit. You had been right, these apples made for some delicious, maybe the most delicious pie he had ever eaten, “holy shit.”

“Good, right?” your voice was singsong sweet as you took a bite from your own plate. His eyes were wide as all he could do was devour the remainder of his plate, “I’m telling you, it’s the apples, they make all the difference.”

“I can see why you were willing to break your neck for them,” he agreed. You’d converted another one, “I’m glad you didn’t though…”

“Me too,” you stared at your plate for a moment, “otherwise no one else would be able to make this delicious pie. Now tell me, mysterious FBI Agent, how did you find me?”

“It was simple,” he admitted, “all I did was look up the apples, and low and behold, an article about the woman that loves to use them for her renowned pies popped up. It just so happens that it was the same woman that fell into my arms when foraging for said apples. And she owns a café in the city where I work. I took it as a sign.”

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you listened to him. You should have realized it would really be simple for anyone to find you, but the fact that it was him just sent a spark through your veins. He had chosen to go through all of this trouble for you, “ahh, well, I should have realized it would be easy to find me. Either way, thank you for going through all of this trouble to bring back my scarf.”

“Any time,” he promised like it had been no big deal in the slightest. To him it wasn’t, not for you anyway. That much he already decided. He said your name softly and you wanted to melt then and there. That voice. That honeyed, sofy baritone already did a number on you, “I was wondering-”

“Hold on,” you licked some of the pie filing off of your fork as you waggled it at him, “you know my name now, but I still don’t know yours. Although if I remember correctly, that annoying man that called you away kept calling you Pike.”

“Marcus Pike,” he confirmed, holding his hand across the table for you to shake. You eagerly took it, trying not to marvel at how large and soft his was, “or Agent Pike. But you can call me Marcus.”

“Marcus,” you repeated his name, deciding you liked how it sounded, especially coming from him, “I like it. It suits you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agreed quietly, “umm, I’m sorry, I interrupted you earlier, what were you going to ask?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to-”

“Boss!” Sabrina had the most impeccable timing as she poked her head back out from the kitchen, “I need your help. I’m having trouble with the oven…”

“Can it wait a few moments? I’m sure it’s-”

“Fire,” she said meekly, “small fire, but fire…”

“Shit,” you hissed under your breath as you jumped to your feet, instructing her to get the fire extinguisher, “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go. It was nice to see you, Marcus. Thank you...for everything. I really appreciate it. You can just leave your plate and mug, I’ll grab them later.”

“No problem,” he said as he watched you all but run away, sighing lightly to himself. More perfect timing. He drummed his fingers along the table before stacking the plates and grabbing your mugs and taking them to the spot you had designated for dirty dishes, despite what you had told him. Before he walked out, he got a quick burst of genius as he quickly grabbed a napkin and the pen from his suit pocket, scribbling down his phone number. He leaned over the counter and tucked it near the register, hoping you would see it and know it was from him.

He hoped you would keep it and get back to him.

He hoped, he hoped, he hoped.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Several weeks had passed since you had fallen for Marcus. Literally of course. The jury was still out on the metaphorical part. Okay...that was probably true too. He was living rent free in your mind, occupying many of your thoughts throughout the day.

You’d found his number and after finally convincing yourself to text him, you found yourself exchanging texts with him throughout the day. It was on and off of course, with you at the cafe and him at the FBI, but was nice. It always brought a smile to your face to see a text from him.

It had even led to him asking to take you out on a date, a proper date.

You said yes, naturally.

But that was almost three weeks ago, and the date had yet to happen.

The first time you got ready to go out with Marcus, he canceled at the last moment. You were already all dressed and ready, makeup and hair done when you'd gotten the hectic call. It was work, naturally, and you couldn't blame the FBI agent. He sounded genuinely upset to cancel, but promised he'd make it up to you soon. At least you'd gotten some decent selfies out of night, even if you ended up eating Chinese takeout and watching Netflix.

The second time, you had to cancel on Marcus. It was the morning of your redo date night, and you had found at the last moment that a well known food journalist wanted to interview you. You were reluctant to go and cancel again, but Marcus had been more than encouraging. So you went and Marcus ordered a pizza and binge watched some cooking shows on TV.

The third time it was a mutual cancelation. Marcus' parents came to surprise with a visit and you ended up with a stomach bug. Both of you were reluctant to cancel, and swore the next time it would work out.

It had to, right? Surely things would happen this time.

But no.

The fourth time around, you were both thoroughly determined to make things work. It was going to work out this time. It had to.

But once again, fate had different plans.

You and Marcus had made all of your plans, and you'd decided to leave work early to go home and get ready for your date, and were ready to finally spend time with him. But it turns out the restaurant you'd selected was booked for the evening and your reservation had been given away. Marcus had a last minute briefing for a big case he was working. Once again, the universe had decided it was not meant to be.

Maybe...maybe it wasn't meant to be at all.

"Why do you look so upset?" Sabrina asked as the two of you set up some Christmas decorations around the shop, "you look like you're going to burst into tears any second."

"I'm just..." you were cut off by the sound of the bell, signaling a new customer. You quickly told her you would handle it as you walked up the counter. But your dismay quickly turned into hope and butterflies when you saw that it was none other than Marcus, "hi."

"Hi," you'd already forgotten just how much you adored that soft, gentle smile.

"What...are you doing here?"

"Well, my meeting ended early," he explained, "and I figured that even though our reservations were canceled, we could still have our date...finally."

"Really?" you tried to contain the pure delight that was flowing through veins as he slowly nodded, "I'd love to but-"

"We can handle things from here, boss!"

"I'd love to," you beamed at him, "I'm just...little underdressed."

"I know its nothing fancy," he started as you pulled off your apron and tossed behind the counter, "but I was thinking you could come over to mine? I don't want to brag but I'm a pretty good cook, and I've got some new wine I've been meaning to try. I hope this isn't too forward, I just thought a quiet evening in would be nice."

"I'd love to," you agreed eagerly. Sure, you'd only talked to him mostly through text or on the phone at this point, but you already liked him a lot - trusted him, "it will be nice to finally have our date. I was starting to feel like the universe might be against us."

"Everything happens as it should and when it should," he promised as you grabbed your purse, "and by the way, I think you look beautiful."

You didn't even bother to try and hide your smile at that point.

As it turned out, Marcus was an excellent cook, and the wine was indeed delicious.

You spent the night at his, despite your original intentions, but one thing led to another and soon enough you were in his bed, unsure where you ended and he began.

It was the first of my many such nights.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Falling in love with Marcus was easy. You didn't even have to think about it. It started out as a slow, gradual thing which soon blossomed into something you had never experienced before. At first it was scary, but like with everything else, Marcus made it wonderful.

At first it was things like good morning and good night texts. Then it was him randomly popping in to see you during his lunch breaks or you stopping into his office when you had some downtime.

Then it was the random evenings spent together - he stopped by your apartment with your favorite take out if he knew you'd had a rough day. You'd let yourself into his if you knew he was working late and make dinner and dessert.

It was the late nights spent watching silly movies or having a catch up on your favorite shows. It was lazy Sunday mornings spent in the kitchen the two of you cooking and dancing to slow music that was on in the background. It was Saturdays spent exploring new places and cities, or spending the day in bed, tangled up in each other.

It was the way he seemed to say I love you in a million different ways, without even saying the words. But he spoke them all the time as well, and you never once doubted their truthfulness.

»»————-　♡　————-«

Soon the fall turned to winter which turned to spring. In the spring was when he asked you a huge question.

"Move in with me?" it was so soft, so gentle, and completely out of the blue. You were laying in bed on a Sunday morning, the sun streaming in through the large, open window, along with the cool, crisp air. Marcus had his coffee on the nightstand as he read the morning paper and you were laying on his chest, watching the morning news. It was the perfect slow, lazy morning.

"What?" you asked as you turned your face to look up at him, a confused expression on your face. Surely you hadn't heard him correctly...

"I asked if you'd move in with me," he repeated casually, flipping to the next page of the paper. He was putting on a cool façade, but the corners of his mouth were tugging into a nervous little smile.

"Do you mean it?" you asked softly, pressing a kiss to the soft, golden skin of his bare chest. He peeked over the paper and slowly nodded before you snatched it gently out of his hands and tossed it to the side, "really?"

"Of course," he grinned, "we already send most nights together, and half of your stuff is already here...I just think it makes sense. But if you'd rather not, or wait, I understand too."

"No," you said firmly, swinging your legs over him so you were straddling his waist. You leaned down and kissed him softly, his lips melding against your own, "I want to, Marcus. Really."

"Not too soon?" he asked as he gently stroked your cheek.

"Perfect timing," you promised, "its like you always say, everything happens as it should and when it should."

And so within the month you were moved into his apartment, now yours as well.

It was easy to fall into a daily routine with him. And getting to fall asleep and wake up next to your lover every day? It always seemed too good to be true.

»»————-　♡　————-«

The apartment that became your home soon turned into a small, quaint house that the two of you got together. Although the apartment had become yours just as much as his, this was the next chapter of your lives, which you were fully ready to embrace.

It had been two falls ago that you'd met Marcus, and while it had been your favorite season before, it most definitely was now.

You didn't know what you did to deserve Marcus, but you were so glad you did. Waiting for him had been entirely worth it.

"Catch up babe," you called to Marcus as he trailed behind you, a metal ladder tucked under his arm. Ever since your encounter with the rickety wooden ladder that you had falling into his arms and life, he'd insisted on a sturdy metal one.

"I'm coming," he promised, a smile on his face, his cheeks tinged pink from the cool breeze, "besides, I'm enjoying the view!"

"Cheeky," you slowed and waited for him to catch up, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he did so, "I love it. I love you."

"I love you too," he said softly as he leaned the ladder against the base of your favorite tree. The very tree you'd fallen from during your first meeting, "let me go and check the apples. They look promising this year."

"They'll make the best pies ever," you agreed as he slowly climbed up and took the buckets from you.

"May this year you'll teach me the secret recipe," he said as he disappeared into some of the leaves.

"Nope," you teased gently, "it's Nana's secret. Only family can know it."

"We're practically family," he laughed as he poked his head down to peer at you.

"That may be so, my love," you agreed, "but you have to make an honest woman out of me first. Nana's rules."

"Oh, I will," he promised as your cheeks flushed with warmth. You had meant it mostly as a joke, but there was something about the tone in his voice that suggested he wasn't, "I'm going to marry you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," he insisted as he gently climbed down the ladder, landing on his feet with a small plop, "I am going to marry the hell out of you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Agent Pike," you teased as you traded places with him and got ready to climb the ladder to start picking your prized apples. He stopped you for a moment, his hand on your neck as he pulled you in for a passionate, but gentle kiss. It was the kind that still managed to steal the breath from your lungs and thoughts from your mind, even after two years. You hoped it always would. You were sure it always would.

"I would never do such a thing, sweetheart," he whispered against your lips, "now go and pick your apples. I'll be here to catch you if you fall. Always."

"My hero," you grinned before starting your ascent, already keeping an eye open for the best apples of all.

As you searched, you noticed that Marcus seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. You decided not to worry about it, attributing it to tiredness and a late night...but if it continued on, you'd ask soon.

"Anything good?"

"Hmmm..." your brows were furrowed in concentration as you reached for a few partially obscured apples. But instead of the soft roundness you were used to, felt something square and almost velvety. A small sound of triumph escaped your lips as you grabbed it...but then you slowly lost your balance and felt yourself slipping from the ladder.

"Sweetheart!" just like he had before, Marcus gently caught you in his arms. You looked at him with a sheepish grin as you wrapped your arms around his neck, "are you okay?"

"Right as rain," you beamed, "I guess some things never change, huh?"

"I'll take a lifetime of catching you," he said softly, "what happened?"

"I felt something," you said triumphantly as you displayed the little square box. As you studied it, you quickly realized it was...a jewelry box, "what is...how did this..."

"Open it," Marcus insisted as he slowly set you back onto the ground. You looked at him with wide eyes as he nodded. You popped the box open slowly, your breath taken away almost instantly.

Nestled safely into a soft, black velvet cushion was a beautiful diamond ring. It was simple, almost understated but elegant, nothing too large and garish. It was your favorite cut and color, both of which you'd only mentioned to Marcus in passing. You never thought he'd remember...or were you expecting this.

"Marcus," you were struggling to hold back your tears as you looked between him and the ring, "this is...are you..."

"Sweetheart," he delicately took the box from your hands, and pulled the ring out as he got down on one knee. This was happening. This was actually happening. He let out a shaky breath as he reached for your hand, "I love you more than words can describe. You have made me so, so happy. The past two years with you have been the best, and I hope we have so many more of them. I'm glad you fell into my arms then and today. I will always be there to make sure you're safe. So, in order to learn your Nana's secret recipe and to make you an honest woman and me the happiest man, will you marry me?"

"Yes," it came out without hesitation, without a second thought or single reservation, "yes, I'll marry you. I love you so much, Marcus."

"Really?" he had been so sure that you wouldn't say no, but the fact that you had said yes relieved all of the remaining fears he had. You nodded fervently as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He quickly slipped the ring onto your finger before reaching up and wiping the tears away.

"Of course," you promised as you grabbed his face and kissed him, "I love you so much, Marcus. Everything - you are everything."

"I think that's you, sweetheart," he wrapped his arms around and held you tightly against him, "thank you."

"For what?" you laughed lightly, "you're always saving me!"

"You've helped me in so many ways," he promised, "I never thought...I never tonight I could love like this again. More than I ever have..."

"Me too," you promised, "I felt like I was gonna have to wait forever...waiting for you. That's what it really was. It was worth it. You were worth it. It's like you always say, everything happens how it's supposed to, when its supposed to."

"Exactly," he whispered softly, "I am so in love with you."

"And I you," you kissed him again, lingering against his lips as you took in all of him, "now - help me pick these apples or we won't be able to bake pies."

"We?"

"I guess you can know the recipe now," you grinned, "we're family. We've been family already."

"But not married yet," he said as he held the ladder for you.

"Close enough," you grinned, "I love you, Marcus."

"I love you, sweetheart."

»»————-　♡　————-«

“So when are you going to give us grandchildren?” as soon as the words hit you, you almost dropped the fork that was halfway to your mouth. Your face instantly warmed up as you turned to Marcus, ready to profusely apologize to him for your mother’s ever so straightforward nature. There was a tinge of pink in his cheeks as he gave you a little smile, “you’ll have such beautiful babies!”

“Mom,” you turned to her with wide eyes as Marcus put his hand on your thigh, tracing gentle, soothing circles onto the material of jeans, “we’ve only been married a few months. There’s no rush and it’s none of your business when and if we do.”

“I’m just saying, honey-”

“Mom,” you groaned and silently pleaded for her to stop. For once in her life she appeared to understand what you were saying, “please.”

“You’re right,” she calmed herself down as she grabbed a glass of wine and quickly finished it, “it’s entirely your decision, when and if. Either way...I’m happy for you, both of you. You truly deserve it. I know it took a long time, but I’m so glad you found your sweet Marcus.”

“Me too,” you agreed, calming down ever so slightly, “he was worth the wait.”

“I had you falling for me from the start,” he teased as he looked at you with the sweetest eyes, and the silliest of grins.

“You’re the worst,” you proclaimed, unable to contain your own laughter, “but I’m glad for that rickety ladder, and the almost lost scarf. Look at what it got me - the best part of my life.”

“I love you,” he whispered as everyone around the table awed at the two of you.

“I love you too,” you replied softly as you turned back to your plate, “now let’s get onto something else. Who all is going to come and pick apples with me for the shop this weekend?”

»»————-　♡　————-«

��I’m sorry about all that,” you sighed, shaking your head at your mother’s antics as you walked hand in hand with Marcus to your favorite little dessert spot. It was late, but not too late, so you’d both decided that a little sweet treat was necessary. And you had something else on your mind that you wanted to tell him as well, and figured it was best to do so when it was just the two of you, “she’s a little much...a lot much.”

“Don’t worry,” he gave your hand a spot squeeze, “you know my mother is just as bad.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t do it in front of half the family and basically ask when we’re going to have planned sex!”

“So we shouldn’t tell her we have sex all the time?” he gently nudged your side as a smile worked its way back onto your face. That was definitely not a lie...like everything between the two of you, the sex was good, very good, and plentiful.

“I’d rather not,” you chuckled, suddenly feeling nervous about sharing your news with him. Naturally the two of you had discussed the possibility of children, and it was something that the two of you both wanted, but were not in a hurry necessarily to get into. You weren’t actively trying to get pregnant, but you weren’t not trying to get pregnant. It would happen when it happened, the two of you had decided, and even the doctor had told you that it would sometimes take a while for it to happen, especially after coming off of birth control.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked after a few moments of silence. You’d been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you’d noticed that he’d been talking this whole, until there was nothing but silence on your end, “you’re thinking much too loudly.”

“I was just…” you tugged on his hand and he stopped, giving you a concerned expression. It wasn’t like you to just fall into silence and shyness. Marcus gave you that soft smile you were a sucker for before reaching you and gently touching your cheek, “you know I love you, right?”

“Of course,” he said fondly, “and I love you, sweetheart. I thought that was kind of obvious at this point, but if I need to keep reminding you, I have no problem with that. I will do all day, every day.”

“I...I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out before you could chicken out and wait for a different time. You wanted to tell him, to share your nervous excitement with him, “I...surprise.”

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated, a million different expressions crossing his features as you nodded, trying to decipher his reaction. Gods, you hoped he wouldn’t be upset, or think it was too soon. While it was true you’d only been Mr. and Mrs. Pike for a few months, you’d been together for several years now. Surely, this wouldn’t be upsetting...but in the moment you were questioning everything, and suddenly felt sick to your stomach, “pregnant.”

“Yes,” you breathed out anxiously, “I found out a few days ago. I just...I was trying to find the right time to tell you. And then my mom...of course she’d ask now, and it just…everything feels so overwhelming and I’m so nervous and scared and I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t want you to be mad or upset…”

“Mad?” he asked incredulously as he took your face in his hands, “I could never, ever be mad at you. Especially not with something like this.”

“You’re not upset?”

“No,” he promised, “I’m happy...so happy. This is wonderful news - the only other day that could compare was the day we met and you fell into my arms...or the day you said yes to marrying me...or our wedding. But this? This is amazing.”

“I just...I didn’t think it would happen so soon,” you admitted, “I just got off birth control and they told me it could take a while, and I thought we’d be fine with waiting, you know? Like it would happen when it would happen. And then boom - pregnant.”

“Everything happens just as it should,” he promised, closing the minuscule gap between your faces and pressing his lips gently to yours, “I love you, so much. Nothing is ever going to change that. Now it’s you, and our baby.”

He slowly slid his hand down to your waist and then over your still nonexistent belly, a small, contented sigh escaping his lips. You leaned into his touch, burying your face into his chest, “I love you so much. I’m so glad you’re excited, I am too. Nervous but excited.”

“And we’ll figure this all out together,” he promised, “you know I’m with you, every step of the way.”

“I’m so...I’m so lucky you’re in my life, Marcus,” you said softly, “you came along right when I needed you, when it was supposed to happen.”

“Like I always say, things happen as they should,” he wrapped his arms around you before kissing the crown of your head, “you have made me happier than I could have ever imagined. Just out of curiosity, how far along are you?”

“Almost nine weeks,” you admitted sheepishly, grinning at him. You could see him doing some quick math in his head, “yeah, I will admit I wasn’t the fastest on the uptake on that one.”

“Nine weeks,” he repeated, “so you got pregnant like right after you got off birth control.”

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly, “it didn’t take much at all. Guess that means we got lucky...or something. Who knows, maybe we’ll end up with a whole little gang of baby Pikes.”

“I’m not opposed to that idea,” his eyes practically lit up at the idea. You didn’t care if you ended up with one or more, as long as they were happy and healthy. But you wouldn’t complain about more either, especially if they took after Marcus. Marcus, the kind hearted, handsome love of your life. You kissed him softly, wishing this moment never had to end, “but we’ll take it as it comes.”

“Yes,” you agreed, “we can do it all together.”

“We’re a team,” he promised, “now, are you the two of you ready for some ice cream?”

“Sounds perfect.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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ikeromantic · 3 years

Text

Trust

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place toward the end of Ch. 13 of the Romantic Route. SPOILERS!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Base Villains

Mitsuhide felt a surge of incoherent rage. His beloved little mouse stood beside the shogun, her arm in his iron-grip. Her face was bruised - and likely more of her that he couldn’t see. Her clothes were torn and bloody. If Ashikaga thought this would bring him mercy, he was badly mistaken.

She turned her eyes from the shogun to look at Mitsuhide. There was a world of hurt in that gaze, but strength too. Despite all she’d suffered, she was angry and determined. There was even a flare of joy in her at seeing him.

“You base villains,” Ashikaga shrieked. He waved the guards to attack, but the daimyo’s men didn’t move.

Motonari ignored the shogun completely. He gave the chatelaine a saucy grin. “Hey! Yer lookin’ pretty good fer a prisoner, m’lady!” He even dipped in a slight bow to her, though the effect was somewhat lacking given the blood spatter and gore on him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my love.” Mitsuhide took a step toward her.

She smiled, though the expression clearly caused her pain. “I knew you’d come.”

“I hoped you would say that, which is why I endeavored to come just as you needed me.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help the genuine affection that colored his voice when he spoke to her. He was still angry - still planning to tear the shogun’s body into pieces - but that rage burned right beside the fires of his love. One did not contradict the other. He knew he didn’t need to gentle himself for her. “I will have you free and in my arms in a moment.”

“Guards!” Ashikaga shrieked, his voice cutting through the nearby sounds of battle. He was not a man that liked being ignored.

The door of the side room burst open, spilling the shogun’s personal guards into the room. Where the daimyo’s men would not obey, these men were eager to do as ordered. There were only four of them, and at least one looked as if he was already half-dead.

“I expected more from you, Yoshiaki. It seems your popularity has taken a plunge.” Mitsuhide lifted his sword, ready to fight.

Motonari laughed. “Aww, if I’da known you were so hard-up fer help, I might not a’ betrayed ya so quick.”

The shogun’s face flushed crimson and he shook with anger. “You - you fools think to mock me? Know your position!” He jerked the chatelaine in front of him. “Besides, I have a hostage. You are mad to go against me!”

“I am quite sane, I assure you,” Mitsuhide’s eyes narrowed. The shogun clearly wasn’t. Mitsuhide was willing to kill a man for making his little one cry. For this . . . death was too easy. “Yoshiaki, this world has moved on. It has no more need for men like you. Because you fail to grasp this, I have come to assist you off the stage myself.”

The shogun’s eyes were wide, though with fear or anger, it was impossible to say. “Insolence! Make your jokes while you have breath for them.” Then he smiled and pulled a dagger from his belt. He pressed the sharp edge to the chatelaine’s throat.

She gasped and froze.

Behind them, one of the servants - no, Mitsuhide realized - Kyubei! - began to step forward. Mitsuhide gave the barest shake of his head. An attack now would mean death for his little mouse. The right moment would come.

“See they do not approach me,” Ashikaga ordered his men.

The half-dead looking guard bowed to the shogun. “As you command, majesty.” Then he turned his gaze to the intruders. Mitsuhide saw in them the fires of fanaticism, and the darkness of death approaching. This man had no fear, not anymore. He pulled a long sword and held it up. “I sentence you to death, kitsune. It is too light a punishment for turning on the shogun, but it is the best I can mete out.”

Motonari gave an excited shout. “Hell yes! Looks like one o’ yer men has got some backbone!”

Yoshiaki hissed something to the chatelaine and then pulled her to the corner of the room.

“I’ll take the room. You can have the shogun.” Motonari didn’t wait for a reply, just charged forward. He was immediately met by the half-dead fanatic, who despite his wounds, was clearly the best of the remaining fighters. “Let’s have us some fun!”

“This will be no game,” the fanatic’s expression was grim.

They exchanged blows, their blades screeching as they met again and again.

Mitsuhide shook his head. Mouri was mad, but at least that had its usefulness. At least this provided him an opening. He dodged past the remaining guards toward the shogun.

“You rush to your end,” Yoshiaki shouted. He pushed past the doors to a small balcony. It was a bare ledge with no railings. Below, the battle was slowing as men died or surrendered. Their cries were carried up to the tenshu on the cold night air.

The chatelaine went with him, the dagger still on her throat kept her still and compliant.

“If you so much as twitch, I’ll throw you to your death,” the shogun hissed at her.

Mitsuhide sheathed his sword and pulled the matchlock from his back. There wasn’t enough space on that narrow ledge to fight. In this, the tanegashima was a better choice. If his aim held true. He checked the load and primed it to fire. Then he pointed it at the shogun. “Do not move.”

The shogun pressed his knife hard against the chatelaine’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood. “It is you who should be careful of his movements.” He grinned, already feeling he’d won. “Now lower your rifle.”

“You can only kill her once, Yoshiaki.”

“Disarm yourself and kneel, kitsune! Do it, or I will kill her!”

Despite his words, Mitsuhide was terrified. Seeing the blood on her neck only drove home the very real possibility that she would die here, now. He would still finish his mission. The shogun would die. But his little one . . . The thought froze his limbs and stopped his heart. He told himself that Ashikaga would kill her anyway, even if he dropped the gun and knelt. Yet . . . if there was a chance that he would let her go . . .

Seeing Mitsuhide’s conflict, Yoshiaki’s smile widened. “Call off your troops and I will let the girl live. Do it, and I may even forgive you for turning against me.”

Mitsuhide didn’t move.

“Now, or must I say it louder?!”

He ignored the shogun and studied the face of his beloved little one. She saw the decision he had to make. And she understood. Without moving, she gifted him her trust. His little mouse knew the risk he was about to take and accepted it, as he must. Her bravery made his chest hurt and his throat close. But he could only honor it now by taking action.

As Mitsuhide took aim, the chatelaine lifted her hands and in a practiced motion, grabbed the shogun’s knife arm. “Now,” she shouted. She had only seconds that she could hold Ashikaga at bay.

Mitsuhide sent a prayer to whatever gods or devils may be listening, and he pulled the trigger.

The moment stretched. He saw the powder light, heard the explosion of the bullet as it left the barrel. Watched Ashikaga’s ribs buckle under the impact, and his blood stained the cloth around the wound.

