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ithinkinggenshin · 2 years

Text

Messed Up Messy Love

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Ei, Yae Miko, Ayaka

Pairings: GN!Reader x ^above characters (separately)

Warnings: Angst, abandonment, implied cheating, hurt/comfort/hurt, swearing, death, bloody nose, imprisonment, possessiveness, grammar errors

Word count: 6.7k

Synopsis: So I got an ask for a fic about fighting and making up but I ended up writing a breakup fic instead. So here’s that. Don’t worry, I’m gonna keep working on that request.

Note: Under the cut because the fic is long

Ei:

She neglected you. Disappeared without a word of warning. You know she’s a busy woman. You know she devotes herself to her pursuit of eternity. She loses track of time when she’s concentrated and focused, but she seems to not realize she may lose you too if she continues to ignore you.

You’re tired of this treatment. The days and nights without her are far more frequent than those with. It was more than enough time to have you going through the 5 stages of grief. At first, you gaslit yourself into believing she was just busy. She made time for you in the past but maybe something came up? Maybe she was held up with mountains of paperwork. Or maybe she was just meditating. You go to the palace everyday and ask the guards to let you in. Everyone knows you by now, but they still deny you entry. What is going on?

By the third day of you not seeing her, the theory that she’s meditating has rooted itself in your mind as the answer. It must be.

Of course, you’re wrong.

You visit the shrine to get a fortune slip and pray. You’re secretly hoping Ei will hear your prayer and come to you.

A chance encounter with Yae Miko leads to her talking to you about her recent visit with Ei. So recent that it was just yesterday. Your face gives away how utterly confused and hurt and betrayed you are that Ei has chosen to not come and see you but let Yae Miko still visit her. Yae sees your crestfallen expression and reassures you that Ei has just been busy and has lost track of time. She promises to bring you up the next time she visits Ei. That is, if she herself hasn’t already come running to see you.

You nod and thank her. You believe her. You want to believe her. You’re choosing to believe her.

A week passes. Ei doesn’t even send you a letter.

By this point, you know she can’t be busy with political stuff. She’s an incredibly intelligent woman. She built a puppet for her to control. She developed all kinds of sword techniques. She’s ruled over Inazuma for centuries. She isn’t busy. At least, not busy enough to not have time to even send a blast of lighting to you to show she’s thinking about you.

It’s because of the lack of lighting that you don’t worry if you’ve made her angry. The last time she was angry it stormed and thundered for over 3 weeks. She sat in her plane of Euthymia until she calmed down. To her it was a blink of an eye. It would have been an awful and painful three weeks for you if she hadn’t dragged you with her to the palace. Even though you were the one she was mad at. Even though it was an argument that you two had, she brought you with her to protect you from herself. You would’ve apologized sooner, if she hadn’t locked herself up completely like she did. She said she needed time to think. You said that you were glad you had some time to think too, but it was too much time if you’re being honest. Ei had said she’d try to keep that in mind for the future.

The rain let up, and the people breathed a sigh of relief. Some even came and thanked you for calming their archon down. You can’t describe the surreal feeling of joy and love you felt knowing that Ei wanted you, even when she was angry, and that you two could work things out.

You thought she loved you.

Another week passes and now you’re pissed.

She’s ignoring you! She doesn’t care about you! You swear she’s so selfish. It’s always her plans that come first. Her wants. Her needs. She wants to be alone? Fine! She can be alone for all eternity. Maybe she’s staying away from you on purpose.

Maybe she’s preparing for your death. Maybe she doesn’t want to care about you when you die.

Maybe she doesn't actually care about you.

Maybe she never did.

Maybe she doesn’t love you…

…

Maybe she never did…

You cry at those thoughts. You’re not angry anymore.

Ei. Please come back. You say to yourself, alone in your room.

All indications of her presence in your life are gone already. Her scent, stray hairs, and snacks are gone. Thrown out and scrubbed away from your previous house cleaning, back when you thought she’d be coming to see you.

You feel like crying again.

You try the palace again. You bring her favorite snacks. You bring gifts. You write her love letters. You beg the guards to let you pass. To let you see your girlfriend. They all look guilty as they turn you away. The letters you sent come back to you, unopened.

You go to see Yae. For once you can see straight through her lies. Her hesitation to answer and ultimate decision to simply reassure you again by saying that she’ll talk to Ei. You scowl and ask her what happened when she brought you up before. She dodges the question with twisted words. You don’t bother trying to pull the truth out from her. You’re sure it’ll hurt you. You don’t think you can handle more pain. You turn and leave as Yae is mid sentence. She doesn’t get upset at you for being so disrespectful. Tears fall as you make your way back down the mountain.

Ei must not love you anymore.

That’s why she doesn’t want to see you.

The days seem to drag on and blur by at the same time. Life goes on. The world keeps moving. You can’t bring yourself to leave your house for a few days. You manage to avoid work by faking ill, but you can’t avoid your job forever. You need to eat. You’re surprised you’ve almost run out of food. You’ve barely had an appetite.

You finally go out.

You go back to work. Your boss asks if you’re okay. You say you’re fine, just fatigued. They tell you to take care of yourself. You can take time off if you’re still feeling sick. You thank them and shake your head. They don’t try to pry further. You’re grateful for that. You try to get back into the swing of things. You force yourself to take on each day.

You think you’re healing.

Ei still hasn't come.

You try not to think about it.

It’s been months. You can’t tell how much time has passed. You stopped keeping track a long time ago. Your heart aches as you realize that it’s almost your anniversary with her, but you don’t think you’ve even seen her since your last one. You don’t remember.

You don’t want to.

You go out instead of staying in and wallowing. You promised a girl you’d meet her at the festival. She gives you butterflies and makes you trip on air. You want to hold her hand and kiss her. You don’t though. Not yet.

You think of Ei. You go to the palace. Some of the newer recruits don’t recognize you, but their seniors do. They still won’t let you see her. You ask if you can leave a message or letter. They shake their heads. You sigh. You go to Miko and tell her that you’re done with Ei. That you’re not waiting for her anymore. You say you feel bad that she has to be the messenger for this, but end up grateful as Yae brushes it off and says it’s not a big deal. Your life is short compared to hers and Ei’s. It’s best you go on and keep living. She jokes that at the very least, Ei may not conjure another storm that prevents anyone from coming in or out in her grief over you.

You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just thank her again and go back down the mountain.

You continue life as normal.

You’re blissfully ignorant to the fact that your message never gets to Ei.

Another month goes by. The butterflies don’t go away. They migrate from your stomach to your heart, making you more giddy instead of nervous. You slip your hand into hers. You both freeze for a moment, before she turns and smiles at you, a blush spreading across her cheeks. You must be blushing too, because she smiles even wider when she sees your face. You two walk through the streets hand in hand. You play games and eat treats. Some people stare at you like you’re covered in blood, but you don’t pay them any mind. You can tell the stares are making her uncomfortable too. You feel bad for it, but it’s not in your control. You just squeeze her hand tighter. She squeezes your back. It’ll be okay.

You told her a while ago that you dated the Raiden Shogun. She laughs nervously and says she already knew. Everyone knows. How could they not? You tell her about your relationship. About what happened. She admits that she feared loving you because she thought it might be blasphemous to love the Raiden Shogun’s partner. You say you feared loving her because you knew that people would harshly judge you and whoever you ended up with. She doesn’t deserve to deal with that kind of scrutiny. But you’re not with Ei anymore. You did everything you could to tell her so. You admit that you’re surprised that there was no indication of her being upset or anything, but you also accept that she might’ve been long over you by the time you came around to admitting that you were ready to accept and move on from her.

You want to love.

You want to be loved.

Others will judge you no matter what in this life. You had to accept that a long time ago. You’re willing to put up with the stares and the criticism if it means that you can be happy with another person. But you aren’t willing to put that person under the same kind of pressure if they’re not up for it. It can be extremely difficult to deal with, you tell her. She just gives you a half smile and says she’s already heavily judged by others.

Growing up as the daughter to the Kamisato clan, Ayaka was always being graded on everything. The way she acted and dressed, who she affiliated herself with or didn’t.

She walks over to you and sits down next to you. She leans her head against your shoulder. Let the people talk. If they really care, they’ll bother to consider your feelings as well.

You’re not Ei’s property. You aren’t her toy. You may have been hers at one point, but she had made no moves to claim you for over a year. Even if she came back into your life right now, you wouldn't accept her. You wouldn't immediately lay your heart in her hands. She'd have to explain herself, she'd have to prove herself. And even then… you don't know if you'd be able to trust her again.

So you both decided to take the leap. You find yourself in a slow dance of courtship. You'd take her on small adventures. Short walks through the forest next to the estate or to obscure shops in the city. Often late at night or early in the morning. Before and after her long and hard work days. In return she'd give you gifts. Writing you long letters and buying you ornate fans. You started displaying your growing collection in your house.

Ayaka gasped and nearly cried when she saw the way you decorated your home with them. You told her that you liked to see them when you walked around. Not only are they beautiful, but they also always made you think of her.

Time flies when you're with her. Everyday you'd find yourself sharing a moment with her, and every time you wished that time would stop so that it would never end. So that you could feel this happy forever.

Maybe that's what Ei is chasing.

A way for her to be happy forever.

You know that such a thing doesn't exist, but you hope she finds it nonetheless.

After all, it's hard to stop caring about someone you loved for so long. She told you about all the pain and grief of her past. She shared some of the burdens she carried. You did your best to say the right things and be there for her. Maybe that's where you went wrong.

No.

You needed to stop that train of thought. Before the tracks pointed downward and you started spinning in a cyclone. It wouldn't be the first time.

Ayaka pulls you out of your long trip through your memories. She helped you the same way before, calling your name in the beautiful voice of hers and rubbing her thumb on the back of your hand. Innocently asking what you were thinking.

You shake your head and smile at her. Memories are the bane of you. They're like a riptide that pulls you off your feet and away from the present moment.

And yet… she manages to save you.

Every time, without fail.

You keep winding your way through the festival, smiling and laughing. Admiring the beauty that came from all your neighbors' hard work.

You come to the top of a cliff. You wrap your hand around her waist, and she leans her head on your shoulder. You turn your head towards her, and she meets your gaze. You lean forward. She mirrors your movement. She grabs your shirt and you tighten your grip on her waist.

You both jolt when you hear the boom of the first firework of the night. Laughter bubbles up and comes out of both of you. You lean down and your lips meet hers. Her hands grip your biceps, and you embrace her fully. Fireworks boom in the background, but you swear you're both eons away.

You feel it before you see it, and you see it before you hear it.

Your hair stands up.

The light blinds you.

A blast that you only hear the first half of before the ringing in your ears makes the rest of it feel muffled and far away.

You and Ayaka cling to each other as you’re blasted off the cliff into the water below. You’re lucky that neither of you are hurt too badly, only sore. You climb out of the water and are immediately seized on both sides.

“Filthy traitors are not tolerated and have no place in eternity.”

That cold voice.

It’s her.

The Raiden Shogun.

“You are under arrest for your crimes against the Shogun. Do not struggle. We are bringing you to the palace for her to decide and execute her punishment,” Sara is as matter-of-fact as always. You can tell she knows what happened. She looks guilty as she makes eye contact with you, but she gives the order to take you away anyway.

You try to look back at Ayaka and don’t see her there. You try to fight. The soldiers don’t budge. You feel your heart pounding. You feel like you’re going to die, long before you come face to face with the Shogun’s sword. Which you probably will. There’s no way she won’t execute you for seemingly cheating on her. You’re surprised when you find that you’re more worried about Ayaka’s safety than yours.

The butterfly that rests in your chest flaps its wings.

You really love her.

You’re walked through the streets of the city. People come and watch you like a parade. Watch as you’re dragged by guards behind the Shogun and her general. You close your eyes but can still feel the stares.

You think about your time with Ei. Now that you think back on it, you must have looked like such a lapdog next to her. Leaning your head on her thigh as she hovered and meditated in her mindscape, patiently waiting for her to finally acknowledge you. The way you cupped her face and always tried to comfort her. Like a dog licking its master's tears. She always felt more than any human ever could. The pain and suffering from centuries ago, mixed with the pain and suffering of her people now, you don’t know how she bears it all. You’d deliver her treats and walk with her along the base of the mountain. She took you to see the arch that was once a gateway to her sister’s mindscape. You’d bring flowers to every so often and thank her for blessing the shrine and by proxy, the people.

At first, Ei was confused by the way you’d talk to the shrine. Who are you talking to? No one is there. You told her it was just how you honored the dead. By talking to them, you brought them to the present day, as though they were alive, to help them live on.

You had to part ways with Ei not long after that.

Later that night, you had been woken up by pounding on your door. One of the head officials and some guards stood in the doorway when you opened it, demanding to know what you did with Ei. You looked at them confused. She never returned to the palace? Strange. You promised to help them look. You didn’t tell them where though. The places you two shared, they’re kept secret for a reason. They’re places only you two together felt at peace. At least, you thought so.

You ended up finding Ei still at the shrine, talking to it. Talking to Makoto. She sat in her usual mediation position, talking about everything that came to her mind. You quietly called her name. And smiled when Ei stood, took your hand, and formally introduced you to her sister.

Thinking back on it, Ei didn’t call you her partner. She said you were special to her. You wonder if that was a sign.

You consider praying to Makoto. Ask her to protect you from her sister, as you’re forced onto your knees inside the palace, wrists cuffed behind you. You stay in a stooped position. You don’t want to look at her. You shouldn’t feel this bad. You know you’re in the right. It wasn’t fair for her to disappear on you, and now to act as though you’re wrong to have fallen in love with someone else.

But you know it’ll do you no good to try and reason with her.

You know the woman standing before you isn’t your Ei.

You don’t know where she’s gone.

That’s probably the only regret that you have.

You wish you could see her one last time.

You tell the Shogun that. That you wish to see the person you thought loved you. To talk to her one last time. Wouldn’t it be good for her too? To at least have some closure before it all ends.

Permanently.

Your request is denied.

You’re asked if you have any other last words.

You tell her to not punish Ayaka for any of this. The Shogun held a higher place in her heart than you ever did. It was your own scheming that convinced her that being with you was okay.

You plead for her safety.

Your request is granted.

You hear her voice one last time.

The change in intonation gives her away.

“Goodbye.”

A flash of light.

“I love you, Ei.” You whisper.

Then darkness.

Yae Miko:

It’s not fair.

You swear up and down that you’ve been nothing but a pathetic joke to her, and everything you’ve been made to do was entirely for her entertainment. Which isn’t fair at all.

But Yae Miko doesn’t play fair.

You’re just a pathetic human, chosen to amuse the greatest kitsune of all time.

Fuck that.

You’re not her doll to dress up.

You’re not her pet to do tricks.

You don’t belong to her.

So you leave.

She sends you home after deciding you’re being “too boring” today. You’re relieved and at the very least, you’re reassured knowing that one of her few weaknesses is boredom. If you simply do nothing, she’ll get bored of you and leave you alone.

But it shouldn’t matter what you do. Especially now, as you take your bags and head to the Ritou docks. She doesn’t deserve an explanation as to why you’re leaving. She doesn’t deserve to even know that you’re going.

But when you get there, your determined gaze turns to shock. Fear and dread settle in your stomach, but anger gives you a hard front. You march down to the docks and decide that you’re going to ignore her.

You’re completely unsuccessful. How can you ignore her when she’s speaking to the captain of the ship you’re about to board? She’s very clearly about to stop this voyage altogether by influence alone. And when you try to walk past the two, she puts her arm out in front of you, effectively stopping you in your tracks as you’re caught by surprise.

“Please, my lady. The amount of resources and people invested in this trip! We must be allowed to leave.”

“Hm. Alright, how about a deal? This one here plans on going on this little trip of yours, correct? Let me keep them, and I’ll let the rest of you go on your merry way. Alright?”

You turn to her in horror and glance at the captain who refuses to look at you. You selfishly hope that she’ll fight for you to come with her, but when she agrees with Yae’s terms you don’t feel any surprise.

You glare up at the kitsune who smiles down at you in return.

“Perfect. Come along then, dear.”

You push her arm away from you before it latch on. You scowl at her and look at the captain again, who shakes her head silently.

Just great.

You turn heel and storm away. You're not giving up just yet. You're glad you didn't have to pay for everything up front. Only a small fee to reserve your seat. Compared to being stuck with Yae, it’s a minuscule loss.

You go across the docks to another captain who is clearly preparing to set sail, but before you can even say anything they shake their head and turn away.

Everyone went quiet when the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine stepped onto the wharf. They all slowly returned to their business, quietly talking among themselves, wondering why she was here. Everyone could hear her conversation with that captain. At least half of them curled in on themselves in fear, despite not being her targets. And they all looked when she referred to you. Instantly, silently agreeing to not come between you and her.

You could feel her suffocating presence behind you as she followed you around. You desperately approached each of the workers on the docs. The captains simply crossed their arms and shook their heads. The crew-mates were more jittery and would say some sorry excuse and scurry away.

"Are you done? You can't really believe you have any chance with these people now."

Your eye twitches and you clench your teeth. She's right. She's effectively cut you off in terms of leaving by ship from Ritou. The gossip about you and her will spread fast. No one will let you board their ship now. Not unless it's some oblivious foreigner who has a death wish and doesn't know what it means to stand against Guuji Yae.

You keep approaching people. You don't want to leave. If you start heading back, she'll start pushing you towards the shine. You won't be able to escape this time. The people in the city have seen you dragged around by Miko before. They see you as lucky. Lucky to be in her favor. Blessed to always be in her presence.

You consider throwing yourself in the ocean.

Yae decides she’s had enough of watching you desperately try to approach all the men and women on the docks. She’s barely managing to keep faking her amused face. When she learned about your plans to leave Inazuma, fury erupted inside of her and the kitsunetsuki flashed behind her.

How dare you.

Of course, she was confident that you wouldn’t actually be able to leave, not so long as she’s around. But the idea that you were trying so hard to get away from her, it maked her electro powers fly out of control. The day you leave her is the day you die. And now, here you are, trying her patience ever further.

It’s completely futile to try and get away. It’s like watching a child play a game of shogi against a grandmaster, they have no chance of winning, but the better of the two is entertaining them. But doing so is getting quite boring for her.

Time to speed things up.

She grabs your wrist from behind and squeezes just hard enough to bruise but not break your bone.

“Come now, little one, listen to reason. You’re so rash to go and make a decision like running away like this. Let’s go back to the shine and talk things through. I’m sure whatever problem you have I can help you solve.” She must look so kind for offering to help you like that.

You barely hold yourself back from smacking her.

You grit your teeth and speak low enough that the others can’t hear, though she’ll hear just fine being a kitsune and all. “You know damn well that you’re the problem. So unless you plan on exiting my life for good up at that shrine, I’m not going with you.” You give her the hardest glare you can muster, and almost lose it at what she does next.

“Ahaha~”

That damn laugh.

“Haha… that’s cute. You’re so cute,” she pinches your cheek, “but I can’t let you go. I’m hurt that you think I’m a problem. I don’t know what I could have possibly done wrong. Especially not to the point that you’d try something so drastic as this. Now let’s go.

You don’t have a choice.”

When did you ever have a choice with her?

Yae leads you through the streets and crowds of people. You drag your feet the whole time, trying to stop her. You take immense pleasure from seeing how angry she’s getting from all your resistance.

Yae Miko always gets what she wants, and right now she wants you.

You get to the base of the mountain where the stairs start, and when Yae’s grip falters for barely a moment you take that opportunity and rip yourself out of her grasp. Turning heel to run, only to be slammed in the back with an intense blast of electro that leaves you writhing on the ground. Of course, one second later a couple turns the corner and sees the guuji kneeling over your body. Once again Miko looks like the hero coming to the rescue. If only they knew it was her that did this to you.

She whispers in your ear, “don’t even try to run from me again,” she leans in closer, “or else I’ll break your legs. I’ll make sure you’ll never even think of defying me. As much I’ve enjoyed this little game of chase, I don’t intend to let you run wild like this forever. In fact, I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight again. Now, get up. Or would you prefer me to carry you?”

You twitch and shake but force yourself to get up, your legs almost collapsing under you if it weren’t for Miko catching you. You muster as much strength as you can to push her away. She just rolls her eyes and grabs onto your wrist again. You wince as she locks you in another bruising grip. Once again, she’s dragging you around, only this time your attempts to resist hurt you more than her. You almost twist your ankles multiple times tripping up the stairs after you try to avoid climbing any higher.

Unfortunately for you, Yae is starting to enjoy this. She was annoyed before, but the moment she stepped onto the stairs leading to the shrine she instantly felt better. Not that she was actually worried about losing you.

You’re in her domain now.

She’s now the rule maker of this game, the god of this realm. You don’t stand a chance.

You never did.

She feels so much glee as she thinks about how pathetically helpless you are. She thinks about all the different ways she can punish you. Maybe she won’t wait like she said she would and just break your legs. Or maybe she’ll put a collar on you and chain you to the wall in her room. Or maybe…

You look over to see a wicked smile growing on your captor’s face. Dread lumps in your stomach and only swells when she makes eye contact with you.

The perfect punishment.

Fitting for the ultimate rule maker and final rule breaker.

You barely step onto the wooden boards of the shine before you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rising and your vision goes black.

Yae Miko hates to do so much work, but it’s worth it to carry your body through the shine. At least she gets to bask in the glory of looking like a saint. But still, she’d much rather have you awake when she has you helpless. It would be far more entertaining.

She carries you to her quarters and sets you down on the tatami mats. She’ll start the preparations immediately, but first, she has to make sure you won’t be able to get away before then.

When you try to step out into the hallway to make your escape you’re met with an electric shock that almost knocks you unconscious again. You try to crawl away only to be met with more electricity, and worse, the end of your chain. You couldn’t even force the chain off your ankle when you were stuck in her room. Now, you barely manage to claw yourself back through the door, where it finally stops. You feel like your entire body has been fried. Your head feels heavy. All of the electro must have damaged your nerves because you don’t even register any pain from when you let your head drop and hit the floor. You do, however, wince when you hear that rotten laugh.

“Goodness. You really shouldn’t have done that. Not when you're about to play again I've prepared for you,” she lifts you by the roots of your hair, “and you’re going to be at a disadvantage with how weak you’ve made yourself.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Yae flashes a smile. You feel it this time when she slams your face into the floorboards. You also feel it when blood starts dripping and running down from your nose to your lips.

“You really shouldn’t be provoking me like this. If you push me even more I’ll have to cancel the game I set up. You don’t want that now do you?”

“I’m not going to play your stupid game.”

“Oh yes you are~ After all, if you win, I’ll let you leave.”

“Bullshit.”

Miko throws her head back and laughs again. You can’t help but wonder what she’s got planned. She likes to toy with you, she’s probably just bluffing to get your hopes up.

You want to slap that stupid smile off her face.

“Don’t be so unreasonable. When have I ever lied to you?”

You’re going to strangle her.

“I’m being serious. I’ve set up a fun little game for us to play, and if you win, I’ll let you go free. You can stay on the island or leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

That’s too good to be true.

“But if I win,” she swipes some of your blood and licks it off her finger, “you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

There it is. There’s always a catch with her.

“And if you don’t play, then I win by default.

So what will it be? Why don’t you make it easier on yourself and give up right now?”

She’s baiting you.

“Fine. I’ll play. What are the rules?”

There’s no way she hasn’t rigged this.

Yae claps her hands and smiles wide. She knew you’d choose to play. She sees that hopeful look in your eyes.

Oh how she’ll enjoy crushing it.

“It’s simple. We’re going to play a game of cat and mouse. You run away, and I'll chase after you. If you can avoid me for more than an hour after I start chasing after you, then I’ll let you go. Simple as that. I’ll even give you a longer head start because of…” she glances at the door, “what you already did to yourself.”

“You’re the one who set up that trap.”

“And you’re the one who stubbornly kept going.” She stands up and tosses a handkerchief onto your head. “Now clean yourself up. I don’t need you dripping blood down the halls too.”

For once you don’t argue. You’re already thinking of how you’re going to avoid her for the next hour.

You can do that. You’ve done it before. It won’t be that difficult to do it again. And you’re pretty sure Miko will keep her word. She likes to play with high stakes. Though… she only plays games she knows she’ll win.

It doesn’t matter. Your freedom and future depend on you winning this game. Depend on you shoving Yae’s arrogance in her face and showing her that she’s not all powerful like she thinks she is.

She guides you down the winding halls and outside. You descend the staircase and you realize how dark it actually is. Dammit. Why did it have to be on a night with a new moon? It’s hard to see. This may actually be more difficult than you thought it would. It doesn’t matter. You’ll win.

You have to.

“Now then,” Yae says as her heels touch the bottom of the stairs. “Scurry away little mouse. I’ll come find you in, hm… let’s say, ten minutes?”

“Make it twenty.”

“Fifteen minutes. I’m starting count now.”

It’s just like her to barely negotiate. Still, fifteen is better than ten. You turn heel and run. You know she’s looking as she watches you leave, so you try to trick her into thinking you’re going into the forest but instead you intend to work your way around so you can get into the city. It’ll chew into your time, but if you can set this up right, then you won’t have to even move for the remaining hour. Just like before.

You dash your way through the forest and the thought occurs to you that you might just be leaving a trail behind. Ugh. It’s fine. The city doesn’t have leaves for you to crunch through and leave prints on. You do have to jump pretty far to avoid getting wet in the river though. Which takes a lot of effort because of how weak your muscles feel. The electric shock has taken its toll on you. The adrenaline carries you across, thankfully.

You make it into the city and bolt for Shimura restaurant. You’re worried that you wasted too much time going through the forest. You’re sure Yae’s already stopped counting.

You run faster.

You awkwardly scramble and manage to climb up onto the roof. You duck behind the sign but then reconsider and jump up onto the higher roof and hide behind the tower. Now, if she comes around you can move so that you can hide from all angles. And if worst comes to worst, you can jump down and run in the opposite direction. Either in and through the city or down onto the grassy hill behind the restaurant.

You let yourself relax a bit after waiting for 15 minutes. You’re still terrified, but if your heart keeps racing so fast, you may die from the palpitations alone. You only get to enjoy the relaxation for a minute before you see it.

No way.

A large, glowing, nine-tailed fox comes prowling up the steps into this half of the city.

That bitch.

She never said it was against the rules to use her powers but still! This was supposed to be a game of cat and mouse not sharks and shrimps. And of course it looks directly at your hiding spot as soon as it stands in front of the restaurant. You swear it’s smiling as it starts to approach.

Thankfully, your body reacts faster than your mind as the next thing you know you’re sprinting down the grassy hill. You can hear it chasing after you.

Shit!

The rising land in front of you is going to make you pick a path. The moment she sees which direction you go, Yae’ll be able to jump and over and cut you off. And it won’t be an option to turn around, it’ll take too long. You have a terrible feeling this isn’t going to end well. But you have to press on.

