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tuesdayafterafriday · 2 months

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to take care of you

dark!joel miller x f!reader

joel takes you in after you arrive all alone in jackson. he gains your trust and promises to take care of you, but that ends up being more than you bargained for. (4.6k words)

tags: ddne, dark, non con, dub con, explicit content, no minors allowed, age gap, power dynamics, perverted joel, vulnerable reader, breeding kink, virginity loss, non consensual somnophila

You were all alone when you got to Jackson. Shivering, starving, and scared. You didn’t make many friends fast, staying locked up inside of your house most of the time. It was Ellie who got through to you first. You latched onto her, and she quickly became the person you trusted the most.

So, when she suggested that you move into the empty room in the house that she lived in with Joel, you were quick to accept. Joel was annoyed at first, the thought of a stranger moving in.

“Does she know that you’re barely around these days.”

Ellie had just rolled her eyes, not in the mood to dig into the complexities of their relationship at the moment. “She’s too scared to live on her own. I think she’d feel safe with you around.”

“Hasn’t she heard the rumors of my past?”

“I told her she can trust you.”

You didn’t have much of a presence around the house at first. Usually, Joel forgot you were even there, until he’d hear the creaking of steps upstairs or a stray cough. You started to spend more time in the common areas after a while, though, and Joel found himself happy to get to know you.

And the more he got to know, the more beautiful he thought you to be.

The first time you touched him was a few months after moving in. It was innocent, but it changed everything for him. He had explained to you that, on his recent trip to see the town’s seamstress, he ended up bartering for a new dress for you. It was relatively plain, but when he saw it he remembered the stray comment you had made about the heat of early summer, having only a few winter garments at your disposal.

Just seeing you in the dress would’ve been enough motivation, but the smile on your face when you saw it and realized it was yours was even better. You tried it on immediately, stepping out of your room to show Joel how it looked with a shy smile.

“You woulda been a model, if you’d been an adult back in the day.”

The comment made you smile even more, gaze still on the floor as you approached Joel and slowly pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t long, but it took Joel completely by surprise. The smell of you, the feeling of your body pressed up against his, the small noise you made against his ear. It was the first time he realized just how much he needed to fuck you.

He didn’t want to do anything too fast; he didn’t want to scare you away. But he needed you. He needed a release. So, he started when you weren’t home. He went into your bedroom and looked through your meager possessions, trying to come up with a way to get to you.

Instead, he ended up in your bed, pants pulled down to his ankles, rutting his hips against the firm mattress—precome surely leaking on the linen—while he sniffed your scent that lingered. Joel knew it was wrong to act like this, so desperate and out of control, like a feral animal who had just caught a whiff of a particularly strong pheromone.

But the thought of your body having been wrapped in these sheets only hours earlier turned him on. The thought of your body in general turned him on. He imagined you, soft and aching, underneath him. He wondered if your body would twitch as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you, thumb never leaving your increasingly overstimulated clit.

He would make you come so many times you’d forget your own name.

As he grasped at the sheets—hand finally beginning to stroke his cock in time with his hip movements—he found something in the sheets, near the end of the bed. He almost came right there at the sight of them: a plain light pink pair of panties.

He could tell they were dirty, still a little damp in the center and smelling of you. He knew he was really gone when, without even a second thought, he immediately brought the panties to his nose, sniffing in as much of your scent as he could get. Just like the kind of pervert he used to hear people joke about: the nasty old man panty-sniffer. That’s what he’d become.

But he was fine with pushing down his shame in favor for his insatiable arousal.

Now he could imagine what you’d look like when he’d yank down your jeans, your pretty little pussy only covered by a thin piece of pink material. He squeezed his balls roughly as he wondered if you had a matching bra, made by one of the seamstresses in town.

His thoughts only got dirtier, and soon enough he had flipped himself to be on his back again. He took a moment to spit in his palm again before returning it to his cock, enjoying the feeling of the slight wetness.

He wanted more than anything for it to be your saliva on his cock, and lots more of it. He wanted to see you on your knees for him, looking up at him with labored breaths, his cock inching further and further towards the back of your throat. He knew you’d be such a good girl, eager to take as much of him as you could.

But he wasn’t only interested in you if you were his good girl, though. He wanted to turn you bad, wanted to see you lose all your concerns about what was proper and just suck his cock like an absolute whore. He wanted to turn you into as sick and needy of an animal as he was.

It was that thought—the thought of what you would sound like when he finally lost control and let his cock hit the back of your throat with force, making you gag on his considerable length—that finally got him off. His shirt was pushed up a bit, and he came on the firm pudge of his stomach.

_________________________________________

Ellie helped you meet more people in the community, and you even ended up with some friends. Joel couldn’t help but feel jealous when she’d whisk you away with the promise of hanging out with people your own age. Deep down, he knew it was good for you.

He really saw the value of it one night, though, when he found you passed out on the sofa, clearly too inebriated to get yourself up the stairs and in your own bed. You were in a heavy sleep, arms sprawled above your head and your legs open, one foot planted on the ground and the other on the body of the sofa. He admired the sight of you in the dress, the way your breasts were squeezed by the tightness of the chest, the way your legs looked as the knee length hemline rode up, exposing the plush meat of your thighs.

As he palmed the bulge in his jeans, he decided he wasn’t going to fuck you tonight. He knelt down in front of your body, grabbing the hem of your dress to flip it open. You were wearing a pair of thin cotton panties, damp in the middle where they stretched over your cunt. He brought his face to your body, his big nose nestling between your covered folds and inhaling deeply. The scent of your arousal mixed with your sweat was intoxicating, and he had to fight himself to not go any further.

He pulled his cock out of his pants and began to stroke himself to the smell of you, just as he had in your bedroom. This time it was so much better, though. It was the real thing. Instead of just a discarded pair of panties on their own, he could see the curve of your mound, your lips covered in cotton, the way it clung to the curls of your pubic hair.

He couldn’t help himself. It was all too much. He gently pulled your panties to the side, exposing your cunt. He let out a strained groan at the sight of you before coming all over his own hand. He leaned forward and gave a small kiss to your labia before putting you back as he had found you, taking a moment to taste you on his lips.

He knew he should feel guilty, but he was too overwhelmed to manage it.

_________________________________________

It was several weeks later when he woke up to the sound of you screaming. He ran to your room, knowing just how to push on the handle to get the door open even when it was locked. You had stopped yelling by then. Instead, you cried into your hands.

“I’m sorry,” you began to repeat. “I just had a bad dream.”

Joel’s reasoning skills weren’t fully functioning. He felt awful seeing you in pain like that, and his own body was filled with adrenaline. That’s why he didn’t think to stop himself before offering you a spot in his bed.

“Or I could sleep in here on the floor… I know you don’t like to be alone, is all.”

You had stared at him in silence for nearly a minute, and Joel began to fear that he had severely miscalculated your level of trust in him.

Then, he saw a small smile.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Course.”

As you curled up under Joel’s blanket, you explained to him that you had always shared a bed with someone growing up. It felt wrong to sleep in one without someone else. Joel knew the kind of pain you were in after losing your family, your group.

“I’ll try and find a way to get over it,” you whispered. “I’m sorry for making you take care of me all the time.”

Joel’s heart broke at the sound of sadness in your voice, but his body surged with arousal at your acknowledgement of him taking care of you. He told you that he was happy to take care of you, that he’d help support you through this for as long as you needed.

“Seems like you’re carrying the grief in your body,” he told you, noticing the stiffness in your shoulders even as you lied in bed.

“What do you mean?”

He gestured for you to get up in a seated position and turn around on your side, facing the opposite direction from him. He only took a moment to admire your ass in your nightgown before placing his hands on your shoulders. You flinched at first, but he cooed at you as he held you in place.

“You can trust me, remember?”

You let out a nervous breath, and Joel began to rub your shoulders. The next sound you made was a small moan. You quickly apologized, and Joel grinned to himself.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. ‘S supposed to feel good.”

He kneaded your muscles while you sighed sweetly, your body moving gently against the bed. He wondered if the pleasure was spreading. He moved his hands down your back slightly, grasping your sides under your armpits and using his thumb to rub circles into your back muscles. He could tell you loved it.

Slowly, he moved his hands further and further to your front before eventually groping your breasts, thick fingers running past your pert nipples. You let out a strained moan before jerking your body away.

“J-Joel,” you whispered, breathless. “I don’t think I carry grief… there.”

Joel chuckled, hoping to help diffuse the tension. “I know, but it’s a good spot for relieving tension.”

You turned to look at him, and he could’ve gotten off just on the shy but aroused look on your face. Your skin felt warmer and warmer, and your mouth hung open slightly, tongue gently licking your plush lips.

The word “ripe” was stuck on Joel’s mind.

“You know I’d do anything to take care of you, right? Whatever you need.”

You stared at him with wide eyes before beginning to shake your head. “T-thank you for all the help, Joel, but I think I’ll just sleep in my own bed.”

As you began to push yourself off the mattress, Joel’s hand darted out and hooked your body in, his large hand stretching over your tummy and holding you gently in place.

“Listen… I know what everyone in town says about you, and I’m sure that can’t make it easy to feel at home here, but”

“What?” You turned to face him again, your demeanor shifting. “What do people say about me?”

Joel let out a sigh, shaking his head gently. “People just haven’t learned to trust you yet… think you’re a bit of a freeloader, is all.”

“I help out where I can…”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Joel cooed, using his hand to rub your side. “People said things about me when I first got here, too. Now they respect me, they listen to me. If I keep tellin’ ‘em that you’re good… they’ll believe it.”

Joel suppressed a smile as he watched tears begin to form in your eyes.

“You tell them that?”

“Of course.”

The night ended with you apologizing for trying to go back to your room. It was so sweet of you to offer me a spot here for the night, I shouldn’t have tried to say no. He waited until you were asleep to pull the straps of your nightgown down far enough to expose your breasts. He fisted his cock while he imagined coming all over your chest.

All over your face.

All over your cunt.

All over you.

_________________________________________

Nothing happened for a few days. Ellie came to visit, which helped take Joel’s mind off the situation completely until she brought you up while they were eating breakfast. She had made some confusing joke about the “real great” night you were sure to be having that day.

“What’s that ‘sposed to mean?”

Ellie just snickered, a trait she never gave up from childhood. “She’s going on a date with James.”

Joel felt his body tense up at the news, although he couldn’t feel surprised. You were a beautiful young woman, of course you’d be going on dates. It still filled him with a terrible sense of jealousy, an unearned sense of possessiveness.

“What’re the plans?” Joel asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible.

“They’re going to ‘stargaze by the lake,’ if ya know what I mean,” Ellie replied as she shoveled down another mouthful of oatmeal.

Joel just gave her a funny face. “I do not know what ya mean. You and Dina used to love going down there to stargaze.”

Ellie’s smile immediately disappeared, a wince taking its place. “Well, uh… I’m not saying this is what Dina and I were doing down there… because, you know, we had a real passion for… the stars. But…” Ellie let out a groan and just spit it out already. “That’s where everyone goes to hook up.”

Joel made a disgusted face in light of this news, letting out a slight groan while he dropped his slice of bread.

“So that book on constellations I found for ya was just a part of some nasty little rouse?”

Instead of being too embarrassed, Ellie just laughed. “We did use that book! A lot.”

Joel let his disgruntled face begin to soften, but Ellie was quick to get the punchline in, already laughing at her own joke.

“We needed something to talk about afterwards.”

“You little shit,” Joel muttered, stifling his own laughter. “I think maybe you oughta just keep lying to me like you did when you were a kid, okay?”

His smile didn’t remain long, however, disappearing when he remembered that you would be down by the lake later that night, getting fucked by some guy who probably wasn’t even gonna get you off once.

“Ain’t she a little old for such juvenile tricks?”

Ellie shrugged. “She’s stuck living with an old man. Would you really prefer her bringing home some guy? And James’s family certainly wouldn’t appreciate him bringing her home for the night.”

Joel gave a noncommittal nod, pretending to no longer care even a little bit about you as he switched to a new topic of conversation. Ellie seemed none the wiser, happy for the change in pace.

_________________________________________

Joel told himself he was just going to keep an eye on you from a safe distance, make sure that the boy didn’t try any funny business. He was just going to hide behind some trees and ignore the sound of your moans.

That proved more to be more difficult than he had imagined, however. He stood there, peering around a big tree trunk to watch you lie on the ground as James ran his hands up and down your body, firmly placing one of your hands on his cock that was sticking out of his jeans.

He didn’t bother to touch your clit or your other less obvious erogenous zones; he just began to spread your legs, prodding his cock at your entrance. He doubted you’d even be wet for him… he wondered if James had even been considerate enough to slip on a condom.

But the sight of your exposed breasts in the moonlight and the little noises you made for him was enough to make him at least believe you were enjoying yourself.

You looked beautiful, now fully nude in the summer heat. James was busy clumsily pawing at your breasts while you rubbed your own clit. A part of Joel’s brain was ignited in anger as he watched the younger man line his bare cock up with your pussy. It was that part of his brain that he had to temper when he was in Jackson, only bringing it out when necessary while on patrol shifts or on supplies runs.

It was Joel’s duty to protect you, as an older member of the community, as the father of your close friend. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself as he finally emerged from behind the tree and began to approach you and James.

“’scuse me,” Joel muttered, with a pointed tone that was meant to convey authority and disappointment. You were too busy to mind the tone, however, as you were both scared shitless, scurrying to cover yourselves up and act like you weren’t just getting ready to have sex.

“Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be out here this time of year? In the dark? Busiest time for bears.”

James—although clearly scared based on how fast he shoved his dick back in his pants—seemed perturbed by Joel’s interference with his plans.

“Then why are you out here?”

Joel just shrugged. “Tommy wanted me to keep an eye out for horny idiots and stop ‘em from becoming a bear’s dinner.”

James didn’t laugh, just jumping to his feet and reaching out for your hand.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that,” Joel muttered. “I’ll escort her home. Think you’ve done enough for tonight, champ.”

Joel looked back to James with a dark gaze, trying to impart the message that he wanted him to fuck off already.

James just rolled his eyes, clearly not up to trying to fight with a man like Joel, especially now that you had a vested interest in going home with him instead. He said goodnight to you without much grace or sweetness and limped off, probably still dealing with a bit of an erection.

“Keep an eye out for bears, buddy!”

When Joel looked back down to you, he found you smiling at his comment.

“I-I’m really sorry,” you muttered, looking down at your lap nervously while you shifted around from underneath your blanket, probably trying to get your panties back on. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Only thing that’s embarrassin’ is your choice of company.”

You ignored the comment, but he could tell you were still uncomfortable by the entire situation. He figured you were probably too bashful about sex to have a frank discussion about it, and Joel knew how dangerous it was for a young person—especially a young woman—to try and figure out sexual intimacy with only vague ideas and generalities.

You needed his help, Joel realized. And he was already here to protect you—it wouldn’t make sense to just stop now, when you arguably needed him the most.

He kneeled down, staring at you closely while you continued to shift around under the blanket. You looked up at him in shame, shaking your head.

“Now, I told you I’d take care of you, but I don’t know if I’d be able to take care of you and some baby you let yourself get knocked up with because you weren’t bein’ careful enough.”

“I’m so sorry, Joel… I just…”

“There’s other ways to get men to like you. You don’t need to degrade yourself for the first little boy who shows you attention.”

“Joel, I…”

“This is certainly not the way to get people in town to trust you.”

“I’m sorry!”

Joel stopped, staring at your face which seemed shocked by your own outburst. Tears began to form in your eyes once again, and he wished it didn’t turn him on as much as it did.

“I was just… Joel, I was just so desperate.”

“For what?”

Your eyes left his, and you looked around with a wince. “For that… relief you were talking about. James was just the first guy who asked.”

Joel thought about taking you right there. He’d hold your arms down and clamp your mouth shut if he had to, as long as he could give you that relief that you were so desperate for. He cock was aching in his jeans just at the thought of it, of how your pussy would feel clamping down on him, how he’d stretch you open.

His grip got tighter around your arm, and he had to stop himself from hurting you.

“Get up. We’re goin’ home.”

_________________________________________

“I know you’re disappointed in me,” you whispered when you two finally got back to the privacy of the house, after a long silent walk.

“I’m not disappointed in you,” he replied sternly. “I’m hurt.”

You stared at him with a sad little look.

“Have I not given you everything? Have I not taken care of you without judgement?”

“You have… of course you have!”

“Then why would you go to some random, careless boy in your time of need.”

You let out a tiny huff, looking around the room in discomfort. “I just… I thought maybe you weren’t into that stuff anymore. You’re just so much older than me.”

It turned Joel on to hear you say it, but his blood burned at what you were insinuating.

“Think I’m just some old man with a limp dick?”

You seemed shocked at his language, beginning to slowly back away from him.

“After all I’ve done for you?”

“Joel, I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking a few more steps back. “Can we talk about this in the morning? I think you’re too upset now.”

He took a few long strides forward and grabbed your wrists before you could move, twisting your arms so you were unable to get away. He pulled your body flush against his, staring into your eyes intensely.

“Think I can’t fuck, huh? Trust me, baby: I’ve never met a pussy I couldn’t get off. Used to fuck little sluts like you… I’d pick ‘em up in bars or at parties. Fucked almost babysitter I ever hired, fucked a few of my buddy’s daughters.”

“Joel,” you whimpered, voice dripping with fear. “I’m sorry… I believe you.”

“Haven’t even gotten to tell you about all the pussy I’ve gotten since the outbreak. Fuck, there’s something about the end of the world that made girls like you hornier than ever. Can’t tell you how many girls I had coming on my cock, callin’ me daddy while they milked me dry.”

“Let me go,” you muttered, twisting your arms just to bring yourself more pain.

“The ones who were trying to fight how they felt were my favorites, though. There was just something about grabbing a bitch by her wrists and bending her over and just destroying her. And lemme tell you, sweetheart. They always came.”

Joel tried to be gentle when he tied your hands together. He didn’t need you being all bruised up and covered in evidence. He stuffed your panties in your mouth to stop you from screaming. Finally, he threw you on his bed, face first. He quickly got on top of you, his meaty thighs spread over each side of your ass while he repositioned your face against the mattress and muttered directions.

“Quit your squirmin’, baby.”

He indulged himself in a few slaps of your ass, watching your flesh jiggle before spreading your legs and letting out a low whistle.

“Look at all that wetness coverin’ your cute little pussy.”

He shoved a thick finger inside, groaning as he explored your tight, wet hole. “You really were fuckin’ desperate for it, huh?”

He took a moment to taste you off his finger, groaning in approval before working another finger in, roughly stretching you open.

“Don’t know why you’re resistin’ so much. Gonna give you better cock than that fucker James coulda.”

You made lots of noise, but it was all muffled by the gag. Drool dripped out of your mouth and down your chin, the sight of which turned Joel on even more.

“I told you, baby. I take care of you.”

With that, he lined his cock up at your entrance and pushed his reddened, leaking cock inside. He moaned as he forced himself deeper and deeper into you, grateful for how wet you were.

“Gonna make you take all of it, baby. Even if it hurts. You gotta learn your place here.”

You continued to make noise, squirming around underneath him in a way that only made his cock feel better.

“Aww, you want more? That what you’re trying to tell me?”

He began to pull his cock out, rubbing the tip against your swollen labia for a moment before slamming it back in, eliciting a sharp yell from behind the gag.

Joel continued to fuck you, hands gripping at your shoulders. He leaned in closer, beginning to mutter in your ear.

“There’s a cost to the comfort of Jackson, sweetheart.”

He grabbed the back of your head and twisted your neck around so that he could see more of your face. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with the drool on your chin.

“Keep cryin’, baby. I can feel how much you love this.”

He reached down to grope at your breasts, sharply pinching your nipples.

“Gonna learn to take what I give ya.”

Your cunt squeezed him tightly, and he thought you were close.

“Imagine what everyone in town will say when you end up pregnant, redeemed by kind old Mr. Miller helping to raise some crude man’s baby.”

He imagined you swollen with a baby, at your most vulnerable and needy. He imagined how much it’d turn him on to milk your breasts while he remembered how he knocked you up.

That was the thought that finally got him off. He groaned as he came inside of you, twisting your hair up in his hands and pulling your head back. It’d been too long since he’d come inside of a pretty little thing like you, and he couldn’t help but savor the moment when he pulled his softening cock out and watched a bit of his come cover your lips/

“Sorry you didn’t get off yet, sweetie,” Joel muttered as he watched your hole desperately contract around nothing. “But we’ve got plenty of time for that.”

#dark!joel miller #joel miller x reader #dark!joel x reader #dark!joel #tw dub con #tw noncon #cw noncon #cw dubcon #ddne #dead dove do not eat

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chimcess · 1 month

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Waterlog || pjm (3) (teaser)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Teaser wc: 391 Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: toxic relationship (not reader and jimin), arguments, cheating (not reader and jimin), talks about previous child abuse, anxiety attack, strong language, crying, emotional abuse (not reader and jimin), mentions of depression and mental health, lots of angst in this one, finally making some progress though, age insecurity, mutual pining, lots of side character development in this one, they really are so sweet together, jimin just being the nicest boy in the world, so much PDA, physical touch is his love language 👀👀👀, more in the official posting...

Release date: April 6th, 2024 at 6pm EST

masterlist || playlist

Jimin and I said our goodbyes and I promised the blue haired boy I would call him in the morning to set up another meet up. He called it a group date, something neither Jimin nor I disagreed with, but it did make me feel queasy. Depending on how our conversation goes, we may never spend time together outside of training. I felt like I was going to vomit.

“Let me drive?” Jimin murmured as we parted ways with the couple.

I nodded, digging in my purse to find them. “Mind reader, I swear. Get out of my head, kid.”

He snickered, “Who says you weren’t in mine, granny”

The queasiness dissipated and I felt like I could breathe a little bit easier now. Being alone with Jimin had never felt this nerve wracking before, not even the first time we met, and it was hard to explain all of the thoughts and feelings going through my head. We were finally having the talk, but I had never imagined it going this way. Handing him the keys, I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Whoops,” I mocked. “You know me and my bad eyesight, kiddo.”

“Watch it,” He hissed, rubbing the spot. “Don’t want you breaking anything. You know you have frail bones.”

I laughed, “Don’t make me give you a knuckle sandwich, punk.”

Sliding into the passenger seat felt less daunting after the light hearted exchange. Still, my blood was pumping as Jimin clicked his seatbelt in place. I had no idea when the conversation would shift into murkier waters, but I needed to start thinking about what to say to him.

Denying my feelings would only make things worse, and I did not think the younger man would believe me. In fact, he would be offended that I thought he was dumb enough to get bamboozled in the first place. Lying did not seem like the right call anyway. My feelings were not something to feel ashamed about, but they were very frightening.

“When is later?”

I gasped, startled out of my thoughts. We had been driving for over ten minutes already. Time seemed to slip by when I was lost in my own head. Jimin apologized for scaring me but repeated the question once I reassured him that I was fine.

“Now,” I mumbled. “I guess later is now.”

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

Let me know if you want to be added/deleted from the taglist. -Lex

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bullet-prooflove · 6 months

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Patience: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @chickensrule @iwannabeinthesequalmrghostface @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx @justameresimp @handsupforamiracle @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @littlebadariell @imaginecrushes @luckyladycreator2 @@emersxn99 @flrboyd @nani-kenobi @areamir @b-bradshaw @adaydreamaway08 @crimeshowjunkie @shepgurl @ashcosmo @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman @tortilla-maria1 @lemmons1998 @dr-alan-grantler @burningpeachpuppy @penguin876 @haley-hotchner @deliriousfangirl61

Companion piece to:

First Time

Prequel to the Deployment!Series

The first time with Beau is life changing.

There’s an intensity in this man that goes far beyond his rank and uniform and he brings that energy to bed with him. You expect it to be quick, clothes torn off as soon as you enter the room, fucking on top of the comforter. That’s what all of your other experiences have taught you.

Beau takes his time. He spends an age kissing you, his thumb tracing over your jawline, his firm body covering yours as he learns the taste, texture and feel of your lips. It does something to you, it instils a sense of security you’ve never had before, it makes you feel wanted, it makes you feel loved. It’s too soon to be tossing that word around even though you know it’s true. You’ve been in love with Beau since that night in the bar, when he’d slipped into the barstool alongside of you and commended your work on the Edwards case.

“Patience.” He smiles against your lips when you whine into his mouth. “I want to make the most of the time we have together.”

He has you needy and desperate already, and he hasn’t removed a single item of clothing.

Beau takes you apart over a series of hours, stripping away one item of clothing at a time, exploring your bare skin before he divests you of the next garment and then the next. He’s thorough, mapping out every inch of you with this fingertips and tongue.

You follow his lead, undressing him slowly. Your fingers chase over the planes of muscle, tracing over those scars with reverence. You want to ask but you don’t get a chance because he’s kissing you all over again, drowning out every thought in your head.

“Beau…” You whisper as his skin presses against yours.

“I know baby, I know.” He says as his lips brush over yours and, in that moment, you know he feels it too.

When he sinks into you, it’s perfect. The thoughts rush out of your head and there’s only him and that overwhelming, euphoric sensation that chases through your veins. His palms skate over your thighs, hitching them just a little bit higher on his hips. It changes the angle, driving him deeper, his cock raking over that deviant little spot inside of you. He’s slow with his love making, tender, rolling his hips until their flush with yours before withdrawing and starting all over again.