“What?” The shogun looked down at himself in confusion. His grip on the knife loosened. The blade fell to the ground.

The messenger stopped fighting Motonari in the room behind them and flung himself toward Mitsuhide. There was death in his eyes. He knew he couldn’t survive this attack, but he was determined to avenge the shogun as his last living act.

Kyubei lunged forward, putting himself between Mitsuhide and the nearly dead warrior. His sword took the man in his gut, stopping him before he could so much as breathe on Akechi. The hate in the messenger’s eyes burned to emptiness as his life-blood spilled. Kyubei watched impassively until he was sure the man was really dead.

“Nice kill,” Motonari remarked. “Who’re you?”

“No one.” Kyubei gave a half smile and pulled his sword free.

Mitsuhide spared a moment to clap him on the shoulder. Their eyes met. There was much to discuss, of course, but it could wait. The shogun was dead, the chatelaine was alright, and there were yet plans to put in motion.

“Mouri, go make sure Kennyo isn’t overwhelmed. There is still fighting on the grounds below us. Everything must be calm before the shogun arrives.”

“Yer losin’ yer mind, kitsune. The shogun’s right there.” Mouri’s eyes narrowed as Yoshiaki staggered to the edge of the narrow ledge. His legs shook. His chest spasmed as he gasped for air. And then, Yoshiaki Ashikaga fell.

Mitsuhide closed the distance between him and his little mouse. He pulled her tight against him. “You are alright.”

“I know.” She snuggled closer.

“Guess I’ll leave ya two lovebirds and go see to Kennyo,” Motonari said gruffly. “Ya did good princess.”

She didn’t look up to watch him go, though Mitsuhide’s eyes followed the pirate until he was gone from sight. Then his attention was back on his little one. Her deep, shaking breaths slowed and steadied. “I hope one day, awful things like this don’t have to happen anymore.”

“As do I.” He stroked her back gently. He had wanted to insulate her from this. To protect her. But his little mouse was strong enough to see death and recover from it. She’d proven herself yet again to be his match. Here she was, injured and in shock, yet she still held strength. Though he hadn’t believed he could love her more, he felt a surge of affection for this strange, sweet woman.

A dry cough from the room behind them eventually broke their moment of peace. Kyubei, still dressed as one of the daimyo’s servants, stood beside . . . Ashikaga Yoshiaki. Or, his replacement.

“Sorry to interrupt. I was just wondering when you’d clear this place out. My room is a mess!” The shogun wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Kyubei nudged him. “The shogun would never apologize.”

“Ah, right. Interrupting you was an annoyance. How dare you embrace and not regard my entrance with the appropriate obeisance?” The shogun smiled.

Mitsuhide smiled back. “I see. My apologies to you then. Shall I kneel?”

The chatelaine looked down at the ground below for a moment as if to check that Ashikaga’s body was still there. Then she looked back up at his double. “You - who? No wait! You’re the scribe! We met you in Kyoto at the shogun’s estate.”

“Riku, at your service, princess.” The shogun bowed. “Ashikaga kept my service while he was in hiding here, and eventually brought me out to scribe for him. Just as Akechi suspected he would.”

“And you made contact with my spy as instructed, I see,” Mitsuhide smiled.

“I did. He told me your idea and, at first I wasn’t interested but -”

“I am very persuasive,” Kyubei grinned.

Riku, now the shogun’s double, nodded. “And the daimyo agreed to go along with it, provided his family was spared. So here we are.” He looked a little nervous.

“You will make an excellent shogun in exile,” Mitsuhide reassured him. “All you need do is enjoy the remaining wealth of the Ashikaga clan and stay out of Oda’s way.”

“I will,” Riku’s expression was determined, if a little pale. “It’s more than I ever could have hoped for as a mere scribe.”

Mitsuhide nodded. “I will leave you in Kyubei’s care for now. He will alert me if you need support.” His eyes fell to his little mouse. “I have more important tasks this day.”

He spared not a heartbeat more before lifting her into his arms. It felt like they’d been apart forever, though it was really only a few days. Mitsuhide carried her past the few lingering fights, and into one of the daimyo’s guest rooms. It was quieter here, though the smell of gunpowder and blood still hung on the air.

“I would take you to Kyoto, but first . . .” he brushed a finger along the edge of her jaw. Her cheek was swollen and bruised. “We must see to your injuries. What happened?”

She told him about her capture as he gently rubbed balm into her wounds. Mitsuhide could tell it stung - both the ointment and relating her capture. But he was proud of her for trying to outsmart Ashikaga’s man, and for fighting back.

“I am sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,” he said softly, and kissed her forehead.

She put her hand to his cheek and shook her head. “You can’t always be right beside me. I don’t expect you to be. I did my best to keep myself safe and . . . I knew if I couldn’t, that you would rescue me. And you did.”

Mitsuhide felt a sharp warmth in his eyes and realized he might cry. Her trust in him . . . he simply didn’t have words for the way it made him feel. “I love you, little one.”

“And I love you.”

Next: Tears of Joy

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #mitsuhide akechi #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic

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nutmegalomania · 3 years

Text

Movie Night

a mammon x male reader ff

description: on a night when all you wanted to do was to get an early night's sleep, mammon decided to barge into your room and force you into a movie night. you had thought your hormones were under control, but you soon snapped. what first started out as the two of you innocently watching the wide variety of movies he brought turned into a steamy night with the movie night long forgotten.

ingredients: mammon (obey me!)/reader, male reader, mammon (obey me!), bottom mammon, movie night, smut, blow jobs, anal fingering, gay sex

flavor: spicy 🌶️

calories: 9,410

🥐

You sat on your back atop your bed, flitting through the manga you asked to borrow from Levi, when a knock on the sound of your door creaking open grabbed your attention. The manga shut as you turned your attention to the intruder who didn’t even have the manners to knock, and you sighed when Mammon slinked into your room with several movies in his hands. Instead of greeting you, he plopped down in front of your TV and turned it on, ignoring you as you shuffled into a sitting position.

“A ‘hello’ would be nice once in a while, Mammon,” you said, and he swatted a hand at you without taking his attention away from the blue screen in front of him.

A deep sigh left you as you stood from your bed, dizziness taking over you for a few seconds before you blinked a few times and walked over to Mammon. You braced your hands on your knees as you bent over to get a look at the collection of movies he had splayed in his lap, but he leaned forward to cover them from your vision.

“If you don’t tell me why the hell you barged into my room at 10 pm with a bunch of movies, I’ll kick you out and lock the door... after I steal my duplicate room key back from you,” you said when he opened his mouth to argue back.

At that, he shut his mouth, and he turned his head in your direction with wide, frightened eyes at your threat. You gave him a soft smile, but your eyes told him not to fuck with you. He barged in during your manga reading session, though you hadn’t been able to concentrate on the words and drawings as your pent up sexual frustrations begged for your attention. Frankly, the last thing you needed was Mammon coming into your room when all you wanted was to jerk off and go to sleep.

“The... The—ummm—No one else would watch movies with me. It’s-It’s not like I want to watch ‘em with you or anything. Ya got that?! You’re the only person I could think of that would be willing to watch ‘em with me. Not that you’re special at all! Just my last choice, okay? Don’t get any funny ideas, ya hear!” he sputtered out, face reddening as he avoided your eyes.

With a groan, you sat down on the floor beside him, noticing how his body jolted when your knee touched his leg. You stretched your legs out in front of you and leaned back onto your hands while you fixed him with an intrigued stare.

“Okay. I’ll entertain you for a bit. Not like I have much to do either way.” Your head rolled to the side as you watched Mammon fidget with the movies in his lap. You reached a hand into his lap to grab out a movie case. He tensed when your hand grazed his inner thigh, and you pretended not to see it, though the redness of his ears made you want to tease him some more. As you flipped the movie around in your hand, you hummed. “Isn’t this a horror? I thought you hated those types of movies.”

“I-I thought someone else would enjoy it. It was just a suggestion! I didn’t wanna try to overcome my fear of them or something like that. Don’t go spreading false information to any of the others, ya hear me!”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, a deep chuckle making your chest bounce while he tried defending himself with a red face. “I won’t. I won’t. I promise!”

He pouted at your reaction and snatched the movie out of your hand before throwing it onto your bed, and out of your reach. You opened your mouth to speak your thoughts, but Mammon grabbed a random movie from his pile of what looked like five movies—six including the discarded horror movie—and held it up. From the cover, it seemed to be an action spy movie, a man with his back facing the viewer as a woman held him close against her body with her face giving a sultry look while she held a gun up looking at you. He opened it and slid the disc out before he got onto all fours to crawl forward to the DVD player to put the disc in.

You leaned back and honed your eyes onto the curve of his ass through his jeans as he stuck it out while he inserted the disc, and you mentally slapped yourself when you imagined something else entering a place you wouldn’t speak of. The DVD player whirred as it sucked the disc in and read it, and before long, ads popped up. Mammon cursed as he searched for the remote, and you grabbed it from the table next to you to hand to him. Your hands touched each other when he took it from you, and the warmth from his fingertips lingered against your cool skin. This time, Mammon acted as if nothing happened, but the redness of his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

As he skipped the ads and reached the title screen of the movie, you decided to ask the all important question. “Did you bring popcorn?”

In response, he reached into his jacket and pulled out two packages of popcorn, a serious look on his face as he scanned the screen. A chuckle left you that turned into full blown laughter with you clutching your stomach and rolling on the floor.

“What-what are ya laughing ‘bout?!” Mammon asked as he turned his attention towards your body, wondering what drugs you had taken.

“I didn’t expect you to actually have popcorn! And your face when you pulled it out!” You let out a series of breathy laughs, and you sat up and crossed your legs as you let your laughter fade out. “You didn’t have to look so serious! I thought you were planning how to knock me out and steal all my shit while using popcorn as your distraction.”

“Sh-shut up! I had to hide it from Beel or else he’d interrupt.” Once those words left Mammon’s mouth, his hands shot up to cover it, and he looked at you with wide eyes.

You tilted your head to the side as you watched his face redden even more than it was—which you didn’t believe to be possible. “Oh? So does that mean you didn’t ask the others before me?” When he shifted from side to side, you leaned in closer to his face, and he avoided your face. “Or am I reading too deeply into things? Was it just a slip of the tongue? Is there something Beel would interrupt going on here?”

“Just… Just be quiet! It’s nothing, all right?! You’re-you’re just reading too deep into what I-I said. I-Idiot!” he said, and his stuttering made your heart clench from how endearing you found it. You wanted to tease him more, but at the same time, you didn’t want to scare him off so that you could see how everything played out.

You’d be a good boy and comply with his wishes for a movie night, no matter how much your hormones raged on inside you and urged you to tease him until he became a sputtering, blushing, crying mess underneath you. Now your groin burned as images of a crying Mammon popped into your mind, and you groaned as you adjusted your sitting position. As Mammon stood up to pop the popcorn in your microwave, you grabbed his wrist and dragged his attention towards your figure on the floor. You thanked your oversized t-shirt for covering the raging boner you had now as he looked at you.

“I’ll pop the bags. You just ready everything else, okay?” you told him, relieved when he nodded his head and plopped back down onto the floor as you stood up.

You hissed as you walked towards your microwave, your erection rubbing against your thighs as you moved, and you were glad Mammon focused on readying the TV and seats for the two of you to snuggle into. You shoved the first bag of popcorn into the microwave and pulled out a bowl to put it in. While you stood there, waiting for the timer to run out, you willed your boner to disappear, and you thought about Lucifer scolding you for taking part in Belphie and Satan’s shenanigans against him. That seemed to do the trick, for now at least, and the timer beeped. After emptying the bag into the bowl, you shoved the second package into the microwave. The smell of buttery popcorn wafted through your room, and you hummed in content before you emptied the last bag into a new bowl for yourself. As you readied yourself to walk over to Mammon, he looked over his shoulder at you, eyes already in puppy mode, and you sighed as you waited for his request.

“Could ya get some drinks too?” he asked.

“What? Where the hell would I get drinks from?” You grabbed the two bowls of popcorn and headed over to him. When you bent down to set them on the ground, he pointed towards the fridge in your room that tended to house yogurt or pudding that Beel asked you to hide from Mammon. You looked at Mammon through slitted eyes, and he gave you a smile that made you roll your eyes before you listened to him and walked over to your mini fridge. The moment you opened it, a pack of sodas greeted you, and you glared at Mammon who avoided your eyes. “When did you buy these and put them in here?”

“Well—ya see—the thing is....” he trailed off, and you put a hand on your hip.

“Mammon.”

At the no-nonsense tone in your voice, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you. “I bought ‘em a few days ago and snuck in while ya were sleeping to stash ‘em away.”

With an irritated sigh, you grabbed two cans and walked over to him to bonk him on the head with his. “That’s it. Gimme your copy of my key right now. Who knows what other shit you’ve done in my room while I’ve been asleep.” You sat down next to him and held out your hand, but the cool feeling of metal against your palm never appeared.

Mammon shook his head and leaned away from you, clutching the side of his jacket, where you assumed he kept the key to your room. You let out a deep sigh and leaned towards him to snatch the key from him, but he leaned further away.

“I’m not playing your games, Mammon. Just give me the damn key,” you said, fed up with his lack of cooperation. Again, he shook his head, and you pushed yourself to your feet to tower over his sitting figure. He looked up at you with wide eyes, and you took his surprise as your chance to grab him and grab at his jacket to steal your key back.

“No! Ya ain’t getting it back! Over my dead body!” he said as he clutched his chest and twisted his body around to kick at you with pitiful hits that only served to distance the two of you and not stop your pursuit.

You drew closer to him, and he leaned back, letting out a grunt as his back hit the ground. In that quick second, you jumped on top of him, pushing his legs down and sitting on them to keep him from kicking you. As you straddle his legs, you leaned over him and pried his hands away from his jacket. You held his wrist together above his head with one hand while you used the other to search his jacket. Your hand rubbed against his chest, and he pursed his lips and turned his head to the side, neck and ears burning red while his legs fidgeted underneath you. His body twitched when you ran across his nipple through the fabric of his shirt, and when you felt the cool metal of the key, you snatched it out and released his wrists and clambered off him before you did something you’d regret.

“Got it. Now you can’t barge into my room in the middle of the night to watch me sleep,” you said, hoping a little joke would lightened the mood, but Mammon didn’t respond as he laid on the floor for a few more seconds before he sat up with a flushed face, fixed his crumpled jacket, and slid into his spot.

He grabbed his popcorn bucket and placed it in his lap, remote in hand. Without a word, he hit play and opened his soda, the fizzing pop of it echoing in the quiet room. Instead of pushing the issue, you stuffed the key into the pocket of your sweatpants and grabbed your own popcorn and soda to enjoy the movie. To be honest, you didn’t even remember what it was about as your mind busied you with images of Mammon blushing underneath you, body jolting as you ran your hands across the naked expanse of his chest. Your mind only registered flashing lights that flitted on the screen and mixed with yells. You couldn’t tell if Mammon was into it either with the way his eyes seemed hollow, as if he were looking through the TV.

Before long, the movie ended, and he instantly shoved a new one in without saying anything. You didn’t complain, assuming he would be uncomfortable talking to you after the situation that transpired between the two of you a few hours before the first movie. He put on a romance movie next, and while you tried to focus on the story this time, the moment the two main characters kissed, all you could think of was you and Mammon kissing instead. You wondered how soft his lips would feel, if you’d be able to taste his chapstick or if he’d taste like popcorn and sickenly sweet soda, if he’d wrap his arms around your neck and press his body against yours, whether or not he’d use his tongue, or if he’d moan and squirm as you deepen the kiss.

You grabbed a pillow from your bed and covered your lap with it, hoping to hide your boner from Mammon. His eyes focused on the movie though, and he reached into his bowl of popcorn to grab more, only to pout when he felt nothing. He had finished it an hour before and seemed to have forgotten. You, on the other hand, still had almost your full bowl of popcorn as you were too preoccupied with your dirty thoughts to eat any. You handed him your bowl of no-longer-warm popcorn, and he perked up to take it from you. A content smile came to his face as he shoveled more popcorn into his mouth, not caring if it wasn’t fresh.

The credits greeted you the next time you blinked and exited your thoughts, and Mammon sat there, sniffling as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. You didn’t know what he was sad over since you couldn’t focus on this movie either. You reached onto the table next to you, grabbed the tissues, and handed them to him. While he blew his nose, you checked the time, taking a deep breath when you saw that it was only 1:36 am. As Mammon reached for another movie in his stash, you grabbed his hand.

“Why don’t we mix things up a bit?” you said when he gave you a questioning look.

Before he could ask what you meant, you scooted back towards your bed, grabbed the horror movie off of it, and scooted back to him. His eyes zoomed in on the cover of it, and they widened as he shook his head.

“Why not? We could help you get over your fear of them. Think of it like exposure therapy. I’ll also be here to fend off any scary monsters that are lurking in the dark,” you said, and he hesitantly nodded his head, looking a little relieved. You offered him a soft smile and put the movie in.

A scream sounded when it started, and Mammon jumped, the kernels in the bowl flying out of it and hitting the floor. You gave him a worried look, unsure if it was a good idea now, and he only shook his head and focused on the movie. Whenever suspenseful music came on, his body tensed, and during jumpscares, he’d fling his body around out of fright. When he had one especially bad fright, you paused the movie and scooted over to him, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close to your body.

You rubbed up and down on his shoulder. He looked up at you, tears in his eyes. Your breathing stopped as you took in his disheveled appearance, teary eyes, and red face, and thoughts swam around your head and made your brain come close to short circuiting. Shallow breaths pushed through his lips as his chest moved up and down, and you swallowed thickly. Once he calmed down, he placed a hand on your thigh to push himself up, but it slipped, and your eyes widened when it brushed against your erection.

You turned your head towards him so slowly as everything felt like it was in slow motion. Mammon retracted his hand and shot up, and he stared back at you with wide eyes. The silence between the two of you resounded in your ears, louder than anything you’d ever heard before. Your mouth opened and closed as you tried to say something, but you couldn’t come up with anything to say. You were happy when Mammon said something, but his words were the last thing you’d expected him to say, only hearing them in your dreams.

“Do-do ya want some help with that?”

At the embarrassed tone in his voice, your body tensed. “What?” was all you could say, and you wanted to slap yourself for sounding so stupid.

“It looks painful,” he said as his eyes zoned in on your raging boner, and you realized he had knocked the pillow away from your lap in his haste to stand up.

“I-uh…” You couldn’t think of anything to respond with. You wanted to shout “Yes, please!”, but you didn’t want to scare him away and let him in on your carnal desires that revolved around him. “N-no! I can… I can take care of it myself.” The awkwardness in the room made you want to run into your bathroom to take care of it, but with the way Mammon kept staring at your erection, you felt that moving would be a bad idea. You grabbed the pillow and held it against your front as you stood up, Mammon’s eyes trailing up to your embarrassed face. “Good night, Mammon. Uh… See you tomorrow?” You wanted to jump into the burning pits of hell and die a painful death.

You tried to side shuffle your way to the bathroom, but before you made it far, Mammon walked up to you and pushed you down onto the bed. You let out a surprised grunt as your back sank into your mattress. The pillow disappeared from its spot covering your boner, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to see Mammon sitting on his knees between your legs. You sucked in a deep breath as he slipped his warm hands under your shirt and ran them across your torso. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he stared at the bulge in your sweatpants with hungry eyes, and your dick twitched.

He brought a shaky hand to the waistband of your sweatpants and boxers, and he dragged the both down, gasping when your erection sprang out in front of him. He grabbed the base of your cock in his hand, and his eyes trembled as he felt the heat from your shaft seep into his palm. His hesitation made you stop for a second.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Mammon. I can take care of it myself,” you told him, but he shook his head, fluffy white hair bouncing to show you his disagreement with your statement.

Mammon leaned in close to your dick, sucking in a deep breath when it throbbed in his hand, and placed a kiss to the smooth skin of your shaft. Your cock twitched at the feeling of his soft, warm lips against you, and the way he looked you straight in the eyes with hooded eyelids and irises burning with sexual desire made you want to take him right there

“I want to do it for ya,” he rasped, and you didn’t get the chance to answer before he licked a slow strip up your shaft while his thumb circled the tip, and your body flinched when his thumbnail scraped against your slit.

“Mammon,” you groaned as he pressed his thumb down against your slit, his soft lips working on the sides of your cock. You needed his mouth around you… now.

At the low, gravelly sound of your voice, Mammon squirmed in his spot on the floor, but he complied to your silent request. His thumb stopped circling your head, the warmth of his smooth lips soon replacing the rough pad of his finger. You let out a shaky breath as his lips parted, and warmth encased your tip as he slipped your length into his mouth. A hand grabbed at Mammon’s hair, and he groaned as you tugged at his roots, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves of pleasure down your cock.

“Shit…” you breathed out, and Mammon dragged his mouth back up to your tip while his tongue swirled around it and picked up the beads of precum that spilled from the slit.

His cheeks hollowed as he sucked at your tip, and soft hums of content left his throat as the bitter taste of your precum reached his taste buds and spread across his tongue. You ran your fingers through his hair, the soft strands caressing the skin of your digits as he relaxed his jaw and pushed his head down further on your cock. You bit your lip as the warmth from his mouth hit your dick and made it twitch, and when your tip pressed against the back of his throat, you couldn’t hold back the loud moan as his throat clenched around your length. You wanted to shove his head further down on your shaft, but the tears in his eyes made you stop, and he pulled off you as he gagged. Coughs wracked his body, and you grabbed the sides of his face, thumbs swiping at the tears spilling from his reddening eyes.

“Are you okay? If it’s too hard on you, we can just move on,” you said. The way his body shook with each cough stabbed at your chest, and you were five seconds away from telling him to drink some water while you busied yourself in the bathroom, but he shook his head again.

He looked you dead in the eyes, determination flashing through them, and the breath caught in your chest. He scooted closer to you until your legs sandwiched him, and your cock stood directly in front of his face. His pink tongue flicked out to swipe across his thick bottom lip, and he took a deep breath.

“I just need to get used to it. I ain’t stopping unless ya tell me you want to,” he said, and you opened your mouth to respond.

With one hand, he grabbed your cock, and the other reached up to settle high on your stomach. He applied pressure with his hand on your stomach until you flopped back onto your bed, and he wrapped his lips back around your tip. This time, he took a deep breath through his nose before he relaxed his jaw and pushed his head down your shaft. His throat closed around your shaft, and you squeezed your eyes shut. After a few seconds, it relaxed, and you hissed as more of you slipped into his mouth. You covered your eyes with your arm, trying your best to yourself back from thrusting into his mouth.

Before long, his nose bumped against your pubic bone, and he hummed at the feeling of your large cock sitting inside his mouth and throbbing against his tongue. You couldn’t stop your hips from thrusting upwards, and Mammon let out a surprised gag.

“Shit! I’m sorry… I couldn’t hold it back.”

He breathed out through his nose to tell you it was all right as he settled himself back down until all of you was inside his mouth. He stayed there for a few seconds to let his throat adjust to your size, and he pulled his head up, a wet sucking sound following before he shoved his head back down and repeating it again. Your stomach and legs tensed as he sucked in slowly every time he pulled up, and you sat up to place a steady hand on the back of his head. Once he fully got used to feeling you entering his mouth, he sped his pace, head bobbing up and down as wet gagging sounds echoed throughout your room.

The warmth of his mouth mixing with the pressure from his sucking made your high come to you faster than you would have liked, and you twitched inside his mouth, signaling that you were close. He looked up at you through his bangs, his yellow and blue eyes piercing into yours, saliva spilling from his lips as he bobbed up and down on your cock. Tears formed a shiny gloss over his eyes as lust twinkled inside them, and you couldn’t stop your body from tensing as you twitched in his mouth and released your cum. Mammon didn’t pull off no matter how much you tried to tug him off. A throaty groan left your throat as your body tensed as you released inside his mouth.

As you filled his mouth with your thick, warm cum, his body twitched, and a loud, muffled moan left him. You pulled out of his mouth as a final string of cum shot out onto his face, and he stuck his tongue out to catch what he could as he let out ragged pants. While your orgasm calmed down, you took the chance to look over him and his disheveled appearance. His silky hair stuck up in random directions, and a mixture of saliva and tears made his reddened face shiny in the lights of your bedroom. His jacket and shirt were crumpled, and as you dragged your eyes down further, you sucked in a breath.

“Did… Did you just cum from sucking me off?” you said in surprise as you noticed the stain in his pants, and Mammon nodded slowly as his hooded eyes stared right into yours, his hands swiping your cum off of his face and shoving it into his mouth as a blush spread across his cheeks and ears. He swirled his lips around his digits, bobbing his head on them to get every last drop he could from them, and you groaned at the sight, your dick springing right back up.

“Get on the bed,” you ordered as blood rushed down to your erection, and he didn’t need to be told twice before he slipped off his belt, climbed onto the bed, and laid on his back, legs spread and the bulge in his pants prominent.

As you looked at his wet lips and lustful eyes, you bit your lips and ran your hands along the dips in his waist until you grabbed his jacket and helped slide it off him. He sat up to let you slip it free from his arms, his face centimeters from yours and his breath fanning against your lips. You leaned forward to capture his lips, but he laid back on the bed, his shirt riding up to expose the smooth muscles of his stomach. You let out an irritated breath and jabbed the inside of your cheek with your tongue, but you didn’t stop raking your eyes over his figure. On your bed. Ready to be fucked by you.

The fact that the reason for your sexual frustrations laid in front of you, ready for you to fuck him senseless, still felt like a dream to you. Mammon noticed you losing yourself in your thoughts, and he grabbed the collar of your shirt to pull you down on top of him. As you braced your forearms on either side of his head, he pressed his lips against yours. Your eyes widened as you felt the softness of his lips rubbing against yours. A delicious shiver ran down your spine as you realized just how well your lips fit into Mammon’s, as if they were destined for each other.