You run along the cliff to the left and as expected, the fox leaps over to cut you off on the left side. Thankfully, it lands far enough away that you make it to a point that you realize that you’re able to go back the other way. Of course this doesn’t mean victory in any sense, because as soon as you turn back to the left, the kitsune is vaulting over you and planting itself directly in your path again. It’ll go on like this until it manages to prowl close enough to snap you up in its jaws. The only reason it hasn’t yet is because if it jumps too close to the small cliff, it risks slamming into it altogether.

It stalks towards you, growling. You make a stupid decision. You turn heel, and it leaps onto the cliff right above you. But instead of running left or right you run directly away from it. Towards the ocean. Towards the edge of the real cliff. Towards your doom.

As they say, better to die in freedom than to live in bondage.

You leap into the air, and as soon as both your feet leave the ground you regret your decision. You don’t want to die.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the fear overwhelms you, and you start crying midair. You pray for someone to save you, and your prayers are answered quickly. The mighty kitsune hurls into you, and you instantly cling to its fur. It’s thanks to it that you land safely on the beach below.

You still don’t let go of it. Even when it’s turned back into your worst nightmare. Even while she taunts and teases you. You sob into her hair and she coos.

“My, my. What a stupid and reckless decision you just made darling. I think you owe me for saving your life, hm?”

You’re still crying as you shake your head against her back.

“No?” She tuts. “How ungrateful. Fine. How about I carry you back up there and throw you off the cliff again myself?”

You sob harder and shake your head furiously.

Yae manages to get you to let go and she holds wrists in the air so you can’t get away.

“Then stop being a brat. I won the game. I saved your life. Now I get to claim my prize. Now you’re in debt to me. Because I won, I already own you. So now what you’re going to do to repay me is: you’re going to entertain me. I’m going to keep you as my toy, and you’ll let me play with you as much as I want, however I want. Until you break. You don’t have a choice. Now, let’s go home. Okay precious?”

You hyperventilate. This is a fate worse than death. You can’t face it. Not right now. Not when your heart is about to burst from all that's happened tonight.

Miko sighs. She really hates having to carry you around so much. Oh well. You’re more pliable like this anyway. She leans you against her and transforms into her fox form, catching you on her back. She makes sure you’re secure before sprinting back to the shrine.

Time for the real fun to begin.

722 notes · View notes

lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Alpha Jungkook x Omega Oc!

Genre : Angst , Hurt/ Comfort.

Chapter 1 ⋆ Chapter 2 ⋆ Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ⋆ Chapter 5 ⋆

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary : Nine months after her marriage ends, Kim Heejin is a reclusive artist, who works out of a renovated warehouse in Busan, her days and nights spent with canvas and paint. Its exactly what she’s ever wanted, to be left alone. And yet, that nagging feeling of incompletion keeps her on her toes. And perhaps, it is that longing for something substantial, something real that pushes her to give her flawed but lovable ex-husband another chance.

Chapter 9

“I… No. Just… please tell him I’ll be down…I’ll come down to the lobby to meet him.” I said quickly, panicking at the idea of having him here. I’d barely been here a day but this was still my space. And if I had him here then his scent would just seep into every nook and corner.

The room would smell like him then… And what would I do after he left?

God, what was I even thinking? Head swimming, I crawled to the edge of the bed and breathed shakily.

It felt surreal, climbing out of the bed and moving to the vanity . I stared at myself in the mirror as I grabbed the makeup bag I kept with me all the time. Wide eyes and parted lips, creamy gold skin turning lily white because of how the blood had just drained after that phone call.

I looked petrified .

Jungkook… I thought numbly. Jungkook’s waiting downstairs and I’m going to see him.

What is he thinking.... What is he feeling... why is he even here?

You’re not responsible for his emotions, Taehyung’s soothing voice in my head helped a bit but not a whole lot. What about my emotions, I though desperately, grabbing the tube of gloss and slowly uncapping it. I ran the end of it over my lips and felt my fingers tremble because I didn’t know why I felt this need …to look beautiful.

I didn’t need to, I though miserably. Everyone knew omegas were beautiful. Beta supermodels were beautiful yes but they couldn’t hold a candle to me, at least for someone like Jungkook. He was an alpha, his brain was built to find me attractive. I had evolutionary genetics on my side, which mean that if I ever actually wanted to seduce Jungkook , he wouldn’t really stand a chance .

But I didn’t want that.

I had had enough of that. Enough of seeing handsome, rich alphas being reluctantly attracted to me. They made it obvious too. Most of the hate mail I got stemmed from angry wives or girlfriends accusing me of seducing their men , even though I’d never so much as laid my eyes on them. It was so unfair.

I didn’t enjoy watching them lose their minds at the sight and scent of me, because i knew that deep down, they thought that all omegas were scum.

Manipulative, sex driven , greedy and selfish . Those were the labels I got plastered with , on the media and on the streets.

And Jungkook wasn’t different, I reminded myself firmly, pulling away from the mirror and grabbing the loose powder and dusting down some of it on the apple of my cheeks and down the length of my nose.

He didn’t think any different than the others. Jungkook’s views on omegas were just as archaic and bigoted as everyone else’s .

He just didn’t act on them .

Sighing, I dropped the lipgloss back in the back and brushed my hair off my face. On a whim , I pulled off the hair tie holding the thick strands together, letting the wavy tresses fall over my shoulder. I hadn’t cut my hair in a long time and it felt to my hips now. My stylist was adamant that it added to my aesthetic.

A primal siren, she had said staring at me in awe, like something eternal and beautifully dangerous. We’re lucky you seem incapable of hate, Heejin ...because I think you could bring grown men to their knees with that body and that face.

I felt nauseous at the thought of it.

Walking to the elevator felt like walking the plank and I had stop a couple of times, just to breathe deeply. I had to be smart about this. I was in therapy. Taehyung had taught me how to handle situations like this and while my heart was pounding too hard and my brain was too scrambled to use any of his therapy techniques, I still had some of my cognitive abilities intact.

He came here, i thought desperately.

He came looking for you and that means he isn’t nervous or worried or overthinking this because he doesn’t have feelings for you. If you want to come out of this unscathed, you need to get your head on straight. You need to pretend that you didn’t just have a minor mental breakdown at the thought of him dating someone else.

I took a deep breath, exhaling sharply before stepping into the elevator. The ride down to the lobby was barely a few seconds and when I stepped out, I realized the place was way too crowded for such an exclusive Hotel. And then I remembered that people were here for the Art Festival. I glanced at the reception desk, covertly, noting a conspicuous lack of Jeon Jungkook. The lady behind the desk held her hand up when she spotted me .

“Ms. Kim? Mr. Jeon just went to get you a drink...He’s over by the breakfast counter over there.” She pointed out the dining space where people were walking about getting breakfast and I swallowed, feeling hot and cold as I cautiously stepped into the crowd, trying to find a that familiar head of thick dark hair.

I felt the apprehension build as I tugged on my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to reign in the chaos in my mind but it was impossible, everything too loud and too messy. I looked around and then, it hit me.

His scent.

I felt my lips part in surprise, and it felt like someone had turned the volume down , noises fading into a dull hum at the back of my mind as I stared at him. He hadn’t spotted me yet and I took a second to just....look.

He looked incredible.

There was really no other word for it. Incredibly handsome, Incredibly beautiful and so incredibly perfect as the late morning sun lit up the room, picking out the shine on his white silk shirt. I breathed in deep, my mindeasily picking out the musky pine scent of him and I stepped closer, moving straight towards him and I caught the exact moment my scent his senses.

He jerked a bit, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide before he turned, lips parted and gaze a bit unfocused as he looked around.

When he caught sight of me, he just blinked.

I smiled weakly, body going limp with relief because.... because this was Jungkook. Not some monster I had to run from. This was Jungkook....even at his worst he had been better than some of the other people I’d met in life.

I looked down at the drink in his hand and smiled a bit as he made his way over.

“ This isn’t the same as buying me a coffee.” I said shakily as he finally stepped upto me.

His eyes danced with warmth.

“What makes you think I can afford one? Besides, aren’t you the hotshot artist? Shouldn’t you be the one buying me stuff?” He said softly.

“Just saw you on the front cover of a magazine. We both know you’re far from destitute..” Even through the smile, I felt the tug of emotion as I stared at him, felt the difference in him like night and day, the light and joy and ...contentment that seemed to radiate off him .

He smiled and held the drink out to me gently.

“ Heejin-ah.” He whispered.

And somehow it was the sound of his voice, wrapping around the syllables of my name that finally did it.

I felt the tears brim over, my lips parting in choked laughter as I stepped close and wrapped both my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and breathing him in. I felt him hold me, infinitely gentle and I exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t miss you, at all.” I said shakily. He laughed lightly.

“I missed you , too.” He stroked the back of my head gently and I sighed, fingers curling on the silk of his shirt. The fabric felt like liquid in my fingers and I played with it for a second, intensely aware that people were starting to stare. That this embrace had gone on for longer than social norms dictated but I couldn’t bring myself to care, letting my chin rest against his shoulder blades.

And it was almost frightening.....how easy it was to pretend we weren’t broken at all.

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

“She was so small when I last held her... I can’t believe she’s running around.” I said, awed, listening to Jungkook tell me about how Mina liked to climb everywhere. He laughed, shaking his head.

"She’s growing bigger everyday. I can barely keep up.” Jungkook smiled, holding a hand out for me to step over the wooden slats that lined the tiny archway that led to the door to his building. I hesitated before lightly gripping his hand in mine, the gesture somehow feeling more intimate that it was.

“You’re not staying at the Firenze?” I asked curiously, resisting the urge to reach for his hand again when he let go.

it was such a ridiculous thing but I’d never held hands with him. And It felt ridiculously nice, to slot my fingers with his, feel them in between mine. His palm against mine, calloused but somehow so comforting.

I’d forgotten how warm he was.

Don’t. Don’t fall down this rabbit hole again, Heejin. We talked about this. He doesn’t think of you that way. He doesn’t. And neither should you. its unfair to him. He doesn’t deserve that.

“No... As you can see my apartment is barely ten minutes away and Soeun has her exams so its easier for her to watch over Mina here at the apartment.

“Soeun?” I asked curiously.

“Park Soeun? She’s a University student who lives with me. She’s doing a correspondence course in fashion . So she’s home all the time and she helps out with Mina. And she speaks Italian so that’s a huge plus... ” He smiled. “ you’ll like her. She’s a good kid.”

Don’t make that face. Don’t fucking make that face, Heejin.

I struggled to keep my face straight , like I wasn’t feeling the weight of a dozen bricks at the base of my stomach.

“A roommate...then..?” I asked quietly and he shrugged.

“Something like that. But mostly she helps take care of Mina when I’m out on an assignment.” He smiled and led me past two flight of stairs up to the studio apartment.

I wrapped my arms around myself as he stopped in front of a wrought iron grill, gripping one end and sliding it open with ease. And then he rang the small bell n the side. I shuffled back and forth on my foot, heart racing.

The door opened and I blinked because of how young the girl who opened the door was. A second later she was beaming, moving forward and wrapping both her arms around me.

“Unnie!” She squealed, hugging me so close that I almost choked. Completely thrown I could only gape at Jungkook who was laughing .

“Oh, I forgot to mention..she’s a bit of a fan. “ He teased lightly and I smiled awkwardly, watching as she pulled back to stare at me, her gaze trained on my face unblinkingly.

“Whoa...” She reached out and lightly touched my cheek with her forefinger making me jump. She flinched as well, flushing red.

“Shit..sorry...I just... I’ve never... I’ve never met an omega before.” She said softly. “ You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

I felt my heart pound, steeping back instinctively, an overwhelming urge to hide , anxiety pooling in my stomach as she continued to stare at me. I hated the attention and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Soeun, enough. Don’t make it weird.” Jungkook said sternly, voice hard and the girl immediately flushed, bowing apologetically.

“Sorry...I.. sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable ... You’re pretty.” She said again before turning to Jungkook.

“I have to get some stuff for my exhibit, Jungkook oppa... Mina’s asleep. i’ll be staying over at Vince’s place for the night though. Is that okay?”

“Sure..have fun.” Jungkook smiled, “ Vince is her boyfriend.” He explained and Soeun nodded happily.

“Italian men are absolutely amazing unnie...you should try some.” She winked and I laughed despite myself.

“I just might...” I said with a grin, watching as she walked over to slip on a pair of sneakers from the small shoe closet near the door. She waved enthusiastically all but bouncing away and I blinked at him , shaking my head.

“I feel a hundred years old right now.” I said softly, still stunned by the girl’s exorbitant energy. Jungkook laughed at that

“She definitely has that effect on people... Come on, I’ll show you around.” He held his hand out and I smiled , taking his fingers mine and letting him tug me further into the studio apartment.

I looked around, taking in the full blown prints of Mina and Jungkook , caught in adorable poses in front of different tourist spots in Florence. I saw how much she looked like Jungkook now, and how openly affectionate they looked together, the love evident even in the still photos.

And then my eyes fell on a familiar painting , my stomach lurching.

“You... “ i turned to him in a rush and he was staring at me with a small smile.

“I had to bring that. It pretty much saved me, that painting.” He said casually, stepping close and running his fingers all over the print.

“When you told me this is how Sooah saw me...” He traced the picture carefully before glancing at me,” it made me realize that Sooah didn’t just want a baby.....she wanted a baby with me. She saw me as a father. As someone who could raise and nurture a tiny human and that... that’s amazing isn’t it?” He sighed, staring at me.

He looked beautiful, I thought with an ache deep inside me. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life and it seemed almost too good to be true. That he was here, at reach. So close. I wondered if this was it. This had to be a sign. A sign that we’d come full circle. That it was over. That we could finally break free from all that we’d been through, and look back at Jungkook’s past with fondness instead of pain.

And perhaps, just perhaps I could reach out and touch him with something more than just the love you have for a friend. . Perhaps I could reach out and touch him, without feeling guilt and foreboding.

I exhaled shakily stepping up and running my fingers over the canvas. It was nothing fancy... Just a painting a painting of Jungkook holding Mina up by her waist, high over his head, staring up into her face with all the love and adoration in the world, The child in the painting doesn’t look exactly like Mina, of course, but I’d had no idea , seeing as Sooah had commissioned the painting when she was pregnant. But Jungkook.... Jungkook looked exactly like he did now : Happy and at peace.

“You’re alright, then?” I asked quietly , a wealth of meaning behind the words and he smiled , nodding gently.

“I’m fine…” He whispered , “ And I’m so glad I can tell you that, like this. Thank you for coming , Heejin-ah . I know you owe me nothing but.. I wanted to show you that… it wasn’t all bad you know. What we went through… Something good did come out of it.” He whispered.

I choked out a sob.

“I lied.” I whispered. “ I did miss you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened.

“I have a lot to be sorry for. But I don’t want to remind you of those things. I just want you to know that… I understand what you went through…those six months. I understand that it was difficult and painful and i… I’m grateful that you didn’t give up on me. And I’m grateful that you stayed in my life. Because I know I didn’t deserve that.”

“You deserve to be loved Jungkook.” I said quietly. “ Its not wrong to move on. You deserve to… find happiness again.”

He stared at me, his gaze soft and gentle.

“I can almost believe it, when you say it that way.” He laughed. “ And… you know… I’m not sure if its love. But there’s someone I’ve been…. Well, I can sort of see myself with her. .” He grinned a little, smile boyish as he ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Wait… was he going to?....

“ I met her at Taehyung’s practice, a year ago. Her name is Lee Hyorin.” Jungkook looked at me, doe eyes shining with excitement.

And just like that the world ended.

Or so it felt.

It was like being dipped in icy cold water, the shock of it rendering me speechless, lips parted and breath catching in lungs.

Blood rushed through my ears, so fast that I felt lightheaded, my legs nearly giving out. White noise filled my skull, pain lancing sharp through my heart like a thousand paper cuts, and I couldn’t really breathe. It took a few seconds…. For my heart to catch up with what my mind had just processed. And when it finally did, the pain was so excruciating, I had to clench my fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palm to ground myself.

“She’s an alpha…and she lost her husband around the same time Sooah passed..” Jungkook gave me a soft smile. “ She’s actually a curator at one of the museums here. She’s the one who made all the arrangements for me to move here to Florence. ”

“Wow… That’s…” devastating,. “ That’s good news. Jungkook.. I.. How long…” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow. “ How long have you guys been dating?”

“About three months now. We’re taking it very slow, because we aren’t really ready. She has a son too. He’s three years old. Mina loves him so that’s a plus.” He laughed.

My lungs constricted, breathing difficult and my head swam because ….. what. Realization set in so quickly, I was left reeling. I was in love with this bastard, I thought miserably. So in love with him that it felt like he was shredding my heart into ribbons. Every word of his mouth felt like a sharp deep stab, straight through the center of my heart and the pulsing, beating organ was on the verge of giving out.

“She’s going to be there at the dinner tonight at the Festival. She’s one of the organizers by the way. She’s kind of the reason I got in, I think.” He laughed , looking abashed and what a load of bull that was. Jungkook was successful and well known. Superbly talented at his chosen field. She was lucky to have him.

How can she have him when I’m the one who fixed him? How is that fucking fair?

“She really understands the things I’ve been going through, the past few months and because we both still attend therapy with Taehyung, we’re able to talk about a lot of stuff. Stuff I can’t share with others…” Jungkook was saying and I tuned him out, not wanting to hear another word.

I swallowed, choking on bile. I could feel sweat gathering on my scalp, my skin clammy and damp , the air between us shifting into something poisonous and filled with so much dismay, it was a miracle he hadn’t picked up on it.

Couldn’t he sense how distressed I was? Couldn’t he see how his words were hurting? Couldn’t he fucking see that I couldn’t live without him? Why on earth couldn’t he see me the way he apparently saw every other woman on the damn planet…..

Because he’s a shitty Alpha, I thought miserably, willing myself not to burst into tears. He was a shitty excuse for an alpha back then and he’s the same now.

A low, distressed cry began somewhere behind him and he jumped.

“Oh, shit she’s up… come on, Heejin.” He said with a bright smile, turning around and rushing down a small hallway and I willed myself to breathe in deeply, reminding myself that this wasn’t the end of the world. I could get through this. Besides, it was Mina.

Beautiful, perfect Mina who had been there for me. She would see me and she would give me that sweet gummy smile of hers, does eyes twinkling and I would get through this. Because her smile was what was important. Her smile and her joy and her happiness.

The sobbing had slowed down to small hiccups and I stepped past the threshold cautiously, watching as Jungkook bent over the large crib, carefully lifting her out and into his arms. She looked breathtaking, an absolutely gorgeous little girl . I stared, mesmerized as I stepped closer. My arms ached, and my chest tightened. Lips wobbling, I exhaled sharply, moving to reach for her.

She turned to glance at me and just as my fingers brushed her cheek, she recoiled.

Hard.

A loud wail tore through her tiny body and I felt my eyes go wide. Her casual little cry had turned into a sobbing , loud wail and I could smell the distress in her , the fear and distrust as she curled away from me. Jungkook looked stunned as well, instinctively drawing her close and embracing her, moving away from me because….

Because I was the reason, she was distressed.

My skin went ice cold at the revelation and I stumbled back, stunned.

“I… I’m sorry.” I choked out, confused and disoriented. Jungkook looked stricken, gently rocking her back and forth and she clung to him, gripping his shirt and I bit my lips, moving further back and I glanced at him, my heart shattering.

“She’s …She’s still sleepy… She doesn’t do well with strangers…” He said softly, looking upset, “ Maybe you could…wait outside…”

Stranger…. Was that what I was?

“I… I’ll go. I’ll just go.” I turned on my heel, rushing out of the door and struggling to breathe in air, my heart clenching so hard I was sure I was going to pass out. I felt my knees give out when I reached the couch, dropping down and drawing my knees up , wrapping my arms around my legs . I didn’t know how long I sat there, fighting sobs and choking on air…and when I finally came to myself, the sobs from the room had died out.

“She’s fallen asleep again.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence and I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I felt him move closer, felt his scent hit me as he stepped right up to me, kneeling on the floor in front of me.

I looked up at him, lips wobbling as I took in his handsome face. A face that was so deeply carved into my heart and my soul, I couldn’t imagine living without it. Without him. The tears came then, helpless and endless and so painful.

He pressed in closer, cupping my face in his palms, thumb brushing the tears that spilled over so relentlessly.

“Heejin…” He whispered and I let my fingers curl around his wrist as his thumb kept brushing the curve of my cheeks. I took a deep , shaky breath .

“She doesn’t remember me…. “ I whispered, “ She doesn’t recognize me at all…She hates me……” I choked out , despair filling every last crevice of my insides, gut twisting as I remembered how Mina had twisted away from me, how her scent had soured in distress at the sight of me, at the touch of my fingers.

And I wondered if it was different with this other woman..Hyorin, wasn’t it? Did Mina climb into her arms with ease? Did she curl into her chest and sleep? The way she used to with me, when she was a month old and missing the warmth of a mother.. ….

All those nights spent in that tiny nursery, lying on the cold unforgiving floor, watching the rise and fall of Mina’s chest through the dark room…telling myself it was worth it… it was worth being touched against my will, worth being treated like filth by a man driven mad with grief and anger….all because of this baby…this tiny little baby who had needed me….

And now…she didn’t even know who I was…..worse…she was repulsed by the very sight of me… I couldn’t cope.

“Look at me…” Jungkook rasped, voice raw and cracking. “she doesn’t hate you, Heejin… she just … you feel new to her… different…”

I shook my head, unable to think about anything beyond the sheer devastation that filled me, the way his daughter had pulled away and run, had refused to come anywhere near me. I realized with lancing pain that I’d wanted to see her, way more than I’d wanted to see Jungkook .

Because she was the reason I’d hung on for so long in that marriage which had been the biggest fucking mistake of my life…. the only reason I’d stuck around . Mina …Having her in my arms, her scent against my face, that had been the only genuine happiness I’d experienced in a marriage filled with sheer , unending misery.

“I… she… Why doesn’t she remember? “ I breathed, sagging into his arms, tears soaking his shoulders and his palm ran up and down my back.

“Because she was a baby. Heejin…. I left when she was a baby…”

“Why did you?” I snapped. “ Did it hurt you so much? The thought of living under the same sky as me ? Why you did you go?” I demanded.

Jungkook pulled back, hands coming up to grip my shoulder, holding me at arms length.

“Look at me.” He whispered. “ I had to … You know I had to go….I was hurting you. I was… I was draining you of life. Destroying you… “

Jungkook’s words reminded me of who he was. Of who I was… Of who I was to him.

I choked out, sobbing.

“I hate you. You treated me like scum. Like a crutch….. Like some sort of tool to get better and you just left… you…”

You found someone better. You broke me down and now you’ve gone and found someone better….because I was never good enough for you… I was never someone you could love….

“I had to let you go. I had to end that relationship because it was tainted with so much grief and anger and selfishness and greed. I knew that anything I did afterwards would be tainted by my actions… I… I had to make amends, Heejin. And do you think for a second, that it wasn’t the hardest thing I ever did? That walking out on you wasn’t one of the most devastating things I’ve ever experienced? But I did it for us… for this…”

I stared at him.

“And what is this?” I asked brokenly.

“This is me, being able to touch you like this.” Jungkook pressed a palm to my cheek, “ And not feeling guilt or sadness or grief or loss. I did it so we could have this…this… This thing where I can look at you and hold you and see that you’re healing. That you’re doing better… That you’re living the life you want…. That you’re happy. This is me standing here , in front of you and smiling because I’m happy too. Happy that you’re here. ” He exhaled, “ I’m happy that despite all the hurt we’ve been through for and because of each other, I can look at you now and tell you, honestly, that I’m glad to see you.”

What a joke.. What a fucking joke.

I smiled shakily.

“Well… “ I said softly, my stomach churning because I was done. Done with him and mostly with myself. “ Isn’t that absolutely wonderful.”

His gaze softened and he smiled.

“I want us to be friends, Heejinah. Even though we don’t see or talk to each other, I think of you often. And when Mina’s old enough to understand , I’ll tell her all about you… I want you in our lives. You’re a friend. ”

I stared at him , feeling the words echo in my skull . It left an acrid taste on my senses, the way he put me into this neat little box, friend. So ….insignificant. Everyone had hundreds of friends. There was nothing even remotely special about being someone’s friend.

Friend just meant replaceable and forgettable. And just like Mina didn’t remember me…. Someday Jungkook wouldn’t either. The knowledge filled my veins spreading all over my body and leaving a fierce, heavy ache in my chest.

It was my fault, I thought despondently. My fault because I had been an idiot.

Jungkook was the sane one here , I thought miserably. These nine months, while I’d been dwelling on him and worrying for him…he had done the healthy thing , by moving on with someone he could actually envision a future with….

What had I done, these past nine months? Dreamt up a fantasy world where somehow we found our way back to each other and built a life together… It seemed so foolish now, in the light of Jungkook’s words and his confession….

Jungkook had done all of this, not for me…but for himself. For his daughter whom he loved and for his wife , whose memory he wanted to honor. And perhaps it was my own delusion that made me think that I’d played some stellar role in his healing…. Maybe if I hadn’t been there, he would have gotten better just the same…. Maybe I hadn’t been a tool …as much as a hindrance …to his healing.

I shook my head, bitterness coating my tongue.

“I should get going.” I whispered , voice shaking.

This is it, I told myself. This is the last time you look at him with that heaviness in your heart. You deserve better. You deserve… a lot of things. And just because people don’t give it to you doesn’t mean you have to settle for less……

“So soon? Hyorin will be back in a couple of hours… I could show you some of my work, and we could get lunch ….”

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to meet her in his home. Didn’t want to see him being domestic and affectionate and …normal with her when all I’d ever seen was Jungkook in his anger and grief, either yelling abuses or gripping me with a lust that was tainted with violence and rage. I stared at his hands, the ones I’d liked holding….

How did I forget? That those were the same hands that had held me down and done things that should, rightfully have landed him in prison?

I shook my head, to clear the images out of my head. Looking at him now, Jungkook looked eager, happy and healed. And I realized that he’d just pushed all of his own actions out of his mind. Forgotten all about it. And that was fair. He probably didn’t even remember any of it. He had been drunk out of his mind, lost in his head and surely, forgetting must’ve been easy… A relief.

I didn’t begrudge him that.

But…

I hadn’t been drunk. I’d been stone cold sober under him on that bed and so, maybe forgetting didn’t come that easily for me. And I was glad that Jungkook could move on and be happy but….

But I couldn’t stay here and pretend that it was the same for me. I wasn’t happy or healed, I thought miserably. And maybe , maybe the sight of him moving on was a sign that I had to stop thinking that healing meant going back to him and his daughter.