It’s ruinous, the way he loves you. He builds you up, each wave of pleasure washing over you until you’re tightening around him, fingertips digging into shoulders as the ecstasy claims you. His hand grasps your jaw, guiding your mouth back to his and drinking down your bliss as he spills himself inside of you.

The kissing doesn’t stop, he keeps you there pinned underneath him prolonging the moment for as long as he can because Beau, he’s shipping out tomorrow and he needs you for as long as he can have you.

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#beau cyclone simpson #beau cyclone simpson x reader #beau cyclone simpson x you #beau simpson #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson x you #top gun maverick

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pastorpresent · 2 years

Note

elvis presley with lolita reader. reader is always barefoot in her little flower garden at Graceland, reading her little books and in those cute little dresses,,, can u please elaborate on this <3(reader is OBVIOUSLY of age)

Privacy.

Thank you for the ask my lovely! I hope this is what you pictured at least a little.

{ an escape, a sanctuary, call it whatever. It doesn't matter. All that matters is it belongs solely to the two of you. }

Elvis x y/n, or Austin!elvis x y/n if preferred.

The flower garden was intially created for privacy.

Graceland had long been a famous landmark of sorts for an ocean of fans and sea of paparazzi long before your arrival. Regardless of whether Elvis was there or not, the crowds outside never waned - waiting for hours to see glimpses of anything at all through the tall metal gates.

You had of course accepted this loss of privacy when you accepted his request to be your partner.

It would've been far too naive of you to not consider the fact as part of your acceptance, and so you resigned to spend most of your time at Graceland inside.

Still, you missed the feeling of grass beneath your feet. You missed spending time amongst soft greens and the warm glow of the sun, but it was the sacrifice you had willingly made.

Elvis had a way of sensing when you were unhappy. It was actually quite impressive, really. The reality was you spent far too much time apart with his performing and recording, and so it only served to surprise you when he would return and immediately read you like an open book with all the skill of a pair that hadn't spent a second away from each other since courting.

It was during one of those moments when the initial purpose of the garden was formed.

"You need to tell me what's wrong, sweetness, or I can't help you," he said, and you force your small smile, cuddling into his side and settling against the cushions. You hardly want to ruin your precious time together causing him worry.

He didn't let the topic drop though, and when you finally relented and admitted to missing the privacy you used to have outside, he looks thoughtful. He's uncharacteristically quiet for the rest of the evening, and you worry initially that your admittance had upset him.

You wake the next morning to gardeners digging up large patches of grass around the back of the house, and Elvis watching them from the window with a smug grin.

"What's going on?"

You tumble out the covers and join him at the window, eyebrows creasing as you watch the crowd of workers below drink from mugs of coffee and operate machinery.

"Privacy, baby," Elvis announces, gesturing to the current mounds of soil in the garden, and you arch your brow.

"Privacy?"

Elvis looks almost conspiratorial as he winks, tugging you closer by an arm around your waist. He presses a kiss to your head, and nods.

"You'll see soon enough, don't let anyone say I let my girl want for nothin'."

And soon enough, you did see. Elvis admitted upon the gardens completion that he hadn't designed it exactly, because he was no good at that, but he had pitched his vision with the tag line of private, and that it was. The garden was surrounded in dense shrubs and trees, making it all but invisible to prying eyes.

The first time you ventured out, you had a book tucked under your arm in preparation. You kicked your shoes off onto the concrete, and Elvis sent you a funny look which made you laugh.

"Trust me, it feels amazing," you promise, and he leaves his shoes at the door even if he does appear skeptical.

"You're raving mad, woman," he says, but you grab his hand and pull him towards the garden anyway.

It truly was a work of art. The flowers bloomed so bright and colourful. The grass smelt wonderfully fresh, and it felt even better beneath your toes. You spend time admiring everything, until ultimately you feel yourself get tugged down by Elvis, thumping against his chest as he slides down a large tree. A brief playful fight breaks out between you both, as you try to squirm free and he keeps a tight hold of your torso, pressing kisses over your cheek.

Eventually, you relent with a smile, announcing your surrender as you sink into him and flatten your dress.

"Do you like it?" Elvis asks, and you can hear the note of nervousness in his voice, a niggling doubt in the back of his mind.

You arch your neck enough to capture his lips against your own.

"I love it. It's perfect. Thank you so much, baby," you hum, and the traces of tension vanish from his body as he plants a small peck to the corner of your mouth.

"Anything for you, mama."

-x-

"I thought I'd find you out here."

You look up from your book, back against the tree, and you can feel the soft smile sliding over your features when you see him approaching.

Something isn't quite right, though. He was supposed to be on the road to LA right about now. You had waved him off yourself, shielding your tears from the boys and the fans as you watched his bus dissapear over the horizon.

That had been a good few hours ago, and yet here he was, still dressed in the clothes he left in with a defeated grimace on his face.

Wordlessly, you shuffle over and pat the ground next to you.

You spent most of your time in the garden over the last few months. It truly was an escape of sorts, and despite his insistence that he could hire someone for the upkeep you loved walking around with your watering can tending the beautiful flowers. You would often sit out here into the late hours, a cup of tea and a book at your side, listening to the hum of activity inside as whatever group Elvis had invited that night chatted and played music alongside him.

The garden had become a refuge for him too, in a lot of ways. You would share picnics together as the sun set over the soft grass. Sometimes he would bring his guitar and strum chords, singing softly. Sometimes you would both race and crouch around the maze of shrubbery, playing hide and seek like children. Other times you would both just lie there, intertwined and lost in the others touch.

Once the house had quietened, he would inevitably make his way outside with a cup of his own, and settle down beside you. You would lay your book aside with a flower pressed within to mark your page, and you would both talk for hours about everything and nothing.

"Got into a fight with the Colonel. He- he swore I wouldn't be singin' in this one. That's why I signed the goddamn contract - thought it would be one of those proper films that people would take seriously," he takes the offered space next to you, all but throwing himself at the ground.

Immediately you open up your arms, letting him get close enough to hide away in the crook of your neck. His arms wrapped secure around your waist, and you hugged him as tight as you could manage, kissing the top of his head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I truly am," your heart aches as you feel the dampness on your neck, and you wish you could wipe away his sadness with the tears.

"I read the damn script and made 'em turn the bus right 'round. Colonel is gonna be furious. So will daddy."

"Screw 'em," you say reverently, and you mean it.

"Screw all of 'em. If you're not happy, it's not up to them to force you."

He pulls back a little, although he's still holding onto you like you're the oxygen he needs to breathe.

"I ever told you how much I love ya?"

You smile, shrugging.

"A few times, but I'm always up for hearing it again."

His face breaks into that child like little grin you only ever see when you're both alone, and it's infectious.

He kisses you deep, hands combing gently through your hair. The kiss leaves you a little breathless, and he seems to count that as a triumph.

"I do love the privacy of this place," he hums, and goes in for another you're more than happy to give.

-x-

Years will pass, and eventually a little girl with his bright curious eyes and his mischievous smile along with your own adoration for the blooming flowers reads under the tree sandwiched between you both.

Years later, you place a small memorial just beneath the same tree. The rest of Graceland is opened to the public, but you fence off the little garden. You hum the tune to a few chords once played on a guitar, and weep.

#elvis 2022 #elvis #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis movie #austin butler x you #austin butler #austin!elvis #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis x y/n #elvis drabble #asks #mywriting

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hauntedkidpersona · 1 year

Text

Doom's Soulmate// Chapter-2

Pairing: PolyBts x Reader

Summary: I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone

Warnings: Toxic behaviour, Insecurities, Gender inequality, angst, depression, sexual assault, Kidnapping, obsessive tendency, jealousy, possesive behaviour, minor character death, Nudity, Anxiety, Panic attack, Manipulation, Emotional and Physical abuse, gaslighting, blood play. Eventual smut, Supernatural, soulmate au, Vampire au, Fanfiction. Eventual smut.

Genre- Fanfiction, polyramous relationship.

Word count: 10k+

Soulmate. The missing piece of your soul. A gift but are all gifts worth taking?

Masterlist- Chapter-1

Chapter-2

Tags- @lachimolala22019 @singukieee

𝑰𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝑰𝒏 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆—

It was peaceful.

As if you were floating on clouds. Ah, you must be in heaven or something. A movement had you squirm, your body immediately chasing the blanket. Cold. Your hands touched something way opposite of warmth, causing you to shiver.

Yoongi froze. He didn't want to wake you up, no he was content by looking at you. He just wished to pull the blanket you had used as a way to hide your face away from him. He didn't think that you would react this way.

He just feels sad that his mate has suffered in her childhood. He hates everyone who had put her through all the pain, if only he could kill them with his own hands. But unlike other times, he wishes to have the last strike. The last blow, as that sinner's soul leaves his body. Once and for all.

He was still struggling from Yuna's betrayal, even though the one suffering the most being Jungkook and Jimin.

Jungkook had been having a hard time, wallowing in guilt and regret that only erupted as rage at Yuna's betrayal and their mate's absence. His vampire went on a full-blown blood lust. On run, he had come across Yuna which only triggered his instincts. His vampire saw her as a thorn and if not for Namjoon and Jin. That body would have been unrecognisable while her being a part vampire couldn't even save her.

Only purebreds like him had the boon of immortality.

Dhampirs like her could easily die, not that he cares for her anyways.

You squirmed. Again.

Now yoongi was alert, his senses picking up the beat of your heart. The sudden rise letting him know your getting out of your dreamland.

He sees you stretch, hands and legs flying into a star-cross position and then in a second, your hopping your stomach up. As if doing an exercise, it was funny. The position but-

"Oof—" Yoongi groans, your body falling flat on his side.

Now that hurts like a bitch.

As soon as he looks up, he is in front of your wide-eyed face. Who is now glaring down at him with all the hate it could muster.

"What the fuck-"

They both speak, too shock on comprehend the situation.

Yoongi scrambles out as you go to strike him, completely livid at the thought of a vampire beside you.

"Calm down, It's me. Your mate." Yoongi speaks as you storm near him, driving him right across the wall.

Your nostrils flared as absolute rage consumed you. Did they kidnap you? How low can someone fall? Where is your Grandpa, he would be worried for you. But for now, your attention moves onto the vampire. Instinctively, your hands touched your neck. Feeling the supple flesh, relieved. You heave out a sigh. Atleast they didn't drink her blood.

You scoff at his words, "Mate, My ass."

Pointing a finger at his chest, you glower at him. "How dare you bring me here? Where's my Grandpa, tell me"

You were panicking inside, the room wasn't yours? You weren't with your Grandpa, fuck you can't even remember what happened. How did you reach here from the hotel? Your head pounds as much as you try to remember. Eyebrows pinching at the pain, you finally decide to let go. The memory digging was intensifying the pain. As if someone threw a rock over you.

Feeling a gaze, you snap your head towards the door to see Jungkook standing there as if he saw some ghost.

"Fuck me," You murmur, mind reeling for escape already.

You felt like a prey, far from being comfortable around the creatures deemed as your mates. If they wish, they could rip your head off. Hell, Jungkook almost did that. They are scary? They make her skin crawl in the worst way possible.

"You can't run away from us now." As if reading her mind, Yoongi smiles at her.

That only made her skin pale. Goosebumps arising on it like an uninvited guest.

"He meant, we don't mean any harm." Snapping out of his daze, Jungkook scrambles to explain the misunderstanding.

You give him a scoff, far from believing the words coming directly from him.

Looking around, your eyes fell over the telephone. Your mind clicked as you hurry to dial the number you recall by heart.

But before you could punch the last pair of numbers, the telephone is snatched from you. Thrown viciously across the wall by none other than- Jungkook.

"Do you have a death wish," You scream at him,

He looks up to you, eyes gleaming with a dangerous glow of red. "MINE."

You stand frozen, disbelief coursing through it all. Coming out of your daze, you snap back. "Bitch, I am Mine. Nobody else's"

At your sheer disrespect, his eyes intensifies, as if pinning you to it like a magnet. An involuntary shiver arises inside you, leaving nothing but chaos in its wake.

"Jungkook, Calm down." It was yoongi who kept a hand on the youngest.

But no, it was if he couldn't see anything except you. His attention was making your skin crawl, reminding you exactly how wrong running now will be. You don't want a repeat of that night. Especially not when your chances of escaping is slim.

"I want to talk to my Grandpa," Speaking your idea, you look at the two vampires. Letting them know that you do not wish to stay here.

Jungkook chuckles, eyes holding anything but amusement. "Your our mate and your gonna stay in this manor, you like it or not."

You laugh, disbelief evident. "Bet, Ankit would have been a better mate than you could ever be."

Your words seemed to only tick the Vampire whose gaze darkens at the mention of the man you so wished to be your mate. Yoongi's eyes widens at your words, a scowl replacing it but when he sees Jungkook on brink of losing his sanity. He immediately grabs hold of Jungkook's arms, pulling the maknae with all his force.

"Let's go out," Yoongi brushes off the protest leaving Jungkook's mouth.

You watch as the two leave the room, a smirk gracing your lips.

Weren't you in their house? And as much as you know, Vampires have a keen hearing so that means the others will be around somewhere. Listening but not actually intervening.

Your acting bratty, you know that but your skin is itching for revenge. To annoy them and drive them up the wall.

Anything that could replace this sting of your heart.

And so you hurry, to close the door with a soft click. Which only served to alert the vampires of your acts. Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat.

"ANKIT should have been my soulmate," You yell on top of your lungs, putting every emotion into your vocal chords.

"Your mine, only mine." You mimic Hoseok's words,

"Only mine to fuck and claim." You then move to mimic taehyung, followed by a tiny Rawrrr which came out more like a kitten's meow but anyways— "Only mine to keep for the rest of eternity. In every birth, your mine Ankit." You scream out, mimicking Jin, Yoongi and Jungkook. Sarcasm was dripping down your tongue, while your rolled over chanting 'Ankit' over and over again.

As if his name was some Mantra, as if he was your salvation. Your liberation. Your fantastical man who wears a tuxedo.

You try to scream as much as you can. As if calling out to the sky, as if wanting the lines of destiny to magically bend over your stubbornness.

The loud footsteps of someone running had you straighten up. Moments later, a series of voices shouted through the door. And just like that, the momentary silence crashed down like a piece of glass awaiting a doom you brought ahead with your actions. You smirked, humming alongside the series of bangs right across the door.

"Open the door," You recognise that voice. Taehyung, was it?

"Oh please, let me enjoy my fantasy with Ankit. You don't know how many times I have dreamt of him fucking me," You internally cringe at your stupidity but nonetheless carry on the act.

You have read plenty of Wattpad smuts to exactly know what goes into it. Uh huh~

A harsh bang on the door had you jump, "I see, your in need of punishment." Namjoon growls, one that went straight to your heart.

No shit Sherlock.

Quickly pulling yourself out of the myriad emotions, you squint your eyes, "Punishment and me, No Ankit has already pulled that card on me way many times. It's not kinky anymore." Swirling the strand of your hair, you grimace.

You need to wash your hair.

Jimin sighs, "Kitten-

"Uh huh, that's what my ex called me. It's cringey as fuck." You shudder, lying through your teeth.

Though the reason was entirely different. You hated endearing words, any nickname that expresses love is poison to you. Even though love was the reason you walked into the library everyday to find something that sparks passion and rekindles love. Something that lights the flickering lamp of hope inside you.

Throughout your childhood, you watched your classmates falling in and out of love, going through break-up, depression and what not side effects of this love. Seeing their state, you always felt a little nice. Atleast, your heart isn't broken and that's how you were that cold girl in class with whom boys would think twice to approach.

Your heart being afraid of this love that makes one rebel? You laugh at the memory of a sweet boy running behind you as you scramble out of his sight. Knowing well that he wants to propose you.

You had to be loyal to these seven vampires. You roll your eyes, biting your lips in a huff.

Hoseok muses, "But I thought you didn't have any boyfriend?"

You chuckle, "Oh I did, how can I forget someone who took my virginity. He was one of the best fucks of my life."

At your remark, a combined series of growls follow through. What are they? A pack of wolves. You roll your eyes, sauntering over to the bathroom to take a bath and maybe relax to think nicely about how to make their lives hell. Stripping out of your clothes, you let the cold water seep into your head. It had you shudder but quickly getting it done, you move on to squeeze the shampoo into your head. Massaging the roots, you gather the foam and splash it across the wall with a giggle.

Taking the shower head, you clean your hair. After which, you follow the same with the rest of your body.

After a cold shower, you switch onto the hot one.

Letting the water splash against the wall, while you chase the droplets raining down with the tip of your finger.

You don't even know how much time has passed. Maybe, you should just go, deciding on the same. You dry your body and wrap the towel around your body. Pulling another from the hanger, you wrap your hair and sigh. Done.

And your tired.

Shaking your head, you slip out of the bathroom. Peeking around the room as your gaze fall on the now silent door. Maybe, they got tired.

Or maybe they heard me in the shower.

Good for you, not that you have anything to do with them.

Humming, you slide across the room. Inspecting it with a newfound curiousity.

It was a huge room. The Queen-sized bed attracting the most of your attention, where lays the silk sheets in purple, doused in a softness that had your hand itch to feel it against her. Shaking your head, you move to the far side of the room. There lay a side sofa with a small table, right across was a window through which you can enjoy the view of woods beyond.

Overall, the room gave you more of an ancient vibe than modern but then you had vampires old enough to have their own tastes which was kind of reflecting in the room.

By room you remember, your phone—

"I must search my phone, it must be here somewhere. I hope." You mumble to yourself, looking around as your eyes glaze over the gown neatly kept on a chair. Oh, quickly scurrying over you take your dress. Pressing onto it, while you pray that no one gave it for a wash.

You remember your gown had a pocket somewhere.

Ahah- your hand pressed against the hard surface. Your phone, oh God. Quickly pulling it out, you scream when you see the battery is dead.

"Ah," You scream in frustration, huffing and puffing. Now where to get a charger?

Going near the nightstand, you see another phone. That Jungkook might have broken the telephone but this phone right here is how you will contact your grandpa. Opening the phone, you do a little victory dance. No password, what a fool Indeed.

Biting your lip, you go over contacts. Quickly typing the numbers, you press the call button.

Taking the phone over your ear, you anxiously cross your arms as the phone rings at the other end.

"Hello, Chris speaking-" you jump when he answers at the fifth ring.

"Grandpatakemeoutofthishellholerightnow." You say it all in once, all the while stomping your feet impatiently.

Chris sighs, picking up her words. "Sweetheart, your back. Do you even know what happened to you?"

"I don't want to know, you come get me first. I don't want to stay here grandpa," You whine, throwing tantrum after tantrum.

"No, they are your mates. Learn to accept them," His answer came as a bucket of cold water on you.

How could he let you live with this monsters? Fuck, what are you supposed to do. And that's how anxiety grips your heart, you don't even have your aunt's bracelet. What will happen of you? They will suck you dry, no they won't. Your their one Soulmate right?

At this point, you don't even know that.

You sigh, asking exactly what he wants you to ask, "How did I end up here?"

Silence follows, and for a second she thinks the call is disconnected.

"Hello, Grandpa—

"You became a little, after your mates saved you and for your kind information. I did went to take you with me but you didn't want to leave their side so I let you be." Chris explains, but all you could hear was 'little'.

You closed your eyes, hand bawling into fists.

Why can't you remember what happened? Did you actually forgot what triggered you into that state? Maybe you did, a way to save yourself from further trouble. You wished, no wanted to know the events of that night but you know, somewhere your hesitating to ask the same. Do you really want to know?

No, you don't.

You don't need another stress to add up in your nightly breakdowns. That maybe selfish on your part, but that's what you think is the best for you. You know you aren't that strong, heck your weak when it came to emotions and to say something triggered you into being little is enough proof that you don't want a revisit of that horrible memory.

"But I have like seven mates, Grandpa. And how am I even supposed to bond with them, especially when all I feel is hate towards them?" You genuinely question, cause well you really don't know how to tackle this situation like an adult.

You know how you are. Mending things isn't your expertise, if anything you prefer to leave things as it is. Running away rather than facing, yes people would call you coward but you were one anxious bitch. Heck, your anxiety made you revise your books again and again. It made your stomach twist in pain, had you sweat like no other.

But then it was a symptom of your pcod. Atleast, that's what you have learnt all this years.

"Seven is a lot, but you can go one by one. Try to bond with them individually, learn about their likes and whatever you do. Make them your friends, before you head along the road of love." Chris chimes, making you feel disgust at the way he said that.

So cheesy, ugh your brain needs a break.

"Yeah, Bye Gramps." You wave off, even though he can't see it.

Cutting the call, you huff. Knowing them individually, you can try.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Now what should you wear? Going near the cupboard, you dig inside. One by one you throw the dresses out, the pink colours making you want to slam your head. Why are all this dresses so baby-like? Did you actually wore all this shits? Ugh, why?

Whoever brought this has a terrible taste.

You shake your head, the dresses back at your Gramps house are way better than this. Should you go and get them? Deciding, you go and quickly wear the same gown. Looking over the stand-mirror, you brush your curls that were still damp.

Well, you don't have time to set them now.

Opening the door, you skip down the stairs.

To know them individually. But with whom you should start?

"If she wants to leave, let her Jungkook. Your actions are not at all helping." Jin's voice chills her skin, the sheet coldness of it had her know how serious he actually is.

You could see they all are gathered in the living room. Keeping your breath as slow as possible, you stood just across the stairs. But no, your time is up when Namjoon whips his head to look right into your eyes that grew wide.

"You want me to die young or what," Keeping a hand across your heart, you saunter over with a neutral expression.

You could sense the atmosphere halting. The silence was intense, no one daring to break it.

Jungkook was practically sizing you up like a predator. You roll your eyes, giving him a look while in return, he scoffs at you.

You grimace, not knowing how to actually convey what you want. It's weird and makes you want to run away but you know, you can't. Not this time. "I will give you all a chance, but-" you gauge their reactions. Eyes rolling over one vampire to the other.

"I want to know all of you individually, so it would be nice if you all agree to it." You finish, not daring to meet anyone's stare.

A surprised look passes over the vampires, it was Namjoon who spoke first. "I- I mean that's okay with us."

"I am in." Jimin waves at you, and for some reason you could tell he is flirting with the way his eyes rake over your body. Clearing your throat, you look away as if avoiding the way he made you feel. Caged.

Hoseok looks over, even as the other vampires nod. Agreeing to the same.

"Which one of us you want to bond first with?" Jin smiles at you warmly, the earlier coldness replaced by the tenderness that had your mind feel tingly.

Either he has years of experience or he is just good in hiding his emotions.

You don't know whom to choose. Now that you look closely, all are extremely handsome men. No doubt in that but looks could be deceiving. You know cause that's how world was fooled over and over again. Beauty brought wars, heartbreak, pain. It was an illusion, if anything you want to see the what's in the inside.

And as much as you know, in that field. All of them are lacking.

You know they are waiting for an answer, anxiously looking at you and each other. Attentive yet somewhat tense.

Deciding to go with the easy one, you choose "Hoseok."

For a moment, you can see Hoseok's shock but that disappears as soon as it came. Letting you know that the guy was good in hiding too, so what? Two can play the game for sure. At your choice, the other vampires nod and leave the two of you to your devices. You know all of them are little disappointed that you didn't choose them but guess masking that emotion was easy rather than adding another fight to the already raging one wasn't a good option here. It wasn't like you don't want to, they have to have patience.

He moves towards you, "So, where you want to go?"

"First, my grandpa's house. I want to pick my clothes."

"If you don't mind, shall I take you for shopping? That could be a perfect place to start our date- er bonding I mean." Hoseok stammers, making you smile softly at him.

The reason you chose him was little selfish on your part. You recall the night Jungkook attacked you, it was him who came to check on you. Though at that moment, you were very much pissed to take any kind of help. Lest being seen as some vulnerable girl who will cry any second. But nonetheless you remembered and were grateful that he somewhat cared about you. Even though, he didn't know you would be his soulmate. That only meant, you could rely on him more than anyone.

Sensing you haven't answered yet, Hoseok taps your shoulder. "Oh, sorry. Sure, we can go shopping."

And the smile he gave you had you blinded for a second there.

You don't know whether it was a good idea.

But you know, the smoke of regret is strong in here. God knows in what attitude did you thought that it would be great to just go in this gown fit for some event. It made you feel so extra but at the same time you marvelled at the attention you drew. The maids had a hard time stopping themselves from praising you. So much that you could even see a hint a envy in their eyes. Maybe you were misreading, or maybe not.

For the first time, you had painstakingly taken your time to do your hair and apply a little makeup.

Eyeshadow and all weren't your cup of tea and neither you ventured at that part. You had done whatever you had saw your classmates doing before going on a date. And that's it, your done. Now no more re-checking.

"We look fine, we are. Yes we are," You whisper to yourself, taking your purse and the phone which one of the maids had offered to charge.

She mentioned that your phone was same as that of Namjoon, so she got his charger because you weren't ready to go. It was funny but you won the argument and she had to go. She is a sweet lady. She has been serving the vampires for over 200 years and she had promised to fill you in all the gossip surrounding them.

Which you are most definitely looking forward to.