Your sexual fantasies took control of you, and while he softly kissed you, your tongue slithered between his lips and entered his mouth, eyes closing. He let out a surprised squeak that you swallowed and tensed underneath you as your tongue rubbed against his, but before long, he relaxed and let you swirl your tongue around his. Though the two of you had just eaten popcorn, his saliva tasted sweet against your taste buds, and you couldn’t get enough of it. Mammon fisted your shirt tighter as you deepened the kiss and licked inside his mouth, savoring the flavor of him as your mind clouded with lust. He shuddered when you licked his teeth, and his body warmed up underneath you until you could feel it through your clothes. When you pulled back to catch your breath and opened your eyes, your breathing stopped as Mammon looked at you with a red face, eyes hazy as soft pants pushed past his red and swollen lips.

“Fuck…” you said as your cock twitched in your pants, begging to be inside Mammon.

You dipped your head back down to recapture his lips as your hands ran underneath his shirt that exposed his stomach. Mammon’s stomach tensed underneath your cool hands, and he bit your bottom lip and tugged at it, letting out a content sigh as you rubbed his sides. The calloused skin of your hands caressed his smooth skin, and he shuddered underneath your touch as your hands slid higher up his body, pushing his shirt higher up on his body. Your thumb ran over his hard nipple, and he mewled, eyes screwing shut as his chest pushed up in the air until it rubbed against yours.

Your arm slithered behind his back, pulling him closer against your chest while you twirled his nipple beneath your thumb. The soft pants he let out on your lips made it impossible for you to stop caressing his warm skin and pressing your lips to his. As you held him against your chest, your hand behind his back slid down until it brushed against the waistband of his jeans. He sucked in a breath as he clutched your face and kissed you, and you slipped your tongue back inside his mouth, your hand slipping beneath his jeans to ghost the rough pads of your fingers across the skin of his ass.

Mammon moaned at the warmth of your hand and thrusted his hips up, rubbing the bulge in his pants against your erection. You let out a shocked grunt at the feeling of him pressing against you, and you pulled away from him to sit back on your knees. He laid in front of you, shirt barely covering his chest as his nipples stood proudly in the air for you to train your eyes on and bulge painfully hard in his pants. A deep breath left you as you held yourself back from stripping him right there and taking him at once.

He decided to test your patience though when he trailed a hand up his exposed chest to his lips, dragging his bottom lip down while his other hand cupped your boner. He pushed himself back on you and ground against your boner, and you screwed your eyes shut, lips pursing to hide the groans that threatened to spill. Mammon didn’t like that, and he slowly circled his hips.

“Fuck, Mammon…” you breathed out, the lust in your voice dropping it an octave as his name rolled off your tongue to dance in his ears, and his teeth caught his finger as a light breath pushed from his lips at the way you said his name.

“Hurry up. I… I can’t take it no more, Y/N,” he said, hips still circling as the finger in his mouth trailed down to run over his boner, and you placed your hands on his hips to stop his movement. He opened his mouth to complain, but when you pulled him into a sitting position to slip off his shirt and throw it to the ground where it crumpled into a pile of cloth with his jacket, he zipped his lips and flopped back onto the bed.

Your hands grabbed the waistband of his jeans after you unzipped it, and you tugged them free from his legs. He shuddered as the material of his jeans brushed against his sensitive skin. Your mouth ran dry as Mammon laid in front of you in nothing but his boxers, a thin sheen of sweat creating a shine against his warm tan skin. He propped himself up on his elbows and ran his eyes up and down your body. He pressed a foot against your boner, and you let out a string of breathy curses as the aching in your cock spread throughout your groin. You needed to be inside him, to feel his warmth squeezing you as he moaned in pleasure.

“Turn around,” you said as you grabbed his ankle to stop his foot.

“Wha- No. I wanna look at ya,” he said back, and you sighed, reaching into your bedside nightstand to grab out a bottle of lube you kept in there for reasons.

“I have to prep you first. It will be easier for you if you’re on all fours.” Before he could argue, you flipped him over until his ass stuck in the air.

Your tongue swiped across your bottom lip as you slid his boxers down his thighs. His body twitched when you grabbed his ass, and he groaned into your pillow as you kneaded the flesh of his ass in your palms. Your thumbs spread his ass apart until you saw his hole in front of you. It clenched around nothing, and you ghosted the pad of your thumb across it, loving the way Mammon shuddered beneath your touch.

“Hurry,” Mammon begged while you squirted lube onto your fingers.

“Patience, baby,” you said, the pet name slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Mammon’s face burned at the name, and he hid his face in your pillow. You smiled to yourself at the redness of his ears and neck that betrayed his embarrassment as you spread his ass with your lube-free hand. You swirled a lubed middle finger around his hole, and he sucked in a breath as the cold lube touched his skin. His entrance clenched, waiting for your finger to enter, and while you wanted to tease him for a while, the aching in your lower half told you to hurry it up.

“Are you sure you want this?” you asked him to make sure, finger still swirling around the skin surrounding his opening, and he peered at you over his shoulder with a groan.

“Why are ya asking it now? Just shove your fingers in. I can’t take it no more!” he told you with a grumble.

“I just want to make sure I’m not getting ahead of myself. Yes or no, Mammon. Do you want to continue?” you said as the tip of your finger scraped over his hole.

“Yes! Just hurry it up before I die over here!” he replied as he pushed his ass back in hopes of getting your finger inside of him.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want you to die now, would we?” you drawled, and as Mammon opened his mouth to retort, you pushed your middle finger inside him.

He threw his head back as your finger pushed inside him, his walls tightening hungrily around it as his jaw clenched. You rested your forehead against his back as the warmth of him spread through your fingers. You could already imagine how he’d feel around your dick.

“Fuck, you’re so soft inside.” Your breath fanned across the bare skin of his back, and he shivered. When he didn’t respond, you jammed your fingers into his hole and watched him throw his head back and bite his bottom lip. The ease with which your fingers slid into him brought an image to your mind of Mammon fingering himself in preparation before coming over to you, and you licked your lips. “Did you prep yourself? You’re pretty loose already. Were you already anticipating this happening?

“I... ain’t tellin’ ya!” he ground out through clenched teeth as you bent your fingers around inside of him. You smirked and ran your free hand along his thigh.

Soft pants left Mammon as you pulled your finger in and out of him, and you bit your lip as he clenched around you each time your finger moved. You added a second finger, and he let out a needy moan as your fingers rubbed against his walls. You spread your fingers inside him, scissoring him open as you thrusted your digits inside him.

“Ah! Hah…” Mammon panted out as you sped up your pace. You angled your fingers downwards, and a high-pitched, drawn out moan left him as his body tensed underneath you.

“Found your sweet spot,” you said as you continued to shove your fingers inside him, adding a third one as you aimed for his prostate.

“Shit… Right-right there! Oh my-” He shoved his face into your pillow to muffle his moans, and you growled in annoyance.

While you fingered him, your free hand reached up to grab the back of his head, his white hair tickling your hand as you gripped the strands between your fingers, and you tugged his head back. He let out a shaky mewl as pain spread through his scalp and sent delicious tingles throughout his body. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face to his neck, where it hung from his Adam’s apple. His eyes screwed shut as heavy pants mixed with moans and spilled from his lips without stopping.

Mammon pushed himself back against your fingers with each thrust, and you leaned forward to tilt his head to the side and capture his lips with yours. The inside of your mouth vibrated as he moaned into it, body tensing and hole clenching around you. You released his hair and reached a hand around to grab his dick in your hand. He let out a shocked choke as you ran your thumb over his tip, the nail of your thumb running over his slit and making his body jerk. Precum from his slit spread over his length and slicked it for you, and you flicked your wrist while you moved your fingers in and out of him. His body rocked back and forth, filthy noises leaving him every second as pleasure built up in his body.

You squeezed his cock in your hand, and with a final thrust of your fingers, a slow, drawn out whimper spilled from him into your mouth as his body tensed and cum shot from his dick onto your bed. You flipped him onto his back, and he didn’t complain as his cum pressed into his back while he let out soft pants and tried to calm down from his orgasm. He watched as you slipped your shirt off, exposing your toned torso to his hungry eyes.

The bed dipped for a second as you pushed yourself off it and walked to your nightstand to pull out a condom packet. As you stood there to grab a few—just in case you needed them—Mammon turned onto his side and grabbed the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging downwards. You chuckled as his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth while he focused all his attention on trying to strip you of your pants. With the condom packets in your hand, you complied with Mammon’s wishes and pulled your sweatpants down along with your boxer, and he sucked in a breath as your erection sprung out.

“You literally had this in your mouth several minutes ago,” you said.

“Well I didn’t get a good look at it then. Is… is that even gonna fit?” he asked as his eyes widened when your dick twitched.

“We can make it fit,” you replied, and he flopped onto his back again. “Are you sure you still want this?” You walked back to the bed, and it creaked as you got back on top of it.

“Y-yeah. It’s gonna hurt, ain’t it?” he asked, and you pursed your lips as his voice trembled a little.

You rubbed his thigh, swirling circles against his skin to calm him down. “I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible. Just make sure you relax, okay?”

He nodded, still a little hesitant, but the heat from your hand on his thigh eased his worries a bit. He spread his legs, and you slipped between them. You ripped open the condom packet and rolled it onto your cock. After pouring lube onto it, you poured some more on Mammon’s hole, and his body shuddered. You braced yourself on a hand as you held your dick with the other.

“I’m gonna put it in now,” you said as you looked into Mammon’s eyes, and he nodded while biting his lip, eyes trusting you fully. “Make sure you relax, babe.” After you spoke that pet name, you pressed your head against his entrance, not giving him any time to process the name that slipped past your lips.

A sharp breath left him as his eyes squeezed shut, and his body tensed when his hole stretched to accompany the size of your tip. You peppered soft kisses against his chest, and he let out short gasps when your teeth nipped at his nipples. The veins on your neck bulged as you clenched your jaw, his tight hole sucking you in and squeezing your cock hard. As you pushed in deeper, Mammon’s back arched up from the bed as he pursed his lips and trapped a choked whine from leaving his mouth. His frantic hands grabbed your tensed jaw and yanked it up to stare at his face, and you let out a surprised noise as he crashed his lips into yours.

His hungry lips danced against yours, neither of you faltering as the pace quickened and turned sloppier, and you slipped his tongue in. His hands on your jaw fell down to grasp your shoulders, and he swallowed a soft hiss that left you as he dug his fingernails into your flesh, toes curling as your tongue swiped around inside his mouth and brushed against his in a sloppy, wet mess. While you distracted him with the kiss, you took the chance to pour more lube onto your dick before you slid yourself in more until you reached halfway.

Pain flared up in your shoulders as Mammon’s nails dug at your skin, but you ignored it when you remembered how much more pain he was in compared to you. Tears spilled from his screwed-shut eyes, and your heart hurt at the sight. You started pulling yourself out of him, ready to stop there and just finger him until he came, but as you slid out of him, he wrapped his legs around your waist and locked his ankles to trap you in.

“Don’t… Don’t pull out,” he ground out, and your eyebrows creased in concern.

“But you’re hurting, Mammon. I don’t want to hurt you,” you replied, and he shook his head.

“I’ll get used to it. I-I wanna feel ya inside me. Fully inside me. I’ll tell ya to stop if it becomes too much.”

Though not fully convinced, you nodded, and he pulled you back down into another lust-filled kiss as you pushed yourself inside again. You let out a throaty groan as your pelvic bone hit against his ass, the full length of your cock nestling inside of him. Mammon mewled against you, your hot and pulsating cock a strange feeling inside of him that he loved already. You ran your hands along his sides, and you dipped your head down after pulling away from his lips to roll your tongue around his nipple. When his back arched as you nipped at his skin, your hand grabbed his free nipple and twisted it between the calloused pads of your fingertips. He cried out in pleasure, walls tensing around your cock, causing you to hiss against his skin.

“Didn’t expect you to be this sensitive,” you said as your tongue swiped over his nipple while you looked up at him, and his body twitched, soft pants escaping him.

“Shut… shut up!” An aching, drawn-out moan slipped from his lips when you pinched his nipple and nipped at the other one, and you grunted against his skin as he clenched around you.

You wanted to move so badly, but you weren’t sure he had adjusted yet, and you weren’t about to make this experience horrible for him. The two of you stayed still for a few moments, Mammon’s hole trying to get used to the foreign object of your dick inside it while you practiced patience. Your neck veins popped as you willed yourself to not move. Heavy pants pushed past your lips as you screwed your eyes shut and felt a bead of sweat drip down your forehead before it hand from the tip of your nose. Mammon watched the bead of sweat hang on for dear life before it plummeted down onto his skin, and he pursed his lips.

His entrance still burned where it took you in, but pleasure mixed with it and spread out from his hole until it coursed through his body, and he knew he needed you to move before this pleasure became unbearable. While you remained still above him, he pushed himself back against you and grunted as you slid in and out of him. The clenching of his walls and the groans leaving his mouth forced your eyes open until you looked down on him. His eyes looked down at where the two of you connected, mouth open as groans turned into soft moans, and his hands clutched the bed sheets as he pushed himself back and forth on you.

“F-fuck… You’re-you’re gonna hurt yourself, Mammon. You haven’t adjusted yet,” you told him as you fought the will to slam into him as you watched his chest heaved up and down, perky nipples standing straight in the air and begging to be touched.

“I don’t… give a… shit!” he ground out, and his body spasmed as your dick poked at a certain spot inside him. “Fuck!” he said as he shut his eyes and tightened around you until you felt ready to burst inside him. When you remained still, his eye flicked up to glare at you, and he locked his ankles behind your low back, pulling your hips towards him and pushing your dick deeper inside him. “Move.”

The thin string of reason that held you together reached its final thread before it snapped, and you wasted no time in slipping your dick out of him before thrusting it back inside him, hitting his sweet spot. His back arched as he threw his head back on your pillow, exposing his neck to you. As your dick slid in and out of him, you bent your head down towards his neck to nip at the skin around his Adam’s apple, smirking against his skin when sharp breaths left him whenever your teeth caught his skin between them.

You pulled back to admire the red blossoming against his skin around his Adam’s apple, and he covered his eyes with an arm as he noticed the proud look in your eyes that made his heart skip a beat, but he didn’t notice the feeling as pleasure replaced all the pain inside his body and built up deep inside him. Before he had come into your room, a deep itch inside him had taken his time as he tried anything he could to get it to stop, from the use of his fingers to any of the sex toys Asmodeus has given him, but only your dick seemed to reach the deep spot inside him that he desperately needed hit. His body heated up with each thrust into him until he burned beneath you and sent his warmth coursing through your body.

Your hands grabbed his waist, and you pulled him back against your cock with each thrust, and his eyes widened as you slammed into his prostate. He reached his hands out to grab at his aching cock that begged for attention, but before his fingers could wrap around his shaft, you detached a hand from his side to grab his wrists and pull his hands away from his cock. He whined as you thrusted into him, precum leaking from his slit and spilling down the side of his desperate cock as he tried to yank his wrists free.

“Uh uh uh. I didn’t say you could touch yourself,” you told him, and Mammon glared at you.

“Ya dick,” he said, and you smirked.

“Well, that’s what’s inside you right now anyways.”

He flushed and groaned as his hole stretched around your cock. His silence after your remark made you smirk at how cute he was, but at the same time, he looked so sexy as he sucked your cock up with his hungry hole.

“Are you sure you aren’t the real avatar of lust?” you asked, your eyes raking over Mammon’s appearance. Tears pricked the corners of his blue and yellow eyes, a shine coating them and making them shimmer, as saliva spilled from his open mouth that let out whines while he focused his attention on your cock sliding in and out of him. His hair stuck to his forehead as sweat coated his entire body and enhanced his lean muscles that contracted with each thrust of your cock. With your hand restricting his wrists, the redness of his face added to the fucked out look on his face, and your cock swelled inside him.

“Fuck, I’m close!” he cursed, fingers curling up as he tensed beneath you.

At those words, you switched your positions until your back rested against the bed sheets and Mammon sat on top of you. Your teeth caught your bottom lip as you looked up at him, his eyes hazy as his mouth hung open, saliva dripping from the corners as his dick twitched against his stomach. He let out a deep moan and leaned forward on top of you, resting his hands on your tense stomach as he adjusted to the new position. Your dick hit deeper inside him and reached spots he didn’t even know were possible, but he loved the feeling, especially when your cock pulsed inside him and begged for him to move.

You rested your hands on his hips to help guide him as he started off slowly, lifting his hips up before he sank back down on your shaft. He threw his head back, mouth wide open as a silent moan wracked his body, your tip pushing deep against his walls.

“It’s… so deep!” he gasped out as he lifted himself up one more time before plunging back down. His body trembled with pleasure, and you clenched your jaw as he tightened around you.

He sped his pace up as he got used to your cock hitting deeper inside, and your hands on his hips moved down to grip his ass and spread it apart. His hole sucked you in, wet sounds echoing throughout the room as he moved his ass up and down your shaft. He laid down on top of you, his chest pressing against yours, and he pressed his lips to yours as you snapped your hips up to match each drop of his hips. You swallowed his moans, your tongue swirling inside his mouth. His pace became more frantic, and you knew he was close. His body tensed, cock swelling.

“I-I can’t anymore…” he panted out, pace slowing down as fatigue took over, and you flipped your positions one more time so that he laid underneath you.

Without warning, you slammed yourself inside him, angling yourself so that your tip hit him in his prostate each thrust. His toes curled with pleasure as his body tensed underneath you, cock twitching and ready to burst. The build up of pleasure he had been experiencing threatened to spill out with each snap of your hips, and he bit his lips to hold back the long string of moans that wanted to escape.

“Don’t bite your lips. I want to hear you moan as you cum,” you said, and he obeyed at once, his teeth releasing his lips to let out staccato moans that were music to your ears.

“I’m-I’m comin'!” he said as he pushed his head back against the pillow, hands gripping the bed sheets.

“Me too,” you grunted out as your cock twitched inside him, and when he squeezed your cock, you came undone inside him with a deep grunt.

As your cum filled up the condom inside him, Mammon let out a loud, drawn-out moan before his body tensed and shook with pleasure. His back arched off of the bed, stars dotting his vision as a wave of pleasure he had never experienced before washed over him. His toes curled, hand clutching the bed sheets and eyes screwing shut as he let out a debauched cry. Your mouth hung open as you watched his body twitched underneath you, hole clenching sporadically around your sensitive cock.

“Was that a dry orgasm?” you asked as Mammon’s body stopped spasming, no cum dripping down the side of his cock or against his skin.

His dazed eyes and twitching cock told you all you needed, and you gripped his dick in one hand. Your hand jerked up and down it, feeling his veins pressing against your hand with each motion. He twitched underneath you as overstimulation wracked his body, and he whined.

“N-no more. I can’t take anymore,” he said.

“Just a little more, baby. You need to let it out,” you told him, and he mewled when the nail of your thumb hit his slit.

When his cock swelled in your hand, you tightened your grip on his cock and slid your hand up and down faster until his body jerked and a string of hot cum shot out of his tip. His cum splattered against his chest, and his hole squeezed you, and you groaned as you realized your oversensitive dick still settled deep inside him.

You rolled off Mammon as you pulled out of him and plopped onto the bed beside him. Heavy pants left him as he tried to return his breathing to normal while he calmed down from his high. Once his breathing returned to normal, you rolled onto your side and propped your head up on your hand to look at him. He flickered his eyes up towards you, and you licked your lips, your dick still pounding.

“Let’s go for another round,” you said and gave him puppy eyes that he looked away from to not get suckered in.

“But what about the other movies we didn’t- Ahhh!” Mammon didn’t get to finish his words as you pounced on him and peppered his body with kisses. As his soft gasps met your ears with each butterfly kiss, you realized something.

The rest of the movies would have to wait until another day.

#shall we date mammon #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #male reader #smut #shall we date #obey me #shall we date fanfiction #obey me fanfic #oneshot

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tpwkjerii · 3 years

Text

as you wish | 1

your one true love was lost in a pirate attack five years ago, and now you’re engaged to a cruel prince. with all your misfortune, you didn’t expect three unconventional thugs and a painfully familiar pirate to save you from a dreadful future. (inspired by The Princess Bride)

pairing: pirate!seokjin x princess!reader

warnings: fluff and angst, reader is forced into engagement and becoming a princess, death (no main character), kidnapping, choking (nonsexual), mentions of murder

genre: fairy tale/pirate au, semi established relationship au

word count: 1.5k+

a/n: first (and def not the last) seokjin fic!! loosely inspired by The Princess Bride, but doesn’t totally follow the plot! jin isn’t in this first part much but he will be a lot in the rest ;)) this part is on the shorter side but the rest will be longer!

next | m.list

There was once a time where your life was wonderfully simple, and with blissful simplicity came peace and harmony.

Before your father fell ill and passed away, you spent most of your days on the family farm. Every morning followed the same routine: wake up, get ready, prepare breakfast, and summon Seokjin for work. You remember Seokjin with a fond smile; he was your farm boy and, if you were being completely honest, the only man you ever truly loved.

In the beginning, you and Seokjin had a very average relationship. You were merely the daughter of his employer, and he was just the farm boy your father hired since he needed more help after your mother passed away. During the first few weeks, you hardly saw Seokjin as you favored spending your time alone in your room while you mourned the loss of your mother.

However, when the months grew warmer, you found yourself spending more and more time outside. You easily gravitated towards Seokjin, who had a smile that brightened everything within a ten mile radius and told jokes that always lifted your spirits. You and Seokjin quickly fell into a comfortable routine and dynamic together. Whenever you called him, he was there, and he did whatever you needed, whether that was fetching the bread to providing a shoulder to cry on, with a smile and three words in response: “As you wish.”

Now, as you sat in your new room in the country’s castle, you realized you would do anything to hear Seokjin’s “as you wish” just once again. Unfortunately, that was impossible.

Seokjin died two years ago in a pirating accident. What was supposed to be a simple visit to his parents across the sea ended with the loss of his life and all others on the ship. The news hit you heavily, and once again you found yourself holed in your room; although this time there was no Seokjin to lift your spirits and make everything feel alright again.

You still remember the last conversation you shared with him, and how he told you that he would return with “a gift that would make you happy for years to come.” That very conversation was when you discovered he loved you, and was also when you first told him that you loved him.

Unfortunately, you didn’t expect that the first time you told him “I love you” would also be the last.

You wondered how different your life would be if Seokjin hadn’t boarded the ship that day. Would he live with you on the farm? Would you have moved overseas to stay with his parents? There were several potential scenarios, but you knew one thing was sure: if Seokjin was still with you, there was no way you would be trapped in this suffocating castle like you were now.

You sighed as the maids knocked on your door for the third time.

“Princess Y/N, please let us in. The ceremony is to start soon and the King is awaiting your arrival,” they pleaded, and you willed your anger away as you knew that the maids were only trying to do their job and your reluctance would only get them in trouble.

With a sigh, you stood from your seat by the window and moved to unlock the large doors. Instantly, the maids darted in, pushing you into the chair in front of the vanity and attacking your face and hair with brushes and creams.

You remained silent as they worked, still unaccustomed to your sudden lifestyle change. Your quaint home and expansive farm turned into a stone castle with guards on every corner and maids ready to cater to your every need. These days, all you wished for was time alone, and the only time you really had that was when you went for a ride on your horse.

After a dreadful announcement ceremony where you stood before the people as their new princess and soon-to-be queen like a doll for sale, you rushed out of your formal gown into a much simpler dress more suited for riding. Without even saying a word to Prince Donghae, the man who forced you into your current arrangement, you ran out of the castle to the stables.

In lightning speed, you unchained your faithful horse and hopped on top of her. Admiring the beautiful sheen of her smooth black coat, you lightly kicked her side, a gesture to take off. Luna, your horse, took you along your usual course along the river at the edge of the kingdom. The serenity at the outskirts of the kingdom reminded you of your days at the farm, and the quiet allowed you to ignore reality and reminisce the past.

You felt the wind in your hair as you rode through the woods and wished that you felt this free every day. Ever since you arrived at the castle three weeks ago, your days were often occupied with various unenjoyable tasks. As someone who grew up on a farm, you were very much out of your league at the palace, and the court royals made sure to remind you of that every chance they could.

“How can the future Queen of this kingdom be this stupid?” they would mock you and force loud laughter out of their throats. You knew you weren’t unintelligent just because you didn’t know the rules of court (since you didn’t grow up in it like many of the others), but you bit your tongue back each time they ridiculed you — the commanding presence of the Prince always held you back from defending yourself.

Prince Donghae was not a kind ruler. Those rumors you heard around your small village were confirmed when he almost killed you the first night you arrived at the castle.

“Anything you do out of line embarrasses me,” Prince Donghae told you the first night you arrived after you caused a scene while being escorted to your new room. “You will not talk back in this castle, do you understand me?” he asked, his voice deep and threatening.

You had no choice but to agree as his grip around your throat tightened. You nodded frantically as you choked for air, your eyes tearing and your hands shaking on top of his. He smirked in satisfaction at your struggle and dropped you to the ground before walking away, leaving your struggling body alone on the cold stone floors.

Ever since that day, you did your best to avoid the Prince. You attended court when needed, putting up with the officials’ relentless bullying, and spent the rest of your time in your room or outside riding. Now more than ever, you wish Seokjin was here to comfort you.

Luna slowed as you reached the river, her pace slowing to a light tread along the banks of the large river. You admired the scenery; a few flowers were beginning to bloom and the river waters were crashing gently along the bank. Everything looked like it did yesterday, except for the small ship and three men that were just ahead of you.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as one of them gestured for you as if he knew you personally. Considering that you didn’t know many people, and that his face was completely new to you, you doubted that was the situation at hand. Your horse slowed down as you neared them, allowing you to get a good look at the three men.

They all looked young, potentially around your age or even younger, and were dressed like commoners. One of them had black hair that fell messily against his forehead and ended just on top of his eyes. He had strong and sharp facial features that you’d never seen before. The man standing next to him was equally beautiful; his bright red hair contrasted beautifully against his tan skin and drew attention to his pink lips and fox-like eyes. The last man matched the other twos’ beauty — he had blond hair that accentuated his sweet eyes and plump lips.

“Do you need assistance?” you asked as you finally reached the three men, hopping off your horse

The blond one stepped forward first, a thankful grin on his face. “We are poor, but lost performers. Is there a village near here?”

You frowned and shook your head apologetically. “No, I’m afraid that there’s nothing nearby for at least a mile.”

His grin quickly flipped from friendly and grateful to sly and sinister. “Then there will be no one nearby to hear you scream,” he stated, nodding to the dark-haired man next to him.