“Heejin… What’s wrong? Is it because of Mina.. she’s just not used to…” He began but I quickly pressed a palm to his chest, smiling.

“Strangers.” I said softly. “ I know. That’s not it… You know I have to introduce my exhibit at dinner tonight. I don’t know what the itinerary is or what I’m supposed to say…. None of it.. I need to meet my agent and prep myself a bit. Its alright…I’ll see you tonight.” I said softly.

“I’m sorry… I can’t walk you back because Mina-“

“Of course. Don’t worry about it…. I’ll just…”

The doorbell rang, startling me.

“Jungkook!” A strong voice called out and I went still.

“Hyorin?” Jungkook’s face lit up and I felt my stomach churn. God, the universe really was against me wasn’t it? Sighing in defeat, I wrapped my arms around myself, sitting back down on the couch and waiting.

Behind me , I could hear hushed whispers, soft laughter and shuffling feet. My mouth went dry.

“Ms. Kim….”

I turned around, greeted by the sight of a tall, strapping young woman, pretty by any standards. She was dressed in a pant suit , her hair long and straight, hitting the top of her shoulders. She looked smart… Important.

“Ms. Lee… Its nice to meet you.”

She held her hand out and I shook it gently. Jungkook smiled at her fondly and his phone rang from somewhere inside the studio.

“Hang on that’s probably Soeun…” He smiled at me and moved away and I watched him leave before shifting my gaze to Hyorin, who was staring down at me with a small smile.

“Are you here in Italy by yourself? Or with one of your many …uh… patrons ?” She smirked.

I blinked.

“Patrons?” I asked softly. “ Excuse me?”

“Jungkook and I’ve been following all the stories about you, back in Korea. You get around quite a lot… don’t you? Every alpha within a 100 mile radius wants a piece of the lovely Kim Heejin… And honestly, could anyone blame them? You look exquisite.”

I stared at her, stunned. The implication was so obvious that I would be an idiot not to realize what she was hinting at. So this was the woman , Jungkook chose? Yet another prejudiced bigot?

I laughed a bit, feeling my heart sink.

“I’m not seeing anyone. If that’s what you’re asking.” I said quietly.

Hyorin smirked at that.

“Of course you aren’t… We all know that isn’t really something your kind does… monogamy, right?”

“Do you have a problem with me Hyorin ssi?” I asked roughly and she laughed.

“Oh come on.. we’re all adults, here. And Heejin, you agreed to be a part of this festival, knowing full well, that’s what we think . Its because deep down you know I’m right….. Omegas can’t stay with one alpha. They need sex to survive and they are usually open to it with anyone. Not that I’m blaming you or judging you for it. It’s just how you’re built.”

I smiled wide, ignoring the urge to claw at her face. .

“Well, you’ve definitely got me all figured out haven’t you? “ I shook my head, glancing at Jungkook who was making his way over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously and I smiled, glancing at her.

“ Hyorin ssi was just telling me how my sub gender makes it impossible for me to not go around whoring with every alpha I see…….” I glanced at him and Jungkook straightened, looking stunned, “ Well, I hope you two enjoy your beautiful monogamous relationship with each other something an omega like me can only fantasize about…. Right Jungkook?” I smiled and he looked completely lost.

“Wait…What? Hyorin what did you say?” He demanded and she was glaring at me now.

“Please don’t take it personally, I was only talking about omegas in general. “ Hyorin frowned, before bowing and moving away to stalk off in the direction of the bedrooms and I watched her, feeling dirty and terrible.

“Heejin, ignore her.. she’s just old fashioned and-“

“Is that what you’re going to call it?” I snapped and Jungkook froze.

“Heejin…”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’m not upset about what she said. I’m upset that she feels comfortable enough, spouting that bullshit to me , in your house. Makes me wonder what else she’s told you about omegas, and how much of it you probably agreed with.”

Jungkook stared at me , lips parted.

“I… I don’t feel that way. You know that.” He said stiltedly.

“Do I? All I know is that she knows about me, about who I am and apparently, she can call me a slut…. In front of you, without worrying about it upsetting you. And that tells me you’re as much of a bigot as she is.”

“Heejin… You know that’s not it. We all grow up being fed certain things and –“

“But you did grow up right?” I snapped. “ you grew up and you can think and act for yourself. As can she. Once you’re an adult, you don’t have a single fucking excuse for being racist or homophobic or bigoted because being an adult means having the ability to unlearn the toxic things you’ve been taught and relearn how to be a decent fucking human.”

I shook my head as he stared at me.

“And you know what…please just… just don’t call me or consider me as a friend.” I laughed. “ Because I don’t think I can consider you one. Not anymore. You can’t…...You can’t just love certain parts of me and be disgusted by others you know? I don’t need a friend who can care about me and love me and help me as long as he can forget that I’m an omega….. I need a friend who can love every jagged, broken , part of me. Who can call out people who talk bullshit at me , who can look someone in the eye and tell them they’re wrong when they’re calling me names and that’s not who you are……. You’re not it.” I snapped.

Jungkook looked stricken, reaching out to hold me and I stepped away, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Heejin, you’re right … I’ll talk to her… I’ll…” He began but I shook my head.

“Whatever. Just don’t call me a friend. We can’t be friends. Let’s just be what we always were , yeah? A big fucking mistake that never should have happened.”

I stormed out of the door, shaking.

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

“What do you mean, there are no flights available for today?” I snapped. “Tell them money isn’t an issue. I need to get out of this place right now.”

Minho looked incredibly stricken, hair messy from how often he’d run his fingers through.

“ We just arrived seven hours ago, Hee. Of course there’s no flight yet…. We can stay another day…attend the dinner and-“

“No.” I snapped. “ Absolutely not. I’m not here because they find my art good or worth putting up. I’m here because they know the alphas around here will want to pay more , to pour in more cash for a chance with me.” I held the embossed booklet up, waving it in his face.

“Heejin…” He protested but I shook my head.

“ Did you see the cost to get into my pane ?. Extra ….for alphas? And yet…apparently they had to pre book it and its filled? You think any of the lecherous bastards who paid money to see me , gives a shit about my art? And apparently, there’s a meet and greet, for alphas only if they purchase seven or more paintings worth over 10000 Euros. Do you think, that’s what I’m worth?”

Minho looked down at his shoes, ashamed.

“I .. I’m sorry, Hee. You’re right. Its offensive . And an insult to your art and talent. We shouldn’t have come here, you’re right. And I regret it… But just… give me a few hours, yeah? I’ll find a way to get us out of here….”

I exhaled sharply, exhaustion weighing heavy on my head. I felt like I’d taken a pounding, physically and mentally and I wondered how a day that had started so well, could go so wrong, so fast…

Shaking my head, I trudged wearily to the elevator, knocking on the buttons before sagging against the wall, letting my eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook was dating.

Jungkook was dating. His girlfriend thought I was a slut and here I was about to prove her right.

I wanted to slit someone’s throat.

Sighing, I watched the door slide open, grabbing my keys out of my bag, and moving to the suite. I opened the door before making a beeline for the bed. I collapsed on the soft duvet, groaning. I was torn between wanting to call Taehyung to yell at him about Jungkook and calling Minho to demand an update on the flights.

I was spared the dilemma when the phone in the room rang. Groaning, I moved to swat at the phone, turning on the speaker.

“Ms. Kim? There’s a Mr. Jeon here to see you?”

I blinked, feeling disbelief swell inside me. Did he not get the hint?

Annoyed, I sat up.

“Send him up.” I said, in no mood to go all the way down to see him.

“Up?” She sounded surprised, “ To your room?”

“Yes. To my room. Is that a fucking problem?” I growled, annoyed.

“Not at all Ms. Kim. He’ll be right up.”

I got out of bed, shrugging off my jacket and taking off my dress as well. It was a little damp because I’d sweated through the fabric. I grabbed one of my oversized t shirts , slipping it on and moving to open the door before retreating back to the inner room. Feeling annoyed, I walked up to the vanity and grabbed the hair brush, running the bristles through my locks. I heard his footsteps outside and stiffened.

“If you’re here to defend your shitty girlfriend, you can just leave Jungkook. I swear to God, I’ve had enough of this.” I shouted. He didn’t reply and my hackles rose.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I said something harsh-“ I froze when I reached the doorway, staring at the man in front of me. He had a large , almost humongous bouquet of wild orchids and roses in his hand and I stared at his face.

This was definitely not Jungkook.

“Umm… hi.” The man bowed awkwardly, his gaze going straight to my legs, where my t shirt ended, just a couple of inches past my waist. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Who are you…Get out !!!” I shouted, horrified, diving for my jacket and holding it up against my bare thighs. The man held both his hands up, eyes wide..

“I’m sorry… I… you said I could come up to your room….” He protested and I scowled, confused.

“What? “ I stared, stunned… “ Who…what?”

“I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. I’m uh….one of the sponsors for this festival. And a fan. Huge fan.” He was staring at me beseechingly and I felt my head begin to throb.

The sheer relentlessness of this day…..

“I… Mr. Jeon…” So weird, God, “ There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not…. I thought you were someone else.”

“Jungkook yes…your ex husband, right? You were married to him for six months after he lost his wife….. He’s also one of the artists exhibiting their work here.” He nodded quickly, running long fingers through thick glossy hair, lips parting in a hesitant smile and I stared at him.

“How do you know all that? ” I demanded, heart pounding. He immediately held his hands up again.

“I’m sorry… I sound like a stalker, shit. But Trust me I’m not. I just am a huge fan.. I looked up some stuff about you….before.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly, finally looking up at me.

I tried to catch his scent. No scent to speak of. A beta then. Relaxing just a bit, I swallowed. At least I wasn’t in any immediate danger. But still, I had no intention of letting him see me in nothing but a t shirt. Embarrassed, I gripped the jacket tighter.

“Why are you here?” I demanded angrily, taking in his appearance. He didn’t look like a hoodlum or someone dangerous. He was good looking, dressed in a white t shirt and black Jacket over plain black slacks. His shoes looked expensive and I didn’t miss the shiny Rolex on his wrist either,.

“Well, for one thing I own the Hotel.” He chuckled and that made my stomach turn. “And also like I said, I’m one of the main sponsors for the Festival itself.”

“Right.” I was too disoriented to process this, head throbbing. “Of course. Is there a reason why you wanted to see me?”

“I was downstairs…just now… I couldn’t help but overhear you with your agent. You wanted to leave as soon as possible. To pull out of the event and I’m just here to try and change your mind, Ms. Kim.” He smiled earnestly and I realized he was really quite young.

I sighed.

“Could you… Could you wait outside? I want to put some clothes on before we talk any further.” I said tiredly and he bowed quickly.

“Uh… These…I’ll just leave these here.” He placed the large bunch of flowers on the table before quickly leaving the room and I swore, racing to the suitcase in the corner. I quickly grabbed a pair of jeans, slipping them on hastily and zipping myself up before glancing at the mirror again. This would have to do.

I moved to the door and opened it, finding him right there, looking lost.

“I… come in, please.” I said hesitantly and he bowed again, moving in and waiting for me to close the door and take a seat on the couch, before sinking into an arm chair across from me.

“Did you see the itinerary? It doesn’t get more sexualized than this.” I waved the booklet and he flushed.

“I understand you’re upset about … certain things. I’m sorry that you feel objectified , in the festival. It wasn’t the intention I had when I first told Hyorin and the others that I wanted them to invite you. But , I’ve been busy the past month, and I didn’t go over the complete agenda. If I did, I definitely would have made sure that you were treated with just as much respect as the others. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do now, but I’ve had a word with all of the panelists and also the hosts. We won’t entertain any question or comments of a sexual nature and if anyone tries to insinuate anything , I’ll have them removed from the panel myself. “ He said firmly.

“I’m only here because you told me you would exhibit my mother’s works too.” I said sharply and he bowed.

“ Your mother’s works are just as exquisite and I’ve arranged for them to be displayed right at the center of the arena, with a running slide show of her childhood , her art technique and the great love she had for her daughter.” He said firmly.

I could only stare. He sounded incredibly sincere and there was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.

“I’m….” I bit my lips, “ Listen, Mr. Jeon, I’m flattered but honestly, I never wanted to be here. I… there was … something else that made me want to come and well, that turned out to be a huge mistake. To be honest, I’m not sure if I have it in me to suffer through days of people treating me like I’m some kind of sex crazed bimbo.” I shook my head.

“how about this.? You let me be your date for tonight and you let me display your work, today at the dinner itself. I’ll be right by your side. And then, I’ll have my private jet on standby and we can fly back to Korea. You deserve the spotlight, Heejin and I want people to see how good you are at what you do. I don’t care if I lose money over this… As long as you’re comfortable. ”

I gawked at him, stunned.

“Private Jet?” I choked out. “ Okay, now I’m genuinely concerned.”

He laughed.

“I’m a Hotelier, and I have properties all over the world and I like to inspect them personally most of the time. Its more practical to have a private jet than to try and align my schedules with everyone else.” He smiled.

“Right. Convenient.” I shook my head. “ I’m no stranger to excessive wealth, Mr. Jeon and trust me, it’s always left a sour taste in my mouth.”

“I don’t flaunt my wealth, Ms. Kim. These clothes? Got them on the streets of Florence. I drive a Mazda. Wealth has no meaning to me. People do. People like you, who bring beauty into the world with their craft. You’ve made my world beautiful and I just want to repay , in some way.” He smiled, “ Also, You’re very beautiful.” He added and then immediately looked away. “ I’m sorry. That was… dumb . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Endeared against my own wishes, I found myself fighting a small smile.

“Just tonight’s dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Just the dinner party.” He assured me quickly.

“Alright. But I’m not getting into any private Jet. My agent will book me tickets and I’ll find my way back to Korea.”

“As you wish. I’ll pick you up at seven. What color is your dress?” He asked casually and I blinked.

“Uh… Wine red? I guess? Why?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome.

“I’ll see you at seven, Ms. Kim.”

He bowed, before pausing by the bouquet. He grabbed a couple of flowers, holding them up for me to see.

“Daffodils and Lilacs.” He grinned, “ To finding something new to love. And to new beginnings.”

Wow.

Subtle.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting all about Jungkook as I grinned all the way back to the bedroom.

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

“I told you… coming with me will earn you major points.” Wonwoo smirked as he pulled me in by my waist , holding my dress up for me as I stared at the sleek black limousine at the Hotel entrance. I watched as he held my wrist gently, latching a string of sterling silver and red rubies around the delicate curve of it.

“This is too lavish…I don’t want this…Who are you?” I demanded, flushing because of the way the flashes went off in every direction, reporters scrambling when they caught sight of him. He was clearly popular, if the number of photos being clicked were any indication. I regretted everything.

Wonwoo pressed a kiss to my wrists, right near the bracelet and gently placed my palm on the curve of his elbow, leading me over to the car and I watched the chauffeur open the door for us.

“ Someone who can get anyone here fired. Be careful , sweetheart.” I watched in mute horror as he bent low, picking up the hem of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip, while climbing into the limousine. The reporters began whispering excitedly and more flashes went off . My face completely red, I hastened to climb in.

“These people look at you like you’re some kind of King.” I stared out of the tinted windows seeing the sheer multitude of people and Wonwoo chuckled.

“ That’s because I am. At least for tonight. And that’s why I’m the perfect guy to protect you Heejin. They’re all terrified of me.” He winked.

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

Jungkook found me, fifteen minutes into the event. I hung by the large archway, near an alcove, sipping champagne and nibbling on some hors d’oeuvre as people threw glances at me. I noticed the conspicuous lack of a date on his arm and straightened, sighing and bracing myself for more unpleasantness as he picked his way through the crowd, eyes trained on me.

“Can we talk?” He said, the minute he was at hearing distance and I exhaled.

“No.” I said casually and he made a noise of impatience.

“Fucking, hell Heejin..just…” He swore again, looking upset. “ Why are you doing this to me? What do you want from me huh?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What do I want from you? Oh, fuck off Jungkook. I want nothing from you.” I snapped, turning on my heel, ready to leave but his hand shot out, gripping me right above my elbow, fingers curling in hard.

“Fuck.. listen. I don’t know what she said to you. I .. I’m sorry if she offended you…. Alright? She’s an alpha… I can’t change the way she thinks…”

“I didn’t ask you to. I merely said that if you associate yourself with people who think I’m scum, I won’t let you into my life. Because I respect myself too much for that.” I said firmly.

“She doesn’t think you’re scum, Heejin come on. She just has some misconceptions about certain things.”

“God, Jungkook…just stop. Alright? Stop. Because I’m not asking you do anything. I’m leaving on a flight tomorrow morning and you’ll never see me again. That’s all there is to it.”

He froze at that, fingers curling harder around my arm and it hurt, the skin turning red. Stupid fucker, never knew his own strength.

“Ow, Jungkook let go.” I whispered, and he did, albeit reluctantly.

I rubbed at the bruised skin, furious. I watched as the redness healed over, the pain fading to a throb and then into a pleasant heat and I hated it. Hated that being an omega meant that Jungkook’s rough touch turned to pleasure on my skin.

“What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow? The Festival is for two weeks.”

I sighed.

“I didn’t come here for the festival. I came here to see you. To see if you were as hung up on me as I was on you…but apparently not.” I snapped.

Jungkook went perfectly still at that.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Wow. You really never even considered it huh? Us? Together.?” It wasn’t funny at all, but I could only laugh. Probably because I’d been so sure.. So certain that there was something there.

He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a warm solidness behind me, an arm wrapping around my waist and a second later, Wonwoo was there pressing up against me.

“Jungkook-ssi… Such a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out, and Jungkook frowned, his eyes trained on where wonwoo’s fingers curled around my waist.

“Get your hands off her.” He said shortly and Wonwoo blinked, pulling away from me and stepping back .

“What the-? No. Fuck you.” I snapped, glaring at Jungkook before grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and bringing it back around me. “Don’t you fucking dare take your hands off.” I held my finger up at his face and Wonwoo looked momentarily stunned.

“Really, Heejin? You’re doing this?” Jungkook glared at me. “ We need to talk.”

“So talk.” I snapped. “ Tell me why you think a bigoted bitch is the best you can do in terms of dating. Tell me why she’s the only one who can ‘ understand’ “ I made air quotes, shaking my head, “ You think you and your shitty have monopoly on grief Jungkook? I’ve lost people too. Just because I haven’t screwed other people over because of it, doesn’t make my grief invalid….yeah.”

Ringing silence followed and I regretted everything.

“Fuck.” I whispered, shaking my head. “ I .. Shit. I need to get out of here.”

I pulled away from Wonwoo, moving out of the huge ballroom and Jungkook was right behind me, of course he was.

“Heejin…fuck. Wait. You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t understand me. Of course you did. Its why you stuck around… I know that. And you’re right, she had no business talking about you like that. I’ll have a word with her… But…”

I sped up, wanting to get away but he grabbed me again, tugging me closer out of the hall way and into a darkened alcove and I flinched when he pushed me up against the wall, caging me in, as he pressed in closer.

“What did you mean by that?” He demanded, hands coming up to grip my waist, curling gently and my chest heaved at the touch of him, the enclosed space making his scent turn potent, strong and impossible to avoid. My nostril flared as I breathed him in, familiar and yet so foreign, comforting and yet so fucking dangerous.

“By what?” I snapped and his hands moved up, shaping the curves of my body , thumb grazing the tip of my breast and making me jump, before moving up, gripping my face, gently. He pressed his thumb into my lower lip, rubbing back and forth, face impossibly close and I swallowed, throat sandpaper dry.

“About us? Together….” He breathed and I exhaled shakily.

“You know what I meant.” I whispered. “ If you don’t then I can’t explain it.” I whispered and he swore, head dropping against mine, forehead resting against mine, and lips less than a hairsbreadth away.

We’ve never kissed, I thought suddenly. I licked my lips, turning my face away but his fingers gripped my chin at once, yanking me around to stare at him again.

“Look at me, baby. Tell me… You thought about us together?” He whispered .

I breathed shakily.

“Of course I did…. “ I snapped.

“Then clearly therapy isn’t working for you.” He snapped right back and I flinched.

“What-“

Jungkook pulled away staring at me.

“ Do you even remember all the shit I did to you?” He asked quietly. My stomach dropped.

“Jungkook.”

“I broke your ribs.” He said calmly. I swallowed.

“That.. That was an accident. You didn’t mean to.” I protested. “ And we’re past all that… I don’t… I don’t blame you for it.” I said, which was honest enough.

“And what about the nights I got drunk, Heejin….” He said softly and my skin went cold.

“That… That was just… It was just an outlet for your grief… “ I looked away and he scoffed.

“You’re calling it an outlet for grief. I believe the world calls it rape.”

I felt my entire body shiver at the word , moving up to wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him close but he was stiff as a board.

“ Don’t” I snapped. “ Don’t …. Its over…it’s in the past.”

“It was still me. I was the one who did it and I can’t… I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

I pulled away to glare at him.

“So , what? You won’t give us a chance because of something I’ve already forgiven you for?”

“Yes.” He said shortly. “ Because you may have forgiven me, but I haven’t forgiven myself.”

I felt my body sag in disbelief.

“Jungkook that’s-“

“You deserve better. You always have. I’m not… I don’t deserve someone like you Heejin. You’re kind and breathtaking and I’m just… a broken mess of a man who’s barely getting by.”

“Oh, right… So broken.” I scoffed. “ You’re on the front page of magazines, you have a successful career and a beautiful girlfriend,,,,forgive me if I’m not breaking my heart over your failures.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily before looking up at me.

“ You wanna know the truth about me, Heejin-ah?” He swallowed. “ I just got out of rehab last week.”

I went still.

“What?” I was sure I’d misheard.

“I… I came here and about a month or so in…I started drinking again…” He glanced away and my heart turned over inside me.

“Jungkook, what?” I demanded, horrified.

“I got drunk and got into an argument with a cop. I hit him. They found out I was a single father and-“ He shook his head, “ I got arrested for disorderly conduct , Public intoxication and assault.”

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.

“ Arrested for assault... Jungkook why?” I breathed and he flushed.

“I know…. It was stupid.. I… I was stupid.” He said softly. “Soeun isn’t a baby sitter. She’s a social worker. She’s here to keep an eye on me because they want to make sure I’m not a threat to Mina. If I slip up, they’ll deport me back home and then the state will likely take her away from me. Soeun likes me….so she agreed to lie to you ……And as for the girlfriend…” He laughed, shaking his head, “ Hyorin broke up with me after I got arrested. We’re not… We’re not dating. She was only there to get some prints for the panel tomorrow.” He finished shakily.

I stared at him.

“Why?” I demanded . “ Why would you lie to me… Jungkook ….”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a screw up.” He said shakily. “ I know I’m supposed to be getting better and I have but… But sometimes I just…I miss…. I miss home. “ He shuddered. “ And you.” He looked up at me. “ I miss you a lot, Heejin and it hurts and I feel like the only way I can forget about you…about us together is if I drink. And I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the right to miss you, not after everything I put you through but I… it’s how I feel. ” He glanced away, trembling a little.

I wrapped my arms around myself, stepping away, feeling myself go cold.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, both of us staring at the floor lost in our own thoughts. I felt drained. Miserably so. Like someone had sucked all the strength out of me. I realized how badly I had wanted Jungkook to be okay. To heal and be himself again. And I’d spent the last nine months, fully convinced that he was. That he was doing what he loved, bonding with his daughter building a life for himself.

But apparently, he was also spiraling back into addiction as well.

It was like we were back in that apartment, both of us miserable but desperate to be something we clearly were not : Okay.

“Does Taehyung know?” I asked finally and Jungkook hesitated before nodding.

“He was at my court hearing three weeks ago. He’s the reason I haven’t already lost her.” Jungkook whispered.

“What did he say?”

“He thinks I should come back to Korea.” Jungkook said quietly. “ He wants me to start therapy again with him. Every week. “

I nodded.

“Fair enough. And what do you think?”

“I think I will. My probation ends in three days. I’ll… I’ll start making arrangements afterwards. I’ll probably be back in a few weeks time. ”

I stared at him, finally seeing the things I hadn’t noticed this morning. The shadows beneath his eyes, the worry lines on his brow. I wondered if he would have ever told me the truth, if not for this little confrontation between us.

Silence descended again and I bit my lips, a million thoughts running through my head. I felt the pull of his scent through it all, an instinctive urge to reach out and touch and draw him close and I wondered if this was it. That for the rest of our lives we would just be drawn to each other, reluctant and hurt but unable to stay away.

“You’re leaving tomorrow then?” He asked quietly breaking through the fog in my head.

“Well obviously not.” I snapped. “ I’m not leaving you. I’ll tell Minho, we’ll be staying here for a few weeks. Do you actually have a possible job back home? If you don’t I can ask my agent to find one for you….”

Jungkook was staring at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“ What?” I asked roughly.

He swallowed.

“No.. I .. I don’t have a job there.”

“We’ll get you one. And my apartment is big enough so you can stay with me till we find you a place of your own. And I think it’ll actually be good for you, because there’s a Fine Art photographer, pretty well know guy who stays just a few blocks away and e can probably- “

“You haven’t really changed have you?” Jungkook cut me off in the middle of my rambling .

I flushed, looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“Back when we were married… it was just like this.. I’d fuck up and do something awful and you’d just take it all in stride, get ready to help me out of it….”

“I don’t know what you mean…” I said quickly, “ Let’s go back to the party we’ll talk later-“

He grabbed both my arms, pulling me back to face him when I tried to get past him and I yelped, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?” I demanded. “ What is it now?”

“How do you do this thing, Heejin ?” He asked roughly. “ How do you just get ready to clean up every fucking mess I make like it doesn’t hurt you? Like I don’t hurt you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to wriggle out of his hold but he tugged me closer.

“How do you just…” He shook his head, “ accept me so unconditionally? Like… Its like no matter what I do, you’re just willing to look past it and I don’t fucking understand Heejin… why do you put up with me, damn it?”

I stared right at him. Caught his gaze and held it, refusing to look away.

“You know why.” I whispered, licking my lips, throat dry, “ And if you don’t…. I’m not going to tell you.”

His eyes widened , lips parting and he exhaled sharply, before letting me go and stepping away.

He looked away, shaking a little and I sighed.

“Let’s just get this night over with, yeah?” I said quietly. “ and then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t reply, merely standing aside and motioning for me to leave first.

I shook my head, moving to grip his arm instead.

“Together.” I said firmly. “ We’ll get this night over with, together.”

Author’s Note : i love these two. i’ve never wanted two people to be together so much.