"You look stunning," you whip your head to see an equally dressed hoseok. And might you add, he looks ravishing-

That tuxedo gave him a regal look, the muscles rippling underneath a temptation you can't undo, who said only women can do seduction. This Vampire in front of you was a walking sin, you could say cause a maid herself couldn't stop licking her lips at him. So much that she had to avert her eyes before she is caught in the act.

A spike of jealousy shoots up your skin but suppressing the urge, you smile at hoseok whose gaze beholds you like an ocean beholding the waves. Crashing, rising and tumbling down at the whim of his fingertips.

Your mood plummets, gaze flickering towards her in disdain. What's with people trying to drool over your mate?

The maids bow, as one speaks. "My Lord, do you want to feed before leaving?"

Your eyes twitch, does he feed from her? You look at hoseok sharply, unknown to your burning gaze. He waves her off, "No, you can go."

And as soon as she leaves, your soured mood no longer wishes to go on that date.

Still, acting up. You cover the hideous emotions as if they were nothing but a pile of trash. "Ironically, they say opposite attracts. Don't they?" You throw a question wrapped in dirge. Eyes narrowing with a mocking smile, one that had hoseok frowning ever so slightly.

"Are you jealous?" He raises an eyebrow, smile stretching up at the very thought.

You chuckle, "If getting reasons as to why giving you all a chance is a waste then yes, I am jealous. Now, hurry up before I change my mind," You brush past him, rage bubbling inside you like a volcano waiting for eruption.

Vampires can't be trusted, can they? That maid acted all wise in front of you but as soon Hoseok came, she went to throw herself at him like some bitch in heat. Are all maids here your rival? But are they, you laugh to yourself. If Soulmate and a commoner can ever be compared than sure your standing was far high than they could ever imagine. You will let them know that you being good doesn't mean anyone can stomp on you.

But for now, you got a date with Hoseok.

You blink your eyes, looking around to see your already out of the mansion.

You sigh, this much anger won't do any good to you. Especially not when your senses stop working. Atleast, you didn't crash straight against the guard who was very much eyeing you.

"Y/N?" Before you could look back, Hoseok's firm hands brush against your arms, settling down at your lower waist. Tilting your head, you swallow at the close proximity but say nothing.

You let Hoseok pull you towards the car ride awaiting just across the entrance of his house. The streaks of anger were still burning, but deciding to know the Vampire. You let the fire extinguish, granting it no release which only meant it will be visiting you again. Soon.

The entire ride you and Hoseok didn't exchange any words except few smiles here and there.

It was suffocating to say the least but still you pulled through.

Looking out, you watched the trees pass by. The crowd at this side were very few, infact you couldn't even see any people except cars parked in a line. Wonder in which rich locality has hoseok brought you in? If he thinks he could win you over with a dash of money and some luxury then he is wrong. So wrong.

The car comes to a halt, as Hoseok gets out. Before you could get out, he encages your hand in a gentle grip. Making you internally gag, what a gentleman.

Is he trying to court you? Seriously.

You hope this courting would actually help you to know him better. If not, then vallah your gonna whoop his ass. And not in a kinky way, nope.

As soon as your out, you leave his hand. Attention going over your hands that are busy setting your dress of any crease. As soon as your done, you look up to see Hoseok extending his arm as if wanting you to hold it-

Your mind stutters, is he fucking serious?

Twirling around, you move inside the first shop you see with a dress sign. The rush of cold air as soon as you step-in had you involuntarily shiver, but brushing past it. You look around the expensive store that screams luxury and calls you poor in many ways. So much that you don't even wanna count. As long as you don't have to see an age-old vampire trying to court you, anything is fine. Yup.

"Mam, Sir. Can I help you?" A women comes up to you, wearing a smile she must have learnt.

Cause well, if you tried to smile like that. Your mouth would for sure hurt like hell.

Looking back, you see Hoseok. Knowing exactly how a certain Vampire was trailing behind you all along. Not that you mind but having a handsome Vampire meant having to see women falling flat against his feet like some offering willing to please him or something like that. And for sure, your correct when you see the women brighten up at the sight of Hoseok.

What actually irked you was how Hoseok was keenly smiling so brightly that your insides melted. Not with butterflies but with rage.

Wow, God made sure that for eternity. You will be on your toes. Ugh.

So annoying, rolling your eyes. You move along the sections. Taking whatever dress you could pull, you saunter inside the dressing room. Needing a moment to decide why this whole decision to give them a chance was a failure in itself. And why you should have escaped, a much better option than all this shit you have to go through.

Taking a deep breath, you fan your face with the back of your hand.

Looking over the dress, you sigh. You actually want to fight Hoseok, bonding can go down the drain. Your fuming, why doesn't he go and fuck all those bitches? Just like how he and the other Vampires did all this years.

Why should you sit here and burn in jealousy. Your soulmate can only bring insecurity in you, and nothing else.

A knock had you shout a 'Wait a min' even though all you wished was to snap at that person who was only irritating you with all that banging on the door.

"Can I come in?" Hoseok speaks softly, as if you were some child. You scoff.

"This is a bad idea, can you just drop me at my Grandpa's?" You speak, letting your frustrations out. You can't take this shit, in no way can this vampire and you be mates.

Grandpa was right, your bond was a defect in itself.

Why bother saving when it's doomed until the very end.

"Just, open the door." Hoseok demands, leaving no room for arguments.

Unlocking the door, you let him in. As soon Hoseok enters, his eyes look over you with a tender look. "Sweetheart, why do you feel like this? Have I done something wrong?"

Your so frustrated that even though all the complaint lay at the tip of your tongue. Your unable to say or much less convey the emotions. Your angry, no furious at him and the world. Maybe it's just your hormones or your just way too fucking sensitive.

Shaking your head, "It's nothing," and you make a beeline to leave, again.

But before you could, Hoseok stops you. Brushing the curls covering the expanse of your face, he caresses your face with a tenderness your so foreign to. "If you want, we can go somewhere else? Tell me, do you feel okay?"

You nod at his concern, biting your lip when the same heartwarming smile graces his face.

How could this Vampire spread such warmth when all you could feel is cold at the touch. "Why are you acting this nice? I don't like it."

There. You said it, as your heart couldn't help but want the bitter pill to be shared by him too. Why only you should feel this jealousy, this love and this feeling so foreign. This possessiveness shouldn't be there, not when you don't even know him at all. But then, it wasn't like you were asked before getting them as your soulmates.

He frowns, at your question. Taking a double-take but when your expression stay the same. He knows, you aren't playing with him. "What do you mean?"

Such a thickhead, you sigh.

Crossing your arms, you speak. "Tell me about yourself? Anything."

You wait, all ears to the man who takes a moment before smiling at you. "I am 10,000 years old. Name's Hoseok and I am your soulmate. Your hope, your sunshine."

You gasp, hands flying across your mouth in a dramatic way. "Damn, that's old."

Hoseok's eyes widen at your remark, hands clutching over his chest. "In human years, I am only 28. Not old."

You roll your eyes, "Your still an old man, Vampire or not."

Hoseok's eyes darken at your words and it only had you watch in amusement but alas, it didn't last when he saunters into your personal space, pressing you right against the wall with a force that had you groan at the impact. Peering over, your breath gets caught in your throat. He was just an hairsbreath away and if you or him moved, even a little then you would kiss. At the prospect, your heart hammered. As if demanding you to do it, to get it over it. But no, it's your first kiss.

"Darling," he hums, voice slicing through her heart like smooth velvet doused in honey. "If I were you, I would take that back."

You look into his eyes, the obsidian spun darkness luring you into an ocean your so not familiar with. It entices your heart, tempting you to do exactly what he wants. Fall. Right into him, fall so down that getting up would be a task you would rather give up then struggle over.

"What if I don't," you decide to push his buttons, raising an eyebrow. You tilt your head, successfully caging yourself in an odd angle of proximity.

"Then I will make you,"

Before he could crash onto your lips like some beast awaiting a feast, you encase his mouth with the palm of your hand. Successfully deterring his destination for now.

"Sorry, Vampire. You will have to earn this." Tapping across his chest, you let him know that you wish for some space. Which he gives, stepping back as you leave a breath of relief. So minuscule that it would be hard to gauge, but then aren't Vampires an expert at this?

He knows the affect he has on you.

He does and that's scary but at the same time it's not. You don't know the correct word to express it but it makes you feel torn in all directions. Question is, in which direction you should go?

"Just to let you know, I was being polite to that dhampir and this lady only because my mate thinks I should respect all women no matter what. If I failed, then you can gladly punish me." His next words had an electric current run over your body, snapping your head at him.

You can't believe it.

Did he really? Do all this so that you could be impressed.

Your heart involuntarily squeezed at the care and love, distraught you grimace as to how you should react to this. You don't know. You aren't familiar with all this love talk but can you ignore what the heart wants?

You hum, feeling a lot better now.

"Now let me fix our date." Taking hold of your hand, he pulls you out of the dressing room.

Hoseok takes you to the fourth floor, a series of casual clothes lined up for women was where you found yourself standing at. He chose too many tops and leggings for you, waving off any women who tried to assist him. Your skin flushed when all his attention was on you, giving you an instant relief from all those workers who were trying hard to gain his attention.

It was annoying that everything was cute in his eyes and if you didn't stop him, you were afraid the whole shop will be empty in a matter of seconds.

After buying all the necessary things, you went up to pay.

"Are you hungry? I know this restuarant that is preety famous." Hoseok tilts his head as if awaiting your answer while you trail behind him.

At the thought of food, your stomach grumbled. You coughed to cover up your embarassment but hoseok simply nodded in understanding. "We should hurry then."

You wait on the sidelines as Hoseok pays for your items with a black card. To say you were shell-shocked would be an understatement, you knew vampires were rich but this was another level. Even your bank account won't ever be ready to shop in this store much less burn holes in your pocket.

"But that would mean only I will have to eat?" You grimace, knowing well how in that cafe the vampires bought a warm cup of blood.

So what Hoseok will have in the restuarant? Blood soup?

The thought made your stomach churn, the sight of blood was not a very nice moment for you.

It was why you ignored the vampires in the cafe cause well if you saw them drinking blood. You were sure you would either vomit or faint right then and there.

"Let's go."

You nod, letting Hoseok haul you out of the store. In inside, you were screaming. Hoping to think of anything but the sight of blood.

You did not have a nice memory with blood. Not when your friend's brother got hit with a stone. All because of the stupid fight you and the other kids participated in. You recall pressing your hand on the back of his head to stop the bleeding as your friend shouted 'See, this much blood.'

And the next second you knew, you had fainted. The sight of blood was more scary than seeing a ghost in the halloween nights.

Hoseok could see your distracted. It was as if something was bothering you. He wished to ask you but sensing how your still hesitant opening up to him had him stop right there.

Giving the shopping bags to the driver, he takes hold of your hand with a smile. "Come, the restuarant is right across the road."

He had already reserved the table. Considering the owner was a great friend of Jin, it wasn't that hard for Hoseok to get a little bit of early reservations. Helping you take a seat, he had let you take the order.

Whatever you will have, he will too.

Your eyes lit up, at the sight of the food- Chinese, Indian, Italian.

You name it and they had it.

"Mam, Sir. Your order?" A waiter comes across our table as you give him a soft smile.

"For starters, I would have a Manchurian and then Schezwan noddles. That's all." You close the book, looking over to hoseok with a hesitant look.

"And you?"

Hoseok smiles, "I will have whatever the lady will have."

As soon as the waiter leaves, you give a look to Hoseok. Not understanding how he can order food when all Vampires can have is blood. If your brain and memory is not fooling you then yeah, Vampires live on blood and not food. Heck, even your classmates think that food tastes like poison to them. Did he do this for you? You can't wrap your head around this at all.

"I heard that Vampires can only have blood?" You raise an eyebrow, earning a snort from him.

"Let's just say a women helped us with that." Hoseok chuckles, watching as you glare at him.

Not at all enjoying his way with words. Which women? And what help is he talking about. Involuntarily, your mind went to those maids. Dammit, can't these vampires have male servants. Clearing your throat, you try your best to hold onto your emotions bubbling inside of you.

Your eyes twitch, "Oh, was she some witch? In return of this taste, she must have asked you all to fuck her. Didn't she?"

But Hoseok's face glows as if knowing exactly what is going on in that preety little head of yours.

"Darling, you shouldn't lower yourself to that now. My mate isn't some witch and even if I want more than anything to fuck you. I can wait." His words had you cough in shock, even as erotic images of you and him cloud your mind like a glue.

Biting your lip, you suppress the urge. Hoping your red face would not give you away so easily.

"Cat got your tongue."

You scowl at him, but before you could retort. The waiter arrives with the food. After serving the food, your busy digging in. Too hungry to look at a certain Vampire who is very much looking at you with not so innocent eyes.

Hoseok couldn't help but smile as you gobble up your food like some starved man left in the scorching dessert without any trace of water. His eyes couldn't help but narrow at your lips, the red color taunting him to no end. He couldn't control himself around you, so much that he was ready to claim you right inside the dressing room.

To bend you over and fuck you as he marks your skin with his bite and hickeys. He was glad that you stopped him. Otherwise, the others would have been at his throat by now.

Hoseok glares at the far end corner of the room. Knowing exactly that the others are standing right there. He knows cause well Jin wouldn't help him get reservations without an ulterior motive. They all want to be there and see exactly what they will do on this date.

He sighs, so much for bonding.

"Aren't you eating?" You bring him out of his thoughts, shaking his head.

He smiles, digging right in.

You smile at the way his eyes lit up at the exquisite taste. You hush him, not wanting him to again start talking. Not that you don't love him blabbering, but right now. Your too hungry to care. "We don't want our food to be cold, so eat. You can praise the chef later."

As soon as your done with food, it's time for the dessert Hoseok specially ordered for you. As your taking a bite of the chocolate ice cream, Hoseok speaks up. "Do you really think that Ankit should have been your mate?"

Halting your actions, you hum. Not knowing what to say, "If I am honest, somewhere I did hope Ankit would be my mate. But now that I think, my reasoning for this was only because he talked to me very sweetly and not only me. To any women, he was the same. He didn't even know them and yet the way he talked was as if your in a presence of some Prince. But it was just a crush, nothing else so it's in the past."

You see Hoseok being deep in thought and you curse. Did you rant? Why did you have to call him Prince, but then wasn't that his nickname? It was, so you weren't in trouble.

You hope so.

"Ah, but you should know better than screaming his name in front of your mates." His voice, wrapped in velvet had you shiver unknowingly.

You gulp, knowing well what is he referring at?

"Well, were you jealous?" You hide your swirling thoughts with a raised question.

To which, he only chuckles. As if it was the most obvious thing, "Jealous, Nah my sweet. I was fucking seething at the way you chanted his name." He growls, the same animalistic aura surrounding him.

He looked deadly, no wonder the Vampire was pissed at your earlier actions.

"But your punishment can wait, for now. Tell me." He raises his hands, fingertips brushing against the narrow end of your mouth in poised thoughtfulness.

Instinctively, you licked your lips. His eyes darting to the same. As he gave you a stern look 'Don't'

And you licked your lips, again, defying him like anything.

Pulling his hand back, he hums at you. "I see, Namjoon wasn't wrong when he said you were a brat."

You smirk, letting him know that you are. And you won't go down without a proper fight, why should you? But somewhere, even you know that this is all a facade. Your not the one your so hard pretending to be. Inside, only you know how much your freaking out at the thought of having sex with your supposed soulmates. Your a virgin and let's just say, all lies that your feeding them will have to come to an end.

But for now, you will revel. Acting exactly how you want to be seen.

As soon as the dessert is finished, Hoseok and you take your leave.

Your feet are already killing you, the heels weren't that comfortable at all but then it was all worth it. It completed your look. Otherwise you would have looked no less than a baby in front of him.

Blame that thing on your height.

The familiar sight of mansion greets you from the car seat. Now that you see it more clearly, you could tell that it was huge. No it was gigantic. Plus the gothic touch gave a feeling of royalty. Vampires do have a strange taste, but you like it?

"How many rooms are there in your mansion?" You ask, genuinely curious.

Hoseok hums, "We have total 104 rooms."

And you had to literally sniff to make sure your breathing through your nose and not just stare at him like you saw something way too extraordinary. Which you did. Damn, they are rich. "Oh, that's nice."

You clear your shock, even as Hoseok smiles at you.

Passing through the gates of the mansion, the car comes to a halt as Hoseok helps you out, again but this time you don't resist.

"Thank you," You say with gratitude.

Hoseok shakes his head, "It's my pleasure, you go inside. I will bring your bags." Patting your back, he goes back to help the driver with unloading.

You smile at his sweetness, even as you enter the mansion. But before you even reach the door.

It's thrown open as a pair of arms engulfs you. "Finally, your back."

"Jimin, stop hogging her." Hoseok comes from behind you as the Vampire nuzzles against your neck, earning a shiver from you.

Nipping your skin, he pulls back with a grin. "My mate doesn't have a problem, does she?"

Your too shocked to react. Did he just bit you? Touching the spot near your neck, you glare at him. Not at all enjoying such open physical affections. "Well she has,"

You recall him. His attitude towards you when you first met him was still as bitter as the cold mountains of the Himalayas.

Not giving him any more reaction, you hurry to the room you came from. Too tired to deal with the others. Your feet were killing you. Maybe a warm bath would help, you wouldn't know until you try so.

As soon as you enter your room, you make sure to lock it as you throw your heels on opposite directions. Huffing you stretch your feet and hurry to the bathroom.

"A nice bath is what I need." You sing along, entering the bathroom—

"The hell-" You yell as a very naked Yoongi stood inside.

His back was facing you, a hand in towel. But as soon as he goes to turn, you scream and close your eyes. Muttering all the curses you might have heard in your lifetime. "What are you doing in my room? Pervert"

Yoongi sighs, throwing the towel right on your face. "Go away. This is my room."

The audacity of this man, no vampire.

You threw the towel down, looking up at him in pure disgust.

"hmph, as if I am dying to be in your room." You roll your eyes as you leave the place, almost running away from the vampire who makes you mad just by the thought of him.

What you didn't see was how Yoongi was following you with a scowl.

"For your kind information, we had a misunderstanding. But did you let us explain it to you, no, so stop being a bitch." He calls you out, all of a sudden with a completely different argument as you take in a sharp breath.

Turning around, you no longer care if he is naked. Your attention is right at his face, "Why should I? I have heard about the rumours surrounding your whole group. If anyone is to be blamed then it's your reputation as a petty fuckboy. As soon as you got a taste of my blood in Yuna. Suddenly, the whole bangtan wants to act like some godforsaken lovers they are not. Is that why, you were with Yuna that day. So that you all could make love to her? Am I right? Let it be huh, I know men like you. As long as the women isn't of some importance, respect and common decency is nowhere to be seen."

Your heart was hammering as you drew short, sharp breaths. It was as if you were consumed in a fire pit. Your voice cracked in the intensity of the anger you spoke in. You knew well, you knew that Vampires recognise their mate through blood. You even know how Yuna got your blood but does that give these men free ticket to hurt other women?

If there's something that spreads faster than a forest fire than its a rumour. How many have you heard about each one of them? So much that your ears might bleed, forget about eternity and all.

How could you stop from sympathizing from all those women they had hurt? For a moment, those women might have been a fool in your eyes but was that one-sided. No. They were part of it. For what, just to get some.

Playing games, leading them on and then dropping them like some rag doll.

Yoongi laughs, eyes beholding her in a cruel look. "Yeah? What about you? Didn't you fantasize Ankit as your mate and how he should have fucked you." He scoffs, "A whore indeed."

Your eyes widen. He just did not just call you that-

"You" Before your hand can slap him hard, he catches your wrist in an iron grip.

"We all went crazy when you ran away. What did you do? You brought Ankit to make us jealous so that you could satisfy your heart. You are a coward so stop acting like some goddess who deserves the whole world. When in actuality, your worse than us. Atleast, we accept our mistakes but you." He scoffs, pushing you away with a harsh glare.

While all you could do was stare at him with unshed tears.

Whatever he said was like a dagger to your heart. When did you call yourself a goddess? You didn't think like that, yes your mad at all of them but that doesn't mean you don't love them. You do but right now, it's hard to see that love which lies past the clouds of misunderstandings.

You know your childish, you do cause you hold grudges until the very end.

It was your negative trait, one that you cannot get rid of. Heck, you aren't able to forgive your father until now. How could you then forget their first impressions on you?

Blinking back your tears, you silently take your leave. Not really wishing to argue any more.

As soon as you leave, Yoongi glares at that door you left through. As if cursing it to even be there.

Minutes later, a happy Hoseok enters the room but sensing the drop of mood in his mate's aura. He frowns, "What happened, Yoongi? Is Y/N here?"

"This is my room, not hers." Yoongi snaps, groaning as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

Whatever argument he had with you was just his frustration getting the best of him. Literally he can't decide what to do with you, his mate? You push his buttons like no other, you love him one second and then throw him away like a trash. You sing, all for him but as soon as he comes. You refuse to even indulge him.

It almost feels like your slipping away and he is helpless. Heck, all are.

Yoongi doesn't know what will it take to have you trust him and the others.

It's what driving him up to the wall.

Leaving him in nothing but the crumbs of an impending heartbreak. One that he wishes to avoid at all cost.

Hoseok sighs, "Did you two argue?"

He looks up, letting him know exactly that.

Hoseok groans, "You fool, what did you say to her and where is she?"

He glares at his mate, not in the mood to have another guilt trip. Yoongi knows his words were harsh towards you, heck he is even regretting it the moment he called you a whore but no. His hurt and his emotions got the better of him, and in the end.

It was them who got hurt. You and him.

Him and you.

Hoseok sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have to give her time, our bonding won't happen in a day Yoongi. I just hope you didn't ruin it by doing something you shouldn't have."

And with that, Hoseok leaves the room.

His steps fading, as Yoongi stares into oblivion.

Not knowing what to feel and do now.

Namjoon flipped the pages of his book, sighing as his attention went anywhere but the book in hand.

His thoughts overtaken by a certain women deemed as his destiny, the missing piece of his soul but the question was, were they worthy of her?

Today when he saw her and Hoseok in the restuarant. He was almost jealous, wishing it was him in place of his mate but he knew well than that. They all needed her, desired her but as she wished to have them individually, who were they to refuse her?

They all were now divided. Awaiting their turn anxiously. Here, jealousy and envy bloomed like a vine encasing their unbeatable heart.

His trance got broken by the thick blackened clouds that were soon dragged down by the heavy rain which held its delicate frame. The clouds who struggled to withstand the burden of the weight which the rain held, soon gave in as the rain poured down over the land with a roar.

Lightning striked as darkness rolled over.

"It's raining," Quietly padding through the library, Jimin comes out of a section with a book pressed against his arm.

Namjoon hums, eyes taking a peek at the book named 'How to Impress your crush' as he looks at Jimin with an almost amused expression.

"What? I need to impress my women and I am seriously studying." Jimin groans, as he takes a seat and flips through the pages with interest.

That, everyone is trying to do. Namjoon sighs, as your face appears into his imagination. They all are holding back but until when? Even they don't know. Out of all of them, Jungkook is the most possessive which is actually creating problem for all of them. "By the way, where's Jungkook?"

Jimin shrugs, "He might be in the gym, as always."

He sighs, the youngest has a weird fascination with working out. So much that if he wants to take his anger out, he will go to the gym instead.

Which is understandable as he wasn't present in the mansion since morning.

He and Jin clearly disapproved of Jungkook's actions. They didn't want to force you to stay, and when Jungkook had went and did just that. Let's just say, no one was pleased. But he can't blame him when it was his vampire that had him become like that. Every one of them has their Vampire which surfaces as soon as their mate is in the radar and from how Jungkook is reacting, it's safe to say his Vampire isn't pleased. Not until it has claimed you as his. Which can only be done after he has marked you.

"And what about Taehyung and Jin?"

Jimin sighs, "I don't know. Taehyung might be in his painting room and Jin will be either in the kitchen or in his room."

Namjoon nods, mind going onto the earlier conversation he had with taehyung. He spoke about impressing you with a painting of yours and Jin had been trying the same but instead of painting. It was the food he was working on.

"Have you all seen Y/N?" Hoseok strides in, looking around as if you can magically appear in sight.

Jimin closes his book, attention moving onto him. "What do you mean? Didn't she came with you?"

He was still sulking from the advice this book gave him. As it was not at all working on you. Did his charm not faze you in the slightest, but then Jimin could tell the slight raise in the beat of your heart and how your skin flushed as you tried to hide it in a cloak of irritation. He licks his lips, thinking of more ways to tick you again and again.

Until your dam breaks and-

Shaking his head, he brings his imagination out. First, he has to see where exactly are you?

They all concentrate closely, vampire senses heightening as if pinning your exact location. In this mansion, other than you there wasn't any human. And so it wasn't long, that they heard the familiar beat of your heart. It was faint, meaning you were a little far away but still it was there and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly, all lights turned out as complete darkness fell over the mansion.

"Wow, great." Jimin claps sarcastically, moving out as his vision clears in the darkened room.

Hoseok and Namjoon shake their head, part in relief and part in annoyance. Relief that you didn't ran away and annoyance for the sudden lights out.

"I will go and escort Y/N to her room."

As soon as Hoseok says that, Namjoon and Jimin frown.

"You had her for date, Now it's my time." Jimin huffs, hurrying out as fast as he could.

Namjoon sighs, "She didn't choose you yet." But he was already gone.