Your face dropped in confusion, and you were barely able to scream before the dark-haired man pulled you off your horse and into his strong arms. He covered your mouth with one hand and used the other to touch a spot on your neck. You instantly felt yourself lose consciousness; the world grew dark as your eyes slowly closed, and the last thing you heard was the cry of your horse as it trotted away.

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kinktae · 4 years

Text

bitchin’ || pt. 9 (M)

↳ PART OF MY REWIND SERIES

The 80s were a time of choices. Which perm was right for you? What color neon would you wear next? None of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jeon Jungkook.

pairing: fratboy!jungkook x reader

word count: 4.7k

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l

warnings: fanservice. that's it. that’s the tweet.

A/N: This fic was inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before. Thank you to @junqkook for letting me use her likeness!

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

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PART NINE

"Okay, just sign your name here, and she'll come to get you when she's ready." The cheery girl at the front desk told you.

You offered her a polite smile, walking over to the sit in the waiting room.

You always disliked these chairs. We were willing to bet money that these chairs have sat in this very room since your university first opened, worn out, uncomfortable, and outdated. Sure, maybe you had been in a bit of a sour mood lately – what with your fake ex-boyfriend dirty dicking you and all – but as you sat there, metal rod poking your spin, you couldn't help but frown.

As you sat there contemplating your school's renovation budget, you hardly noticed the sound of another student walking in and over to the front desk, your stomach churning as you put a face to those loose curls.

"Hey, stranger! What are you doing here?" Kiri's white teeth blinded you, walking over to you once her business with the receptionist was done.

You could feel one of your eyebrows twitch in irritation, swallowing down your scoff as she sat next to you.

"Trying to schedule my class next semester." You responded uninterestedly, contemplating whether or not the suspension from decking Kiri in the face would be worth it.

"Oh, just picking up a termination form. One of our newbies wants to pull out of Kappa Alpha Tau."

Shocker...

"Hey, so sorry to hear things with Jungkook and you didn't work out, by the way." Kiri flashed you a sympathetic look.

An audible breath left your lips, disbelief no doubt visible on your every feature. Did Kiri seriously think you didn't know it was her who home wrecked? Or was she just that much of a raging bitch?

"If you ever need someone to, like, talk to, just know that I'm here. I totally know what you're going through."

Your hands found themselves curling into tight balls in an attempt to keep your hands from shaking. Kiri looked as cool as a cucumber in front of you, perfectly composed, not a single hair out of place.

Then it hit you.

Of course. It all made perfect sense now.

From the moment she came up to you at your event offering her condolences, she had been trying to drive you off from Jungkook. She was planting seeds of doubt about their break up and his character. Manipulation and intimidation were her cards, and she played them well.

Fine. If the rules were being bent, you might as well disregard them altogether. You relaxed your hands.

"Oh, no worries. It's all good, I mean, it's not like we were actually dating." You shrugged.

Rule #2: No one can know the truth.

"What?" Kiri blinked, her smile faltering for just a moment.

You edged closer to her, cocking your head in mock surprise.

"Oh... did you not know that? That our entire relationship was contractual?"

"What are you talking about?" Her full brows furrowing.

You let out a sigh, "Yeah, so, basically, Jungkook would get his frat to fund my event if I helped make you jealous so that you'd come crawling back to him."

The polite mask that Kiri had plastered on finally cracked, her next words clipped and curt.

"What the hell is your damage, Y/N? Do you think I'm some sort of idiot how'd fall for that?"

"Good grief, did Jungkook not tell you? Weird, I feel like that's something he'd need to tell his girlfriend." You puffed out your bottom lip in mock sympathy.

Whatever resolve Kiri had built up crumbled at the way you held her stare, a note of honesty in your voice that she couldn't shake.

"I'm..." She cleared her throat, turning her nose up. "We're not actually back together yet."

"No? Really? Hmm..."

The call of your name crossed the room, and the two of you turned to look at the receptionist, ushering you over with the news that your counselor was ready for you.

You turned to Kiri with a smile, "Guess he didn't want you back as so much as he just wanted back in your pants."

Kiri looked utterly stunned, eyes wide as you stood from your seat, for once, without a clue as to what to say.

"See ya around, Kiri. Let's do lunch sometime. Oh and, happy holidays!" You fluttered your fingers at her, slipping away from her with a smugness you couldn't be assed to hide.

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"Wait... he called you?!" Taehyung laughed, eyes wide.

Yara nodded, scouring through the shelves, a specific book in mind. Belinda Carlisle was playing softly overhead and Yara found herself humming along.

As the holidays rolled around and everyone found themselves back in their hometowns, Yara was surprised to find Jungkook's frat brother browsing through the jam aisle in her local supermarket. As luck would have it, Jungkook's genetically blessed frat brother was from her hometown, the two somehow never crossing paths until now.

What started as a polite catchup over coffee, quickly turned into an everyday thing, the two of them realizing they had more in common than friend drama.

"He did!" Yara enthused. "He left a voicemail apologizing and rambled about how he wanted Y/N's address so he could go apologize, blah, blah, blah."

"That idiot." Taehyung rolled his eyes. He watched as she let out a noise of excitement, looking over her shoulder to announce that she had found the book she was in search of. He grinned in response.

"Anyway, I didn't call back. Because that's exactly how she wants to spend Christmas morning, with that jockstrap knocking at her door, right?"

Taehyung snorted, bringing the straw of his drink to his mouth.

"Miriam is gonna have your head on a stick Lord of the Flies style if she catches you with that drink in her library." Yara warned, to which Taehyung dismissed with a wave of a hand.

Yara was a funny girl; he was pleasantly surprised to bump into her during winter break. He could tell something was off when they first ran into each other, so he invited her out to grab some coffee. It was over a warm cup of coffee – with the most absurd amount of sugar he had ever seen – that she finally shared with him all that had been weighing on her mind lately.

Sure there was the Jungkook and Y/N stuff. Yara was beyond homicidal. Taehyung was grateful for winter break as he was positive she would have rung out Jungkook's neck had she seen him after what had happened. Taehyung himself was astounded to find out what exactly was true nature of the two's relationship, curtesy of Yara, of course. Even if it was fake, however, he knew Jungkook enough to know that the happiness he gave off once Y/N entered his life wasn't.

But more than that, the petite girl was worried about a boy, an irritating one who Taehyung happened to be frat brothers with. Eunwoo had approached her immediately after Kiri left him, spewing some excuse about only dating Kiri because he couldn't get Yara out of his mind.

It was bullshit if you asked Taehyung. But he hadn't the heart to tell Yara that, especially with the way she looked so torn up about it – unsure of how to respond to Eunwoo. He wasn't entirely sure what their relationship was like, but he figured it must have meant enough to her to have her feeling this conflicted.

So he did his best to cheer her up, inviting her for lunch and driving her to their local library, which he had come to find out was her favorite place growing up. They spent many afternoons sprawled out on the couches in the now abandoned children's section of the library... or at least until the crabby librarian yelled at them to leave.

If Taehyung was honest, he didn't care much for literature – he was a math guy – but the way Yara would shove a book into his chest with wide eyes and an 'if you don't read this and tell me your thoughts on it, I'll literally die,' seemed reason enough to keep showing up day after day.

"Have you talked to her about Eunwoo, yet?"

Yara flinched at the blond man's words.

"Why don't we ever talk about normal people stuff? Like the weather, or what sports team played last night."

"Yara..."

"Oooh!" She exclaimed suddenly, "I know, let's talk about President Reagan. Did you hear his speech about tearing down the wall in Germany? Crazy stuff–"

"Dude, why are you so scared to tell her about Eunwoo? You told me." Taehyung interrupted, quirking up a brow. Yara held his eyes for a moment before sighing.

"I just don't want to bring it up to Y/N, you know? She has enough going on..."

"So? She's your best friend. She'll want to help."

"Exactly! She's going to want to comfort me and make me feel better – which will just make me feel worse." Yara groaned, leaning back against the bookshelf.

"I'm... not following." The frat boy admitted.

Surely girls aren't usually this hard to understand.

"Look, I know you'd only known me for a little while, but let me pencil you in. I have a reputation, okay? Yara doesn't get hung up on some dumb boy." Yara wagged her finger at him.

"Does Yara usually talk about herself in the third person?" Taehyung chuckled.

"Yara," she continued, paying the boy no mind, "is an independent woman who likes one night stands and sex without strings. She doesn't like clingy boys getting into her head and confusing her."

Taehyung nodded, "So basically, Yara is scared of catching feelings."

"Shh! Don't tell Yara about what Yara doesn't want to hear." She turned her nose up at him, pushing herself back off the stand to march away from him. Taehyung reached for her arm without hesitation, stopping her departure with a sigh.

"Look, I don't mean to be on your ass about this, but clearly, you feel something for this kid. Otherwise, you wouldn't be spending all your time pining over him."

Taehyung immediately wished he could take back those words as an offended look fell across the petite girl's face, her hands falling onto her hips, clearly displeased.

"Pining? You think I'm pining over Eunwoo?"

Taehyung shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to navigate this situation. As much as he liked Yara, she did spark a healthy dose of fear into him.

"Well... I mean... you're spending your whole break with me just because I can give you a ride to the library so you can read sad romance novels and cry."

"First of all," Yara began, "I happen to enjoy your company. You're a good listener and, frankly, very nice to look at."

Surprise fell over Taehyung, "Nice to look at?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't know." She waved him off, "Secondly, I've never cried. I've let out a sniffle at most."

"Fine, so you're not pining over him. Just get back together with him." He responded.

"I can't."

Taehyung frowned, "Then turn him down."

"I can't do that either." She frowned right back.

"Dude."

"I'm scared, okay!" She whined, thumping a foot against the library's carpeted floor.

"Of what? What's holding you back from going back to Eunwoo?"

"...He told me he loves me."

"And?"

"And I don't even know what that means!" Yara threw her hands up in exasperation, the sleeve of her swear falling down her forearms. "I don't know how to love him back or be a good girlfriend – which I know is what he wants from me."

"Yara, I hope you don't feel like you don't owe Eunwoo anything. Because you don't." Taehyung grew serious, which only caused the torn girl to pout.

"I know, I just... I mean, I don't hate him. But it's scary. Whenever I'm dating someone, I get all up in my head like... Am I supposed to be this someone's person? Possibly forever? What the fuck!"

"No, I get it. It's a lot of pressure." He shrugged powerlessly.

"Exactly! I don't want to have to try and love someone. I want to do it. Like... not to sound like a sappy idiot but sometimes I think about all those stories I read," she gestured towards the books beside her, "about feeling a spark when you kiss your person and just... I dunno. Would be fucking nice, instead of this complicated bullshit."

Yara was far from a hopeless romantic. As much as she loved to read about romance, she had an innate urge to flee the moment the word love came around. Still, she could appreciate the idea of it.

"So then forget about that stuff. Forget about labels and expectations. Just be with whoever you want to be with. Have fun, worry about the heavy shit later."

Taehyung had a very soothing effect whenever he spoke. His tone was low and lovely, and despite the way Yara's head was still running a mile a minute, she appreciated the boy's docile nature. Certainly made her feel a whole lot less anxious.

"I want to. That's how this whole thing with Eunwoo started, ya know?" She admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "But all men are the same. They say they're fine with keeping it casual, but they always end up falling for me, which, duh, understandable..."

The blond boy let out an airy snicker, a direct challenge to Yara's words.

"Something funny, Tae?" She pressed.

"C'mon, that's not true." He rolled his eyes breezily.

"Oh, yeah? Tell that to my four ex-partners who are all still in love with me."

"Maybe you just haven't met the one. You know... your knight-in-no-strings-attached-armor."

"I'm telling you, no such guy exists." Yara emphasized with a poke into Taehyung chest.

He grabbed the jabby finger reflexively, his long fingers wrapping around the small digit, setting his drink on the nearest shelf.

"Yara."

"Seriously, I've done my research! You're looking at a hot commodity, buddy. I may be a raging homebody, but I am very efficient—"

Suddenly, the petite was trapped against the bookshelf with Taehyung hovering over her, a large hand on either side of her head.

"Please stop talking."

Yara's cheeks flushed in surprise as she met the handsome boy's warm eyes, growing even hotter as he leaned over and pressed his mouth against hers.

He smelled distinctly of vanilla, and it sent her stomach fluttering, reeling in the way he gripped her waist, pulling him into her. She would've lost herself in the feeling of his soft lips moving against hers if it weren't for a cough ringing out from somewhere in the library.

Yara broke the kiss short, ears red as she brought her hands to wrap around her torso defensively, trying her hardest to ignore the way her heart was pounding against her chest as if trying to escape.

"You kissed me!" She scoffed, trying her hardest to seem unaffected. Taehyung shrugged.

"You kissed me back."

Oh god, this was bad. She felt all light and giddy tucked away in this corner of the library, the gorgeous tall man still close in proximity, looking at her through a smirk.

"Yes, well... I'm a very go with the flow kind of gal." She defended, brows furrowed adorably.

"Relax, Yara."

"Well, what the hell was that precisely?! Do you just make out with all your library buddies? Is there some sort of library buddy étiquette I'm not aware of?"

"I kissed you because I wanted to. Kissing is fun." He shrugged. "Some guys just want that, you know."

Son of a bitch.

"You got balls, Goldilocks. Understood. Message received, loud and clear." Yara acknowledged through narrowed eyes.

"Happy I could help, bookworm."

A corner of her mouth turned upwards, admittedly amused.

"Just so we're on the same page... you're not in love with me? You just smooched me for fun?" She looked at him skeptically.

"Sorry you had to find out this way." Taehyung joked, earning him an eye roll.

"And you don't have some ex-lover you need to make jealous?"

At those words, the frat boy laughed heartily, head shaking a firm no.

"Wicked."

Yara hopped onto the balls of her feet, hoping to catch the blond's kiss once more when her mouth met the hardcover of a book instead. She sank back down with an annoyed huff; Taehyung had pulled a book from the nearest self in reach, holding it up between them to pause the eager girl's ministrations.

Poking his head out from behind the book cheekily, he flashed her a lopsided grin.

"Easy there, tiger. What about Eunwoo?"

Yara held his eyes for a moment, wondering how she hadn't noticed what a pretty brown they were until now. She let out an appreciative hum.

"What about him?" She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk on her lips that had Taehyung leaning back over to meet it with one of his own.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me." You greeted him with a cautious smile as he slipped into the chair across from you.

You were nervous, to say the least, watching the tall man shift in his seat, trying to grow comfortable despite the uncomfortable circumstances.

"This place is disorienting." Erik scanned the mall cafeteria before flashing you a charming smile. "Thought you'd get tired of waiting and head back home. I apologize for my tardiness."

"No worries. I still don't know my way around at the mall, and I've been home for weeks." You grinned back.

A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two ex-lovers, each taking a moment to consider the other. Erik looked a lot older than he did in high school; he had on a brand new pair of glasses that suited him far better than the ones you remembered did. His hair was combed and styled smartly so that they would stay out of his eyes. A stark contrast from the long-haired boy you had come to know these past few months.

Dammit. Your eyes fell onto the red table between you two, cheeks growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jungkook, even with your ex-fiance sitting across from you.

Erik's voice rang out, "I'll be honest. I wasn't expecting you to call me."

"I wasn't expecting me to either." You confessed, your hands intertwining on the tabletop.

Really, you didn't have much reason to be nervous. I mean, it was Erik. Despite the end of your relationship, there was no bad blood between you two. It wasn't the first time seeing him since the breakup either... maybe it was why you had called him that had you so on edge.

You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from Erik. Company? A distraction? Maybe what you were asking of him was unfair, but as he placed a hand over yours reassuringly, you found the wall you had set up crumbling down.

"I can help you, but you need to talk to me, Y/N. If I could read minds, I would be a much richer man." His brown eyes rolled dramatically.

You chuckled. Same dry wit you remembered.

"I met someone."

"Is that what you wanted to tell me? Y/N, you're allowed to date other people. I understand your hesitation, but really, it is time you moved on–"

You let out a scoff, yanking your hand away from the now laughing man. You flashed him a feigned look of irritation, silently grateful for the change of pace in conversation, finding it much easier to talk when things weren't so tense.

"God, you are still just as full of yourself as I remembered." You teased.

Erik shrugged, "Not to sound like a cocky asshole, but is it not warranted?"

You let that question run through your mind. You suppose if anyone had reason to have a big head, it would be Erik. Intelligent, handsome, hard-working– everything a mother would want their daughter to have.

"It is. You've always been perfect..." You mused, a hint of sadness in your tone that Erik picked up quickly.

And all at once, his entire demeanor changed, a serious expression settling behind those frames of his.

"Tell me about him." He instructed calmly.

And so you did— the beginning, the end, and all the beautiful bits in between. You told him about a boy that challenged you in ways you never imagined– a boy who made you feel like the sun. You spoke of every stupid conversation you once thought of as meaningless but now weighed heavily on your heart and mind.

You were mad at him, of course. There was a reason you had been ignoring his calls and ordered Yara to keep him in the dark of your whereabouts, after all. But the more you talked about him, the more you lit up. Erik noticed it too. How could he not? It was that very way you spoke with an uncontainable passion that made him fall in love with you in the first place.

He watched with utmost concentration for the vocal inflections of your words, the slight movement of your brows that always seemed to speak your mind before you did.

It was clear to him that this boy wasn't just a boy. He could hear in the choice of words you used, words that were static and void of variables. But there were certain words you seemed to dance around he realized as you came to the end of the story... words that were evident to all but you.

"So... Analysis?" You breathed out, chest deflating as you took in Erik's frown.

"Above all... did you find out if he used protection? I don't want to presume anything about... was her name Kiri?" Erik paused, continuing once you nodded back at him, "but your health should be your number one concern."

"I had a friend of his ask him on my behalf. He says he used protection... I went ahead and got tested anyway, though, and I'm all good thankfully." You told him.

Whether or not Jungkook had passed along some sort of STI was heavy on your mind the next morning after you kicked him out. Thankfully, Taehyung was more than happy to get the answer you need but were still too damn pissed off to seek out yourself.

"Good." Erik sunk back into his seat, a hand coming up to run through his hair as he considered his next words. You suppose you were grateful to be able to talk to Erik like this still. Sure, he was blunt and sometimes stared at you like you were some case-study, but he didn't bat an eye of judgment at the news of the contract, for which you were grateful. He had known you for too long to find it peculiar that you'd pretend to be someone's girlfriend in exchange for furthering and fulfilling your passion project.

If anything, that was precisely in line with your character. He liked to think he instilled some of those traits into you.

"Well, frankly, I am sorry to hear this happened to you. You're a great girl; you deserve better than that."

Your neck warmed at Erik's words, slightly taken aback.

"Oh, um... thanks, that means a lot coming from you." You expressed your gratitude shyly.

Erik nodded back at you, "Seriously. It was very shitty of him to string you along for so long and for sleeping with Kiri despite knowing how you felt."

"Oh."

"Oh?" He frowned, not expecting your response.

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably, pausing to watch a woman with a stroller walk past your table.

"Well..." you cleared your throat, "I'm not actually sure that he knows that I, um, like him... like that."

God, this was mortifying. The first time you had admitted you liked Jungkook and it was to your ex-fiancé? Sometimes you swear you were the protagonist in a mediocre rom-com film and no one was telling you.

Erik paused, "I see. And does he know now?"

"...No."

"I see." He sat up, fingers tapping against the table in interest. He quirked up a brow at you. "Perhaps it wasn't just him who was dishonest."

You scrunched your nose at him, not liking what you were hearing. It wasn't anything that hadn't already kept you up, tossing and turning in bed at 2 AM, of course. You had a feeling this was where this conversation would lead to. Erik, as genius as he was, was fairly predictable in this sense. Rational, dependable... nothing like the spontaneous boy you had fallen for.

"So? Even if he knew, what would that change? He slept with her..." You grumbled stubbornly.

"And maybe he wouldn't have if he had known."

You crossed your arms, "You don't know that."

"You're right. I don't. I don't even know the guy. But you do." He continued, offering you a suggestive look.

Huh. Did you think that would have stopped Jungkook? And even so, would that fact alone be enough to get you to forgive him?

"I... I don't know." Was your conclusion, pulling a hum from Erik.

"Guess the only way to know would be to discuss it with the meathead himself."

"I just... I don't want to get my heart broken again. I, quite literally, didn't sign up for this." You placed your face into your hands, hating how rational Erik had to be.

"My guess? He didn't either. It seems as if you both got more than you bargained for." He shrugged.

"He's definitely not at all what I was expecting..." You trailed off glumly.

When you first met Jungkook, he was obnoxious, cocksure, and grotesquely unbothered. You swore you had never hated anyone more on the first meet. But as you came to know him, you found in him a lot of what you wished you found in yourself. Approachable, flexible, spontaneous...

You just wished it all didn't have to hurt so bad.

"You and I are a lot alike, you know." Erik spoke up once he noticed you fall silent. " And I only realized this recently, but I think that was our downfall. When I asked you to marry me, what I was asking of you... Well, it was unfair. Because I know I would never accept that if I were in your shoes."

Your head shot up at his words, hands quick to wave at him dismissively. Asking him to meet you here was not to discuss what had gone wrong in your relationship, and you didn't want him to think that it was.

"Erik, that's okay you don't have to—"

"No, no, what I mean is... we made perfect sense together and it didn't work out in the end. This meathead of yours is nothing like you and maybe it's for the better. You said it yourself that he makes you feel important and formidable." He pressed on.

"Are you trying to imply the notion of opposites attract? Because I personally believe that's a myth and that we're drawn to those similar to us—"

"Puzzle pieces."

"Wha— Huh?" You blinked, blind-sighted by the calm man's sudden words.

Suddenly, Erik readjusted in his seat, leaning in close as he nodded his head.

"Think of life as one big puzzle, and everyone you meet is shaped differently, right? Yet somehow... they fit. We find those that complete us. And they're not necessarily opposites but—"

"But different pieces in the puzzle." You sighed, understanding the metaphor.

You raised a brow at the intellectual man, "That was uncharacteristically poetic of you. I thought you were a man of science... since when do you rely on literary devices to get your point across?"

Erik let out a dramatic sigh, fingertips pressed to the rip of his glasses, leaning back into his seat as if showing his greatness.

"I'm a growing man, Y/N. Science helps you understand the mind and the body, but as far as the heart goes... there's only so much it can tell us." He tutted wisely with a wag of his pointer finger.

"Wow. I dig this character development. I quite like this new you."

"Wanna get married now?" He deadpanned suddenly, a laugh ripping out of you at his unexpected words.

Erik grinned at the familiar sound, also finding the humor within his joke. He was pleased to see that if anything, he could at least momentarily take your mind off of your heart's turmoil.

"Ask me again in another three years." You rolled your eyes, grinning wide, to which Erik threatened that if Jungkook didn't by then, then he just might.

4K notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 3 years

Note

yuri with yandere prompt number eight? i feel like thats the most accurate for him

This ask is old but I’m never gonna quit these yandere prompts. Try and stop me. (aka, here’s 5k of unhealthy pining and Yuri “I want to confess my love but I don’t feel like I deserve you” Leclerc)

A sharp, frightened gasp was what pulled you awake. Terror gripped your thoughts as a memory overrode all rational thought —the scent of tread packed filth and chalky, tangy, sharp stone filling your nose with each shallow, bloody, gasping breath. Cold, cutting gravel scraping against your cheek, your scalp, the sharp pebbles embedded into your skin with the force with which you had hit the ground. You couldn’t move, couldn’t fight your collapsed chest into expanding for air to fill your lungs. Escape, you had to escape, that was the only real, solid understanding in your dazed brain as you struggled against the blankets.

But then you blinked a few times, your eyes rolling as you focused them, and realized that was nothing more than a dream. You were safe. Sore, uncomfortable, in an unfamiliar bed and wearing unfamiliar clothes, but safe. And confused, still entangled in the cotton fog of unconsciousness.

You had been… Where had you been? Your head was foggy, your thoughts blurry, almost enough to convince you that you were dreaming. If only you weren’t so uncomfortable. Something was wrong, more than just being sick. There had been… Blood? Pain?

Agony. A blunt, overwhelming ache that had slammed against the entire right side of your body when you hit the ground. A whine had escaped your mouth alongside a glob of bloody saliva. The pain was all-consuming. You could remember that in the same second the pain registered so did the panic of knowing that you were going to be sick right there on the street. Nausea had seized your stomach and you had been helpless to its violent, urgent, undulating undertow. Rocks cut into your palms as you wrenched yourself up to avoid choking as you sputtered and heaved and coughed out the acidic bile. When you blinked, your sight clearing from a dozen fragmented frames into a single dizzy, tear-blurred picture, all you saw was blood. Blood in the watery puddle on the ground, scarlet staining your side, oozing up between your fingers as you pressed a panicked hand against the slash across your ribs as if that would force the blood back where it belonged.

But there was no blood now. No wounds to validate that terrible living nightmare.

Everything came flooding back into your mind as your thoughts cleared up. You remembered accepting Lev’s offer to ignore Yuri’s orders and perform a secretive strike on an opposing gang. You remembered going along with the plan and taking the dangerous role of getting everyone into the Vanargand base despite the risk. You remembered nearly died in the escape.

You remembered thinking that you were dead. In that moment of laying on the street in a puddle of your own blood, you had clung to the pathetic thought that you didn’t want to die. Even though you already had, you didn’t want to betray Yuri in this way, too. He didn’t want you involved in any of this, he did everything he could to keep you out of it. He promised your brother, he made a vow. But even that tragic, horrible thought had become cloudy as cold disseminated ice throughout your body, piercing all the way into the marrow of your bones and numbing your limbs, pulling you closer into the creeping void. That was the last of what you could remember.

Now, the only remaining evidence of your brush with death was the bruised shades of puce plum and rotten currant covering the entire right side of your body. Someone had used white magic to heal the direst of your wounds. Presumably, the same someone who had saved you. You were pretty sure you knew exactly who that someone was, too.

Your hero.

Yuri Leclerc with his violet eyes and smiling mouth and sweeping, dramatic cape who came to you after your brother’s death and told you of the promise he’d made as his boss and friend. Yuri Leclerc, the nearly mythical Underground Lord, the unaging Savage Mockingbird. Your hero, your knight in armor of shadow and subterfuge. He promised that he would protect you. And he had saved you. Again.