@taeshuworld .@girlinthemikrokosmos @xius-exos @sugainfireslex @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland @veronawrites @blr1004 @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay @squishyjk @itsdingdong @emmmui @honeeybunneey @yeonkiminnie @just-me-and-myselfs @delicate-snow-flake @kpop-lore @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld @btsmylife21 @teresaisla .@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie @ meraki–life @somewhereinthestates @mawwnsterr @kookiesbreaky @chimchoom

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@ladyartemesia @hardggukk @iliveforjin @loveemariee

@unicornbabylover @dchimminie @nope2214 @landl7xoxo

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#bts smut #bts smut fic #bts fics #bts fanfic #friends to lovers bts au #jungkook abo #jungkook smut

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distracteddegenerate · 3 years

Note

I'm sorry if this annoying but can I please get a little fanfic with the inumaki forget idea ? Sorry if this werd English isn't my first languag

Not annoying at all anon, In fact I really like this idea of yours. (Also your English is pretty good so don’t worry!) Hope you like the fic!

CHARACTERS: Inumaki Toge x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Dark Content, Noncon, Yandere, Manipulation, Mind Control/ Brain Washing, Cunnilingus

Minors Do Not Interact!

1.5k words

It was comforting, the fluff of ashen white hair that lay on your shoulder, the morning light seeping in from behind the slat blinds cascading a bright shimmer over the expanse of the snowy tufts. The individual strands were dusting your skin feather-light, tickling against you in the sway of every meager intake and exhalation of breath escaping Toge’s mouth.

You had known Toge for years now, and although you couldn’t truly remember how you even came to know him in the first place, he had effortlessly situated himself in the spot of one of your nearest and dearest. You found that his earnest silence brought you solace, words that he could not convey through sentence instead being understood through the knowing glances and expressions you had come to share with one another, the fluency of this mutual language only strengthening with the passage of time.

Now was one of those blissful moments of comfortable, knowing quiet. domestically lounging around your apartment during a day off, lazily giggling at some meme compilation in unison while leaning against one another on the settee. You couldn’t think of a better way to spend your time, this cozy sphere of amenity that you had constructed with Toge an apt repose from the outside world.

Whilst you were lost reflecting on your rosy blessings, you were suddenly brought back to reality when you felt the weight of toge’s head lift from your shoulder, turning to meet the familiar gaze of inquisitive violet eyes peering at you from behind off-white tresses.

“Are you okay, Toge?”

“Mustard Leaf.”

The response, that usually implied he was doing fine in the small dictionary of onigiri vocabulary he had come to employ.. Didn't feel genuine, to say the least. His irises were blown wide, registering your countenance as though he was trying to gleen some hidden information from your inquiring squint, when Toge began to lean further over you. You turned the front of your body to look at him directly, though you were steadily inclining your spine backwards in your perplexion at Toge’s unusual advancement.

He soon had draped his entire upper body over yours, hands reaching around your frame to press into the sofa to support himself as his face drew dangerously close to yours.

“Toge?” A heat was rising in your upper body. Sure, you and Toge were incredibly close friends.. But this was a little too much for your liking. You pressed your palms against the jut of his shoulders and pushed slightly, though with no true force. Blushing, you faced away from him, trying to announce your discomfort at his invasive approach. “T-toge.. This is a bit too-”

“Don’t move.”

And sure enough, compelled by some otherworldly force to entertain the command, you had stopped moving in your tracks. It didn’t take long for you to figure Toge had used his technique. Like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, your body froze statuesque while conflicting eyes beamed alive, frantically searching for the reasoning behind the cruel fate that was racing towards you.

An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his lips pulled tight, his usually bright irises murky with shadows of deception. Something awful was afoot. His deadpan look in conjunction with the preceding events told you this was no prank, swiftly realising that your trust in him had been irredeemably breached to the point of fear at what was coming next. Your body twitched as you strained under the spell that had been cast on you, helpless to the plummeting feeling of the safe structure of friendship you had built with Toge coming crumbling down around you.

Your fears were proven genuine when Toge’s hand began reaching forward, coming to rest on the curve of your hip. You tried to communicate with your eyes, begging for him to stop and to just think about what he was doing, but he paid no heed to it. In fact it seemed like he was ignoring your glare, focused on the task that lay at his palms. He began deftly inching your bottoms down over your pelvis, panties and all coming to a halt over your thighs, just above your kneecaps.

It was then that he shot you a glance of what seemed like sorrowfulness, as if he was fully aware he was enacting something cruel but thought it necessary. Perhaps like how a farmer would look at lame animal before putting it to rest.

Still, you were broken away from the horrid thoughts and back into a harsher reality when Toge had begun ripping the aforementioned cloth even further down your legs until they reached your calves. Shoving his hands between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressed forcefully against the flesh and separated the limbs till they spread wide. You were completely exposed, the open air cutting a chill against your privates.

He traced his fingertips over your slit, with whatever wet, however slight gathered up in it’s trailing wake. He looked you in your eyes when he brought the digits to your clit, as if looking for a reaction when he began grinding his forefingers against the sensitive nub. Unable to do so much as flinch away from the offensive touch, you mentally grit your teeth as you felt that aching bundle of nerves scream against the assault. It felt painful, at first. You were so unprepared for the sudden encroachment on your most sensitive parts, It made you want to recoil in on yourself completely, though there was nought you could do in protest.

Toge began occasionally lowering his fingers to reach directly into your core, drawing out the little slick you were producing to mercifully rub it over your clit. The lubrication meant his ministrations were less painfully direct, his motions transforming into a light flutter that felt traitorously gratifying, an unwarranted heat beginning to pool in your stomach. Your body was disobediently reacting to his touches with craving, and it made you want to hide away forever but unfortunately you were rendered completely unable to escape the explicit display you were being forced to partake in.

You felt his warm breath exhale humid air over your cunt, when you noticed from your frozen position that you couldn’t see Toge’s face any more, only the top of his alpine locks as he lowered himself further over your pulsing heat.

You knew what was coming, but you still inwardly lurched with shock at the swiping of that lithe muscle over your aching bundle. The feeling made you throb with hypersensitivity, the combination of the attention that area had received earlier now with the sudden sensation of Toge’s wet mouth lapping at you desperately causing your entire pussy to twitch around his tongue in a chase for release.

Dragging and dipping his emblazoned tongue over and between your sopping folds, he came to plant his mouth directly over your clit. He sucked over it with such vigor his cheeks completely hollowed, rolling your nub between his lips whilst deft fingers aided in your pleasure as he continued to pump them in and out of the sticky apex of your crotch.

He worked at you for some time, steady in the intensity of his applications. It wasn’t long before the sensations grew too much, pussy clenching around his fingers as you reached a climax, flood gates swinging open as you gushed helplessly over his face.

He stayed where he was for a second, before rising. When his pale face came into view, you took in the sight of your own slick washing trails down his chin, the purple tattoos it overlay on his cheek glistening prismatic in the light the sun cast over it. He looked wild, salivating at the maw, sparkling amethysts settling an intense gaze into your own eyes which were vacantly still trying to work through the thralls of your orgasm.

Yet, fear sparked them alert with dread when you saw his mouth drop open to speak once again.

“Forget.”

Even in that split second of recognition you had before your memories had been erased for (unbeknownst to you,) the umpteenth time, it was enough for an intensely visceral stream of consciousness to flood your thoughts. You realised intuitively Toge was never really the person you thought he was, and you wondered how many times you had been used like this. How much had happened, how much had you been subject to by his cursed technique. Just how much was real in that domestic setting that you had been experiencing before it all came crashing down like this.

***

If only you knew just how much of your true self had slipped away. With your hands wrapped around his cock once more, The sunset and rise beginning to melt away at the edges into a haze of warm gradients was just a pretty sight to you, the concept of time becoming irrelevant to you as you settled into your life as an ignorant hostage.

Extra Notes:

Yeah so this kinda became a fucked up version of 50 first dates.. although now that I think about it I guess 50 first dates is pretty fucked up? Also god writing a character who hardly speaks is so hard in fic format;; I guess enjoy the challenge though

#inumaki x reader #inumaki #yandere inumaki #dark jjk #jjk #noncon tw #dubcon tw #yandere tw #manipulation tw #mind control tw #brain washing tw #smut #dark content

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Lucien’s Radio Broadcast Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 电台之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This date was released on 17 May 2021 ]

[ PROLOGUE ]

Part One: A Weekend Arrangement

On the weekend morning, I wake up contentedly, doing a big stretch on the bed.

Feeling for my phone beside the pillow, I tap on the unread text that was received five minutes ago.

Lucien: Are you awake? Little Lazy Bug.

A small smile involuntary surfaces on my lips. Nuzzling the soft pillow case, I get up at one go, washing my face and brushing my teeth.

After fifteen minutes, I knock on Lucien’s door.

MC: Lucien, it’s me!

Not a moment later, he opens the door, wearing light-coloured home wear that I rarely see, a pair of golden-framed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

It’s been a while since Lucien and I last saw each other. He has been staying in the research centre recently, and I’ve been busy with filming a new show.

Since we both have a rare break, we made arrangements to meet today.

Lucien: I even thought I’d only get to see you at noon.

Upset, I look at his teasing smile.

MC: In Professor Lucien’s eyes, am I a person who doesn’t keep to her promises? I finally get to see you, so of course I’m seizing every moment.

The arcs at the corners of his lips grow deeper. He turns his body to the side, beckoning me to enter.

Following Lucien into the living room, I see several thick English books left open on the coffee table, and my shoulders droop subconsciously.

MC: Lucien, do you have work to handle today?

Lucien turns around, his eyes curving when he sees my appearance. He walks to me, then lifts my shoulders up gently.

Lucien: Of course not. I finally get to see you, so of course I have to be entirely focused.

Part Two: Pondering on the Play

After releasing a secret sigh of relief, I become curious regarding the books on the coffee table. Picking up one of the books, I see its name on the title page -

MC: “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare”? Are you reading Shakespeare’s works?

Lucien: To be more accurate, I’m selecting a play.

MC: Selecting?

Lucien doesn’t respond to my question, turning around and walking into the kitchen.

Lucien: Are there any plays that you like?

MC: Hm... I can’t think of any that I especially like. All the plays I’ve watched with you seem pretty good. What about you?

Lucien: Do you still remember the play we watched called “André & Dorine”?

[Trivia] André & Dorine depicts the enduring love between an elderly couple as their lives are disrupted, but not overcome, by dementia

MC: I remember! Was it that mime theatre production? I still remember how you pondered over the guitar case on stage for a long time after the performance was over.

Lucien: I wasn’t pondering much. It’s just that after watching it, I felt that life is very short.

Lucien brings over a cup of steaming hot cocoa from the kitchen. He places the cup in my hand naturally, his eyes meeting mine.

Lucien: It has to be spent with the person one loves.

Part Three: A Typical Day in the Radio Broadcast Station

The temperature within the house seems to rise along with the the piping hot cocoa. I pat my slightly flushed cheeks, pulling the conversation topic back.

MC: Come to think of it, why do you have to select a play?

Lucien sits down unhurriedly, his tone steady as he gives me an answer which leaves one utterly confused.

Lucien: I need to confess something to Producer MC -

Lucien: I accepted the invitation of another radio broadcast station.

After waiting for Lucien to finish with his short “confession”, I finally understand why he has to select a play.

Two days ago, Lucien received an invitation from the Loveland Radio Broadcast Station to participate in a 520 Special Broadcast Program called “A Day in a Play”.

[Note] 520 stands for 20 May, a day celebrated by the Chinese as another Valentine’s Day. This is because 我爱你 (“wo ai ni” - “I love you”) sounds like the numbers 5, 2, and 0 (“wu er ling”) when said aloud

This program regularly invites theatre fans from various occupations to share their favourite plays, and Lucien is one of them.

Hearing such news bogs me down with mixed feelings. On one hand, I’m silently in awe at the good choice made by the radio station. On the other hand...

I sneak a peek at Lucien. His head is currently lowered as he blows on the steam of the hot cocoa, his expression levelled.

...if I were to get jealous about Lucien agreeing to participate in another show, it’d be an incredibly inconsiderate thing, right?

Just as I think about this, Lucien suddenly lifts his head towards me. He crinkles his eyes into a smile, as though he has completely seen through the little grumblings in my heart from earlier.

Lucien: Oh yes, this show requires me to invite a partner. The Great Producer MC would grace me with her presence, won’t she?

[ DATE ]

Lucien: “Come live with me and be my love,”

Lucien: “And we will all the pleasures prove,”

Lucien: “That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,”

Lucien: “Woods, or steepy mountains yields.”

Lucien: “And we will sit upon rocks,”

Lucien: “Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,”

Lucien: “By shallow rivers to whose falls,”

Lucien: “Melodious birds sing madrigals.”

Lucien: “...if these flights thy mind may move,”

Lucien: “Then live with me and be my love.”

Lucien: What do you think about this poem? Do you like it?

Lucien sets down the manuscript in his hand, lifting his eyes slowly.

He’s leaning next to the window of the guest lounge. The warm light of spring falls on his shoulders, creating a mild, brilliant white halo in the air.

A few days ago, Lucien invited me to participate in the 520 Special Broadcast Program called “A Day in a Play”.

The content of this show consists of idle talk related to plays, and it regularly invites theatre fans from various occupations to share about their favourite plays.

The stanza that Lucien just read aloud came from a poem written by a playwright called Christopher Marlowe.

MC: I like it very much.

Returning to my senses, my expression is sincere as I look at him.

MC: Lucien, have you ever thought of changing occupations and becoming an actor?

When Lucien hears this, his eyes arch into a smile. He walks over, tapping the manuscript gently on the top of my head.

Lucien: An exaggerated compliment would make it lose its sincerity.

Just as I’m about to firmly express my sincerity, I notice from the corner of my eye that there are several markings on Lucien’s manuscript.

Leaning over to get a better look, I realise that those markings are notes taken down on the poem by Lucien with a pen.

I recall how he’s been incredibly busy in the previous period, and how there were many times when I had to remind him to eat...

Even so, he made notes on the manuscript regarding reciting techniques for this show. In my heart, I deeply respect his endless energy. At the same time, I can’t help but be envious.

MC: Does Professor Lucien need to do homework beforehand too?

Lucien: Techniques are required for specialised skills. I’m not a professional at reciting poetry, so of course I need to do my homework beforehand.

I deliberately fold my arms, letting out quiet “hmph”s.

MC: But you don’t seem to do any preparations as a consultant for Miracle Finder.

Lucien: Since I’m a consultant, I can’t let the producer of the show see me do last minute work.

He draws slightly closer to me, lowering his voice.

Lucien: At a place you can’t see, I’ve always been working hard for you.

The evident slyness in his tone causes my breathing to turn slightly ragged. Clearing my throat, I put some distance between us.

MC: [blushing] That’s not what I meant...

Lucien: I understand.

Meaningful arcs hook the corners of his lips, as though he sees through the feelings in my heart. He tugs me over to sit on the sofa in the guest lounge.

Lucien: Or should I only participate in the shows you produce next time?

MC: ...I’m not asking you to go that far either!

He narrows his eyes and turns his head to the side, pretending to give it some thought.

Lucien: In that case, I’ll always ask for Producer MC’s opinion before appearing on a show. Is that okay?

I nod, face red from his teasing. All of a sudden, my heart stirs.

MC: Verbal statements can’t be relied upon. Concrete evidence is needed.

I lift my hand, removing the small hair tie on my ponytail. Then, I indicate for Lucien to give me his hand.

He seems to guess what I plan to do. Supporting his chin casually with one hand, he stretches the other hand in front of me.

With a serious expression, I put on the hair tie on his wrist solemnly, as though I’m conducting a formal ceremony.

MC: It shall be the evidence. In future, the Professor Lucien on the big screen will be completely reserved by me!

After sitting in the lounge for a while, the director comes over and goes through today’s show schedule with Lucien and I briefly.

The show is segmented into reading letters from theatre fans, reciting monologues from plays, and monologue appreciation, among other things.

In every episode, this show will choose a particular theme of plays, which will then be used to expand on the contents of the show.

In order to be in line with the special day of 520, the theme for this episode has been set as the “possessiveness” between lovers.

As such, the plays and characters we selected are related to “possessiveness”.

The first segment consists of sharing letters from listeners. The show team had collected various reviews of plays from listeners, as well as their personal takeaways from the plays.

There’s only ten minutes before the show begins. Seizing this final free time, I sit in the studio, skimming through these letters briefly.

Some of the letters include analysis spanning over a thousand words on the extreme possessiveness of some classic characters in plays...

Some of the letters created a hearty one-act play based on the word “possessiveness”.

My line of sight roams over these letters, and I can sense someone leaning over from the side.

Lucien: What are you looking at?

MC: Letters from the listeners. Which letter would you like to read later?

Lucien glances at the open letters on the table for a while. Then, the corners of his lips suddenly curve upwards.

Just as I'm about to follow his line of sight, the director gives us a signal from outside, telling us that the countdown to the broadcast is about to begin.

Suppressing my curiosity, Lucien and I begin today’s radio broadcast with the guidance of the host.

The segment of reading letters arrives on schedule. I select a satisfactory review of a play to read. Very quickly, it’s almost time for Lucien to read a letter.

Host: Would Professor Lucien be reading an interesting review of a play as well?

Lucien picks up a pink coloured envelope in the middle directly, as though he has long since made a decision.

Lucien: Even though it isn’t a review, ever since I saw this letter before the show, I really wanted to share it with everyone. However, it looks like the owner of this letter is female. If I were to read it, I’m afraid it’d be slightly inappropriate.

Lucien turns over, handing the letter to me.

Lucien: Could I request Producer MC to read it for me?

I blink, taking the letter without knowing what’s going on.

Opening the letter, the childish handwriting brings with it a fragrance as it unfolds before my eyes.

MC: “Hello hosts, I’m a student from junior high.”

Slightly puzzled, I look at Lucien. He smiles slightly, indicating that I should continue reading.

MC: “Recently, I’ve been feeling troubled.”

MC: “Ever since coming to junior high school, my deskmate has been a very playful boy, and he always bullies me.”

MC: “He often tugs on my ponytail, or asks me to give him my seat in the canteen. Even though he gives me snacks, he says that it’s only because he doesn’t want to eat them.”

MC: “While eating his snacks one day, a classmate suddenly teased us and asked if we liked each other. At that time, I was in a fluster and shouted without realising, ‘How could I like him!’”

MC: “Ever since then... my deskmate hasn't spoken to me.”

MC: “I thought I’d be really happy since I’m freed from his bullying. But whenever I see him distributing snacks to other girls, I actually feel the impulse to cry.”

MC: “I even secretly placed his snacks on my own table, pretending that my deskmate gave them to me...”

MC: “ --so that I can attempt to stake my claim in front of other girls.”

MC: “Last week, I watched a stage play, and the experiences of the lead character were somewhat similar to mine.”

MC: “Afterwards, I read the reviews. Everyone was saying that the lead character was fiercely possessive, and a little abnormal...”

MC: “Am I also such a person? What counts as being possessive? Is being possessive truly an illness?”

After reading the last line, I lift my head to meet Lucien’s eyes, giving him a knowing smile.

Host: I didn’t expect Professor Lucien to select such an adorable letter. How would you respond to this young listener’s question?

Lucien: I’m very sorry, but I’m unable to respond. This question might require a consultation with a professional. But I once read a document on concepts in psychology related to “possessiveness”, and I could share it with everyone.

Lucien stretches his hand towards me, and I hand the letter to him in tacit understanding.

He unfolds the letter, casually lifting his spectacles. Then, he lowers his hand, his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the table.

The sound of tapping stops abruptly. He lifts his hand to support his lips, then tilts his head slightly, as though recalling the contents of the document.

Lucien: The following information is for everyone’s reference. Possessiveness is typically expressed as an exceptional cherishing of the other party, and being concerned about the other party in various aspects of their life.

For some inexplicable reason, along with Lucien’s words, I suddenly recall scenes of myself heading to the research centre to bring him bentos.

Lucien: Only allowing oneself and the other party to have a connection, and not wishing for others to get close to the other party.

My heart once again inexplicably recalls the bitter taste when I heard of Lucien participating in this show.

Lucien: If one finds that the other party no longer belongs to them, they’d use all sorts of methods to stake their claim.

Lucien appears to deliberately twist his wrist slightly, revealing the small hair tie on it.

...I have a feeling that Lucien is implicitly referring to me. I keep my eyes on Lucien, and can’t help but purse my lips.

He seems to sense my “complaint”, but his eyes remain on the letter in his hand, a smile on his lips tugging upwards.

Lucien: This is simply a definition, and isn’t enough to ascertain the intensity of a person’s possessiveness. However, satisfying one’s possessiveness in an appropriate manner isn’t a bad thing. If possessiveness is unable to obtain a suitable outlet, it’d end up violently engulfing the originally balanced love. Furthermore, possessiveness isn’t a disease.

Lucien sets down the letter. As though sensing my gaze, he turns his head and gives me a slight smile.

Lucien: It accompanies a strong love. It’s a human instinct.

After the letter reading segment, Lucien, as the main guest, has to read a monologue from a certain play in the next segment.

This play narrates an account in mid-century Europe, involving the love story of a wealthy lady and a butler who grew up together since young.

This butler was naturally more intelligent than others, and had a composed temperament. If he were to craft a career for himself, he’d do far better than being a butler.

However, in order stay by the side of his beloved lady, he was willing to remain within the four walls.

The naive wealthy lady didn’t understand the genuine feelings of the butler. Like every other wealthy lady, she looked forward to marrying her own prince.

But when she was arranged to get married to a wealthy duke, her heart started to waver.

Because the intensity of the butler’s possessiveness went to his head, he eventually poisoned the wealthy lady, then vanished into the night.

With his own hands, he buried the love of his life, and from then on became a fugitive, living a life that was neither dead nor alive.

The monologue that Lucien is about to read is taken from the part after the butler finds out that the lady is inclined to marrying the duke. It’s the first time he reveals the depth of his possessiveness.

Lucien selected this monologue himself, and I can’t help but anticipate it.

Host: Listeners and friends, we’ll now lend our ears to Professor Lucien -

Lucien nods slightly, tilting his head towards me and blinking slowly. His lowered voice gradually seeps into the earpieces.

Lucien: “I thought she was just a canary which would only sit by the window...”

Lucien: “When the sun rises every morning, she’d be at the glass window, facing the blazing sunlight and preening its feathers to its heart’s content.”

Rich affection is in Lucien’s voice. It’s as though I can see a talented and handsome young man staring at the girl’s back in the room with deep feelings.

Lucien: “Her wings are vibrant and heart-stirring. She spends a lot of time on them, combing them gently with a bristle brush.”

Lucien: “Whenever this happens, I’d stand behind her, carrying a cup of hot tea, waiting for her quietly.”

Lucien: “I know that in this moment, she belongs only to me.”

Lucien’s voice suddenly turns soft and barely discernible. I can’t help but be immersed in it -

The modern studio around me suddenly shifts, as though turning into wooden furniture in Western Europe.

Ripples of colour reflect off the windows and onto the floor, glistening with light. An expensive fragrance of rogue diffuses in the room.

Lucien: “Only I know what she's thinking of, and only I understand everything about her.”

I turn my head to Lucien, who is behind me. He’s wearing a fitting suit, standing at a spot where shadows and light mingle.

Lucien: “We will be forgotten in this place by the world, but the strings of fate will tie us together.”

He suddenly pauses, the intermingling of shadows and light distorting his expression into shreds. He trembles slightly in the darkness.

Lucien: “...before meeting that duke, she was always in front of that glass window, being my bird.”

Lucien: “She should realise that if she were to fly out, she would have cuts and bruises all over from those impetuous dandies.”

Lucien: “She would discover that there is an entire sky of canaries which are just as beautiful and frail as her. Those dandies only have to reach out gently--”

Lucien: “And her beloved feathers would be easily plucked out.”

Lucien: “If this is the ending... if this is the only ending...”

Lucien: “Then her feathers should belong to me.”

When I see his calm and shadowed expression, I hold my breath momentarily.

Lucien: “Only belonging to me.”

The monologue ends.

Lucien: In the short span of one minute, you’ve already hesitated to say something to me five times.

Lucien sighs, setting down the cup of water in his hand.

After the monologue ended, the subsequent segments no longer involve the guests that much.

Lucien and I have left the studio earlier, and are sitting on the sofa in the lounge, waiting for the show to officially come to an end.

It’s just that... ever since we stepped out of the studio and I saw Lucien returning to his normal state, my heart has had difficulties making the adjustment.

MC: ...I was just so stunned.

Tickled by the exaggerated tone in my voice, Lucien chuckles softly.

Lucien: I’ll take that as a compliment.

MC: Of course it’s a compliment! I didn’t expect you to perform so well. You were basically an entirely different person earlier!

Lucien: I was simply portraying the role as I understood it. But I accept Producer MC’s compliment.

He takes a shallow sip of tea calmly, returning to how Lucien typically is, and completely different from the butler he was acting as earlier.

Seeing him like this, a question suddenly surfaces in my heart -

I wonder what Lucien’s possessiveness looks like?

Director: Sorry for the wait! The two of you have worked hard today!

After the show ends, the director returns to the lounge, carrying a stack of manuscripts in his hand.

Director: The responses for today’s show are extremely good! Many thanks to Professor Lucien and Miss MC for the spectacular performance!

Lucien: We’re also grateful for your invitation to participate in this show.

Director: Professor Lucien is too polite. Both of you truly did very well. The comment board for the show is filled with positive remarks. To tell you the truth, there’s something I need to ask of the two of you.

The director unfolds the manuscript in his hand. Lucien and I lower our heads to look at it. It’s the script from that earlier play.

Director: We’d like to include a special 520 Easter egg for this episode’s theme. It would be the final scene between the butler and the wealthy lady. Earlier, Professor Lucien’s monologue left a deep impression on the listeners, and the responses were very enthusiastic. If possible, could you and Producer MC record this Easter egg today?

The director clasps his hands together, inviting Lucien sincerely. However, Lucien turns his line of sight to me.

Lucien: My rights to participate in a show belong to this lady. If she agrees, I’ll naturally have no issues with it.

The director looks over in confusion. Just as Lucien is about to showcase the hair tie with a dead serious expression, I hurriedly agree.

MC: Yes! We can!

The director unclasps his hands quickly, preparing for the recording of the Easter egg. Lucien and I remain in the studio to go over the lines.

After familiarising myself with my lines, I lift my head, realising that Lucien is leaning against the sofa, reading the script meticulously and silently.

Seeing him look so serious, I suddenly become curious again.

MC: Lucien, could I ask you a question?

Lucien: Does it have to do with why I agreed to participate in this show?

MC: ...as expected, I can’t hide anything from you.

He sets down the manuscript, grinning as he tidies the hair at my ear.

Lucien: I simply care about you exceptionally. I’m guessing that what you want to know even more is why I’d bring you along to participate in this show.

My eyes widen slightly, and I give him a thumbs up.

He chuckles after seeing this. Waves of gentleness ripple in those eyes that have always been difficult to read.