Great.

In another part of the mansion, the maids scurried around Jin who was now hurling insults for those who thought it would be nice to cut the lights. He was trying to decorate his special cake but still, heeding his vampire senses he continued on his work. But not before muttering few profanities here and there.

"You all can leave, or be silent. Choice is yours." He voices out, tone coming out a lot harsher than intended.

As soon as he is done, he puts the cake back into the freezer.

Moving out, he decides to go into his room and rest for the time.

From morning, he has been trying out this cake he had learnt from YouTube. And now he just wishes to go and have a rest, maybe even think of a nice place on how to exactly approach his mate. He can only hope you choose him for the date now.

( 𝑭𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 )

"Daddy, I want this one" You whine, trying to use your puppy eyes on him.

Jin sighs,"You already have that."

Taehyung groans, "How can you say that to my baby, Jin hyung. Let her have it."

Taehyung comes in, dumping the clothes into the trolley. Judging by how full it was, it seems he brought the whole store. They really have to control on their greed to spoil you because Namjoon has been literally chiding him for all the things they have already brought for you. Day before yesterday, Jimin and Jungkook had taken you to a waterpark and from there you all had went to buy games.

You squeal, jumping into Taehyung as he groans at the impact but laughs when you pepper his face with kisses.

"You forgot me," he taps his cheek, even as you giggle.

Before you could go to him, Taehyung tightens his grip around you. "No, stay."

He frowns, glaring at taehyung who doesn't let you come to him. Well, let's see until when can he keep you with him?

( 𝑭𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 End)

He hates how good things have such a short life span.

But then, he has never faced death. Not when he is an immortal being, one that cannot die no matter what.

It's hard to think of a life that finishes quickly. What scares him the most, is you, his mate who also happens to be a human.

A stubborn one at that.

He knows your Grandpa is in a legal battle with Jungkook's Father. One that he is not even interested to know about, cause well it wasn't like he would have helped that man. Not only he despises him for his inferior acts but also the way he hates anyone that isn't of their species. It's ironic for him to be suddenly interested in them.

All Jin knows is protecting you, even if it means going against the whole community who would rather see them mateless than with a human.

Which was cruel on their part, but oh well their ancient traditions were nowhere to change. Not until the old vampires give up their position to the young budding vamps awaiting for a significant change into the vampire world.

"My Lord," Lilian greets him, head tucked down as she bows deeply.

He hums, eyes steering across the windows, past the cloud that create a darkness he is familiar too. It was still preety much evening yet sensing the atmosphere, anyone could take it as a night.

Lilian hesitates, "Earlier, Lady Y/N stormed outside. And it's raining, so I thought it would-

She didn't even get to complete her sentence, before Jin is out of there.

Footsteps hurrying to go out and see his mate.

Outside the rain seemed to came as a much needed release for your thoughts. Wherein the earlier conversation with Yoongi presses the edges of your heart with needles pricking the moment you draw in a breath of air. Standing in the middle of the garden, you look back at the mansion. Lightning strikes as for a moment the place glows, as if it were morning but it passes as soon as it comes.

You sigh, letting your palm stretch across you. The heavy drops of rain hitting your skin, even as your tears led them down.

If anyone would ask, what were you thinking? You would have answered, nothing cause literally nothing was working inside your head. No thoughts, no opinions. You felt blank, even as your eyes shed tears as if it were their last day.

Maybe. Maybe you don't deserve love or maybe your doomed from the start. Maybe your father is right or maybe you are wrong all along. Maybe you marrying the guy of your father's choice was the best or maybe waiting for your soulmate was your luck. Out of this countless maybe's, all that can emerge now is hurt.

You gasps, as your throat opens up for the breath you refuse to in-take.

Holding your tears, you only make your throat tighten. A burning pain arising from it, as a protest to your self-harm.

The darkness around doesn't scare you as much, letting your head rest against the tree. You stare across the sky, as if trying to decipher beyond this clouds that seem familiar to your own mind.

"My Love," A gruff voice hauls your attention towards Jimin who strides right into your personal space.

Narrowing your eyes at his bold words and even bold smirk, you sigh. Not replying to him, your thoughts were already too heavy to take and the last thing you wanted was this.

Another addition.

Jimin clicks his tongue in disapproval, fingertips glazing over your damp hair. Swirling it, he hums as if approving your state while behind him. The lightning strikes again, rolling over the heavens and bombarding the sky with an afterglow. "This time, you shall choose me for the date."

You roll your eyes, done with that way he follows your eyes. Attention down at your lips, even as he makes you stiffen for a second. What is his problem?

"I don't think, you will take me anywhere but your bed as a date." You raise an eyebrow as he laughs, the narrow teeths on the front taunting you like no other.

That's sharp, if he bites you. Your done.

Jimin slides down beside you, "Won't you enjoy it, I will be better than your ex-boyfriend."

You froze. Uh huh. If only he knew how much of a damn virgin you are. Heck if they all saw the girl that lays behind the facade of cold. They would be surprised, won't they? You were a bit grateful for Hoseok to not come in for a kiss, for dodging one time had cracked your facade a little.

If it happened again, you might have ran. Soulmate or not, your scared of this. But for Jimin, you sure as heck know that guy has balls of steel.

He won't back away until he proved just how much of a good fuck he can be.

Of course your made-in boyfriend cannot do anything now can he?

"Not happening," You cross your arms, even as Jimin chuckles.

One that had you shiver, "We will see."

You laugh, not understanding what is he trying to do? Intimidate you or scare you for life.

Before you could stand, Jimin traps you in-between the tree and himself. Damn his vampire speed that had your heart leap into your throat. The action taking you off-guard even as you press your hands across his chest for some space which was refused with the way his breath fanned your lips.

And for a second, you forgot to breathe.

You will go cross-eyed with how close he is to you. "Kitten, fantasizing about Ankit as your man isn't very nice." His cold fingers brush against your cheek, inching across the expanse of your lips that quivered ever so slightly.

You sigh. Not knowing what to say.

Behind the clouds rumble, as if warning about the rain that intensifies. Even as large droplets fled down from the leaves, and just like that your hands brushed against Jimin's face. The action having caught him off guard, the blank look of your eyes not giving away anything to the question.

You allow your fingers to tap against his cheeks, "What a curse to have?" As you question yourself more than him, unable to read this creature of the night who stirs your heart. Unreliable and so so far.

Jimin hums, "If it brings you to me, then I would gladly have it a thousand times." His dark onyx pin you down, as your brain stutters at his choice of words.

Your hands drop, even as goosebumps arise. The sound of the wind rustling being loud enough to weigh your heart that beats at a fast rhythm. What a way with words?

"Now tell me, why did you think crying in rain was a good idea?" Jimin questions, as you shrug. Not in mood to explain your gloomy mood but at the same time, your mind comes up with an apt reply.

"Rain brings me comfort," You cross your arms, but in a flash. A figure towers you both as Jin brings an umbrella for you. Successfully blocking the raindrops.

"Do you two want to be sick or what. It's raining outside, half of the world is deprived of electricity and here you two are." The way jin scolds had your eyes pop out of your socket.

How can he speak without taking a break?

What is he, your Ma?

Jimin rolls his eyes, looking at you with an apologetic look. "Ignore him, he is like that only."

"Yah, I am your elder. What did you just say," Jin pulls his ear, earning a Yelp and a giggle from you.

What a day!

Next day, your up late.

After Jin had scolded your behaviour, you were quickly taken into your room. A warm bath was prepared, and despite your protests you had to take all their gifts. Jin had brought a cake for dessert while Namjoon had quietly slipped a book in your bed with some more book recommendations. Taehyung brought you a painting while Jimin got you a ring.

It was Hoseok who gave you a parting kiss, one that had the others seethe while you were too shocked to react, much less get him back for that.

It was as if all were collectively trying to win your heart, or in simple words. Court you.

But still somewhere you were waiting for Yoongi or even Jungkook to show up.

Guess what, they didn't and now you think instead of mending your bond. You had further broken it down.

'What if Vampire has a human Soulmate'

Your laptop screen was filled with many theories. Whole night you had went through various scenarios, none making sense but yeah if something did make sense then it was your fear of mate bond. You had still covered your mark with makeup. You seriously are not frowning over your destiny. It's not like you control it, so by now, all you think and probably fear is about the vampire community.

The age old vampires who worship the devil himself, the ones who think they are superior ones. And so a human being connected to a purebred vampire threatens the base and it wasn't like the news has never covered issues regarding the dark side of the vampires. It was not for the faint heart.

For once, they could ignore a normal vampire but what about your mates?

If Hoseok's theory of tasting human food with your arrival is true than isn't that an answer to your most dreaded questions.

The community will be out for your blood, literally.

A knock startles you as you rush to close the laptop, not before clearing the history.

"Yes," You reply, as the door opens with Jin who struts inside.

Accompanied by a tray of breakfast. Its smell immediately had your stomach tighten in anticipation. "Good Morning," Jin cooes at you as if you were some child of his.

"Morning," You reply, not wishing to drop his happy mood. Which is opposite of yours, totally.

For a split second, you could sense his gaze rake over your body. Zeroing right at your exposed legs, but he is quick to look up and smile. "I brought breakfast for you, I hope you enjoy it."

You hum, looking over the plate of tea and biscuits as he keeps it on the table. "Your Grandpa send your study materials and some clothes over. I asked him about your daily routine and he said, you like to start your day with some tea."

"Uh huh," You process his words, frowning when he mentions your Grandpa.

As Jin stands there watching you have tea, your suddenly awkward. Having someone stare at you was definitely not something you admired. And so you were bound to trip and you did.

"Ouch," You hissed, as the tea burned the tip of your tongue while you hurriedly gulped it down.

Jin panics, "Oh my god, why did you drink it so fast. It was hot, oh my god."

While 'it's because of you, you fool' rang like a mantra inside your mind.

In your haste to act as poised as you could, you didn't even register how hot the tea was. You shall reward yourself for such an ungraceful failure. Embarassment being your family by now.

"It's Nothing," You wave his concern off as beep sound come off your phone.

The name of your mother taking all of your attention from Jin who was seconds away from holding your chin and inspect the burn.

Picking up the call, you smile. "Hello Ma, how are you?"

"If you don't come back, I am storming inside your college and dragging you to this marriage." It's not your mother but father replying.

Your shoulder stiffens at the threatening tone, as anxiety drops your heart. Taking it to a drive of all the negative possibilities. "I told you, my degree is still-

Your cut off rudely by your dad, who now fumes at you with utter rage dripping down his tone, "Well, you can study after marriage too. Do you even know how good marriage proposals are hard to come by these days? I am paying so much dowry for your secure future and here your ruining all my chances. That guy is in foreign services and you have no right to say no, I have already accepted the proposal. Our reputation is on line, don't ruin this."

Your throat tightens, eyes stinging as you try hard so that your cold facade do not slip away. But it was getting difficult, how could he give you away without even asking your permission?

How can he care for you in such a cruel way?

You clear your throat, "I am not coming,"

"Then you can say goodbye to your family here." His next words made your heart stop beating for a second there, a tear slipping as you register the weight of his words.

"I will keep your last rites, so you need not come for that. It isn't like a corpse can attend its own funeral."

Unbeknownst to you, Jin's eyes had turned red the moment he heard your father's voice. Expression so dark that it would seep into the bones of its enemies, killing them with a glance. His vampire was clawing, as if asking to be released.

His mind was silent, a storm brewing and creeping up slowly and stealthily.

Snatching the phone from your hands, he speaks. "Oh well, let's see how will you do that in front of me."

Your eyes widened as you screeched in retaliation but one look from Jin and you stopped.

His hardened gaze had you stumble back in fear. Without waiting for your dad's reply, he cuts the call. While you stand there, with your breath caught in your throat. Will he drink your blood? His eyes are red, so red that it makes you remind of the colour your blood will have. You stumble back, trying to make as much as distance as you could.

But Jin was not having it, the moment you took a step back. He has launched himself at you, his vampire senses craving your touch, the smell of your blood and your body. Pulling you against his chest, as his nose finds your throat. Taking a long whiff, he hums. His mind turning hazy, ears picking up the sudden spike in your heartbeat. The way your blood rushed against your veins was heavenly.

He could only imagine how sweet you will taste.

"Jin-n", You gasped, your fingers tightening against his arms. Nails digging into him, but it was as if nothing seemed to work.

He hums, fingers brushing against your naked thigh. As you tried to flinch away, he pushes you on the table. Your silk gown hiking up, almost exposing your undies that had you burn in shame. "Let go." Your breathing is slow, your heart unable to take this intensity.

Your skin felt hot, it felt so wrong.

"Darling," Jin purrs, but as you try to close your legs. He growls, tching at your behaviour as his knees quickly press between your thighs.

And suddenly your all too aware of how close he is to your very virgin cunt. Oh no.

His fingers tap on your skin, hot breath fanning your lips. "Your mine"

And the way your heart dropped at his voice laced in possessiveness was anything but graceful. Completely unexpected and uncalled for.

When you didn't reply, he hiked you up. Your legs dangling as your clothed cunt brushed against his knees. The friction making you squirm at the foreign feeling. Jin smirked at your lost look, "I see, we have a little liar in here."

He could tell your a virgin by the way you writhe by something as simple as this.

Oh how will he enjoy unraveling you, making you beg underneath him as you went to explore a side of yours that only he would have access to.

Your lips trembled, his vampire strength having you completely at his mercy. "I am no—

You don't even get to finish before he is moving your hips, slowly. Your breath hitching as your clit twitched at the delicious feeling your unaware of. Biting your lip, you make sure to not let any more noise escape.

Jin cooes at you, "Tell me, am I?"

You don't reply, mind hazy as your attention is caught by his gaze that attracts you like a moth to a fire.

"No man can have you, except me. Except us," He grazes your lips, as your stomach tightens at his words.

Jin smiles, as the smell of your arousal makes his eyes darken at the thought of it.

Just then, the door opens as Taehyung strides in. "Hey, Y/N are you- As he takes a whiff of your arousal, his eyes flicks towards your thighs and the very obvious position you two are in. Jin backs away, giving you space as you quickly pull your dress down. Your face burning down in shame.

Not waiting for any more embarassing moment, you head straight to the bathe.

Away from their hungry eyes that eye you as if you were a possession they would never forego of.

#bts jin #bts smut #jin x reader #jhope x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x oc #namjoon x you #jimin x you #yoongi x you #vampire bts #fantasy #fanfiction #love story #bloodbath #poly bts #horror #thriller

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flowerwrites06 · 11 months

Text

lion and the fox V — jjk

Plot: In a turbulent world of crime and intrigue, a fiery journalist makes an unlikely alliance with one of the country’s most notorious bosses.

Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Jungkook x Journalist!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k+

Genre: Mafia AU | Vintage (1940′s vibes) AU

Tags & Warnings: crime, violence, sexual content, forced prostitution, mild scenes of harassment, some misogynistic behaviour, mentions of war, heavy mentions of drug use, infidelity.

Authors Note: oh boy it’s been a while, folks hahah I have been buried in some other stuff for a WHILE. I still can’t promise anything for regular updates but I am trying my best and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: Please note that while some historical research has been done for this story, the MAJORITY of it has been altered in some way with creative liberties to match the themes and motifs of the plot.

June 14th 1936

Jungkook and Gaia sat on their marital bed, covered by transparent curtains that was scented with violet powder. It was thick in Jungkook’s throat. He preferred warmer and deep smells that went through him smoothly. Gaia wore a thin nightgown and played with her fingers.

They weren’t expected to do anything with their young age but there was a still a level of awkwardness. A sort of existential moment, realizing that they were now married. The same kind of married their parents were. Granted, their parents’ marriages also weren’t the same kind of married as other people. Normal people who didn’t have an heir to make.

“It’s kind of relieving in a way,” said Gaia, breaking their silence.

“How do you mean?”

“I don’t have to work to find someone now. I just have you.” She stared up at him with her bright, almost transparent green eyes.

Jungkook smiled, his cheeks still puffy and shining. “I guess that’s comforting.” With that, he had relaxed into the headboard and the new chapter of his life.

Present Day

The quiet sunset painted the Jeon-Takahashi household in a gentle gold. During this time, Gaia was in one of the private rooms, wearing her finest silk nightgowns and drinking her favourite whiskey. Her hair wasn’t curled and her eyes looked less like a gem, more like the venom of a serpent.

Gaia would never call Jungkook into this private room and rarely during this hour. The sleeve of her robe and nightdress fell over her shoulder.

Jungkook wore the same shirt he did for work, rolled up to his elbows. He closed the door behind him. “This is most unusual.”

Gaia narrowed her gaze but gave a faint smile. “I just wanted to see you.” Her voice was low. “I had this strong feeling that you might miss me.”

Jungkook chuckled, digging his hands into his pants. “Are you sure you don’t want a favor?”

“Can’t a wife just try to spend some time with her husband? A little closeness in the hours of a pretty sunset?” Gaia sauntered over Jungkook and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing her nose against his. “Kiss me.”

Jungkook blinked in slight confusion but abided regardless, kissing her softly.

“Do you remember the night we married? Little, fat children placed on the altar.” Gaia held onto his hand and led him over to the table, an array of crystal decanters filled with variations of liquid gold. “We were lucky to have each other. Our marriage turned out more stable than others, considering the circumstances.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure how to respond. He could only stand there stupidly as Gaia sat on the table, pulling him closer so he was perched between her legs.

“You agree, don’t you?” Gaia stared at him with glazed eyes, reaching down to cup his bulge. “That we’re a stable marriage.”

“Of course,” Jungkook whispered it so easily.

Gaia scoffed as she squeezed. Squeezed until it became painful. “Then why…why did you send a spy to watch me?” She unlatched her hand as Jungkook let out a pained breath. Gaia expected him to have a shocked reaction, to defend himself. To do something that stupid people did. Break, crack, something. Anything.

Jungkook did none of that. There was a knowing behind his soft eyes. Desperation to hesitate. “Your lover. We found something on him.”

Jungkook explained it to her.

He spoke his name. Jimin’s name, resounded in the walls of her reality.

The walls of the home her parents made them build.

Jimin was no longer in the bubble Gaia created, no longer the symbol of her freedom. A veil ripped from her eyes.

Tears formed thick. Ugly and naïve. “You’re lying.” Gaia shook her head. “I would know. I would know! I’m not stupid!” She shrieked, gripping onto the first decanter and throwing it across the room, just missing Jungkook’s head.

The thick glass crashed against the wooden walls, darkening it with the new glisten to liquid. “You’re the one who sent the spy on me, how do I know you’re not lying?”

“I didn’t believe it either, okay? It’s not like I had big plans on ruining your affair.” Jungkook gestured to the window. “It was a serious breach on the empire with our rival no less.”

Gaia wanted to argue but even she knew there would still be a risk. A risk for a spy because of course there would be. The only person who wasn’t intimidated enough of her turned out to someone who was extracting information from her. Oh, and the things she told him in the heat of the moment. In the comfortable bubble that she thought she could trust because it was under her control. “I hate you,” she muttered.

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, not from sadness or shock but a melancholic understanding. This marriage was a mess and it was here, splayed between them in ripped veils, tears and alcohol seeping into the wooden floors. “I have the files for proof—” Another decanter flew near his face, smashing against the door.

“Fuck your proof!” Gaia’s chest rose and fell. “I don’t want any proof. It doesn’t matter, just kill him.” She turned on her heel, desperately swallowing the bitter bile on her tongue. “He’s just one more body in the rivers. You’re good at that, aren’t you, boss?”

Jungkook tried to reach out to touch her shoulder but feared that it may lead to another decanter thrown his way. With a defeated pull in his belly, he curled his fingers into fists and walked out of the room.

Gaia couldn’t do anything but tremble in the coming sobs, scratching deep into the wood of the table before gripping onto the edge and throwing it over. Screams scarred her throat.

“In most cases, lovers aren’t suspected,” said Jimin. A part of his composure had broken. Birds blowing their covers was akin to losing a wing. “I don’t even know how I became a connection, Master.” He shook his head.

Peace and Honey was a much better establishment when reporting. Instead, in an emergency situation, Jimin had to stand in the dead center of Master Seokjin’s penthouse apartment in Busan. The cold gust of the air conditioner was rough on his skin but Seokjin seemed to drink it in like summer sun with his loose silk robe.

Seokjin’s face was painfully neutral, too calm for Jimin’s comfort.

From his training days, Jimin had prepared himself for death upon mistakes. If his cover was blown, there was no one to blame but him. It had to be. He just wished the death would be quick.

“This will be a shock to our plans,” said Seokjin. Still holding that terrible neutrality. “But Akira has received her web on Saja Ilbo. The best thing we can do now is spread the word of your exposure to the underground.”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “What?”

Seokjin then smiled and Jimin wanted nothing but to melt into it. A comforting father’s smile, protecting him from judgement. “If we send your cover blown through the underground letters, Akira will thicken it up so it can’t be traced back to Holangi Pa. Even if it does, we have another target. I fear this new mind behind Yeou Pa is out to scare us off but we are an elegant bunch. We’ll keep to our silence and continue on.” Seokjin persisted with his smile. “Enjoy your new vacation, little bird.”

Belle’s thigh kept prickling again, yearning for another dose of the painkillers but pushing it down with other thoughts. Reading a book, writing more notes and speculations on the investigation. Anything to keep her mind off it. It had only been an hour since Hoseok had given her a dose. That was enough. The thigh had numbed, it was just her imagination. Her mind tricking her into falling in that hole once more.

She sat on her living room, scratching at her fluffy mat, too on edge to sit on the couch. One knee curled up to her chest while the other injured one was left down. Belle wore her favourite cotton attire too as the night was hotter than usual. Or it was just her.

Either way, Belle stared back at her open book. The words nothing but a jumble in her clouded mind.

A knock resounded in the door, heavy handed and rough.

Belle paused for a moment before standing up, she grabbed onto one of the steel rods near the fireplace. Hoseok wouldn’t have knocked on her door and neither of them had friends that would come this late at night. It didn’t help that they were in the midst of a tension between two very dangerous syndicates.

She padded to the door and opened the slit until the chain forced it to halt. Her heart jumped and relaxed when Belle saw Jungkook’s face. Sad and weary. His black hair was matted and messy, his lips red and glossed much like his eyes. Two crystal glasses and fine whiskey was haphazardly held in his hand.

“I’m not sure if you drink but—” Jungkook hiccupped.

Belle quickly opened the door, pulling him inside and looking out into the streets to check if anyone saw them. His black car was parked outside with three bodyguards who were barely wearing their uniform suits. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here?”

Jungkook hummed, stumbling across the hallway and just closely tripping onto her kitchen counter. He placed the two crystal glasses and bottle of whiskey. “Didn’t want to be at the house.” His gaze flickered to her, eyes glossing up and down her body. “Were you sleeping?” His shirt was buttoned down to his torso and his tie still dangled around his neck helplessly.

“No, I was just—reading.”

Jungkook hummed as he set the two glasses and poured whiskey right up to the brim, spilling some on the surface. “I told Gaia everything. She took it—” He jutted his lips out before chugging half of the glass of the whiskey. “—the way she takes most things.”

“She deserved the truth.”

Jungkook scoffed. “We rarely tell each other the truth.”

“Yes, but this involves your gangs. Your business.”

“I thought you hated my business. Suddenly, you’re all arms in helping and defending it?” Jungkook raised a brow.

“You’re in my house, you don’t get to question me like some big boss.” Belle stomped over and grabbed onto his glass and whiskey bottle. “This house isn’t a bar either.”

“That’s really expensive.”

“Really?” Belle stared at the bottle. “I wonder how many people died frothing at the mouth just so you could get the money for this.” Was it the same money his father got when those soldiers were drugged? She stared at him, hazel eyes darkened to a deep brown.

“I’m warning you, that stuff costs more than your house.”

“Drunk Jungkook comes out with bitter truths, doesn’t he?” Belle opened the bottle of whiskey and poured it down the sink. Her cheap sink.

Jungkook’s eyes flared with frustration as he stomped over to her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Don’t insult my house again.” Her only place of comfort. Where she didn’t have to work or keep a shielded knowingness. Where she could feel the unbearable itch of her thigh without needing to look decent and strong. It angered her to see him in this very place. “Unlike your material things, my house was bought with honest-earned money and love.”

“Oh, you think your money is honest-earned?” Jungkook laughed. “Said the reporter who’s currently milking a criminal gang for her own gain.”

Belle slammed the empty bottle against his chest and walked to the counter, wiping the spill, wincing at the scent of alcohol. “If you don’t want me milking your gang then take your fucking typewriter…but I’m not your subordinate nor will I be treated like one. Others might bow down at your visits but I’d rather die than have you think, even for a second, that I’ve pledged some allegiance to you.” She could taste the venom on her own tongue. To some extent, Belle wasn’t so angry at his behaviour but moreso that she didn’t mind it that much. Except he didn’t need to know that.

Jungkook blinked into a quiet realization. “You think that’s why I’m here?”

“This is my life…outside.” The words came out far too vulnerable for her liking. “Outside of everything. You can’t come barging to my neighborhood.” Belle gripped the edge of the counter. “It messes things.”

Jungkook stepped forward. “I just—I wanted to see you. Listen, I don’t want you to be a subordinate, it’s the only reason I came to you.” He touched her shoulder before pulling away. “You’re not part of the gang…and I like that. I like—you.”