With a soft groan, you turned from laying on your back to your mostly uninjured left side. The bed was comfortable enough, better than your own. The room was smaller than yours, however, easily lit up by just a single lamp. By all standards, it was far from lavish, but you were covered in a thick comforter with two pillows plumped beneath your head. The four-poster frame was made of an attractively dark solid wood that matched the bedside table, writing desk, and chair. It looked an awful lot like the impersonal room of an inn, although there were clear signs that someone lived in here. Books and paper and feather pens were stacked on the desk, a glass rainbow of bottles lined up on the shelf above, a colorful swath of clothes on the rack.

Most telling was the way that the room, the bedding, and the clothes you wore all smelled like Yuri. An intoxicating embrace of spring rose and lilac, plush amber musk, and heady sweet vanilla. Achingly familiar, desirable, wonderful. Now it just made you sick. While the previous day’s actions could make a case for your intellectual deficiencies, it didn’t take a genius to figure out where you were. You groaned softly, closing your eyes.

Yuri was going to be mad. You had justified following Lev before by telling yourself that if the job went off without a hitch, Yuri would be so impressed with your skills that he would have no choice but to recognize you as a member of his gang and stop coddling you. Now you realized that it was and always had been an act of petty rebellion. Yuri would never respect your reckless disregard for his orders and your own life, not even if it had gone well.

Which it hadn’t. You had no idea what had gone wrong, you had performed your task without any problems, getting the small group of men into the compound without alerting any guards. Your brother had done well in teaching you to sneak around. But then there was complete and utter chaos and they all came running back as the compound was eaten up by flames, your so-called friends leaving you stranded on the top of the wall with a group of Vanargand men. So you jumped.

Even your vague recall of that particular agony made you wince, your stomach churning unhappily.

The sound of someone outside the door made your heart jump, your eyes instinctually closing to feign sleep. Maybe if you seemed like you were sleeping you could spare yourself a lecture. Or worse, his disappointment. The doorknob turned, the wood creaking, the metal hinges making the faintest squeak as they were pushed. You held your breath.

But nobody came in, stopping in response to the approaching sound of another, heavier set of footsteps. “Glad to see you back in one piece,” Yuri greeted whoever it was. With the door cracked the way it was, you could hear him quite clearly. His voice was friendly, matching the smile he must have been wearing, but it was sharp, too. You knew that tone, recognized the danger it hid. “I figured it would be you who led this little rebellion.”

“Rebellion?” Lev asked. “I acted for all of us. The Vanargand boys won’t be an issue anymore.”

Yuri laughed. Although the sound was oddly genuine, nobody could miss the fact that he was making fun of Lev. “You really believe that?” he asked, his voice lilting with disbelief.

Lev grunted, you could imagine his scowl. He scowled a lot. “If you knew what we did to them, you wouldn’t laugh.”

“All you did was kick the hornet’s nest,” Yuri said, unimpressed, “while ignoring my orders to standby.”

“I came here to tell you that I think things should change around here, I think-”

“I don’t actually care what you think,” Yuri said, cutting him off calmly. His tone was deadly smooth, dripping with the unique threat of his friendly malice. “I expect you to be out of here by the time the sun rises. That gives you, what, four hours? Plenty of time.”

“What?” Lev asked, his bravado faltering.

“Leave my city,” Yuri told him. “And pray that I never see you again.”

“You can’t kick me out,” Lev said. “Not after all I’ve done for you, for the gang.”

“No?” Yuri asked. “You directly disobeyed my orders and put my men at risk for the sake of your own ego. I’d say that’s a pretty good reason to lose any and all trust I ever had in you.”

“The Vanargand Street Gang have been a pain in the ass for too long,” Lev told him, his tone growing combative. “I decided to do something about it.”

“I had them under control,” Yuri said. “without stooping to such boorish and dangerous methods.”

Lev responded with a mocking bark of a laugh. “Nah, this is about the girl, isn’t it? You should know that she all but begged me to take her along. If you wanna talk about trust, maybe consider why your precious little pet would disobey you.”

You froze, a cold, nervous sweat beading up at the nape of your neck, anxious nausea once again closing in your throat. Either unfortunately or fortunately, Yuri breezed right past that comment as if it didn’t affect him in the slightest. “This has nothing to do with her,” Yuri said without missing a beat. “If you don’t think I’m a fit leader, challenge my authority directly. But I’m warning you. Think carefully about what you do next. Right now, I’m relieved enough that nobody was seriously hurt by your incompetence that I’m willing to let you go with nothing more than a warning.” His voice lowered dangerously, forcing you to strain slightly to make it out. There was no playful teasing injected into these words, no way to interpret them as anything other than naked intimidation. “Don’t mistake my benevolence for weakness, you won’t live to regret it.”

A long moment of tense silence passed between the two men. You could imagine Lev’s storming rage, Yuri’s cool demeanor. You didn’t dare move, afraid that either would hear and unsure which was worse. The moment was broken only by another set of thumping, rhythmic footsteps cresting up the stairs. There was only one man who could possibly make that much noise.

“I heard shouting. I’m not missing the party, am I?” Balthus asked. While there was nothing directly antagonistic about the man’s voice, there was no mistaking the threat he posed. There was a reason he was Yuri’s right-hand man.

“No,” Yuri said. “Lev and I are simply having a… Disagreement.”

“Oh yeah?” Balthus asked. “Anything I should weigh in on?”

“That depends,” Yuri said. “What do you say, Lev?”

“Damn you, Leclerc.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Yuri asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m already damned.”

There was another moment of silence, almost long enough to make you wonder if the trio had somehow disappeared, before Lev swore under his breath and retreated past Yuri and Balthus, his feet pounding a cadenced thump, thump, thump as he stalked down the stairs.

“Balthus,” Yuri said when Lev’s footsteps were completely lost. “Would you mind making sure our friend makes it out of the city without doing anything reckless?”

“Think he might?” Balthus asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Yuri responded, his voice was more honest than with Lev. He sounded tired. “I sure as hell didn’t think he would make a move like this just yet.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Balthus paused. “What, uh, should I do if he tries anything?”

“Take him to the Vanargand. I’m sure they’ll be hunting him down regardless.”

Balthus whistled. “That’s pretty cold, boss.”

“It’s far better than he deserves,” Yuri said, his voice dark. “If she died, I…”

“No need to explain. I get it, pal,” Balthus said, saving Yuri from having to continue. As badly as you didn’t want to know what Yuri was going to say, you very desperately did, too. “I’ll make sure he stays in line. You look like you could use some rest. Or a drink.”

Yuri laughed, the sound a bit lighter than before. “You might be right about that.”

“Of course I am,” Balthus said. “You don’t live as long as I have without catching wise to these things. I’ll be off, then.”

“Good luck,” Yuri said, “and don’t do anything stupid. There’s only so much I can handle in one night.”

“Hah!” Balthus called, trampling right back down the hallway. “That big brain of yours will burst into flames if you keep on worrying about everything, pal. Better call it quits before you ruin that cute face with wrinkles.” Yuri laughed.

Realizing that Balthus leaving would mean Yuri would finally enter the room, you threw the blankets off of yourself and sat up. It hurt like hell, it felt like every single inch of your body was bruised, right down to the bone, but it was doable after the sickening dizziness passed.

You didn’t particularly want to get up, but you didn’t want to stick around and have the conversion you knew Yuri would start, either.

The way Yuri worried made your chest clench. You didn’t dare name it discomfort, but the feeling was awfully close. It was Yuri’s growing intensity that you noticed first. The way he’d get when other men got too close to you, the pointed questions he’d ask about your interactions with other people. How he worried when you had to travel or interact with people he didn’t trust, insisting that you tell him every single detail about what you were doing. Worse, the times when he seemed to know things he shouldn’t, things you didn’t tell him.

It was because of the promise he had made to your brother, he said, to keep you safe. Yuri valued the men under his command, and your brother had been a close comrade of his. And you bought it at first because your brother had always been protective, but Yuri’s behavior was different. He wasn’t your brother, but neither did you get the impression you were friends. Friends weren’t suffocatingly overprotective. Not friends, but not anything more, either. He never flirted with you as he did with everybody else, as he had before. Not even in a playful, teasing way. The tighter hold he kept on you, the more and more he maintained a distance.

Lev called you Yuri’s precious pet, and that struck too close to home. You hated it. You weren’t a child —you weren’t even a teenager anymore— and yet Yuri acted like you were made of glass. Like you couldn’t be trusted to look after yourself, like you were… Like you were a pet.

That’s why you had agreed to Lev’s job in the first. You wanted to change the dynamic the two of you had. You figured that if he saw that you weren’t as weak as he feared, that you were just as capable as the men in his gang, that he’d stop being so intensely and oppressively protective. But if he was willing to give Lev up to the torture the Vanargand gang would inflict on him for the sin of endangering you, you didn’t think it had been at all effective. Actually, it made sense that your near-death and horrible failure would have the opposite effect.

Steading yourself, you searched the room for your shoes. Someone, and you didn’t dare to think of who, had changed you into what you were pretty sure were Yuri’s clothes. While it made sense considering your own were probably nothing more than blood soaked rags, you weren’t incredibly comfortable with wearing his things. The smell alone was nearly overwhelming, but the level of intimacy it implied was something you didn’t dare consider. Even worse that you should wake up in his bed. His bed that was obviously big enough for two people, a bed that he had probably had company in because he was attractive and desirable and… And you couldn’t find your shoes.

“What are you doing?” Yuri asked. The door shut behind him, the metal latch clicking.

It occurred to you that while you’d been having a micro-meltdown, Yuri had probably been standing there watching.

“Leaving,” you responded, trying to maintain a neutral expression despite the way your voice cracked. That brave attempt fell apart with the way you burst into a coughing fit a moment later, hacking up sharp bursts of air against your scratched up throat, each breath sending aching pulses of pain against your bruised side.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Yuri scolded, rushing to the bedside table to pour you some water. So considerate, always. Guilt rose up within you. After he saved you, how could you be so rude and ungrateful? You knew he cared. He was your hero.

You averted your streaming eyes and took a few slow, careful sips from the cup as Yuri took a seat on the desk chair, sitting the wrong way with his arms draped over the chair’s back.

“Drink this, too,” he said, handing you a vial. You uncapped it to take a sniff it, wincing at the astringent scent.

“What is it?” you asked.

“It’ll help with the pain,” he said. You nodded, grateful for the idea of that, and pinched your nose to down the vial. It was exactly as disgusting as it smelled. At the very least, it wiped the smell of Yuri from your head for a spell. “You should lay back down,” he recommended. “Magic can only do so much to heal your wounds. Not to mention that you’ve had a hell of a shock. Honestly, after what happened, I’m surprised you managed to get upright. You’re full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?”

The implication, the reminder of what you’d done in such a banal tone, made you wince. Guilt or shame or embarrassment, you didn’t know. “I’m fine,” you said, staring at the floor rather than meet his eyes.

“It’s cute that you can say that with a straight face,” Yuri said. “Seriously, you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled sarcastically, an instinctually petulant reaction to the way he treated you, “But I really am capable of taking care of myself.”

He didn’t even grace that with a serious answer, rolling his eyes. “Obviously.”

“I can’t stay here,” you said.

“You can,” Yuri told you, “and you will. You’ve lost a lot of blood and I don’t need a dead body on my doorstep. It’s bad for business.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Yuri said. You met his eyes, frowning as you tried to figure out what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He sighed, likely reading the further arguments you were going to make in the way you looked at him. “I’ve had a long night dealing with your mess. Stop being a fool and do what I say.” “Or what?” you muttered, looking away again as you fought against the guilt. He didn’t own you, you weren’t even one of his men. He couldn’t order you around.

“Or I’ll make you,” Yuri said bluntly. “I doubt that’ll pleasant for either of us.”

That answer sent a shiver down your spine, whatever complaints you had been trying to maintain drying up on your tongue because you kind of believed him. His cold, cruel tone of voice when dealing with Lev was still all too clear in your mind. Besides, he was right. He was usually right. That didn’t help the terrible sensation of being treated like a child, like an invalid.

Avoiding his eyes, you set aside your cup and did what he said, tucking your feet back under the covers, leaning down against the pillows. It was a lot easier on your aching side, better for the splitting headache gathered up behind your right temple.

“Did you save me?” you asked after a moment, staring at the quilted pattern.

“Yeah,” Yuri responded, his voice unreadable.

“And you healed me?”

“What do you think?”

It had been a dumb question. You couldn’t imagine Yuri letting anyone else see that much of your bare skin to heal those wounds. All the same. “You don’t have to be rude, I was just clarifying,” you told him with a frown.

“Right, right, sorry. I just about forgot myself,” Yuri said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “What I meant was that I was the one who rushed to your rescue and healed your wounds, fair maiden. Is that better?”

You frowned, refusing to be amused by his antics. Despite the joking tone Yuri took, those words set you on edge. He hardly ever teased you like that anymore, now it just felt off. “Who changed my clothes?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Yuri asked. Was there amusement in his tone? At your embarrassment? You could feel that your cheeks were hot and hoped desperately that he couldn’t tell. “Well,” he shrugged apologetically, “it’s not like I had much of a choice and I couldn’t put you to bed in dirty clothes…” Yuri looked up to meet your horrified eyes, smiling. “Kidding. I do have some honor. I asked the landlady to help me out. Your virtue is intact.”

Virtue. You swallowed hard on that word, drinking the last of the water. Your thoughts were beginning to fuzz, becoming less clear. It made it harder to refocus after being caught off guard by his teasing. The pain wasn’t as crisp, more of a background ache rather than an insistent thud. That was distracting, too. You knew that, for some reason, he wanted to fluster you. But you couldn’t let him distract you, nor could you let your embarrassment deter you. So, clenching your fists, you looked up and met his eyes.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said carefully. “I’m… I’m sorry for inconveniencing you.”

Yuri didn’t answer right away, staring you down in his unnervingly piercing way. The intensity of his eyes was uncomfortable, but it was undercut with the swirling storm of concern amidst the individual strands of purple pigment, the void-like pool of pupil. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he said carefully. And that was honest, genuine. He looked so tired. He sounded tired.

“I owe you. Twice, for saving me and healing me,” you said, forcing the words out in as business-like of a tone as you could manage. They were slurred, slightly. Had he given you a sedative? Or was this just normal exhaustion finally taking you out? “So tell me how you would like to be repaid, and I’ll see that it’s done.”

Yuri’s head fell to the side in confusion, like the question threw him off guard. Good. “Excuse me, what?”

“That’s how it is in your world,” you replied. “Our world. Right?”

“Our world?” Yuri asked, his expression retreating into a mask.

“The real world. Altruism doesn’t exist. When someone does something for you, there’s always a price. If I want to be taken seriously, I can’t keep being naïve about that.”

“That’s pretty cynical of you.” Was it just you or did he sound sad about that fact?

“You taught me well.”

“Not well enough,” he said, frowning as his eyes lingered on the bruises. He sighed. “So, I take it that that’s why you went? You want to be taken seriously?”

“Yes,” you said slowly, surprised that he’d be able to cut to the heart of it so quickly. Then again, it shouldn’t have been that surprising. Yuri was all too good at that.

“Word to the wise,” Yuri told you. “Never act unless success is guaranteed. If you want to be taken seriously, you have to have results to show for it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said.

“And another thing,” Yuri added. “Never give out open ended favors. Not even to people you trust. You might not like it when they call to collect.”

“But I know you wouldn’t want anything bad from me,” you said, frowning and unsure if he was implying what you thought he was. He couldn’t be, not Yuri. Not to you.

“Is that a fact?” he asked. “I could be helping you simply to get one of those incredibly enticing open favors. Now I’ve got two of them, I wonder what I could ask for…”

“I’m being serious,” you said.

“You think I’m not?” Yuri smiled at you like he knew all the secrets in the world, like you’d never catch him without the trickster’s mask or even guess at what he had hidden beneath. But then your reply was eaten by a mostly stifled yawn that tugged hard at your sore jaw and all pretense fell away to the concerned expression you knew so well from him. “Alright, enough of that. You look like you’re about to pass out. Get some sleep. I’ll watch over you, yeah?” he offered, flipping the chair around so he could sit directly at the bedside.

You couldn’t argue with that, yawning again. It hit you all at once, it seemed. You were passing out, the need for sleep becoming more and more pressing with each breath. “Next time,” you told him, your words slurring like a drunk as you settled further down into the bed. Your body felt so heavy, the colors of the room smoothing out like butter, the smell that clung to the bedding and the clothes filling you with warmth. “Next time for sure, I’ll show you. Then I won’t owe you-” you yawned, again. This time you just gave up. He definitely had given you a sedative. Unfortunately, you were too far gone to be mad. Sleeping would be nice anyway. You were so tired.

“There won’t be a next time,” Yuri told you. There was something absolute in his tone, a hard edge that wasn’t to be questioned.

“Why?” you asked, trying to clench your fists to remain lucid for a moment longer. This question was important, important enough for you to fight against your heavy and scattered thoughts. “Why do you care... so much?”

“I don’t know,” Yuri said, his voice threadbare and exposed. He really looked so tired, so beautiful. He had more masks than anyone, but right then you didn’t think that it was a mask.

He didn’t know either.

Where did that leave you?

Floating, it seemed. Lavender and milk and shadow blurred in your vision, the colors of Yuri. Your eyes fluttered shut, filled with a kaleidoscope of him. The pain was gone, you couldn’t even find the passion to argue or to be mad or afraid or upset. It was enough to be safe, to be with him, to be warm.

Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow you would get answers.

“You remind me of something I lost a long time ago,” Yuri said after a moment. It would have been too much to open your eyes or respond, so you just listened, marveling at the way his voice created the words, the way it caressed them. Had you really never noticed how delicious his voice was? You could lose yourself in it, you thought. “Something even I can’t steal for myself,” Yuri continued, “something more precious than a Heroes Relic. As long as I can preserve that, I can live with the consequences.”

You didn’t fight when he grabbed your hand from where it had fallen on the comforter, pulling it up into both of his. Yuri’s hands were rough, his fingers narrow and long and nice. They were scarred and bloodstained. They held yours gently, tenderly.

“Heh, maybe I’m a coward to tell you now. I doubt you’ll remember this by tomorrow.”

“I’ll remember,” you mumbled mindlessly, your eyes remaining closed. How could you forget this warmth? The beauty of the colors in your head, the feeling of his touch.

Yuri pressed his cheek against your hand. The skin was soft, warm. “Maybe you will. You certainly deserve my honesty. But after tonight... Maybe it’s too late to anyway. I tried so hard to protect you, even from myself.” He laughed, a humorless puff of air against your knuckles. “Especially from myself. Sometimes I can’t help but think that it’s inevitable that everything and everyone who becomes close to me will be stained by the association. I didn’t want to see that shine in your eyes become dull. This cruel, cynical world destroys everything of value, but not you.” He paused, thinking. You drifted, the words rolling over you without sticking, without meaning. His voice was so lovely. “But you’re wrong, you know,” Yuri continued after a while, pulling you back. “Things done out of love don’t have a price. You don’t owe me anything, you never have.”

Yuri’s lips brushed over your knuckles, a kiss over each ridge, before one of his hands untangled itself. You leaned into the feeling of his calloused fingertips on your warm cheek, pushing your hair out of the way as they caressed your face. Even in your vague stupor, the touch was enough to make your eyes open. Half-lidded, your sight hazy. Yuri glowed in the candlelight.

A smile tugged at the corner of his pink lips, a melancholic expression. So sad. Did he always look so sad? So beautiful? It made your heart ache, a hollow, faraway feeling.

“Hey,” he said, meeting your eyes. You attempted a smile in return, a dozing, drunken, delirious smile. “If I told you tomorrow that I loved you, would you take me as I am?” You hummed. A yes, maybe, no. He was still stroking your face, holding your hand. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been touched like this. Not since you were a child, you didn’t think. So nice, so soft. “That’s the problem, I don’t know. And I… I don’t act unless victory is assured. If I make a move and lose you for good…” He squeezed your hand, his eyes closing. “I don’t want to lose you. Not to the whims of the cruel world and not by corrupting you with my black heart.” Your eyes closed again, his words becoming lost in your fascination with his voice. Yuri’s fingers left your cheek, returning to wrap around your hand. “Even if can never have you,” he said, a soft resolution in his voice, “it’ll be okay as long as you’re safe. And I know that you’ll be safe as long as you stay with me.”

#dimitrimidim #yuri leclerc #fe yuri #yuri leclerc x reader #fe yuri x reader #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #my writing #yandere //#yuri #yuri x reader #whoops hope y'all like this #as the kids say #yeet #uh if there's issues just pretend they're not answering the phone

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 35)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: I know, I know, the gif is huge, so much bigger than I usually put in the chapters but c’moooon, look at him!

Anyways, hope you like this one. Love ya!

Stithulf is alive. Stithulf is alive. Stithulf is alive.

And you can remain between dead and alive for a while longer.

Shame threatens to choke you, but the relief seeps into your very bones and you allow yourself to forget what you ought to feel and revel in the freedom the bindings of your promises give you.

You distractedly nod your greetings to the few warriors that call your name in passing, but your eyes remain on Ivar as he speaks a few words with Hvitserk and Ubbe.

Toying with your wedding ring, you thank the Gods, both theirs and yours, for granting you what you asked out of them.

His survival, his return. Their victory.

And time.

Before long Ivar walks back towards you, tired movements of his arm on the crutch, while the other extends to you, expecting the touch of your hand on his.

You do not hesitate, but you do linger on it.

On the way his hand feels rough and warm as it holds on to yours, on the softness in his expression as he kisses your fingers, on the smile he offers you, a secret and something else written in it.

____

When you get to your room, you allow yourself to be lost in the heady feeling of having him back with you, lingering close in his embrace and kissing him until you can’t remember the cold that embraced you in his absence.

But, eventually, you need to put your feet back on the ground.

At your back Ivar leans against a table, pouring a goblet of mead for himself and you. You take a deep breath, turning around with your hands folded over your stomach, and your back straight.

“You didn’t tell me about what Freydis did.”

Ivar doesn’t look at you as he offers gruffly, “Would you have believed me?”

Your response is instantaneous, unwavering, “Yes.”

He finally turns his gaze to you, considering you in silence. You know he accepts the truth behind your words, but won’t admit it aloud. Instead, he shrugs,

“I wanted her to be the one to tell you.”

“Wanted to keep that conversation between just the two of you for as long as you could?” You press before you can keep the words from leaving your lips.

Ivar’s smile earns an edge of cruelty as he taunts, “Jealous?”

Oh, but you refuse to let him have this victory. So, you return the same kind of smile.

“She is. Of you,” You confess, a tilt of your head when you continue, “But you know that, don’t you? Very alike, Freydis and you.”

“I am not jealous of a slave.”

You never said anything about him being jealous of her.

“She isn’t a slave. And you are jealous.” You insist, unwavering. Ivar’s nose furrows in anger and something else, and with a small sound of exertion he stands up, walking towards you.

“What do I have to be jealous of, hm?” He asks, “I have you, and she doesn’t.”

But it doesn’t sound certain, it sounds accusing, and it irks you, that he may doubt it.

“Is that a question?”

Past the flare of rage in his pale eyes, you notice something else, something more fragile. And he presses, eyes wide, “Should it be?”

You search his gaze, almost offended that he dares question you, affronted at the idea that nothing you do is enough to prove to him that you are true.

But you don’t find cutting edges, or bitter accusations, or distrust, written in his expression, no. You find fear, you find the same lost look in his eyes as that night where he told you, I can’t help but think it a vision, a mirage, that once I get close enough will just vanish.

You drop your shoulders with a breath, and concede, “No, of course not.”

But when you turn around Ivar reaches for your arm, your wrist trapped in a rough hand as he makes you turn to face him once again. Dread grips at you, the possibility of going back to what it used to be.

Because the coldness in his expression is familiar, and so is the surge of anger in your chest.

“But she is still by your side, even now that you know she betrayed you,” His eyes search yours and his grip on your arm tightens momentarily. “Why?”

“Because I trust her, because…she regrets what she did.”

“And regret is enough for you?” His anger rises with his words, and his brow furrows as he says, “I don’t want her near you.”

You take your arm off his grasp with a forceful tug, and say, “It isn’t your choice to make, Ivar.”

Ivar’s lip curls into a snarl, a furrow of his nose, a glint in his eyes that speaks of wrath and the desire to control and command it all.

Voice low, almost a threat, he insists, “You are my wife, you’d do good to remember that.”

Narses’ words echoing in the empty room, “As the commander of your forces, as the man you’ll marry, I’m telling y-…”

And your response that left your lips like poison, “If you try using that to silene me, I fear you will not live long as my husband.”

And the same anger of centuries, the same pride of being told too many times you ought to do or be something other than what you are, make you meet Ivar’s eyes, not giving an inch, “And you’d do good to remember that if you wanted someone meek and obedient, you should have married someone else.

He doesn’t let you have a victory, but he doesn’t push for his own on this matter either, choosing instead to glare at you.

And turns out you are very alike, Freydis and you, Ivar and you. Because there is a part of you that since the night of your wedding has held on to this foolish, damning jealousy.

“Maybe you should have married Freydis,” You tell him, biting, “Have her do as you say, and tell you everything you want to hear. Since you were so quick to believe her words when she spoke against everything your wife tells you, I gather-…”

“I didn’t believe her,” You open your mouth to argue, but Ivar is quicker, “Not over you.”

“But she lives.” You reply, with more words asking the same question he did you: why.

“She lives because of you, because you love her. Because you wouldn’t forgive me if I killed her,” He offers, unwavering. Ivar tilts his head to the side, considers you before taunting, “Don’t assume anything other than you is what keeps Freydis safe from me.”

It is fear and anger what makes you look at him in a blend of disgust and something else, and you vow, “You won’t touch a hair on her head, Ivar. On your Gods and mine, if you hurt her-…”

He interrupts you with a mocking laugh. You hadn’t heard those in a while.

“You will kill me?”