Lucien: I know that we differ from others in the way we’re always handling our own matters. It’s difficult to meet, much less have each others’ time. I also know that you’re always doing your best to give your free time to me -

Lucien: Bringing me bentos with plenty of dishes, attending conferences when I release new books, and taking me to see the spring day in your eyes.

Lucien: So, I want to tell you that whether or not you can see it, I’m also doing my best to own every moment of your free time.

Lucien: To me, participating in this show is akin to watching a movie together. I simply want it to be a special moment for us which belongs only to you and me.

He leans down, drawing closer to me, encasing my surroundings with his unique scent.

Looking into his eyes, a wave of gentleness seems to ripple in my heart, and my cheeks flush slightly.

MC: I’ll also do my best to create special moments belonging only to the both of us. I’ll invite Professor Lucien to look forward to them.

Lucien: You being like this is already good enough.

The corners of his eyes turn upwards, and he puts some distance between us.

Lucien: Let’s go over the lines together. The director’s waiting for us to record the Easter egg.

I nod. Taking a deep breath, I return my focus to the script again.

In the final scene between the butler and the wealthy lady, the wealthy lady is holding a love letter she wrote to the duke, naively wanting the butler to polish her writing.

Even though she senses that she shouldn’t let the butler see this letter, he’s the person she trusts most.

In front of the butler, she’s like a young girl experiencing her first awakening of love as she reads the love letter aloud.

The butler, whose unbridled possessiveness and intense jealousy have rushed to his head, finally poisons his beloved in his arms after she reads the final line.

Using a letter from a listener as a prop, I place it in his hand and begin the monologue.

MC: “You must definitely listen to this letter...”

MC: “It contains my heartfelt sincerity. No matter what, I don’t want there to be any mistakes.”

Lucien: "If you read it to me, it will be your first mistake.”

MC: “Please! You’ve never refused anything I ask of you. I’ll just treat it as tacit consent, just like always!”

MC: “Dearest Great Duke...”

MC: “I’m writing this letter to you, and it contains my sincerity...”

Following the script, I read the letter written to the duke.

MC: “...and with this, I look forward to your reply.”

These are the final words on the letter. Following this, there are a series of stage directions.

“The wealthy lady grips her love letter, brimming with anticipation as she stares out of the window. The butler is silent, handing her a cup of hot tea as he usually does.”

“The lady drinks it without putting up any defences, but doesn’t know that he had poisoned this cup. The love letter floats to the ground, and she falls into the butler’s arms.”

“...he speaks into her ear: ‘You belong only to me.’ The canary in his arms twitches for a while, then never stirs again.”

Seeing the tragic ending of this love story, my heart can’t help but sigh.

The butler’s love made him lose his mind. In order to possess his beloved forever, he pushed both himself and her into hell with his own hands.

I recall the scene from before when Lucien was reading the monologue, and how he usually has eyes as calm as a deep pond.

That earlier thought once again surfaces in my mind -

I wonder what Lucien’s possessiveness looks like?

Just when I’m thinking about this, I feel a forceful tug on my arm.

I stumble, then fall into familiar arms.

Puzzled, I turn my head towards Lucien. A sense of restraint is concealed in his eyes, and the unfathomable dark eyes hold within them intense emotions.

Lucien: “This letter will never be sent, just as the bird will forever remain in her cage.”

Lucien takes a deep breath, leaning his weight against my body.

I feel scorching breaths on my exposed shoulders, and his hand brushes against my lips gently.

Lucien: “You can only belong to me.”

A familiar scent cages me in his embrace. For a moment, I’m unable to tell if the person before me is the butler who went mad because of love, or if he’s Lucien himself.

I abruptly return to my senses - the performance should already be over.

However, Lucien doesn’t let go of me, as though he hasn’t disengaged from the performance.

Just as I prepare to remind him that it’s over, he suddenly leans near, leaving a soft kiss at the corner of my lips.

Lucien: Very sweet. I’m referring to the taste of the tea.

Stunned, I look at Lucien - he’s changing the ending of the script...

While he looks at me, the foreign emotions in his eyes suddenly vanish. Then, he crinkles his eyes into a smile, just like how he smiles at me every time.

I already knew that I couldn't hide anything from him.

This is his response to that question I’ve never asked -

Lucien: The person I want to possess will eventually possess me.

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dodo-begone · 3 years

Text

Ugly Fuckling

Pairing: Yandere!Xisuma x Reader

Request: mmm for requests: some soft yandere shit with any character, maybe??

Word count: 3.9K

Warning: yandere, cursing, depression (?), Anxiety (?), angst (to comfort), dissociation

Part 2 for this is Now Listen Here Sad Bitches - Stop Being Sad

If this EVER looks funky/glitched (which it def is now) I have this up properly on Ao3.

__________________________________________________________

The shopping district made you uneasy. Life just seemed to course through the area. Even without anyone actually being there to give it the energy. It was cramped though; everything was practically on top of each other. Yet it gave such a homey feeling. Like everybody who made the buildings actually liked each other; they all were a representation of how everyone was different but still similar to a family. Standing in front of all of the shops made you feel intimidated. Small, insignificant, inadequate.

You start your journey through the district, looking and giving every build the attention it deserved. It was all in an attempt to imbed everything into your memory. After all, you wouldn’t be around for much longer. Someone like you, who was so alien to the server, shouldn’t just try and worm their way into such an amazing community like this. Especially when they have nothing to offer for said community.

You hadn’t realized where you were walking until you stood in front of Grian’s barge. It was so gorgeous and well made. Grian told you how it began as a small little boat build and progressively grew to the giant floating market it is today. The story was awe inspiring; like an ugly duckling, it grew into something majestic after starting at such humble beginnings. Yet it did little to lift your spirits now. Yeah the barge started as a simple build, but it was still beautiful in its tiny state. And Grian had the talent and skill to make ginormous and intricate builds. You had neither of those abilities.

Slowly you made your way closer to the barge. At the entrance there were numerous posters all bunched together on a post. All for the mayoral campaign. They were so cute, each having a unique look. Representing their mayors very well. But Scar’s. Oh Scar’s was just elite. It was a plain wooden sign; a small but even more unique technique when compared to the others. Nothing beat some good ole fashioned petitioning. You let out a small giggle at the sight of Scar’s sign next to the others. It seemed very out of place. Seemed like a solid representation of you with the hermits. And at the same time it reminded you so much of the Dream smp.

The Dream smp… your old home. Calling the dream smp home feels wrong; you barely felt safe there, but you knew that you were wanted there. Even if just a few actually cared about you, loved you. You fit in so much better there. Your horrendous builds could easily blend in with the others or better yet, stand out amongst the surrounding disasters to look semi-decent. Yes there were actual beautiful builds, just like any other server, but they were few and far between. Those builds were under constant threat of being griefed or destroyed, just like all of the others. Yet everybody seemed mostly okay with it. They would be upset when it would be destroyed, like any normal person would. But they only had two options when presented with the rubble; pick up the fragments and rebuild from the ground up or forever abandon what was once a masterpiece.

With the hermits, there was order there. The chaos was controlled, which was an odd concept to you. Chaos on the Dream smp ran rampant, destroying anything in its path. And there even seemed to be a “type” of person that was deemed a “hermit”. Thought it was hard to pick out something that everybody had in common. But you knew one thing; you didn’t fit the description of a hermit.

On the Dream smp, everything was always on the brink of destruction and very tense. Things could change on the flip of a dime. Nothing was guaranteed. And yet you still wanted to go back there. To feel wanted, important, enough, to be validated. To be so much more than you were with the hermits. With the hermits, you were only an imposter; everything they said to or about you was a lie. Had to be a lie. Why else would you be like this super kinda and incredible person? The person they were describing wasn't even you. It was a whole different person, how could they not see that?!

Leaning against the outerwall of the barge, you slowly slide to the ground. You start a panoramic view from your new position. It only made you feel worse; you felt detached from your body. Like you were watching a movie of you and your life from an outsider’s view. But you had control of your body and could still kinda see through your eyes, which made it feel even weirder. So more like you were walking through a movie that you weren’t made for; a real person wandering the domain of a cartoon show.

A shaky breath breaks it way through your lips. Trails of tears soon start to trickle down your face, slightly obscuring the view you had. Suddenly the world becomes too big yet too small. Much duller, less important. Everything became too much yet not enough all at the same time. Soon the feeling overwhelmed you so much that you broke down into a sobbing mess. The wanted to hide your face in your hands and knees hung over you like a tsunami wave, but you knew you shouldn’t. These were your last moments and views of the hermitcraft server. Even if you couldn’t see clearly anymore. Any view was better than no view. You tried to muffle your cries; do anything to stay silent and unseen. Nobody really wanted to deal with a crying person. They just felt obligated to.

God you were such a burden on all of the hermits. You could barely support yourself with your shitty little farm. Barely any food was produced. And the hermits kept giving you stuff: ores, food, weapons, armour, just about anything you could think of. Golden carrots, golden apples, elytras, diamonds and netherite were the gifts that made you feel the worst. These were such wonderful, valuable, and useful items. Nobody would give them out for free, even to a friend. Especially as often as they did.

So you’d set out on a journey to figure out who’d gifted you stuff and return it immediately. First you just left them in a chest with a book or sign explaining that you didn’t want to accept their gift. It felt wrong that they were giving them such nice stuff. They’d always bring it back to you though. It burned your heart. Both from how sweet the gesture was and the physical pain you felt taking it from them. After a few cycles of this, people started to stop telling you who gave you that new item of yours. Even when you begged them for answers.

You had to turn to more drastic measures. Every gift you got was soon carefully investigated for any sign of who could’ve given it to you. There wasn't a way to easily get an answer from the other hermits. They had gotten suspicious of your past tactics, so you had to change your approach.

So you went with the closest guess. Even if they weren’t the one to give it to you, you’d give it to them. When the “gifter” left their base, you’d swiftly sneak in and start to put the items back in their storage. Many of them had chest monsters, so it was easier to put the items in their chests. After all, they wouldn’t really notice more items in the giant mess of items they already had. Then there were the ones with organized sorting systems. You’d search for their proper homes and place them in there. Since these people usually had big storage facilities, it wouldn't be hard to hide a few other items in there. What were the odds that they’d notice that they had a little more of an item than they last remember?

Aw who were you kidding, they’d obviously notice a whole inventory’s worth of golden carrots in their chests. But you deluded yourself into believing that your attempts worked. Believing a beautiful life was much easier and felt better than facing the less-than enjoyable truth.

When you finally calmed down enough, you went over your mental plan again. It had to be absolutely perfect. With no flaws or kinks. This couldn’t fail. Every attempt before had ended in fucking failure. You’d look so bad to the hermits if you failed in leaving again. Why did you still care about what they thought of you? That’s such a silly thing to still care about.

Each plan before had one step that’d always thwarted your leave; you always said goodbye to somebody. At first it started with a big group of hermits, but with each attempt the group got smaller and smaller.

When you’d go to say your goodbyes, the hermit you were talking to would get upset. They’d begged you to stay. Or they’d ask you to help them on this one last project. And then another hermit would ask, and then another. Until you were helping a hermit as soon as you finished a project. You were almost never alone for a while. Slowly the thought of leaving would be pushed further and further back into your mind. Until it was practically gone; only echoes of it would remain to haunt you at night. This was a continuous cycle, and you wanted it to end.

This time you weren’t going to get stopped. Having fewer people in the plan makes it easier to leave. That meant nobody was going to get an in-person goodbye. Everybody had an individual letter addressed to them from you and one for the entire server. It was better this way. They wouldn’t have the chance to stop you.

You don’t know how much time passed, nor did you really care. God you wanted to stay here so bad, yet you couldn’t. This wasn’t where you belonged. You weren’t meant to be here.

With a heavy sign, you hauled yourself off the ground and made your way to the edge of the server. Every moment was precious now, so you decided to dawdle as much as you could. Nobody was going to stop you, so you had time. After all, nobody was going to be finding the letters anytime soon.

To savor every last second on the server, you traversed by boat and foot. Yes you’d miss the elytras, but you wanted to travel the old fashioned way. The way you were used to doing it. Elytras weren’t on the Dream smp, so you needed to start getting used to not having them again.

It felt like seconds before you were at the edge. A few blinks and bam! You were at your final destination on the Hermitcraft server. It was now or never. All you had to do was take a few steps over and you would be back on the Dream smp. Yet your feet refused to move. Why weren’t they moving? This was for the greater good. Yes you wouldn’t be happy there immediately, but you’d grow used to it again.

You started to take deep breaths, trying to hype yourself up to take the final steps. It was like three steps, come on. You can do it. The trip here was longer and harder than this. Don’t let something this small ruins all the work you’ve done. God it was like you were like a walking failure. You couldn’t even finish something you started, something you wanted done. A small part of you whispered, begged you to say with the hermits. But it was soon covered by a much louder part of the mind, telling you that this was the best thing you could do for everyone. Come on, they wouldn’t miss you at all. With one final breath, you took a step forward.

“What’re you doing?” a voice seemed to yell. God it was so quiet. Why was it so quiet? Literally any noise was too loud now.

You stopped. Oh no, did you take too long getting here? Man you really should’ve used that elytra instead. Would’ve made this trip so much easier and faster.

Slowly you turn around to see who interrupted you. And low and behold, it’s Xisuma. He was a little ways away from you, which you were thankful for. It was surprising to see him so far away from the server though. Did he find the notes. Shit, fuck, no no no-. You really hope he hadn’t found them.

“I’m just looking around” a nervous shell of your voice answers. It sounded so empty, like the wind could easily blow it away with just a single gentle gust. You desperately look over where Xisuma’s face would be in hopes of finding out what he was feeling or thinking. That mask of his blocked it, so it was futile. But you had to know what he thought about you now. Was he disappointed? Did he hate you? Especially for how you tried to leave?

“This far out,” he spreads his arms out, gesturing to the world around y’all. It was practically deserted. There was only an island, and you two were standing on it. Ocean covered the world to the horizon. Logically you knew you had no reason to be out here other than to leave. You knew Xisuma knew as well. He had to. He was the admin, after all.

“Uh,” you frantically look around, hoping to find anything to help you get out of this tense situation. You hated this. Hated confrontation. This was a reason you left the Dream smp. “Yeah I wanted a good sight for the uh- for the sunset. Yes, the sunset! It’s so pretty when you’re so far from the mainland. Away from all the buildings that could obstruct the view.”

It took a second for your words to finally hit you, and when they did it felt like a slap to the face. “I’m not saying the builds are bad,” you desperately backpedal, trying to change the possible interpretation of your words. “I mean they’re very big. Big and pretty! Yes, very pretty! But they block the skyline so easily and the sunset and sunrise are just hidden by them. And sometimes the light pollution really gets in the way of stargazing- I’m rambling aren’t I? I’m sorry.”

You stared at Xisuma, wishing for him to give you any sign as to what he was thinking. But the black visor thwarted you attempts again; his face was unviewable with his helmet on.

Wait how could you have been so self absorbed to not notice what Xisuma is wearing. He adorned a little bee/wasp (you had a hard time telling the difference at the moment) themed outfit. It was like a whole bodysuit. And he had a little bee/wasp helmet too! Oh my gosh it was the little bee outfit he owned! The one you really liked! He was actually wearing it? The outfit you said looked really good on him? No, wait. He might just like it as well. That’s probably why he’s wearing it. Stupid, remember you’re not special. Especially to anyone. Why can’t you get that through your thick brain?

Xisuma must have seen the emotional trip you just went on. It must’ve been obvious, right? Written all over your face?

“You’re not wrong,” Xisuma starts. “The builds can be rather disruptive of a good view of the sunset or sunrise. But if you wanted a good viewing spot, you could’ve just asked me. I wouldn’t have minded showing you one.”

“That would’ve been such a stupid thing to ask,” you sniffle, barely having the strength to look him in the eyes. Well, where his eyes should be. “Going up to an admin and saying ‘I can’t see the sunrise or sunset well. Can you show me a good viewing spot’ isn’t exactly something you ask an admin. Usually it’s something along the lines of ‘hey this player took my stuff’ or ‘I’m stuck in a hole and need help.’”

Silence smothers the two of you. Your words were heavy. Made your mouth dry too. Wow is it hot out or just you? It’s really fucking hot out here.

“Again,” Xisuma breaks the silence,” I wouldn’t have minded at all. I’m here for you. For the hermits. And I’m here to help. Why do you think my help wouldn’t extend to you?”

You ponder over his question. Now that he states it like that, how can you just make up a stupid excuse? The care he showed in his explanation made you feel warm and fuzzy. Even if it wasn’t a lot. It made you feel special. Just for that moment. He doesn’t deserve a sucky lie. He deserved the truth. You owed it to him. Then you’ll stop being a bother to him and leave. Right… leave.

“Because I’m not a hermit, Xisuma,” you murmur, hugging yourself for comfort. “I don’t think I ever was. Or ever will be, for that matter.”

“And why not,” Xisuma prods, taking a step towards you. “You are a hermit. You’re on the hermit server and you have been for quite a while now. Everyone loves you. They love you so much. I love you so much.”

That question hurts you. It hurts you so much and yet you have no reason for it to hurt you this much. The statement was false and you knew it. So it shouldn’t hold this much power over you. He’s wrong and you know it. But how do you break it to him?

Yeah, break the news to him. The only thing breaking is you. Xisuma’s mask, which you had once adored, scared you. Intimidated you and made you feel inadequate. The more you looked, the worse you felt.

And so you give in. “Because I’m not one of you. I’d never be one of you. No matter what I did, it’d never amount to what everyone else can do! Grian can make magnificent builds, Scar can landscape like a god, and Mumbo can make literally anything and everything out of redstone. Everybody has something that they’re good at, something they specialize in. And me,” your voice cracks. You drop to the ground on your knees, curling into yourself. “I can’t do anything. I can’t build, can’t farm and I can’t even do simple redstone. I’m a literal dunce. I’ll never be able to do anything right. I’ll never be enough, especially on a server like this with so many incredible people like you. And everyone is so nice. I don’t deserve this kindness. I’m a horrible person. And-and I just don’t belong here. It’d be better if a burden like me is gone, out of your hair. It’d be better if I went back to the Dream smp. Where I can’t be a burden to anybody here.” You finally break down. Sobs shook your body and any words that came out after that were unintelligible.

Suddenly there’s a presence near you, giving you a hug. You flinch, but know it’s Xisuma. Who else could it be? He was the only one here with you. He lets go of you slowly, but you quickly latch onto him and hide in the crook of his neck. You really wanted some comfort. You wanted Xisuma’s hugs. You didn’t want to be left alone.

He goes back to gently holding you, quietly telling you that everything was going to be okay. And other things. Everything just went in one ear and out the other. But he’s giving you soft and steady backrubs. You snuggle closer to him. God this was like a whole comfort package! It just made you want to cry harder. And he just stays there! Letting you cry on him. He’s so nice to little ole you.

Soon you tuckered yourself out from crying. You’re so tired, but you’re still crying. Sadness just courses through you. But you’re so tired. Slowly your sobs turn to sniffle and you try to bring him even closer to you.

“Feel any better,” he tries his best to look at you after your sniffles are all that’re coming out of you. It’s really hard to look at someone so close to you.

You nod against him, too tired to answer verbally. Plus your voice probably sounds terrible and wouldn’t be able to handle answering anyways.

He picks you up, holding you close to him and walks away from the border. You’re so thankful that Xisuma is carrying you. It makes you feel so loved. And your body was so weak after your breakdown.

Soon you two are on a boat, heading back to the rest of the hermits. He’s rowing y’all home. You cuddle into him, wanting as much physical contact as you can get. You’re so tired, but you don’t want to sleep just yet. But you still doze off anyways. As you do though, Xisuma starts to talk to you.

“Thank you for staying with us. With me. I really appreciate that. I love you, remember that. I’ll tell you that a million times if I have to. I’d tell you daily, hourly. Whatever you want. Just don’t leave, please. I love you so much. It’d hurt if you left. If I lost you. But it also hurts to see you in so much pain. Oh I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you sooner. I should've seen the signs. But I’m here. I’ll help you. I love you so much. I’ll stay with you as long as you’re with me. I’d follow you to the end and back.”

You can’t exactly hear what he’s saying, but it must be really nice. The tone of it is so comforting. Wait hold up. Weren’t you doing something. Struggling to stay awake, you mind scrambles for an answer. The border. Yes, the border! You were there. But for what? You couldn’t remember anymore. But was it important if you forgot? Oh who cares, you got Xisuma with you! You were home! That’s all that mattered.

As you finally start to drift off, you mutter an ‘i love you’ to him, finally falling into a well deserved slumber.

#tw: yandere #dodo writing #mcyt x reader #tw: cursing #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: dissociation #tw: angst #hermitcraft x reader #xisuma x reader #yandere #yandere xisuma #c: xisuma #hermitship

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years

Note

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a fluffy Lydia x reader where the reader is really bad at flirting, but absolutely loves being flirted with, as well as cuddling and being cuddled! Y’know, the usual fluff stuff. ❤️❤️❤️ Love ur aesthetics btw!

Natural Beauty

Masterlist

1 634 words

tw: none, just a bit of fluff in hallways at lunch

a/n: ahhhh!! Thank you so much for the request! I’m sorry it took this long, chemistry is taking up a lot of my time. I hope this is alright!! (and thank you for being my first request 💕)

“You need to learn how to repress your feelings better, it’s incredibly obvious,” your friend Anya said out of the blue from the desk beside you.

You whipped your head around. “What? What’s obvious?”

“You like her, plain as day, you’ve been staring at her for weeks. She’s your best friend, just tell her,” she went back to writing whatever was written on the chalkboard.

“I do not!” Your voice rose an octave. “She’s just that, a friend.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” she smirked at you.

You hadn’t been staring at her, just... admiring her. She was a work of the best artist, her smile perfect and lifted the clouds from your mind, how could anyone not admire her? But this was different. She was your closest friend, and you were her first friend at school, though that had been a different time. You both were young and innocent, now you were a year away from graduating and everything seemed to become more free-flowing and fast-paced. But Lydia was always there, she was the constant throughout all of it, who helped you when no one else could. She laughed at your terrible puns and stayed late on the phone to help you stop crying. She’d trusted you enough that she even invited you to meet her dad and stepmother and told you ghost stories until you drifted off to sleep beside her.

“You’re staring again,” Anya mumbled.

“I’m never sitting next to you again,” you sarcastically grumbled, trying to catch up on the photography notes.

Lydia sat a couple rows in front of you beside the window, her face always illuminated by the natural light while she furiously scribbled down notes and listened intently. She was incredibly talented; she could be accepted into the best schools for photography and that would be with her ‘worst’ photos. She just loved it so much.

“Okay class,” the teacher started, standing up to pack her bags. “There will be a project due in the next couple of days, very simple and covers what we’ve learned so far. I want you to find a natural beauty and capture it, keeping in mind the composition techniques we’ve learned. This will determine your status in the course.”

As she finished, the irritating bell rang over the intercom, signalling the start of lunch and a bit of freedom.

You and Anya packed your things and left the classroom in a hurry, not wanting to be caught in the stampede of students. You both stood close to the wall, waiting for Lydia.

The highway of students thinned out and only the ones who hung out in the hallways at lunch were occupying it.

“What’s taking her so long, I’ve got food to eat,” Anya asked.

“Dunno, maybe she’s talking with Ms. Wilson?” You shrugged.

“If she doesn’t come out soon, I’m gonna starve to death. I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, she can’t be much longer,” you reasoned, looping your arm in hers so she wouldn’t abandon you.

“This could be considered hostage-taking,” she retorted.

“This is a sign of friendship.”

She chuckled at that. “You’re so ‘sunshine and rainbows’, maybe Lydia will change that.”

“What am I changing?” Lydia walked out of the classroom with Ms. Wilson behind her, walking in the other direction.

“Apparently I’m too much of a ray of sunshine for little miss ‘I’m a hostage’,” you looped your other arm in hers to her surprise and started walking towards your lockers down the hall.

Lydia held onto your arm, the gesture warming your cheeks a bit. “Oh yeah, 100%, we’ve gotta work towards corrupting you.”

“New project for the spring, corrupt little miss sunshine.” Anya unlopped her arm and went to unlock her locker.

You realized Lydia was still clinging to your arm and your free hand found itself wrapped around hers. Your heart started pounding and you quickly let go to unlock your own locker.

“Any other projects I should be aware of?” You asked jokingly.

Anya gestured to an occupied Lydia opening her locker beside you. “Many in the works.”

You playfully slapped Any’s arm, feeling the heat rising up your neck and locked your locker.

The 3 of you slid down the lockers and started talking about whatever came to mind and shared the food you collectively had. As the minutes ticked away, somehow Lydia’s head ended up in your lap and your hands played with locks of her short black hair while Anya couldn’t stop smiling at the sight.

“So, then I was like ‘he wouldn’t do that! You’ve got be kidding me!’ and they were all ‘nope, he did, he let every bug he could find in into the house’ and then I was like ‘well where is he?’ and they were all-” Lydia went on about her step-uncle, her hands animated in the air for emphasis.

You had a little smile on your face as you looked at her passionately going on about her family. Your back was getting sore from leaning on the locker, but you didn’t dare move.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Lydia’s voice interrupted your thinking.

“Yeah?”

“You were staring,” Anya almost vibrated off the floor in excitement.

Oh no oh no you thought. Lydia could get the wrong idea... or was it the right idea?

“I wasn’t staring, just thinking,” you defended, Lydia looking up at you with curious eyes, causing more anxiety.

“Anyways,” Lydia thankfully interrupted, seeing you were uncomfortable. “I asked if you had any ghost stories.”

“I mean, I believe in them, sure, but I’ve never met any.”

Lydia’s lips quirked up. “You’ll meet some one day.”

“Is that a promise, Deetz?”

“You betcha babe,” Lydia winked. Anya choked on a french fry and you looked anywhere but Lydia, laughing nervously and your face feeling incredibly hot. You were suddenly very aware of your hands still playing with the locks of her hair and slowly pulled them away reluctantly.

“Aw, you’re blushing! You’re so cute when you blush!” She excitedly said as she sat up, her face inches apart. You swallowed and looked to the ground, to the wall behind her, to your fidgeting hands, anywhere but the gorgeous girl in front of you. You finally turned your gaze to her and saw hers was observing your lips. She looked from your lips to your eyes, then again, and you swore the corners of lips turned up when you let your gaze slide to hers.

The irritating bell rang out, echoing off the walls and made you jump back. Lydia smirked and gathered her things into her bag. You sat there for a moment, stunned and really confused. You thought she was actually going to kiss you, in a school hallway, in front of Anya, around everyone else, against the no PDA rule. You told yourself you didn’t want that to happen as you packed up your things and let Anya help you up who was grinning like an idiot.