Belle hated feeling something other than anger. A strong, warm feeling in her stomach hearing those words.

“Please don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry I came like this, I wanted—I wanted to come sober.” The more Jungkook grew desperate to explain, the more slurred his speech became. He stared down at his shoes and began to push them out, kicking them gently aside. Before that, he rubbed his face in frustration. “I don’t know what to do, Belle. I thought I’d be prepared for this.”

Belle watched his helpless face, not looking like the boss of Yeou Pa but a simple young man who was lost and drowning in his troubles. Her thigh prickled again. When Belle tried to resist comforting Jungkook any further, the pain increased. All her energy was being used pushing herself away from this man. Not falling into the same pool he was drowning in. Jungkook had his soft spots but this was too intimate.

Despite all this, Belle couldn’t help but reach out and touch his hand. She saw his glossed eyes, brown and sweet, stare up at her. “You pretend as if you’re the only one who’s shouldering this. You have a whole operation with you. And I’m not letting someone like Seokjin get away with what he’s done.”

Regardless of what Seokjin’s intentions were, he put real people in real danger. Horrible, irreparable danger. Children who couldn’t be traced back to their parents anymore, innocent people who were left to be used just so Seokjin could tarnish Jungkook’s name. Belle would see him destroyed.

Jungkook’s eyes glazed over her face, down to her lips. He leaned in, gentle and waiting for Belle to back away before he moved any further.

Belle grabbed onto his chin. “Don’t guilt-trip me into comforting you again. If you want to kiss and fuck me, you’ll do it sober. I don’t want a sad man’s pity cum inside me.” She let go of him and padded over to the couch.

“You’re whiplash in a woman’s body, you know that?” Jungkook raised a brow.

“That’s the goal.” Belle draped some blankets on the surface of the couch, stacked pillows on the side. “Sleep here. We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

Jungkook sighed. “Fine.” He dragged his socked feet and slumped onto the couch, waiting a few minutes before lifting his legs, which barely hung over the edge. “This is too small.”

“There’s worse places to fall asleep.” Belle placed a blanket over him, desperately trying not to do it too affectionately.

“How could you let this happen?!” Don Takahashi, Gaia’s father, had stomped his fat body to the Jeon-Takahashi household in order to scold Gaia on her blunder.

Gaia had already a few drinks in her, making conversations with Father a little easier to bear. They sat in the living room where the fireplace roared to prepare for the chilly winter days and nights. “It was inevitable.”

“No, it was your own stupidity.” He pointed a stumpy finger her way, his dumb face reddened from fury. “Trying to play harem in this important political marriage.”

“You’ve had mistresses, Father, let’s not play morality here.”

Takahashi spluttered. “I did no such thing, I loved your mother.”

“Perhaps. But that didn’t stop you from fucking her friends, or her sisters, or her maids, or anyone you could see walking and talking.”

“You—”

“What? Didn’t think I noticed all that?” Gaia tilted his head. “You don’t get to teach or lecture me of the mistakes made here.”

Takahashi let out a shaking breath. “Even so, you fornicated with a spy. That I was never guilty of.”

“Well done.” Gaia laughed. “Would you like a biscuit for your efforts?”

“That underboss wants me to have a meeting with Jeon. I’ll be damned to bear the humiliation you gave me but I can’t back down either.” Takahashi played with his wedding ring. “You will come back home and hide out until everything blows over.”

Gaia didn’t disagree. She never felt like this was her home anyway. Nor was her childhood home any better but it was a change of scenery. There was a part of her, drowning in alcohol, that wanted to cry. But she wouldn’t do it in front of Father. “You began this.” Gaia narrowed her gaze. “Remember that.”

“I didn’t ask you to cheat on your husband.”

“But you gave me one against my will. I was fifteen, younger than you and Mother when you married. Even younger than Grandmother and Grandfather. You have no right to shame me for what I did to make that bearable.” Her eyes were dry, steamed away from old anger that was long dormant. Jimin was one of the few people who kept it calm and now he was gone.

All she had left was this unchecked fury.

The meeting between Hebi and Yeou Pa began in morning. Underground at a local bar where the noise was minimal. It smelled of old wine and aging wood.

Jungkook sat at the table, his back aching from the precarious location of his slumber but his stomach was warm. He slept well somehow and hearing Belle’s quiet preparations for the morning brought a strange elation in his body, boosting his energy for the day.

Don Takahashi sat with the haughtiest of expressions. As if he sniffed something particularly acrid and his face grew stuck that way.

The man was ready for a fight. That wasn’t good.

“Let’s get this over with quickly, Jeon,” Takahashi said.

“With pleasure,” Jungkook replied curtly.

Yoongi let out a sigh, giving a small glance to Rosyne who had her files and contracts ready if things did go well. “Keep it civil.” His tone firm. “Remember, we’ve both been breached.”

Takahashi stayed silent at this.

“Underground letters are circulating already about the spy,” Rosyne explained. “As far as we know, he’s in hiding. Likely the letters were made to clutter up tracking. Unfortunately, Seokjin isn’t stupid and he may well keep it very low and quiet for a few weeks.”

“It’ll be good for us to regroup and figure out how to best protect ourselves,” Yoongi said.

“Perhaps if Don Jeon had kept my daughter happy enough.” Takahashi scoffed. “I should’ve expected people like you wouldn’t be able to handle a Japanese wife. Let alone an heiress.”

Jungkook narrowed his gaze, jaw tightened.

“Civil, Don Takahashi,” Yoongi emphasized.

“You know I’m right. This affair must’ve began because you pulled something.” Takahashi tapped the surface of the table.

“Our marriage was your decision, not ours.” Jungkook shook his head. “The repercussions of that forced decision is on no one’s shoulders but yours and my parents.”

“I married for an alliance. Your parents married for an alliance. It is the way for our syndicates to do this, to ensure peace!” Takahashi looked tight and red. “You can’t go around complaining about love and not enough affection. Now your gang will be in ruin.” He pointed his fat finger at Jungkook. “And that girl of yours.”

Dark and rotten anger peered through Jungkook, so thick that it turned bitter on his tongue. “Excuse me?”

Victory glimmered in Takahashi’s eyes as he gave a slimy smile. “We’ve heard about her. The journalist pet you’ve been keeping. I better hope you haven’t given up this marriage to covet her.”

“The journalist isn’t a spy,” Rosyne said.

“She might as well be. Her family’s not from this country. A gang from somewhere else.”

Jungkook knew that he didn’t know a lot about Belle but he also knew Belle never wanted to get into his good graces. It was him who allowed her into his home. Cracked his skin and ripped it open for her to see. And yet Jungkook barely knew anything about her. He couldn’t show that to Takahashi though. “We know her background and that’s not our concern here.” A half lie but enough to shut him up.

“No, it isn’t. Because if this marriage is to be broken then it’s only you who will suffer the brunt, not my gang.” Takahashi smirked. “This alliance was more a favor than anything else. And I’m willing to be kind and reconsider any divorce.”

“But?” Jungkook asked.

“Get rid of the whore and we can call it an even scandal.”

Oh, Jungkook hadn’t felt anger like this in a long time. A truly long time. His vision blurred, wishing to see nothing but Takahashi’s soft face ripping under his knuckles. “While it may seem like we’re a smaller bunch compared to the grand Hebi Pa, I’d reconsider this self-righteousness, Takahashi.” It took everything in his power not to sputter out those words in growls and grunts but he was no animal. Takahashi always saw him as one but he would not be proven right. Ever.

“Yeou Pa has grown in the past few years and frankly, your syndicate seems to have become more of a nuisance than a help.” He leaned in. Eyes burning with fury but also a sense of adrenaline. Perhaps Seokjin got one thing right. Some of these gangs need to be taken down a peg.

Takahashi’s lips twitched. “You’d be making a big mistake.”

“You’ve already made it,” Jungkook said as he stood to his feet. “We’ll sign the divorce papers at my estate.”

Afternoon bloomed in his estate. Hebi Pa’s roaches scattered the entrance but not the perimeter. It was all Jungkook’s people now. People he had carefully built to outmatch Hebi Pa. Yet his confidence wouldn’t last long when he saw Gaia.

They were in his office. The divorce papers rested on a small table. A breakfast table they once sat together at. It wasn’t the most fond of memories but more comfortable. An emptiness that will now be long gone.

Gaia wore a yellow dress fit to the sleeves and a white hat. Gloves on. Shielded.

Rosyne hired a lawyer to confirm the dealings. Gaia was to go back to her home and wished not to take any money from Jungkook despite Takahashi’s insistence that they take something.

Gaia had no intentions to take revenge on Jungkook.

The lawyer shifted the paper to him. Gaia’s signature already etched there. His heart didn’t twist nor did his stomach sink. But still that emptiness overwhelmed him. Something Jungkook had leaned on for years. He hesitated for a moment only. Then signed.

“It’s done, sir,” the lawyer said. “I wish you both good luck.”

As the lawyer left, Rosyne emptied the room of people and closed the doors behind them. Without a word, she knew what needed to be done. Not needed rather wanted. A bow to tie off this thing they had.

“You know I wouldn’t risk it like that,” Gaia said. Business talk first.

“I know.”

“Good. Cause my father doesn’t believe me. He thinks it was a tantrum for being married to you.” Hatred dripped from her tone. “I never hated being married to you.” Still firm and formal but soft. Soft like their mornings.

“Neither did I.” A truth of some kind. Perhaps one that was carefully constructed from their routines but Jungkook resorted to believing it regardless.

“But.”

“But?”

“That isn’t quite enough, is it? Marriage needs a little more than convenience. Whether we like it or not.” For just a split second, Jungkook caught the lull of sadness behind Gaia’s gaze. Whatever this affair with Jimin was, it wasn’t small and it wasn’t just for enjoyment necessarily. Jungkook could see that truth bleed even when Gaia seemed to shut it tight like a holed bandage.

“Sincerely, I hope you find one like that.” Jungkook’s voice couldn’t go any higher. It didn’t want to. “Even if it sounds impossible with all this.”

Gaia gave a flicker of a smile. Sad but a true one, not calculated. “Thank you. I hope you find it too.”

With that, it was done. Jungkook and Gaia were free and unsettled.

Evening arrived in dark blooms of blue and black. Jungkook reclused himself in his office, burying himself in papers of regular work. Nothing to do with Seokjin or this mess of an operation. It kept him distracted well enough to gain some courage.

The door clicked open to Belle. She still wore her work dress, pale blue and prim. Fingers intertwined in front of her. “You wanted to see me?”

Jungkook hesitated on the question for a moment. He’d never admit it to Takahashi but part of him was right. He had to be sure. “I want to learn about your history.”

Something flickered in her. “What?”

He had touched a nerve but it wasn’t the quivering fear of a spy’s cover blown. No, it was much worse and Jungkook felt it looming like a dark cloud. Keep going. “It seems the Hebi Pa boss Takahashi believes you’re my lover and he might have some dirt on you. So it’s best you tell me before he uses it against us.” Jungkook kept a formal tone to all his ability despite his stomach wrenching at how Belle’s expression darkened.

“Takahashi wouldn’t know anything about me, he was just trying to scare you.” Belle’s voice turned firm but soft. Eerily soft.

“Humour me.”

Belle scoffed. “First you enter my house and now an interrogation?”

Jungkook tightened his jaw, forced himself not to twitch. “Just answer the question.”

She raised her chin. “You already know about my drug addiction. I’ve slept with married men, been beaten up by their wives. Been in the hospital. . .and the sanitarium for my condition.”

“Were you purchasing our products?” he asked.

“No.” Frustration flickered across her expression again.

“What about further?”

“Further.” Belle raised a brow.

“Your parents, anything that could be taken as dirt.”

Parents. That was it. That was the word that turn her eyes to flame. Jungkook felt the room burn. “You really want to know what happened to my parents?”

Jungkook shifted, struggling to keep her gaze. “Yes.”

“Seokjin and I have a loss in common. Your father ordered pills to be stuffed down my father’s throat so he’d be a better soldier.” Belle looked like a stranger once more as she spoke. “By the time the war was over, he still kept thinking that he had to fight. He couldn’t recognize me or my mother.” He saw her picking at the skin of her palm. “Out of desperation, he went back to you and your gang for more of the pills. When he claimed he didn’t have any money—” she let out a shaky sigh. “—your father’s men beat him.”

Jungkook knew the answer was going to be bad. Knew it was going to open old, terrible wounds that his father dug. Ones that he had to bear after his death. But seeing her stare at him with such deep hatred and disgust made his heart clench. This wasn’t what he wanted.

“Is that good enough? Or do you want more?” Belle asked. Tilted her head in challenge to pry further. She forced him now to look into her eyes and see the person made from his family’s machinations. “Do you want to know that my mother hasn’t left her chair for years? That my grandmother has to pry open her jaw to feed her.”

“Belle—”

“That I’ve had to smile and listen to reprehensible people gush about how much money they made from the widowed and orphaned of the war. Just to get information so one, at least one of them, could escape.” Belle pursed her shaking lips together and took a deep breath.

Jungkook reached out, thumb just barely brushed against her cheek before Belle pushed him away rough enough for him to knock at the edge of the table. His pens crashed to the floor. A ghostly bruised pain on his chest.

Belle stared at him, a raw and broken anger as she began to heave. Tears thick in her eyes but they evaporated and burned. “I’m not here to be your friend. I hate everything you do, everything you remind and represent.” She seethed. “I’m only here because this is the best way to protect as many people from Seokjin and you have no choice but to use my information.”

Jungkook wished it wasn’t the only reason but she was hardened. Whatever softness created between them was burning and pained. “I wish I wasn’t his son.”

“What?” Belle whispered.

“Sometimes, I wish I wasn’t his son.” A raw truth for her raw anger. “Perhaps not sometimes but always. I don’t like this life, Belle. I find no pleasure in it.”

Belle scoffed, disbelieving.

“You don’t have to believe me. But if you can help me take down Seokjin then maybe—” More truths. Belle had to rip her own skin to him, expose every detail. Perhaps Jungkook could do the same. “—we could burn Yeou Pa with it.”

Belle’s brows furrowed. The room stopped burning, just for a moment, for her to think. “Burn Yeou Pa?”

“Not all of it.” Jungkook shook his head. “But enough.”

“What the hell are you on about?”

“I will not ask you to be my friend or my allegiant. I’m simply asking for your help. As an equal.” Jungkook held out his hand. “Help me. And I will get you your promise of destruction.”

Belle still looked suspicious but there was a thoughtfulness behind her gaze. “If this is a trick—”

“—you can freely stab me in the throat.” It was terrifying how easy it was to make that a promise. How Jungkook wasn’t even the slightest bit fearful of it.

Blinking slowly, she stared down at his hand. Paused. Then held onto it. “An empire for an empire.”

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andypantsx3 · 1 year

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you’re the one that i haunt | 3 | bakugou x reader

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Female Reader

length: 3,100 of est. 13,000 words | 3rd of 4 chapters

summary: Ghosts aren’t real. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when the spirit of pro hero Dynamight suddenly starts haunting your apartment.

(A Halloween adventure, in which your cooking is criticized, your showers are rudely interrupted, and you must work together with Bakugou Katsuki to figure out if his disappearance is a trick–or a treat.)

tags/warnings: romance, Halloween, snarking, (not actual) character death, aged up characters, eventual smut

chapter warning: self-harm in the form of reader fracturing her own wrist. It’s for a good cause, I swear.

Days went by, and nothing worked.

Though you’d abandoned the ghost angle, there was little more to be found on the quirk angle.

Assuming Bakugou had actually been quirked into his current spectral state, you couldn’t figure out how it had been done, nor who had done it. You had been the last victim to be saved, and by Bakugou’s own memory, there had been no one else around. Even if someone was long-range quirking the pros, there were no other suspiciously similar incidents–in fact, Bakugou was the only pro hero who had suffered a condition like this in recent memory.

It was pretty impossible to tell if it had been a quirk.

You’d resorted to visiting hero agencies–the agencies of his classmates and friends, desperate to reach any of them, to tell them what you knew about Bakugou so far. You’d been turned away by dozens of receptionists, others taking in your tip but uh-huhing in dismissive tones that told you the information would be buried in a file somewhere, never to be examined again.

With Bakugou supplying the number, you called his family house, only for a visiting relative to answer and hiss, “How dare you try to take advantage of the family at this time, you fucking absolute piece of shit,” and no matter how calm or insistent you tried to be, there was no overcoming the decisive click of the phone hanging up—or even more decisive non-answer to your successive calls.

It was gut-wrenchingly, hair-pullingly, scream-inducingly frustrating, putting in this much work and getting nowhere.

Bakugou, for his part, hid his frustration worryingly well. You knew it had to be freaking him out, the thought that he’d remain tethered to you like this forever, but all he had to show for his feelings were the regular petty annoyances–cooking critiques, research complaints, and his newfound habit of appearing places just to freak you out.

In fact, he seemed to be avoiding thinking about the longer term concerns in favor of antagonizing you.

It was like you were experiencing an actual haunting–he liked opening all your drawers to express true discontent with your cooking techniques, picking up your cosmetics when he could to scrawl threatening messages onto your bathroom mirror—you will die (of food poisoning if you keep trying to take shortcuts)—and moving too close behind you just to send chills up your spine.

The worst was when you were showering, muscles uncoiling and relaxing under the hot spray of the showerhead—only to suddenly feel someone else in the room with you, and to scream when a voice issued from the other side of the curtain, “Oi, hurry the fuck up in there.”

When you came out of the shower, wrapped in a towel, dripping in water and rage to call him out on it, he just smirked, that mouth pulling into a smug little smile. His eyes traced over the droplets of water racing down your legs, spending just a little too long picking over your collarbone, before he lifted a blonde eyebrow as if to say, what are you going to do about it?

What you did was try to buckle down on your research, digging through hundreds of pages of search results on similar quirks, news articles of every pro hero injured in the last few years, trying frantically to make some connection. You even called several quirk specialists, asking how you might go about pinpointing the specifics of an unknown quirk like this, but they had little to offer—platitudes about nondisclosure policies and referrals to local quirk diagnosis centers, as if you were the one with the unknown quirk.

For all that Bakugou was annoying you, you wanted to help him—not just to be rid of him, but because, over the last few weeks, you were sort of coming around to him.

He was a pain in the ass but he was also an interesting pain in the ass. As unwanted as his cooking tips were, they were also good, and all his advice on cooking and laundry and cleaning painted a portrait of a very conscientious, diligent man, rather unexpectedly domestic in spite of his reputation as the number two hero, a bloodthirsty pro with a mean streak a mile wide.

His sense of humor, for all that it was wicked, was kind of right up your alley too. His cutting wit, snarky repartee, and quick retorts spoke of a mind sharpened like a weapon—and you liked what that said about him too.

You liked this little window into what he was really like, behind the curtain of his own celebrity. He still drove you up a wall, but he was….undeniably appealing.

It also didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous, too, no matter what you said out loud. Even a little blurred as his outline was, he was all sharp edges, hard muscles and exactingly perfect features, like someone had drawn him with a ruler. He was unbearably bright, intense—his eyes burned right through you, at complete odds with the way his ghostly touch gave you the chills.

It made something in you ache to wonder what his real touch would feel like—if he would run hot because of his quirk, because of the hot sparks of his inner fire, apparent with every heated comment he lobbed at you like a hand grenade.

You just barely remembered the specter of his touch, when he’d saved you. The warm press of a hard body, a gloved hand at the back of your head, pressing you to him—

It all made you burn to save him the way he’d saved you.

Not that you would get to touch him again, if you did. You had little doubt that Bakugou was eager to put you and your apartment far behind him, as relatively well as the two of you were getting along these days.

He was a pro hero, with his own career and duties, and his own personal life and hobbies and friends.

The thought of him stuck like this forever, the ghostly impression of the man he’d once been–you couldn’t stand it.

And it was this thought, after weeks of frustrating dead ends, that finally led you to a wild idea.

“I think we need to get into the hospital,” you told Bakugou, one afternoon on your couch. An abandoned coffee mug sat before you on the coffee table, and Bakugou sat beside you, directing your research operations as usual. Your TV droned quietly in the background, tuned to the news channel you’d taken to keeping on in case of emergency changes to Bakugou’s condition. “There’s just no way around it. No one will listen, I can’t find anything out with civilian resources. We’ve got to try something.”

Bakugou leaned over you, in a way that prickled all the skin all over your body, as though he might actually be able to touch you—with anything more than an ice cold phantom echo of fingers.

“You can’t just get in, idiot, we already tried,” he said. “You’re gonna need a different plan.”

As if on cue, the TV coverage moved on to a story on pro hero Dynamight, the news anchor solemnly reporting that this week marked the third week since his accident, with no change in his condition. The report cut to footage of Tokyo Memorial Hospital for a brief, live interview with a short, stocky woman, a patient coordinator who reported Bakugou in stable, if still unconscious condition.

And then, over her shoulder, your eye snagged on something green, moving in the background. The background of the shot was unfocused, but you could still make out the familiar silhouette of pro hero Deku, his distinctly green hero costume and wild green curls unmistakable, as he moved through the background with a white-coated, blurry woman at his side.

Your heartbeat picked up, another insane thought occurring to you.

Deku had been there, that day, had caught both you and Bakugou with blackwhip as the two of you had tumbled out of the sky. He had been there. He had seen you—and he would maybe, just maybe recognize you.

If pro hero Deku would be there, somewhere in the ER…all you had to do was get to him.

It was a shot in the dark, but it was something.

“Oi, what’s with that look on your face,” Bakugou demanded, his own face looming far too close in your field of vision. You pressed into the couch, hyper aware of his proximity.

“I’m gonna get us into the ER,” you said, cringing when your voice came out just slightly strangled. Hopefully Bakugou would chalk it up to nerves about the plan, and nothing to do with the way his face looked, that close to your own.

“You and what quirk,” Bakugou rasped judgmentally.

You worried your bottom lip, not liking your options. “I don’t think I can get in without some actual type of issue.”

Bakguou’s brows knit, and an expression overtook his face that told you he understood where you were taking this, and not liking it one bit. “No, brat. No way.”

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “Yes way. I don’t like it either. But—it’s a hospital. They have to take care of me, after.”

Bakugou’s mouth twisted into a grim line. “You’re not doing anything, brat, this is a stupid fucking idea.”

You knew it was. But you’d exhausted your resources so far. You needed the help of an actual pro hero if you were ever going to track down someone who might have quirked the number two pro. You had to take a shot.

You left the couch and went to your bag, hanging off the hooks beside your door, rifling through it. You dug up your train card and ID and placed them in the front pocket where they could be easily accessed after you did what you had in mind. Then you put on your shoes, tying them off while you still could.

Bakugou’s voice rose into an angry shout as you returned to your laptop, quickly googling which arm bone was the most delicate before the laptop was yanked out of your hands and flung across the room with violent force.

“You’re not fucking doing it, brat,” he shouted, going to grab ahold of your shoulders. His hands went right through you with that icy shock again, and you suppressed a churning wave of nausea. A little part of you had hoped that he would be able to stop you.

You retreated to your counter, taking a big breath. “Okay, here it goes,” you said weakly, angling the fragile bones of your wrist against the counter. You felt an icy chill at your shoulder, like Bakugou was still trying to grab you.

And then you closed your eyes, lifting your arm, and with all the strength you had in you, slammed it down against the counter. A shock of bright pain licked up your arm, littering spots in your vision, and you couldn’t suppress the cry that tore from your throat.

You could tell it had broken instantly, a relief in that you wouldn’t have to do it again. But it hurt even more than you had accounted for, the pain making you a little sick and woozy.

“You fucking–!” Bakugou shouted, hands balling into fists. “Are you fucking kidding me, brat? I’ll kill you!”

You breathed through your nose, ignoring him and going over to your back, quickly shrugging it on to the opposite arm, and letting yourself out of the apartment. Bakugou had no choice but to follow you, raging loudly.

“You are so fucking in for it when I get my body back,” he promised darkly, as he followed you onto the train. You shoved in, awkwardly angling your broken wrist away from the other passengers.

The trip felt a thousand years longer than usual, and you almost missed the stop when you came to it, too focused on the nerves in your wrist.

This time, you were easily admitted into the waiting room, the receptionist leading you into a sitting area with several other people suffering their own maladies. It was thankfully a short time before you were seen, a nurse in bright blue scrubs coming out and passing a hand lightly over the skin of your wrist, some strange pink light glowing at her fingertips.

“A pretty big fracture,” she pronounced, and you realized she had to have some kind of triage quirk.

“Let’s get you into a room and get you on some painkillers. We’ve got a doctor with a healing quirk that will mend this right up,” she said, her tone gentle and kind. “She’s finishing up with another patient, it should just be a short wait.”

She led you through the doors into the hospital wing proper, walking you to a room towards the back. You peered about carefully, trying to catch sight of anything that might prove useful in your search for pro hero Deku, ignoring Bakugou at your shoulder, still grim-faced and angry. Down the hall, you spied a pair of men decked out in what were clearly hero costumes, moving through another entrance, their voices echoing down the hall.

The triage nurse set you up in a little room with a padded table and about a million medical charts on the wall, including one violently colorful pain scale, calibrating what kind of feelings would constitute horrendous pain on a one to a ten scale.