“I will make you regret it,” You offer, not missing a beat. Your words to him as he asked whether you had forgiven him for killing those merchants come to your lips, this time not as anything else other than what you meant. “Don’t forget, you can hurt me, but-…”

“But you can hurt me too, I remember,” He interrupts, but there’s less edge, even if his resolve doesn’t waver. Ivar offers a quiet scoff, and with a small smile that speaks of an attempt at a truce tells you, “I listen, you just insist on thinking I don’t.”

And the part of you that is too alike him recedes, gives in, at the way he lowers the shield, exchanges the fighting stance for something softer. You lift your free hand to the side of his face, trace the scar on his cheekbone with comfortable familiarity.

Your voice is quiet, a promise, “Then listen to me now, when I tell you she deserves my trust.”

A moment, a breath, where his eyes meet yours seemingly in search for the answer to the question he hasn’t yet asked, before he presses,

“More than I do?”

“Never.” You vow, a small smile on your lips that Ivar doesn’t hesitate to lean down and taste against his own.

“Good.” He promises before he moves away from you and towards the bed.

Ivar sits down on the edge of the bed, one hand lifting an iron-encased leg to move it to the side, leaving space between his legs. He motions you closer as if your proximity were another step of the process, and you lift your eyebrows in question.

“My damn legs hurt, but I want you close. Get over here.”

You move to stand between his legs, but it seems you take too long, for he puts his hands on your hips and brings you closer.

Ivar’s gaze lowers to his hands, and he traces with his eyes as well as his fingers the belt that hangs low on your hips, asking quietly, “How was it? Ruling Kattegat alone?”

The argument isn’t over, the Gods know Ivar won’t leave an argument unfinished; but he does seem willing -eager, even- to forget it for the time being. And, if you’re honest, so are you.

“Wondering if now that I tasted power I look to usurp you?” You tease, your arms over his shoulders, fingers playing at the back of his neck.

Ivar chuckles quietly, and it still fills you with warmth to be able to make him laugh. You don’t think that will ever change.

“You won’t go to war against me,” He tells you in jest. But, because he cannot help himself, he taunts, “You’d lose.”

“I’ve been learning a lot from you, love, I wouldn’t be so certain.”

He smiles up at you, but there’s an edge of softness in it that grips your heart tight.

His hand lifts to your face, and Ivar brings you down and kisses you.

While the way he kissed you on the docks was hungry and desperate, bringing you as close as possible with a demanding grip; now he takes his time exploring your mouth, softly, languidly, and his hands take their time roaming over your body.

Instead of pulling back, Ivar lingers in the breath you share, brows pressed together and eyes closed. And he leans and claims your lips again, softly, quickly pulling back. And again, and again.

You smile against his mouth, unable to keep yourself from breathing out his name.

“You missed me.” He tells you, a dare. But you hear the question behind it.

“I did,” You reassure quietly, your hand on the side of his face holding him still as you press the softest of kisses on the corner of his mouth. “I missed you, Ivar.”

He lets out a small hum, either at your touch or your words. And it is a familiar sound. It is the same that left his lips when you kissed him on the night of your wedding, the same that left his lips when you told him you wanted him on the night that everything changed.

Gods, you love him.

The daze of the moment dissipates, and Ivar leans a bit back, though he doesn’t relinquish his hold on you, arms still secure around your waist as he looks up at you.

“Freydis betrayed you, you know it isn’t smart to keep her near.”

You absently trace the chainmail over his shoulder, as you think of your answer.

“Everyone I have trusted has betrayed me, I think. Even you, you put-…”

“Put chains on you and dragged you all the way to Kattegat, I know,” Ivar interrupts, exasperated. You chuckle at his frustration, and he brings you closer, his face against your stomach and in the way he tilts his head a silent command that you undo his braids. You smile, and get to work. Ivar continues, voice muffled against your dress, “But I have made amends, I have paid for it.”

“Have you?” You tease, and Ivar turns his head to stare up at you, the beginning of a smirk on his lips. “Because if one thinks about it, you have gotten exactly what you wanted.”

“But I’ve fought for it, I’ve earned it.”

“Earned me?” You ask, a tilt of your eyebrow.

He shakes his head, “I’m not answering that.”

It draws a laugh out of you, and you settle in the quiet peace as you continue working on his hair, his arms secure around your waist, his head a comfortable weight against you.

“You earned my…trust,” You confess, hoping he doesn’t notice the waver in your voice. If he does, he does not let it show. “And so has Freydis. You must trust my judgement, Ivar.”

“I do. But I also know you have a good heart, and you’d let someone escape Hel if they spoke words of love.”

“I’m not that naïve.”

“But you are soft.”

Your nails drag over the shaved side of his head, moving his hair back and also succeeding in making his eyes threaten to flutter shut.

“I know you don’t intend it to sound like one, but with each time you tell me that it sounds more and more like an insult.”

He shrugs, “Take it as an insult then. It is still true.”

The smile his words draw on your lips is exasperated and lovesick and so many things, but you still shake your head at him, disbelieving.

“Do you intend to insult your wife often?”

“My wife is…something else when she is angry, so I don’t see why not.”

The noticeable steps of a thrall somewhere behind you make you both come down from the moment of quiet, and Ivar stands up from the bed as you step away from him.

The thrall mutters the bath you requested be drawn is ready, and you turn to her with a smile.

“Thank you,” You tell her, before asking her, “Without lavender oil, right? It’s not for me.”

“Of course.” She promises, a bow of her head and she is gone.

“Lavender,” Is all Ivar says when you turn around, and you frown in confusion. He offers a thoughtful nod, as if he is just realizing something, “That’s what you smell like.”

Your heart does a strange thing in your chest, but you still smile up at him, even if it is crooked and foolish.

“Why am I not surprised you sniff me, Viking?”

He shrugs, unbothered, “You are the one that uses flowers to be perfumed for me.”

“I have used lavender oil since you brought me here.” You argue, the it wasn’t for you implicit in your tone, but Ivar’s smile only widens.

He leans closer and you stay frozen in your spot, and he runs his cold nose up the column of your throat, before dropping a kiss under your ear.

“I know.”

His voice, accented and low and his, right by your ear, makes your knees weak.

“J-Just go.” You tell him, stepping back again with a hand on his chest to keep him away.

____

Luckily not many were lost, and most of those who returned injured will be alright. You spend a while tending to the more urgent matters with the healers, but before long dusk threatens to settle upon you, and you return to your room.

Grateful for the warm water and cloth a thrall offers you, you shrug off the bloodied dress and clean the stain of blood and work from your skin.

The girl leaves you alone as you put on the clean dress, and as you work on the laces of it -as best as you can, having grown so unused to lacing your dress up yourself- you hear the door to your rooms open again.

“Love? Where are you?”

Hearing Ivar call you that never ceases to make warmth settle in your chest, a strange blend of joy and pride. It takes you a few moments to reply, too caught up lingering on the words you haven’t said yet.

“Back here,” You call out, hearing the characteristic shuffling of your husband crawling over the wooden floor. “My dress got blood on it, I needed to change.”

“You do know you don’t need to go back there, right?” He says, a blend of mocking and daring. “I have seen you naked before.”

The water of the bath growing cold around you, and alone in the room with Ivar you grit your teeth at how he offers you the linen to cover yourself, but stays more than a few feet away from you, arrogant and hungry.

“Yes, I remember.” You bite out.

Ivar chuckles, sending a shiver down your spine as if he were right behind you, even though he’s on the other side of the room.

“Oh, trust me, so do I.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” He calls out, a small grunt as he lifts himself onto the bed. “I’m sure you often wish you did, but you don’t.”

You walk from behind the wooden wall with a chuckle, but you stop short when you see Ivar on the bed, for the first time since you’ve known him with nothing but pants on.

Gods, imagining what he looked like was nothing compared to this, was it? Broad shoulders, strong arms, defined chest. Your eyes are greedily taking in the new sight, and your heart beats quicker in your chest. A rush of heat goes through you, because there’s a ring on your finger and it’s a reminder that he’s yours.

Your eyes linger on the ink traces on his skin, paths that curve sinuously over the arch of his strong shoulders, that travel down his arms and dare venture over his chest.

“What is it?”

Your throat is dry, and you have to force your eyes to meet his.

“I, um, I had never seen them before.”

“You’ve seen people with ink on them.”

You cannot help the nostalgic huff of laughter that leaves your lips, your lips curved into a side smile.

“When I was younger, I was warned by Frankian travelers of those Norsemen and how they tempted women away from their God with their bodies, with the…traces of ink on their skin. A part of me…clung to those warnings,” Your voice lowers, and so do your eyes, returning to the ink traces on Ivar’s chest. “Surrounded by Christians and Arabs, I would…fantasize about Viking men.”

And looking at him, you understand why those Christian women forgot their vows and their God.

Ivar grunts, settling better in his place and not meeting your eyes, uncomfortable.

“And the Viking you married is a cripple, not even whole,” He spits out, and your stomach tightens with dread and cold. “I’d say ask the Gods why they curse you so, but they don’t answer.”

Frowning, you step closer.

“Don’t say those things,” You chastise softly, “You are whole, and…and I wouldn’t want anyone else.”

“I thought you didn’t lie to me, wife.” He snaps back, but it doesn’t have the usual biting cruelty, it is more…wavering.

“I don’t.”

“You’ll tell me you don’t wish I’d been born…normal?” There’s bitterness and something else in his voice when he confesses, “I do.”

“If you were any different you wouldn’t be you,” You remind him, standing by the edge of the bed, a question in your eyes. Ivar’s eyes fall from yours, but it is an answer, so you sit down, facing him. “You are who you are because of your legs, Ivar, as much as anything else. If you were any different, you wouldn’t be you, and I wouldn’t want you the way I do.

The smile he offers is short-lived and insincere, and your chest pulls tight. You lean closer but he still refuses to meet your eyes.

Your voice is hushed, but you know he can hear you, when you say,

“If you were any different, I wouldn’t love you the way I do.”

If you name things, you make them real. And real things are dangerous things.

But you don’t feel anything other than peace, at having finally said it. You’ve admitted it to others for so long, to yourself for even longer, it was time you admitted it to him too. Ivar deserved to know, maybe more than anyone.

He furrows his brow, questioning, hesitant. His expression trembles, but his eyes desperately search yours for the truth behind your words.

“Y-You…?” His words die, and there’s a fragility to him, a vulnerability that tells you of the hold you have on his heart, and it terrifies even you.

The hesitance to accept your words as true, the fear that somehow this isn’t real, the desperation for any reassurance that you love him; it makes tears sting at your eyes and your heart hurt deep in your chest.

Still, the words come easy, and they are a promise, a reassurance, a truth when you speak them.

“I love you, Ivar.”

He doesn’t give you time to dwell on the strange way his expression falls at your words, because he brings you closer and hungrily claims your mouth.

You cannot keep the soft sound of surprise and delight that leaves your lips, and you allow yourself to surrender to his kiss, to the heady feeling of him. Your hand falls on his shoulder to support your weight as he demands you move even closer with a hand on the back of your head.

Before long, you have to part for breath, but Ivar is insistent, claiming your lips again and again and again, each time with growing urgency, with a desperation that isn’t born out of lust but of…fear.

With your brow pressed against his and your hand on the side of his neck, you silently ask him to slow down.

You open your eyes, and take in the strangely pained expression on his face. Brows furrowed, jaw clenched tight, and hands that you both pretend don’t tremble as they cup your face.

“I love you,” You whisper, because you can, because you want to, because he needs you to. You cross the distance between you and kiss him softly, pouring all you feel for him in the gentle press of your lips on his. “I love you,” You tell him again, kissing him again, granting him in the soft and loving kisses what reassurance he was looking for in the desperate kisses he demanded before. “I love you,” His eyes refuse to open yet, and your hand lifts to the side of his face, fingers delicately tracing the scar on his cheekbone, hoping the by-now-familiar gesture can make him lose some of the tension that has taken a hold of him. His eyes finally open, and you smile. Voice quiet, you offer, “I love you, Ivar. More than anyone, more than anything, I love you.”

This time, when you lose yourself in him, there’s softness instead of desperation, even though the hunger and the want linger.

You meet his gaze when you pull back, hoping he finds whatever he is searching for in your eyes.

But before long your gaze returns to his bare chest, and the ink traces that roam over his skin. You lower your hand from where it rested on his neck to touch him, but stop yourself just a hair’s breadth away from his skin, your breath caught in your throat when you lift your eyes to his.

He grabs your hand, and moves you forward, pressing your palm against the skin over his heart.

And as if chains were broken, you now are free to trace with your fingers as well as your eyes the ink traces on Ivar’s chest.

You move closer, and drag the tips of your fingers over the figure of what looks to be a prow of a Viking ship, and follow the traces of the ink down the side of his chest, almost to his stomach.

His chest rises and falls quickly at your touch, and you when you lift your gaze back to his and find dark eyes looking intently into yours, you bite your lip to try to keep at bay a smile.

You were never one to hunger for power, but if power means this, if power means Ivar’s parted lips and quickened breaths, if power means making him tremble at the faintest of your touches; you understand why so many kill and die in search for power.

There’s a thrill, in having such power. A thrill that makes your own heart quicken in your chest, that makes you want to lean down and trace the paths of the ink with your tongue and your lips.

And because you’re the one in power now, you do.

You start near his collarbone where one of the thick lines curves from his shoulder, letting your breaths trace the skin for a moment before you kiss it.

Ivar lets out a shaky breath when your lips touch his skin, and that only encourages you to keep going. You move further down, a trail of kisses down the center of his chest, while your hands leisurely explore the rest of him, his shoulders, his arms, his sides.

When you lift your eyes to his face, not content in soft little sounds and the rapid rise and fall of his chest, finding yourself wanting to see the evidence of your effect on him written in his expression, you find pale blue eyes dark and hungry, focused intently on you.

You offer a side smile against his skin, and the ink traces are long forgotten as one of your hands ventures down his chest, trailing down his stomach and…

He grips your hand before you can go any lower, and you make a sound of protest as you watch him trap your wrist in his hand. You are petulantly upset that he stopped you, because he is yours, and you want to touch him, you want to show him that he most certainly can feel pleasure, and that you most certainly want to give it to him.

His hand at the back of your neck makes you look up at him, and he brings you to him with a certainty that borders on desperation.

His mouth claims yours urgently, and you answer the siren call, straddling him and surrendering to the taste of his kiss, to the feeling of his hands on you.

Ivar brings you closer and closer, sitting up so that as much of you is pressed against as much of him as possible, as if trying to make you one.

One of his hands lingers on your backside, grasping at you and bringing you closer, while the other roams over you. His free hand roughly cups your breast as he moves his lips down the column of your throat, and your back arches, his name a breath on your lips.

You feel dazed and yet you still feel the hunger, you still starve and want and ache.

Hearing you call his name makes Ivar slow down, and he pulls back slightly to look at you. His hand falls back to your waist and you instantly miss the touch.

His gaze meets yours, his eyes dark and his lips parted and bearing the mark of your kiss.

“I want you,” He tells you, gaze falling back to your lips. He steals another kiss, and when he pulls back, he repeats the words you told him, “However I can have you.”

____ ____ ____

I’m almost sorry for ending it like that btw, but I have my reasons and I think you can guess what those reasons are lol

I hope you liked it, thank you so much for reading!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @chibisgotovalhalla @the-a-word-2214 @fae-sedai @crazybunnyladysworld @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοστ��λγία masterlist

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patchies · 3 years

Text

Shadows

Pairing: Dream x Reader x ???

Summary: An apocalyptic world where creatures of the night roam all around it. Searching for living beings to satisfy their hunger. Vicious creatures they are. It’s said that one person called upon their wrath in revenge. You awake in this place with another human being at your side. No memories whatsoever of the life you’ve had prior to coming here. In search of a way out, and your memories, you stumble upon multiple people with many personalities. Some can’t wait to meet you. If you take it the friendly or hostile way is up to you, but worry not… Nothing can hurt you. Or can it, now?

Warnings: none that I can think of

Word Count: 2.8+k

Author's note: hi, hi, hi! I bring you a new chapter after what... 1 and a half months of not uploading anything? My apologies are probably not enough, but I have been working on chapters, I promise! And, drum roll, please, I might have some art in store for this series. It isn't done, yet, but I'm trying to work on it, guys!

Wattpad link: here

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Chapter 4: Forming Friendship

As the sun starts off the next day, you and Nick depart from your home in search of more resources. He throws in a suggestion that you should spread out, so you could cover more ground, and you agree- not like you have anything else to do for the meantime. Unless you want to be stuck at home playing some card games Nick had found while searching for the paint buckets.

You search the places south, just outside the town. All the buildings look the same to your wondering eyes, nothing valuable piquing your interest that much, so you rather opt for wandering further. Through the greenery until a clearing reveals itself before you.

A beautiful and elegant meadow stretches across the horizon. As if a page was torn from a fairy-tale book, and rightfully so. The only thing missing is a royal castle or fairies' houses. Pollen flies in the air and swirls around you enchantingly and a surge of calmness goes through your being. An accommodation in your body along with the feeling of delight.

The nature has truly taken over most of the world.

It's not like you can complain, really. Colours, textures and elements flow with each other in a beautiful harmony, creating an almost painting-like picture that you can marvel at.

Deep down, you were always a fan of the quietness Mother nature has offered you at times in need. Whenever you felt down, really.

You slightly remember how it helped you with your anxiety, shyness and depression when you used to be socially awkward and unwilling to do something about it. It felt peaceful compared to the continuous pressure many people used to put on you. Not many people were harsh on you, but your social battery could take so much until all you were ready to do was just lie down, put on a playlist of your favourite songs and chill. They denied your want to be left alone when the only thing you needed was space and your own time. Their faces are now blurry images of faces you once used to know, but you don't know if you'll ever get back to your life or how long it might take.

I should throw away my pessimistic thoughts…

That was a part of the old you, though. You'd like to think that you're better now, but your pessimism has stayed with you nonetheless. It's about time you started working on it and who knows? You might get to form plenty friendships here who will be willing to help you.

With a shake of your messy hair, you focus back to the beauty in front of you, pushing the vines away and walking towards the flowery meadow.

Yellow grains contrast gorgeously with the sparse greenery the field has to offer here and there.

You bent down and pluck one of the many Dahlias near your feet, putting the pistil close to your nose.

Sniff, sniff, sniff

The flower alone doesn't smell alluring or sweet, like anything. The stem and leaves, on another note, smell bitter with a slight flowery undertone. It strikes a sense of serenity in you as you inspect the innocent white petals be carried away from you by the wind, flying off to the clear sky to join the fine powdery substance.

You let go of the stem and watch it be snatched, following its trace until it falls between the loads of flowers.

Just then, a gentler breeze begins and takes a handful of leaves of the ground, aiming just below a small hill to your left as if it had a mind of its own. You realize that it might actually do as it points you to a lone building sitting at the base, overflown with the finest flora you've ever faced.

A mere bookshop from what you can see from the distance. The walls are built from brick and it still seems in a decent shape, except the nature, but that gives it a special charm. A great place to get away from all this chaotic and death-threating events for even a while.

You carefully move through the grass and blossoms, trekking your way up to it.

• • •

Meanwhile, somewhere far away from you, a deer curiously, yet cautiously, examines you from a cliffside looking over the whole meadow. Its doe eyes flick from you to a small fawn by its side.

It huffs, shakes its head and turns, departing into the forest.

• • •

The inside is wondrous, despite your expectations of it being completely trashed.

Bookshelves line the walls and are all filed with all styles of literature. Slightly used, torn and unkept. It gives you an idea how no one surely visits this place. The place looks great, so it doesn't make much sense to you. You cannot help but be a little happy over the fact at that despite the telling signs of its abandonment.

Your hand automatically lifts up to slide over the spines of the books, keeping your touch light as you advance further inside. The rough, yet extremely soothing, texture extracts a small smile from you and you close your eyes. You begin dragging your other appendage across the parallel shelf until a thud makes you shoot your eyes open in alert, whipping your head behind you, but finding nothing out of ordinary.

With your now unsure footsteps, you slowly walk to the end of the aisle in front of you, peeking around the corner.

You catch sight of a short boy sitting in front of a shelf, or rather a stand, with comic books. He's sat down near the middle where the wooden stand is, flipping through each comic with haste.

A messy brown nest of hair sits atop his head while a flower crown with some scarce plastic bees thrown in reasts atop and a long green scarf messily wrapped around his neck. It strangely compliments his look that is styled with green, golden and black and despite the apocalyptic surroundings and lack of proper resources, you're surprised he's styled it very prettily.

A black stylish coat with golden accents is thrown on the floor near him along with his messenger bag, its contents peeking out. Especially the thick book with a pack of pencils. You wonder what the book contains, but maybe you'll get a chance to see it sometime.

You cautiously and carefully lean against a counter near you, observing the young boy as he shuffles through numerous comics. He huffs out a long sigh, throwing another book aside. It comes tumbling down back to him due to the amount he has already piled on top of each other. His nimble fingers pick up another one, swiping through it with precision.

He mumbles something quietly, softly putting the comic onto another pile beside him that is neat compared to the other one.

This demeanour continues for a long minute, basically choosing a book in a ratio that one is kept and twelve are thrown away. He never seems too happy with his decision, frowning at some in sadness despite having to give up on them. You don't understand why he doesn't put them onto the obvious piles of his favourites, but you stand in your place.

Having enough of watching, you whistle too loudly to get his attention.

Only to see the guy jump up in the air and slip on a paper he has previously abandoned on the ground. He pointlessly flails his arms around until his elbow hits the ground first, followed by his hip and the rest of his body.

You wince.

As if caught in the headlights, he spins his head to you. The previously left out paper now present on his head. You see confusion, fear and surprise fight against who will persevere on his face, so you lower your shoulders back down and give him an awkward smile, “Uh, sorry?”

He unsurely stumbles to his feet and dusts his clothes off, tightening the scarf around his neck with tense movement. His eyes widen and he makes a quick, though awkward, show of pulling out a stick?

He fumbles around with it for a bit before it extends into a normal looking sword, posing heroically, “I'll- uh, stab you! Yeah! I'll use this sword to stab you.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his choice of words, and at the adorable stutter he did, “Do you even know how to wield a sword?”

“Of course, I do! Wait- do I? No, no, no, you're just trying to make me look silly. I do know-”

Cue an uncoordinated swing of the sharpened weapon at his own leg, but at least his reaction time seems to be fast and he slides his foot out of harm's way just in time. One he created, and he watches as the sword penetrates the wooden boards and he struggles to pull it out.

His action makes you doubt his abilities further and a you can't help the small giggle that escapes you, raising your arms in mock defence when he sends you a defensive glare, “You- you cannot be serious. Quit the child's play, I'm not here to hurt you.”

He stays quiet, still pulling on the handle of the sword with unfortunate outcomes. It slips out of his fists multiple times and he sighs before flopping down onto the floor, defeated, “I guess I really don't know.”

You choose not to retort any sassy comeback to his gloomy self, rather analysing his figure and approaching the weapon. Arms still held above your head to show you don't plan on attacking, your features soft, “Mind me getting the weapon for you? I won't use it against you, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” he gives you an absent wave of his hand and only stares as you grip the handle.

At first, you tug and nothing happens, so you try holding it at a specific place and are delighted when you feel a small button press against your palm, giving it one more tug along with a squeeze of the switch.

An imaginary lightbulb blinks above his head as he sees the sword retract from the ground and you're left gripping the stick in your hand, “See? It isn't as hard, is it now?”

“I admit, you're right,” he accepts the handle from your outstretched hand, storing it into his hoodie pocket.

No wonder you didn't notice it before. He's had it hidden there and he had to have pulled it out when you whistled. Although you personally wouldn't own a weapon like that, it probably comes in handy for situations like these. You aren't sure if it'd be beneficial in an actual fight against a stronger and better crafted weapon, though.

A switchblade would do a better job, surely. From what you've seen, they're a lighter object, more portable and friendlier to beginners. Might even suit his style of fighting better, even if you haven't seen it in action yet, to be truthful, “I do believe I'm right.”

“I would beat you if I had my hatchet!”

You chuckle, “Well, we can always engage in hand-to-hand combat, if you're that confident in getting me. Why use weapons?”

His eyes widen and all his courage dissipates, waving his hands crazily and shaking his head, “When you say it like that, I'll pass you on that offer, thank you. Why didn't you attack me, by the way? Oh, and also, I'm Tubbo, since we seem to be okay with each other.”

Refraining from telling him your name back, you swing your arm at his head and watch him yelp, shut his eyes and flinch from you in humorous satisfaction. You stop it inches from his face, lowering it and stepping away from him, “You should've seen your face, Mr. Tubbo. I'd say we are okay, but I had to pull that on you and to answer your question of my peace towards you… You just seemed harmless.”

He stands up and looks at you in feign anger, jabbing an accusing finger into your chest “You're so cruel, what? I can't trust you now.”

Tubbo crosses his arms, turning away from you. You turn away from him and spot his collection of comics. His previous actions coming to the forefront of your mind, “Hey, why were you browsing through so many comics?”

“I was looking for something,” he shrugs, walking past you and picking up quite a big amount of comic books. He catches the incredulous glance you give the items in his hands and nods his head at them, “They aren't for me.”

“You looked quite sad when you couldn't grab one for yourself, why can't you?”

He's surprised you picked up on that, but he just shrugs, “I would. If my bag allowed me to carry so much at once and I just want to surprise my friends.”

You give a small 'aww', making his ears flush pink and cower away, “I could help you carry them. Where is your camp?”

“I don't think I should be revealing that to strangers, but I've never been the smartest with decisions and I'm sure you'd notice either way,” Tubbo stuffs the books inside his bag, barely closing it, “I could just act like I abducted you.”

“Won't that be suspicious? You actually seem like a person who's too nice to do that.”

The bee boy lightly grins at that while putting his coat on, throwing the messenger bag on his shoulder, “I'm bad at acting, too, so they'd surely notice.”

“Are any of them keeping guard on this place, by the way?”

“No,” his answer is straight-forward, without any hesitation, “It might be very shocking, but none of my friends know about this place. Although I visit quite often than not. It gets quite harsh out there, y'know?”

You hum, choosing to drop the subject and return back to an airier topic, “Which ones do you like?”

Tubbo's quick to light up at the change, dropping to his knees and shuffling through the messy mountain of comics once again. He carelessly throws ten of them at you in happiness and leaves you grasping them to your chest. You laugh at his enthusiasm, reading off few of the titles and shaking your head as he keeps on searching for more.