Your breath hitched when Lydia looked at your lips, you almost leaned in, you imagined cupping her cheek and holding her closer then would be considered just platonic, you wanted that to happen. But you always felt like that, you always felt your heart pounding when she grabbed your hand to lead you to class and tried to keep your breathing even when she was bumped closer or when she flirted shamelessly with you.

You vaguely remember saying goodbye to a beaming Anya and walking slowly through the crowd to your next class, lost in thought. Well, lost in figuring out what you were going to do about Lydia.

“What’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours, Y/N?” Lydia came up beside you. You snapped out of it and halfheartedly smiled.

“Oh come on, what’s wrong? Was it something I said?” She stepped in front of you, her eyebrows turned down and a worried look in her eyes. The students behind gave you dirty looks as they passed by.

“No, of course not, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You gave her a reassuring smile, though she didn’t look convinced. You put your hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore your rising heartbeat. “If you did anything wrong, I’d tell you.”

She put her hands on top of yours, a relieved smile overtaking her features. “Come on, I’ll walk you to class.”

“Isn’t your class the other way?”

She winked and pulled you forward, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “I can run.”

Her short hair tickled your jaw and you could see her dark purple lipstick shimmer in the fluorescent light. The crowd thinned out as everyone got to their classes, leaving you two walking through the empty halls. You walked to your art history class in a comforting silence, consumed by your own thoughts.

You finally got to the plain entrance of the class and Lydia slid her arm off your shoulder to your dismay. You both faced each other, waiting for the other to say something, a goodbye or a confusion.

“You wanna come over after school? You know, to do the photography assignment?” She asked.

“Uh, sure!” You replied a little too eager. “I don’t really know what to do for it, but I guess I’ll think of something.”

Lydia smirked at you and began walking back down the hallway. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Well, what’s the idea?”

“You.”

She blew a kiss and ran back down the hall, leaving you fumbling and blushing like crazy.

Once your heart slowed down, you smiled to yourself, wondering if the goth girl of Winter River really had a thing for you. Maybe she really did think of you like you thought of her. Maybe you could really be her natural beauty.

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kanerallels · 3 years

Note

Okay, no clue if I can send in multiple prompts, so no pressure, you don’t have to reply to this one.

But maybe Kanera with soulmates, rescue (maybe even fix-it 👀👀) As you can see I’m a sucker for soulmate AUs🧍‍♀️💀

Alrighty, this isn't EXACTLY a soulmate au, but it came to me and I have ZERO self control around domestic Kanera, so let's go!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 1,592

Tags/Warnings: Rated G (for me getting ridiculously sappy today)

“One more story?”

Kanan shook his head. “Not tonight, Jacen. I told your mom I'd have you in bed before she was home.”

“I don’t want to go to bed until she’s home, though,” Jacen said. “I want to say goodnight to her.”

Brushing a hand over his son’s hair affectionately, Kanan said, “I know, kiddo. But your mom will string me up if you’re still awake when she gets back. You’re up late enough as it is.”

Jacen let out a theatrical sigh, and Kanan heard him shifting his weight in bed as he clearly considered his next maneuver. He couldn’t help but repress a smile at it-- the kid’s tenacity came straight from his mom. Although Hera would claim he inherited it from Kanan.

“What time does Mom get home from the appointment again?” Jacen asked.

“She’ll be back around ten-thirty, as you already know,” Kanan reminded him. “That was a really bad stalling technique. Time for bed.”

“No! Tell me another story,” Jacen begged. “Tell me about when you first met Mom.”

Kriff. The kid knew his weak spot. “Jacen…”

“Just this story, then I’ll go to bed. Please?”

Letting out a sigh, Kanan said, “Okay. But only one more, and then you’re going to sleep. Got it?”

Jacen let out an excited yelp, bouncing up and down in bed. “Yes! I promise.”

“Good, now lay back down,” Kanan ordered. “You’ve got to at least pretend you’re going to try and fall asleep after this.”

Immediately squirming back down under the covers, Jacen lay still obediently, and Kanan felt himself smiling as he paused for a minute to collect his wits for the story. If he was being honest, he loved telling this story.

“The first time I met your mother, I was on a backwater planet called Gorse. Now, the planet wasn’t much to look at, but the moon was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

“Until you met Mom,” Jacen jumped in, and Kanan nodded.

“Exactly. So, I was working as a pilot, flying explosives to the mine at that point. Wasn’t a safe job, wasn’t a smart job. But I didn’t really care back then. I didn’t care about much of anything. Until one night, when I was heading out of this old tapcafe where I’d been eating dinner, and I heard it.” Kanan tilted his head to the side, closing his eyes and imagining the moment with a soft smile.

“What was it?” Jacen asked, as he always did, his voice dramatically curious.

“The most incredibly beautiful voice,” Kanan said, his own voice equally dramatic. “It was soft and warm, so totally unlike Gorse and everything I’d ever come to expect about the galaxy. The minute I heard that voice, I knew there was something worth living for. And at the moment, it was finding out what kind of woman had a voice like that.”

“So you went after her,” Jacen supplied.

“I did-- after I paid my bill, of course,” Kanan said. “Side note, never run out on a bill from a Besalisk with anger management issues. Anyway, I went to find her, but she’d disappeared, like she was some kind of dream. For a while there, I almost thought she was one. Until--”

“You heard her again!”

“Hey, who’s telling the story?” Kanan gave Jacen a mock stern frown.

“Sorry,” Jacen said, his tone making it clear he was grinning. “I won’t interrupt again.”

“I should hope not,” Kanan said sternly. “But yeah, I heard her again. And, typical of your mother, she was about to get in a brawl with a gang.” As he spoke, he heard the door to the bedroom creak open, and stifled a smile as he kept talking. “So I rushed in to save the day.”

“Oh, did you?” Hera’s voice came from behind Kanan, and he could no longer hold back his smile as Jacen let out an excited yelp.

“Mom!!! You’re home!!”

Kanan ducked just in time to avoid Jacen as the boy launched himself out of bed and at his mother. Catching him, Hera hugged him, and gently set him to the ground. “What are you still doing up, sweetheart?” she asked, pressing a kiss against his forehead. “As if I didn’t know,” she added, directing a look at Kanan that he didn’t need eyesight to decode.

“You don’t know what he threatened me with,” he said, shooting a wink at Jacen. “It was brutal, Hera. You almost lost your husband tonight-- and how would you feel if you came home and your son had committed patricide?”

Hera let out a scoff that was very clearly hiding a laugh. “You’re full of it, dear.”

“Full of love for you,” Kanan said, grinning, and that pulled a laugh out of her.

Stepping forward, she set Jacen onto his bed. “Okay, get back in bed, Jacen. Your father will finish his story, and then it’s time to sleep. Got it?”

“Okay, Mom.” Jacen snuggled back under the covers, and Kanan began his story again.

“As I was saying, your mom was about to get in a fight with a gang of ten, fifteen beings. But little did I know as I started to charge forward to save the day, I was right next to one of the most competent and incredibly talented women I’d ever met. She started fighting right along with me-- handled more than half of the gang, I might add,” Kanan said with a grin.

Hera, who’d settled next to Kanan, chipped in, “Meanwhile, your dad got tackled through a window.”

“Who’s telling the story here?” Kanan demanded, and Hera let out a quiet laugh as she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“Sorry, love. Keep going.”

Turning back to Jacen, Kanan said, “Anyway, once I finished my fight, I made my way back to where your mom had been-- and there was no one there. Just the cloak she’d dropped when the fight began.

“But when I picked it up and turned around, there she was. The most beautiful woman I’d ever met.” Kanan paused for a moment, a soft smile crossing his face. “I was spellbound immediately.”

“Meanwhile, I was wondering what this scruffy gunslinger was doing with my cloak, and why he was staring at me,” Hera said wryly. “I took off, despite his attempts to follow me or convince me to stay.”

“But then you met him again at that bar,” Jacen said.

“And from there, I found myself dragged into shenanigan after shenanigan with this woman,” Kanan said with a teasing grin. “Somehow, she convinced me to help her save Cynda and Gorse from that psychopath, Count Vidian. Long story short, we ended up on an exploding Star Destroyer together. And that’s when I actually saved your mother’s life.”

“True,” Hera said softly. “I still remember when I saw you use the Force for the first time. You were the last person I would have expected to be a Jedi back then.”

“Well, that was the point,” Kanan said.

“But he’s still a good Jedi,” Jacen said. His voice was growing steadily sleepier as he spoke.

“One of the best,” Hera said.

“I had my moments,” Kanan agreed. “But one of the best things I ever did was save you then. You know, kid, in some cultures, they say that when you save someone’s life, that means they’re your soulmate, that you’re meant to be together.”

“Is that true?” Jacen asked, letting out a huge yawn.

Kanan shrugged. “Who can say? I would have married your mom regardless. Now, time for you to go to sleep.”

As he and Hera rose to their feet, Hera dropping a quick kiss onto Jacen’s forehead, Jacen let out another yawn. “Night, mom. Night, dad.”

“Good night, sweetheart,” Hera said as she switched off the light, and the two of them slipped out of Jacen’s room.

Kanan gently closed the door behind them, then turned to Hera. “Hey. How’d your appointment go?”

“Pretty well,” Hera said, catching him by the hand and leading him away from Jacen’s room and into the living room. “The doctor said that I didn’t have a stomach bug, but there were a couple other tests she wanted to do on me.”

“Oh?” Kanan kept his voice calm, but he could feel his heart rate pick up. They hadn’t been sure when Hera had gone in, but he had a feeling… “What were the results?”

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, Hera said softly, “Why don’t you check for yourself?”

Kanan needed no further encouragement to reach out with the Force towards Hera, sensing her usual bright spark of warm life. And then, somehow within it and separate from it, there was another one. Another life form, tiny but insistent.

“Oh, wow,” Kanan breathed, awe sweeping over him. “Hera-- you’re--”

“Pregnant,” Hera finished, and Kanan could hear the vibrant joy in her voice. “You were right, love. We’re having another baby.”

Kanan felt a grin spreading across his face, and he pulled his wife into a fierce embrace. “This is amazing,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Or him,” Hera corrected. “Even you can’t tell this early, Master Jedi.”

“I have a feeling about it,” Kanan said with a smirk, and he felt rather than heard Hera’s laugh.

Pulling back from him slightly, she said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kanan murmured, and bent down to give her a kiss. “Both of you,” he added.

#kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #jacen syndulla #swr #star wars rebels #post star wars rebels #domestic kanera #i just happen to enjoy domestic kanera #of COURSE i already had that as a tag #kanera is love kanera is life #sw rebels fic #swr fan fic #111 followers celebration #it was dope. the end

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bisexualklausmikaelson · 3 years

Text

and all the magic we made (12/20)

a/n: well i had another mental breakdown :/ so here's another sporadic update for you all :) thanks for sticking through with this story!

Rebekah runs around, from store to store, touching and feeling every item of clothing that catches her eye.

Sparkles, sequins, furs, silks -

Kol quickly realizes how grave of a mistake this shopping trip with his sister has suddenly become.

The length of his stay in his hometown still remain indefinite - last night was a surprise, seeing his niece and not to mention his brother’s infamous Hayley Marshall was certainly something he wasn’t expecting.

If anything, their interactions serve as inspiration for his next move.

Hence the dress shopping, of course.

“So tell me, brother,” Rebekah hums, fingers grasping at a white dress, holding it against her body as she stares at herself in the mirror. “Why are we here anyway? Are we shopping for a special someone? A girl, perhaps?” She stammers on.

“Bekah,” Kol chides. “Such curiosity will bite you in the arse,” he remarks, snatching the dress away from her and placing it back on the shopping rack.

She rolls her eyes, sighing as she follows him down towards the aisle of more colourful textures and fabrics. “Oh c’mon,” she breathes. “You know how starved I am for some hot gossip.”

He doesn’t answer her until she grabs his sleeve and starts whining.

Tell meeeee!!

“Fine-” Kol huffs, shrugging her hand away.

Then suddenly, the perfect dress catches his attention.

It’s a gorgeous purple gown with a mermaid tail flair at the bottom, the sleeves are adorned with pink pearls and with dark lace details.

“It is for a girl,” he confirms, grabbing a hold of the garment. “I like her, I wanna show her how much she means to me, there, satisfied?” He holds the dress up to show it to his sister.

Rebekah smiles, admiring the beauty of the outfit. “Very much,” she nods.

After that, he takes her through even more stores - a purse, jewelry and shoes is a must for a girl so special.

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing a matching set of pearl earrings and a necklace. “Now it’s your turn,” he comments. “You and Marcel, is this thing happening again?”

She takes her time, taking a deep breath before proceeding to offer him an answer. “I don’t know,” Rebekah tells him. “I care for him, deeply, I always have. I’m just not sure he feels the same for me.”

The look on his sister’s face brings him no joy - he’s used to teasing her about her crushes, even embarrassing her about them. But, this time, Kol feels sorry for her, she loved so honestly and so carelessly.

It filled him with both admiration and pity.

“So, you’re looking for closure?” He wonders.

She raises a brow, thinking of his words carefully. “I am not sure,” Rebekah admits. “Maybe,” she whispers softly.

Kol doesn’t say anything else for a bit - he picks out a pair of heels, a small clutch to complete the outfit. His sister approves of his every choice, it comes so easily to him, almost as if he didn’t need her guidance anymore.

“If you ask me,” he finally says. “I always thought you deserved much better than a man who is too afraid to love you.”

His sentence hits deeper than she can ever imagine.

She finds herself asking when exactly did her troublesome little brother decide to become all grown up.

Hayley’s weekends are often spent alone with her daughter.

Normally, other girls her age are busy studying for college exams, hitting up a club or party, going on dates -

Being with Hope Marshall beats all of that, she thinks.

Even when she wants to hang out with Klaus Mikaelson.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He smiles widely as he’s at the door - reaching over to pick up his daughter.

“Yep!” Hope cheers.

Now, her weekends are spent with him. Sandalwood scented cologne, old books in the backseat, a picture of his siblings hanging from the rear view mirror of his car -

“So this gallery,” Hayley says, sitting beside him as he begins to drive them towards their destination. Hope is all settled in her car seat, distracted by her toys. “Is this the type of date the old Klaus would take me out on?” Hayley adds on.

Klaus offers her a confused look. “Old Klaus? A date?” He asks.

She doesn’t offer him much - she simply presses her lips together until they become a thin white line. “C’mon,” she shrugs. “Don’t beat around the bush. Old Klaus did that a lot, I wanna know what this new Klaus is like.”

He hasn’t heard this allegory from her before - he supposes that it’s how she’s rationalizing their whole relationship.

You see, in Hayley’s head, there are two Klaus’.

Old Klaus was aloof, a rule-breaker, the type to get high with her on her couch, to cut class on the school rooftop, to leave without a kiss goodbye in the morning.

And then, there’s new Klaus. New Klaus is…different. He’s more determined, more direct about what he wants.

He’s kind - kinder than she last remembers him.

“Well,” at last, he stops the car, arriving at the gallery. “New Klaus likes to keep you on your toes,” he smirks, leading Hope and Hayley inside the paintings section.

“Ah,” she hums, looking around the large room. “So not much has changed,” she realizes, looking back and seeing the strangest smile on his face.

They both follow Hope into another inter-connected room where only one single portrait is hung up on the wall.

It’s a forest of wolves, tall trees, greenery - and a young Hayley Marshall sitting amongst them.

She stares at it awe, Hope freaks out, screaming and jumping up and down.

Mommy! It’s you! You’re in the painting!!

“New Klaus still likes to surprise you,” he reveals, allowing her to take it all in.

By the time Kol finishes his shopping, it’s basically evening.

Rebekah had gone home for a rest while he still continued his way down the street.

The trip there is quiet - his head is filled with thoughts, how he’s gunna see the girl of his dreams again, how she’s probably just eagerly waiting for him.

So eager in fact, that she opens the door for him before he can even knock on it.

“You,” Davina releases, with her hair in a messy bun, bunny pyjamas and slippers still on. “Came back,” she completes.

“That I did, darling,” Kol tells her, smiling. “Just as I had promised you, all those years ago,” he offers.

Davina thought she’d be more upset at him.

Their relationship had been a strange one - meeting per chance at the local occult club, unexpected encounters at the music store, catching each other reading Edgar Allan Poe by the marina -

They started dating soon after, and connected on every single level.

For the longest time, their relationship felt like fate.

Until, that is, Kol Mikaelson, along with all the other Mikaelsons, mysteriously left town.

(Although, granted, he did still keep contact with his lover, unlike the rest of his siblings, who were so far deep in self-hatred that they denied themselves of this).

“What do you have there?” Davina asks, noticing the large shopping bag in Kol’s hands.

He pulls out the gorgeous gown he had gotten. “It’s for you,” he informs her. “A present, if you will,” Kol specifies.

She admires the shimmering fabric, in awe of the very romance of this gesture. “It’s beautiful,” Davina releases. “Thank you,” she smiles, grabbing a hold of the garment.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he says, as fireworks go up in the sky.

They spell out the words

Will you have this dance with me?

The painting itself displays incredible technique - the composition, the brushstrokes, everything is so crisp and clear. Klaus’s talent has always been undeniable but, Hayley’s opinion of it has been…

“What do you think?”

A mystery.

“I’m guessing,” she starts, once she realizes exactly what she’s looking at. “This was made by old Klaus?” She presumes, looking at the date inscribed at the corner of the painting.

She stares at herself, immersed in the perfect image he had created of her.

“So it seems,” Klaus says. “However, new Klaus is the one who is brave enough to put it up in a gallery,” he informs her, taking a step closer so that he is right next to her.

Hayley looks and looks - passed the greenery of the scene, the tracks of dirt he had carefully painted on her arms and legs, big brown eyes burning a stare into her own.

“I always knew your work would go far,” she finally releases, realizing how carefully he had captured her loneliness in this painting.

And almost immediately, Klaus begins to laugh uncontrollably. “You said it was hideous,” he recalls, shaking his head.

She wonders why he made her look so sad in this piece - as if she had lost everything. And maybe, that’s how he saw it all, his betrayal and departure was written all over her face.

It’s the most honest thing she’s ever seen.

“Except this one,” she notes. “This piece is…”

“Nothing,” he intercepts, bravely placing a hand on her shoulder, catching her off guard. “Nothing, compared to the real thing.”

The drive home is quiet.

Hope is fast asleep in the backseat, little snores and soft breaths escaping her lips. Hayley looks back with a caring and loving gaze. Her daughter truly is an angel, she thinks.

“So then,” he whispers. “This new Klaus, is he up to your standards, as of yet?”

She pauses, catching his eye from the corner of hers. “Maybe,” Hayley remarks. “He certainly became a better driver, over the passed years,” she smiles.

He doesn’t push her any further, he knows he can get more out of her if he did but, this smile of hers was enough for now. He can deal with it - he can deal with her taking her time.

“Well, you’re home now,” he tells her, pulling over by her apartment complex.

She reaches over to shake Hope awake, she refuses though, still deep in slumber. “Looks like it,” Hayley shrugs, pulling away from her daughter. She strangely feels safer now, having the chance to speak more intimately with Klaus. “What do you think new Klaus would do if I tried to ask him to come upstairs?”

He thought that this moment would never come and, that, if it ever did - he would be in disbelief.

But oddly enough, Klaus isn’t in shock at all.

This is expected - he is, after all, charming as hell.

“I think he’d say,” he starts, and right then, he notices little Hope in the rear view mirror, opening one eye to sneak a peek. “You’ve got a restless little girl still listening in on our conversation,” he smirks.

Hayley turns to catch her daughter spying on them and pretending to go back sleep. “Hope,” she scolds. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” she sighs, finally exiting the car and taking her daughter into her arms.

Well, no use acting now, Hope thinks.

“Goodnight, little one,” Klaus tells her, ruffling her hair. “And you too, Hayley,” he lets her know, before he begins to drive off.

She watches him disappear into the night - her heart feels heavy and sinking as she notices how much she longs to see him again.

But, she is a mother first, and as much as the old Hayley would leave all her responsibilities behind and run after that speeding car - she’s not that girl anymore. The new Hayley takes her daughter, and all her old love and passion, and she walks back up to their room.

Of course, right before she enters her home, she notices a carefully placed envelope on her door.

It reads the words - Invitation for Hayley and Hope Marshall.

#klayley #kolvina #hope mikaelson #klope #the originals #the vampire diaries #to #klaus mikaelson #munea writes

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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haikyuu-sins · 3 years

Note

Hiiiii! Since you are in the need for Law request I have plenty lol He lives in my head rent free 😁

So since Law is a Lowkey fanboy for ninjas what if on Zou when everyone met Raizo they met a kunoichi med! Ninja and Law was instantly infatuated with her. He’s impressed with her medical knowledge and her special medical techniques, and wants her to join his crew. And while traveling to Wano they get a little close in such short time that he doesn’t feel he can just forget about her. If that’s too much or too descriptive I apologize and feel free to cut whatever if it is too much.

Gimmie all the requests!!! And too much??? Too descriptive??? Oh my gosh I LOVE when there’s a lot of description!! It makes it so much easier and a lot more fun to write when I know exactly what you want and frick, I absolutely LOVE this ask!! I have a feeling I’m going to have a lot of fun writing this one so I’m sorry if I went overboard with it 😅 (I’m also not a doctor so forgive the misinformation if there is any, I’m just making shit up lol) update: I went overboard.

*****Law x Med Kunoichi! Reader

“Raizo, seriously, you need to calm down.” you tell the ninja who’s in chains because of how upset he is. “I get it, but the mink are fine now. I healed them the best I could and there weren’t many serious injuries.”

He was still on a tirade or yelling and crying but you just ignored him and kept him company. You just sigh. There wasn’t much you could do to help him. “Now you just need to shut up.”

There was yelling coming down from the stairs in front of you along with the sounds of multiple people sprinting. Were... they yelling ‘Ninja?’ It didn’t take long for multiple people that you didn’t recognize to be right in front of you.

There was a gasp. “Raizo is a woman?!” a man with a straw hat shouted, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

“Um, no, that’s Raizo.” you pointed to him.

All of them seemed to physically deflate when they heard that. “Wait... are you a kunoichi?!” the long nose yelled.

They were all shouting out rapid fire requests and you couldn’t even get a word in to tell them that you were the medical ninja. But hearing everything they were saying, you couldn’t help but smile and laugh. The little reindeer was asking if you said ‘nin nin’, another was asking you to hide in the ceiling and get stabbed with a spear, while someone else was asking for the shadow clone technique.

“Nin nin?” You had to put your hand over your mouth to cover your giggles. “Stabbed with a spear? Goodness...Is that what you think of us?” Looking over at Kin’emon and Kanjuro you saw that they had strange looks on their faces. It was cute hearing everything that they thought ninjas did and they were eager to see it all. “You should be asking Raizo to do all that, I don’t don’t have the energy for it right now. I’m the med ninja and I’ve been helping with healing the villagers...and there’s a lot of them.”

Law’s ears immediately perked up at the mention that you were a medical ninja.

“Which reminds me, I should be doing some more rounds for the minks who were more seriously injured.” you sighed and stood up from your spot.

“Would you mind if I came?” the man with the tattoos asked as you walked past them.

“Sure! The extra company is always nice.” you smile at him and he follows you up the long set of stairs out of the tree. “So you were curious about the shadow clone technique?” You glance over at him and he doesn’t exactly know what to say. He doesn’t want to sound too eager if he says yes, but if he says no then he won’t be able to see it. You can tell that he’s trying not to be excited and it makes you chuckle. There was a quick hand sign and another one of you popped up in front of you.

“Hello!” your clone smiled and waved at him and you could see his eyes widen, and then a small smirk. She poofed away in a puff of smoke after the introduction. “Oh and also, we don’t say ‘nin nin.’ I’m not sure where you heard that one.”

His shoulders drooped slightly and you could see that he almost looked disappointed. “Oh…”

“What was your name? I didn’t get to introduce myself earlier with all of the commotion. I’m (Y/n).”

“Trafalgar Law.”

“Is this your first time on Zou?” you ask him, opening the door to the room where your patients were.

“Yes, I’ve heard a lot about it, but I wouldn’t have been able to get up here to see it.”

“That’s a shame. There’s tons of medicinal plants on this island that you can’t find anywhere else. I assume you’re a doctor since you wanted to come with me? You seemed pretty interested when I said I was a medical ninja.” you sat down next to one of them and began your work.

He was surprised by how perceptive you were and he nodded as he watched you diligently heal the minks. Your hands glowed a light blue color and they moved up and down to where they were injured. Law heard you sigh heavily and he wondered what was wrong since he couldn’t see anything. ‘It must be internal.’ he thought to himself.

“It’s internal bleeding that I can’t stop with just my healing. I’m going to have to do surgery. Can you grab me that?” you asked him, pointing to a small tin that was on the shelf. Law picked it up and opened it wondering what you would be doing with a balm. “Don’t smell it!” you warned him. “It’ll knock you out.”

He slowly put the cap back on it and handed it to you.

“It’s from the leaves of a certain mix of flowers here. I’ll show you after I’m finished.” you smiled and took it from him as you spoke to your patient about what you were going to have to do to him. “Come here.” you motioned Law closer to you. “If you want to watch you’ll have to be a little closer than that.” Law did as he was told. When you had the mink smell the balm, he almost passed out immediately. “They have better noses than us so this works much more effectively than it would on a human. It still will though so you have to be careful.”

He took all of the information in that you were giving him. He had never seen the techniques that you used. What was even more baffling to him was that it wasn’t even because of a devil fruit. They were all things that were taught to the medics at a more advanced level. The way you only used a finger to cut open your patient was incredible. He didn’t know how you did it, even when you explained it to him because it was something that he knew he wouldn’t be able to do. You could generate heat in your fingers that were hot enough to cauterize a wound.

What would have taken a normal doctor over an hour to do, took you about 10 minutes. Then you went on to the others who needed your help. They didn’t need surgery but he watched you in awe. It looked so effortless on your part, other than the fact that you looked a bit out of breath now because of how hard you were working.

“Oh man, I need to sit down for a little. Then we can go out and I can show you what I collect when I’m here!” you smiled up at him as you went over to a chair and plopped down, resting your head on the wall and closing your eyes. “I don’t usually get this tired. But having to heal everyone who was injured- including Duke and and Catviper who were really hurt-it takes a lot of energy out of me. It’s worth it though.”

The two of you talked about everything and nothing while you rested. You told him more about ninjas to which you had all of his attention and about Wano and what exactly to expect when they all got there.

“Are you going to be coming with us back to Wano?” Law asked as casually as he could.

“I would assume I am? I mean I could always go back on my own though if there isn’t any room for me! I came here by myself anyway, before Raizo. So I do have a way back.”

“There’s plenty of room, don’t worry. It’s probably too dangerous to go back on your own anyway after the attack.”

“What, do you think I can’t take care of myself? Come on, I’m a kunoichi! I don’t have this sword for decoration. Or do you just want me to be safe?” you tease him with a smile.