As soon as she left, you quickly went to the door, darting back out into the hallway where you’d seen the two pro heroes go. You caught sight of them just as they turned the corner into another part of the hospital, moving through the wing. As you passed, you noted that the rooms on this side of the wing all had beds with little curtain separators–the part of the hospital dedicated to longer stays.

“Incoming nurse at your four o’clock,” Bakugou muttered into your ear. You ducked into a room, and watched as a nurse in scrubs with little planets on them walked past, clutching a clipboard.

“Thanks,” you told Bakugou when she’d passed, moving back out into the hall to where the men had gone.

And then, as you neared the end of the corridor, you heard it: the murmur of several voices, all collected in the area of one room.

One of the men you’d been following called out, and a surprisingly familiar voice answered–soft but firm, with a distinct, gentle lilt in it. You instantly recognized it from dozens of interviews, press conferences, live action fight shots—

“Fucking Deku,” Bakugou growled from behind you.

“--make sense that they’re going to move in while Kacchan’s down,” Deku was saying. “It’s soon. Danger sense has been going haywire since I got here.”

You paused, and you saw Bakugou still too, out of the corner of your eye.

One of the heroes you’d followed said something mostly indistinct, and Deku answered.

“Kacchan’s family has been evacuated. Shinsou and the others are watching the entries–they’ll alert you as soon as they spot something, if you station down the other hall. I’ll be here–if anything goes wrong, we’ll have to have a plan to get Kacchan out.”

The other hero said something that you didn’t catch, too focused on the sudden, horrible prickle up your spine. It sounded like…it sounded like–

“You need to get out of here, brat,” Bakugou said, his tone suddenly the coldest you’d ever heard it. “Now.”

You turned to look at him. His gaze was the most intense you’d ever seen, his mouth a thin slash. “You heard the fucking nerd. Shit is going down soon and you need to get the fuck out of here right the hell now!” he said.

He stomped a boot, eerie in its soundless impact.

“I–yes, but–I need to talk to Deku,” you said haltingly.

“It can wait, you little idiot, get the fuck out right now!” Bakugou barked.

Part of you wanted badly to take his advice, but something in you kept your shoes pinned to the hallway tile, unmoving. You didn’t know when you’d get an opportunity like this again. And if the snatch of conversation you’d caught was right, if someone was coming for Bakugou now–if for some reason, things went wrong, and Deku was unable to protect Bakugou—

“Brat, look out–”

A sudden grip on your wrist made you scream, and you whipped around to find pro hero Deku standing in front of you, green eyes blazing. He’d grabbed the wrist you’d broken, and a hot lance of pain stabbed up your arm, all the way into your shoulder. You gritted your teeth, trying not to pull against his hold.

“I’d like to know who you are and what you’re doing here,” he said, his gentle tone suddenly flatter, darker than a moment before.

Your stomach dropped. This was not the shy, awkward number one you knew from broadcasts. This Deku looked like he meant business—real business.

“I needed to talk to you. I know what happened to Bakugou,” you said quickly. “I’m not a psycho, I’m the last person he saved in the building collapse. I heard you saved us both and I’m hoping you remember me.”

A frown pulled at Deku’s mouth, green eyes darting over you evaluatively.

Bakugou made an annoyed noise from behind you. “You can practically hear the two brain cells rubbing together,” he groused.

“I…do remember you,” Deku said slowly. “I caught you, with blackwhip…”

You nodded encouragingly. “This is going to sound insane, and I am aware that it sounds insane. And I would like some points for having the self-awareness to say that it sounds insane so you know that I would actually rather not be here saying this to you, and hopefully you will believe me,” you said in a rush. “But Bakugou’s somehow been separated from his body, and he’s been tethered to me for a couple of weeks.”

Deku’s brows all but climbed into his hairline. “Kacchan’s–?”

“I’m literally not messing around. He’s here right now. I have tried everything, everything in my power to get a hold of someone who could help but people understandably think I’m crazy,” you said. “I think it could be a quirk, and it’s something to do with me being the last person he interacted with before the separation. I have no idea who did it or if it really is a quirk or how or why, but the one thing I am certain of is that I’m not crazy. I need your help at least trying to find the quirk user.”

Deku did nothing to hide how unconvinced he looked. “If Kacchan’s really there…I don’t know–”

“Tell the nerd Captain All Might,” Bakugou said suddenly.

You paused, glancing up at him. He suddenly had a strange color high on his cheek bones, pink like a flush, and his ears were slightly redder than you remembered them being against his mess of blonde hair.

“What?” you asked, aware of how crazy you had to look to Deku right now. Deku’s brows furrowed.

“It’s—it’s a fucking thing, from when we were kids,” Bakugou said. “I’ll kill you if you tell anyone.”

“Okay but what is Captain All Might?” you echoed.

Suddenly, Deku froze in front of you, his grip on your wrist going slack. His eyes went a little rounder. You glanced up at him, hoping he could shed light on what the hell Captain All Might was supposed to be.

“Did….Kacchan say–?” he asked.

You nodded. “He said it’s a thing from when you were kids…?”

Deku looked wonderingly between you and the air it probably looked like you’d been chatting to. “It’s—we fought over it as our hero name, when we were kids. We both wanted to be Captain All Might…”

A laugh punched out of you, and Bakugou’s ears went even redder. “Wait, seriously?”

“Shut up or die,” Bakugou said tightly.

“He seemed to think this would make you believe me,” you said to Deku, mostly to turn your face away from Bakugou so he couldn’t see how badly you wanted to laugh again. “Deku, you can keep an eye on me the whole time, but I want to see his body. I want to see if getting him in range of it does anything. I swear, I’ll even stand on the other side of the room. You can keep a hand on me at all times.”

Deku looked contemplative.

“And then if that doesn’t work, you can bring me in for questioning, or something,” you said. “I know the police hire people with lie detecting quirks. You can literally question me all you want, and I can ask Bakugou if there’s anything else that only he and you would know, or something. I swear I’m not lying, I just want to get this thing solved so he can go back to normal. I owe him.”

Deku was quiet for a few moments, his freckled face twisted up in thought. “You don’t—danger sense isn’t getting anything from you,” he said.

You nodded again, trying to encourage him. “I swear, I’m telling the truth. I’m not trying to do anything nuts.”

He watched you contemplatively for a few more moments, Bakugou scoffing behind you. “Taking his damn fucking time,” he said irritably.

Eventually, Deku seemed to make up his mind, drawing himself up. The hand on your wrist tightened again, forcing a pained little choke out of you.

But before he could even open his mouth to answer you, he froze up, head lifting.

And then–an explosion rocked the hospital, the wall behind you blowing out. And things went to utter shit.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou

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thisapplepielife · 7 months

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Bang Dem Sticks

Character(s): Gareth | Word Count: 800 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Drumming, Future Fic, Gareth & Eddie are Best Friends

Takes place in the Tuesday's Gone With the Wind universe but I don't see why it can't be read as a standalone as long as you know Gareth's a drummer.

2023

Gareth sits behind his drum kit in a little studio. It's just him, several cameras, and the handful of guys behind the glass in the control room. He was invited to come do a video for a YouTube drum channel, where the concept was sold to him as a challenge where they'll play a song they think he's never heard, without the drum part. And then he has to blindly play what he thinks the drum part actually is, just to see how close he can get.

That sounded like a fun stop on the press tour, a change of pace from the same old, same old, so he agreed. At least this involves playing the drums, instead of just talking about the new album, the new tour. Getting asked the same four questions over and over.

This time some of the interviewers are getting brave enough to gently ask if he’s getting ready to retire. He’s not. Not yet. But that can’t be too far off. He’s almost fifty-five. He’s been on the road, nearly continuously, since he was fresh out of high school. He loves drumming, he does. But he also doesn’t want to die behind his kit on the road. He doesn’t want to die on the road, at all. He worries about that. He wants to retire, and spend the rest of his time with the people he loves most.

If he’s gonna die behind the kit, it’s gonna be the one in Harrington House, surrounded by the people he loves. Not in a strange city, all alone.

Not to mention, his right knee is getting to the point of needing some attention. The steroid shots are helping, but they're a short term fix. If he wants to walk into his old age, he’s probably looking at surgery. He hasn’t told Eddie that yet, because Eddie’ll fret about it. So there’s no need to worry him until it can’t be put off any longer.

So today he takes an Aleve, shows up, sits behind his kit, and lets them rig up all the cameras. Overhead, of his face, his hands, his feet. Then he waits.

When they give him the go sign, he sits up a little straighter. They play a song, and he starts playing along. He knows this one from playing with Eddie.

They try another. Eddie.

And again.

Eddie.

He finally laughs, "You're gonna hafta go newer."

He's sure they have his resume. They are clearly staying away from metal and hard rock. But crossing genres isn't enough for older songs. If it had an interesting drum part, Eddie's probably already dragged it into Hellfire Studios at some point over the years for them to play together. No matter the genre.

"How do you know all those?" they ask through the headset, clearly a little surprised. They had a handful of songs, and he knew them all. They need to dig deeper.

Gareth just smiles.

Eddie won't want to be named, not publicly, so Gareth just laughs and says, "I have a friend I jam with sometimes. He has very broad tastes."

They dig up something else, something newer, and it’s finally one Gareth’s never heard before. He gives them a thumbs up, and counts the time signature. It’s in 4. He listens closely. Finds the groove of the bass. Feels it. Thinks about how he’d slide in the pocket, if this was his drum part to build from scratch.

The song ends, and Gareth gives it his best shot.

When he’s finished, they roll the playback of the full song, original drum part intact, and he realizes he wasn't that far off. He's been a drummer for over fifty years, a professional for decades, and he's just happy his ear still works. That his instinct is intact, even on modern music. Though, this was a throwback of a song if he’s ever heard one. They should have found something truly modern, if they wanted to trip him up. Not a young band that has clearly found inspiration in the 70s, in Zep and Rush. Gareth knows how that goes, lived it, a long, long time ago.

Weeks later, when the video gets posted to the YouTube channel, it sure doesn't take very long for the comments on the video to start naming Eddie as the friend.

That's okay. Eddie's certainly not scouring YouTube for videos of Gareth anyway. And it's not like Gareth was the one that ID'd him. It's no secret they still play together, that they are still best friends.

And in three days he'll be back home, playing with Eddie again. Where he wants to be. Maybe he’ll bring this new tune home and see if Eddie can figure out the guitar part, just for fun.

The YouTube algorithm served me up this video of Chad Smith yesterday and I was like, oh, Gareth.

And here we are. It didn't really fit in with anything I have left for Wildflowers...and All the Rest, but I was inspired to write it, and thought, hey, it can just be a little standalone.

#thisapplepielife: short fic #ficlet #gareth (stranger things)#wildflowers...and all the rest #gareth fic #corroded coffin fic #gareth & eddie #stranger things fic #corroded coffin boys #corroded coffin

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kitmoas · 2 years

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The Chronicles of a Sweet Toy

A Training Grounds Mini Series

Summary: The sweetest side of Toy makes everyone around them melt.

Warnings: Ageplay (Think that's it, let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: This has been a long time coming, and I'm super excited to put out these drabbles. This is age play, not age regression. While it may seem not voluntary in this specific drabble, I assure you it was meant to be written in a sleepy mindset.

***Minors DNI***No Smut rn but this is an 18+ Training Grounds Universe***

The first time it happens you weren’t quite sure what it meant, nor were you awake enough to really be alarmed by it. The night was pretty calm with Wanda out of town on a mission, so you were spending the time in Natasha’s room. The two of you messed around as per normal, had snacks, and definitely ate things that Wanda wouldn’t approve of. The widow had put on a random movie so that you guys could cuddle. You were wrapped up in blankets with Natasha’s arms around you when her Stark phone started ringing across the room. The whine that ripped from your throat was higher pitched than usual, and the lost feeling as she left the bed to answer the phone was overwhelming your mind.

You were confused, nothing was different. The widow was soft and gentle tonight, giving you so much love. The normal fog in your mind had been gone for a while now, and you were happy. This feeling came out of nowhere, and it made your sleep clouded mind panic for a moment. You felt alone and scared, the size of the bed suddenly scaring you.

It only takes a moment for her to immediately come back, hovering above you with worried eyes. You could tell that your reaction scared her too, but you couldn’t think of anything coherent. You just wanted her, your Daddy.

Your hands reach out to her, grabbing onto her baggy shirt and pulling her closer. A pathetically distressed “Daddy” tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, hot heavy tears spilling onto your cheeks. Broken, and unexpected, sobs shake your body and before long you’re hyperventilating.

The feeling in your mind was familiar somehow like you experienced this before, but your body was exhausted and you didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to understand what was happening. All you know is that Daddy is here, her warmth is surrounding you and you nuzzle your nose into her neck. Her scent is comforting but you can’t stop the tears that are spilling down your bright red cheeks.

The Russian’s mind was racing, confused by the sudden change in your emotions but chalking it up to a drop. She lets her lips map across your forehead, leaving soft reminders that she is here. “I’m right here девочка, Daddy isn’t going anywhere. You’re safe, my good girl.” You wiggle some at her words, digging yourself closer to her. “I’m so proud of you detka. I got you. Daddy’s got you” She shushes your quiet whimpers, running her fingers through your messy hair.

The whispered praise comes naturally and slowly it pulls you away from your anxiety induced blackhole, but it seemingly does nothing for your tense fear. You’re still holding her shirt in a death grip, but as she rolls the two of you around on the bed you begin to calm down. The two of you end up laying in bed for hours as she listens to you sleepily babble about random things until you finally pass out from exhaustion, leaving her to fall into a confused sleep.

Tag list: @simplysimping999 @8bitscarlet @simpfornatasharomanoff @yourtaletotell @s1ut4nat @simpforflorencepugh1 @theperfectlovestory @caroldantops @katebishop-ladyarrow @widowbitessting @uraveragequeer @didujustcallmedumb

#kitmoas writes #k: TGU drabble #k: training grounds #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff #marvel wlw #natasha romanoff #wandanat #kate bishop #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff #wandanat x reader #wandanat x y/n

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eruden-writes · 4 months

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Strictly Pleasure - Part 10 PREVIEW

orc x human age gap 10 of ?

Summary: An awkward fresh-out-of-a-relationship woman and an orc that owns a sex store enter an adult theater together. She, intent on pushing her own boundaries. He, just looking to give her some sense of safety. Well, that and he wouldn’t complain about having a bit of fun himself.

After they inevitably get interrupted, Jek deals with the problem while Heidi flees. Resigned, he believes he’ll never see her again.

Thus begins Jek and Heidi’s sporadic interactions until, eventually, they find themselves fumbling around each other daily at the very place it started: Strictly Pleasure.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 (coming soon)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If you want to read the full chapter, you can find it on my Patreon!

By the time they arrived at Strictly Pleasure, Heidi became increasingly aware of the situation. She wasn't just going to spend time alone with Jek. There were going to be others present. And his bandmates. They all would have seen what happened with Travis or would be up-to-date on it by the time they arrived at the sex shop. The thought made her stomach lurch.

Just an old biddy with bad taste in men - and alleged gold-digging tendencies - hanging out with rock stars who were once mega famous. Right. Totally didn't make Heidi look bad at all.

She gnawed on her nerves once they entered the store, finding Jek talking to Gnadi while the rest of their rather large party milled about.

After confirming the theater was empty - thankfully, a slow night at the store according to Gnadi - Jek adjusted the theater settings for streaming capabilities. Since the rest of the band already had streaming capabilities, all that was left was to wait for the stragglers to come in. Which included Heidi.

“Alright, the theater has been ‘reserved’ for the rest of the wee hours. We can stream some of our old shit or watch whatever vids you sweet fun things want.” Dorzi grinned and winked at his particular contingent of guests.

As the others filed into the theater, chattering amongst themselves, Heidi lingered in the shop with Jek. When most of the others were gone, she turned to Jek as she smiled through a wince. “Actually, is there somewhere I can lay down? I feel a little lightheaded.”

She couldn’t possibly mean to get them alone, Jek thought wildly. But he couldn’t stop the thought from latching to his brain, rousing his hope and eagerness. “Oh, sure. I got a futon in the breakroom. I'll come with you.”

“You don't have to.” Heidi’s eyes widened, raising her hands as if to stop him herself.

“It’s fine, c’mon.” Motioning for her to follow him, Jek led Heidi behind the front counter, passed a grinning Gnadi, and through a door into the back. Along the way, they passed boxes of additional lewd merchandise, posters, a shelf of DVDs, and racks of clothes before passing through another doorway. As she tagged after Jek, her heart skittered in her chest. All of the reminders of carnal pleasure, of risque fun, of sex tainted her thoughts.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If you want to read the full chapter, you can find it on my Patreon!

#exophilia #monster lover #monster fucker #orc #orc x human #monster x human #monster romance #paranormal romance #modern fantasy #orc romance #👀#monster boyfriend #oh ho ho ho #Jek and Heidi ALONE?#what ever is going to happen? :3c

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spaceshipkat · 8 months

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i've said for months now that i want to write the ofmd beat sheet of season 1 and where i think season 2 could go, and @ourflagmeansgayrights had asked me to tag them in it in ye olde yesteryear, and i am finally doing it bc i just finished revising a romcom w my lit agent so it's all fresh in the brain (please note i have been going to bed bw 1:30am - 2am for the past week bc of that deadline so if i start rambling no i'm not)

this post will be long, so it's going under a cut. for this writeup, i will only focus on Ed and Stede, not the other characters with their own plot with their own beats. if you want to read the book i'm taking these beats from (and i highly recommend it if you're someone who likes to write or wants to start writing romance novels! of any subgenre! but it'd probably work for longer fics, too, or even shorter fics if one of them applies to a certain beat or follows certain beats), it's Romancing the Beat by Gwen Hayes.

going in, do remember that this is not a hard and fast rule. depending on the writer, variations of this can crop up in fiction, and do, often with success. but for the purpose of this post, we'll stick with the preestablished beats.

Beat #1: Introducing H1 and H2, aka introducing your two main characters. in the case of ofmd, this is Ed and Stede. Stede's introduction, as we all know, is him appearing on the stairs of the Revenge narrating to Lucius about how he runs the ship. episode 1 is, in essence, the entirety of Introducing H1, bc it's spent on Stede first and foremost. one might think that episode 2, when Black Pete starts telling the audience via the crew about Blackbeard, is Introducing H2, even though he isn't physically on the screen yet and what we hear of him isn't actually true (he doesn't have embers for eyes etc). and while it is and it isn't, i think a better example of this introduction beat is in episode 3 when we-the-audience finally get to meet Ed onscreen, as he orders Izzy around and blows smoke rings.

Beat #2: Meet Cute, aka what it says on the tin. obviously this is the end of episode 3, when Stede is stabbed by the Spaniards and Ed saunters on with all his pomp and circumstance to rescue him. meet-cute for the ages, that.

Beat #3: No Way #1, aka when our character expresses in some way why they don't want to fall in love--at all or with a particular person--and sets up the romance arc. for Stede, we the audience know he's married and doesn't actually think he can be/know he is gay (depending on your interpretation--i'm not here to say which it is), so we can interpret that as contributing to his No Way #1.

Beat #4: Adhesion, aka what keeps them in proximity of one another. this beat encompasses much of episode 4, when Stede and Ed have to work together to find a way to deal with the Spaniards hunting them, and also what follows afterward that morning in the crow's nest, when Stede and Ed agree to spend time together: Stede to teach Ed how to be a Proper Gentleman and Ed to teach Stede how to be a pirate.

Beat #5: No Way #2, aka Beat #3 but for the other protagonist. now, sometimes that's not always the case, since Beat #3 can also introduce the No Way for both protagonists, which would thus leave Beat #5 as simply a time in which we dig deeper into why a character or characters doesn't want to fall in love or doesn't want to fall in love with one specific person. but in the case of ofmd, Beat #5 is for Ed introducing his No Way. at the end of episode 4, Ed expresses to Izzy that he intends to kill Stede and take his place as a Proper Gentleman (whether or not he actually means to follow through on this or had planned this from the beginning are another couple things up for debate depending on your interpretation, which again i am not here to touch on). therefore, he has no intention of falling in love at all, but with Stede in particular.

Beat #6: The Inkling, aka when we start to have fun. in a typical beat sheet, rather than one specifically for a romance, this would be the start of the Fun and Games beat, where we go along with the characters on the start of their plot/journey. for a romance, this is when the two characters start to Feel Things, even if they can't identify those things or aren't fully aware of them. this encompasses episode 5 and stretches into episode 6, in which we see Ed and Stede spending more time together while they teach one another about being a gentleman and/or about being a pirate. we see Ed and Stede hanging out chatting; we see them telling stories with the crew; we see them dressing one another in finery; we see them sword-fighting. Stede doesn't want to go to the fancy fuck party, but he goes bc Ed wants to. Ed has a rough time of it there, which leads to Stede being The Gentleman Pirate. all of these scenes are meant to allow them to grow closer/feel attraction to one another (whether or not they're aware of it) as they learn more about one another and spend time together realizing they get along really well and might not actually hate it. this beat ends with Ed being forced to attempt to carry out his plan to kill Stede by Izzy, except he can't do it. bc Ed is more self-aware than Stede and/or bc he isn't unaware of his being gay, he can see how this has changed things for him, even if he's not sure he's ready to welcome that.

Beat #7: Deepening Desire, aka when those realized feelings in Beat #6 begin to come to a head. fittingly, this beat begins in episode 7, when Stede and Ed go treasure hunting not bc Ed wants to but because Stede does and Ed is unable to say no to Stede's puppy eyes (or his very sassy "we're having a day!" and flip of his coattails). again, i'm not sure that Stede is aware of his feelings for Ed yet (perhaps his attraction to Ed, but that's another thing that's up for debate) but Ed is certainly aware of his own growing feelings for Stede, even if he doesn't think anything will come of them...until Lucius gets involved, giving Ed the kick in the pants he needs to recognize that, while Stede might be oblivious to his feelings and unable to name them, he's still very much Feeling Things. just look at the way Ed encourages Stede to use his map, even though it's burned. just look at the way Ed looks at Stede when Stede is looking at the map and decides to set off in A Direction. Lucius knows Ed is aware of his feelings for Stede, hence the teasing, and Ed isn't denying them, even if he has no intention on acting on them. at least until, of course, he suggests in unison with Stede the idea of becoming co-captains. with regard to Stede's Beat #7, i think it goes into episode 8. he might not recognize what he feels for Ed yet, but he absolutely recognizes he's jealous of Ed and Jack's relationship (even if he expresses it in a way Ed might find difficult to understand), and learns that "anything goes at sea." Stede might not have been fully aware of his being gay, but he's certainly aware of the concept of homosexuality (how can he not be with the crew he has?). thus, he understands what Jack implies, and afterward, when Ed has left him, this comes to a head with how he watches the beach all night (poor Olu, patience of a saint and heart of gold).

Beat #8: Maybe This Time, aka when they think Maybe, Just Maybe, it wouldn't be the worst idea to maybe sort of give into all those thoughts and feelings. after all, at the beginning of episode 9, Ed just sacrificed himself to the British for Stede, returning to the Revenge to be with him no matter what Badminton has in store. Ed just threw himself between Stede and a firing squad. they both just signed the Act of Grace, damning themselves to ten years of serving the British Empire that Stede chafes under and Ed has spent his life fighting against/fleeing from. but they're doing it together! maybe it'll be okay! maybe! this! time!

Beat #9: Midpoint of Love, aka when Things Happen bc we're now at the halfway point of this story. Stede and Ed are together at the privateering academy, Ed wants to be Just Ed bc the time he has spent with Stede has been the most fun he's had in ages, maybe ever. they kiss! they actually kiss! they start making plans to run away to China together! Ed is happy! Stede is too, but...

Beat #10: Inkling of Doubt, aka when highs start to fade even as attachment (whether on the page--the two characters are dating, or sleeping together, or holding hands, whatever the story demands--or more vaguely, such as the two characters being aware of their feelings and how they're reciprocated but are unsure if they can actually get away from their No Way beats). Stede might be riding high on the thrill of being kissed by Ed, but that doesn't mean his worries have gone away, as evidenced by his continued almost dissociation throughout episode 9. thus, when Badminton finds him and confirms all his fears (that he's ruined Blackbeard, the greatest pirate of all time) (that he's abandoned Mary and his children) (whether or not Badminton actually showed up or was a hallucination like Stede experienced in episode 2 is another thing up for debate depending on your interpretation), he decides to run away and abandon Ed to return to his wife and children, thus harkening all the way back to his No Way beat (#3 up there).

Beat #11: Deepening Doubt, aka when things get progressively...bad. in this case, Ed knows now that Stede isn't meeting him. he starts to wonder if he misread everything, despite the kiss, bc he doesn't know what really happened to Stede--only that he never actually showed up. he returns to the Revenge and hunkers out in the blanket fort, all his fears getting worse, confronting his own No Way beat of whether or not he should have fallen for Stede.

Beat 12: Retreat! Retreat! aka when things start to go from bad to worse. Ed starts trying to move on from Stede, in the best way he can, after talking to Lucius about life just beginning again no matter how much we might hurt. for Stede, this is when he tries to force himself back into the mold of the man he left behind--the man he never was--by playacting as that hoity toity asshole society demands he be. look at how he talks to Doug, and how he forces himself back into Mary's life, no matter how miserable he is (and others are as a result--Mary in particular). he thinks he can't have that life at sea bc he has responsibilities w Mary and his children that he can't escape from.