This was probably a crazy idea, but whatever. Tubbo seems like an adorable person to be around.

Not long after you get ready to leave, keeping the conversation loose and it's almost effortless how you get along. The themes get intertwined between you with ease, pointing to some aspects around you if you want to make a point.

He is a strange guy to get a hold of, but you can say that you like how easy-going talking is with him. The male has visibly suffered some of his own stuff, but he still has this bubbly personality around him that you can't wrap your mind around. Though, you enjoy that little perk he has.

At one point, you lose sight of the boy, looking around you in confusion only to have him appear behind you and throw a freshly made flower crown on top of your head. The question of where he got it from is lost to his ears as he babbles on how he needs to teach you the crafting of one, so you could be 'flower crown buddies'. His own words. Your reaction is to bump your shoulder with his, joking how he is too goofy for you to even want to learn. A look of betrayal is thrown at you and you chuckle.

He proceeds to skip at certain intervals during your trek through the forest, too, visibly being excited to earn a new friend who is close to his wave-length. You don't even notice when you get close, having too much fun getting to know each other and goof around, but Tubbo increasingly slows his steps near an old-looking house.

He turns to you, “Well, this is my stop. I shouldn't take you further or I'll get spanked for not listening to my peers.”

“Uh, I won't respond to that, though I hope everything's alright back at your base. You shouldn't go through child abuse anywhere,” you awkwardly scratch at your neck, handing him the comic books meant for him.

Tubbo light-heartedly laughs at your perplexed self, a jokester-like glint appearing in his eyes as he accepts the papers, “I hope we can meet again.”

“I do, too, and hey. The library can be our place, if you're comfortable enough to call it that,” you heartily smile at him, ruffling his hair and receiving a pouty 'hey! my hair, not yours!'.

He shakes his head to fix your doings, throwing a lop-sided grin, “I can allow that.”

“Well, I should go,” you look up to the sky, seeing the sun brightly shining more to the west side now. It shouldn't be that long before you'll have to get ready for the night and report your findings with Nick. Not like you have much to say to him, but there are some things worth mentioning to him, “I have a friend possibly waiting for me already. It was incredible meeting you, Tubbo!”

“Likewise.”

#technoblade #dream #sapnap #apocalypse au #reader insert #mcyt x reader #mcyt #techno #dream team #dream x reader #dreamwastaken #l'manburg #shadows #??? x reader

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

Text

Mister April

A/N I had an angst-ridden update to the Metric Universe all queued up, and then I thought, nah. The sun is shining, people are getting vaccinated. Angst can wait. So this little ficlet fits into the Metric Universe after The Second First Christmas, but before Calculation Theme.

The entire Metric Universe, now chronologically ordered, can be found here.

March 16, 2019, Spittalfields, London, England

“Wait. You mean you’re actually Mister April?!” Several bottles into the six-pack of Tennant’s lager that he had brought home after work, Claire’s exclamation was too incredulous for Jamie’s liking.

“Aye. Every year since I signed on, save one. At first t’was flattering, but now, weel...” He peeled the label from the bottle held between his knees, cursing the trajectory of their late night conversation. The idea had been to take advantage of the fact they were both off tomorrow to spend some time with his girlfriend, listen to a little music, get a bit sloshed, then hopefully fall into bed together.

“Can I see?” Claire interrupted his momentary sulk. “I mean, I’ve been dating a veritable calendar boy for almost two years, and I’m only just now figuring it out. Seems a bit unfair, don’t you think?”

“Seems to me ye’ve seen me wearing far less, Sassenach. But fine, look yer fill.”

Grabbing his laptop, Jamie entered his name and London Fire Brigade Charity Calendar into a search engine. A stream of results filled the screen. Claire’s eyes goggled and she grabbed the computer, opening the first image. A much younger Jamie appeared, rugby shorts hanging from the graceful arcs of his hipbones. He reminded her of a Thoroughbred race horse, not an ounce of flesh to spare, kinetic energy in masculine form. She checked the date: 2012, before they had ever met.

Further clicks brought her to subsequent years. Each showed a beautiful man in the prime of youth, fit, cocky, a devil-may-care gleam in his cornflower eyes. She knew it was her Jamie, but she barely recognized him.

He was missing from the 2015 calendar. Claire did the math and realized that he would have been in the hospital when that year’s pictures were taken. Instead of primping and smoldering for the camera, he had lain in an ICU bed for weeks, before undergoing painful rehabilitation and numerous skin grafts. The brash young man of the earlier images had disappeared, erased by an industrial explosion in an instant. In his place, the Jamie she knew had emerged. More cautious. More prone to sadness, but with a limitless capacity to spread joy. Would she had fallen for him, had they met before his transformation? She honestly couldn’t say.

By 2016, the pictures had changed. Jamie posed in a shirt, sometimes unbuttoned to the waist, but always with his shoulders covered. The gleam in his eyes had dimmed, and instead of an infectious grin, his smile was forced. She was certain no-one buying the calendar would notice. He was still a beautiful man, with his burnished curls and Nordic bone structure. But she could see what those photos cost him. She knew.

“Dougal wanted me tae show my scars. Figured t’would be good publicity, I reckon. Heroic firefighter burnt like a human candle comes back tae fight fire ano’er day. I told him I wasna some charity case he could trot out when it suited him.”

She fetched his hand from his lap, giving it an understanding squeeze. Jamie had once confessed that he felt comfortable bearing his scars to her alone because she had already seen him at his worst, and that left no room for pity. He was a proud, stubborn fool, and she loved him.

“You know what this means, don’t you? There’s only one way to make this right.”

Not waiting for his response, she rose, sought her balance for a moment, and went to grab her phone. Connecting it to their TV audio, she scrolled her music library, looking for a suitable choice.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, pressing play. A synthetic tambourine and clap bass filled the room. He recognized the opening lines of OutKast’s Way You Move.

“What are ye on about, Sassenach?”

“You’ve been sharing your glorious body with the Greater London area and god know who else on the Internet for years, Jamie. As a philanthropist, I applaud you, but as your girlfriend, I’m a tad perturbed. I am hereby re-asserting my rights to exclusive content. Now stop lollygagging and get your fine ass off the couch.”

“Sassenach...” he laughed, starting to grab hold of her meaning and feeling a shot of adrenaline course through his veins. Even before his accident, he had never...

“Don’t make me put it on repeat, Fraser. Oh, look, here comes the chorus!”

Claire sat back on the sofa, her legs tidily crossed on their coffee table. The room was dark, except for the undying city lights outside. No-one was there to see except the one person he trusted to look without staring, to laugh without mocking, to understand without judging. He’d never known Claire to ask for something she didn’t truly want, and he wanted to give her everything she desired. Even if it came at the expense of his dignity.

“Ye ken I canna dance fer shite, right?” he said as he stood, taking an extra long pull on his lager. He was going to need all the liquid courage it could offer.

“I’m well aware. But as the woman who shares your bed, I can testify that there’s nothing the matter with your sense of rhythm. If it helps, don’t think of it as dancing. Think of it as upright simulated sex.”

His face was already hot from the alcohol and embarrassment, but with Claire’s words he felt the heat spread downwards across his chest and towards his groin. Almost without willing it, his hips began to twitch in time to the beat.

“Now we’re talking!” Claire exclaimed with a grin, leaning back like the only patron at a very private strip club.

He was still dressed for work. The navy shirt he wore beneath his jacket had no buttons, so he began by easing it from under his belt, baring his navel briefly before sliding it back down. Claire sulked dramatically, making him laugh.

With the song’s next horn flourish, he reached behind his neck and lifted the shirt clean off in a single tug, shaking out his hair afterwards. When he next glanced at the couch, his girlfriend’s smug smile was gone, replaced by a blatant leer that sent shivers down his spine. She wasn’t even pretending to look at his face anymore, spending her time somewhere between his shoulders and his waist. He wasn’t really sweating, but he made a point of wiping his pecs before letting the shirt fall to the ground.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, already a tad breathless.

“Immensely. Don’t stop now.”

Fortunately, his boots and socks had already been removed, so with the next verse he made a show of unbuttoning and unzipping his blue trousers. Claire’s eyes followed the movement of his fingers like she was memorizing them for the exam. He could feel his cock grow heavy.

With a shake of his ass for good measure, the pants hit the floor. Only a tight pair of boxer-briefs stood in the way of utter nudity. They were doing a poor job hiding his belated enthusiasm for Claire’s request. The fact that her eyes were now glued to the bulge of his erection only encouraged his excitement.

As the repeated chorus faded away, he carefully slipped the waistband over his now-rigid cock. The material slid down his legs and he stepped free. If someone had mentioned his scars in that instant, he would have no idea what they were talking about.

In the ensuing quiet, Claire sat up and very deliberately began to disrobe. Once naked, she came at him like a heat-seeking missile, one hand reaching around his back to pull him tight and the other dragging him into a kiss. They collapsed to the floor, rolling around on the area rug in a fight for dominance. He let her win, because feeling her rise and fall over his length like a cresting wave was the best runner-up prize he could imagine.

The sex was torrid, and frantic, and not at all polite. The kind that left bruises and invoked daydreams for days. Afterwards, they lay in a sweaty heap, trying to catch their breath.

“See? I knew you had it in you,” Claire muttered into his clavicle. “A bit more practice and you’ll be as good as the pros.”

“I didna realize I was auditioning fer a second job.” He brushed Claire’s curls away from where they were tickling his nose.

“Oh, I have no intention of sharing your talents, lad. Never fear. But I wouldn’t object to a repeat performance. Besides, I was so distracted by the show, I completely forgot to film you!”

Jamie groaned, pulling her tighter against him as sleep called him away to dreams.

#my writing #outlander

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years

Text

Finish That Sentence (M)

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Kitten, when I say ‘No’… it isn’t a suggestion.”

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

➵ Warnings: 18+, Yandere Jimin, Smut, Fingering, Oral (m and f receiving), Edging, Penetrative Sex, Daddy kink (oop), Jimin calls you kitten a lot, Slight Degradation

➵ Word Count: 4K

➵ Masterlist

“I’m sorry, what did you just say, kitten?”

You swallowed hard, willing your hands to remain steady as you clenched them by your sides. Don’t give in, you told yourself, stifling the urge to just surrender and beg for mercy. You’re in the right.

“I-I said,” You stammered, flushing when he smirked at your undeniable nerves. You cleared your throat and made another attempt, hoping in the brief time passed since you last opened your mouth you had somehow grown a backbone.

“I said… I want to go out tonight.”

“Oh. Well, of course, kitten.” Jimin replied smoothly, and you knew it had been too easy, you couldn’t relax just yet. “Where do you want me to take you?”

“Actually, um…” You hesitated, and your boyfriend raised a mocking brow.

“Go on, baby, I’m waiting.”

You took a fortifying breath, before letting it all cascade out of you.

“I want to go to a friend’s party and it’s at a club and I don’t want you to come.”

Your breath ran dry. Jimin’s jaw muscles jumped under smooth skin. He rose from where he was reclined on the couch, standing up so that the two of you were eye to eye.

You could see every ounce of restraint weighing down his muscles, slowing his arm to a glacial pace as he tucked his index finger under your chin. But, in those eyes, there was a rage swirling in the depths which you often glimpsed but never submerged yourself in. You wondered if this was the night where you would finally get the chance to drown.

When he opened his mouth again, you could taste the anger dripping past those sinful lips.

“No.”

In that one word were a thousand utterances, a thousand missed opportunities to have fun with your friends who you missed so much, and all because of him. You had rolled over and played dead so many times, but you have had enough.

“Yes.” You snapped, and his eyes widened, in danger of revealing the roiling currents of fury underneath the placid surface.

“Kitten, when I say No… it isn’t a suggestion.”

“Good, I didn’t ask for one.”

Your back ached as Jimin slammed you against the wall. His hand — which had slipped behind to cradle your head, preventing injury — came down to encircle your throat, while his other busied itself restraining your wrists above your head. You had no choice but to arch into him in discomfort. He pressed his body against yours, revelling in your small whimpers.

“Kitten thinks she calls the shots, huh?” Jimin asked patronisingly, before grinding against you. You thrashed in his hold defiantly, even as a part of you went molten beneath his body heat. “You think you can speak like that? To me?”

“You say worse things to me every- oh!” Your breath hitched as his teeth dug into that sensitive spot below your ear. You felt him smirk against your heated skin, a huff of laughter at your choked moan as he rolled his hips against you once more.

“That’s because I’m in charge, kitten. You’re mine. You have to show me some respect.”

That comment drove you over the edge.

“I’m- you- get off of me!” You shoved him away, making no effort to help him as he stumbled back, eyes hooded and lips swollen from the effort to carve his ownership into the bruises on your neck. Surprisingly, he didn’t attempt to plaster himself on you again. He merely watched as you tugged your shirt back into place, smoothing your hair down with a trembling hand.

“I am not your property.” You stated, annoyance flaring as Jimin chuckled. “I can… I can do what I want. I’m an adult. You can’t just tell me what to do or I swear to god I’ll-”

I’ll break up with you.

The threat had been on the tip of your tongue when his eyes met yours. And there it withered, died, and blew away on the wind. You had been right. Tonight would be the night you drowned in Park Jimin.

His rage was no longer on a leash. It sunk itself into his muscles as he prowled towards you, step by step, until you were voluntarily pressing yourself against the wall in an effort to evade him. He paused a hairsbreadth away from you, close enough to feel the tension of each coiled muscle, pulled taut and waiting to pounce.

“Or you’ll what?” He breathed, and you flinched. The corner of his lips tugged upwards, and a finger trailed delicately along your cheekbone. Soothing the lamb before the slaughter. “C’mon kitten, what’re you gonna do, hmm?”

“I-I… uhm-”

“Go on, finish that sentence.”

His finger tensed, the nail cutting into your skin.

“I…” You hesitated, before closing your eyes and swallowing your pride in one rancid gulp. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to go. You were right.”

His gaze flickered with satisfaction, but it was not enough to temper the overwhelming wrath which swum in the depths of his dark eyes.

“That’s not what you were going to say, is it, kitten?” He leaned in to run his nose along the column of your throat, making you whimper slightly as he put pressure on the capillaries he had burst with his possessive kisses. “Say what you want to say, like I told you to. It’s okay, I won’t get mad.”

You’re already mad, you would’ve said if his teeth weren’t so close to your jugular.

“I was going to say… that I would… b-break up with you.” You whispered, and his entire body tensed. “B-But I didn’t mean it!” You hastened to add, reaching for his hands and clutching them desperately, “I wouldn’t really break up with you! It was a lie! I’m sorry!”

“Good girls don’t lie.” Jimin replied eventually, his voice devoid of all emotion even as his eyes screamed bloody murder. “You must be mistaken. Good girls don’t lie and I know you’re my good girl.”

“I am your good girl.” You responded frantically, gripping his unresponsive hands as if you could force your sincerity in through skin contact, “I’m your good girl and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I was just being stupid!”

“Well at least you didn’t lie about that.” Jimin looked up at you, eyes twinkling with sardonic satisfaction. “You are stupid if you ever think you could leave me and get away with it.”

The world tilted on its axis and it took you a few moments to realise Jimin had tossed you over his shoulder. You went limp, resigning yourself to the punishments you were bound to endure. Whatever it was, you just had to take it, it would be easier for you that way.

It was difficult to navigate your apartment upside down. It was also unnecessary. You knew where Jimin was taking you. Sure enough, after a few moments of breathless disorientation, Jimin flung you down on your shared bed, remaining at the foot, watching with dark eyes as you tried to rearrange yourself into some semblance of dignity.

“You lied about wanting to leave me.” Jimin’s voice was cutting, like it always was when he found a reason to punish you. And, inexorably, you had to submit to him.

“Yes.”

“But we already know that good girls don’t lie. What does that make you, kitten?”

Your mouth went dry. You knew what he wanted.

“I-I’m a bad girl, Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He repeated, and you belatedly realised your mistake as he strode around the bed and wound a hand in your hair, yanking it back ruthlessly.

“Daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”

“What are you, kitten?” He asked again, and you held back a sob. You liked it so much better when he was kind to you.

“I’m a bad girl, daddy.”

“And what do bad girls deserve?”

“…Bad girls deserve to be punished, daddy.”

He leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours until the tips of your noses almost brushed. If you had been good, Jimin would have maybe kissed the tip of your nose, making you both giggle. But you hadn’t been good. You had been bad, and now you were being forced to reap what you had sown.

“Do you think you deserve a punishment, kitten?”

No! All you had wanted to do was go out and meet your friends, there was nothing wrong with-

Jimin yanked your hair again and you gasped, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“Y-Yes, I deserve a punishment, daddy.”

“Use your manners, kitten, c’mon. Ask nicely.” He hissed, and you nodded obediently, as much as you could with his grip still painfully tight in your hair.

“Please, daddy, punish me. I’ve been a bad girl. I deserve it. Please.”

“Well done, kitten.”

You resented the fact that you blushed at his praise, something which made him snicker, trailing a hand down your reddened cheeks.

“So eager,” He murmured, cupping your jaw for a second before he shoved you away.

“Hands up,” He commanded, and you slipped into the familiar motions, raising your crossed wrists to the headboard where you knew a pair of restraints were affixed. Jimin made quick work of your hands, electing not to bind your ankles, arranging your body as he wished.

After five minutes, your clothes had been removed whilst Jimin remained fully dressed, gazing at you with dark eyes. He had positioned you sat up against the headboard — to which you were tied — with legs spread wide open for his convenience.

Your cheeks burned as he climbed onto the bed, unable to stop the instinctual clenching of your legs together. He gripped your ankles and ruthlessly tugged them apart again, laughing cruelly as you squirmed.

“Now, now, kitten, don’t move. You look so pretty like this.” He breathed, eyes fixed firmly on your core which, to your embarrassment, was practically dripping on the bedsheets.

“Sorry, daddy.” You whined, twisting your wrists against their ties restlessly, appreciating the slight burn which kept you rooted in reality.

“So polite, baby, aren’t you?” Jimin smirked, still making no move to touch you, “Where were these manners earlier, hmm? Or, is this what you wanted all along?”

“Yes,” You whispered, trying to wrap your legs around Jimin’s waist and tug him closer, to his amusement, “Daddy, please, touch-”

“Oh, baby wants me to touch her?” He laughed at your insistent nod, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” You babbled, sinking fully into the headspace, “I’ll do anything, daddy, I want to such your cock, I want you to fuck me, please, anything-”

Your speech melted into a high-pitched whine as Jimin shoved a finger in you without warning. Though his digits weren’t very long, they were thick, and you could feel each knuckle as his finger sunk into you, stretching you out crudely.

“You’re so wet,” Jimin chuckled, crooking his finger in a way that made you see stars, “God, I could just fuck you right now, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, please dadd- ah!” You moaned as Jimin added another finger, scissoring them within you and making you feel so deliciously full.

It must have made quite a sight. Jimin, in slacks and a black button down with the forearms rolled up, viciously pumping his fingers into your naked writhing form, already starting to glisten with sweat.

By the time he added a third finger, you were gone. He kept rubbing insistently over the bundle of nerves within you, and each time his fingers were buried to the hilt, he would roll his thumb on your clit, making you clench tight on him over and over again.

“Jimin, I’m going to- oh please, ah, let me come, daddy, please?”

Jimin hummed, sitting back on his heels as he seemed to mull over the question, all the while pumping his fingers viciously into your tight hole. You tried to roll your hips onto his hand, meeting his thrusts, but he braced his other hand over your hips, pinning you down so you were forced to just lie there helplessly and take whatever he gave you.

“Daddy, I’m-” You started to convulse as you felt the familiar tug at your belly button, the pleasure building within you and about to overflow, and Jimin yanked his fingers out of you abruptly.

You whined as you felt the cool air brush against your empty hole, close to tears as the blinding pleasure of the orgasm dissipated, leaving behind an uncomfortable sensitivity.

“Daddy,” You moaned, kicking your legs petulantly, “I was about to come.”

“Only good girls get to come, kitten.” Jimin stated, and you felt like you were about to cry.

“I am a good girl!”

“Oh, really?” He asked, eyebrow cocked at your pathetic form, lying prone on the bed.

“Yes, I promise, daddy, I’m good.”

“Okay, then.” Jimin murmured, unconvinced, bringing his fingers covered with your slick up to your mouth. “Suck.”

You took them into your mouth obediently, bobbing your head up and down, letting your tongue dart out to lick at his knuckles. He shoved them into your mouth suddenly, and you gagged, but didn’t pull off. He cooed at you as tears began to brim at your eyes.

“Oh, kitten. You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you? So eager to have something in your mouth, poor baby.” Jimin cooed, and you whined pitifully around his fingers. “I’m going to untie your wrists now. Is that okay, baby girl?”

You nodded obediently, leaning back as he fiddled with the restraints. He captured your mouth in a filthy kiss as he did so, jamming his tongue into your mouth and twisting it sinuously around yours as if he was trying to taste the arousal you had licked off his fingers.

You let out a groan of relief as your wrists were finally free and Jimin snickered, eyes shining with satisfaction as you rubbed the red marks. He sat back against the headboard, directing you into a position lying on your front between his legs.

“Take my trousers off, baby.” He commanded, and you obeyed quickly, unzipping the slacks and tugging them down. Through his briefs, you could see the bulge of his erection, thick and hard, a slight wet spot where his precome had pressed against the fabric. You flushed with pride at the thought that just fingering you had made him so aroused.

“You have to take off my briefs now, kitten.” Jimin said, almost amused since you had just been staring at his cock for the last minute, trailing your hand up and down his muscular thigh distractedly. At his command, you nodded hurriedly and pulled them off, finally allowing his erection to spring free.

You licked your lips, and Jimin laughed.

“So fucking desperate, aren’t you kitten? What a dirty slut my baby is.”

“Yes,” You mindlessly agreed, “Your baby.”

Jimin took himself into his hand, hissing slightly at the contact, and slapped his cock against your face. You whined, trying to chase it with your mouth, and he finally gave in.

“Okay, open up baby.” He murmured — unnecessary since your mouth was already wide open — taking hold of your jaw with one hand and using the other to feed you his cock.

Immediately, you took him in down to the base, nose brushing against the spare hair as your throat contracted around him frantically, trying to swallow. His fingers wound into your hair tightly, and he began guiding you up and down his length, using your throat as a cocksleeve.

“God, so fucking-” Jimin grunted, dropping his head back as you gagged around him, “So fucking perfect, kitten. My perfect baby slut. Take me so- ungh - so well.”

You moaned around his length, both at the praise and the feel of him, heavy on your tongue.

The knowledge that you were being used to chase Jimin’s selfish release made you slip even further into headspace, where everything was a hazy mess of overwhelming pleasure and stinging pain. You could feel the urge to come, which had cruelly receded as fast as it arrived, slowly flowing back into you.

Jimin braced both legs against the bed bracketing your head, giving no warning before he began thrusting harshly into your throat. He held your head steady as his hips pistoned into you, groaning as you whimpered and spluttered around him, tears running down your flushed face like a river.

You had no chance to breathe, and when you were light-headed enough that you truly thought you were about to faint, Jimin yanked himself out of you. You weren’t allowed to slump against his thigh like you would’ve liked, as Jimin held your face in place as he came, strokes of white decorating your tongue, cheeks and even your forehead.

You stayed there, eyes closed, until Jimin released you and you collapsed against his leg with a gasp. His fingers stroked through your hair distractedly as your and his pants mingled in the heady air.

“So good, baby.” He praised you softly, and you whimpered. “Do you want daddy to take care of you?”

“Yes, please, daddy.” You begged, excitement starting to reenergise you as Jimin tugged you up the bed.

“Such a polite little girl,” He mused, smiling as he watched you shuffle into place, lazily unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside.

“You’re my baby girl, right, kitten?” Jimin purred, and you echoed back mindlessly.

“Yours, daddy, your good girl.”

Jimin swiped a finger through the still-wet come on your face, lifting it again to your swollen lips.

“Suck, but don’t swallow.” He instructed you firmly, and you nodded, eagerly taking the finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the familiar bitter taste.

Once Jimin had fed you all the come that had lingered on your face, he leaned in for a filthy kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, collecting all the come he had made you keep like some sort of pet. As soon as he pulled away, leaving you breathless, he shot you a cocky smirk — even with his mouth full — and lurched down to your core.

He fucked you with his tongue, spearing the muscle with sharp motions, drawing out a truly unholy sound as he spat back his own come into you. The feel of it, wet and filthy and degrading, made you clench around thin air. Though, Jimin soon remedied that. He plunged two fingers back into you down to the last knuckle, leaning up slightly to suck your clit.

“Ah, fuck, daddy!” You cried, back arching as Jimin added another finger just as he laved his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “P-Please, oh, fuck me, please.”

“You like that?” Jimin purred, his lips glazed with your slick and come, “You like being daddy’s little cumslut? My own personal fuckdoll?”

At his crude words, Jimin shoved another finger into you, meaning he was pumping almost his whole hand into your tight hole as you moaned and cried. Tears were running down your face from the stimulation, but Jimin just didn’t let up.

“Yes, I’m- ah, I’m your fuckdoll! Daddy, please, m’gonna, oh, m’gonna come.”

Jimin pulled his mouth away from you to give your core a sharp spank. You jerked away from him, but couldn’t put up much resistance when he tugged you back.

“You aren’t going to come unless it’s on my cock, understand, kitten?”

You whimpered pitifully, and his voice softened.

“Does my angel want to be fucked now?”

“Yes,’ You sobbed, clutching at him desperately, trying to pull him up, “Please, daddy, I’m- m’your angel, please.”

“Okay, kitten.” He smiled at you benevolently, wiping his slick-covered face on the bedsheet before pushing himself up on his forearms and crawling up the bed to you.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as soon as you could, tugging him close until your rapidly rising chests were touching. He captured you in a kiss, slanting his mouth against yours in a way that made your toes curl, swiping his tongue into you possessively. You gave into him with ease.

When you felt his head nudge at your entrance, you whimpered against his mouth, but instead of rejoining your lips like you had expected, Jimin pulled away completely. Ignoring your protests, he sat himself up on his knees, lifting your hips until they rested on the top of his thighs.