In truth, he wanted you to teach him. You had so much knowledge that he didn’t. “I just-”

“I’m just teasing.” you smile softly and stand up. “Are you ready? We can go now. I’m rested enough if you want to get some herbs for your trip.”

He rolled his eyes at your first comment. “We can wait until you’re fully rested if you want.”

“That’s okay. There are some flowers that only bloom at night so we have to cut them off before they can close back up. It’s best to just go at sunset and get the others that you need first.” you grabbed a big bag and already started to walk out the door. Law quickly followed behind you and the two of you were on your way.

In the few hours that you and Law had met each other, you already felt like you had formed a kind of bond with him. You showed him all the different leaves, roots, and flowers that could be used for a multitude of things.

“I can teach you how to make a bunch of things when we’re on our way back to Wano if you want?” you asked hopefully, just wanting to be around him more.

“So you’re coming with us?” Law raised a brow and tried not to smirk at you.

“Well you insisted on it so I guess I have to!” you joked. “But yes, I’d actually really love to come with you. I-I mean with everyone!” You stammered, face turning a bright shade of pink while Law just smirked while he put some flower stems in the bag.

Not too long after, you and the others left on Law’s submarine. It was nerve-wracking at first and you’ll admit you were terrified. Being with the others you knew wasn’t that bad though. You were introduced to the StrawHat Pirates before you boarded and got to know Robin a little better. She was sweet and knowledgeable. But Law was the one you spent the most time with. Even if there wasn’t a reason, you made one up. You’d ask him random things, just went to see what he was doing, or showed him some of the extra things you’d made for his infirmary. You would just say that you made more than you needed but really you were just making it for him.

Law knew more than anyone on the sub that he wanted you to stay so he made sure that you got along with the rest of the crew. You wanted them to like you so you had Kin’emon help you make some traditional dishes from Wano. On one of these days, you went to find Law so he’d be able to try some before the rest of the crew ate it. He was of course in his office working on some kinks that needed to be worked out before they got to Wano.

You knocked on the door and he told you to come in. “Hi Law~” you smile and go to his desk and put the bowl of red bean soup on it. “I had a feeling you’d be in here for dinner so I wanted to bring you some food before it ran out or got cold.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair while he runs his tattooed fingers through his hair, obviously stressed about what’s to come. “Thank you.”

“You know you really should relax. Even if it’s just for a few minutes. I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure right now, but stressing about it is just going to make it worse. You’re better off taking a break and eating some of the soup I made.” you grin and push it closer to him, encouraging him to try it. “Come on~ I wanna see how much you like it! I know you will!”

Law accepted your offer and took the bowl. You watched him with raised brows and an expectant look on your face as he took a sip of the soup . “Well~?”

He wanted to melt in his chair at that moment. The feeling of the hot soup ran down his throat and calmed him unlike anything he’d felt before. He’d never had this before but somehow it reminded him of home. “I’m deciding whether I want you as my cook or my other doctor.”

You tilt your head to the side, your brows now scrunch together and your cheeks flush. “What...what do you mean your cook or other doctor?” you had a feeling you knew where this was going but you wanted to make sure.

“You know exactly what I mean. I mean, you should join my crew.”

You thought about it for a moment. “Would I be a pirate or a kunoichi? ...Because I do like being a kunoichi...and would I have to wear that outfit everyone does? I like my kimono that I have on.” Truthfully, Law did too and he wouldn’t mind if you continued wearing it either, he thought you looked nice in it.

“You can be whichever. If you want to keep your kimono on to pay a sort of tribute to being a kunoichi, you can do that. I don’t mind. I get it, it’s what you know and what you grew up with.” It was your ninja way.

As he spoke, your smile only grew wider and you couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was exactly what you wanted and you were so glad that he brought it up to you since you thought it might be inappropriate to ask him yourself to join his crew. You just wanted to be around him and you were hoping that he would feel the same.

It was strange. Law had never felt this much of a connection with someone in such a short amount of time. But there was first for everything and he didn’t mind this first.

“Of course I will!” you just wanted to wrap your arms around his neck, hug him tight, and not let go. “I was kind of afraid you weren’t going to ask...” you say to him sheepishly chuckling.

“Oh were you?” He takes another sip of his soup while raising his brows.

“Yeah...I really like spending time...with you. It’s been nice getting to know the crew too. I’ve had a lot of fun with them so far. Now I don’t have to worry about being sad when you guys have to leave Wano and missing you-missing everyone!” you say the last part quickly.

“If you were going to miss me then you should have just said something.” he smirks at you.

Rolling your eyes, you’re tempted to push his shoulder, but he has hot soup and you’re not going to spill it on him. “Oh shut up and eat your soup before it gets cold. Captain.”

Now that’s something Law can get used to hearing you say.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar law scenario #trafalgar-law-headcanons #law scenario #trafalgar-law headcanons #op trafalgar law #one piece headcanons

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skylarmoon71 · 4 years

Text

Raphael x Reader Fanfiction Oneshot. (TMNT 2014-2016)

Everyone who knew Raphael, was fully aware of his very short temper. The turtle could get mad at just about anything. Presently, he was beating the crap out of a punching bag because Splinter basically grounded him for being reckless on his last patrol.

Leonardo was the leader, and although Raphael knew that, he was always going against his brother's orders. The butted heads so much that you were shocked the entire lair was still in one piece. So here you were, listening to Raphael rant about his disapproval of Splinter's decision to bench him for the night as punishment.

"And why the hell is Leo in charge. I can lead us better than him!" he scored another vicious punch to the bag, effectively knocking it off the rope. It flew through the air, crashing into the wall and you winced.

"He thinks he's so high and mighty, the oh gracious leader I'm sick of it!" He was now doing techniques in the air. Punching and kicking. You didn't need to be a genius to know he was imaging Leonardo's face where his foot was.

"Raph, maybe you just need to cool down. If Master Splinter thinks it's best you take a break you should listen. And I'm sure Leo isn't the only one responsible for what happened. " He turned to you, still fuming.

"So you're saying it's my fault!"

"That's not what I'm saying I just think that-"

"That what? Leo's better than me. Who's side are you on!"

"I'm not on anyone's side Raph, are you even listening to me?"

He left out an less than amused laugh. "I see what's happening. You have a thing for Leo don't you, no wonder you're always here. Why the hell am I even talking to you. Everyone's the same. Leo's so great he can never do no wrong well I'm sick of it." Raphael drew his sais, turning around and heading for his room.

"I don't need you, I don't need anyone."

Now you were pissed.

"DAMN IT RAPHAEL FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE WOULD YOU JUST LISTEN!!!" you exploded, and the raise in your voice made the red clad turtle turn to you.

"Why the hell would I come here and talk to you if I have a so-called thing for Leo! I respect you Raph, I respect all of you. Nobody's perfect. Not you and certainly not Leo. I just think that sometimes you get so blinded by your anger that you can't even see what's right in front of you." There was a double meaning behind those last words, but Raphael was so consumed by his alpha male ego that he probably didn't see it.

"(Y/N).." you just looked down, turning your back to him.

"Next time you need a friend to talk to maybe you should actually talk to them like a human being instead of tearing them down you jerk!" and just like that you were running out the lair. You passed Leonardo on the way out, not even looking up when he greeted you. When he stepped in he saw Raphael standing with a look of regret. Leonardo sighed, already putting the pieces together. He went into protective brother mode almost immediately.

"What did you say to her Raph." Somehow hearing Leo's tone just irritated him more.