Beat 13: Shields Up, aka when the characters are at their lowest for varying reasons. Ed knows that, if he wants to survive Izzy, he can't be Ed. he has to be Blackbeard, he has to be the Kraken. he also tells himself he was wrong about Stede, full stop. this leads to him tossing all of Stede's fine things overboard, marooning the crew while forcing Jim and Frenchie to remain onboard, and going full Kraken Mode--or so we wants people to believe. we see him at his other lowest, sobbing alone in the empty captain's cabin, looking at the painting of the lighthouse. Stede, of course, ends on a high (his arc was a bit fast-tracked toward Beat #16 down below, but not fully).

now, it's possible that Beats 11, 12, and 13 might show up in the beginning of season 2 in some way/shape/form. we might not be done exploring those beats and all they encompass, for either character, simply bc there wasn't as much time spent on them at the end of episode 9/in episode 10. but these are the upcoming beats we can might see explored throughout season 2, since we know that David Jenkins is following a romance arc for this series. and one thing to remember, as i mentioned above, is that this is not a hard and fast rule. beats can be played around with, overlap for different characters, have hiccups or brief reruns.

Beat #14: Break Up, aka what it says on the tin. some might wonder if this beat happens in the above Beat #13 scenarios i've written out, and while that may very well be possible, it would mean that Beats 10 - 13 were fast-tracked in a matter of two episodes. remember, season 2 wasn't greenlit by the time season 1 aired but months later, so David Jenkins might have wanted to play around with the structure so we're not completely left on the same low that Ed is. we know that Stede is coming back for him, even if Ed doesn't yet. thus, we might very well get a Beat #14 in season 2. Ed and Stede might reunite, Stede believing he and Ed can simply go back to what they used to be, only for him to be confronted with just how badly he hurt Ed. from the theories going around, they're bound to meet up at least a couple times before they're spending consistent time together again.

Beat #15: Dark Night of the Soul, aka the lowest of the low points at the worst of the worst points in a character's journey. for Stede, this might be him believing that he'll never be able to win Ed back. for Ed, this might be him going Full Kraken, as we see in many of the stills and teasers (him threatening Frenchie, him objecting to weddings, him adopting what the legend of Blackbeard says he looks like with the nine guns on his chest).

Beat #16: Wake Up! Smell the Coffee! aka when the sun finally rises. for Stede, this might be when he finally figures out a way to win Ed back and, perhaps, gets an inkling that Ed might actually be open to it. for Ed, this might be him realizing he's actually willing to try again with Stede, trusting that Stede won't hurt him.

Beat #17: Grand Gesture, aka what it says on the tin. if i say "picture the grand gesture in a romcom," you might picture a character running through an airport to get to their love interest before they board a plane forever. you might picture a character running through the rain to find another character bc when you love someone, you want the rest of your life to begin right now. (yeah i'm referencing when harry met sally sue me) on a show like ofmd, with a character like Stede, i think we can anticipate a very, very big grand gesture. i've written so many of them myself in so many ways (one of which even kinda aligns with that theory i saw floating around with Ed climbing up out of the surf and finding himself on an island with Stede and the crew) as have so many other brilliant writers, so i think it can go in any way we might have predicted and perhaps even some we haven't yet dreamed up.

Beat #18: Whole-Hearted, aka when we see the two characters in their New Happy, living together in love. now, i can see this going one of two ways: either season 2 ends with this Whole-Hearted beat only for season 3 to throw in some new kind of obstacle(s) that forces a revisitation of any of the above or perhaps new beats entirely, or season 2 doesn't make it to the Whole-Hearted beat and we thus have to wait for it (and perhaps Beats 16 and 17) for season 3. we know that David Jenkins sees this story as requiring three seasons to tell it fully from start to finish, which is why i think that we'll be revisiting some of the later beats from season 1 in season 2 and only get through a couple (perhaps Beats 14, 15, and 16) in season 2 before the season ends. season 2 has only eight episodes, versus season 1's ten. this could be bc of HBO fuckery, but it could also be bc David Jenkins has plans to explore some of the later beats in season 3, with season 2 just focusing on, perhaps, Beats 12 - 15.

of course, there's no way we can know until we see season 2. i'll definitely revisit this as the season progresses, since these are all just predictions based on my knowledge of writing and editing romcoms and romance novels. and others might have different takes on what happens for each beat in season 1 and season 2, bc again, everything is based on your own interpretation of preestablished rules and where you think a certain character might be mentally and emotionally. no one person is right about where each scene, moment, or character beat falls (apart from the show's writers, obviously, given they're the ones creating this).

but this is to give people some reassurance going into season 2, since i've seen so many people worried that the show is gonna go darkdarkdark, like Black Sails darkdarkdark. i understand your worry, given how often queer shows have screwed queer viewers over (i've been there!!! when i first started watching ofmd last year, i was right there, thinking we might not actually get an actual queer story like we've all been hoping for). but i also want to say that, as a writer myself, as an editor of romance, i'm not in the least bit worried that we won't eventually have our happy ending. David Jenkins isn't the kind of person to jerk our chain. he's here to tell a love story. he's not going to kill them at the end.

if you read this far, congrats! i rambled! there are probably a fuckton of typos! i will return to edit this eventually, but it's almost 11pm my time and my brain is fried. but my inbox is always open if you want to talk about anything above. just don't come into it with bad faith takes, willful misunderstanding, or whatever bullshit might pop into certain fans' minds. i'm really not here for it. i love this show, i love these characters, and i have full faith we'll be okay in the end. 💖

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd season 2 #spoilers #sorta #long post #blackbonnet #stede x ed #gentlebeard

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irudowb · 7 months

Text

Phantom

======

(gif is not mine)

Nakajima Atsushi x reader

an: this is purely self-indulgent, i wrote this at like 2 am also cross posted on ao3

warnings: 18+ - smut (handjobs), swearing, kissing, no comfort (kinda?), no use of Y/N, fem!reader, other characters are mentioned but not explicitly. uhhhhh i think that’s it. :P

lowercase intented

fic is under cut

atsushi woke up with a groan. the sun blaring through the blinds onto his face. he turns and digs his head further into his pillow, arms stretching beneath it as he shifts onto his stomach. he lets out a soft sigh as he relaxes again in darkness.

some days he finds it hard to get out of bed, only softly untangling himself from his sheets after repetitive calls from kunikida insisting he make it to work on time. even on his days off, he can't find a reason to get out and start his day, wanting to wallow away in the soft plush warmth until his body begs him to.

he wouldn't say it's because he's unmotivated or unhappy in any kind of way, just that he wants the time for himself. to laze around, not having to worry about anything. the time he spends in bed is really the only time he spends in peace, contrasting to his "normal" work days.

that is...until recently. now he finds himself eagerly getting out of bed, putting more effort in his appearance, making sure his outfit looks flawless... for you. he wasn't sure what changed, you two were good friends, around the same age when he first met you. you had started at the agency just a few months before him. you weren't there during his entrance exam (something he's now thankful for, embarrassed with how he reacted, something his mind brings up often only for him to cringe), but you saw him a few days later, congratulating him on passing and that you were excited to work with him.

you two shared the same awkwardness at feeling out of place in the new environment. the two of you became great friends, often being paired for cases, even if it was to tag along with another member. something about you had him coming to you for solace, and you to him. often catching each others eyes as if to communicate their emotions to the other.

a few weeks go by from then and he noticed himself trying to catch your eye more often from your desk across the room. dazai insisting atsushi do his work for him, he'd sigh, accepting, looking up to you, expecting (hoping) for a look of sympathy, only to find you nose deep in your work. he ignored the disappointed feeling and copied you. kenji was talking atsushi's ear off about how one of his cows back home had given birth and was upset he wasn't there for her. atsushi hums along respectfully with his story, though quickly swiping his eyes toward you, wondering if you were also listening to a very loud kenji, only to find you in a nice conversation with yosano. once again, he brushes off his disappointment as you were distracted.

but, there were times he did catch your eye. the members were sitting in the meeting room, being debriefed on a, very simple mission, atsushi couldn't find it necessary to collect everyone together like this but didn't dwell on it much further. kunikida and rampo were going back and forth discussing information, mostly interrupting one another, but atsushi couldn't hear their words as he looked up from his paper and found your eyes on him. your eyes give him a look that reassembles his thoughts from before. 'i don't see why this is necessary' - they say, he suppresses a smile, looking down at his paper again to hide it from any onlookers. he schools his expression before looking up at you with a look of understanding and a bit of humour. you two continue to look at one another like love sick teenagers, only to be interrupted by kunikida concluding the meeting.

this time you two were out for a date, at least that's what he'd like to think. it was for a mission, were disguised as two normal people, waiting for a switch-a-roo in the cafe. they had yet to show up so for now atsushi entertained the idea that it was just the two of you, enjoying a peaceful brunch date. after the waiter walked away from your booth, your foot brushed his, pulling away in apology, though he unconsciously found his foot trying to reach for you again. that he ignored. he felt you staring. he ignored it for a few moment, basking in the silent attention you were giving him, before drifting his eyes to yours. call him childish, but he couldn't help the flash of electricity jump up his spine at the contact. you stared at each other, as if enjoying a simple conversation, before you smile softly, dipping your head and sipping your coffee quietly. he let a smile crawl onto his lips but he couldn't look away, even after the waiter comes back with their food.

god, he couldn't get you out of his head, can he?

atsushi groans again into his pillow, digging his head further into the pillow, trying to brush you out of his mind's eye. he tilts his head up until his eyes are clear but the rest of his face is covered by his pillow. he stares at the clock. 6:37 a.m. too early, he thinks, but now it's nearly impossible for him to get back to sleep with you clouding his thoughts.

he rolls over onto his back with yet another groan. the blanket pooling around his waist, his arms spread out on either side of him, staring at the roof. if he squints his eyes, he can see your face in the popcorn ceiling. eyes crinkled with a soft smile, that atsushi selfishly thinks is reserved just for him. his eyes quickly shut with a whine as he realizes what he's doing. his hands shoot up to cover his eyes in embarrassment.

his first alarm blares throughout his apartment (finally) startling him out of his thoughts. 7:00 a.m. god, had he been thinking about just you for nearly 30 minutes straight?

he started his day, albeit a little lazy, but with a little kick in his step. he makes himself breakfast, staring at the pan, he imagines you waking up, your feet padding into his little kitchenette, quietly sliding up behind him, your head digging into his back as you muffle a yawn. the back of his neck shivers as he feels the phantom. you hands sprawled across his stomach as you nose up his shoulder, resting your head there with a tired pout, eyes nearly closed. atsushi smiles leaning back slightly to feel more of you. he can almost feel the content hum that slips out of you. your one hand slips its pinky into the waistband of his sweatpants, the sleepy emotion present on your face contradicting the actions of your hands.

the smell of burning brings him from his daydream making him open his eyes, when did he close them? quickly looking down at the pan to find his breakfast, sizzling and black.

"shit." he mutters, taking it off the heat and placing it on the side. he glares at the food like its the fault for his daydream. with a deep sigh he figures he can just pick something up on the way, he doesn't have time.

making it to work had been more a less a challenge. from putting his shirt on backwards and nearly walking out of the door with it. forgetting his work bag on the counter and having to run back. the worker messing up his order and having to kindly explain more than a few times what his proper order was (bless his heart). but finally, making it to work a minute before his start time. with an exhausted sigh, he twists the door handle and walks in with his regular "good morning, everyone."

and in return his receives a few muttered "good morning" and "hey's" but from you he receives "atsushi! come look at this!" setting his bag down at his desk, next to a very asleep dazai, he walks over with an unconscious smile. he places a hand on your desk looking down at you. you unconsciously lean into him (he can't tell if he wants it to be unconscious or if you're actively hoping to be closer to him) and show him a few pictures of a cat you saw on your way to work. you, yourself were a dog person but you knew that atsushi loved cats. you teased him about it one day saying 'of course you do, you're a cat yourself.' and you jokingly asked if he 'can speak to cats.' he was embarrassed, his blush made that abundantly clear but seeing you smile and quietly laugh at your own jokes, he never told you to stop.

your quiet conversation came to a complete stop as kunikida glared silently at the two of them. quickly, you two immediately went back to work.

a little disappointed that your time together was cut short, but atsushi figured you two would have more time later on.

working pretty consistently to get his work done, motivated, he would pause every now and then to catch a glance at you before inevitably going back to his (read: dazai's) work. only once did he completely stop everything he was doing to fully look up at you. you let out a frustrated sigh before leaning back into your chair with your head leaning up against the back, before letting out a final, exhausted sigh with your eyes closed.

his heart jumps in his throat.

what

eyes wide at his own reaction, he lets out a soft shuttered breath before trying to focus back onto his work. 'how can you?' his mind's voice, quite loud, he might add, fogging his mind from work. 'she didn't even do anything' he counters the voice. the voice doesn't respond so he goes back to work, albeit a little hard to get his focus back but it works... for about five minutes before his mind is suddenly flooded with you on your back, hair sprawled out on his pillow, releasing the same exhausted sigh but this time your face flushed and eyes boring into his, pleading.

his spine his shocked straight, eyes wide, jaw slightly slack, and a soft glow of a blush present.

...what?

he quickly and quietly excuses himself to the restroom. glaring at himself in the mirror, hands on either side of the sink to lean into the mirror. 'you're a pervert.' god... he hangs his head low, before splashing himself with cold water to reduce the current (rising) blush. before he heads back to his desk, composed. not before noticing you stare boring into him, he ignores it.

the rest of the day goes without any further issues. he finished his work for the day and is now waiting for you to finish bantering with rampo about the best candy flavour, he knows your defending blue raspberry but he can't be bothered what rampo is defending. you walk over to him and he notices your smug smile, eyes closed in success; he assumes you won before looking at rampo to see the same expression, he holds back a chuckles at the thought that you both think you won the argument.

you link your arm around his, routine, still holding the same smug smile but this time your eyes are open and looking up at him from his arm. he pushes down the warmth that envelopes him before gesturing in front of him to lead you out the door to walk you home.

you talk animatedly about your plans for the night, you were to make dinner, then shower, read a book or maybe finish one of your sudoku puzzles, before you, as he quotes 'wind down.' he didn't let himself indulge on your choice of words before he also shared his plans for the night.

watching your hands find your apartment key, slipping into the handle, and hearing an audible click, your dog from within barks at whomever is behind. you don't walk in, instead you turn around and lean up, planting the softest kiss atsushi thinks he's ever felt. before his or your cheeks can flush, you whisper a 'goodnight' so close he can feel your breath against his ear.

he blinks and your door is shut with you now inside and him standing beyond it. he stares at the door for a few more seconds before smiling like an idiot. now he really feels like a teenager in those high school dramas he's seen kyouka watching. he turns quickly, before he can do something stupid like burst your door down and kiss you senseless.

he doesn't even know when he gets to his own apartment, he has half a mind to lock it as he enters (old habits die hard) before making his dinner (not burning it) and heading for a shower. he's following your plan, he smiles drunkenly at the thought, he didn't mean to, it just seemed normal. the only thing different is that he immediately slumps into bed.

eyes closed, he lets out a soft sigh. his thoughts are quiet for a beat before it's suddenly flooded with the feeling of your lips against his cheek. it all happened so fast he couldn't even comprehend the plush contact, he blindly raises his hand to his cheek. a silly thought came into his head that he shouldn't have washed it off in the shower, before audibly chuckling. his brain cuts his off his laughing by flooding his mind again with your low whispering, so close to his ear.

the soft blush on his face deepens, spreading quickly to his ears and neck. his eyes snap open. no, no he can't be thinking about this right now. his mind counters the argument by showing the ghost of you slowly crawling up to his lap on your hands and knees. he swears he can feel the bed dip where your hands plant on either side of his hips. your frame being ever so beautifully framed by his legs.

he shakes his head, eyes squeezed tight.

he takes a deep breath.

'this is... wrong.' he thinks, nobody actually jerks off to the thought of another, they just say they do to make the other feel good... right? he rolls over onto his side, staring out his window. he should just go to bed, forgetting his own insistent need, and move on to the next day. he smiles, albeit a little forced, trying to convince himself at his plan, ready to close his eyes and succumb to darkness.

'just close your eyes, count sheep if you have to.'

he bites his lip.

'...just, close your eyes.' he gently sighs, relaxing.

the wind blows, shaking the tree by his window. atsushi wonders if it's going to rain.

'no, close. your eyes.'

a beat.

groaning, he wonders if he even forgot how to, before turning his head into the pillow, eyes now only effectively half closed, protecting themselves from the cloth. this is good enough.

he sighs again, untensing his shoulders and back to make it easier. he considers reading a book until he passes out.

he weighs his options before he feels your phantom slide up next to him kissing his bare shoulder, ever so gently, as you did his cheek. goosebumps rise, he doesn't entertain the idea, but he also don't try to look to his left where you wouldn't be, some part of him whispering where this will lead. he glares into the pillow at the voice.

he feels your pout on his shoulder, perhaps upset you haven't looked at him. so you trail more kisses down his forearm, then back up to the space between his shoulder and neck. he doesn't know when he started panting but he can feel his hot breath against his face, bouncing off the pillow. he's this worked up over a few kisses?

"atsushi..." he hears your sickly sweet voice whine his voice, his body shivers, now unaware if you're actually in the room or not, it sounded too real... "are you not gonna look at me?"

"no..."

god, now he really feels stupid, talking to himself, more stupidly, your phantom. he can't let this go on. he shifts coming up onto his elbows, head still hanging low. he's about to speak before he feels your nails ghost down his back, so, so slowly, he groans quietly, head dropping back to his pillow. "shit..."

your fingers continue down stopping at the dip of his back.

"you're so sensitive." your voice is full of humour and teasing, he nearly growls. great, now his mind is mocking him.

your nails trail back up, this time with more pressure, still soft. "atsushi..." you call to him like a siren. it makes his head spin. his back twitches, wanting to lean into your touch. he hears your laugh, he feels sick.

"come on, are you really gonna keep ignoring me?" he hears your whine, but he also hears the teasing tone. he weakly nods his head into the pillow. he wants to slap himself, maybe a good punch. why is he not shooing your shadow away? he can feel it glaring at him from his bedroom wall. he's vaguely aware that his eyes are now closed, but his attention is now on the feeling of your lips on his back, tracing the line of goosebumps that erupted from your fingers earlier.

groaning into the pillow, he arches his stomach into the bed trying to flee from your lips. he lets out a pant as he feels his, very prominent, erection rub against his sweatpants.

your lips leave his back and whisper, "roll over."

his back arches off the mattress as he feels your lips ghosting over his navel. he throws his arm across his eyes. his mind falters for a second, when did he get on his back...? the thought is thrown away as he feels your lips trail up his chest. he must be going crazy.

you hum as your tongue darts out of your mouth to leave kitten licks along the scars that grace his chest. his head swims, had he been standing, surely he would've fallen over by now. he hears soft moans in the thick air of his room; he wasn't sure if they were his or yours. your hands join your lips in caressing the scars, before they move in opposite directions. your lips meet his collarbone as your hand meets the band of his sweatpants. his breath hitches, finding it hard to breath.

"please..." his own voice sounds foreign to him, breathless and low.

he feels your breath tickle his collarbone as you exhale a laugh. "you're not ignoring me anymore?" his body is racked with shivers.

he doesn't respond only moaning softly as he feels the tips of your fingers slip past the loose band of his pants. he moves his arm from his eyes to grip the sheets below him, lost in pleasure, he keeps his eyes closed.

your hands dig into the sweatpants, pushing the hem with it, his pants now a little past his knees, he feels you kiss back down his chest, paying attention to his abdomen, his hips, and up his thigh.

"god...please." he groans, but it's quickly followed by a whine.

you hum into the butterfly kisses. "please, what?"

"fuck, touch me, please... i feel like i'm gonna die."

he feels you move up, planting a kiss to the same cheek you did early today. he moans softly at the treatment. if you say something, he doesn't hear you, to blinded by the fact that you finally, finally, touch him. he lets out a breathy moan jerking up into your hand. you let out a tsk but do nothing to hold him down.

you grasp the base of his erection squeezing it gently. he lets out a deep groan, back arching slightly. "shit."

"who knew you had such a dirty mouth."

whining in defiance, his mind is flooded with the idea of making the same sounds come from you before your hand slides up to the tip collecting his precum between your thumb and pointer, effectively bringing the fluid down his length to make your movements easier.

his moans flow freely from his mouth now into the open air for you to hear, unashamed.

"more, more, god... please." he whines as you chuckle but obey him anyway.

he growls as he feels your hand squeeze the tip everytime you come back up. his hips jerk and jump into your hand, chasing the heat. you kiss along his neck and shoulder, his head falling back onto the pillow. you coo at the subtle act of submission, picking up the speed of your hand.

"fuck, please... please i'm so close." moaning loudly as you respond by going faster, your other hand flattens along the tip of his cock, rubbing in slow circles.

"come on, let me see it..." you whisper against his ear.

"shit...!" he words are spoken through grinding teeth, his back arches off the bed as he cums with a jerk. your hand keeps moving, slower now, but squeezing his tip again, pushing more cum out.

"ah... fuck, stop." he whispers breathily. his hand reaches for yours, stilling the movement.

his adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his throat dry and sore. he slowly opens his eyes, staring at his ceiling. lifting his head to look down at where you were by his hips, he freezes as he realizes you weren't there. with a loud groan, his head falls back onto the pillow, arm thrown over his eyes as his hands, not yours, were full of his own cum.

"god... i'm an idiot."

how was he supposed to face you in the morning?

#atsushi nakajima #armed detective agency #bungou stray dogs #nakajima atsushi x reader #yosano akiko #bsd #kyouka izumi #kunikida doppo #bsd dazai #bsd atsushi #x reader #fanfic

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lwbu · 1 year

Text

Love Will Bury Us

Chapter 8

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

pairing: aemond targaryen x targaryen!oc

summary: Alyssa Targaryen cherished chaos, its presence a comforting reminder that she was alive and breathing. But when dragons danced and fire erupted, her chaos was no longer her own. As the last of control slipped through her fingers, a hand came in its place—cold, possessive and unforgiving, and it belonged to Aemond Targaryen.

content & warnings: f!oc, targcest, so much tension it hurts, slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood and violence, spoilers for hotd, canon character(s) death, canon divergence, morally grey characters, additional tags to be added

word count: 6.1k

notes: so… it’s been a while. i hope you’re all still here, though.

english is not my first language. all feedback is very appreciated. also on ao3 and wattpad.

It was the smell that hit her first when she mounted the beast—the stench of rotting flesh and smoke so heavy it nearly made her retch.

When she put her hands on the hot scales, her fingers found torn pieces of skin still dampened by fresh blood. With a bile in her throat, Alyssa shut her eyes. Not seeing the damage didn't seem to make it hurt any less. Blindfyre reeked of death; if she chose to look, she'd see it, too, and nothing filled her with dread more than that thought.

She forced herself to stay still; forced her body into submission, fighting the urge to flee, if only to find fresh air. Within her mind, she travelled back to the warm days in the middle of summer and endless fields where she'd sit with Rhaena, grass staining their dresses green, flowery scent providing solace. Her sister would spend hours trying to teach her the names of the flowers, never discouraged by Alyssa's repeated mistakes. There, under the sun, they'd braid each other's hair and weave delicate petals into the plaits. Fingers dirtied with soil, they'd laugh and sing and be, and nothing could ruin it. They were safe and together, and together felt invincible. There had never been any spilled blood, then. Their hands and minds had been clean, void of permanent stains. Alyssa wished it had stayed like this forever; wished she'd never known the unbearable smell of copper and shade of crimson beneath her nails, and fear so overwhelming it squeezed her chest, claws digging into her heart, attempting to pull it out.

Days like that were long gone; now, it felt as though the sun would never shine again. Now, all the flowers were dead. But they were alive, she reminded herself, eyes focused on Blindfyre. They were still alive.

There was no icy wind to bite into her cheeks, and yet they hurt nonetheless, perhaps burned by the scorching tears that left wet trails behind. It felt, she realised, just like her very first time on dragonback had—unsteady breath, racing heart, trembling palms. She had been crying then, too, although the tears hadn't tasted of bitterness. It felt like her last, when Blindfyre's wings seemed too weak to slice through air. They shook as they moved, any balance and stability forgotten; without the security of straps, Alyssa would have long fallen off. Ages ago, she would ridicule them, always so full of the desperate wish to not be separated from bare dragon scales, the want to feel them underneath her skin. She'd demand the saddle be removed, if only for one flight, to truly become one being with Blindfyre. Her father, though, never allowed it, adapting the kind of tone that Alyssa couldn't quite muster the courage to disobey. Now, the saddle between their bodies she had once hated became a promise of safety. It was more than a little ironic. Almost everything these days was.

Once, what now felt like a mere whisper of not yet bloodied past, too distant to be clear anymore, the sky had been a safe haven. Now the air shook, the swaying no longer comfortable; even the moon, so enchanting in the way it brushed through the coal wings and silver strands, seemed to mock her. Alyssa never looked away from the pale, shining spot—not if she could help it, too mesmerised to pay attention to anything else but the way her heart swelled, reaching higher, always higher, to one day touch it. But the moon was no longer a companion, only a stranger, and even with thousands of stars lightning up the skies, Alyssa was all alone.