He gripped you firmly, stopping you from any attempt to roll your hips, so his cock was infuriatingly just out of reach, though every so often he would shift and the forehead would brush your clit, making you moan pathetically.

“Daddy,” You whimpered, so close to release and yet so far, “Please, fuck me. Please.”

“You’ll never say anything like that again, right baby?” Though his voice was soft, his eyes were merciless as they watched you writhe in desperation.

“Say what? Daddy, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re… just- please-”

“You’ll never disobey me.” He stated, and you shook your head fervently.

“Never, I promise!”

“You’ll never ask to go to a club without me.”

“I won’t! I don’t want to go anywhere without you daddy, I’m sorry.”

“You’ll never…” He hesitated, his voice cracking slightly as he repeated, “You’ll never threaten to break up with me.”

You gasped, the arousal building in you becoming more painful by the second.

“I won’t! I won’t! I’m yours, daddy, only yours!”

Jimin smiled.

“There’s my good girl.”

When he rolled his hips into you, you saw stars.

He was so thick, filling you so completely. He picked up your hips and started pounding into you right away, thigh muscles bunching as he shoved himself into your tight heat over and over again.

“Feel so good around my cock, baby.” He grunted, hands painfully tight on your hips. You hoped he left bruises, “So perfect, you were made for me. Made to take my come, like a good little slut.”

“M’your slut,” You babbled, mouth hanging open as Jimin fucked you brutally, “Please, daddy, touch-”

“Of course, baby.” Jimin murmured, moving his thumb inwards slightly to press against your clit as his cock stretched you out.

“I’m- daddy, can I- oh, can I please come?” Your eyes rolled back in your head as Jimin angled your hips slightly different and began a volley of thrusts that battered directly against that spot that made red-hot pleasure coil in your gut, “Please, I wanna come on your cock, wanna be yours, daddy please.”

“Such a good girl,” Jimin groaned, falling onto his forearms and grinding his cock into you, “Yes, go on, baby, come. Come on daddy’s cock.”

At his permission, you let yourself go, writhing on him as your vision blanked out. He rode through your orgasm, pressing his cock into you in slow, maddening circles before letting his own come spill into you as well.

The two of you collapsed against the bed, uncaring of how sweaty and gross you were, simply panting to get your breath back.

“Jimin?” You managed to get out, and he propped his chin up on your chest, a lazy, satisfied smile on his face.

“I- You know I didn’t mean it, right?”

“The break up thing?” He questioned, as if it could be anything else, and you nodded. A little huff of laughter brushed your chin.

“Well, that’s good to hear, baby, but I know you didn’t. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter.”

“It wouldn’t?” You asked, and a devilish smirk painted itself across his features.

“No matter what you say or try to do, I’ll never let you get away from me.”

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

the candid photos from amber eyes | kuroo tetsurou

synopsis: in which you find yourself traveling with a group, thinking about the reasons of what it is that makes you love traveling, and meet a photographer with a kind smile whose eyes glowed under the bumps of light on a bus ride home.

characters: kuroo tetsurou, you

genre: fluff, travel!au

wc: 1400+

a/n: this is req #20 for stories in passing, for @haiikyuuns <3

You met Kuroo Tetsurou after answering the tour guide’s question of “what do you like most about traveling?”

This was one of your favorite parts of traveling with a group, you realize. Listening to stories and experiences about the world alike.

“I like to experience culture,” one said, and you noticed it was the younger looking blonde from the front of the group. She seemed to be just staring out. A heavily highlighted bullet journal, a roomy looking backpack, and the telltale DSLR with the extra big lens hanging from her neck.

You smiled; you could recall when you were just starting out and craved to capture the smallest details. Photographs were one of the best souvenirs, after all.

“My favorite part is the documentation,” the boy across you chimes in, raising up his camera with a laugh.

He smiles in a way that had you a little blinded.

“If you want some good photos, feel free to hit me up,” he finishes, smiling when the middle aged ladies standing next to him clapped him on the shoulder, undoubtedly planning to take him up on his offer.

“You okay with me taking random pictures?” he asks the crowd, who nods at his question before he turns to you, his smile still intact.

“And you?”

Shrugging at his question, you offer the expectant gazes a sheepish smile as a response. He didn’t seem to do any harm; plus, you always forgot to take photos during your travels, so you look at him and nod.

“Just make sure you take photos of the pretty stuff,” you laugh.

Across you, he beams. You suppose you’d have to hold him on to his promise as well.

It isn’t until a few hours into the guided tour that he takes the seat next to you on the bus ride home and strikes a conversation.

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” he smiles, holding out his hand for you to shake.

“(y/n),” you reply, shaking his hand.

“So,” he begins. “Has your answer from the question earlier changed at all?”

You stare at him, a little confused by what he meant until you eventually recall the tour guide’s words from earlier. Kuroo doesn’t stare straight at you, but rather right past you. You can tell he’s staring at the passing scenery on the window from the way his fingers hover over the shutter button of his camera that’s shut off.

Smiling to yourself, first, you recall his words. He liked documentation the best, apparently.

So with that thought in mind, you let yourself stare at his profile and begin to ponder.

“What’s your favorite part about traveling?” the question echoes in your mind. And you grin, softly, because you’ve always felt like you had an answer.

But in your case answer was more of a feeling instead of a statement. Traveling was something you’ve personally enjoyed doing—from the struggle of writing itineraries, the experience itself, and most importantly, to the tiny moments of serendipity that comes along the way.

At the same time, it was the people that made you want to seek more edges of the world to walk across. The locals and travelers alike—they made immersing yourself in the foreign sense of normalcy interesting at the very least.

There was something oddly intimate about creating connections with those you know may not be lasting. Then again, that was a case for every connection you’re bound to make in every lifetime—consistency is never promised. But when you travel, meet, then connect—the sense of yearning is only amplified.

You come to a realization that you seeked for that.

So as you stare at Kuroo, a stranger you just met at the tour some hours ago, you think about the question again and again willing yourself to form words for the feelings you know serve as your answer.

“You’re staring,” he laughs, then runs a hand through his hair when his question passes you.

Kuroo knows that look.

He sees it in every candid portrait he takes of every muse that’s caught his eye in the foreign cities he’s traveled to. He describes it as the look you have when you lose yourself in a state of just awe.

He’s well aware he’s had that same look on his face too. At every ancient pillar he’s standing in the presence of, in front of every shrine he’s only ever read about in travel magazines in his youth, and at every epiphany that’s struck and stuck with him over the footprints he leaves across continents.

“You have an answer don’t you?” he asks, and offers you a smile when you mutter a quick apology.

Laughing, you turn to face him instead of the window with the running image of scenery. The light hits him well, you think. The amber in his eyes almost look like solid gold, and it gleams of something unspoken.

So you smile. And almost immediately as the bus turns and the light’s angle changes, you see the words form in your mouth as Kuroo grins with the momentary burst of light that flood in the bus from your side of the window.

“I travel because the people I meet show the most beautiful stories,” you say like you’re exhaling a breath you’ve long held on to.

“Fitting,” Kuroo responds, leaning back to his seat and facing the front.

“So you leaving for home tomorrow?” he asks, breaking the short bit of silence between the two of you.

Nodding at his question, you respond, “Yeah. Packing up tonight. Early flight tomorrow.”

Beside you, he huffs lightly, knocking his shoulder against yours. ”We just met today, we didn’t get to bond enough.”

“See you in the next country, maybe?” you laugh, smiling at him when he laughs at your response.

“That sounds like a line a character says when they break up with someone they meet abroad,” Kuroo comments, laughing.

“I mean, you never know!” you exclaim.

“So I guess I guess after today we should, we should just say goodbye forever?” he says, nodding to himself like he wasn’t directing his question towards you.

“Social media exists,” you chime, rolling your eyes jokingly.

“Ah, is this your way of slyly asking for my contact info?” he teases. “So you can, as the kids say, slide into my DMs?”

You laugh at his choice of words; he seems to be rather proud of them too by the way he’s closing his eyes and nodding to himself.

“You talk like you’re not in your twenties,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Also, I was only going to ask for them because you did say you were going to take pictures. I always forget to take photos when I travel, so I figured since you offered might as well leech off of yours.”

“Is this the feeling of just being used?” Kuroo beside you groans, one hand on his chest in mock sadness.

Moments later, he laughs when you hand him your phone, telling him to save his contact details.

“But seriously,” he starts, after he hands you back your phone.

The bus turns again and the angle is bending the light in the way that hits the amber in his eyes again, and it looks so ethereal that you find yourself subconsciously holding your breath when he locks his eyes with yours.

“If we see each other in another corner of the world, then maybe we could grab dinner or something?” he finishes, grinning.

You smile, feeling a little bold.

“We’ll see.”

It isn’t until you’re at the airport early in the morning at 6am sipping a cup of something hot that always does the trick and perks you up for the day where your phone chimes with a message.

Kuroo’s face flashes on the screen and you smile at the message pinned with the attachments of what you could guess were the photos he took. Opening them, you laugh when you notice a huge majority of them were mostly candid shots of you, along with the scenic photos you asked him for.

Not once did you look at the camera too; always just looking somewhere far off. But the expression on your face was the same: one where your mouth was a little parted and your eyes twinkled with something you could only guess was awe.

“I thought I told you to make sure to only take photos of the beautiful stuff,” you text him next to the thank you for the photos.

Kuroo’s text comes in a lot sooner for someone you expected to still be asleep during this hour, but his response has you smiling none the less.

“I did :)”

To him, the candids of you were the most beautiful in his camera roll that day.

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little-dragon-stories · 4 years

Text

Theater night

Your super mega star boyfriend has decided to take you out to the movies.

WC: 3647

Warning: None.

Genre: Fluffy scenario pairing Kwon JiYong and female reader.

Note: I had this idea and needed to write it immediately. I wanted it to be a drabble, LOL. This is so fluffy and cute, I melted writing it. I hope you’ll enjoy it

Jeez... I cannot put the read more WHERE I want it. Sorry...

+++++ +++++ +++++ +++++

“... it was… Seunghyun hyung… the keyboard… I swear…”

Each word was scattered with a sonorous laugh. Clearly, the situation seemed to amuse him a lot since he had to take breaks to catch his breath. Yet, you only discerned a few words here and there. Your attention was elsewhere. You were fascinated by a cute old couple who were bickering lovingly outside, not so far to the SUV in which you were taking a seat.

A driver was bringing you home after Ji’s work. He had invited you to listen to his new tracks. He needed to have his girl by his side today, he felt clingy. He felt unsure. He needed to have his hand secure on your lap as he continued composing. To see your smile and to steal a kiss from time to time. You were more than happy to come in his studio with kimbap and wine and be that supportive help he needed today, right after your short shift. Your hard working man was tired recently, he was working hard to compose new songs and shoot commercials.

“Baby...what are you looking at?” he leaned over you to look through your window. He saw nothing out of the ordinary but looking up at you, he found a dreamy look on your face. You were smiling fondly.

Following your gaze, he noticed a couple that seemed to argue about who should carry the grocery bags, the woman making gestures to take them. The man retreated as soon as she stepped towards the bags, dodged her hands and smiled at his sweetheart. Shaking her head, she smiled and seemed to let go. She finally leaned against him, taking his arm under her.

The scene seemed innocuous, but the look you had on them was so intense, Ji felt bad for a few moments. What if you were already tired to date an idol? What if you missed doing “normal” stuff with your boyfriend? He cannot grocery shop with you. He tried this once, before he met you. A crowd built up around him and in 2 minutes, he was surrounded by crying and screaming fans wanting to touch him. One had even passed out. He never felt so uncomfortable in his entire life.

Doing normal stuff for Kwon Jiyong was just impossible.

You knew who he was when you met, you were working for YG. You never complained about it or mentioned that you would like to ‘walk on the street hand in hand like normal people do’. He had heard it a couple of times, in his previous relationships. Dating an idol was certainly not easy. Dating GD was probably the worst case scenario.

“Hey, you” you said as you bopped his nose “What are you doing on my side?” you cupped his cheeks and pecked his lips softly.

“I wanted to see what you were looking at. You seemed far, far away in your thoughts”. His hand found your waist and rested there.

“Ah, really? I didn’t realize. I think I’m a bit tired today, I cannot concentrate. I’m sorry Jiyongie, what were you talking about?”

With a touch of anxiety growing deep in his stomach, he told you again how Tabi had been lectured by a sound technician for spilling his drink on the studio computers. You were both still laughing your ass off when you entered his apartment building by the back door. Hand in hand as always when you were sure not to get caught.

+++ +++ +++

“I’m telling you Youngbae, I’m about to lose her. You know how unlucky I am with my love life”. He told his best friend in the studio the morning after. He was holding his head with both hands, afraid that he might disappoint you one day. Or worst, lose you.

“I don’t think so, hyung. She seems very in love with you”.

“But the way she looked at them, she had a dreamy look on her face. I’m sure she wants an easier life, with someone who could go shopping with her and you know, do stuff that normal couples do”.

“Talk to her, check if it’s something she needs. But I see the way you are together, last time was just yesterday. She was radiant. She took the time to listen to your tracks at least 15 times each. She even laughed at all your nonsense. I am sure that the girl I saw yesterday is still madly in love with you. Like the first time I saw her, if not more”.

“You sure, bro?”

“Yes, bro. But talk to her”.

“I might… I love her, you know? I really think she’s the one. Even A-Ye loves her, that’s for say”.

“Man, she’s really the one, then”.

Jiyong felt relieved after his conversation with his best friend. After all, it was true. Last night as you came back home, you were the one who invited him for a shared shower. You had shampoo his hair softly the second he complained about how tired he was. He was so exhausted, he had a bad headache that put him to bed almost after the shower. Until you fell asleep, you put ice on his forehead to make sure he would be comfortable. You applied tiger balm on his temples when he was about to sleep. You had held him in your arms closely, caressing his back and hair and dropping a kiss here and there. You had laughed tenderly when he was whining, mocking him. You, indeed, acted like a woman in love. At the very least, willing to stay with him when he was at his worst. If this is not love, he wonders what it might be.

But what if you were starting to get tired of being with an idol? What if you want to fight over grocery bags too, on the sidewalk. What if you would like to kiss your boyfriend in the middle of the street instead of living in his shadows, pretending like you don’t know each other when you meet at YG?

“Nah… I have to do something. I cannot lose her. I love her too much”, he thought for himself. “Let’s do something that normal couples do…”

+++ +++ +++

(Jiyong) Love, let’s have a date tonight!

(You) YEAH!!!!!

(You) But you’re sure? You’re working so hard this week, you have time? <3<3<3

(You) Is your head better?

(Jiyong) for you, I have all the time in the world and thanks to your caring attention, I feel better this morning.

(You) aaaaw! I don’t deserve you <3<3<3

(Jiyong) Dress casual, like really casual.

(You) Woah! WOW! (Yes, in caps…) a date with you, casually dressed? I’m concerned now! What’s going on? You’re ok? Might be meningitis :) :) :)

(Jiyong) Just dress casual, would you? And don’t sass me.

(You) Ji… I love you too much not to sass your ass :)

(Jiyong) OMG! I love you too.

(You) Can I sleep at your place after? *puppy eyes* NO NO NO *wink wink*

(Jiyong) You’re so dumb… But I love you like that. No, this time, I will sleep at yours.

(You) What? Ji, my building is not secured. What’s going on?

(You) Oh! my god! You want to break up…

(You) You will dump me so why bother getting dressed? And at least I will be home already… Is that it?

(Jiyong) No pabo, why would you think something like that? I don’t want to break up, I want to bring my girl on a casual date and sleep in HER bed. In HER smell. That’s all.

(You) Ok baby. I’m a little nervous tho, not gonna lie.

(Jiyong) I can be casual… you just didn’t see me like that yet, that’s all. Gotta go, love. Take care ok? And I can’t wait for our date.

(You) I love you. I love you. I love you.

(You) Miss me a lot today, ok?

(Jiyong) You want me to be sad and unhappy?

(You) No but when you miss me during the day, you’re glued to me afterwards. I love your clingy ass. I love when you hug me all night long <3 <3 <3 <3

(Jiyong) I’m the lucky one in this relationship, you just proved it once again. Love you. Yes, I’ll miss you even tho, I won’t have time to think. Gotta go

(You) *hides in a corner to cry over your cuteness*

(Jiyong) xxxxxx whereever you want *wink wink*

(You) OMG I’m blushing… On my neck then <3 <3<3<3<3

+++ +++ +++

You were sitting in the SUV. You had chosen to wear a long sleeveless white linen blouse, over tight ripped blue jeans and baskets. You had put on a few long necklaces around your neck, including one that you had ‘found’ on Jiyong's dresser. He had stated that this Chanel jewel looked much better on you than it did on him, that the way it came down and rested between your breasts was so pretty that he had no choice but to give it to you. You won't complain, you loved this jewel, it made you feel beautiful and sexy. Desirable since your man liked to see you wearing it.

Contrary to his habits, Jiyong walked towards you and opened the door on your side. He snuck his head inside the car and kissed you. You welcomed him with a smile and framed his cheeks.

“Hello baby!”

“You’ll be happy, I’ve missed you a lot today. I was impatient for our date”. His hands slid down your arm and he unbuckled your seat belt. “We’re not taking the car, we’ll walk over there. Ok?”

“Ji… It’s not a good idea. Your security is…”

“I’ve found a way. You’ll see. Get out of this car and hug your needy man”

He gave instructions to his driver and manager and sent them home for the rest of the evening. He took your hand and lured you into a dark corner of the building where a backpack laid on the ground. Hid there, he took you in his arms and hugged you tightly, humming your hair.

“You smell so good love. I really missed you today, I’m not even lying”.

“I missed you too. Sometimes, I miss you so much, I can’t concentrate on my work”.

“Same here… same! We’re so fond of each other”

“We are, right?” you asked with your big puppy eyes looking up at him. He couldn’t resist and peppered your face with soft kisses. He smelled mint and cinnamon, he had just brushed his teeth.

“So, love… Wanna watch (the last movie in the theater that you wanted to watch) with me?”

“Yes, I can’t wait to watch it with you”

“Let’s go, then”

“What? Where? It’s in theater right now”

“I know… Theater night for my girl. We’ll grab something to eat on our way there. You know, this food truck you keep looking at? We’ll grab something there”

“But, you’re my mega super star boyfriend… we cannot do that!”

He leaned and grabbed the backpack on the floor. Inside of it were a wig, a facemask, sunglasses and a big sweater despite the heat of the summer. He even borrowed a super opaque foundation to hide the ink that could be still visible despite the disguise. Specifically, the wings of the angel on his neck and the smiley on his thumb.

“See the plan, love? I will be unrecognizable”

“Oooh, baby! I’m not feeling it! I’m scared you will be in danger”

“Nah, I’ll be just fine. Plus, you’ll protect me, right?” he beamed proudly.

You burst out laughing.

“Aaaaw, Ji! You’re so cute. You wanted to do something casual tonight? This is unusual but ok, I guess! I’m in. I will be watching over people tho, if I smell the tiniest danger, I’ll drag us out. Got it?”

“Yes. Security first”.

“Show me what you will look like, with this woman wig”

Hand in hand, you walked your way to the nearest theater. He was constantly looking at you. Even though he was wearing a mask and shades, you knew he was smiling wide. You could imagine his beautiful upper lip curling up, almost disappearing as his gums flashed. You missed that smile. You missed his eyes. You missed his kisses. But he seemed happy and for you, it meant the world.

“I’ll order so no one will recognise your voice” you said in line to order greek food.

“Ok, but use my card to pay”.

“Nah… It’s the first time ever I can afford a date with you, let me pay please” you said as a joke. But it hits him hard. He never wanted you to feel inferior or poorer or anything less than him.

“I’m sorry, love” he said but you didn’t hear. It was your turn to order the delicious food.

What you love about street food is that there is no delay. You order and it’s ready. Taking out his mask to eat, you saw the face of the girl next to you. She was wondering if he was GDragon, analysing him. When she unpocked her phone and innocently pointed the camera towards you, acting like nothing was happening but clearly looking at Ji, you were not happy anymore.

“Let’s eat as we walk” you told him to take him out of there even though she seemed armless.

You had to take a longer road, the girl has started to follow you. Fortunately, you succeeded in hiding from her and her camera and were able to go to the cinema without more incidents.

“Do you think I’ll do the front page of gossip magazines tomorrow?”

“I’d say, more likely tonight!”

He laughed, not outraged by that at all. Bigbang were not strangers to scandals, Jiyong being caught on a date, disguised, would be the less outrageous one.

“Are you happy love? You seem nervous” he asked just before the film started.

“When I’m with you, I’m always happy. But, yes I’m nervous” you murmured in his ear. He wanted to ask something but the man on his back “ssssh’ at him. He was a little upset, not so used to the etiquette in a theater. His low “why so rude” with a cute little invisible pout made your heart flustered.

You curled your fingers with his and your hands clamped together. You leaned your head against his shoulder. He was trying to stay as far as possible from the person on his other side, almost sitting on your laps. The shy man he is, was never comfortable with the presence of a crown, unless he was on a stage. Even less, when they were sitting that close and when he felt trapped. But despite his uncomfort, he wanted to do something casual with you and your heart melted.

There was another habit of his that was not “theater friendly”. He couldn’t never stop talking to you during a movie. Normally, when the movie starts and he gets into it, he keeps asking questions as if you know more than him. He did a couple of times but people around made faces or just asked him to shut up, not so politely. It was funny to see his upset eyes, each time. The theater was not his element and it became clear for you why he did this.

“You love the…” he started, again, before you put your index on his mouth.

“Shh baby… shhh.” you smiled at him fondly.

“This is so hard…”

You laughed but unfortunately, it was a sad sequence in the film. People around looked at you and you felt awkward.

You looked at him and analysed his attitude. He seemed uncomfortable, stressed. To be honest, the way he twingled on the chair, it was almost like he needed to pee. Without a word, you grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the room.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh… don’t speak. I don’t want those ladies to recognise your voice” you said, pointing at a bunch of teens with Bigbang t-shirts in the hallway. “Follow me”.

You went out of the theater and as soon as you could, you hid in the corner of a building. A dark spot where you both could talk peacefully for a moment.

“Ji… why did you really bring me there. Clearly, you don’t enjoy…”

“Aww… you noticed. I’m sorry love, I ruined our date. I just wanted to take you to a place where normal couples go”.

“I felt it… Let me ask you this. What is that thing called ‘a normal couple’? What’s this? What do they do, that we don’t do?”

“Casual things”.

“Ok… and?”

“Casual things. Normal people do casual things”

“Ji...baby. You thought I needed something else than what you offered me? You thought I needed to go to the theater? You did it to please me?”

“...”

“Ji…”

“... yes”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled your nose in his chest. He smelled good, but he didn’t smell himself. He smelled the owner of this sweater. You missed his smell.

“Who owns this sweater?”

“Noona Tae. I borrowed it. I wanted to look normal”.

“But… I love YOUR own smell on you. I love to see your smile, not your hidden smile behind a mask. I love to see your eyes sparkle when you look at me. Those shades didn't allow me to. I love when I hold your hand and I see your tattoo. I love that you can speak freely to me, not when you are scared to cause a scandal and have to hide your beautiful voice. You know what I mean?”

“I… think so”.

“I don’t need a casual date to be happy. I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for something I don’t like that much, anyway. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable in order to please me. I want you to be happy. Completely and totally happy” You hugged him tightly. He seemed sheepelish. “Do you know when I can see you like that? Happy?”

“...No?”

“When we are alone, at your place. Yours, not mine. Because yours is secured. I love when we hug at home. I love when we talk, all alone. When we have our deep conversations. When we redo the world. I love when we have our movie date night, snuggled in pajamas. I love when we have our take out night. I love when we go to a fancy restaurant by the back door, too.”

“But you deserve better”.

“Better that you? My perfect boyfriend? The man who kisses me so passionately? Who never fails to make me happy? Who listens to each and every word I say? YOU are what I love Ji. YOU. It has nothing to do with a lifestyle. You, with your gummy smile, your tender eyes and your soothing voice. With your skilled hands. My artistic man that needs to create 24/7. It’s your personality that I fell for. I really don’t care about casualty''.

He closed his arms even harder on you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck. A long sigh escaped his lips.

“Ji… I didn’t like to see you uncomfortable like that. I didn’t like when you were scared to get caught. I have to say tho, I liked when the people whooped your loud ass” you teased “You are unable to watch a movie without talking. Even if you were not an idol, you would be condemned to watch your films at home, you don’t know how to stand in public” You teased, tickling his side.

“I love you so much, Y/n… I’m sorry I ruined our date”.

“You ruined nothing at all. I told you already, being with you makes me happy” you tiptoed to kiss his hidden nose above his mask.

“Listen, we still have some time. Maybe we can continue to walk around the neighborhood hand in hand?”

“No, you were not comfortable. Maybe in some city where nobody knows you, but not in the middle of Seoul where you are the King of those ladies’s heart. We can always take some fresh air in your private little backyard. It’s enough for me”.

“I was scared that you would feel trapped…”

You stepped back and took out his mask. You needed to kiss him, you needed his lips. Mostly, you needed to see his smile again.

“I don’t feel trapped. Our relationship is perfect. Absolutely perfect. I couldn’t have dreamed of a bond as deep with someone. This is what I need. You’re what I need, my Jiyongie”

He smiled that big shy smile that you love so much. That you fell for. That smile that makes your stomach twist and your knees weak at the same time.

“I love you, you have no idea how much I love you” he said before his lips pressed against yours.

“I know how much you love me, you proved it to me again, tonight”.

“There is an activity that couples do that I’d gladly do with you tonight”

You pretended like you didn’t catch the meaning.

“Really? Gaming?”

“Gaming? Really Y/n?” He laughed.

“Let’s go home. I cannot wait for you to dress like your own self again. Those clothes, they don't suit you well. Then, maybe, you’ll show me what you were talking about”.

He kissed your face before, his breath warming your skin on this cool night.

“I’ll show you what I was talking about, no doubt. Let’s go”

“Ji… No more disguise, ok? I want you to stay yourself with me”.

“I got it… I got it. Then, it means that I will drag you in all those fancy restaurants again”.

“... or I can cook us some food too”

“The perfect balance”

You couldn’t agree more. You were the perfect balanced couple and you couldn’t dream of a better boyfriend.

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