"You don't need to tell me I screwed up. I already know. " He didn't say much more than that, heading for his room to deal with his problems the way he always did. Punch stuff.

~~~

"I shouldn't have said that, it was mean. He just wanted a friend to vent to. I should have been more supportive." You hadn't been to the lair since then. That was a couple days ago. You were more than a little embarrassed at your little outburst. "He did yell at me though. And I was just trying to help." your conflicting thoughts weren't really helping. What bothered you the most is the fact you'd almost confessed your feelings for him. Since meeting the turtles, the one that caught your attention immediately was Raphael.

His tough guy personality, resilient sense of justice. Not to mention his obvious love for his brothers. He tried to hide a lot of his feelings, but you saw through his little act. Underneath you had no doubt that he was a little softie. He was just too busy trying way too hard to prove himself when he was already amazing. In your eyes he was incredible. Mutant and all. You just wished he wasn't so blind.

"He's such an idiot sometimes." You were going to have to be the one to confront him, odds were he was pummeling another sandbag. One thing you knew about him was he didn't like admitting when he was wrong, and you were sure it would take a near miracle for him to apologize. So you would have to step up. "Maybe I should wait a few more days, just to make him sweat." you giggled under your breath. It would eat him alive if you stayed away for more than a week. You weren't that cruel though. It was already pretty late, you were free tomorrow, so you'd go first thing in the morning. You wouldn't fold either. If you didn't get an apology, then you would really give him an earful.

~The Next Day~

Grabbing three boxes of pizza as a peace offering, you made your way through the sewers, heading for the lair. Upon reaching your destination you pushed the door open. Mikey was sitting by the game console, as soon as his eyes caught sight of you, they lit up. Blue orbs brightened and a grin stretched on his lips. "Guys (Y/N) is back and she brought pizza!!" you weren't sure what he was more excited to see, you or the pizza.

You handed him a box, and he smiled, giving you a quick hug before devouring the delicious pizza. As you walked in you saw Leonardo walking over. You handed him a box, and he brought a hand down on your shoulder, taking the pizza in his free hand. "It's good to have you back. Raph's been angrier than usual." you laughed, because you could imagine it. " I wanted to make him squirm a little. Sorry if it caused you guys trouble." he shook his head. "Nah, it's fine. He deserves it." you smiled, going in the direction of Raph's room with the last box of pizza.

When you were standing directly in front of his door, you could hear noises coming from behind. He was definitely working out, and from the sounds of it, pretty intensely. You knocked on the door. " Go away Mikey!" you opened the door anyway, and you could hear the grunt of disapproval at your sudden entrance.

"I thought I said go away!" he yelled. When he saw who it was he stopped cold, just staring.

"(Y/N)..."

"I brought pizza, you sure you want me to go away?" His green eyes stayed on you for a few seconds before he turned away. You placed the box on his desk, closing the door. He wouldn't meet your eyes, and you knew why. He must have felt horrible for yelling at you, even worse that you avoided the lair because of it.

"Raph, you're gonna have to talk to me sooner or later. " he huffed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry. There I said it. Happy." you frowned, because his apology wasn't sincere, and he still wouldn't look at you. You walked over, stepping across so you were directly in his line of sight. "Say it again." you urged. Now he couldn't avoid your stare. You folded your arms, tapping your foot impatiently. "Any day now."

"I'M SORRY OKAY! I'm a screw up, I always piss people off or drive them away. I can't help it, it's just something about me that messes everything up." for once his anger wasn't directed at someone else, but himself. It hurt to know that's what he thought. That he wasn't good enough. That all he was good for was ruining things. You reached out, taking his hand. He tensed, not really sure what you were going to do.

"You're not a screw up Raph. You just need to work on your very very very short fuse." you finished that statement with a smile, and slowly, a small smile rose to Raphael's lips. He really did look cute when he smiled. He was now wearing a different look, and it puzzled you.

"What did you say?" he muttered.

"W-What?"

"Just now, you said I looked cute." your cheeks tinted immediately. Did you really say that out loud?

Cover time.

"I-I just meant it's refreshing from your usual scowl. I-I didn't mean anything by it!" you defended weakly. His smile was replaced by a growing smirk. He stepped forward, and you backed up, trying to create a little distance so you could think of a way to get out of this situation. When you back hit the wall, you panicked. He had you cornered. His arms came down, boxing you in.

"What did you mean when you said I'm blind to what's right in front of me?" Shit, you really hoped he would forget about that. You sort of thought it would go right over his head. Now that he was standing before you with those magnificently beautiful emerald eyes, you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him. Your hands were shaking slightly.

"Raph I..I'm in love with you.." it was said so quietly he almost didn't catch it. He was still, maybe too still for way too long. His expression was unreadable.

When you didn't get a response, you could practically hear your heart breaking. "I-I'm sorry I didn't mean to make things awkward. I-I shouldn't have said anything! I'm such an idiot!" every negative thought flooded into your mind, eyes getting a bit watery.

Said thoughts immediately stopped when you felt something soft touch your lips. You blinked, wondering if maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. Raphael couldn't have really been...kissing you could he?

It took you a full minute to fully register what was going on. When you finally did, Raphael pulled back. His eyes moved to the wall, a soft breath escaping his lips. Your hands reached up hesitantly, touching your lips in awe.

"I have a thing for you too." he mumbled.

"No way.." you pinched yourself, testing to make sure you weren't dreaming. Once you clarified it wasn't your imagination, you knew what you had to do. Your hands lifted, grabbing a hold of the strap across his chest. You pulled him down, standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips. He was clearly taken by surprise by the action, but slowly welcomed it.

His hands reached down, wrapping around your waist and pulling you off the ground. He lifted you to his height, kissing you with merit. You were completely lost in the softness of his lips. Hands locking around his neck. You responded, just as eagerly, legs finding purchase at his waist. When your back touched the wall for the second time that day you moaned, unable to control yourself or your sounds. Raphael grunted, pulling away for air quite reluctantly. You were breathing heavier than you thought possible, chest pressed to his plastron.

"I guess I was dead wrong about you having a thing for Leo."

"So wrong." you corrected, still partially dazed from the kiss. He leaned in slightly, teasing you. You groaned, wishing he'd just close the distance instead of torture you.

"I found your weakness." he spoke, head tilting to press a kiss to your neck. Your hands gripped his shoulders, letting out shallow breaths. "Raph.." you shuddered when his lips touched your exposed skin.

"Damn, if you keep saying my name like that we're going to have a problem." he leaned back up, hopefully to reconnect your lips. You closed your eyes awaiting the feel of his plump lips. Just as he was about to close the distance the door to his room opened.

"Raph, (Y/N) I finally got to the final stage!" Mikey's excited yell made you both turn. You blushed, and Raph looked infuriated. When Mikey saw your position he blinked. "Oh, sorry for disturbing you lady and gentleman. Please, carry on. " he walked out backwards, as soon as he was gone you heard him yelling.

"Guys Raph and (Y/N) are making out!!" Raph growled and you were sure your face was every shade of red. "I'm gonna kill him." Raph moved to step away from the wall to release you, but you grabbed his head, turning his attention back to you.

"Later." you ordered, smashing your lips to his. You'd dreamed of this too long to let Mikey ruin your moment. Raphael certainly wasn't complaining.

#tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #raphael #donatello #michelangelo #love #fights #leonardo #teenage mutant ninja turtles #cuteness #newyork #pizza #raph x reader

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remmushound · 3 years

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Could you write a crossover oneshot, about the 2018 crew (April included) showing off their crazy OP skillz? (Mikey yeeting boats around, Donnie's tech, Leo's portals, etc.)

@assanmaharielsreblogs @itscryptifssil

Rise April = April

2012 April = O’Neil

“Hey guys!”

Leo hated being so exposed, just standing in the open for all to see. Leonardo had reassured him that it was chill here, that they’d never been spotted and weird stuff happened so often that no one would question it if they were. Still, standing there on the docks, open as he was, Leo couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder every few minutes to check for any signs of life disturbing the darkness.

“Watch this!”

Michelangelo resembled the Mikey that Leo knew in so many ways, and it seemed they even shared the same mad skills that all Mikey’s seemed to have in common. The turtle had been loud in his cry, drawing the attention of all below as he leapt from the rooftops and swung out hiskusari-fundo. Like the most beautiful fire work show, the blade and chain ignited in a feiry blaze that caught all of the other box turtles below by surprise, though Michelangelo’s brothers hardly acknowledged the act past a short applause or curious, watching eye.

“Holy—“ Leo sputtered.

“It’s so beautiful!” Mikey’s eyes Reflected the flames like something out of a movie, observing their beauty and hardly breathing.

“HOLY CHALUPAS!” Ejected Donnie, “How did he...?”

“Thats... concerning.” Raph said softly, trying to hide his astonishment behind a chilled facade.

The kusari-fundo shot out over the water, the chain stretching far longer than Leo could remember it actually being. Like an ever growing snake, flying and flying over the orange-reflectinh bay until the blade and a good deal of the chain latched impossibly around the hull of a boat down in the water. Before Michelangelo could come crashing down onto the hard docks, the chain tightened and pulled him into the water at incredible speeds, like a water skier without skis.

“COWABUNGA!”

When he was just about to hit the bough of the ship, the chain gave a sudden, upward jerk and pulled him onto the safety of the deck just in the nick of time. The fire went out, and for a heart wrenching moment none of the turtles could even see the youngest among them, until the teen’s silhouette appeared over the railing and waved to them.

“Uh... how did he—“ Leo began before his taller counterpart cut him off.

“Relax; I’ll go get him.”

Before Leo could even begin to ask how Leonardo would achieve such a feat, Leonardo had drawn his katana and traced a large, arching shape in the air. It was like the blade was slicing through the very fabric of reality, leaving a baby blue glow wherever the tip of the metal touched. When the sword reunited with where it had started, the entire middle erupted into that same mystic glow.

“Woaaaah.” Was all the box turtles could say— even Donnie finding himself speechless at the pure display of power.

Leonardo tucked his katana back in its sheath as he stretched and stepped into the portal, backward so he could click his tongue and give finger guns as he disappeared through the rippling blue. Across the bay came that same ghostly blue glow aboard the ship, and they could see Leonardo step out and wrap his arm around Michelangelo before waving back to the turtles on land.

“Did you build that?” Donnie gasped out, addressing Donatello.

Donatello scoffed. “That? That’s nothing. Raph, show em.” He waved and gave the show off to Raphael, who seemed confused for a second before catching on with a belching bellow.

“Alright, guys!” Raphael slammed his fists together and gave an excited jig, swaying his body back and forth as a determined grin found itself on his face. Eyes narrowed, teeth pulled into a smirk, body moving with untapped potential. “I call this boss mode!”

“Boss mode?” Raph said slowly, trying to hide his growing anticipation and fear. “Looks like a dance to me.”

“Just gotta get warmed up!” He sucked in and huffed out deep breaths, grabbing his Tonfa as he shook out his wrists and started to dig his feet deeper into the ground with each increasingly-violent stomp. His tail lashed. Red sparks started to twist their way around his weapons and wrists, slowly spreading up until the electric aura surrounded him completely. The sparks turned into a fire once the all of him was in their power. His eyes flushed white. The red aura around him grew— and grew, and grew until he was almost as tall as the buildings surrounding him. Despite the awe-inspiring scene, the smaller Raphael within the heart of the beast seemed to be straining under the expended power. The bigger he was, the harder Boss Raph was to control. His teeth were clenched, muscles and veins bulging as life flooded back into tear-filled eyes.

“CONTROLLING JU POWER JITSU... LIKE A BOSS!”

Once the final three words escaped his mouth, he seemed in full control of the situation. When his leg moved, Boss moved in sync. Raphael forced his larger form to wade into the water, his red glow disappearing under the surface as he walked effortlessly over to his brothers on the ship. He held out a hand to them, and both seemed more than happy to hop onboard. Raphael spun around, the movement of his superior self slow and lumbering like most large creatures.

He held the two safely to his chest and carried them to shore, carefully letting them down beside Donatello. Raphael made sure his brothers were on sound footing before finally letting his form pixelate away into nothing and lower him to the ground in a gentle grasp. Leonardo and Donatello were there to support their older brother as he collapsed into them, his legs feeling little more than flexible foam under his great weight. Just from the maybe-minute long quest, Raphael was soaked in sweat and his plastron heaved with begging, thankful gasps of cool air.

“Sorry.” Raphael gasped to the other team, laughing and forcing his heavy arm up to wave. “Kinda tiring, yknow.”

“INCREDIBLE!” Donnie gasped, hurrying over to investigate Raphael though all traces of mystic power was gone from his body. “How often can you do that?!”

“Uh. Never done it more than once in a day.” Raphael rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s pretty draining.”

“I bet!” Donnie squealed, “maybe it’s like that because your metabolism speeds up dramatically— or, or your body adjusts for how long it SHOULD have taken you to do that normally, or—“

“It’s his chakra.” Donatello answered simply.

“Chakra?” Donnie deflated as he asked.

“Seven power points through the body, centers of magic? Ring a bell?”

Leo hummed. “Master Splinter taught me a technique called Reiki thats supposed to heal chakras...”

“So like, what’s your super magic power thing?” Mikey was practically pressing his nose to Donatello’s as he spoke

Donatello’s nose scrunched up at the invasion of personal space, but he quickly brushed it off when Leo grabbed his brother and pulled him away.

“I, little man, have the greatest ‘magic’ of all! SCIENCE!”

“Here we go,” Raph rolled his eyes.

“BEHOLD!” Donatello pulled his bō staff free of its holster and held it to the sky in a pose not unlike the Statue of Liberty. “MY TITANIUM REINFORCED TECH BO!”

Raph gave a slow clap. “Wow. Wonderful. So cool.”

Leo shoved Raph pointedly. “Thats... wonderful, Donnie.”

“Oh. OH HO HO!” Donatello laughed, motioning to his precious staff, “you think this is everything? Au contraire, my fellow shelled companions! This is the top of the line, most up to date technology in my arsenal. Complete with a glider...”

Two wings shot out from either end of the staff, much to the surprise of the turtles gathered.

“Chainsaw! Laser gun! Tranquilizer! Buzz saw! Dual sided rocket propellers! And of course a selfie stick!”

As Donatello listed off his tech-bo’s enhancement, the once simple-looking staff shifted between each feature, ending with a selfie stick that extended far beyond the reach of a normal one and took a snap after the few seconds it took Donatello to pose with two fingers extended and his tongue sticking out.

Leo blinked to try and bring himself out of the blindness induced by the sudden flash. Donnie recovered from it quickly, though his eyes were just as bright the light of the camera had been. He ran over to Donatello practically fit to burst as the softshell gave a smug smirk.

“THAT WAS SO COOL! HOW’D YOU EVER GET THE MONEY TO MAKE ALL OF THAT?!”

Donatello booped his older counterparts snout. “By no legal means.”

April decided to insert herself into the conversation before it could get much farther. “Wanna see what my power can do?”

Eight sets of eyes turned on her.

“You have a power too?” Mikey beaned.

April laughed and gave the mutant a pet on the head. “Sure do! Watch this!”

She lifted her baseball bat from her back, tapping it a few times on the ground as a green glow Overcame the wood. Donatello reached into his shell armor and produced a baseball, tossing it high into the air and out of sight.

“APRILLLLLLLL~”

She dug her feet into the earth as her eyes ignited in the same lime as her bat. She swung the bat a few times, super sight locking onto the small ball as it came hurdling downward.

“O’NEIL!”

With impossibly perfect timing, she spun around once more and brought her bat slamming down on the falling target, sending the ball flying once more in a blaze of neon green glory over the city’s horizon.

“HOME RUN!!”

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #donatello #donnie #Raphael #Raph #michelangelo #Mikey #Leonardo #leo #April

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julilihatfun · 4 years

Note

Prompty prompt: Geralt is really struggling in a battle and Jaskier can't just stand by and watch anymore, so he goes up there and kinda saves Geralt, giving him the chance to finally kill the monster...BUT Jaskier is hurt in the process which he doesn't want to admit, being the hero for the first time. He hides it until he just passes out and Geralt takes care of him, mad at himself for letting the bard get hurt, but also thankful. Sorry it's not very original, but hope you like it!

Prompt request: Jaskier hits his head and is concussed and ends up moody, disoriented, and uncoordinated, maybe a bit nauseous, but Geralt never saw him hit his head and has to find out through a careful insoection when he realizes his travelling companion is acting strangely.

Hey guys - sorry for disappearing for a while :( Everything is just really overwhelming at the moment and well :((( but I hope you enjoy this and I really hope, that you are safe and well!!! (I combined two prompts for this, because it kind of seemed fitting)

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

Jaskier watched Geralt fight – at first, in awe (as always, because honestly: how can one fight so ferociously while looking that graceful), but then in concern, because the Witcher seemed to be in trouble. And that was something that Jaskier had never seen before.

The giant creature loomed over Geralts head – all bloodthirsty and monster-like – while Geralt frantically scrambled away from it and towards the heavy iron sword that had been smacked away from him a few moments earlier.

“Geralt!”, Jaskier screamed and he sounded hysterical and panicked, but he did not care at all. This was a literal nightmare come to life.

“Stay down!”, Geralt roared, not even looking at the bard, because he was too busy dodging attack after attack.

And it did not look like the beast was getting tired. Which, in turn, meant, that staying down was not an option if he wanted Geralt to actually survive this shit.

He did not even have to think about it then – just jumped up and out of his hiding place with a loud, screechy screaming noise, that kind of betrayed his fear, and stumbled towards the fight.

He seemed to be much less interesting than Geralt (highly offensive, if you asked him – he did not wear those ridiculously colourful outfits to be ignored like this), because the huge thing did not even take one eye away from Geralts prone form.

Geralt screamed at him to ‘get the fuck back’, while Jaskier searched the forest ground for something, anything, that he could use as a weapon. He had to be fast, because Geralt seemed to come no closer to gaining back control over the fight.

“Aha!”, he cheered, when he finally found something that could work.

And throwing a stone at the creature really did seem to finally do the trick, because it suddenly turned on Jaskier in an alarming speed.

“Oi!”, Jaskier bellowed, tripping over his own feet in an effort to get away faster. “Stop.”

He was not fast enough, of course, because he felt the thing yank his feet out from under him, making him fall hard. His head was catapulted forward in a sickening motion and bounced off of the moist ground, which definitely hurt a lot.

Jaskier turned around, seeing stars dance around his vision, just in time to see Geralt (who apparently was much faster than Jaskier) bring his sword down on the beast’s neck, effectively separating its ugly head from its massive body.

Jaskier barely had enough time to roll away when the thing started falling towards him and felt the ground shake beneath him, when the monsters mutilated form came down right next to him.

He stared at the beast for a long moment in silent wonder, then his gaze swept to Geralt, who was already staring at him.

“I take partial credit for this one.”, he said then, shakily, moving to pull himself up on a nearby tree.

Geralt huffed, still eying him grimly. He growled out a clipped: “That was incredibly dumb.”, which made the bard gasp in mock-hurt.

“Geralt how dare you? I practically saved your life back there! – quite heroically, if I dare say so myself.”, Jaskier snapped back jokingly. And he knew that he would have handled the situation better had he known even the most basic fighting techniques, but he did not have any skills and stuff somehow still worked out, so he felt pretty proud of himself.

Geralt closed his eyes in frustration and heaved out a heavy sigh, before surprising Jaskier with a grumbled: “I did not say that you did not save my life.” Geralt threw him a stern look. “But that does not make it any less stupid.”

Jaskier practically glowed with glee and pride. “I can already envision the glorious ballad! Brave Jaskier, the humble bard, fearlessly throwing himself into the raging battle of-“

“Jaskier.”

“Yeah?”

“You threw a stone.” Jaskier actually saw the bastards mouth twitching in the effort to hide a grin. “Don’t get cocky.”

“Hey! I threw that stone very bravely!”

Geralt actually huffed out a small laugh then, but when he took in the bards disgruntled clothes, smeared with dirt and grime, his face grew serious again. “You went down pretty hard. You hurt anywhere?”

Jaskier scoffed. “Warriors don’t get hurt.”

“You broke a toe dancing last month.”, Geralt noted dryly. “Well, come to think of it, I guess you did not get hurt as you’d already be whining about it if you did.”

“Hey, that toe-thing hurt.”, Jaskier pouted. “I normally am very pain resistant.”

“Sure are.”

And they left it at that. Although Jaskier knew how immensely grateful Geralt really was, when he offered him a spot on Roach (which Jaskier, obviously, happily accepted).

Riding, for some weird reason, made Jaskier kind of dizzy, so he could barely force down three bites of his stew, before he surrendered and pushed his plate towards Geralt.

“Can you get horse sick?”, he asked dreamily and immediately felt Geralts boring stare on him. He looked up. “What?”

“You’re sick?”, Geralt inquired suspiciously, having been wary ever since Jaskier fell oddly silent as soon as they had mounted Roach.

“I never said that.”, Jaskier exclaimed defensively. “It’s probably the adrenaline wearing off.”

“Hm.”

“Nothing a good pint of ale won’t be able to fix, right? And a good night’s sleep – we should really think about sleeping in real beds more often. You know, to get proper rest and socialize instead of wasting away in the forest.”, Jaskier rambled on, desperate to change the subject in order to not have Geralt on his case all week because of a bit on an upset stomach.

“Hm.”

“Spoilsport.”

They separated for the night shortly after; Geralt immediately retreating to their shared room and Jaskier spending some time wooing the small audience with carefully composed songs and mirror-practiced charms. Though, Jaskier did call it a night unusually early too, having promised himself that healing sleep will free him from all ailments that came with kind-of fighting alongside Geralt.

And well, he was wrong.

He woke up to a splitting headache.

“Yikes.”, he groaned as he sat up, bringing up both hands to massage his temples.

“Had a drop too much?”

And as Jaskier thought about it, he came to the conclusion, that he actually had no idea how much he drank the evening prior – not the normal blank he drew, when the evening blurred together in a mass of pints and shots and girls and… no, this was a complete memory lapse.

To him, it was annoying more than scary, really.

“Screw you, Geralt.”, Jaskier snapped, because Geralt sounded way too smug for his liking. Also, no matter how hard he tried, he could not draw up a single memory.

“Touchy, aren’t you?”, Geralt asked with an obvious smirk.

Jaskier snorted. “Are we leaving?”, he asked then, when his gaze fell on Geralts packed bags; took in the Witcher’s general impatient demeanour.

“Yeah.”, Geralt confirmed his fears. “Took you long enough to wake.”

He looked at Jaskier for a moment, as if searching for something. “Breakfast is on me.”

Geralt’s way of showing gratitude. Jaskier knew, that he should be immensely happy, but he just felt… kind of weird and muddle-headed. Also, still very nauseous.

“I feel so loved.”, he cheered weakly, mostly out of habit. He could probably stomach some food anyways – most times, it even helped him get over a hangover.

When Jaskier had packed up and they stepped out of the inn and into a small tavern, the smell of freshly cooked eggs and beans wafting their way, Jaskier changed his mind.

“Know what:-“, he choked out, dizzily. “I guess I’m not hungry after all. I’ll just… stay with Roach. Outside.”

“Hm.”, Geralt grunted dangerously. “You barely ate yesterday evening.”

“I’m watching my figure.”

“Jaskier…”

Geralt watched the bards face take on a greyish-green hue and he grabbed Jaskiers upper arm roughly, dragging him outside, and nearly pushed him into a bush off the beaten path, away from prying eyes.

“Do what you have to do.”, Geralt said, and it almost sounded compassionate.

“I’m fine.”, Jaskier gulped, despite all logic and appearance. “Jus’ hungover or somethin’.”

“Hmm.”

“Seriously.”, Jaskier mumbled, still breathing heavily in an attempt to fight off the nausea.

“Right.”, Geralt sighed, watching Jaskiers face slowly morph into a more healthy-looking colour. “If you think so.”

“You going back in?”

“No.”, Geralt said, eying Jaskier warily. “Let’s just leave. We can eat later.”

“Alright.”, the bard sighed. His head still hurt and he suddenly felt exhausted. “Let’s, then.”

They walked towards Roach in silence and – unusually enough – it was Geralt who finally broke it, when he strapped his bag onto her back. “You wanna ride with me?”

Just the thought made Jaskier feel terribly ill again. “Hard pass.” He knew that walking would be tough on him too, but there was something distinct to the jostling motion on the horse’s saddle that made it particularly unattractive to him that day.

Geralt eyed him suspiciously. He did not often offer, but when he did, Jaskier never refused.

“You’re acting strange.”, he noted. “Well, more so than usual.”

“Ouch.”, Jaskier said, already a few steps ahead of the Witcher. “I’m great, and you know it.”

So they walked – or well, Jaskier walked. And he kept walking, even when he kept getting dizzier and more disoriented and his head started pounding in earnest.

It was when stars started dancing around his vision, that he knew that he was in real trouble. “Geralt-“, he breathed, hearing his own voice tremble and crack.

And he saw Geralt stop abruptly and turn out of the corner of his eye, before his vision went entirely black.

When Jaskier woke up, the first thing he noticed was his still-pounding head. Then, something weird, wet on his still-pounding head. “Th’fuck.”, he mumbled in disgust, slowly moving to sit up.

“Stay down.”, a low voice growled.

“G’ralt?”

“Don’t want you doing more damage than you already did.”

“Ow.” Jaskier sat up despite Geralts warning because honestly, that’s just the kind of person he was, and one of Geralts old shirts, all wet and bunched up, fell into his lap with a splat. “Huh.”

He heard Geralt sigh. “Stubborn bastard.” Then, Geralts face was only inches away from his own.

“Uh, Geralt.”

“Look at me.” Geralt stared more intently into his eyes.

“You’re scaring me.”, Jaskier mumbled weakly. Focusing on Geralt was exhausting and the sun’s brightness was only making him feel worse.

Geralt straightened up again. “You hit your head yesterday.”

“Is that supposed to be a question?”

“Not if we both know the answer.”

“Right.” Jaskier continued squinting at Geralt. “I might have hit it.”

Geralt let out a big sigh. “Thank you for telling me right away instead of fainting in the middle of our journey.”

Jaskier furrowed his eyebrows (which made his head pound more fiercely, but well: worth it). “Are you… being sarcastic right now?”

“You were out for hours, Jaskier.”, Geralt snarled, clearly signalling that he was not to be joked with right now. “Wouldn’t wake.”

“I…”, Jaskier began, before letting his head fall into his hands. “Can we do this when my head does not feel like it’s splitting in two?”

He felt a warm hand on his back, lowering him back down, before it vanished for a second and returned with Geralts wet shirt, draping it over his face. Jaskier sighed in pleasure. The ground beside his sleeping mat rustled and he felt Geralt lowering himself down next to him.

There was awkward silence where Jaskier would normally chatter away. But he was to achy and tired to do so then.

“I should have noticed earlier.”, he heard Geralt grumble after a while, mostly to himself, as it seemed. He frowned.

“Stop, your self-pity is making my head hurt.”

“Your concussion is making your head hurt.”

Jaskier sighed, trying to snuggle closer to Geralt in search of comfort. A big hand settled on his shoulder. “Maybe that, yeah.”, he agreed, putting his own hand over Geralts.

The Witcher breathed out a gentle laugh. “Rest, Jaskier.”

#the witcher #Jaskier #Geralt #whump #jaskier whump #hurt/comfort #hurt jaskier #prompts #wow what a time #feeling very worried about the elderly people i work with #literally wake up at night crying about this #oh well #let's hope it gets better soon #and stay home #:(

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shinhatigf · 3 years

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okay so I do have an anakin fix it au floating around in my brain in which revenge of the sith goes as well as it possibly could BUT that's not the important part of this post the IMPORTANT part is what happens to maul in this au. (disclaimer: all I know about maul's backstory is from watching the clone wars and reading his wookiepedia page so some of this might be inaccurate. bear with me)

okay so because order 66 didn't happen, maul is brought before the council. he was sith so the council would want to deal with him personally

I think with palpatine dead (fully and completely 100% dead no take backs) the influence of the dark side everywhere would be lessened. everyone would feel a lot clearer, happier, brighter, like a dark cloud had been lifted from their mind. this would include maul.

however, for maul, diving deep into the dark side has been something of a coping mechanism. amassing as much power as possible and giving yourself over to this dark higher power means you don't have the contemplate the fact that you were stolen from your family and home world and fed incredibly damaging rhetoric from the man who 1) let you die 2) immediately upon finding out you were still alive electrocuted the fuck out of you and killed the last part of your family and (imo) the only person you ever truly loved

so maul upon arriving to the jedi council, while slightly less affected by the dark side, is still full of pure rage, hate, and a clusterfuck of other emotions brought about by thinking about the jedi. he's a whole disaster

okay this is going to get very very long I'm going to put a read more here

I imagine some in the council would like to kill or exile him and be done with it, but after the inherent trauma of the clone wars and seeing how far separated from their ideals the jedi order has become, they'd show him mercy. this part may not necessarily make 100% sense but shut up this is the good things for maul au maul gets good things

therefore, the council would vote in favor of rehabilitation. what I imagine this would look like is maul would be heavily guarded and watched, and whenever possible he would be visited by jedi masters (and masters ONLY. they're not dumb)

maul gets his own quarters, which are big enough not to be stifling or tiny but small enough to still fit in a jedi temple where they value austerity and forsaking possessions. they would want to give maul as much freedom as possible while making sure he couldn't be a threat to anyone around him, which would mean he doesn't have much freedom at all. he's fed and watered and visited by at least one jedi master a day. these visits are usually someone meditating and trying to rehabilitate maul's mind while not being openly invading, rather guiding maul's broken mind into its natural state and removing palpatine's influence. these visits are also good old fashioned therapy (maul desperately needs to talk some shit out)

it would take a very very very long time but with guided meditation and constant consistent kindness and understanding shown to him by the jedi maul would start to heal. one of the major things that palpatine forcibly shoved into his brain is a distrust and particular hatred for the jedi, but after spending so many years in their care and with constant (almost annoying) understanding that belief system would start to break down.

it would start small. like one day maybe instead of feeling rage and anger around savage's death he feels sadness because for the first time he's in an environment where he has the space to breathe and remember his brother

I think once maul has actually started to improve a little bit and moved past his rage and murder phase that's when obi-wan would visit him. which would definitely bring back some rage and murder but also it would bring maul some closure. I'd imagine they'd both need some sort of closure, considering maul killed qui gon and obi-wan essentially killed him. but obi-wan saying something like "I forgive you. I'm not your enemy." that might throw a wrench into maul's thinking

so over time, maul is becoming less and less emotionally tumultuous. he's in a stable environment in which a set group of people visit him daily solely for the purpose of rehabilitating him, both through the force and just regular conversation as equals. eventually, after enough time in this environment, whoever maul is beneath the rage and pain and the dark side would emerge

this is the side of maul that I wrote this for. this is why he's one of my favorites.

maul is deeply intelligent, and rather calculating. while he usually forgoes rational thought to scream "kenOBIIIIIII" into the night he's very good at assessing a situation and how to get the best possible outcome. he feels things very deeply but he's incredibly bad at naming exactly what his feelings are and he's not very good at reading the emotions of others. I think a flaw of his is that he really forgets to take emotions into account, while for the jedi that's kind of their whole thing. (yeah the jedi are stereotyped as unfeeling warriors but that's not true at all, they acknowledge and release their feelings into the force. for them their feelings are the force.)

I think one day when maul is beyond resisting his existence at the jedi temple, when he slowly realizes "hey my life sucks a whole lot less than before" he manages to actually solve a problem for one of the masters who visits him regularly and has become the closest thing he can really have to a friend. said master (maybe kit fisto just because I like kit fisto) rants about a problem or a mission that they're having and maul just goes "well it's obvious, really." and manages to solve the problem like that by nature of his unique perspective.

and after a looong amount of time has passed, maul's role shifts from enemy, victim, and a patient to being a voice of rationality, a problem-solver, and someone to rant to when the whole jedi master thing gets to be A Lot™

seriously though I cannot stress how long it would take for maul to heal and get to this point. MINIMUM five years.

eventually maul and some people he's forged friendships with petition the council to allow him to have some more freedom. while extremely hesitant, without palps clouding their vision they could much more clearly see maul's mental state and what sort of danger he would pose to the jedi, and they would let him move freely about the temple

okay here's my favorite part of this whole thing. maul is a fucking nerd. he discovers the jedi library and goes insane. maul would read so many books about so many different things because he's interested in everything and he'd want to build his knowledge in a myriad of subjects. he would spend hours upon hours in the jedi library just reading every single thing in there. he'd beg one of the masters to let him access the "forbidden knowledge" just because it's knowledge and he wants it. and if that didn't work he'd find a way to break in (the forbidden knowledge did not disappoint).

I also think maul would love to spar with lightsabers and stuff. he'd know techniques the jedi wouldn't, and so in friendly spars with people he'd managed to befriend, he'd actually give them a fight and teach them something, while also learning new techniques from the jedi

I think maul would consider becoming a jedi for a brief second. he's happier here than he's probably ever been, finally free from palpatine's influence and in a healthy environment. but he knows it's not his path.

after spending a long time living at the jedi temple, having carved out something of a life for himself, made friends for the first time in his life, having finally achieved emotional stability, he approaches the order on his own. they expect, after having been long used to his presence, for him to ask to be a jedi. but he comes with an unexpected proposal.

maul asks to leave the jedi temple to go home to dathomir, to see what had become of his family and of the nightbrothers. he's much much more stable than he was, but he still has burning questions that palpatine would never have let him find the answers to. and he genuinely does want to get there, eventually. but he also wants to learn more about the force that the jedi wouldn't teach him, to learn more about the sith.

his departure is surprisingly more emotional than he was expecting. the jedi temple was the first place he'd ever actually felt safe, that he'd been allowed to just exist. he would miss it.

armed with all the knowledge in the jedi temple, he searches for knowledge the jedi wouldn't have access to. he finds the remains of mortis, and researches the mortis gods. he spends a period of time wandering around like batman crushing the people he doesn't particularly like (usually people objectively morally horrible. he spent years with the jedi he has ✨morals✨ now). he even made his way to ilum, and found two crystals to forge a new double-bladed lightsaber. (the blades are yellow.)

maul would also study ancient sith texts, and spend a lot of time investigating old sith temples (like the one on malachor). however, he doesn't have the same burning desire to seize the power for himself anymore. it's an odd feeling.

eventually he does return home to dathomir to find the genocide of the nightsisters (with only one nightsister, merrin, remaining) and the nightbrothers in disarray after the loss of the dictatorial government they'd lived under for generations. maul ends up taking over a la mandalore (but with a lot less murder and awfulness. ✨morals✨)

what I'd love to see is maul founding an opposite sort of order to the jedi. not necessarily the sith, since the sith treated him horribly and destroyed his entire life, but i think maul would believe that for the force to truly be in balance, you couldn't try to eradicate an entire half of it from the galaxy. I would love to see maul found an order of dark side force users that teaches about how to use the dark side, how to avoid total corruption, and the correct channels for the power you control.

maul would be a very effective teacher in the dark side because of how much experience he has with it. he experienced the absolute worst of the dark side, the total corruption and loss of self, but he also used the dark side to save the nightbrothers from destroying themselves after the loss of the nightsisters and used his power to keep them together and safe (not to mention the period of time with Batman Maul where he used the dark side to help people).

also I would love to see the new generation of jedi and the new generation of dark side users not to be in opposition for once. by nature of maul being rehabilitated by the jedi, he would teach about them and their teachings with a modicum of respect, and the two orders would be seen as two sides of the same coin. twins, almost.

maul would not be a child snatcher, he was child snatched. the dark side is different from the light in that its always there. it comes much more naturally to force users, and unlike the jedi, it wouldn't require you to join from a ridiculously young age. his order is always known and always open to any force user who wishes to learn about the force.

maul's life comes to an end peacefully, at his home on dathomir, having built a new society for the nightbrothers and a new order for users of the dark side.

#word count: 1.9k #holy wow i did not know i had that many words in me about maul #here's my good things for maul au #in which order 66 did not happen #maul #revenge of the sith #the prequels #the clone wars #star wars #darth maul #jedi #sith #meta #ryn dot text #good things for maul au #ryn dot fic

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tsukki-rising · 3 years

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weightless

Pairing: Ochako Uraraka x Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Uraraka can't wait to show you what she learned from her work-study with Pro Hero Gunhead. While you're in awe of her new skills you accidentally let it slip that you have feelings for her.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: In this I assume that Uraraka’s quirk works only if she touches something with her hands, she can’t activate it on something if it only touches her arm, leg, etc.

It was typical for you to show up just on time or late to class. Something that often got you in some trouble with your class rep. and teacher quite a bit, but you didn't mind, you found it worth it to enjoy a nice slow morning. Starting the day like that reminded you of your hometown, the one you had to leave to start your years at U.A. However, while you usually found it worth it, today everyone was finally done with their work studies and you were dying to ask your best friend how hers went. You didn't have the time to now with class starting as soon as you sat down (getting side-eyed by Iida).

Your home town was smaller, fewer buildings, fewer people, less commotion. There was also less crime that could be handled by just over a handful of hero agencies. One hero was even a sort of mascot for the town, her and her agency usually taking on the most serious cases and restoring peace in the community. She was the one who inspired you to be a hero growing up and for the last week you'd had the chance to train under her for your work-study, it was a dream come true. When you first moved into the large city to attend U.A. all the people were overwhelming. Back home you knew most people's faces but it seemed like here, you never saw the same one twice.

Until you saw Uraraka's face.

After just that first time, it was like you saw her everywhere, you just couldn't get her sweet, friendly smile out of your head.

On your first day, you were lost and tapped on the shoulder of the first person in front of you to ask for help. When she turned it was like a slow-motion movie scene played right in front of your eyes. The way her hair swished around her face, the ever-present light dusting of pink on her cheeks. It took you a second to squeak out your question to her, frazzled by her good looks. As it turned out, she was in the same class and slightly lost as well. The two of you talked about your middle schools and your expectations of the hero course as you worked to find the 1A classroom. And just like that, you'd made a friend on the very first day. You didn't want to let your little crush get in the way of that friendship, she was the only person in the whole city you really knew, so you kept your feelings tucked into a little box inside your heart.

She was your best friend in the class and you were hers. Though your heart did ache at seeing her precious self sometimes, you couldn't live with yourself if you ruined your friendship with her by telling her how you truly feel. It was great enough just being friends, though she was a small girl she had so much determination in her. She was kind and strategic as a hero should be. If only she hadn't committed the crime of stealing your heart. It was fun to be in the hero course alongside her, watching her learn and grow and get closer to her goal of helping her family each day.

You knew she was really pumped for her week of training with the pro hero Gunhead so you couldn't wait to grill her on what she learned as soon as you saw her again. Though now you had to wait till lunch since you had once again shown up just a little too late (resulting in a detention with Aizawa). So when during lunch after you'd both gotten your food and went to sit at your usual table you were so ready to finally talk to her.

"So how was your training with Gunhead?" you ask politely, trying not to seem overly eager.

As soon as she registers the question her expression gets all intense like when she was readying herself for the sports festival and she turns to you to give the somewhat ominous answer "It was absolutely amazing."

"Really? Gunhead seems like he'd be a little intimidating to work with.", with this, her face returns to normal and she responds to correct you.

"He was intimidating in the sense that he is a pro hero but when you meet him in person he talks and acts really cutely.", she giggles as she finishes the sentence. That damn giggle that gives you butterflies every time.

"Hm.", you reply as inconspicuously as possible while you're still coming down from the lightheadedness of just being around her after so long apart (that you actually weren't sure if it was a side effect of your feelings or her quirk).

She's happy to go on, "He taught me so much though. I learned so much about hand-to-hand combat, something I really could've used when fighting against Bakugo back at the sports festival.". The sports festival. It was hard for you to think about the sports festival. You had to see the most precious thing in the world fall unconscious from the intensity of all the explosions she endured.

Since you're still quiet she continues, "I've actually been dying to spar with someone since I've learned these cool skills, would you spar with me after school?", she turns to you doe-eyed and waiting for a response.

"Of course." You smile now, happy that the dread of the festival is behind you. "Oh but I have detention with Aizawa for an hour.". She seemed confused at this, which is weird, she knows just as well as you how often you get in trouble for your tardiness.

"I'll wait for you.", she says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I'd rather you than someone else anyway. I know you wouldn't even think about holding back in a match against me.", she explains, "plus we haven't had a lot of time together recently and I miss hanging out with you," at this your heart clenches. She'd be willing to wait. She wanted to hang out anyway. "You're my best friend Y/n.", she ends with such a genuine a smile.

You're her best friend. Friend.

If only she knew what an awful best friend you were, always wishing for more.

You push that away though, this is something she's been looking forward to and she wants to work out her new fighting skills so you agree and the two of you set up to meet in the gym after your detention session with Aizawa.

---

You're mentally scolding yourself on the way to the training gym after you changed into your PE clothes. It's gotten harder and harder for you to ignore your feelings since the two of you have gotten closer, you've only learned so much more about how wonderful she is, how kind and smart she is. You should really tell her, it'd feel dirty to keep it a secret, to continue being friends without her knowing how her laugh makes your heart stutter. By the time you get to the gym door you resolve that you will confess on your walk to the train station with her after school on the following Monday. It'll be hard and awkward and you know you'll get your heart broken but such a sweet person deserves to know, deserves better friends.

When you open the door you see her stretching. She brought towels and water bottles for the both of you, she knows how you forget to take care of yourself properly after training.

At the sound of the door she looks in your direction and waves you over to stretch. Together, you count out the stretches and you survey the area, noting how many of the typical objects are missing. When the two of you are finished stretching, you bring this up.

"Where are the realistic obstacles?". Aizawa likes to have them around during training matches so that you can get used to villains who will take advantage of their surroundings. Uraraka typically gravitated toward them due to the advantage they gave her with the use of her quirk.

"Well, sometimes the streets really are empty.", she says with a mischievous smile. (As mischievous as a pure bubble of joy like her can get.) You shrug it off and get the timer ready. Also something ingrained in Aizawa's training, believing time is a key element in saving the day.

You ready your stance. Usually you charge straight in when sparring with Uraraka since you know she’s not the most offensive due to the quirks of most of her opponents. You always try and find a way to grab her arms or something else to make sure her hands can't reach you before you win the match because you know the second her fingers touch you its game over. You've pretty much got it down to a science of possible outcomes when you go in for a fight against her so you cycle through the index of moves you have in your head as the timer counts down to start. You force yourself to focus on the fight, not the opponent. While you were so focused though you failed to see how her beginning stance is a little different than usual.

This time, when you charge, she charges too.

You don't have time to register this before you're flipped and on your stomach, hands pinned behind your back and Uraraka straddles your hips to keep you in place. Moments pass filled only with silence and some heavy breathing.

Uraraka swings her leg so that she is kneeling next to you, letting go of your hands.

"Sorry, did I drop you too hard?", her voice is a little panicked and it seems like she's even surprised herself a little with her strength. You turn your head to the side to stare at her with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. She looks a little scared from your expression, then confused as a smile spreads across your face.

She really is incredible. You remember now how she expressed her enthusiasm about learning new hand-to-hand techniques from Gunhead before you parted ways for your separate work studies. From the day you first met her she was the cutest girl you had ever seen and she always has been but you've also gotten to see more sides of her, watch her hero potential grow. "Wow.", you huff out, still catching your breath.

Once she sees that you are physically ok she smiles with you and starts gushing about how fun her training with the pro hero was. "I know right! He taught he how to fight so well and I don't even need to rely on my quirk for up close battle! It's so cool!"

"You're so cool.", you're in awe. She giggles at your tone and continues.

"I can't wait for the next time we do one-on-one matches for hero training! I'd love to see the look on my opponents face when they've underestimated my skill.", she's giggling, she's so pretty. "I really like knowing that I have this new skill I can count on.", and then you let it slip out.

"I really like you.". You don't even realize what you said until you see her face fall.

"What?", now her eyes are wide, she looks like she just took one of Denki's shocks.

"Oh no I- I didn't mean... I just...uh...", you can't string a sentence together. You stop trying for a moment as she starts to float upwards, staring off into space.

"You...you "really like"...me?" she's off the floor now and just beginning to float out of reach. You grab her hand before she spins any further from you.

"Ochako, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it. Don't leave.", now you're freaking out a little. You knew the odds weren't in your favor and she most likely wouldn't like you back, not the same. But you didn't think she'd be so eager to get away from you.

At your plea though, she looks back down and realizes how far she's gotten from the ground, touching her fingertips together and settling herself stable on her feet.

"You really like me?" She asks again but this time she's really searching for the answer, eyes darting over your face like she might find it written somewhere on your skin.

You hang your head in shame. "Yes.". You're closing your eyes trying to brace for her rejection.

"I...I really like you too.", she says it slowly. It sounds like a question.

And now it's your turn to ask "You really like me too?", you try not to get your hopes up too high.

"You're my best friend Y/n of course I do." She presses it like she’s trying to reassure you.

"I mean more than that Uraraka.", you tell her sadly.

"I know I..", she's searching for her words now. "You're my best friend and I never thought about it but more... more sounds nice.", she looks back to you with a smile. "More sounds perfect.". She puts her hands on either side of your face and giggles as you start to smile back.

You grab her wrists and ask one more time, "Really?"

She leans in to rest her forehead against yours, looking at you with her big, beautiful eyes, "Yes really."

You stare into each others eyes for a few beats before you can't take the intensity of the gaze and you both fall into a laughing fit.

You feel so happy. It's like you're on cloud nine. She likes you back, she really likes you back. You feel overjoyed, you feel weightless.

Wait. You feel a little too weightless.

You look down to see the ground far below your feet and you gasp, now clutching Uraraka in a hug. She hugs you back before she realized herself that she's made the two of you float. It makes her laugh a little harder before she pulls back, holding your hands and beginning to spin the two of you in the air around the gym. Its almost like dancing.

The two of you waste away the afternoon around the gym like that, the plan to spar forgotten.

#uraraka x reader #ochako uraraka x reader #uraraka fluff #bnha x y/n #bnha fluff #uraraka x you

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