The arrival at the remote island was almost entirely separated from reality, as though Alyssa had become caught in one of her nightmares, awaiting an escape from its clutches. Blindfyre had moved on his own, not once demanding her assistance, driven by motives that remained unspoken yet understood by them both. She had sensed his desperation; had felt it deep inside her own chest, in the way her breath would hitch in sync with his. He had been fast—faster than ever before, and than she had known him capable of. There had been no grace in the way he moved; no illusion of composure, for he never needed to act in front of her. His heart was her own, after all.

And when they touched down, the feeling that came in crashing waves was unmistakable—could not be taken for anything else. Hope, Alyssa realised. The dragon, all pure heart and burning blood, and on the verge of falling, still breathed with hope.

And if there was any indication that she ought to feel the same, it was this—her and the beast, two pairs of eyes forever connected, a touch so brief it didn’t even feel real if not for the fluttering of her skin.

For a short moment, there was only peace. For a short moment, Alyssa believed that his hope would become her own.

Stupidly, and only for a second, Alyssa wished to remain in this place; away from all the duty that had left its dark mark on her heart and soul; away from her family who, recently, only ever made her miserable. And away from grief and hurting, for there was so much of it—too much, perhaps, for her soul. Only the two of them, safely hidden from the rest of the world, and still breathing. But then she remembered the nature of the island and the threat that was to come. She remembered the wrath that had made her nearly blind; the anger that had forced her hand to push the dagger further; the shame that had been her only companion in the last days. And she knew—of course, she knew—that the island was no refuge; no shelter, nor a safe place. It was her doom. It was a downfall, a ruination—a true disaster. Hope tended to shatter in places like this, too fragile to persist.

It was all the more real when her eyes, at last, caught sight of a lone figure. Even though she'd known the purpose of the travel, seeing him still made her heart stop, a bile of unruly wrath in her throat.

Aemond Targaryen, she noted, moved as swiftly as smoke. His steps were as sharp as they were fluid; a constant motion, unwavering and confident, and so, so full of composure. It vexed her; made her mouth twist in a heavy grimace. His head was still held high—ever confident, always self-assured. He could have been long dead, she remembered; could have fallen by her hand alone. It was her own mistake that had allowed him to live. It was her weakness, the weight of it nearly unbearable, that had made her fail. And there he was, proud as ever, still breathing when Lucerys Velaryon was gone. This thought, she knew, was better kept tucked away deeper within her mind. There was no more time for recklessness and mistakes.

It was a vicious circle—thoughts of doubt and betrayal turned into rage, and then once more leading to utter weakness. She was tired of it—tired of herself, and so thought it best to focus only on Blindfyre. He was the one who had brought her here, and the one she trusted most. If her heart and mind were to remain in one piece, it was only through the belief she had in her dragon. He, of all beings in the world, would not lead her to death. He, alone, would not become her downfall. Her soul had long since been torn into pieces, but he remained the only part of her that was still untouched, not yet corrupted by the darkness. And for him, she would fight—hundreds of battles, if need be, for he was worth every drop of blood.

If Alyssa were to search for any semblance of comfort, she'd find it in his face. Aemond looked paler than ever, the uncovered eye weary, the skin around it dark and purplish, as though he, too, could not sleep, haunted by nightmares or, perhaps, hating himself. There was something different about him now—a sense of unhinged, fierce chaos that was evident in the way he looked at her. The violet had a touch of wild fury about it; it was so intense it could burn. They said, after all, that all still waters had a danger to them; that the safety was but a scheme to lure fools in. Now, without the distance, the waters started to thrash. And Alyssa watched him in silence and forbidden fascination, because the sight of him gradually stripped off the feigned composure gave her, at the very least, crumbs of victory.

As always, he was clad in black. It was somewhat amusing that the man who had begun the war—who had first spilled blood—did not ordain himself in rich greens he represented. The leathers clung tightly to his lean body; they fit him perfectly, as skin would. And his hands—the stupidly long fingers—were calloused and still, with only one of them covered by a glove. She recognised it, for it was she who carried the missing one. It remained inside her pocket—a reminder of the lack of limits he held when it came to abusing her privacy, inserting himself into her life with a ferocious force. It seemed so long ago that he had entered her chambers in the Red Keep, as though a lifetime had passed; as though they were now completely different people. And perhaps it was the truth of it, because Alyssa no longer felt like the girl who had sneaked through dark corridors. And this game—the one bloomed between them like a forbidden flower, and for their eyes alone—had taken a different turn. No longer a mere children's play, but something more. Something dangerous.

“You came.”

“Did you hope I wouldn't?” There was no trace of a fight in her voice. She knew she sounded like a fallen soldier; someone long defeated. Weak, and no longer burning. Aemond seemed to enjoy seeing her this way, for his lip twitched, as though pleased with the sight. She wouldn't allow him to cherish it in silence, and so pushed further to break it. Break him. “Kinslayer?”

The word, even when spat and accompanied by the coldest of stares, did little to cut him. Alyssa saw it in his eye—the violet remained unfazed, a polished, perfected statue frozen in time.

“Oh, I knew you would.” He drawled the words almost lazily, but there was a rasp in his voice, a glint in his eye, and Alyssa held onto it with utmost care, desperate for the reminder that he was only a man, not one of her nightmares. “You are many things, but not a fool.”

She hated the way he spoke, as though above any and all emotions. She wanted him to break. She wanted to be the one to break him.

“No.” Her voice was loud enough for him to hear, or maybe he came to stand close enough. As always, distance was not something Aemond Targaryen seemed to have much desire for. Not in her presence, at least. She recognised it for what it truly was—an act of intimidation, a desperate want for her to shatter underneath the weight of his intense stare. She wouldn't give it to him. She wouldn't. “Only one of us is a fool.”

Alyssa's anger only grew stronger, a wild wave in the storm or a lightning itching to strike or both at once, when she noticed a trace of silent, unspoken amusement on his otherwise impassive face. She had no intention to entertain him. It seemed, though—like always, when it was just the two of them—that her intentions and wishes mattered not.

When he moved, all she could do was watch and wait, breath held in her burning lungs, words dying in her mouth. His cloak brushed her knees and thighs, his body looming over as he circled her. It was less than seconds and more than decades, calm and chaos, before Aemond stood right behind her. He was close—so close that, even if Alyssa had only ever associated him with dreadful coldness, now the warmth radiating from his body nearly pushed her to her knees. Whatever sound tried to escape her throat, she stubbornly held it in. When Aemond's hand came to brush through her hair, Alyssa bit into her tongue.

It seemed that they were still playing the game, then. She wondered what victory would taste like.

“Brave girl,” a mere whisper, but spoken right into her ear, long fingers tucking silver strands behind it as if to gain better access. She hated when he called her that, for it always sounded like an insult. “And yet... I cannot help but wonder what lies you've fed your family with.” His hold tightened, barely so, but enough for Alyssa's head to involuntarily move. Their faces were too close. “Do they even know you left your tower?”

Alyssa was tired of many things, but the reminder of what had become of her family—what secrets she had come to keep from them all like a filthy traitor—wearied her down the most. She knew that, if they ever found out, she'd be long locked inside the castle, all remnants of freedom stripped away. They'd take Blindfyre from her; take the very last thing that offered solace and kept her sane. And though the chains around her neck and wrists would be invisible, she'd feel them with every step and breathe until she'd grow tired of breathing altogether. Maybe it would be better. Wherever she went, either way, she was trapped.

“The most scandalous act for a lady, sneaking off in the middle of the night to meet with a man she should fear,” he continued, and so did his hands. Bewildered, Alyssa noticed that, somewhere in the middle of his speech, he'd started braiding her hair. His breath was hot on her cheek. “Do they know?”

She hated him. She hated him and still stood frozen, his hands on her and why, why would he touch her? Why wouldn't he stop? Why wouldn't she step away?

“Why?” Finally, finally her mouth moved. Alyssa was ashamed to notice her voice cracked; ashamed to know that he noticed, too. “Have you lured me in here to kill me?”

She both heard and felt the hum that came from his throat, low and deep and scorching, his chest moving against her spine.

“It is tempting,” Aemond murmured. His fingers stopped moving and, for just a second, she could breathe once more. “A firstborn for a firstborn, yes? And it would be so easy, having your pretty little head delivered to your father.”

Alyssa was indeed not a fool, and although his words made little sense, she could think of an explanation. She knew her father; knew what he was capable of. She knew his rage, for it was in her blood. Something must have happened—a crime, perhaps, committed in secret, with the advantage of being away from Dragonstone. A firstborn for a firstborn.

It seemed Daemon Targaryen needed no permission from the Queen, then. Perhaps Alyssa was wretched—evil and beyond redemption—because something sick and twisted that seemed a lot like satisfaction crawled around in her heart.

Make them hurt. Make them feel the pain, all of it, until there's nothing more. Make them fall.

And what hurts more than the pain of losing a child?

“Oh, but you don't know, do you?” There it was again, the mocking note in his voice, encouraged by her silence, the vicious squeeze when his hand abruptly found her throat. “Has he not mentioned his crimes, then? Kinslayer. You do seem to enjoy the name so much.”

If only she could reach the dagger she'd hidden underneath all the suffocating leathers clinging to her skin; if only she could take his tongue, never to hear his voice again. It was the same voice that would haunt her in dreams, the one that whispered in her ear when she felt the weakest. In the nightmares, she could never escape it—it seemed to echo through her entire body, as though long woven into bones and flesh, sunken so deep there was no way of destroying it. She could run and scream and cry, and he'd laugh and claw at her throat, leaving her voiceless, always whispering and humming, a low vibration taking over all her senses.

In her dreams, he'd always win. But this wasn't a dream and his hand, although just as cold as the one from her nightmares, wasn't squeezing with enough force.

“Do not,” she rasped, somewhere between breathless and caught in a foolish hope for victory, “speak of my father.”

“Why not?” His grip tightened and Alyssa knew that his fingers would leave prints, all air escaping her chest, panic seizing her thoughts. “Does it hurt, sweet girl? Knowing he's every bit the murderer I am? Are you still so repulsed?”

Repulsed. Oh, how little he knew her. Perhaps one day he'd understand just how delighted she was to know that they paid—that they'd keep paying for what they'd done. But his hand wouldn't stop squeezing, forcefully grabbing at her neck, still and harsh and greedy, and yet… the pressure was not enough to truly hurt her. As though the whole act served the purpose of proving something. Proving that, if provoked, he could attack. And he would.

“Whatever it is he did,” Alyssa spat, “you started this. Every drop of blood that follows is on your hands.”

Finding the courage, she slowly tilted her head, enough to find his gaze, cold and already on her—always on her. Alyssa knew that staring would do little to make him falter. Still, she refused to look away. He had started this game, just like he'd started the bloodshed. She wouldn't let him think he was winning.

When his hand fell down, only to be next replaced with a sword at her neck, so rapidly she had barely noted the movement at all, Alyssa betrayed no surprise, for it was all so predictable she wanted to laugh and cry and make him fall, make him lose, make it all end.

She couldn't—wouldn't—panic. She refused to give him any indication that he'd managed to frighten her once more. If there was something that Alyssa understood about Aemond at all, it was that he wouldn't kill her without a purpose. Their game had yet to end—he seemed to be enjoying it too much to free her now. He wouldn't hurt her; not here, not this moment.

“Step back.”

It was a small mercy that Vhagar was nowhere in sight, but a mercy nonetheless. Blindfyre screeched loudly somewhere in the background; she knew that if the other beast was present, the battle for dominance would be lost. Blindfyre was already falling, collapsing, disappearing—leaving her all alone, just the way everyone else had. But she could still stop this. She still had time.

“Only if you ask nicely.” He was taunting her again, moving to stand in front, tall and dark, the tip of the blade still on her throat. “All you have to do is say please.”

“I don't beg.” Not him, never him; she'd die before giving in, before the shame and darkness and guilt swallowed her. “And I'm not afraid of you.”

Aemond smiled; the sight made Alyssa's fingers tremble. Still, as always, he seemed satisfied with her answer, for he lowered the sword, taking a step back.

“No, you're not.” It lasted only a short moment, but he looked away from her face to watch the blade instead, and it was enough for Alyssa to force the suffocating panic out of her mind. He was still smiling, thin lip lazily curled, face carved in harsh lines and sharp angles. He spoke silently, and she was once more reminded of how close he still was. She heard every single word falling from his mouth. “But you will be.”

It had become a habit, she realised—the repeated promises of violence they exchanged. Sometimes, when her eyes refused to shut and mind desperately grasped for consciousness, fighting against sleep, she would wonder whether said promises were empty. Sometimes, she'd dream of fulfilling them.

She hadn't even noticed his hand reaching into one of his pockets until Aemond was holding something. Alyssa squinted, only now reminded of just how dark it was; how late, how far from any living soul. How foolish she had been to come. How she could have been long dead, left at his mercy because of her own stupidity. But her heart was still beating, and whatever it was that Aemond was holding between his long, pale fingers wasn't a weapon.

“Here's a token of our newfound friendship,” he drawled, something odd and unfamiliar and more than a little unsettling sparkling in his eye. “You may keep the book for now. Either way, it is of no use to me.”

It looked like—

“A piece of paper?” As another wave of anger erupted from her chest to spread through veins, Alyssa briefly wondered if Blindfyre felt it, too, and with equal intensity; if his hope was gone. “This is not what I came here for, Kinslayer.”

He shook his head, silver strands moving around, brushed by the wind. His sword disappeared in its sheath; gloved hand flexing, as though debating whether to once more close around her neck or not. When his eye found hers again, Alyssa didn't flinch.

“You came here because you need me.” The words felt like a little death; silence disturbed by striking lightning. They sounded like truth. Alyssa decided, then, that she hated the truth, too. “I came because I enjoy seeing you desperate. So conflicted… hating me and knowing you cannot stop coming back for more.”

More. There was always more, wasn't there? More pain and fear, more nightmares to come that Alyssa was sure would take the shape of Aemond as he looked now, staring her down. More yearning for his downfall, as well. More hoping that one day, he'd be gone.

Aemond's gaze moved to Blindfyre. Only then did Alyssa realise the beast came closer, so close that if he chose to spread his wings, they'd brush against her side. She couldn't look at him; not now, when she still remembered his blood and wounds, and how his condition only seemed to worsen. Even when she held her breath, Alyssa was hit by the stench.

“Look at the state of him.” Aemond was not foolish enough to come closer to the dragon, tilting his head instead, eye narrowing. “Can you smell death, too?” His wicked grin widened, all sharp teeth and cruel sparkle, an image as sinister as it was violent. He was enjoying this. Enjoying her pain. “No need to be greedy, Alyssa. You'll be back for more, will you not?”

If only he'd choke on her name, her soul would be freed. How ridiculous it was—the realisation that she had willingly allowed him to trap her in the middle of whatever this mess meant, if it had any meaning other than death at all. Alyssa grimaced but said nothing, watching the proud smirk, imagining dragging her nails through the length of his face, drawing blood. He was right—of course, he was. Aemond Targaryen, always the one with upper hand; forever two steps ahead, all her responses seemingly long carved inside his mind, predictable and awaited. He needed no answer.

“You'd do well to run off now.” The gloved hand reached her cheek without any hesitation. It was ice and fire and nothing and all, and Alyssa couldn't, wouldn't understand. It seemed smarter not to. “I cannot promise I'll behave if you stay.”

Her mouth twisted, a heavy bile in her throat.

“You'd do well to remember I want you dead.” Alyssa refused to yield, to lower her gaze, to let her voice shake. “And you will die. The moment you stop being useful, I'll slice your throat.”

Just like she should have; just like she had failed to do.

Aemond looked like he was remembering her last defeat, too; he let out a short laugh that made her blood freeze.

“Your sweet promises have little meaning.” He was moving away, out of her reach, and if only she had enough courage to once more take out her dagger— “And yet I always want more.”

As a child, Alyssa feared the night; the loneliness and the darkness, and the onslaught of gloomy dread. Now, though, it was only then that she was given freedom. As she held the paper in her trembling hands, she knew she'd never be brave enough to look at it in daylight.

It was an old parchment, eaten away by years and splattered in dust. So fragile a simple touch could ruin it.

A crimson print right in the centre, as though someone had pressed a cut finger to leave a mark.

Letters, now faded and blurred, the penmanship nowhere near what Alyssa had been taught was acceptable. Her septa would most likely grimace at the sight, lamenting over the lack of propriety and elegance, and such blatant disregard for the noble art of literacy.

Only one word, right below the blood stain.

Runes.

“Rhae—Your Grace.”

It was odd to see her; Alyssa didn't even realise how many days had passed without Rhaenyra's presence.

It seemed all people did lately was abandon her. She had no right to feel it, none at all, and yet irritation burned through her skin in growing flames. Her father had left, Rhaena had learned to lock the doors to her chambers, and Rhaenyra had disappeared completely. Now, days and nights and what felt like entire lifetimes later, she stood before her with no trace of remorse on her face.

But she'd lost a child, and Alyssa was not hers. She wasn't anyone's, and so any demands she carried in her chest had no right to exist at all.

“Walk with me?” It was not an order, not really, but falling from the lips of the Queen herself, no protests could ever have come from Alyssa's lips. “Have you eaten today? You look so pale.”

Alyssa hated the way her heart jumped in delight when Rhaenyra's arm linked with her own, urging her to join in the seemingly aimless stroll through the corridors. She'd been gone, yes, but now she was there. And she cared. She still cared.

Maybe, just maybe, Alyssa was hers, too. Not in a direct sense; not how a child belongs to a mother. But by choice. Perhaps it meant something.

Or maybe she was deluding herself so as to not crumble and shatter completely, alone, alone, alone.

“I'm well.” She saw Rhaenyra silently raise her thin eyebrow, as though challenging her to confess what was on her mind. But she couldn't. “Truly,” Alyssa insisted. “And… I doubt this is what you wish to discuss.”

For just a moment, she wished it was. She selfishly wished Rhaenyra's only goal was to check on her, to hold her hand and brush a hand through her hair and promise everything would be alright. The realisation of just how greedy she'd become for any affection left bitterness in her mouth. It tasted like shame.

“I spoke with Rhaenys. She's told me of your dreadful ideas. Alyssa, how could you even think of it? Do you have no care for yourself?”

“It is to my understanding that whatever I decide, it ought to be worth it. And would it not be worth it, having such forces on our side? We need this.”

“We need to stay alive.” Her voice was so cold Alyssa could barely recognise it. “This is our priority. I will not lose more. No more.” Somewhere along the way, they’d stopped moving, now frozen in an unspoken battle of gazes. Rhaenyra’s lips were downturned, her eyes wet with tears she refused to let go of. “I look at you and see him. Every time. You have all his rage, and I fear it will ruin you.”

Shame and guilt, still there, heavy on her shoulders; Alyssa lowered her eyes.

“Rage might just keep me alive, even in the hands of a Greyjoy.”

“No. Your father would never consent to this, and neither do I.”

She was so tired, so tired.

“Your Grace—”

“I will not give you to him. Not to him.” And oh, what a fool she’d been to think she could ever argue with the Queen herself and win. “Are you truly this opposed to Winterfell?”

Sometimes, she wished for Winterfell and House Stark to burn, if only to free herself from the overbearing sense of duty and everyone who tried to force her to accept this. A dutiful lady, thrown away from the warmth of her castle, pushed to her knees in front of a lord who would own her. A wife—no longer a woman or a dragon, living the rest of her days in the shadow of her husband who would win all the battles in exchange for her heart.

There was no place for flames within snow.

“What would you have me do?” How pathetic it was to hear her voice crack; how disappointing to know she’d lost all control. She felt so small, so weak and fragile, and yet would not yield. “A dragon in the north; a Targaryen singing songs of both fire and ice?”

Rhaenyra froze. Alyssa watched the rigidity of her body with silent curiosity, waiting for her next words, knowing that she had not yet lost. Perhaps, at the very least, she could delay the inevitable.

“Just—think about it. Time and time again, if need be. Discuss it with the council; write your father.” The Queen moved slowly, looking at her over her shoulder, eyes cold and hard and belonging to a true ruler. “Alyssa. Swear it.”

And in spite of the shame and anger, and the constant urge to flee and never return, Alyssa knew it was not wise to stand against the Queen herself any longer, and so she whispered, “I swear.”

Before the Queen left, before Alyssa was—once again—all alone, she managed to speak, the words uttered without much thought.

“Is this all I'll forever be reduced to? My father's rage?”

There was something in Rhaenyra's eyes that reminded Alyssa of the forever burning wildfire, confined within walls and never spreading but always burning, too strong to fade.

“You want to be more?” The small smile that appeared on her face was touched by a sense of secrecy Alyssa yearned to understand, as though Rhaenyra knew something she herself did not, and cruelly chose not to say it. “Prove it.”

She'd spent most of the day with Baela, cherishing the silence that seemed to be the dominant theme of their relationship. It was nice, she supposed, to not talk and be forced to listen. There was nothing to say anymore, and words had long ceased to be a comfort, or even matter at all.

The thought of old parchments and blood stains and words she couldn't understand gradually drove her to the edge, a constant chattering in her mind that Alyssa tried her best to ignore. This was what Aemond wanted—he'd planted a seed of insanity inside her mind, waiting for it to become a wildfire and eat her from the inside. Waiting for her to burn and fall, all to win his own game.

She hated him. Sometimes, in moments like this, she hated herself, too. She hated Blindfyre and the weakness of her own heart. She was full of despair. And rage. Always rage, so sweet and enchanting, flowing through her veins, beating alongside her heart. But her rage alone could not win a war. It hadn't even been enough to ensure a victory in one battle.

Runes. She had no idea what it meant, but knew it must mean something; more, perhaps, than she realised. Enormous and rich as they were, the libraries of Dragonstone had no answers to Alyssa's unspoken questions. She'd searched through the books and archives, desperate to understand, left instead with more crippling doubt and blooming anxiety. She knew what would come next—she had known from the beginning. Her head hurt, a dull ache against her skull, at the thought of Aemond's triumphant grin that was sure to grace his face when she returned to the island, a willing prisoner, a martyr begging for more pain.

Before it came to that, though, there were still other fights she could try and win. And so, just like she’d planned, she left Baela’s side with a short goodbye the moment her eyes landed on the person she’d awaited to see. Her steps were nearly frantic, she realised, but there was no time to dwell on the thought. As always, both her limbs and mouth moved faster than her own brain, as though her body had decided to make all the necessary decisions without allowing for any doubt.

“Maester.”

He looked startled enough to cover the following unease that washed over his wrinkled face, but the one second it lasted for was enough for Alyssa to notice it. She furrowed her eyebrows, pondering over her next action. Maester Aulis kept watching her, frozen in a spot. She wondered what he thought of when he looked at her; wondered if he felt dread over what'd come next. Perhaps he feared her in the way ordinary men feared dragons. Perhaps he thought he'd burn.

“My lady,” he said, only a short moment too late to be appropriate, nodding in greeting.

She could do this. She would do this. Swallowing her pride meant little when it was her own life she was fighting for. There was no one else to do it for her; a battle against execution, and it was hers and only hers. Alyssa squared her shoulders and fixed her posture before stepping closer to the man.

“I wish to speak to you, if you have the time.”

If Rhaena had been there to see the expression on his face, she would have burst out laughing, chuckles echoing through the walls and eyes widening, a dance of warm violet and scorching light. Rhaena wasn't there, though—hadn't been in a long time—and Alyssa never enjoyed laughing without her.

“O-of course, my lady.” He nodded eagerly. “I admit, I did not think you'd wish to talk to me, what with my… unacceptable behaviour.”

“I will speak honestly with you, as you have done with me,” Alyssa said, fumbling over her own words, spoken so quickly that, for a moment, she feared the man couldn't understand them at all. But his expression softened, if only a bit, and it was enough for Alyssa to feel lighter.

“I would appreciate that.”

Unacceptable behaviour, he'd said, as though expecting her to chastise him or announce a punishment. But Alyssa knew the truth—even when it hurt. She couldn't afford to live in blissful ignorance anymore.

“A room full of men who have named themselves council, and you were the only one to speak the truth.” There were tears of silent anger in her eyes and she blinked them away. “Rhea Rhoyce was not my mother, and neither was Laena Velaryon. It is true that I was born a bastard. And it is true that the King's word tends to fall upon deaf ears, especially in those who have bent their knees to the usurper.”

When he remained silent, Alyssa knew that she'd have to admit to needing his help—however much it stung; despite the crimson sneaking up upon her cheeks.

“You were the only one who didn't fear the truth, and this is why I come to you for advice.” She was certain her lip had started bleeding from the pressure of her teeth. But she couldn't stop. Not now. Perhaps not ever. “Whatever you say… I will try to listen.”

Maester Aulis looked equally surprised and intrigued, and Alyssa sensed that, somewhere deep inside, the man was proud of himself. Once more, he nodded; the gesture seemed all the more genuine when, for the very first time since she'd met him, he offered a smile.

“Very well.” As though overcoming his own anxiety, his eyes finally met hers. “Know, my lady, that it is an honour.”

And there it was. A testament of the bittersweet more—more than just rage, more than a mirror image of Daemon Targaryen, more than a bastard or a dragon or something between the two. She could only hope this more would prove to be enough.

#aemond smut #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #house of the dragon #targaryen!oc #daemon targaryen #ao3 fanfic

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